"Fine. If you wish to abandon me, then do so. You only have yourself to blame."
             I hate being ignored.

ooc: ITS 5:45AM. I’M OFF TO WORK. BYE. Will I have the energy to do drafts when I get home who knows.

that moment when you notice LIGHT YAGAMI handed GENESIS RHAPSODOS a baby

    Looks at all the starters I still have to do.
    Looks at all the novella in my draft box.
    Looks at my life. Looks at my psycho-poet muse.
    “Ahahaha— Goddess be praised.
    Sitcom audience laughter.

lunaeterea:

    The tolerance of insolence well surpassed; he would demand the other sir to leave his presence and crawl back to some pathetic, rotting, rat’s HOLE. Was it a ludicrous musing; no matter to the cause, whatever may have branched from it was detested and smelled so gross as carrion; a non too hushed decree as the ravenette should fancy his heel in ample decision to not engage with ignorance.

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"Should I often wish your idiocy on myself in turn;
   but I recall it is not good to speak ill of the dead. Begone with you,
   I will not stop your step if you desire it carry you elsewhere; I find
   myself with limited care as to what becomes of a decaying man.”

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    Decaying man—?” It then hits. The realization that had wedged itself between sacred hills of comfort and of a humour that administered itself upon his arrival, and the way it reestablishes itself at the pinnacle of a wounded psyche is one that has him almost hurling. He cannot taste the spicy wreaths of hoarded trinkets any longer, only the cruor of archaic circumstances that had breathed aloft, his ample palate now smothered with the iron lavalieres of a militant taste that has his jaws tightening till his entire semblance is engulfed by the tremors of his past. His own ignorance, his own romance with the spendthrift breeze of a world he was far too indifferent to physically know, had blinded him to these questions: Why am I here? How did I get here? Did I die—?

    Did I rot—?
You will rot.
   These loud lamentings, so harsh and heavy—

Fire becomes an imperious figure among the gossamer boards of orient-wood, his countenance aflame and arching once in his devotion to rise with the petulance that broiled, all the dominating hues of a firestruck mane whipping wildly with the rapid ascent of sin and anarchy. For once, the spellsword is ruddy with the incongruent perspectives of a seraphic, antagonistic personality that has managed to rip its blazing tides o’ver arms trembling in the wake of bitter enlightenment. All of the Bard’s dramatic soliloquies now crossed out by the passing of a tyrant’s hand, whose sting is misery and has his hostility scattered wide. It lays siege to his most melodious rhymes; this brutality, this sadness.Purloining his control like the plunderous fat-cats of his own dastardly world as they watched him rot under the grudging spells of Gaia’s earthly mourning. 

    Did the Degradation win—?
    Was the oath unfulfilled?

    “Dare I ask of my death?” It is an inquiry that ignores the moments of afore, but rather, hones in on the discoveries of the now that has saccharine voice depressed under the fervent exhalations of thunder, as foul as shit, recognizing and bolstering a ruthless identity that he never wished to reveal upon the noble. He only stands prone; burning, plunged into a cruel berth of dysphoria as he becomes the ignoble focal point of the room with eyes downcast and flame true. "— Did I die alone? With that sickness?"

//BURPS URL AT

sakabatoux:

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your burp smells B) i don’t remember when or why or how i followed you, but i’m sure 99.9999% was due to your writing ( the 0.00001% for the icon wink wonk ). it’s breathtaking. the details, the dialogue, the thoughts— they’re placed where they should be to give life to the words, to give life to genesis. and the fact that you have somehow made genesis yours after years of development is in itself an amazing feat. your writing and your portrayal compliments each other so much that your blog becomes enchanting. i don’t know if i even made sense, but that’s pretty much how i’ll describe your blog anytime, anywhere. enchanting. and the mun is a dork in my shoujo eyes. genie’s ooc posts are always golden, glitter-like sparkly. but aaaah, i can only say that much since i haven’t really talked to genie that much except for a really short introduction in skype ;;;; i’d love to chat more but i always go i-want-to-talk-but-i-don’t-know-what-to-talk-about. anyway, you are also one of the few who makes my day bright even with just one post of either hilarity or beauty and i hope you’ll stay for a long, long time~! have a great day, friend! 

Track: Underneath the Rotting Pizza
Artist: Nobuo Uematsu
Plays: 89

as phantoms frighten beasts when shadows fall;

    I felt for the tormented whirlwinds.
    Damned for their carnal sins,
    Committed when they let their passions rule their reason.

Aye, perchance here under the harsh lights of summer’s pall, there was an impression that felt incomprehensible at first, until peculiar turns of diurnal charges would clear and allow them to remain unintelligible. The eastern coast of the mid-western continent had never been a likable destination of a Poet’s most wondrous of musing. The heat, the summer-indolence, benumbed eye when he would separate himself from the generous cloves of red-stone that marked themselves grander than the flattened fields of sand. They, so coarsely, would ram their crusts ‘tween toes blackened and bruised by ceaseless hours of walking; amaranthine and unbounded; a wayfarer knows no end. But he had not left the the morels of distant wealds without task, for there was knowledge to be found among the sunburnt reapers; among the love-childs of the midsummer ceremonies who annually baked themselves under the spastic height of the solar moon, as if they were insignificant little pavilions all strung together for a silent festival which only subsumed of them spoiling the muddy skin they had. He found them idiotic. All of them. A temperamental discharge of various levels of harshness and discordance that, in the perspective of a hellion whom only ever wore leather, asked himself how one can lie ‘neath the polluted sphere of Gaia’s closest star from dawn till dusk, undaunted by the horrors they had curling the pimpled flesh of their hides. 

    He would never understand them.
    The revellers of the sun.
    The jaded occupiers of Costa del Sol.

    He finds himself navigating the cooler and more narrower scenes of the towns primary residence along shorelines of gold. The buildings - so vivid and ruddy and charming with the flamboyantly picked paints of an artist’s unravelling - casting a lavish shadow that would compass his sensibility with a bounteous belief that the attraction itself wasn’t so bad. Aye— the beach not unlike a desert had been far too unforgiving upon his arrival in comparison to the populous dominion of the oceanfront, but these luminous panels of sabulous suburbs would suddenly become vague, bidding him farewell, until he is met with a clearing that boards the very reason why he is here.

    It seems isolated from all other possible communities; detached and solitary just like the crown of the heliacal orb, the drama of its situation quieting all the screaming hymns of the season’s usurer until he himself is severed from the hustle and bustle of holiday streets. He expected something more crude. Like an erected pantheon of biochemistry to mar the luminous boons of the seabank with the belligerent white-slats of modern science, or some sort of dungeon beleaguering the liberty of missel-thrush and harebells new with the ingratiating evil of future endeavours. What he finds instead, however, is rather disappointing in the most curious of ways. A home, within it’s cradle of stranded brilliancy, whose battlements and towers were stumped into more harmless columns, was just a breviloquent bunch of this and that which longed for its normalcy to be known. And he enters the square thusly; a single click alike brass and metal tapping the exterior of its kin, a sudden serving of directed light straining his cornea as subaqueous tones of mako and rot are aggressively hustled towards the rims of his eyes. His chiming steps alone are enough to rouse the old man he has mustered all his pride to see; this creature of greasy hair and cracked fingernails whom in all actuality he wished was permanently dead, but alas, the Goddess ailed him none and he were not one to question her official judgment. 

    “Professor! Are you here?” His demand echoes; whirling over his fiery frontiers and dispersing to clasp and caress the alabaster ranks of the surrounding architecture, sporting a luxuriance that animates the angular yet aged features of this olden compatriot. He shall wait for a while, but not for too long, for like all anxious men he was an infant thunderer whom would blast these walls apart for the wisdom he sought.

    “Professor!?”

reply log;

starters: noxcristaux, pxrfidus, dellafine, rymors, ablackwing, svikinnar, turpium
replies: wingsofheartilly, thunderstonereject, the-cyber-soldier, ribbonsofred, piralbinism, starstealxr, verbotii, lunaeterea, atatterdemalionfool—

//slips a url silently ;;

corruptionofheart:

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oh wow i get to talk about papa genie, and just how incredibly sensational your blog is. andraste’s tits, you’ve got an amazing blog. i’ve seen you floating around my dash for a very, very long time, and when i finally followed you, it was a great decision, because your genesis is fantastic—it’s so easy to tell that you’ve got a passion for his character, because you can see all the work you’ve put into him. he’s alive, in a sense, as if you’re genesis using a computer to write himself ( which i don’t think any of us would doubt ) and it’s something so spectacular to have on my dash. your writing is flawless, all around skillful, and awesome. everything you write is just so great to read, and you really know how to put emotion into it, too. you’re a huge inspiration, and you’re also such a kind, and uplifting person. you’ve always popped in to tell me to feel more confident in myself or just. to talk about things we both like, and it’s just so nice to have you around, and i hope to see you around for a long, long time !!

friendly reminder that gen has always been and will always be my number one inspiration when it comes to writing, characterization and believing in myself tbh. i have always adored you and your muse ever since i first saw you way back when 8'I. and tbh you're super freaking hilarious, so much to a point where i'm actually crying sdpgsdfg. you make me grin a ton and i know i don't show it as much as i should, but you are a grand friend that i will always cherish. <3.

༼இɷஇ༽ 
aw man aw man aw man you didn’t have to send one. 

OMFF that post of your reply was the top thing on my dash and I don't know what the conversation is about, but I definitely took it out of context *snorts and rolls off into the sun*

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    if you thought it was about my monster peen, then it was about my monster peen.

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   POSES TBH.