"Why Hello, Hello, There, Little Godling."

"Why hello, hello, there, little godling."🌹

No wait everyone shut the fuck up you've been what hold on y

the ro━

.. "Ah, please forgive my lack of awareness, however uncharacteristic it is for me. I suppose I'd simply become accustomed to those kinds of compliments from those who don't... know me, as you and the others do."

"... I am not uncomfortable with such attention, if that is a concern of yours."

. . . he truly hadn't realized it ? Granted, Yusuke tends to explain things in the most intricately worded manner possible, and likely would have helped by just summing it up with a simple ' You're Beautiful, ' but where is the romance and poeticism in THAT ? If a compliment is earned, why not put one's ALL into it ?

@tenebriism ━ x

"Ah. ...Thank you for admitting to your mistake, Yusuke." ( IT KEEPS GETTING WORSE. )

god. my favorite thing with my version of Ganondorf is his power not quite being a plague but rather a permanence.

his hands brushing reeds and it turns white as though shocking its color from its fiber, a field of silver left where he walks for generations that grows in on itself, out on itself, learning to live regardless. an insect swarm comes to him and leaves him with a violent coordination of those minds altered. punished or blessed beasts finding their eyes seeing a kind of sight they were not born with but given, rewired, cats given a dogs eyes, dogs given crows. he takes the quill and its ink and the ink writes itself into the essence of its parchment like an oath, an oath to stay, a promise on a future it is determined to stay in at his word, at his command. he may be corruption he may be ancient upon evil upon spite that does not die; that cannot die; but he is a memory you cannot get rid of, a history that aches in the bones of the land, a monument unmovable.

he is a bitter loathed selfish truth but you cannot make him pretty, you cannot make him gone. a lesson to keep learning. a person immortalized without body, without name. he inhales and you hold your breath. he speaks and you listen. he exhales and you see the world change. his personhood will never outlast him, who he is a footnote on a list of unimaginable enormities, but his single presence is a fact in a sea of shining lies. he is not pretty, but he has always been beautiful.

you who will not love him, but you who will know he was here. where you are. a hundred years ago. a hundred years ahead.

you tell him to apologize for his own birth, and he laughs, and says I was born, and you will be born knowing me, and you will die knowing me. the way gods are legend. the way he is history.

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Itch | Miguel O'Hara | ATSV062523b

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