#helltcngue

we all know he’d use a segway and grin the entire time he’s using it

     Mount Massive changed Miles in a number of ways. The alterations to his habits and his character and his way of life range from the mundane to the earth-shattering. He likes the security of having batteries on standby, now, and it’s rare that he’ll enter a space without first taking notes of all the exits and places to hide. Hands are apt to stay in pockets, thanks to the awkward spaces between digits. Paranoia is a near constant companion, along with exhausting insomnia and whatever else his post traumatic brain has shaken into an unfortunate cocktail.

     And then there’s the fact that he’s dead. Add the Swarm to that, and suddenly the aforementioned list of ailments begins to make a hell of a lot more sense. Turns out a literal lack of humanity carries certain implications with it, most of which can be attributed to an ever-pressing sense of existential dread. It’s bound to take its toll. But there are other things that come packaged with his current state of being. Bodily needs are lower, generally, while his senses have either been heightened or dulled based on what the Walrider deems most necessary. Physical pain is little more than a memory. Yet although his sense of touch and feeling might have dwindled, there are certain things of which Miles is now acutely more aware.

     He’s acquired a sixth sense for the unusual, for things that don’t quite belong among the standard populace. Such entities are rare to encounter, but he’s felt them before, creeping along in the shadows just at the periphery of consciousness. This one just happens to be a touch more bold.

@helltcngue  ||  headcanon questions Can Paul cook? More importantly can he bake?

he’s no chef or anything but he CAN cook. growing up on his own after leaving the group home there were many many things paul had to learn on his own. also when he was homeless he had to come up with creative ways to feed himself. open fires were a frequent thing for him, especially under bridges. and when he stayed at people’s house, crashing on their couches there wasn’t much he could offer in assistance since he couldn’t find a stable job other than helping around the house. so he made cooking one of the priorities. in that time he learned to get by with the basics and cook meat how people liked it. 

now if you’ve been paying attention you’ll know that he does NOT eat any meat besides fish so he does a lot of his own fishing in the area and luckily there are plenty of different types of fish to choose from depending on where you are in the county, but honestly he only fishes out of his own since the rest of the county is infested with Bliss. he just chooses not to partake. while cooking fish he’s learned many different ways to cook it to keep it fresh and exciting. but he doesn’t tire of the same old thing luckily. 

now does he bake? he can follow directions and he won’t burn anything but he doesn’t make it a decision to actively bake on a regular basis. a lot of the community will just bring him baked goods to begin with so he doesn’t really need to do so. ALSO he provides those who do wish to bake fruits from all the trees he has scattered around his house. whatever he can grow he will grow just to have a variety of fruits and vegetables since he doesn’t eat a lot of meat. 

   oh, was he getting worse at this. curiosity killed the cat and jewel was certainly about to be the cat. his patron had steered him in such a specific direction, this was no doubt their plan somehow. a cruel one, if anything. they certainly loved doing such things from the few times he’s received any guidance.

   cults were certainly something new. something he had no interest in joining or being involved in period. somehow he keeps his voice steady enough, accent heavy as a small bit of fear manages to sink to the pit of his stomach. the tiefling reveled in the comfort of being around his own kind, but this was not a situation that he would call comfortable. 

The moon adorns her devil’s horns, and her face in shadow is further obscured by the veil she wears. Only her lips are revealed, which Molly has deemed to be cut in the fashion of a beautifully melancholy mischief.

“The angel of the night,” Molly remarks fondly, as though he’s discovered an old friend. The corner of his mouth curls inadvertently into a smile that mirrors what he sees in her’s, and he looks upon his querent with a great sympathy. “She guards that which we should like kept in the shadows. Secret things. Secluded things. The classified and the covert. The moon behind her seems to indicate a great love. A secret love?”

      “That was BEAUTIFUL.” 

@helltcngue​: never forget you’re my favorite. and I am so sorry. (VIA)

        Who could have predicted that such tragedy would befall the tiefling?   After so much grief and heartache already wracked his heart,   leaving a husk to fearful to live but too cowardly to die,   karmically he’s owed a reprieve,   is he not?   In the story his tragedy fades into nothing more but a grey horizon replaced by the happiness he’d deserved,   a scene full of hope and the love he’d so deeply craved.   Good thing comes to those who wait.   Suffering will always end and find offset.   Tell yourself again and again. 

            Maybe it would have ended that way.   But Ulrich knows the deepest truth of himself will never change.   He is a coward.   And would rather let himself be strung along than be alone.   And strung along he was.   

     After becoming so familiar the pale hand on his cheek burns anew.    Itzaleous may as well have dropped whatever shambles of pretenses remain and struck him.   Ulrich wants nothing more than to shove him away but his body won’t move.   He doesn’t know if it’s his own response or if he’s held there purposefully.   There is no fight to be had here,   anyway.   He,   the useless,   pathetic excuse of a person,   could never bring himself to strike Winslow back.   He couldn’t bring himself to attack Itzal.   All that has changed between now and then is that now he is very certain he will die.   And this time he finds his voice in the well of rage and hurt that spills over in his stomach. 

      ‘   Fuck you.   ‘   his voice is quiet,   faltering from the lump in his throat.   But as soon as the first words leave his mouth his expression finally twists from shock to the mix of emotions running through him.    ‘   Your favorite what?   Your favorite fucking play thing?   Your favorite new vice to use up and throw away to try and feel something other than your own fucking misery?   I really thought I would be too fucking run down and pathetic for a goddamn devil to waste their time on.   Are you so fucking shit at your job you can’t corrupt someone who’s actually happy and has a goddamn life?   You have to pick some kicked dog like ME?   ‘

           It doesn’t mean anything,   none of this does,   he knows Itzal doesn’t care.   But,   Ulrich knows he’s dead as well.   He knows it’s pointless.   He’s suffered once,   he’ll suffer now,   he’ll suffer forever.   Tears spill over and a twisted grin pulls at his features  --  he has one thing on the devil,   at least.