#plastiicparasite

[ninetyscnds]

continuing (x) .// @plastiicparasite​ // big brother steve

The world was spinning. No, not spinning; more like moving in tall, angry waves, leaving Luke swaying even thought he was standing still. The solid frame of his brother was like a tether, an anchor, keeping him upright, safe, out of harm’s way and out of the deep, dark seas. Everything hurt. Everything was too cold. Too warm. Too clammy. Too dry. His brain seemed to throb and grow, trying to leak out of his eyes and ears but at the same time he felt as though his skull was empty, dark and filled with bruised cobwebs, the spiders crawling out through the cracks in his jaw, scratching the back of his throat.

“’m sorry,” he mumbled, weak and quiet. Everything felt like it was unravelling... again. His brother knew what to do. His brother had his own life figured out, had everything you could ever want. A beautiful house. A beautiful wife. A wonderful dream job, writing successful books, turning more and more famous with each published work. Luke just wanted to be like him, so very badly. Twenty-five and a lost cause, going from house to house to rehab center, to street alley to bench to cardboard box. Twenty-five with nothing but stigma to his name and dirty looks when he was introduced as a Crain sibling in any context. 

The house smelled of dinner, of red wine freshly poured and lit candles. A whiff of perfume soared through the air, too, when Leigh seemed to pass by, saying something that echoed in his hollow brain. It wasn’t meant for him, anyway. Was meant for Steve. She was kind to him too, Leigh, forgave him for a lot, opened her home and her arms to him and each time he hurt her just the same as he had any other of his family members.

Oh, if mom could see him now... how she would have cried and cried and cried.

Sniffling, nodding, Luke barely pushed himself off of Steve to look around with bloodshot eyes, wet, thick tears welling and flowing down his dirty face. Home was no where, yet he wanted to go there so badly. What did that say about him, he feared? Did he just want to... not be anywhere? Was that home, the darkness? “I’m-- I’m sorry I c-come here and ruin your night,” he half-brokenly sobbed, dragging the tears away with the well-worn hoodie sleeve. He can’t stand to look his brother in the eye, though... too hard. The eye in the wooden floor is a better place to look. 

“I don’t wanna be--, I-I can leave Steve I promise it’s okay if-- if you don’t want me here-” 

[dxmagedrose]

@plastiicparasite​ answered here:

“You see… I’m sorry, but I’m not about to argue with anyone over Hill House today. You seem to have read the book, in some sense of the word, so you understand my thoughts and feelings towards the supernatural. I like to be upfront with my opinions. And my conclusions. Feel free to disagree.”

Hurriedly, Steve began to pack up his things, leather messenger bag hanging loosely from his shoulder as loose-leaf and notes were stuffed away.

“I believe people when they tell me of a paranormal experience, but each and every one of them can be rationalized by a scientific explanation. It’s – impossible for there to be an alternative.”

Of course the dark academic had read through The Haunting of Hill House — to have the so-called AUTHOR of the “ tale ” doubt the  e n t i r e t y  she had poured over his life’s work was a personal INSULT, as much as she happened to dislike it. She hadn’t originally COME HERE for a fight — she’d come here for information, to DISCUSS.                                                                                      ( Perhaps it was to change his mind. )

Rosa had tried to keep her hands off of the supernatural after what she had been through herself, but her studies only ever seemed to push her further down the rabbithole. It was all she could do to try to understand.       — WHY?    — HOW?

But the WITCH scoffed. It seemed the famed author was DEADSET on dismissing her long before they had anything to discuss. 

                                                                                         ( And a FUCKING shame, too! )

She supposed she should have guessed, but the worn student shook her head anyway.  TO HELL WITH CIVILITY.

               “ You  CAN’T  H O N E S T L Y   say you truly believe the people you make your money off of doubting while SIMULTANEOUSLY saying what they’ve gone through can be EXPLAINED away by nothing more than coincidences,  Mr. Crain. ”   She started, slightly puffing her chest out as she she spoke in his doorway. Pearly white teeth almost bared themselves beneath rose taupe lipstick through the curve of a sharp and knowing smile. It’s all she can do to keep from getting ANGRY.  The youngest Hauley was made of nothing but bitterness and bad choices.   “ It JUST doesn’t work like that. ”

 “You know, you and I do seem agree on one thing,  S t e v e ,                            and that is  A  R A T I O N A L  explanation...   

“ Only the things  YOU  and  I  consider to be rational seem to VARY GREATLY, don’t they?

“ For  e x a m p l e , ” Her voice was SICKLY SWEET as she cooed at him with a cocked head, blocking his only exit.  Harassment, for sure.  “ —  writing so-called ‘ FACTS ’ on MY views about the UNIFIED SUPERSTRING M-THEORY on real life dimensions and physics if I have had no experience with the sort outside of hearing the REAL professionals discuss it would be rather IRRATIONAL of me, would it not? To become a scientific journalist without fully grasping it? ”

The college student had raised her brow for a moment before fishing out a well-worn copy of his best-selling book—crossed out, circled, highlighted and annotated with several ‘ WHAT THE FUCK ’s in the margins—and tossing it on the table in front of him with a loud and pointed SMACK.

“ So  W H Y ,  pray tell,  do  you  find it acceptable to write away the experiences of others that you yourself have YET TO ACTUALLY GO THROUGH?  To  LISTEN?

“ GOD ,  I had EXPECTED MORE from someone so prolific in the supernatural. Through YOUR OWN  P E R S O N A L  JUDGEMENT, you decide the things THEY’VE gone through are impossible; through YOUR OWN sub-par standards and COMPLETE lack of experience and processing in the things you DON’T UNDERSTAND.”

His quickly dismissive attitude had apparently struck a  p a r t i c u l a r  nerve with her. She had intended to be civil. — HONEST !  Lips purse.

“ I’m USED to having my own work doubted, ripped apart and  d i s p u t e d  by those like you who don’t know what they’re talking about, Mr. Crain, but I just cannot BELIEVE the level of denial and arrogance in your writing. I was hoping hearing more from those who had lived in the House would help me out, but I’m  SO DAMN DISAPPOINTED  to find that it’s                                                                                                   JUST.   NOT.   THE CASE. ”

[the-soldicr]

@plastiicparasite​ sent:

👄 + Thomas/daaaad 

FROM THIS AMAZING MEME WHERE YOU SEND A CHARACTER NAME AND MY MUSE TALKS ABOUT THEM  ||  O P E N 

"  —  My  D a d ... ? "

James knits his brows together with shoulders hunching down into a straight line as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, weighing the word in his mind. The majority of the Hauleys were not exactly known for their directness, the voicing of concerns. They seemed to much rather let things BUILD UP until they overflowed these days, a once picture perfect image of a functional ( believe it or not ) suburban family turned to complete BITTERNESS and SHAMBLES, pointing fingers at one another as booming, venomous voices shook the once HAPPY HOME. It seemed to always be left to James to be the BIGGER MAN, to carry the weight of Thomas's decisions for him, his own personal bearer of GUILT and RESPONSIBILITY. 

                                             —       Dad's GOLDEN BOY, his ONLY SON.

" Dad's...   w e l l ,  he's,  sort of...   s o m e t h i n '   else, "     He starts with the slightest of a crooked smile,  CAUTIOUS  as  a l w a y s .    “ I mean,   L O O K ,  I'm not gonna just— sit here and  PRETEND  I necessarily   a g r e e   with  how  or  WHY  he does  HALF  the shit he does, "     James disclaimed SHARPLY,  peering  over his shoulder as if to look around for his other half—his little sister Eli—practically double- and triple-checking behind him to see if they could somehow be in earshot. 

He's seen the HURT and the HEARTBREAK in their eyes every time he hung up after a call with Thomas, the PAIN written across their expression when he always spoke SO highly of him. He'd seen how desperately Eli ACHED to hear from him, to see him again. He saw it in the way they attempted to sneak around when they thought James was PASSED OUT, stealing his phone at night to frantically click through and see if ANY of his contacts were labelled at all. Eli tried their very best to figure out what numbers could possibly be Dad's to attempt to call whenever they got the chance just to try to hear his voice again, but Thomas simply DIDN’T want to be found. James had pissed him off enough dragging Eli in.

                          " — The way he's  h a n d l i n g  things with my little sisters,                                                                       and  fuck,  with  MOM...? "   James trails off, looking down, slowly growing more agitated; uncomfortable. The soldier pauses to take a hefty drink of the beer bottle before him. He shook his head. Thomas had COMPLETELY screwed Mom over, and James couldn't help but feel a sharp sting of guilt, the responsibility of feeling like  HE  HIMSELF  was the main reason she was always drowning herself in the bottle when he went to visit her                                  ( whenever he wasn't PARTICULARLY bruised up or bloodied                                                                    and managed to somehow catch a break, somehow ).

He felt like MAYBE he could have, SHOULD HAVE stood up more for her, for the family. Some nights he felt like he was just  enabling  Dad's  SHITTY  BEHAVIORS  and hurting the family more, that  HE  was to blame for Mom, for Rosa, but James was really just doing the very best that he could to keep any semblance of SANITY  l e f t  in the Hauley line, to save face between ALL OF THEM; keep them from vehemently HATING each other, if it couldn't be said that they did already.

" Dad just,  uh... he really does do what he CAN,"  He continues in Thomas’s defense. "I really believe that.  He, uh, he makes the RIGHT choices, NOT the easy ones. Always has. Always did what he had to, even when it sucked.                  “ You know, he was actually the reason I ENLISTED in the Army in the first place; why I signed up for for THIS kind of life.” He makes a sweeping gesture with the bottle before taking another drink. “ He's always talking about DOING WHAT IT TAKES to protect those around us, about doing the honorable thing. The RIGHT thing, even if it sometimes feels... wrong.   I’ve just—   I always looked up to him a lot for that,  e s p e c i a l l y  growing up. “ M a n ,  I remember the day I realized how GREAT he was in what he did. I dunno how old I was, but we were at some ceremony the department held to thank their officers for something, and he, uh, he got up there to get his award on stage, and the mayor shook his hand. Everyone there in the big city, they all CHEERED for him up there, talked about the SACRIFICES he had made for us.

“And I um, REMEMBER, I was just a little kid, thinkin’  " WOW, ”  you know?  “ That's  M Y  DAD up there. "

“ He  MIGHT  have lost sight of  s o m e   t h i n g s ,  of what  F A M I L Y ‘ S  really supposed to mean to us, but  he's—    he’s a  GOOD  guy...

“I'm NOT EXACTLY SURE I share the same convictions ABOUT GOD as he does, FATE and all that, but, you know,                                                        he... he does TRY to do his best                                                        —  and that's, uh,  A L L  we can really ask of him,                                                                                                                           ...  r i g h t ? "

           ( James just HONESTLY can’t tell who he’s trying to convince anymore... )

  “ —  He uh, made me the man I am today. The SOLDIER that I am.                                                                                                 And I’m GRATEFUL for that. ”

[intcthatgoodnight-a]

“ it’s not your fault. “ for Nell.

MCU QUOTES // accepting

@plastiicparasite

          Tear filled eyes look up at her oldest brother. For a moment she’s angry, not at him, more so at herself, at everything that had happened. Her voice caught in her throat as she just stopped herself from telling him everything. It was her fault. The bent neck lady had taken Arthur away from her. She wouldn’t let Nell have anyone else in her life. She had killed him. But Nell couldn’t say any of this to Steve. He wouldn’t believe her, of course. He would just question if she was on her meds, or if she was seeing a doctor. She knew by now to keep this to herself. It was a brain aneurysm - that’s what everyone told her. Not her fault. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her whole body slumping under the weight of it all. She choked back a sob, held it in tight, and wiped her face.  “I know.”

[damagecompiilation-a]

@plastiicparasite​ liked for a one-liner.

“Alone.....you came here, alone? Dim...dim-witted, I--I’d say.”

[usurxr]

@captaintravelinsider​ @psychobroke​ @deathrots​ @sasoeur​ @jibushin​ @dragonsblades​ @knowhumility​ @ettoga-blog​ @sonofmchan-blog​ @tangleoflies​ @commander-jkocchar​ @paiddeath​ @mysteriouslychaoticwasteland​ @enfvir-blog​ @gavehope-blog​ @spcllsword​ @iinlked​ @icauris​ @rubruum​ @saintstorms-archive-blog​ @halfwayoverthere​ @neworleansdarling-archive-blog​ @goldenpathkyrati​ @varcolacui-blog​ @erredxpersonality-archive-blog​ @somucheasier-blog​ @voidseyes​ @helloghostee-blog​ @sinjustice​ @donyokuu​ @widowcr-blog​ @vxlker​ @pets-ftw​ @woetothose​ @appreciatepets​ @mockeryofreasonarchive​ @demigodsandbeyond-archived​ @kaicene​ @sevenlimbs-a-blog​ @bravcsiix​ @voidsdivinity​ @wall-streets-finest-blog​ @turiismo​ @ximmolate​ @michaeltcwnley​ @moneyandjoy-blog​ @money-and-joy-blog​ @privcte-blog​ @mxneymann-blog​ @clpha-blog​ @aquilacor​ @empathetiic​ @duajaakal​ @moviesseriesposts​ @otwilightprincess-archive-blog​ @pickpocketratking-blog​ @bartxniisms-blog​ @the-bxss-blog​ @dmitrybessmertnyy-blog1​ @steel-blood-magic-blog​ @voidleviiathan​ @deiciding​ @ofonett​ @ulciscoriisms​ @vorabcnd​ @dxsidxrium-archive-blog​ @prinsail-blog​ @mockangel-blog​ @lazuurite​ @exo-joker​ @rdxwson-archived-blog​ @selfcleansed​ @bulletholed​ @lunarcries-a​ @donyokuu-moved-blog​ @echoesdisappear​ @autotelics​ @wewereinbarney-blog​ @itsyogiyoucxnt​ @todenyarchive-blog​ @cutlawarchive-blog​ @savagerie-blog​ @haliidom​ @pagan-min-kyrat​ @sxldierx-blog​ @josephthesheep-blog​ @realfirecracker-archive​ @ts-themechanic​ @cutekitteh1111​ @vidcns-blog​ @rxfle-blog​ @khincemo-blog​ @lustisms​ @preciousxflower​ @themiraclechild​ @aloneandlosing-archive-blog​ @plastiicparasite​ @dexpleur​ @jerriesdaughterjane​ @defininginsanity​ @transchloeprice​ @befierceajay​ @thefireflycargo-blog​ @tatauwarrior-blog​ @vidroha​ @morethanievercould-blog-blog​ @ofkyrat-blog​ @annoure-blog​ @thelostspiritcole​ @flxordie​ @guruashram​ @king-mins-kyrat-blog-blog​

[ninetyscnds]

a phone call would’ve been nice.

“Yeah I’m– I’m sorry, Steve, I-, I lost the phone and I didn’t wanna tell you right away.” 

Please don’t be mad at him, Steve. Please. It might have been the third phone since he got to LA, but you don’t know what a burner goes for on the streets these days and prices for a good time are high as hell…

“—’cause I lost the other ones too, you know. I’m sorry. C-can I come in? It’s freezing out here…” 

[ninetyscnds]

❛ see with your eyes, not with your hands. ❜

JEREMY P. BUSHNELL’S THE INSIDES ( 2016 ) STARTERS .// (meme)

Luke’s hands had barely lifted from hanging by his sides, ghosting over a picture frame on the dresser in the living room. Blunt fingers splay out, eyebrows shoot up to arch high and stay there, a half step taken back as he looks over to his older brother. He could hear the voices of Leigh and Joey in the dining room just next to them. Steve seemed tense. But when didn’t he, really? What was it he liked to say Theo was – as angry and pent up as a raised fist? What was Steve, then - the straight palm, ready to smack fingertips darting out too far?

“Sorry.” 

No matter what he’d try and explain it with, Steve wouldn’t buy it. So it was just easier to stick his hands in his hoodie pockets and instead just look at the picture of mom, reminiscing and trying to remember that smile he could see shining back at him from the little frame. And yeah, maybe he wanted to steal it for himself to keep… maybe more now, than he had ever even considered before. 

[ninetyscnds]

❛❛ I wish it could have gone differently. I wish it had been me. ❜❜ 4 one ghosty boy

haunted starters .// (meme)

Remorse.

It had a different kind of look on Steve than anyone else. Most people seemed to become a little lighter once their remorse was spoken, like the rocks and boulders that had been resting on their necks and shoulders rolled off slowly, relieving them of their burden. Steve, though… Luke could almost see the thick chains growing in size around his older brother’s neck, almost locking onto the dark floorboards and pulling him down, down, down. Even if emotions were no more, Luke still felt something pain him watching him, listening to him lay down his remorse, his wishes, his sorrow.

Touching was off limits. That’s what Luke had learned before he died here, that’s what mom and Nell told him later. Touching means torment, means trauma. He couldn’t traumatize anyone further than what he already had, over the years. It was hard, though, not just reaching out to hug his brother right then. 

He shakes his head no, “don’t say that,” hands push into pockets, the white shirt stained with black mold crinkling a little like dry leaves even if it had no tactile sensation or form any longer. “You’d hate it here… so many ghosts, you’d be arguing with them about their existence like some crazy solipsism philosopher,” he chuckles, rubs his neck a little nervously. From the stairs, Nell, mom and dad are watching, giving them their space. As though they understood the tension and grief they both felt, for having lost each other, and never mended their bonds properly before the end.

“It’s… you know. I-I– I wish I had come to you earlier. Y’know? Or–or told you to listen a bit more. Remember that time, I was like… fifteen or something, and you were moving to LA with Leigh and– and I came to you, wanting to talk that one night?” Shoulders bunching, foot idly kicking at nothing. “And you were.. I don’t know, stressed or something because you told me – ‘not now, Luke!’… You know I.. uh, I wanted to tell you  that I thought.. that I needed help with uh-, with my drinking problem. But… you know. I- I didn’t wanna.. Anyway-”

Wow, way to make it worse than better! He glanced over his shoulder to get a sympathetic little smile from mom, dad looking like dad. Not much help to get.

“I– I’m sorry, look, Steve – it’s okay. It’s better like this anyway. You know? A— at least we.. get to see each other sometimes. And you can- y-you can get on with your life and you don’t have to worry about me or Nell anymore. Right? It’s better. I promise.” 

[ninetyscnds]

❛ what makes you so sure we’re not crazy. ❜

JEREMY P. BUSHNELL’S THE INSIDES ( 2016 ) STARTERS .// (meme)

“What makes you so sure we are?” 

Again, once more, raging oceans crashing against each other, storms having brewed finally colliding and lightning striking with every breath. In the absence of dad, it seemed Steve could only find room to fight with Luke. It was Thanksgiving, one of the last they all held together, and of course the drinks hadn’t exactly helped the ever-growing tension between all the Crain children. Luke was drunk, blasted, even, deep in his first addiction. Steve, tipsy at least, a couple glasses of wine and maybe a beer, too. And, as always, they somehow ended back on this old track, this old conversation, about what was real and what wasn’t. 

“It’s not a-any of our fucking problems that YOU won’t consider there’s m-more to life than this– this black and white binary shit that you live by, St-steve. Are – s-so what, are all those people y-you steal from crazy? Huh?! D-do you tell it to their fucking faces, too?”

Like that one night, with heavy hail and rocks breaking windows in Hill House, a storm rages and keeps the Crain siblings trapped together. Only today, the storm was not Mother Nature’s doing, but that of two brothers so desperately wanting to understand each other, but always failing to get closer when they tried.

[ninetyscnds]

Steve waits all day for the call back from the rehab center. It’s just past 5 and dinner is on the table when Steve’s cell buzzes, to which he promptly excuses himself and answers in the next room over. “—Hey, Luke. Merry Christmas. Did you get your parcel? We sent it over a week ago, but even with express... I wasn’t sure if the center was going to swipe it from you or not.”

A blunt nail had been scratching against the stone-grey wall where the obscenely outdated landline phones were hanging. Tinsel and crappy hand-crafted Christmas decorations were hanging off of the walls and down the hallway, other holidays like Hanukkah and even a couple of Winter Solstice posters were up here and there. A very inclusive place, this… the one with the horses. Luke still hadn’t sat on one of them. Hadn’t even been out near their pen. 

Luke was still looking like shit, but that could have to do with the meds they had put him on here. It was the first place that had started to treat him for his depression and anxiety, providing him with medicine that made him more lethargic than energetic. That wasn’t the point, was it? He felt less functional, less like himself but apparently they were supposed to work. He had to trust in the system, the doctors, even if he felt more and more detached to reality and kept seeing them out the corner of his eye. Regardless, he blamed it on the pills when he had leaned his head against the wall and zoned out completely, and when he didn’t register the phone was picked up at the other end until he heard ‘Merry Christmas’.

“H-hey Steve,” he said, husky and quiet with the smallest smile, knowing very well Steve probably hardly heard it and just kept talking. That was fine. He nodded, “yeah, yeah, thank you.. they uh, they checked it and it was cleared, so.. I got it this morning. Really glad you called and sent me something, th-thanks. Tell Leigh I said thanks, too.” 

A letter, generic and seasonal but thoughtful none-the-less, a hard-cover book and a card game. Uno. Luke had almost cried when he picked up the stupid little package with cards in, clutching it in his paw as he pressed it against his brow, reminiscing of times spent as a kid on Steve’s bed hiding from the girls, playing card games, watching Steve play Nintendo, trying Risk for the first time. Once, all it was for them was play… Now, it was more like pretend. 

Luke cleared his throat. “And uh— merry Christmas. A-are you and Leigh with– with Shirl and Theo this year? Nell, she called yesterday, sh-she and uh Arthur, they’re– they wanna come by for New Years if.. if they have time. H-hey how are you uh. How are you doing? Tell me something good ‘cause I’m– it’s so fucking boring here,” he chuckles, breathless and quiet, head thudding against the wall. 

[ninetyscnds]

“Did you hit your head?”

Injuries starters .// (meme)

The frat house was loud, the walls shaking in some places from the bass vibrating so much. Mom’d have said that the house was dancing, too, feeling it in its bones. People were jumping around, some were clustered in little packs talking loudly over the music, some drinking endlessly from red cups lighting up the dark rooms like Christmas lights. Luke was there, a lot more scrawny than the rest, but the sprouts of a beard on his jawline helped give the illusion he was a couple of years older than his driver’s license would say. It was Steve’s college. He had heard about the party through some of his ‘friends’, loving to hide in plain sight and being given drink after drink after drink without any question. It was a good place to vanish, and a good place to nurture the gaping hole in his chest, filling it with alcohol and thick plumes of smoke. 

Slinking upstairs, Luke held one of those red cups tight, tight, tight in his grasp as he looked around. Nothing of value on the walls, nothing seemed to be in the cupboards or on the shelves. People with faster hands had probably already been through here. Just as he was taking the last step up, he looked ahead to see a person right in front of him. 

Five seconds later, he found himself at the foot of the stairs, the drink spilled all over him, people laughing, a couple of girls shocked and some guys cheering in the background. Luke himself was groaning and trying to laugh, even if he hurt his knee pretty badly. 

“St-steve, hey-” 

The person at the top of the stairs had been none other than his loving big brother. The look he was given, as said brother had rushed down the stairs, was - to Luke - a mix of worry and maybe a tinge of anger. Luke rubbed the back of his head as he started picking himself up off of the floor, “n-no I’m okay. Thanks. Hey, uh. Hey. I was– I was looking for you. Having fun?” 

[the-soldicr]

@plastiicparasite​​​ sent:

❝ you know something, spill it. ❞

KNIVES OUT STARTERS || O P E N

“ And  W H Y  should I? ”  James Hauley all but BARKED back to the nosy journalist, incredulous. His father Thomas was cool,  s m o o t h ,  slow about these kinds of things while James was essentially anything but. Practically carrying the family on his back, James found himself QUICK to dismiss others, a little short-tempered with his shoulders riding high. He didn’t take ORDERS from CIVILIANS.

            “ Why  W O U L D  I  tell  YOU  A N Y T H I N G ?                                                            No  offense, but I’ve  READ  some of your work. ” 

Only a  HALF  lie,  Eli  was technically the one currently applying themselves to familiarize the both of them with the pesky’s writer’s claims after the first time they’d seen him crawling around the area and asking questions. 

“It’s not MY JOB to hold your hand through this, dude.  — You wouldn’t believe a DAMN word I had to say anyway.

                                                                      So what do you  REALLY  want from me, huh?”

It certainly didn’t LOOK good for a military specialist to be asking around about the GHOSTS and GHOULS of the world. He thinks for a moment. A confession. An admission. That’s what he wanted. James’ voice dropped all too low, suddenly quiet & AUTHORITATIVE. 

“ —  LOOK ,  I  think  would be  BEST  for  y o u  to just... turn around and HEAD HOME,  sir. ”

                                                                                            ( IT’S FOR YOUR OWN GOOD. )

[ninetyscnds]

MAKE  YOUR  MUSE  AS  A  CAT - LOAF    !

STOLEN from: @cybervigilant​ TAGGING: @slowcode @dxmagedrose @cxrpe-nxctum (theo) @somnasin @tetigitpermortem (nell) @plastiicparasite & anyone who sees this who wants to do it!! 

[usurxr]

@captaintravelinsider​ @psychobroke​ @deathrots​ @sasoeur​ @jibushin​ @dragonsblades​ @knowhumility​ @ettoga-blog​ @sonofmchan-blog​ @tangleoflies​ @commander-jkocchar​ @paiddeath​ @mysteriouslychaoticwasteland​ @enfvir-blog​ @gavehope-blog​ @spcllsword​ @iinlked​ @icauris​ @rubruum​ @saintstorms-archive-blog​ @halfwayoverthere​ @neworleansdarling-archive-blog​ @goldenpathkyrati​ @varcolacui-blog​ @erredxpersonality-archive-blog​ @somucheasier-blog​ @voidseyes​ @helloghostee-blog​ @sinjustice​ @donyokuu​ @widowcr-blog​ @vxlker​ @pets-ftw​ @woetothose​ @appreciatepets​ @mockeryofreasonarchive​ @demigodsandbeyond-archived​ @kaicene​ @sevenlimbs-a-blog​ @bravcsiix​ @voidsdivinity​ @wall-streets-finest-blog​ @turiismo​ @ximmolate​ @michaeltcwnley​ @moneyandjoy-blog​ @money-and-joy-blog​ @privcte-blog​ @mxneymann-blog​ @clpha-blog​ @aquilacor​ @empathetiic​ @duajaakal​ @moviesseriesposts​ @otwilightprincess-archive-blog​ @pickpocketratking-blog​ @bartxniisms-blog​ @the-bxss-blog​ @dmitrybessmertnyy-blog1​ @steel-blood-magic-blog​ @voidleviiathan​ @deiciding​ @ofonett​ @ulciscoriisms​ @vorabcnd​ @dxsidxrium-archive-blog​ @prinsail-blog​ @mockangel-blog​ @lazuurite​ @exo-joker​ @rdxwson-archived-blog​ @selfcleansed​ @bulletholed​ @lunarcries-a​ @donyokuu-moved-blog​ @echoesdisappear​ @autotelics​ @wewereinbarney-blog​ @itsyogiyoucxnt​ @todenyarchive-blog​ @cutlawarchive-blog​ @savagerie-blog​ @haliidom​ @pagan-min-kyrat​ @sxldierx-blog​ @josephthesheep-blog​ @realfirecracker-archive​ @ts-themechanic​ @cutekitteh1111​ @vidcns-blog​ @rxfle-blog​ @khincemo-blog​ @lustisms​ @preciousxflower​ @themiraclechild​ @aloneandlosing-archive-blog​ @plastiicparasite​ @dexpleur​ @jerriesdaughterjane​ @defininginsanity​ @transchloeprice​ @befierceajay​ @thefireflycargo-blog​ @tatauwarrior-blog​ @vidroha​ @morethanievercould-blog-blog​ @ofkyrat-blog​ @annoure-blog​ @thelostspiritcole​ @flxordie​ @guruashram​ @king-mins-kyrat-blog-blog​

[usurxr]

@captaintravelinsider​ @psychobroke​ @deathrots​ @sasoeur​ @jibushin​ @dragonsblades​ @knowhumility​ @ettoga-blog​ @sonofmchan-blog​ @tangleoflies​ @commander-jkocchar​ @paiddeath​ @mysteriouslychaoticwasteland​ @enfvir-blog​ @gavehope-blog​ @spcllsword​ @iinlked​ @icauris​ @rubruum​ @saintstorms-archive-blog​ @halfwayoverthere​ @neworleansdarling-archive-blog​ @goldenpathkyrati​ @varcolacui-blog​ @erredxpersonality-archive-blog​ @somucheasier-blog​ @voidseyes​ @helloghostee-blog​ @sinjustice​ @donyokuu​ @widowcr-blog​ @vxlker​ @pets-ftw​ @woetothose​ @appreciatepets​ @mockeryofreasonarchive​ @demigodsandbeyond-archived​ @kaicene​ @sevenlimbs-a-blog​ @bravcsiix​ @voidsdivinity​ @wall-streets-finest-blog​ @turiismo​ @ximmolate​ @michaeltcwnley​ @moneyandjoy-blog​ @money-and-joy-blog​ @privcte-blog​ @mxneymann-blog​ @clpha-blog​ @aquilacor​ @empathetiic​ @duajaakal​ @moviesseriesposts​ @otwilightprincess-archive-blog​ @pickpocketratking-blog​ @bartxniisms-blog​ @the-bxss-blog​ @dmitrybessmertnyy-blog1​ @steel-blood-magic-blog​ @voidleviiathan​ @deiciding​ @ofonett​ @ulciscoriisms​ @vorabcnd​ @dxsidxrium-archive-blog​ @prinsail-blog​ @mockangel-blog​ @lazuurite​ @exo-joker​ @rdxwson-archived-blog​ @selfcleansed​ @bulletholed​ @lunarcries-a​ @donyokuu-moved-blog​ @echoesdisappear​ @autotelics​ @wewereinbarney-blog​ @itsyogiyoucxnt​ @todenyarchive-blog​ @cutlawarchive-blog​ @savagerie-blog​ @haliidom​ @pagan-min-kyrat​ @sxldierx-blog​ @josephthesheep-blog​ @realfirecracker-archive​ @ts-themechanic​ @cutekitteh1111​ @vidcns-blog​ @rxfle-blog​ @khincemo-blog​ @lustisms​ @preciousxflower​ @themiraclechild​ @aloneandlosing-archive-blog​ @plastiicparasite​ @dexpleur​ @jerriesdaughterjane​ @defininginsanity​ @transchloeprice​ @befierceajay​ @thefireflycargo-blog​ @tatauwarrior-blog​ @vidroha​ @morethanievercould-blog-blog​ @ofkyrat-blog​ @annoure-blog​ @thelostspiritcole​ @flxordie​ @guruashram​ @king-mins-kyrat-blog-blog​