Me: *Removes My Cat From My Lap To Do Something Else.*

hi i am completely mentally stable and normal about certain media

Too often, it’s said that black cats are wicked. One with the dark magicks. Their croon the last sound heard of someone stuck in the forest in the pitch night, reverberating like the communal howl of devil worshipers.

Too often, these fables forget to mention their less passive, more aggressive counterpart. The black dog, swift shadows, paws scampering, howls and barks that sound like the screams of the sinners... never leaving you, a reminder of where you’ll be soon. When temptation engulfs you too far for you to escape, desperately groping for solace in bible passages and confession as you play pretend that sins aren’t a permanent black stain on the conscious, the howls will be there. Times like this are where black dogs will find you, their sickening penumbra flickering over the light of John 1:9, your most recent turn in desperation…

The howl echoes around you, enough to knock over candles, clawing at your skin, ice against your ears like the centre of Hell itself reached out to scrape your skin and mark you. Now, you are nothing but a target, precious time slipping away akin to sand tap, tap, tapping against the bottom of an hourglass. You can loom over a bible passage all you want (ephesians 1:7, this time) but their snarls will still grow ever closer, shaking you like it’s knocking the last fight out.

It wraps around you and sends you, ironically, to your knees; too close to prayer for your feeble mind to collect that it is your doom. They’re being polite in their own sickening, twisted way, by giving you your final chance to beg for mercy like God will ever listen.

Crows tore against the sky to get away, akin to rips in time on patches of infinite black. Part of you- the lesser sane part, turned mad by fear, but a part none the less- will feel like screaming after them would somehow save you. They are one with death, sin, Satan, they will do nothing but release a caw like laughter- it shoots into the ear like a cross-bolt: sharp, painful, instant.

Nothing like what will happen to you.

Eyes. Eyes everywhere, fighting to meet yours- dark as night but burning with the hellfire they clawed their way out of- trapped behind them as a symbol of home, a symbol of what they fight for, a symbol of where they will return to. They want to see the weakness cowering in your eyes. They want to drag your twitching, bloodied body behind them as their prize.

They’re getting closer.

Further, further inwards.

Feel their iron claws and leather footpads paw you. Slobber and drool soaking your skin, clothes, the tracking device that will never leave you. Smell: ash- burning elder and holly to be specific- hopelessness, Fire.

Fire.

Of course. Feel it lick against your skin- remembering the taste like a starved animal. The warmth of its shockingly gentle caress. For a second, you’ll be convinced it’s like the demons generously welcoming you. In reality, it’s just a precursor for what you’ll soon feel.

Death will be swift… a blessing, ironically. So much different from black cats, dogs just cannot wait for the main event.

Me, Forget Black Cats

fucks sake

Scavengers Reign (2023)

dude seeing these Mega high quality images of the surface of mars that we now have has me fucked up. Like. Mars is a place. mars is a real actual place where one could hypothetically stand. It is a physical place in the universe. ITS JUST OUT THERE LOOKING LIKE UH IDK A REGULAR OLD DESERT WITH LOTS OF ROCKS BUT ITS A WHOLE OTHER PLANET? 

The whole self love thing is good and all but some people can’t fathom being loved. They can’t imagine there being anything good about them. So they can’t simply just stop doing unhealthy things, there’s a process.

i relate to this so much

"I only wanted to bring you joy."

"And you did. You gave me such terrible, terrible joy."

-Pinochio (2022)

Hey yall. I'm not going to be okay. This line hit me like a hammer.

god i love coming home and being at home and sitting inside my home and staying home

ending a story in other languages

kurdish: “my story went to other homes, god bless the mothers and fathers of its listeners” (Çîroka min çû diyaran, rehmet li dê û bavê guhdaran.)

greek: “and they lived well, and we lived better” (και ζήσανε αυτοί καλά και εμείς καλύτερα)

afrikaans: “whistle whistle, the story is done” (fluit fluit, die storie is uit)

goemai: “my tale has finished, (it) has returned to go (and) come home.” (tamtis noe lat / dok ba muaan yi wa)

amharic: “return my story and feed me bread” (ተረቴን መልሱ አፌን በዳቦ አብሱ::)

bengali: “my story ends and the spinach is eaten by the goat” (aamaar kothati furolo; Notey gaachhti murolo) *means something is irreversibly ended because goats eats herbs from the root

norwegian: “snip snap snout, the tale is finished” (snipp snapp snute, så er eventyret ute”

polish: “and i was there [at the wedding] too, and drank mead and wine.” (a ja tam byłem, miód i wino piłem.)

georgian: “disaster there, feast here… bran there, flour here…” (ჭირი – იქა, ლხინი – აქა, ქატო – იქა, ფქვილი – აქა)

hungarian: “this is the end, run away with it” (itt a vége, fuss el véle)

turkish: “lastly, three apples fell from the sky; one for our story’s heroes, one for the person who told their tale, and one for those who listened and promise to share. And with that, they all achieved their hearts’ desires. Let us now step up and settle into their thrones.” (Gökten üç elma düşmüş; biri onların, biri anlatanın, diğeri de dinleyenlerin başına. Onlar ermiş muradına, biz çıkalım kerevetine.)