The Ghost Of One Specific Homosexual Cowboy Regularly Possesses Tumblr Gays

Map taken from MSF on twitter. They state that Nasser hospital is now out of commission, leaving people in Gaza with increasingly limited options to seek healthcare.

Hospitals are not legitimate targets.

This is a genocide.

Maniac

Yans (Nerd, Bully, Student Council) + Dismissive Creep Reader Blurb [G.N All]

Warning: Bullying, mentions of dead animals, violence, death

(An: Never been huge of the school setting but this came up while listening to a song with the same title. If you can guess it you get a cookie)

Creep Reader who's friends with the school punching bag. Saying they're acquaintanced is a bit of a stretch as nerd hangs out with them because nobody bothers them when they sit next to this freak and they dress their wounds, and Creep only tolerates them because they take pictures of every blossoming bruise and cut.

You never offer input in their one-sided conversations, scribbling away in that notebook of yours as they go insane rambling on about what their bullies did that day and how it feels everyone appears to be out to get them. All you ever do with anyone is watch, listen, and write. It's honestly like talking to a brick wall sometimes.... which is why they had no problem accepting the only good advice ever given to them.

"Y'know.... Even if I report this to the principal it wouldn't stop. They'll get suspended for a few days and when they come back - they'll probably just kill you. If you want this to stop, you need to find a new target for them."

A new target...There's only one person more of a freak than them.

"Y/n takes pictures of dead animals."

The rumor spread like wildfire. A tale spun by a sock puppet account and sprinkled throughout the halls. Really, even they weren't sure if the rumor was true or not, but with that camera and your track record it wasn't out of possibility. All eyes were immediately on you. Your phone number was leaked and the threats and queries poured in. People would point at carcasses on the road and make sure you were in earshot when they joked about hoping nobody was taking pictures. They went so far as to sneak a dead bird in your bag when you weren't looking and poured milk on your items when they couldn't find any. They stole your gym clothes, wrote foul things on your desk and locket - but none of them had ever touched you.

As expected, you had no reaction to this. That's the thing your "friend" had always been jealous of you for. So closed off from the world, from the pain it gives. With nobody slamming their head in the lockers anymore, people began to appreciate their talents and hobbies. They made friends. Real ones. They naturally started to drift away from you, but they always stopped when they saw you in the halls.

"Hey, Y/n.... How have you been?"

"Fine."

"None of this is bothering you?..."

"As long as they don't touch me - I'm fine."

All that's where you left the conversation - and your friendship. Your dismissal to it all lead many to give up after a few weeks, but one remained. The same blight on your friend's life since the start of school. Sure, your reactions were lackluster - but they knew they could break you. It was only a matter of time - and you had just given them the key.

"Hey - Freak!"

Your head bounces off the metal door as you're thrown into your locker.

"Can't touch you, huh? The fuck are you going to do about it?"

You rise to your feet, touching the wet spot at the back of your skull. "If we're going to do this, it's better we do it where nobody can see us."

"Ha? - don't want people to see you lose a few teeth? Fine, I got a big game in a few weeks and rather not get expelled before then."

"Sure."

Your former watches as you're lead behind the school. They should do something, call a teacher - but they're too afraid. The weight of the situation falls on them as you disappear from sight. You're going to get hurt and it's all their fault. Your bully cooks up all the things they plan on doing to you, cracking their knuckles and damn near salivating at the thought of seeing your stone face crumple. They're too preoccupied with their threats to notice you pulling something out of your pocket. Their foot falls off the concrete path and into the grassy terrain as they ready their fists, doubling over in pain as pain splits up their side. They vomit spittle and their own words as they look up, metal bars wrapped around your hands.

"what....the fuck."

"Get up."

Gritting their teeth, the bully drags themselves to their feet - back on their knees before they can stand as your fist barrels into their stomach. You grab both sides of their head and ram your knee into the facture scar on their nose. You're unrelenting even as they fall back on their ass, removing your metal knuckles and mounting them as you ball your fists. You weren't ready for a murder charge just let. Over and over, your balled hand cracks against their face and jaw - drawing red with each wet smack. You stop only to switch you your unbruised hand - their arms shooting up in defense.

"please...."

"..."

"stop...."

"Isn't that what people ask you?"

You climb off their battered body, lifting one leg under your arm. "I've studied people for a while. Writing scenarios where I could ruin lives is much better for all of us than actually doing it. I know things about you too... Your family paid off your younger brother's teacher so he got get into that nice college - and you have a full ride... If you can still use both legs."

Tears prick their eyes. They fight to keep them in. This was their future you were playing with. "I'm sorry! I won't hurt anyone again I promise!"

Your grip tightens "I don't care about everyone."

"I won't mess with you anymore!"

They flinch as you drop their leg. "Good." Waking over to your discarded backpack, you retrieve your med kit and camera - dropping down beside them as you remove the lense.

"Smile."

Their eyes burn as the camera flash goes off. You set the camera aside as you open the kit and pull out an alcohol swab - pinning them to the ground as you apply it to their split cheek.

"Ow! The fuck are you doing now?"

"Quiet."

"Get the fuck off me!"

"You have a game in a few weeks, don't you? I don't think I broke anything, but you probably don't want the other team to see you with bruises."

-

The following Monday, your bully greets you all smiles and pleasant as if you were the best of friends. They could do the exact same thing as you and study you like an animal in a zoo to inact their revenge. Anyone who still picked on you quickly turned on their heels when they saw you with their click. They bragged while you were away about how they planned to tear your life to shreds so hard the damage would last long after school. It was going to be the peak of their year -

"Drink this."

"An energy drink? If you wanted to posion me, you could've done it with something better."

"The seal is still intact. No amount of chapstick will fix your dry lips, because you're dehydrated. An athlete should know better than that."

Their fingers instinctly fly to their lips. How did you?.... You did say you had been watching. They didn't know nor understand the full reach of your knowledge until they got a happy birthday message from an unknown number and a speaker ended up in a pool when they were urged to jump in. They had a fear of water since adolescence after nearly drowning at a lake. You never took charge for this acts and mostly blended into the crowd when they happened. You picked up your old hobby of patching their injuries and taking photos as payment. Why were you doing so much for someone who wanted to make you suffer?

"We're friends.... aren't we?"

Huh?

"Besides, if I stick with you, I don't have to look up gore sites anymore - or take pictures of dead animals."

You're such a fucking freak. A freak - that was starting to grow on them.

You became the person they'd look for first during school - when they needed a shoulder to cry on. You rarely offered comfort, but a pat on the shoulders was good enough for them. Their hand would find your shoulder or waist so frequently that rumors began spreading that you were dating - until people found out every touch was met with a light punch to their bruised ribs. They'd just laugh it off and apologize before doing it again an hour later.

Your former friend was having the time of their life - for a while. Something felt... artificial about their new friends. They had a good time at school and when they got together on weekends, but nobody was there for them at any other time. No one to vent to or wish them happy birthday exactly when it turned midnight - like you used you. They missed you. More than anything.

"Hey - give me Y/n's number."

Been a while since they've been in this scenario. Why was your shared bully asking them for your number?

"H-huh? Why?...."

"I had to get a new phone and can't remember the last digits. Stop asking questions and give it to me."

"Okay!"

The bully snatches their phone and punches the number into theirs - eyes softening as the line connects. "Y/n..... What? Of course it's me. I got a new phone. Anyway, I got tickets to that one movie that's coming out this week - the one that got pushed back because the prop knife turned out to be real? You coming or not?... Good."

Your former friend catches their phone as it's tossed back to them - watching their bully walk away with the flush of a middle schooler confessing to their crush. They hadn't been hit at all during the altercation, but their chest hurt hearing your voice after so long away from you - even faintly.

They find you the next day at the top of the roof. It was your favorite hiding place, and the only one your bully hadn't found yet. They sit quietly beside you.

"How have you been?..."

"Fine..."

They purse their lips together. "What...did you do to make them stop?"

"Put them in their place."

"What do you mean by that?"

You point your camera at the passing crowd. "At our age, people only have as much power as you give them. If you stand your ground they'll typically back down, and if they don't - you beat the to a pulp and ruin their families lives."

Your friend can't stop the tears from flowing. You had always been the strong one, that they knew - but how could you handle things so easily? How could they betray you like that? Their only companion in this world - thrown to the wolves when you should've been their for each other.

"It was you wasn't it?"

You stand up.

"Stay away from me."

They reach out to grab you - mend the tattered strings of your friendship. "Don't leave me. I did it, okay? I did it, and I'm so so sorry. Y/n, please forgive me - I couldn't take it anymore. I'd go back to the way things were if it meant you were still with me. Please, Y/n, I'm in lo-"

Their vision blanks, speckles of blood littering the ground floor from their split lip. You lower your hand back down to your camera.

"Don't lie to me. Or yourself like that."

It hurts... Everything hurts.... Still, they smile - showing you the bloodied whites of their teeth.

""ahhh.... Y/n, I'm... I'm bleeding. Don't you want to take a picture of me? Aren't I still beautiful to you? Aren't I good enough?"

You don't grace them with a reply, walking off as they curl into themself. It hurts - their mouth is numb, but it hurts all over. Please, come back. Let them their their head on your shoulder until the pain goes away. Y/n... Please.

"I'm sorry...."

"But are you really though?"

They cover their ears with their hands. Shut up. Go away. If they'd done their job probably - none of these would've happened. The student council president. The worthless coward didn't even have the courage to come themself. Just another lackey doing their bidding.

"Leave me alone."

"Ugh, you're so whiny. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I just wanted I break - I didn't mean to hurt them."

"Yea, yeah that's what your like always says. Misery sure does love company, though. I genuinely don't see what the prez likes about that fucking creep. They're wasting their time and blood for them."

Shut up. "Don't talking about Y/n like that?"

"But you had no problem with it when it was for benefit. What did you call them? A psychopath?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go....."

"Keep telling yourself that. I can't decide who'd I'd take more - the backstabber, or the maniac."

"SHUT UP!"

-

Walking down the steps to the first floor, you crash into someone skipping their way in the same direction.

"Ah - Y/n!" The student council president grins, picking up your fallen camera. "Good morning, good morning! And how are you doing ok this lovely day?"

"Fine."

"Faaaantastic." They point at their cheek sweeping blood on the shell of your camera. "As you can see here, I had a little bitty accident in my culinary class. I'm such a clutz, aren't I? If you give me one of those cute bandages, I'll take a picture of this cut and smile real pretty for ya!"

"Whatever." The president hums as you fish around in your bag, smiling big for their future spouse - deleting as many pictures as they can of others in that short time. If only they hadn't been out sick when the rumors spread. Then maybe you wouldn't be on that awful bully's arm and in theirs instead. They refused to let this little setback running your future together. After all, they were willing to bleed for you on their own Accord unlike everyone else in your album.

Unfortunately, they were upstaged once again - but their own council member too. They frown as the screams begin. They spit on the floor as blood splatters across the windows.

Couldn't go kill yourself somewhere else?

-

At the rooftop, panic takes flight. No no no... They didn't mean to do it. Their hands flew out before their brain could tell them no. The blood pools like a broken jug. A crowd surrounds the body. Nobody can see them from their place on the roof floor, but they can see everyone. A figure wearing a jacket that was once theirs, dyed with their blood and tears. The camera that hangs around that person's neck. The shutter of the lense. They laugh - finally understanding what they had to do to get you back.

You really did like taking pictures of dead animals afterall....

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ

✒ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡɪɴ, ᴡᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ (ᴛʙᴀ)

✉ - ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜꜱ: ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏᴅ x ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ɢᴏᴅ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʟᴋꜱ, ᴡʜᴏᴏᴘꜱ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ(?) ɢᴏʀᴇ, ʀᴀɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴜᴛʜʟᴇꜱꜱ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇʜᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʀꜱᴏɴ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ (ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋʏ ᴋɪɴᴅ), ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏꜰꜰꜱᴘʀɪɴɢ, ʟᴀʀɢᴇ ᴀɢᴇ-ɢᴀᴘ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀ: ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴄʜᴀʀ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

ᴘʀᴏɴᴜɴᴄɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɢᴜɪᴅᴇ⦂ ꜰᴀɪꜱɪᴀɴ - ꜰᴀɪ-ꜱʜᴀɴ ꜰᴀɪᴀ - ꜰᴀɪ-ʏᴀ ​🇫​​🇦​​🇮​​🇺​​🇸​- ​🇫​​🇦​​🇮​-​🇾​​🇺​​🇸​ ​🇩​​🇦​​🇰​​🇲​​🇪​​🇸​ - ​🇩​​🇦​​🇰​-​🇲​​🇪​​🇸​ ​🇶​​🇭​​🇪​​🇹​​🇴​​🇭​​🇷​ - ​🇰​​🇪​-​🇹​​🇴​​🇷​

Yandere Victory God, who isn’t everything you’d expect a victory god to be. He’s not energetic, cheerful, or even that much of a good sport. What he is is cocky, arrogant, pragmatic, and stubborn as hell. 

Yandere Victory God, who has challenged every single major god in the pantheon to duels, games of strategy, or even something as dumb as a popularity contest. He’d always get too into it, sometimes transforming a simple game into a years-long feud that’d only end when he managed to win. None of the gods have forgotten the Faisian Festival of 674, not when it nearly caused the entirety of the island of Faia to sink into the ground. 

Yandere Victory God, who doesn’t care for any of the other gods. Not when they couldn’t even beat him, not like you could. You, the God of Mercy, who the world has forgotten ever since your temple was desecrated during the War of Storms.

Yandere Victory God, who is the only god who still remembers you, even if it’s been half a century since he’s last seen you. He hates to admit it, but he misses you and your gentle gaze, your compassionate personality, and your endless patience. 

Yandere Victory God, who tires of the endless bloodshed that he caused with his own two hands. He wonders if you’d still love him if you learned of the things he’s done in these past violent years. All the mortal blood that he’s spilled would surely make you hate him, you’ve always loved these foolish little creatures after all, but maybe you could find it in your heart to forgive him. 

Yandere Victory God who never stops searching for you, despite his mother, the Goddess of War’s orders to stop this ‘fruitless endeavor’ and to focus on his duty in the battlefield. He cannot give up, he’s listened to your stories before. Of friends and fellow Gods who’ve faded away from existence because they were forgotten. He remembers your tears, and how he wanted to kiss them away from your skin. He doesn’t want you to be just another forgotten God.

Yandere Victory God, who catches wind of words whispered between old mortals, that the God of Mercy is in the Ivory Isles. Being held captive by a wretched creature that wants the wars to wipe out mortals forever. 

Faius was analyzing the map on his table, he had cleaned it of all the wooden pieces his mother used to mark their enemies. The scolding he’ll receive later will be worth it, as long as he can spot where the Ivory Isles were. Unfortunately for him, the Ivory Isles were considered a cursed location that many cartographers avoided placing on their maps to avoid bad fortune. 

As he was tracing his finger through the Gaulree Archipelago, the sound of heavy boots stomping through the dirt, followed by what Faius recognizes as feet being dragged across the coarse ground, snapped him out of his focus and he raises his head just in time for one of his lieutenants to enter the tent with a scrawny old man in tow. 

The lieutenant saluted, “Hail, Lord Faius.” He placed his hand on the old man and forced him to kneel, then grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head downwards to the ground like he was bowing. 

Faius waves his hand, “At ease,” His amber eyes drifted to focus on the old man, who had his eyes down to the ground, “I take it this is the priest of [Name] I sent you to search for?” 

The old man must have been only a young lad during the fall of your temple, and your subsequent disappearance. All the other priests and priestesses were either dead, or had gone senile with old age. This man was his only hope for finding you. If he had no valuable information, Faius would probably gut him then have his corpse tied to a pike as a warning to his men to not be so useless. Well, that's what he would've done if he wasn’t your old priest. 

The lieutenant nodded, “Yes, Lord Faius,” He glanced at the old man from the corner of his eye, “We found him at a temple of Dakmes.” 

Faius sneered. Dakmes was one of your few offspring, they were the deity of Tranquility, which was the closest thing to mercy the mortals had these days. He was so close to declaring war on them when he heard that they never bothered to look for you, you were their father for gods’ sake! 

“You are dismissed,” Faius waved off the lieutenant, who saluted, before swiftly leaving the tent. He walked over to the old man, who was still kneeling on the floor. With his sharp gaze, he was able to see that the old man was shaking slightly. 

Faius kneeled down, even in this position he was taller than the mortal, and then forced him to look him in the eyes. Dark brown met amber, and the old man flinched, “L-lord Faius,” The man’s voice was raspy, like he hadn’t drank water in ages, “What do you want from me?” 

Faius hummed, and then stood back up so he could tower over the old man and really enforce who was in power here, his hands stayed clasped behind his back, “You were a priest of [Name] in your youth, weren’t you?” 

The old man nodded, “I… I was,” The look in his eyes told Faius that the man had an inkling of why he was there. 

“Answer me this,” Faius pulled out the dagger he had used to pin down the map, and played with the blade. He smirked when the old man gulped, “Were you there the day he disappeared?” 

At those words, it was like a switch flipped inside the old man as a realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, and his breathing quickened, he started shaking his head frantically, “No… no! I promised them. I- I swore I’d never tell a soul!” He screamed. Faius’ eyes widened, who was ‘them’? Was it a deity? 

“Who are you speaking of?” Faius bent down in front of the old man, who immediately backed away from him but didn’t get very far considering he was basically crawling backwards, “Tell me, now.” He snarled out, gold energy crackling in the room, and his fierce aura scaring the man still. 

“I- I cannot!” The old man cried, tears were now flowing down his face at a rapid pace, “They would kill me if I spoke even a word of it!” 

Faius pressed the dagger against the old man’s throat, who winced when a bit of blood leaked from the freshly formed cut, “If you don’t tell me right now, I’ll be the one to take your worthless little life,” This was it, he was close. He could feel it. If he knew the deity who dared take you away from him, then he’d rescue you, and things would go back to normal again. You and him, together. Just like how it was meant to be. 

“It was Qhetohr!” The old man shrieked, “Qhetohr took Lord [Name]-” But before he could finish his words, the old man froze mid-sentence, and then black smoke started to pour from his mouth and then curled around his neck, and around his head. Faius immediately backed away, but that didn’t stop a bit of the smoke from wrapping itself around his wrist. 

The smoke solidified around, and then tightened. Faius winced at the sharp pain, it set his nerves on fire and nearly made him fall to his knees, but he was able to balance himself. Unfortunately for your ex-priest, he did not have the fortune of being a god, and the following sight was visceral. 

The black smoke that wrapped itself around the old man tightened to the point that Faius could hear the bones in his neck creaking, and the skull starting to crack from the applied pressure. The sounds only continued, growing louder and more frequent, till with one final wet pop, the smoke slowly receded from the old man. Leaving only a bloody and mutilated mess of what used to be the old man’s head. 

Most mortals, even some of the gods, would gag at the sight but Faius only frowned. He could care less about the mess, instead he focused on the old man’s dying words.

Qhetohr was one of the oldest deities in the pantheon, and one of the most dangerous ones too. The deity of destruction and the void. They were the most reclusive of the old gods, yet at the same time the most feared, for good reason too. The gory image in front of him was no doubt their work. Faius glared at the black smoke that still clung tightly to his wrist, it felt like it was biting into him and injecting venom into his system like a snake. 

He could worry about it later, a little pain was something he could handle if it meant he’ll find you. 

Faius called some of his men to clean up the body, and then went back to his map. He wiped away the old man’s blood from his blade. He admired the engraved dove on its hilt, your patron animal. Faius stabbed the dagger back into the parchment, and resumed his search for the Ivory Isles. 

He had a deity to blame, to fight, to kill and now all he needed to do was find you. 

“I’ll be with you again soon, [Name],” Faius murmurs under his breath, “Just be patient…” 

Yandere Victory God, whose men have noticed that he’s been getting more brutal with his attacks. He always loved a good battle, fighting was something that just came naturally to him as a son of War and Glory, and it was one of the few things that was able to take his mind off of you. But there was something different now. It was like he had gotten hungrier for blood, and violence.

Yandere Victory God who’s started raiding different villages and towns, all in search for a map or a cartographer willing to overlook the curse and tell him where the Ivory Isles were. Were his methods crueler than necessary? Sure, you could say that, but it was for a good cause. If he brought back the god of mercy, then things would become peaceful once more, and he’d be able to have his beloved back in his arms. 

Yandere Victory God who has become darker than before. He was never the kindest, nor was he the most compassionate, but he wasn’t like… this. He was harder on his men, pushed them to be more ruthless, and many of them lost whatever humanity they still had left in them that the seemingly ceaseless wars hadn’t taken. 

Yandere Victory God who dedicates every head he severs, every village he burns to the ground, and every death that happens at his hands, to you. This was all in his efforts to look for you after all, he wasn’t some bloodthirsty brute who took pleasure in this. No, no. He was your knight in shining armor, like the ones in all of those stories mortals loved to write. 

Yandere Victory God who can tell that the black smoke was doing something to him. Making him more sadistic and cruel, but was it really so bad? He could never do this before, not when he was worried about what you’d think of him for killing all these mortals. He still cared about what you thought about him, yes, but he’s sure you’ll be able to understand why he did this. You were always so understanding, that’s just one of the many things he loved about you. 

Yandere Victory God who finally found a cartographer willing to sell her soul for a hefty bag of gold coins, and gives him a map that can take him to the Ivory Isles. 

Yandere Victory God who wastes no time in taking his mother’s ship and boarding it with some of his men, the crew accommodates him without question and they set sail for the Ivory Isles. His face is like stone, cold and unmoving, but inside he’s like an excited child about to get his favorite treat after waiting patiently to be rewarded. 

Yandere Victory God who finally smiles for the first time in a long time when he sees the large pale structures in the distance, the bones that make up the outer layer of the Ivory Isles. You’re just within reach, and soon things will be perfect once more. He’ll rip Qhetohr apart, limb from limb, and offer their remains up to you, his perfect god. 

Faius steps onto the cursed land's soil, and immediately shivers. There is an evil energy on this land, no wonder cartographer’s refuse to place it on their maps. He hopes that it hasn’t tainted you, but even if it has he’ll be able to fix it. 

He feels the black smoke curl tighter around his wrist, and hum with a renewed energy. He winces as he feels it dig deeper into his skin. It was like an ant biting into his flesh with the force of a shark. 

But he steadies himself, he must remain strong if he wants to rescue you after all. 

Faius stares off into the distance, where he sees a large, crumbling tower that looks nearly identical to the bones surrounding the island. That must be the prison holding you. 

His hand grips tighter on the sword around his waist, “Soon, [Name]... Soon you’ll be back in my arms again,” Faius whispers to himself, “Right where you belong.”

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

It's unfathomable, even more so when you realize this isn't the first time Israel has done this. She was a baby. The men were so obviously red crescent medics, and still, Israeli soldiers shot and killed them.

It wasn't a misfired bomb. It was guns. They knew what they were targeting.

Anyone who defends this, for whatever religion you believe in, even if you believe in nothing at all, I can only hope the afterlife brings you your deserved suffering on a platter. You're disgusting, vile creatures, who must've snuck onto the Earth because there is no way in nature that you are human. Die.

نَّا ِلِلَّٰهِ وَإِنَّا إِلَيْهِ رَاجِعُونَ

Save the children of Palestine. Protect the medics. Free Palestine. 🇵🇸

idk if i’m the only one who thought about this but i feel as if the bullying Mammon gets from his brothers is an example of how people in real life sometimes treat black people, like scum. you gotta remember, Mammon, is the only one in his family who has dark skin, it’s like he’s the LITERAL black sheep in the family of all these white lambs.