#offensivemedia

— ★ ` * . ☾  ❛     greetings Ms. Killjoy , would you fancy some iced tea ? i’ve added citrus to it for a long and healthy life . please do try some !     ❜ proud is he , offering the tray of the beverage he’s made . Sundays have always been a little more laid back , however , he still rarely gets the opportunity to do something for the people . today just happened to be a day without a list of chores .

This is bad, this is bad, and this might be probably the lowest of his lows and fuck, that is saying a lot. The very least Connor could even do is joke about just how bad  it is. At least his convict uniform probably isn’t as noticeable to the red, red, and more neon red that clouded his gaze, he quipped. His eyes were frightfully shot, having suffered the consequences of submerging into the depths of hell equipped with vision adjusted to all the tints and shades of cement.

When Connor first received his assignment—  that he was going to be sent to hell, he didn’t think of it much. Rather, it was a misunderstanding— assuming  he was going to be shot through the head for a laugh. Now, he realizes the fire and brimstone that ██████ heralded revealed themselves as the bricks of a massive purgatory ghetto. Hell, it doesn’t even seem like most of them were suffering or repenting or anything. Just a whole populace of jackass sodomites having fun stirring shit where the cops finally can’t get them. Despite that, it wasn’t the idea of facing ‘eternal punishment’ that irked him, or— really, it was the sight of hundreds upon hundreds of demons. Eight-feet tall and unrestrained, not something he’s alien to, but he’s apparently the only Caucasian thing in sight. Connor pulled that grey beanie over his head just ‘till it covered an eye. 

And just after adjusting his hat did he have the misfortune of bumping into the sweaty backside of a gargantuan bull-furry, staggering away, and then in a comedic series of events, tripped over his foot and fell through two metal doors right into the entryway of a news-casting station.  ❝I--, uh, shit- sorry!❞

    “ Killjoy, is it? What a rousing name! Why I’m quite thrilled to finally meet your acquaintance ---- a pleasure, yes yes! How wonderful that fate has kindly granted us both an opportunity to make familiar at this table! ” a sharp smile, dark gloves taking the hands that are porcelain and red painted fingernails. shaking them vigorously from excitement as a static crackle of a chuckle emits from the radio host’s throat.

its like a ghost wrote this

@offensivemedia

but do he eat the booty

( the real question here is would you let this thing anywhere near your ass