roaring-shipper:

==>Maybe further and further away is where you should be. He says he feels you slipping away, and the beds warm below with the heat from a desperate moment of passion. He knew why. It’s not him, he’s difficult and selfish and cruel at times but Messiahs know you’d been able to deal with it before, and you would be able to deal with it now except he can’t be your mother, he can’t be your Horuss.
==>While he was off shooting himself up, falling in hate with Cronus, and digging his grave you’d been at work with your own. Climbing that tree, fighting off a demon, alone. Because he expected you to be strong enough to deal with claws and broken bones. How can you trust him, how could you trust each other? He says he wants to be enough but expects the space he’s left to be filled by words. He’s always asking what he needs to do, but he’s perfect to you. He’s just not yours.
I N33D YOU TO BE PATIENT WITH ME. AND I’LL BE PATIENT WITH YOU TOO.
==>Because it’s like he whispers in your dreams, he doesn’t love you. Get it through your head little kitten, he’s scared of being alone. Like a quackbeast imprints on anything in it’s moment of need, you just happened to walk by during his. It could be anyone else here, he doesn’t love you. He’s just afraid of being lonely. But if he’s patient, if you can stay together then maybe you can make his lies a reality. Maybe you can be a good enough troll that he would think of you as important, and  you take his hand in yours with a smile.
I SWEAR KURLOZ, YOU ARE ENOUGH. I HAVEN’T B33N SHOWING IT PROPERLY, BUT I SWEAR BEFORE MY DOUBLE DEATH YOU’LL HAVE NO DOUBT THAT I LOVE YOU. THAT YOU ARE ENOUGH. I’LL MAKE UP FOR EVERY FUCK UP AND IF I DON’T THEN YOU N33D TO KNOW IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT. YOU’RE ENOUGH, IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT WE CAN’T APPRECIATE IT. YOU’RE NOT THE ONE AT FAULT.

==> Be patient. What’s the saying? Love is patient and kind. You’d been trying, you’d been taking every blow. every accusation, and you’d been forgiving her. However, at some point, you became a doormat to never hold her accountable for anything she said or did to consciously hurt you. And now you were seeing it, seeing everything much too late and all at once, and you’ve been wrong. Always the sinner, you’re the one at fault for everything. You could say she’s responsible for the problems a night before, but when it boiled down to it, you could trace every single line and reason back to you as the main dilemma. The fact of the matter is you’re a monster, and she’s your victim. So be patient with her. Don’t expect it in return. If you obtain it, then that’s a privilege, and you can appreciate it as such. You shouldn’t expect anything of her; she’s done enough. More than anyone else has ever done for you. You need to suck it up, value what it is you’re given, and find a way to deal with every insecurity you have that doesn’t involve guilting her. What an ugly little habit.
[ It’s fine, I can be accepting my mother fucking responsibility. Sins of the past are getting their rightful karma on a motherfucker at present, and shit’s church as it fuckin’ should be. Thou shalt not have to be putting forth any extra mother fucking effort; I know I have the best of anyone in the afterlife when I’ve got thee. I don’t want anyone else. No one would even remotely tolerate that absolute motherfuckery a motherfucker finds himself in. ]
==> It’s true; you’re grateful. Anyone else would have cast you aside immediately and deemed you a failure. That’s why Aranea left, that’s why Sodapop rejected you, that’s why Mituna’s gone away, and that’s why Kari hadn’t cared about you. It’s why Gamzee beat you, defiled you, and taught you lessons through brutality and a language only those of your kind could fully understand. It’s why you failed Meulin when Horuss passed, why you’re still lying to her about his fate, and why the Lord continued to punish you. You have to value what you have and no longer want for anything more. This is what your afterlife is, and sense has to be made of it.
[ I love thee, more than I ever mother fuckin’ planned to be feeling for any motherfucker under the Beforan moon. Tis not because what thou doth do for me but for who thou art. Could be miserable, drunk, angry, vicious, and self deprecating, and I’d be loving thee even if I get the mother fuck hurt. Being angered with one another at times… I believe that’s normal. I do not love thee less when hurt; I hurt because I love thee so. I know not how to be about dealin’ with emotions, thou doth know it, but I’m trying to mother fucking learn. I’ll be better about it, swear it. ]

jetbag:

me: im going to fucking stab you

straight white boy: haha then what? ;) 

roaring-shipper:

==>He’s holding tighter, but you’re already missing the strength he had to crush you without a thought and knowing he didn’t because he loved you. But he’s holding you because he does, right? After all the awful things you’ve said and done, in a weaker sadder body he’d still try to hold you. You’re careful in your tightening of arms around him. You don’t know where this thing you call a relationship is headed, but you’re just as in love with him as the first day, if not more. You could sign praises, you could paint scenes in tribute to him. He’s gotten better, gotten worse, but he’s always been there hasn’t he? His silence had been for your sake, keep it in and destroy it rather than hurt.
==>You take his warm touch, his warm kisses. He’s not leaving, he’s not leaving. There’s nothing to thank, but you hope you’ve done something right as you nod.
I KNOW IT’LL BE HARD, BUT I DON’T WANT US TO PART. NOT NOW OR EVFUR.

==> She makes it so hard to trust words. You have heard them so many times, but each time she’s still found reasons to break up with you. Break it off, pluck the ring from her finger, chop it off if she had to, and you don’t want to keep losing her. Should she decide to end things with you one more time, that’s it. You won’t fight anymore. You could beg and plead and reduce yourself to an unorthodox mess, but it never mattered much. She loves you right now. You’ll have to take her words in the present tense from now on and treat everything accordingly, just like she has to do with your shifts. She can’t tell the difference. The pain still hurts, but you have to keep it in or else you’ll cause more problems. It’s already been addressed; lay it to rest.
[ Meulin, thou art the only motherfucker I all and have, and with each fucking night passing, I feel as though thou art slipping through further and further. I know irritation, frustration, it’s all piling up and over fucking whelming… I know. But I don’t want to be losing thee because of some shit I’m not or not being e fucking nough. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Be what it is thou doth need. ]

nomoreslime:

==> After marinating in self-pity for a while, you finally tuck the useful piece of plastic under the mattress and fumble for the discarded shirt. Slipping it on would be counterproductive considering the fresh wounds bleeding, so it is just placed across the bed for later.

Brother?

==> If stuck here, then waiting for confrontation at a later date is useless. You’d do something about the blood, run to a bathroom and quickly wash it off and wipe off the drops that caked to the floor, but definitely encountering Meulin is landing near worst case this go around. Instead, you sit on the ground and wait, raking your pan over the proper words explain the switch.

==> You’d gone to see Meulin after the whole ordeal, sat in silence with her, and at some point parted ways. Understandably so, you weren’t in any place to be a social creature, nor did you wish to bask in the presence of anyone who looked at you in pity and concern. Plus, the anger in you from when she intentionally played the words properly to hurt you still made you avoidant of her entirely. So when you heard the voice inside your think pan, you stopped a minute. Just an imagination. He had already left, and there was no way he’d fall asleep again so soon.

Brother?

==> But that need to be someone to another brought you to your feet, carried you up the stairs, and lured you into the block you’d deemed his domain. Brother? Yes, you’re someone’s brother. You’re someone’s mentor, dancestor, and pawn. With your hand on the knob, you turn it. He’d let you down; he chose Nepeta over you in her final moments. So why were you still crawling after him? The answer is simple enough when you open the door.

==> It’s because you have to. He’s the one that will save your sorry soul, guide you into the Lord’s work. Your master of the faith sits before you, and there’s purple blood. Instinct tells you to investigate, find whoever did this and slit their throat, but emptiness says stay in your place and await words and order. You look down to him, knowing that he should always be above you. You look down to him with lack of expression, lack of feeling. He’d betrayed you, he reduced you to nothing, and he was calling you brother. You step inside, close the door, expect a punch to the face, but you still sit right across from him in silence.

devotedharlequin
Twas mostly the mother fuck kidding. But church noise, I thank thee.
:o)

In case it is not up and obvi fuckin’ ous, I’m a fucking human for Lord knows how mother fucking long.
And none of thee reblogged my fuckin’ self.

M i r a c l e s .: o )
casanovakevin:

goodnight
wtfeveridgaf:

jumpingbutnotforjoy:

Goth

Out of every pun and play on words I’ve seen on this site, this is the one that makes me so unreasonably angry.

roaring-shipper:

==>You truly like, love, and adore Kurloz Makara. But not just any of the thousands out there, you really like the one sitting in front of you, even if his skin is odd and his blood too warm. You really like him. He’s been strong on his own, killed his emotions and shot up to be reliable. You know that logic, and you love him for trying to put others before himself even if he’s not all that good at dealing with it. It shouldn’t have to be that way, love shouldn’t tell him to sacrifice his well being, and when he pulls you down into his arms you slip yours around him to cling.
==>You’re no good, but you love him. From the nonexistent points of his horns to his toes, he’s been alone even with you there. You need to fix that, you need to love him first. You’re careful as you hold him tighter not to crush, but just a reassuring squeeze. He’s warm, but he’s always been warm. Not in his blood but his soul and heart, his love and care.
I REALLY LIKE YOU, I REALLY LOVE YOU.

==> It’s hard to believe since words often combat it. There are reasons laid out, essays constructed on why you’re no good for anyone. Obvious signs would all point to the fact that you are a controlling, manipulative piece of mime garbage, and even now, it’s in full effect. Due to your actions, your words, you’ve made her doubt herself and cling to you like this. It’s what you want, what you feel you need, but someone whispers to break her neck. She’s poisoned you, don’t listen to her. She can’t really like you. She’s waiting for an opportunity to kill you herself so she can be proud of something for once in her afterlife.
==> None of that stops you from holding tighter. Your strength is no where near what it used to be in your troll body, and even at your tightest, it won’t be enough to really hurt her. Did you want to be good for her or did you want to have a mutual acceptance of your bad? You’re never going to get better, you’ve already accepted that, but she’s still trying. And you’re going to be that support system she needs. You pull away after what feels like forever just holding onto her for dear unlife, and you hold her face in your hand as you kiss her other cheek. Kiss the olive tears, kiss the corners of her eyes, then her forehead filled with terrible, terrifying thoughts.
[ Thank you. We’ll get through this. Even if we’ve got our shit clashing, I’m not letting go of thee. And I can only be about hoping thou shan’t wish to part, either. ]