#i truly am the shit stain of humanity

[theloonatic]

Wait why the hell have you tried vape Wjat you could’ve gotten addicted to that’s hit ur so idiotic

What

[charliedawn]

I think I remember a while ago, you wrote scenario with Slashers being jealous (something about a party at St.Louis and some creep being 'innapropriate' with Reader/Y/N, if I recall correctly)? So I'm kinda wondering who would be the most-to-least jealous among the Slashers?

Most Jealous

Brahms: Extremely possessive and controlling. He expects complete devotion and gets irrationally jealous over the smallest things. Would absolutely sulk or throw a tantrum if he felt ignored. Would absolutely carry you away if he sees anyone get too close to you. Like…who do they think they are ?!

Bo Sinclair: Hot-tempered and territorial. If he sees someone else getting too close to you, he’s immediately pissed and ready to fight. He’s the type to wrap an arm around you and make it clear you’re his. Fuck everyone else.

Him *smiles and wraps an arm around you to pull you closer and whisper in your ear* : "Is this the moment we get home before I punch a grown ass man till he’s pissing blood all over my new shoes and paint my sleeves red ?…"

Eddie Gluskin: His obsession with the idea of a perfect partner makes him insanely jealous. Even just talking to another man could set him off. If he gets jealous enough, things might turn…violent.

Eddie *punching a guy who was looking at you*

Pennywise: Despite his usual calm demeanor, Pennywise sees you as his. If he feels threatened, he won’t just get jealous—he’ll eliminate the competition. Probably with a smile.

Him *digging a grave for his next victim*

Penny: Creep ? What creep ? Snack.

Norman Bates: Very emotionally dependent. He sees you as his safe place, so if you pay too much attention to someone else, he gets anxious. He won’t lash out at you, but he might subtly manipulate the situation or sulk.

Norman *slithers a hand up your back to your shoulder and flashes a warning grin at the creep* : "I am afraid you have overstepped. Please. Back away or I will be forced to do things I promised I would not do tonight."

Jack Torrance: Jack’s jealousy is unpredictable. Sometimes, he brushes things off, but other times, he spirals into deep insecurity and paranoia. If he drinks, his jealousy could turn explosive.

Jack *claps a hand over his shoulder and points a finger at the creep* : "You. Fuck off."

Freddy Krueger: More of a petty, mean-spirited jealousy. He’s the type to make nasty jokes about the person he’s jealous of, playing mind games until you reassure him. He’ll act like he doesn’t care, but he does.

Freddy *sulks before you go and he takes the guy/girl by the shirt* : "Listen to me, shit stain. You better back off or I’ll turn you into human sashimi ! Got it ?!"

Moderately Jealous

Michael Myers: Michael’s jealousy is quiet, but dangerous. If he decides someone’s getting too close to you, they might just…disappear mysteriously. He won’t say a word about it, but you’ll know...I put him in moderate not because he wouldn’t kill, but because you would never be certain if he did or not…

Vincent Sinclair: Unlike his brother Bo, Vincent internalizes his jealousy. He gets insecure rather than aggressive, withdrawing into his art rather than confronting you. But if Bo notices and steps in, things could escalate. Or if the creep is being persistent…Vincent always has a knife or two on him.

Jason Voorhees: Jason is protective, but not the type to lash out unless he truly thinks someone is a threat. If he does get jealous, he’d rather just pick you up and carry you away than get violent.

Ghostface (Eddie Munson): He’d probably find it hilarious at first, making fun of the person trying to flirt with you. But if it keeps happening, he’d get a little irritated and make sure they “got the message.” He’s got a knife, and he already used it—multiple times.

Least Jealous:

Lester Sinclair: Cutie. Couldn’t get mad if he tried. Would simply cling to you all night and kiss you to tell you that he cares about you. Also reminds you he loves you every five seconds. Nobody would even try because then they would see Lester with his arms wrapped around you and his possum hissing at everyone around.

[zeketarion]

content warning ﹣ domestic violence﹒alcoholism﹒cheating﹒suggestive﹒continuation

"levi ackerman, humanity's strongest. what a…sweet name." your husband, alois spoke lowly in the presence of others. a glass of wine, never too far from his hand as the man you married was a heavy drinker. well, to be more transparent; you were forced into this marriage. the man you wanted to marry was close, yet somehow so far away. your father had always hated levi, his cruel confession chirps in the back of your mind every time you find yourself forgetting how you ended up here. "i sent a letter to your sister, she managed to join the military police-" he breathed only to become breathless once more, living in the underground while aging had gotten him sick; it was a matter of life and death. "she freed herself from this place. she'll come to get you once i'm long gone." he said. "i want you out of here, away from that boy and his-" a cough eruptted from your father's chest, loud and painful with a tender throat.

you couldn't stay to hear another word, you didn't want to leave levi, or furlan, not even isabel though you had no choice in the matter. you dreaded every day since then and when your sister finally came back down to get you she immediately married you off to your now husband; a noble man living in wall sina.

it was far from the life you envisioned, the one you hoped for with levi. instead, you were carted off like some cow meant for breeding—practically sold to some noble snob who got increasingly violent when he became drunk. "i heard he was as strong as an entire brigade." you muttered, watching noblemen and ladies dance underneath the shine of the chandelier. "he's incredible." the admiration never left your voice when you spoke about levi but alois just scoffed. his breath stank of red-wine when he turned to you. "is he paying you to stroke his ego?" he asked, though you knew better than to answer. then he walked off, most likely to the next whore he planned to fuck. boring, he often called you but it didn’t bother you as much as he thought. your body, soul, heart and mind belonged to another as soon as he turned his back you would run off to find levi; it's why you loved these overly extravagant balls so much. when the regiments would join together in a fundraiser, drinking and dancing, gossiping and singing. now, all you had to do was find levi. he wouldn't be hard to find as his dark-raven hair and silver irises always stood out to you. humanity's strongest, truly a sweet name.

you wandered the halls, pushing past nobles and soldiers alike. distracted by your thoughts you bumped into someone, hearing the surprised gasps of many. "oh!- shit, i mean-" you stammer. "i'm so sorry, so sorry!" you apologized, grabbing a napkin as they turn around. tall with thick brows and blonde hair, the man's form loomed over you but it didn't feel intimidating. "it's alright, don't worry." he assured you, his white shirt stained with the dark, scarlet red wine. the crowd scrambles as they realize that the situation is defusing, embarrassment still festers in the pit of your stomach. your eyes search his face, his uniform and the wings on freedom dawning his attire. the survey corps, this man was erwin smith. "you-you're erwin smith, aren't you?" you found yourself asking. the man confirmed with a nod and a soft smile. "yes, i am." he chuckled. "erwin!" a voice all too familiar, deep and stern. darkened hair and a darkened expression, levi. there was no doubt about it, he finds himself a way through the likes of people, smelling of wine, sweat and perfume. "levi?" you practically push erwin out the way just to see him. he was out of uniform, instead, he was clothed in a black suit, ascot, and dress shoes.

levi's brows rose, his expression showing surprise before his face softened. "hey," he whispered, desperate to grab your hand and lead you away. "do you two know each other?" erwin interrupted, still pinching his wet, blemished shirt. "…we have history." levi put it plainly, you were grateful for that. erwin didn't miss his friend's gaze, stuck on you, his eyes wandering down your frame. "then i should probably leave you two be—to catch up." erwin cringed a bit, it was odd seeing levi so entranced. he left before you could protest, not like you could anyway.

levi wasted no time in grabbing your hand, erwin leaving was the least of his concerns when you were right in front of him. "levi?-" the halls became quieter and quieter the deeper levi led you through them, old paintings and pretty decor gave some sort of life in the near, dead silence. "i'm taking you home, i can't stand this anymore…" levi spoke. "i can't sleep knowing that you're with him, i'll get you out of here, away from him." his words spoke to you, bittersweet memories of wishing that he were the one to sleep beside you at night, wake up next to you, messy hair, lightened in the sun's sweet kiss. "i love you, levi." it fell from your mouth like second nature.

"i love you too…"

© zeketarion﹒thank you for reading

[under-loch-n-key]

Hi everyone. Obviously everyone has seen the news and read the polls and obviously you can tell that we’re likely cooked.

For some reason our country wants to elect the Mango Menace and his gaggle of orange stained goons once again.

I am terrified for myself, my loved ones, my country, our climate, and just everything.

However, I’d like to tell the LGBTQIA+ community these things because I know we are terrified right now.

What happened today, it’s devastating. It angers me too. Some of my closest family voted for that horrible man. I don’t think I can look at them the same way anymore. Especially, when they hold no guilt or remorse about it even after I explained his policies to them. What do I know, I guess.. 🤷🏻‍♂️🙄

However, as a queer, trans man in this little community, I want ALL of the LGBTQIA+ people who will see this post to know that things will be alright. We all have each other. We know we exist here in the states even if none of us have met. We EXIST.

Just because those orange stained dunderheads want to silence us doesn't change the fact that we exist. We do. We always will. Bigotry cannot fight facts and science. We'll always exist. The only time trans people won't exist is when the human race dies out. Even then, we have other animal species that are queer and trans. No matter what, we will always exist in nature. They cannot change that. They cannot take that from us. Do not lose hope. Even though it's really fucking hard not to.

Do not lose it. The fact that you and I exist is a beacon of hope to another trans and queer person. We exist. None of us want to be left here alone. So we must go on. We must continue to exist. Things WILL be okay. I'll always keep fighting and living for you and every one of my trans and queer brothers, sisters, and siblings.

You existing and simply being here is a beacon of hope to me. Someone who has understands how I'm feeling. Someone who is LIKE me but so different at the same time.

In the grand scheme of the universe, we are very small. However, even though it's small, the fact is that it EXISTS. It's so fucking small in this big void of the cosmos but we're here. We're made of similar components as stars, ones that had to die for us to exist.

I like to think of the sky as when humanity was truly equal. When we were just atoms in the big ol' void, ya know? We didn't fight. We didn't give a shit about all of this stuff. We were allll different types of stars and matter. We were all random as hell, but we just WERE. We coexisted peacefully together in the universe.

Now that those stars are dead as a door nail and some dumb fishy bastard decided to get curious and walk on land, we're all human. Humanity fucking sucks ass sometimes but it's also such a beautiful fucking thing. No matter what happens, a part of us will always exist.

Our existence is embedded in the universe. Nothing can change that. So, please keep living. Be safe, but keep living. Always keep fighting. We belong here just like anyone else.

You belong. You are loved. You are cherished. You are noticed by me and other people here. We all understand each other. So keep going. Again, one day we will all have a better tomorrow. I swear to fucking god or whatever the hell is out there, if anything, however it's unlikely, I will ALWAYS keep fighting for you and WITH you.

Every protest l attend. Every petition I sign. Every time I vote. Every time I go to pride. Every time l simply leave my home as I am. I am doing it for you and all of us. Our people WILL have our damn tomorrow. I'm sick of us not having it. I swear to you we will. So, again, please keep going. Keep fighting. Keep living. Exist. Your existence may be a threat to some bigoted fucker but your existence is precious to someone else. Please do not let them take your right to exist away from you. Keep going.

We’ll have a better tomorrow, the one that we deserve eventually, but we just need get through the hard, bumpy, dirty road first.

Again, we will be okay. Everything will be okay. We’ll get through it. Yes, unfortunately, we will likely see suicide rates and hate crime rates go up and that's disgusting and just all types of awful and depressing. It angers me beyond words.

However, we are strong.

We shouldn't have to be strong though.

What we should be and need to be is loved, accepted, warm, fed, have shelter, and are safe.

For now though, we remain strong. You will always have a place here.

You will live. You will not die, hun. I know the thought creeps in and believe me, I understand. Those thoughts creep in for me too, but we must learn to try to control them. If there's anything I know about us trans and queer folk it's that we're strong, feisty, kind, very sexy, and cheeky as hell. So, if we live, we live because it's our damn right and to be spiteful. We do not owe the people who want to harm us our lives. We just don't. We deserve healthcare. We deserve to love and get married.

We deserve to grow old.

You will grow old. You will be able to go on those trips you've always wanted. You will be able to have that cheesy romance you've always wanted, if you are someone who is wanting a relationship.

You'll be able to sit down and watch your favourite movie. Why? Because you stayed. You didn't give up. Ever. We will always exist.

We will ALWAYS live.

Being transgender has existed before humans even walked this earth and it will still exist when all of us book our holy bus tickets and the blessed holy tax collector comes to collect our debted souls. No matter what, we will live on. They can silence us all they want and erase whatever the fuck they want but that doesn't mean that it's the truth. We're HERE.

We've been here since forever ago. Those Cheeto dusted dunderheads cannot change that. Like I told another person here, other animals and even plants are trans and queer! We've always been here. That won't change, hun.

Everything WILL be okay. We'll always survive and live on. Look at how far we've come in these past years. Many of us thought that we'd be gone already but here we are, two trans people typing away in comment sections on an app where middle age men get off to octopus porn and neko ladies in Japanese school girl outfits because men. and welcome to the internet, I guess. Lmao.

Everything will work out on way or another. We'll have our tomorrow, hun. For now, we gotta buckle down because we're in for a bumpy ride but hey, thankfully on bumpy you have those moments where ya hit the bump just right and you're like

"WOAH, HELLO!- mister bump, you better watch yourself, you saucy boy~ You can't be doin' that. You better take me to dinner first." Lmao. Okay, on a more serious note, we just gotta buckle down together and get through this bumpy ass dirt road because after awhile you make it through that rocky dirt road in the woods and come out to feel smooth pavement again. It'll be alright. We just need to band together and make it through. We all are always stronger together. You're not alone, my friends.

You're talkin' to a guy who has the personality of a gay muppet with a big mouth. I'm shocked nothin’ has happened to me yet with my yappy ass screeching and getting over 80+ gay people to start baa-ing like sheep at a bigot at last year's pride event, but that's a wholeeeee different situation.

My point is, we'll be okay. We'll make it through.

You'll survive. You have me. You have everyoneeeee here and on other social forums. Sure, it's not the same as in-person interactions but it's somethin'. It’s better than nothing I guess. If we’ve gotta go stealth mode eventually and make secret groups for us trans and queer folk, then so be it.

Just do whatever you feel you need to do to keep yourselves safe.

We'll have a better tomorrow. We just need to keep pushing through this rough shit. We'll get out of the woods and onto smooth pavement with open skies eventually.

Continue to exist. Fight. Be safe, but live. Live for yourself, fellow trans people, and simply for spite.

Fuck bigots. Not actually though. Like DON'T fuck them. Who knows where they've been. But fuck them. They're not worth your life. Their bigotry is not worth your life. Live because it's your right.

Those guys are all so far up Donald Trump’s ass he fired his doctor and hired his supporters to give him a colonoscopy.

So, live long. Live for love and live for spite, my friends. We'll get through this.

It’s Trump 2: Electric Boogaloo. SPOILER: The first movie sucked too. They even tried to make a third one — Mango Menace Strikes Back! We didn’t want to come to the theatre to see the second one but it was a class field trip that most of America signed for us. So, we’ve allll got no choice but to go on the trip to the cinema.

Anyways, things will be okay. We’ll make it through. We’ll out get it figured out. We always do. We’ll take care of each other. Everything will be alright. 🤙🏼💛⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️✨

(Sorry for typos and repetitive speech- it’s 4:14 a.m. EST. 😭😭)

[enjoythesilentworld]

wilmon + paint me 👀

hello my dear! oh, you wanted a drabble? too bad. instead you get nearly 2k of unnecessary world building and musings about Simon's beauty.

(and surprisingly little spice, but i'll give this an M rating for nudity)

send me a prompt and i'll write a 'drabble'! (it will not be a drabble)

Wilhelm, looking to separate himself from his peers and secure a place in Florence’s Accademia delle Arti del Disegno, decides to find a new muse in the commonfolk. He finds Simon, a lowly leatherworker, in a bar in the slums.

Wilhelm surely looked out of place. Though he tried to dress down and muss up his hair a bit, there was something more that set apart the rich from the poor. Something about his paler skin, his lighter hair and smooth hands. The evidence he spent most days inside, well fed. Not working in the fields or a stuffy forge. They may call it high times, a renaissance for art and culture, but the divide was clear in this bar.

It was dark and drab and the wine tasted like shit, but Wilhelm was not there for that. He was there for the type of regulars that frequented this establishment.

All day every day Wilhelm was surrounded by pompous assholes, dressed immaculately in imported silks and feathered hats. The art that followed was all the same. Soft, aristocratic women draped over chaise lounges and round, pale men posed with their swords. It was a depiction of 17th century Florence, sure, but it did not show the rest. The underbelly. The real people who lived and worked and sweat and bled and died in the city, slaving away for the profit of the rich. Babies in buckets and shit on the streets. Wilhelm was tired of the glimmering image. People needed to see the real thing. He would be the one to show them all, to show the damned Accademia in particular. They would all see. Commonfolk could be beautiful, too, he was sure of it.

As he scanned the bar, hiding his grimace at the wine, his point was quickly proven. Across the way, there was a man bent over a goblet, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ever the artist, Wilhelm noted the way the light from the nearby lantern lit his tan skin in a warm glow, how it highlighted the frizz around his deep brown curls. The shadow from the man’s face, cast across the wood of the bar, outlined his beautiful profile, the sloped nose and pursed lips. His shirt had nearly no sleeves and was ripped in some places, stained in others, though he wore a nice, simple leather vest over it. He looked distraught, if not a little pissed off, and when he lifted the goblet to drink, his throat bobbed with the motion, muscles shifting as he swallowed. He also was the most exquisite human Wilhelm had ever seen.

He found his feet carrying him over before the man could even lower his cup.

“Hello,” Wilhelm said calmly, placing his own cup on the bar and staring down at the man, who, looking startled that anyone was talking to him, glared right back.

“What do you want?” His voice was like summer rain, and an array of light purples and blues swirled through Wilhelm’s mind as he spoke, though the tone was fiery.

“I’d like to offer you a job.”

The man glanced around the bar, almost looking nervous.

“I can tell you're not from around here,” he murmured in a low voice, “but this is not that type of establishment.”

“Oh, I—” Wilhelm stuttered, swallowing his blush at the insinuation, “No. Not like— A real job. I am a painter. I would like you to pose for me.”

A rough chuckle bubbled from the man’s chest, and he lifted an eyebrow, tentative eyes roaming over Wilhelm. He scoffed, “You want to paint me?”

“Yes. I can pay.”

“How much?”

“Twenty per sitting.”

“Thirty.”

Wilhelm paused. Now closer, he admired the man’s slim fingers and calloused palms, the cut muscles off his arms and the tilt of his eyes. His lips were perfectly symmetrical though there was a scar on his cheek and a grit about his demeanor that said everything Wilhelm needed to know. All inspections necessary before truly employing someone as a model. He was like nothing and no one he'd ever seen before.

“Deal.”

The man, Simon, as Wilhelm had learned, showed up to his apartment on the north side of the river one week later.

They had talked late into the night and agreed on a tentative business partnership. Simon would pose for Wilhelm for their agreed upon payment per sitting at least once a month, more often if needed for a larger painting. There would be sets and props and Simon assured Wilhelm he would have no issue holding one pose for many hours. Wilhelm was sure he would not either, based on the state of his arms and legs and the sliver of chest he had had seen.

At the door, he greeted Simon warmly, offering food and wine, both of which Simon declined, slipping past him. He smelled of leather and oil, his skin was just as smooth when it brushed against Wilhelm’s bare arm as it had the night before when, slightly deep in his cups, Wilhelm had forgotten himself and placed a hand on Simon’s arm. Simon had met his eye then glanced out towards the bar, a warning. Not a denial.

Wilhelm busied himself setting up while Simon roamed his home, which was really one large room. It was a warm morning for spring, so Wilhelm had tied back the curtains and opened the windows, flooding the room with light and the soft sounds of the city below. There were more painting supplies and easels than pieces of real furniture, but Wilhelm was quite content with it all. His lone mattress, piled with blankets and pillows, was plenty for him. All he longed to do was paint, the one thing that worked well enough to quiet his mind for some time.

He arranged his stool and easel just so, then checked his paints again. On the canvas, there was a loose sketch. This one was a commission for some noble lord, supposedly a friend of the Medici Family. Wilhelm had been sure to charge him extra for claiming that friendship, as he had never heard of the man before, nor had he seen him at any of the Medici’s dinner parties. Still, the man would surely faint if he knew Wilhelm was using a commoner as a model for this painting. That pleased him.

Wilhelm cleared his throat. “Shall we?”  

Simon turned from where he had been appraising a pile of Wilhelm’s works in the back corner and nodded once. With a careful hand, he accepted the clothing Wilhelm offered and began to undo the loops on his vest.

As more skin was revealed, he felt unable to turn away, and Simon’s eyes locked on him even as he slowly undressed. Wilhelm spoke quickly, “Would you be okay if we tried something different today?”

Fingers froze on leather and Wilhelm tore his eyes away from Simon’s chest, meeting his intense gaze.

“What’s that?”

Wilhelm glanced back at his easel, at the sketched-out commission. He had plenty of time to work on it, really. Simon could come back next week and sit for it then.

“I was thinking,” Wilhelm began slowly, knowing he was toeing a delicate line. “If this agreement is to my understanding, you may very well be posing for me for a good while.”

Simon nodded, hands still hesitating halfway through undoing his vest. Wilhelm swallowed dryly and prayed this was not a mistake.

“Perhaps,” he continued, “I should spend some time getting to know your body first. As I will need to get comfortable with all its forms and curves for future works.”

When something crossed Simon’s face, it became evident that Wilhelm was going to have to be state it out clearly. There was a challenge in that open, innocent look.

“Perhaps, you may like to pose nude for me, so I may… familiarize myself.”

“Familiarize yourself,” Simon said flatly, though the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Very well.”

Unable to believe it, and not wanting to break whatever spell had allowed this, Wilhelm spun away and began tearing down the background he had originally set for the comission. Thankfully, he had a new, blank canvas already prepared and set to the side.

Every day in the late morning, a beam of warm sunlight slipped through the windows to cast across his bed. Though it would be a pain to find the right timing each day, he knew that would be the place. He kept is back to Simon as he fiddled with the sheets and fluffed pillows, creating a small nest of luxurious fabrics.

When he turned, he found Simon standing in full nude, casually leaning against the wall, watching Wilhelm with careful eyes.

“How do you want me?” Simon asked, uncrossing his arms and pushing off the wall, then taking a step forward.

Wilhelm would not let himself look, not really, not yet.

He gestured to the bed, “Right here.”

Over the next bit of time, Wilhelm, in a great feat of personal strength and restraint, carefully arranged Simon on the sheets. At first he tried to explain with his words only, mimicking the gestures himself, but then Simon said, softly, “It’s okay, you can move me if you need,” and suddenly Wilhelm had hands on warm skin. A hand on his thigh to bend at the knee, on his wrist to prop up his head, on his waist to slightly tilt the hips.

By the time Wilhelm made it behind his easel, he felt as if he had lost his breath. Once he sat on his stool, he allowed himself to look.

In the back of his mind, he noted the colors he would need, which to mix to match the color of Simon’s skin where the sun hit it, compared to where it did not. The color of his lips, now redder than they were when he had first arrived. The flush on his chest was new, too. From this distance—too far for Wilhelm’s liking but just far enough to have the full body in frame — Wilhelm could not really see Simon’s eyes, though he knew the hundred colors that swirled there and would likely never forget them.

In the front of his mind, like seeing the sun for the first time after a long, long winter, he gazed at Simon’s body. His eyes tracked over the line of his neck, across his shoulder, the defined pectoral and ribs and toned stomach. The slight curve of his hip, muscled thigh, bony knee, all the way down to his ankle, then back up across every other piece of skin. Wilhelm could paint for three hundred years and never truly capture the dip of Simon’s collarbone and the jut of his jaw, how his core muscles twitched as he adjusted under Wilhelm’s stare.

“Do I look okay?”

Simon’s voice pulled him from his musings. Wilhelm smiled at the smirk on Simon’s face, the confidence to cover the insecurity, marked by the way his cheeks blushed lightly.

“Yes. You are perfect,” he said.

Perhaps he would never be able to truly capture Simon’s beauty with a brush and paint. But, he would be honored to spend his entire life trying.

[ananxiousgenz]

COME GET Y'ALLS JUICE I POSTED ANOTHER FIC TODAY

@izel-scribbles for you <3

There was no doubt about it: John was horribly, irrevocably in love with Arthur.

He had been for years. He knew that much now. People tend not to bargain with unknowable beings or repeatedly relive someone’s traumatic death to protect and help someone they couldn’t give a shit about. But he hadn’t reached the conclusion that he really, truly loved Arthur until a few months after their separation, on a lazy Tuesday in their shared apartment.

John had been lying on the couch, listening to some jazz music over the radio while scribbling out ideas for a poem he’d been working on. It was late afternoon, and the light shining through the windows covered everything in echoes of molten gold and fox fur and fire, staining the wallpaper all warm and bright. Specks of dust floated through the streams of it pouring into the room and lit up like stars. It was wonderfully cool outside, in contrast to the fiery sunset, and the breeze that drifted in from the window felt positively delicious in the overheated apartment. Arthur was standing over in the kitchen, starting to cook dinner, and had raised his focus from the pan in front of him to ask John a funny question that he couldn’t recall now. All he could remember was the way Arthur looked when he asked it. 

The light from the kitchen window caught in Arthur’s hair, melting into a glowing halo at the edges, and turned his eyes to a bright, gleaming amber as it gently kissed its way across his scarred face. There was a half-smile on his lips and his eyes were clear and happy as the breeze ruffled his hair. He was radiant and beautiful in a way John had never noticed before, hauntingly perfect and terrifying in the golden hour light. A saint. A memory he wished could be frozen in syrupy, amber light for the rest of his life.

John just stared, mouth slightly ajar as his stomach twisted in something akin to fear. The only thought in his head was I love you, and it was the most confident, most certain, most intense thought he had ever had in his life. And that scared him.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. No one means to fall in love, he’d learned. But if he truly understood anything about being human, it was that understanding and handling emotions was, to put it lightly, a bitch. Emotions tended to do as they pleased with little regard to logic or plans or circumstances, or the poor, wretched souls which they plagued. 

And he hated it. 

He hated it so much.  

It meant despite his best intentions, John was irrevocably in love with the man whom he had hurt, betrayed, manipulated, and fought with a dozen times over. A man who certainly cared for him, but probably, no, definitely, did not love him. Not like this. John was little more than a monster, a parasite who had sucked the life from Arthur’s eyes and soul and ruined it. 

So, now he would have to tiptoe around his feelings and act like they didn’t exist, because saying them outloud would be a death sentence for their relationship. It couldn’t be that difficult, right? John had been fairly good at keeping his thoughts to himself when he had been inside Arthur’s head. Keeping his thoughts to himself when he was outside Arthur’s head could only be easier.

Looking back, he severely underestimated how difficult it would be.

Every time John thought he’d reached some kind of maximum, that he couldn’t love Arthur any more, something new would come along and he’d go falling all over again. A mannerism he’d never really noticed before, or a new poem Arthur had taken fancy to. He often wondered if humans could die from not talking about what they were feeling, from holding it in and bottling it up and shoving it away. He knew, in one way or another, repressed grief had almost killed Arthur after he lost Faroe. Hopefully, unexpressed love didn’t do the same.

He had to bite back an I love you when Arthur took Faroe to the park again and she, in her high-pitched, small voice, leaned down to the floor of the bridge overlooking the creek and said, “Are you there, troll?” When Arthur cried and assured Faroe that he was fine, just happy, dear. When he listened to her describing the ducks in the pond with the biggest smile John had ever seen grace his face.

He had to swallow I love yous every time Arthur went out for a walk and came back with a surprise of new poetry books for John to read and study.

He almost actually said the dreaded words when Arthur laughed long and hard at a stupid joke he’d made, but just managed to catch himself before the I love you slipped past his lips.

It was to this campaign of suppressed emotions that John was dedicated when he and Arthur found themselves on a walk to the park on a dull, overcast afternoon. Faroe was at school, and Arthur needed a break from his cases before he drove his mind into the damn ground with them, so John decided some exercise would do them both good. Arthur, ever dedicated to his work, had groaned and complained about leaving loose ends unsolved, but nevertheless pulled on his shoes and coat.

They headed out of the apartment, arm in arm, Arthur chuckling good-naturedly at a wry comment John made about his case-solving habits.

“Now, John,” Arthur sighed, a lovely half-smile playing across his lips as they strode down the sidewalk together, “you can’t honestly expect me to not work? Investigative work isn’t exactly regular, but it certainly makes a good deal more money than bartending does.”

“I never said I didn’t want you to work, Arthur. I only said that maybe you were working too much,” John argued. 

“Working too much? I don’t think that’s true. Working too little, well, that seems a bit more likely,” Arthur replied, tilting his head to accentuate his point.

John sighed, and was glad, not for the first time, that Arthur couldn’t see the small, fond smile blossoming across his face. “Arthur, how many hours in the past week have you slept?”

“Well-”

“And how many times have you eaten or drank water without me reminding you?”

“John, I-”

“And exactly how much time have you spent with me or Faroe? Sitting on the couch reading case files while we are nearby does not count.”

“I’m spending time with you right now, you know. Does that count, my dear?” Arthur asked, voice dripping with affectionate sarcasm.

John rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the flutter deep in his stomach at Arthur’s oh-so casual use of a pet name. “Absolutely not. You only came with me because I dragged you out of the house. If I hadn’t forced you, you would have sat at that table until doomsday.”

“I would not!”

“Arthur, you would have!”

“That is simply untrue, John. I very much enjoy taking walks with you. They’re the highlight of my day!”

“You complained from the second you began putting your shoes on about ‘leaving loose ends untied’ and ‘time is money’.”

Arthur sighed dramatically. “Must we fight again?”

“Only if you’re going to continue being such a stubborn ass.”

“Oh come now, you know how a fight will upset the children.”

Arthur sounded like a character from one of those radio dramas Faroe was so fond of listening to, the ones where someone was always getting betrayed or making a shocking new discovery, all loud voices and exaggerated emotions and cheesy acting. John couldn’t help it. Arthur sounded so silly and ridiculous that he snorted.

Arthur paused for a second, and then grinned brighter than the summer sun at noon, clearly egged on by John’s response. “They can’t grow up in an environment like this! Do you have any idea what a divided household will do to their psyches?”

Despite his best efforts to keep it bottled up, a laugh was bubbling up John’s throat, silently shaking his chest with the force of an earthquake.

“John, we’ll simply ruin them if we keep arguing! We must keep the peace! Think of the children, darling! Will no one protect the children?!”

John had given up on trying to hold the laugh back. It exploded out of his chest in a joyous firework burst of sound, rattling through his ribcage and stomach like it was shaking him down for money. Arthur’s bright, sunny laugh joined in shortly after, and John could swear he saw it glittering like a lit sparkler as it weaved itself into the air around them. And then the two of them were laughing, almost hysterically, as they walked, arm in arm down the sidewalk, stumbling and leaning on each other as though they were drunk on happiness. And maybe they were. Could one get drunk on elation? John wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t remember a time when he had felt better in his life. They laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until tears were streaming from both of their faces and John had to pause walking to wipe them away. 

He reached over to Arthur’s face with a gentle hand and wiped the tears away from his face as well. God, he was beautiful. Still shaky with the last few gasps of laughter, with a smile like Faroe’s on Christmas morning, sunny and beaming with joy. John smiled softly as he swiped his thumb over Arthur’s cheekbones. He wanted to hold Arthur’s face for just a moment longer. Just a second. Maybe if he wished hard enough, the moment would never pass, would be encased in amber memory forever, bright and crystalized and unbreakable and beautiful.

But the moment did pass, as all moments do. 

A sudden chorus of soft laughter drew John’s attention away from Arthur and towards a group of young ladies and gentlemen clustered farther up on the sidewalk. They were whispering and giggling to each other as they walked, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for folks of their age. But something about them made the hairs on the back of John’s neck prickle with discomfort. Their laughter and murmurings seemed too… secretive. Too accusatory. They weren’t just chattering among themselves, John realized. They were pointing, too, stealing not-so subtle glances at something they clearly found incredibly amusing. Were they laughing at him? Or Arthur?

John shook his head to clear the thoughts away as he took his hand off Arthur’s face. Maybe they had just seen an amusing film, or someone had told a funny joke about one of the nearby shops. John was just overreacting. It was fine. It had to be fine, even though every instinct he possessed was telling him otherwise. He took Arthur’s arm again and continued walking in the direction of the park. The sooner they made it away from this group, the better he would feel.

A distant roll of thunder shivered through the air as John locked eyes with one young lady whispering into the ear of a friend, who pointed at John and Arthur while snickering in response to her silent comment. John’s stomach twisted in humiliation and fury. 

They were laughing at him and Arthur.

John took a shaky breath in and grit his teeth as he glared at the group passing by. One of the boys stuck out his tongue. Whispers of “fucking queers” and “homosexuals” in venomous tones floated over the breeze and into John’s ears. Another child picked up a small pebble from the sidewalk and threw it in their direction as he passed, hitting John squarely between the shoulders. John froze in his tracks.

The fragment of a god that still lived in his heart wanted to rip them all to shreds, watch them bleed out and suffer on the sidewalk for the crime of daring to laugh at a being so powerful their mortal minds could barely comprehend its edges. He felt so sharp and angry that he wondered if he could spear them all through just by spitting at them. Maybe he could get away with tearing them limb from limb with his bare hands. But part of him didn’t want to start a fight and just wanted to leave as quickly as possible. If he fought, Arthur could get hurt again, and it would be just another way John had ruined his life. That damned bit of humanity that was lodged in his soul wouldn’t let him cause Arthur any more pain (and John was finding that the human part tended to win out these days). He was still for a moment longer, listening to the battle of god and mortal raging in his mind.

And then John, former piece of the King in Yellow, put his head down and walked away, dragging a very confused Arthur with him.

He was crying a bit as they turned the corner he realized, furious tears carving hot, woodburned lines down his face and turning the world into a wobbly, grey mess. He felt so fucking small. So humiliated. And raw. And angry. Over something as stupid as a kid laughing at him. A kid laughing at him had enough power to make him cry? How perfectly fucking ridiculous. It only made him feel worse.

“John? John, what’s wrong?”

Arthur sounded so concerned, so gentle and careful with his words. He always did when John got upset like this. But John stayed silent, jaw locked in place with the force of his fury, like toffee sticking sickly sweet between his teeth. Some part of him was afraid that if he spoke, the words would burst on his tongue like a series of grenades, and the shrapnel would kill him and Arthur both. 

“John. John, please. Please slow down for a minute.”

John just kept walking, making a sharp right into the gates of the park and crunching his way along the gravelly walkway. Before him, trees covered in their late summer leaves dotted across the meadow and near the edge of the pond, which was coated with a thin layer of ducks and frogs and lily pads. The last of the summer wildflowers wobbled in the breeze as thunder grumbled its way overhead, a warning bell for the storm to come, and John wished for a moment he had the foresight to grab an umbrella on his way out of the apartment. It was some small distraction from the clamoring mess of angry emotions all vying for attention in his head. 

“John! For fuck’s sake, will you stop walking and talk to me?!”

John stopped in his tracks. “What do you want, Arthur?” He cringed as the words left his mouth far sharper and more vicious than he had meant them to be.

Arthur’s face was pinched with concern that had mutated into frustration as he took a step forward and glared up in John’s general direction. “What the fuck happened? Why were you rushing off like that?”

“It’s nothing,” John huffed. “I’m fine.”

“No, you are not, and don’t you even fucking think of trying to lie to me.”

John sighed deeply. Damn Arthur’s fucking detective instincts. Damn them all to hell. “I don’t want to talk about it, Arthur. Have you ever considered that?”

“At least give me an idea!”

“Why should I?”

“I’m assuming you saw something I didn’t, and it’s a bit difficult to figure out what is visually wrong when you’re fucking blind, John. So what happened?”

John sat in that stony silence for a moment, staring at Arthur’s determined and frustrated expression. Overhead, the thunder loudly voiced it’s complaints about their conversation, and a few drops of cool rain began to fall.

“Those kids were laughing at us,” John muttered, feeling his face begin to grow hot with embarrassment.

“What?” Arthur asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“There was a group of kids on the sidewalk that passed us. They were… pointing at us. Laughing to each other.”

“I heard them laughing, yes. That’s what upset you so badly?”

“We needed to leave,” John huffed. “We were at risk.”

“They were kids, John. I don’t think we were in any real danger-”

“They were calling us names! They threw a fucking rock at me!” 

“And that’s what children do! How many times has Faroe thrown a toy at you? Or shredded papers because she was playing pretend?” Arthur shouted, spreading his arms open wide.

“This was different,” John growled, the thunder rumbling in answer to his tone as the rain began to pick up.

“How, John? How was this different?”

“We were in danger! You could have gotten hurt, Arthur!”

“John, for the last fucking time, they were kids. I think I can handle myself around children.”

“I was trying to keep you safe.”

“You don’t need to keep me safe!”

“Yes, I do!”

“WHY?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

John immediately regretted ever having vocal chords of his own. Arthur was silent. The only sound was the heavy rainfall, thick drops mirroring the sudden, fearful tears sliding down John’s face as he stared in horror at Arthur’s reaction. He seemed frozen, his eyes were blown wide with surprise and mouth open in a small, tight oh. Even as the rain began to soak through his hair and coat, he still looked so fucking beautiful. 

“I love you, Arthur, alright? I can’t- I haven’t been able to say it because I know it would mess everything up. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

And John couldn’t bear to look at him. At what he had done. He’d just fucked up everything so beautifully, hadn’t he? First he couldn’t stand up for himself (against a group of kids no less), then he admits to being in love with his best friend in the pouring rain, which would give them both a nasty cold if they didn’t get out of it soon, and he would never be able to talk to Arthur normally again without this moment appearing and making everything awkward-

And then Arthur’s hand was on his cheek.

John froze and could have sworn his heart skipped a beat as Arthur’s fingers brushed gently over his features, outlining his eyebrows, his nose, his cheekbones, his lips. This was… unexpected. The look on Arthur’s face was so soft, so tender. Nothing at all like the frustrated explosion it had been only moments before. His amber eyes flicked back and forth across John’s face with no clear point of focus. There was some emotion lurking in them that John couldn’t quite catch. Pain? Longing? He couldn’t tell. Thunder crackled across the sky, accompanied by a flash of purple-white lightning. The rain kept falling. Arthur leaned in like he was going to whisper something in John’s ear, and then hesitated.

And then Arthur’s lips were on his, and it was like the world exploded.

The cold drops of rain were gone, and the thunder nothing more than background noise for the fireworks show happening in John’s head. Everything in the whole wide world was replaced by the warm press of Arthur’s lips on his. Every nerve in his body was alive and sparkling like sunlight dancing across water and Jesus Christ, if this wasn’t what John had wanted for so long, had dreamed about for months on end. It was exactly as perfect as he had imagined it would be, and God, it felt so good to kiss Arthur. So right. So warm and close and beautiful, fucking hell, was this why people kissed each other? To feel like this? John had been missing out, hadn’t he? 

Arthur pulled away first and pressed his forehead to John’s. “Always so dramatic,” he murmured with a smile.

John’s brain was short-circuiting. There were thoughts scrambling around his head so rapidly it was difficult to simply pick one to voice aloud. “I- wait. You- you don’t hate me?”

Arthur chuckled. “No, you absolute idiot. Or else I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

“I- you kissed me…” John said through a daze. He half wondered if his legs would be able to keep him upright for the time it would take them to walk back to the apartment. Currently, they seemed to be about the consistency of jelly, and the rain making the path under their feet slippery wasn’t exactly helping matters.

“In case the kiss didn’t make it clear, I… I love you too, John. I have for a long time,” Arthur said softly, running his fingers along John’s jaw. “Thank you for looking out for me, darling. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was just trying to understand.”

John was glad yet again that Arthur couldn’t see the giddy grin and blush that had taken over his face when Arthur said the word “darling”. He probably looked fairly stupid, but he could care less. Arthur loved him, too. Arthur felt the same way. Jesus Christ Almighty, Arthur had just kissed him.

“Uh huh,” John breathed, trying not to completely fall over. “Yeah. Okay.”

Arthur chuckled a bit. “Did you think I didn’t feel the same way?”

“I- Well, how was I supposed to know?! I’m not a mindreader!”

“Christ, John, you can be dense sometimes, can’t you? I think it has been fairly obvious that I am in love with you.”

“Obvious to you! I’m sorry your uptight English nature isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world to read,” John said, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“Hey now, my ‘uptight English nature’ has gotten us both out of plenty of scrapes and you know it,” Arthur replied, a sunny grin gracing his face. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about how your pretty face has saved us all,” John said with a sigh.

“You think my face is pretty?”

John froze for a moment before he grabbed Arthur’s arm and turned sharply on his heel in the direction of the park gates. “Let’s go before we both catch pneumonia!”

“John, you didn’t answer my question,” Arthur said in a sing-song voice, falling into step beside John as they began to make their way home.

John sighed heavily. “Yes, Arthur, I think your face is pretty. Oh, wipe that smug grin off. Have a little mercy on me.”

“Who’s grinning?” Arthur asked, smiling from ear to ear like the damn Chesire cat from Faroe’s books.

John rolled his eyes again. It was going to be a long, lovely walk back to the apartment.

[wallterwall]

-Yum Zlurplie

You know what? Fuck you. You useless piece of shit. You absolute waste of space and air. You uneducated, ignorant, idiotic dumb swine, you’re an absolute embarrassment to humanity and all life as a whole. The magnitude of your failure just now is so indescribably massive that one hundred years into the future your name will be used as moniker of evil for heretics. Even if all of humanity put together their collective intelligence there is no conceivable way they could have thought up a way to fuck up on the unimaginable scale you just did. When Jesus died for our sins, he must not have seen the sacrilegious act we just witnessed you performing, because if he did he would have forsaken humanity long ago so that your birth may have never become reality. After you die, your skeleton will be displayed in a museum after being scientifically researched so that all future generations may learn not to generate your bone structure, because every tiny detail anyone may have in common with you degrades them to a useless piece of trash and a burden to society. No wonder your father questioned whether or not your were truly his son, for you'd have to not be a waste of carbon matter for anyone to love you like a family member. Your birth made it so that mankind is worse of in every way you can possibly imagine, and you have made it so that society can never really recover into a state of organization. Everything has forever fallen into a bewildering chaos, through which unrecognizable core, you can only find misfortune. I would say the apocalypse is upon us but this is merely the closest word humans have for the sheer scale of horror that is now reality. You have forever condemned everyone you love and know into an eternal state of suffering, worse than any human concept of hell. You are such an unholy being, that if you step within a one hundred foot radius of a holy place or a place that has ever been deemed important by anyone, your distorted sac religious soul will ruin whatever meaning it ever had beyond repair. You are an idiotic, shiteating, dumbass ape and no one has ever loved you. Rhodes Island would have been better off if you'd never joined us. You are a lying, backstabbing, cowardly useless piece of shit and I hate you with every single part of my being. Even this worlds finest writers and poets from throughout the ages could never hope to accurately describe the scale on which you just fucked up, and how incredibly idiotic you are. Anyone that believes in any religion out there should now realize that they have been wrong this entire time, for if divine beings were real, they would never have allowed a being such as you to stain the earth and this universe. In the future there will be horror stories made about you, with the scariest part of them being that the reader has to realize that such an indescribable monster actually exists, and that the horrific events from the movie have actually taken place in the same world that they live in right now. You are the absolute embodiment of everything that has ever been wrong on this earth, yet you manage to make it so that that is only a small part of the evil that is your being. Never in the history of mankind has there been anyone that could have predicted such an eldrich abomination, but here you are. It’s hard to believe that I am seeing such an incredible failure with my own eyes, but here I am, so unfortunately I cannot deny your existence. Even if I did my very best, my vocabulary is not able to describe the sheer magnitude of the idiotic mistake that is you. Even if time travel some day will be invented, there still would not be a single soul willing to go back in time to before this moment to fix history, because having to witness such incredible horrors if they failed would have to many mental and physical drawbacks that not even the bravest soul in history would be willing to risk it. I cannot imagine the pure dread your mother must have felt when she had to carry a baby for nine months and then giving birth to such a wretched monster as you.

Not a single word of the incoherent, illogical rambling you may be wanting to do to defend yourself or apologize would ever be able to make up for what you just did. The countries of the world would have wanted to make laws preventing such a terrible event like this from ever happening again, but sadly this is not possible since your horrific actions just now have shattered every form of order this world once had, making concepts such as laws irrelevant. Right from the moment I first set my eyes on you I knew you were an absolute abomination of everything that is wrong with humanity. I was hoping I would have been able to prevent your evil from being released upon this world by tagging along and keeping my eye on you, but it is clear to me now that not even the greatest efforts would have been able to prevent a terrible event in this scale from occurring. You are the worst human being, or even just being in general, that I have ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Events like the infected plague apparently only happened with the goal of teaching humanity to survive such a horrible event as the one you just created, but not even mankind’s greatest trials were able to even slightly prepare anyone for the insufferable evil you have just created. If you ever had them, your children would be preemptively killed to protect this universe from the possibility of anyone in your bloodline being even half as bad as you are, except you will never be able to have children, because not a single human being will ever want to come within a hundred mile radius of you and anything you have ever touched. You are a colossal disappointment not only to your parents, but to your ancestors and entire bloodline. The disgusting mistake that you have just made is so incredibly terrible that everyone who would ever be to hear about it would spontaneously feel an indescribable mixture of immense anger, fear and anxiety that emotionally and physically they would never truly be the same ever again. The sheer scale of your mistake, if ever to be materialized, would not only surpass the size of the world, but it would reach far beyond the edges of the known, and almost certainly the unknown universe. I could sit here and write paragraphs, nay, books describing your immense failure, yet even if I were to dedicate my life to describing the reality of what has just gone down here, and I would spend every moment of it until my heart stops beating working as hard and efficiently as possible, yet there is not even a snowballs chance in hell that I would be able to come close to transcribing the absolute shitshow you have just released upon the world. You are an irresponsible, idiotic, disgusting, unloved, horrible excuse for a living being who’s soul contains less humanity than every ginger in history combined. The absolute disgust I feel when thinking about anything that has even a slight resemblance to anything that might have to do with you and your unholy actions is so incredibly great that when I am honest about it I think that even I do not posses a consciousness great enough to comprehend my own feelings about it. When people of Columbia fought to break free from Lungmen, countless soldiers fought and lost their lives in favor of a chance at a better future for their children, they did not give their lives to have you fuck the world up beyond repair to the degree that you are doing right now. Honestly, even when technology advances and studies on the subject become more and more accurate, I do not think humanity will ever truly be able to understand what your failure actually means for the universe.

My hate for you and everything you stand for is so much deeper than the depths of Shambala that you could probably take the entire Lungmen population down there and back up around twenty million times before you would have sunk to the end of my hate, and honestly, I do not want to exaggerate, but I think that that insult was low balling it such a massive amount that all mountains in this world combined would not be able to stack up to this imprecise judgement in light of the fact that when being honest, my hate is almost certainly bottomless. There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in. But then again, you are so incredibly abominable that you would probably be able to surpass the worst conceivable failure a living being could possibly make. You are so incredibly pathetic that you are honestly not worth any more of my words nor my time. Just remember that I will forever detest you for your failure and everything you stand for, and no matter what happens, I will never ever forgive you.

[newtkelly]

my relationship with the name tommy

the primary reason i want to talk about this is because i’m fascinated by it. this is truly one of the few times in my life i’ve been able to (paradox incoming) consciously understand my subconscious. through my hyperfixation with tommy kinard, i’ve actually been able to tangibly see the way my brain deals with trauma.

so funny story - my step father’s name was tommy. he died in 2022, and i hadn’t seen him since my mom left him in 2020. he was a deplorable person. he was predatory, alcoholic, freeloading, toxic, and verbally abusive. i lived with him in good times and horrible times. he, among several other factors, made growing from a tween to a teenager to a young adult a very tumultuous experience in my family’s apartment. the experiences in that apartment have shaped me into the person i am—a person who values independence, someone with a clean, friendly, welcoming, homey home. it makes it very easy and rewarding to stay on top of my shit when i remember how i had to live at twelve and fifteen and nineteen. stories for another time and i am always open to chatting about it. you wouldn’t believe, or maybe you would because you lived like that too.

tommy would send me on guilt trip spirals while he drank bottles of hard liquor and slept all day. he yelled at me in ways my own parents never have or ever will. i don’t think i will ever tell my dad what my mom allowed to go on in that place because it would fuck him up. she only left him after all us kids moved out and there was no one else to blame for the horrible energy in the household. tommy had bouts of productivity and kindness which always complicated our relationship because i am a peacemaker and i abhor conflict, but his crashes scared me. sometimes he stained the bathroom with wine-purple puke. the first time i ever got sick from alcohol, i was sixteen and who do you suppose supplied the sangria?

there are lots of stories, but what i really want to talk about is the human brain, or at least my human brain. something very nuanced happened to me when tommy kinard became the object of my affection/brainrot. at first, you can’t imagine how difficult it was to immerse myself in fic. i legitimately couldn’t. that name meant one thing to me. the only way you can understand what that is like is if you’ve ever shipped a character who has the name of someone in your immediate family or circle. for example, you probably don’t want to read your sibling’s name in a sex scene. i didn’t know how deep i’d even be able to take my interest in him because of it. so… i trained myself. somehow. it wasn’t very conscious, but it happened. in my waking existence, the name tommy started to mean tommy kinard. the association shifted. tommy kinard is the only tommy i think of now, at least on a surface level.

the side effect of this is that i started to dream about my step father a lot. i guess in the process of trauma blocking, i banished him to my subconscious, and there he was (and is) for the first time in a very long time - a main character in my dreams. and along with him, the apartment i grew up in. probably on a weekly basis.

i am an avid and vivid dreamer. it’s one of the things that probably interests me the most about life in general. i know my sleep cycle perfectly, and i think it’s probably atypical. i can tell you that my peak REM cycle happens right before i am due to wake up in the morning. that helps a lot with remembering dreams. also, i’m a light sleeper, and that actually lends itself to “lucid dreaming” which i trained myself to do and did a lot when i was in college. so anyway, what’s really enamoring to me is that because i consciously think/read/write the name tommy on a daily basis, my brain is tricking itself into thinking that i’m thinking about my stepfather and that i need to process the trauma that i moved to my subconscious. also, the dreams aren’t necessarily negative in nature most of the time (but not all of the time). in fact, on one amusing occasion i must have really mixed my signals because he came out as gay at a birthday dinner for my twin siblings.

hey - if you made it this far, thanks for reading! i haven’t really spoken to anyone about this because in my family, we don’t bother giving him the satisfaction of being a conversation topic. anyway, i HIGHLY recommend the human brain. it can do some really complex shit. also does this make me the most devout tommy kinard stan? i literally erased a person for him so i vote yes

[mrmuftin]

You useless piece of shit. You absolute waste of space and air. You uneducated, ignorant, idiotic dumb swine, you’re an absolute embarrassment to humanity and all life as a whole.

The magnitude of your failure just now is so indescribably massive that one hundred years into the future your name will be used as moniker of evil for heretics. Even if all of humanity put together their collective intelligence there is no conceivable way they could have thought up a way to fuck up on the unimaginable scale you just did.

When Jesus died for our sins, he must not have seen the sacrilegious act we just witnessed you performing, because if he did he would have forsaken humanity long ago so that your birth may have never become reality.

After you die, your skeleton will be displayed in a museum after being scientifically researched so that all future generations may learn not to generate your bone structure, because every tiny detail anyone may have in common with you degrades them to a useless piece of trash and a burden to society.

No wonder your father questioned whether or not your were truly his son, for you'd have to not be a waste of carbon matter for anyone to love you like a family member.

Your birth made it so that mankind is worse off in every way you can possibly imagine, and you have made it so that society can never really recover any state of organization. Everything has forever fallen into a bewildering chaos, through which unrecognizable core, you can only find misfortune.

I would say the apocalypse is upon us but this is merely the closest word humans have for the sheer scale of horror that is now reality. You have forever condemned everyone you love and know into an eternal state of suffering, worse than any human concept of hell.

You are such an unholy being, that if you step within a one hundred foot radius of a holy place or a place that has ever been deemed important by anyone, your distorted religious soul will ruin whatever meaning it ever had beyond repair.

You are an idiotic, shiteating, dumbass ape and no one has ever loved you. You are a lying, backstabbing, cowardly useless piece of shit and I hate you with every single part of my being.

Even this world's finest writers and poets from throughout the ages could never hope to accurately describe the scale on which you just fucked up, and how incredibly idiotic you are.

Anyone that believes in any religion out there should now realize that they have been wrong this entire time, for if divine beings were real, they would never have allowed a being such as you to stain the earth and this universe.

In the future there will be horror stories made about you, with the scariest part of them being that the reader has to realize that such an indescribable monster actually exists, and that the horrific events from the movie have actually taken place in the same world that they live in right now.

You are the absolute embodiment of everything that has ever been wrong on this earth, yet even that would only represent a small part of your evil. Never in the history of mankind has there been anyone that could have predicted such an abomination, but here you are.

It’s hard to believe that I am seeing such an incredible failure with my own eyes, but here I am, so unfortunately I cannot deny your existence. Even if I did my very best, my vocabulary is not able to describe the sheer magnitude of the idiotic mistake that is you.

Even if time travel some day will be invented, there still would not be a single soul willing to go back in time to this moment to fix history, because having to witness such incredible horrors would have too many mental and physical drawbacks that not even the bravest soul in history would be willing to risk it.

I cannot imagine the pure dread your mother must have felt when she had to carry a baby for nine months and then giving birth to such a wretched monster as you. Not a single word of the incoherent, illogical rambling you may be wanting to do to defend yourself or apologize would ever be able to make up for what you just did.

The countries of the world would have wanted to make laws preventing such a terrible event like this from ever happening again, but sadly this is not possible since your horrific actions just now have shattered every form of order this world once had, making concepts such as laws irrelevant.

Right from the moment I first set my eyes on you I knew you were an absolute abomination of everything that is wrong with humanity. I was hoping I would have been able to prevent your evil from being released upon this world by tagging along and keeping my eye on you, but it is clear to me now that not even the greatest efforts would have been able to prevent a terrible event in this scale from occurring.

You are the worst human being, or even just being in general, that I have ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Events like the Black Death and the Smallpox pandemic only happened with the goal of preparing humanity to survive such a horrible event as the one you just created, but not even mankind’s greatest trials were able to even slightly prepare anyone for the insufferable evil you have just created.

If you ever had them, your children would be preemptively killed to protect this universe from the possibility of anyone in your bloodline being even half as bad as you are, except you will never be able to have children, because not a single human being will ever want to come within a hundred mile radius of you and anything you have ever touched.

You are a colossal disappointment not only to your parents, but to your ancestors and entire bloodline. The disgusting mistake that you have just made is so incredibly terrible that everyone who would ever be to hear about it would spontaneously feel an indescribable mixture of immense anger, fear and anxiety that emotionally and physically they would never truly be the same ever again.

The sheer scale of your mistake, if ever to be materialized, would not only surpass the size of the world, but it would reach far beyond the edges of the known, and almost certainly the unknown universe.

I could sit here and write paragraphs, nay, books describing your immense failure, yet even if I were to dedicate my life to describing the reality of what has just gone down here, and I would spend every moment of it until my heart stops beating, working as hard and efficiently as possible, there is not even a snowballs chance in hell that I would be able to come close to transcribing the absolute shitshow you have just released upon the world.

When people of Columbia fought to break free from Lungmen, countless soldiers fought and lost their lives in favor of a chance at a better future for their children, they did not give their lives to have you fuck the world up beyond repair to the degree that you are doing right now. Honestly, even when technology advances and studies on the subject become more and more accurate, I do not think humanity will ever truly be able to understand what your failure actually means for the universe.

My hate for you and everything you stand for is so much deeper than the depths of Shambala that you could probably take the entire Lungmen population down there and back up around twenty million times before you would have sunk to the end of my hate, and honestly, I do not want to exaggerate, but I think that that insult was low balling it such a massive amount that all mountains in this world combined would not be able to stack up to this imprecise judgement in light of the fact that, when being honest, my hate is almost certainly bottomless.

Huh?

[mrchiipchrome]

I hate people who say ‘swearing doesn’t make you cooler it just makes you sound immature’ like bitch I don’t do it for you or to sound cool I do it bc I need to express myself in the way I fucking feel like. Do you expect me to say ‘holy moly I had a really bad lesson’??? Like ffs if I wanna tell my teacher that the lesson went like fucking shit then I should be able to without fucking criticism, I literally don’t even do it for anyone except myself so you can shut your fat ass up and keep failing everything you fucking piece of shit pick me ‘I’m so much better than everyone else because I don’t swear’ ass bitch. Like we’re not even friends so how can you fucking dare try to tell me what to do, unprovoked and unprompted, I don’t tell you to stop being so fucking stupid and yet you are, fucking no ass, no friends, no nothing ass person trying to make me be like her loser ass self like shut the fuck up and disappear not like you’d be missed by anyone you fucking worthless piece of human garbage. Instead of trying to tell me to check my language, try checking the door before you walk in the room you Oompa Loompa, 10000 kg, no sense of style, looking like you got dressed in the dark, paler than a fucking vampire, failure, no one likes you, no bitches, no future ass bitch. She honestly needs to check her superiority complex because she’s truly more pathetic than me trying to find a gf, I swear even if she was the last woman in the world not a single person would hit, looking like an iguana mixed with a trash can and lighter fluid, she looks like the melted version of wheelchair Barbie only if wheelchair Barbie was plus size Barbie, no eyebrows ass bitch, no eyelashes ass bitch, caca eyes ass bitch, shit stained face ass bitch, skid mark ass bitch, looking like her name is skidmore muncy, cankles having ass bitch. When I say that your standards would have to be in Dante’s 8th circle of hell to even look her way I am not fucking lying, her wannabe goody two shoes ass persona is so fucking annoying I swear it makes me want to rip my ears and eyes out the second I hear and see her, and don’t even get me started on her fucking voice that sounds like a giraffes shit hitting your head whilst someone plays an out of tune piano and drags their nails over a chalkboard. Her entire being is like a a cancerous cell, I swear that she’s a failed fucking abortion because there is genuinely no way anyone would willingly give birth to that creature, someone had to have a gun to her mothers head all throughout labour to keep her pushing bc that child would never be born otherwise. I swear I couldn’t be paid to be that annoying ass bitches friend, it would make me even more suicidal than just hearing her from afar would. And she pretends that she’s so good just because she listens to girl in red like fucking congratulations you’re like 90 fucking percent of lesbians, no one cares about your fucking ass music taste because you’re not important, the world doesn’t stop spinning just because you’re listening to some stereotypical artist. I swear she’s like the hitler of the school, you always have to be so fucking politically correct when you’re even near her bc otherwise she’ll start her fucking crying again like shut the fuck up and get a personality. Literally the plain boiled chicken breast of the school, she doesn’t even realize that no one likes her, and that people are only remotely nice to her because they feel bad that she has the personality of a piece of coal, she’s more boring than the word boring. She’s a pimple on the day you take the school pictures, she’s an air bubble in your veins, she’s that fucking annoying ass hoe you never want to see but always do, she’s the paper McDonald’s toys, she’s a hole in the bottom of your shoe on a rainy day, she’s the ball that hits you in the face in PE, she’s everything i strive not to be both looks wise and personality wise because if I end up like her I would legit kill myself.

[inkstainedrat]

Touching on from your post, I really hope we don't get policed by certain people aka ghost twitter, if it is half mask of not allowed to sexualise that old man because you can see if we can see part of tobias (ofc completely respect him yknow), because I can SMELL twitter from here causing shit saying shit or even blurring lines of character/non character. And it has me torn cos I wanna be excited, but I also feel I can't be cos we won't be able to make comments like previous Papa's

Dear anon I am so sorry I am a CREATURE who is largely in mobile and forgets about my mf ASKS!!

That being said- twitter is a stain of a place and by now I hope you’ve grown more comfortable in your love for Papa Perp!

Celebrities/ characters/ etc are always subject to being sexualized and I truly don’t think anyone worth their salt in the outside world would give you guff for it.

We aim to be respectful towards real, breathing humans and should never aim to hurt or make them uncomfortable.

While on a tragic level, none of our beloved Papas have ever walked this earth, that does mean that- short of someone hounding poor Tobias in the streets about how much they want to swallow Emeritus dong-

I’m confident that the levels of lust that we all feel is just fine.

Let your freak flag fly & don’t worry about how strangers online view your expressions- the block button is always your friend when you need her!

[fionnaskyborn]

furthermore i know i am bringing this up for a second time in these log entries but i still can't get over how nonchalantly people wave the terms "war crimes" and "war criminal" around. read some international laws, for fuck's sake. and even then it's gonna be skewed. the usamerican wikipedia page, as well as a buttload of american-owned media (like public services and major news outlets, examples would be the LII and BBC) have a much broader definition of what a war crime may consist of, for example - the very act of murder itself. but there is so much wrong with that, right? surely, then, by nature we would all be war criminals, right? even if we didn't murder during wartime! these statements are divorced not only from the terms they are attempting to define but from the very context necessary to understand them. but the very people responsible for the definition of the law of war are now preaching to us that ALL that is done during the war is bad! hypocrites! all of them!

perhaps it is easier for me to judge, seeing as i come from a region of the world whose past is deeply and unwashably stained by actual war crimes. yet there is something profoundly silly, in a you-either-cry-or-you-laugh sense, seeing that we have much more concrete and solid definition of what a war crime consists of. our region's laws are firm and stark because we know what that's like, we've experienced it firsthand. the crimes of the past echo on to this very day. when you compare the local definitions of a war crime according to serbian law (historically the most recent perpetrator of war crimes in the region) and those enacted by the international law, you will find that those written by the ones who have mostly been on the carelessly giving side throughout history have written more vague laws than those who actually have the scars to show for it. the crimes of those in power at that time, even though they are being repressed to keep a nicer and cleaner and more pristine image by the current current, have been documented in the minds of the people who have lived through it and in the books that would help to ensure that those people can be held accountable and tried should such horrible atrocities ever happen again. ideally. not like the international court of law even gave a fuck about us unless it was time to bombard. oh well. nobody's innocent. or so they say, right? that's another sentiment that i hate. they use it as a scapegoat to dodge making any real statements about the matter. nobody's innocent, everyone sucks here, that's just who we are, right? rotten to the core, so there's no point in trying to look for ideals or the good parts during the bad. it makes me sick to my stomach. how can you people be so brainless? failing to recognize the true value of good only enables the terrible things to live on for longer. we have to fight, we have to look for the good in things, or else what's the point? i truly don't care, you can rot in your image of the world that is reduced to a pile of shit. that too will be compost one day. in the meantime, i will seek and fight on for good, and show it to whoever i can reach, so as to lessen the spread of the idiology that human shitholes like you are trying to dampen and suffocate the world with. the world doesn't need more suffering. i'll kill you if you stand by prolonging that pain.

[shiftingscaless]

When I made this blog i didn’t realize just how into this I was holy shit, I’ve never felt like this before and I’m absolutely loving it

Should I be reading tf stuff and getting so into it when I still have another class and a club meeting today? Probably not but I just can’t stop

I can practically feel the scales creeping down my arms, my tiny hands shifting into powerful talons, my spine lengthening into a long, thick tail. My body growing longer, taller, impossible to stand on two legs so I collapse onto four with an agonized wheeze.

My shoulders screaming in wonderful pain as wings rip from my back, the bones in my hind legs cracking and reshaping into a digitigrade stance. Claws rip from my nail beds and the soft skin on my feet becomes hardened, yet with paw-like pads to silence the hunt

Words leave me and I am left with only rumbles and hisses as my jaw stretches into a gaping maw, flat teeth becoming horrible fangs and a short, blunt tongue becoming long and forked, flicking into the air to taste the blood leaking from my own body.

The fat from my tits becomes pure muscle, my chest being large in a distinctly non-feminine way, though the fading humanity in me wouldn’t truly mind if someone still saw them that way.

Even my hair changes its position, moving to become a rusty colored mane running down my spine. A sharp crack rings through my skull as horns sprout, twisting back and up towards the skies and smaller spikes poke from my jawbone. Cartilage lengthens and points until it droops under its own weight, my new ears pinning back as a roar leaves my maw.

Its eyes open, reptilian slits quickly adjusting to the light around it. It lays on the ground as the pain subsides, slowly flexing its new and changed body. It is new, yet oh so familiar at the same time. Freeing.

The draconic beast lifts its head as someone approaches. An unfamiliar figure, but they seem to recognize it. A weight settles around its neck as leather is fastened, a metal ring falling against its fresh scales.

The figure speaks, but it cannot understand. Small, oh so fragile hands run along its jawline, tracing its scales and bones and it leans into the touch. A deep rumble comes from its throat, and the figure smiles as unknowing, draconic eyes meet their own.

The figure peels what is left of clothing from the beast, letting it freely move its limbs and stand. It towers over the figure, wings stretching to their full span and blocking the light below it. It takes one look to the open sky before a gust of wind almost knocks the figure off their feet. Talons roughly grab them and lift them into the sky as well, a laugh coming from the figure’s throat.

Wings carry the beast and its prize away, the only signs of their presence remaining being blood stained earth, and what remained of the clothes of a being who no longer existed.

[superbfirnacho]

To the anon that told our beautiful Super to kys...

Fuck you. You useless piece of shit. You absolute waste of space and air. You uneducated, ignorant, idiotic dumb swine, you’re an absolute embarrassment to humanity and all life as a whole. The magnitude of your failure just now is so indescribably massive that one hundred years into the future your name will be used as moniker of evil for heretics. Even if all of humanity put together their collective intelligence there is no conceivable way they could have thought up a way to fuck up on the unimaginable scale you just did. When Jesus died for our sins, he must not have seen the sacrilegious act we just witnessed you performing, because if he did he would have forsaken humanity long ago so that your birth may have never become reality. After you die, your skeleton will be displayed in a museum after being scientifically researched so that all future generations may learn not to generate your bone structure, because every tiny detail anyone may have in common with you degrades them to a useless piece of trash and a burden to society. No wonder your father questioned whether or not your were truly his son, for you'd have to not be a waste of carbon matter for anyone to love you like a family member. Your birth made it so that mankind is worse of in every way you can possibly imagine, and you have made it so that society can never really recover into a state of organization. Everything has forever fallen into a bewildering chaos, through which unrecognizable core, you can only find misfortune. I would say the apocalypse is upon us but this is merely the closest word humans have for the sheer scale of horror that is now reality. You have forever condemned everyone you love and know into an eternal state of suffering, worse than any human concept of hell. You are such an unholy being, that if you step within a one hundred foot radius of a holy place or a place that has ever been deemed important by anyone, your distorted sac religious soul will ruin whatever meaning it ever had beyond repair. You are an idiotic, shiteating, dumbass ape and no one has ever loved you. Rhodes Island would have been better off if you'd never joined us. You are a lying, backstabbing, cowardly useless piece of shit and I hate you with every single part of my being. Even this worlds finest writers and poets from throughout the ages could never hope to accurately describe the scale on which you just fucked up, and how incredibly idiotic you are. Anyone that believes in any religion out there should now realize that they have been wrong this entire time, for if divine beings were real, they would never have allowed a being such as you to stain the earth and this universe. In the future there will be horror stories made about you, with the scariest part of them being that the reader has to realize that such an indescribable monster actually exists, and that the horrific events from the movie have actually taken place in the same world that they live in right now. You are the absolute embodiment of everything that has ever been wrong on this earth, yet you manage to make it so that that is only a small part of the evil that is your being. Never in the history of mankind has there been anyone that could have predicted such an eldrich abomination, but here you are. It’s hard to believe that I am seeing such an incredible failure with my own eyes, but here I am, so unfortunately I cannot deny your existence. Even if I did my very best, my vocabulary is not able to describe the sheer magnitude of the idiotic mistake that is you. Even if time travel some day will be invented, there still would not be a single soul willing to go back in time to before this moment to fix history, because having to witness such incredible horrors if they failed would have to many mental and physical drawbacks that not even the bravest soul in history would be willing to risk it. I cannot imagine the pure dread your mother must have felt when she had to carry a baby for nine months and then giving birth to such a wretched monster as you.

Jesus Christ Wonkus….. this is amazing. And made me feel a lot better/ gen

[regretepets-au]

Can you draw Cat'ter mating Dog_Mark?

You know what? Fuck you. You useless piece of shit. You absolute waste of space and air. You uneducated, ignorant, idiotic dumb swine, you’re an absolute embarrassment to humanity and all life as a whole.Themagnitudeofyourfailure just now is so indescribably massive that one hundred years into the future your name will be used as moniker of evil for heretics. Even if all of humanity put together their collective intelligence there is no conceivable way they could have thought up a way to fuck up on the unimaginable scale you just did. When Jesus died for our sins, he must not have seen the sacrilegious act we just witnessed you performing, because if he did he would have forsaken humanity long ago so that your birth may have never become reality. After you die, your skeleton will be displayed in a museum after being scientifically researched so that all future generations may learn not to generate your bone structure, because every tiny detail anyone may have in common with you degrades them to a useless piece of trash and a burden to society. No wonder your father questioned whether or not your were truly his son, for you'd have to not be a waste of carbon matter for anyone to love you like a family member. Your birth made it so that mankind is worse of in every way you can possibly imagine, and you have made it so that society can never really recover into a state of organization. Everything has forever fallen into a bewildering chaos, through which unrecognizable core, you can only find misfortune. I would say the apocalypse is upon us but this is merely the closest word humans have for the sheer scale of horror that is now reality. You have forever condemned everyone you love and know into an eternal state of suffering, worse than any human concept of hell. You are such an unholy being, that if you step within a one hundred foot radius of a holy place or a place that has ever been deemed important by anyone, your distorted sac religious soul will ruin whatever meaning it ever had beyond repair. You are an idiotic, shiteating, dumbass ape and no one has ever loved you. Rhodes Island would have been better off if you'd never joined us. You are a lying, backstabbing, cowardly useless piece of shit and I hate you with every single part of my being. Even this worlds finest writers and poets from throughout the ages could never hope to accurately describe the scale on which you just fucked up, and how incredibly idiotic you are. Anyone that believes in any religion out there should now realize that they have been wrong this entire time, for if divine beings were real, they would never have allowed a being such as you to stain the earth and this universe. In the future there will be horror stories made about you, with the scariest part of them being that the reader has to realize that such an indescribable monster actually exists, and that the horrific events from the movie have actually taken place in the same world that they live in right now. You are the absolute embodiment of everything that has ever been wrong on this earth, yet you manage to make it so that that is only a small part of the evil that is your being. Never in the history of mankind has there been anyone that could have predicted such an eldrich abomination, but here you are. It’s hard to believe that I am seeing such an incredible failure with my own eyes, but here I am, so unfortunately I cannot deny your existence. Even if I did my very best, my vocabulary is not able to describe the sheer magnitude of the idiotic mistake that is you. Even if time travel some day will be invented, there still would not be a single soul willing to go back in time to before this moment to fix history, because having-

Okay I'm /j

but screw you still lol - Cherriezkin

[chesters-ocs]

LEFT BEHIND

it seems i like writing dialogue a lot. uh. lolzies

wc: 1k

The high priestess has almost become a regular in this universe. Enough that, when she decided to take a break and visit, an unfortunately familiar face sat down next to her on the part bench.

In her world of origin, the man besides her is a respected and adored god. One of sanctuary and the promise of safety, eyes eternally warm, with the touch so hot it feels like it melts away all troubles in an instant. Sometimes, it truly did, if you were lucky enough.

In her opinion, the male in front of her is a sorry excuse for a human being, and she almost pitied the god she oh-so dearly cherished, for being forced to have the same features as this... creature. This utter criminal scum with an ego the size of the sun.

His face did not belong on such a rat, she thought, before the, in her very biased opinion, vile man spoke to her, as he leaned back into the bench.

"Ugh, didn't know hallucinations could chase me trough universes," he complained.

She could smell the stench of blood and gunpowder radiating off the man from a mile away, but forced herself to at least attempt to remain civil.

"Vikram," she greeted quietly, keeping her eyes ahead, opting to focus on the way the wind rustled the leaves in the lush trees.

"It's Stone to you," he bit back, but to no avail. Mary was desensitized to his antics by now.

"Apologies."

"Whatever. Why are you here? I didn't even do anything that warrants a one-way trip back to my own, shit universe, and you both know it!"

"..."

"Great, miss old and wise one is giving me the silent treatment," he complained.

"It is not your business, but I am here for... Personal matters. Mother does not know I am here."

"... Mother? Wait, you don't mean... She is still alive here!? Oh, when I fucking get my hands on her-!" he growled, sitting upright, remembering the horror stories his late lover had told of his daughter's biological mother. Of what an absolute wicked creature she once was.

The priestess looks at him, confused, as she speaks: "No... My mother as in Lady Maecetis," she corrects, ignoring the obnoxiously loud huff of disappointment leaving the man.

"Really? That old hag? I don't know which is the worst of the two evils," he spat, distaste clear in his voice, and silenced the woman with a firm hand to her mouth before she could even argue back and defend the goddess' honor, "Oh and shut up, Beta I don't want to hear your preachy bullshit."

Mary would have bit him then and there for the blatant disrespect for her and her superior, but she held back, due to a single word, and just pulled back, swatting his hand away.

"What did you just call me?"

"Didn't call you shit, you little pest!" Vikram grunted, truly not even realizing what he did moments ago.

"... You think I'm your daughter."

It wasn't a question. Both of them, in that moment, understood it as a fact, and Vikram sighed, looking away from the priestess.

She politely ignored the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, as he started ranting, while wiping at his eyes with a dust stained sleeve, which served to aggravate the tears further.

"You look like her. You talk like her. You are everything she was robbed of. I cannot stand looking at you, but I love her too much to hate you. You, Beta, are my own personal hell."

Sure, Mary knew the version of her in his universe was long-gone, but she hadn't expected the grief to linger. The pain to keep bubbling and hissing within the man next to her.

The tiny priestess could swear up and down she detested this version of the man who provided her with solace and rest within his temple, but then her goddess would no doubt scold her for lying.

"You said... You hated my mother?" Mary asks, and Vikram looks at her from the corner of his eye with a clear frown.

With a sigh and a curt nod, he reaches for her hands, a silent order.

The woman does not protest, letting him hold one, as he inspects it, looking for the damage.

"... Hm. You got lucky, it seems. Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Just... Open it. Wider."

Following his lead, she does so, but the furrowing brow gives way to her clear confusion, as he leans in to inspect the sharp teeth.

"Fuck, you really have everything she did not have..." he sighs, dejected, and pulls back, just raising more questions in Mary's mind.

"Hah, you really don't know, huh," he asks rhetorically, before explaining it to the immortal, "When... you were little, your... father - Sylvester, was still married to your mother. She... hurt you. Irreparably. But you... You weren't. By some sick, stupid stroke of luck, you were safe. She-she was not!"

Mary is grateful that she had steeled herself beforehand, and did not flinch when his voice rose, simply listening to his frustrations. Her resolve ended when he abruptly hugged her, and she froze, tensing.

"It's not fair. It just is not fair!" He sobbed.

Feeling she should at least do something, she bit trough her biases and pulled out a handkerchief from her pockets, offering it to the godly lookalike.

"... Keep it."

She didn't speak as he took it, returning her attention back to the park.

This seemed to be like the one time that time was not on her side. Her "target", Martin was nearby, and the two happened to lock eyes, as he smiled and waved.

She had been wanting to speak to the ex-god for weeks, and their schedules just not allowed for it to come into fruition.

"Uhm.. I.. I gotta go," she excused herself, eagerly meeting the other, leaving Vikram behind.

He couldn't help but to stare at the piece oe fabric and just feel pity for himself, as he was once again left to rot alone. But for some reason, this one hurt just a little more than it should.