݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. (@TRUTINOR) profile picture

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READ WARNINGS.
Joined October 2016
Photo by  ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. (@TRUTINOR)Photo by  ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. (@TRUTINOR)Photo by  ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. (@TRUTINOR)Photo by  ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. (@TRUTINOR)Photo by  ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. (@TRUTINOR)Photo by  ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. (@TRUTINOR)Photo by  ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. (@TRUTINOR)Photo by  ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. (@TRUTINOR)
you're still here but just check to make sure. all you aspired to do was endure.
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⠀ xn--sal-x96a.xn--6ii ok guys this is still Bothering Me so ive decided to try splitting zep in half and putting the evil somewhere else (@brixtcn) so if u see me responding to Old Rps with this new acct don’t ask… it makes sense in my head…. also Hi ⠀
Replying to @TRUTINOR
/ guys im conflicted pls help do i 1. make zep more aggressive/antagonistic 2. leave him as a stinky kicked puppy n put the Mean Urges into a new oc
48%increase evil
52%leave him ALONE
29 votes • Final results
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 ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. retweeted
Not enough James fanfiction so I have to draw selfinsert 😔
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 ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. retweeted
A puppy with homophobia in its eyes
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 ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. retweeted
rewatched weapons for austin abrams
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 ݁‍    𝑨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧. retweeted
just saw a gas station pill called "the 1986 challenger disaster" and i almost bought it
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⠀ ( pause. considering. stubbing the joint out on whatever looks like it won’t melt and leaving it there, back turned to the beaming slav. something doesn’t feel right about this, buuut … ) y’gonna pay me to sleep in bed with you? ⠀
( karol giggles, rolling over and giving zep a beaming, albeit sleepy grin. it’s interesting that he’s still here, but then again, he hung around to rob him last time. ) Zep. In bed. I take page out of Czech book and pay you if I having to.
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⠀ ( once again, looking at clarey like he’s insane, eyes opening wide beneath synched brows. ) i can spell, asshole. ( hands curl around clarey’s wrists to throw them off. no touchy. ) just——don’t say anything about this, got it? ⠀
I didn’t know you could spell. ( he’s too high to be anything other than earnest, eyes wide. he grabs zep’s face with his hands, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. ) It’s okay if you can’t spell, Zeppelin. I won’t tell.
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⠀ ( he’s speechless — a feat when it comes to zep. lips part but fail to voice anything. he shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand, brain trying to catch up to whatever the fuck is going on. ) i don’t wanna see that shit! ⠀
( a wry smile, nodding, too high to really be inhibited enough to not pretend like he hasn’t seen the types of videos he’s describing. ) Mmhm. Always innocent to start. Like…mm. Weed. And then some money. It very…formula. Maybe if you good boy I showing you some time.
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⠀ ( fuck, that is NOT what he was expecting him to say. coughing out smoke hard enough to make his eyes water, voice a startled rasp. ) what the fuck? you serious? ( cough cough. jesus christ. ) like, guys with other guys? ⠀
No, no. Scary man pay for sex there. ( half mumbled into his pillow, an arm thrown lazily over the other side of the bed. ) And you stupid sweet nice enough to say yes, I thinking.
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⠀ why’s’at? mob gonna make me their drug mule or somethin’? ( lingering, definitely lingering, like he doesn’t want the conversation to end. tonight’s been kinda fun. not sure he’s ever been called sweet before. ) ⠀
( a little groan, face almost entirely in the pillow. he doesn’t even want to think about how he’s going to feel in the morning. everything feels like clouds right now, and that’s nice. no reason to ruin it. ) You sweet boy, you knowing? Never go to Czechia.
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⠀ stop tryin’a get me in your bed, gaybo. ( grumbling but amused. he feels strangely pleased that he managed to help — that karol is safe in bed, feeling better. must be a gooey strain of weed. speaking of which, he toddles over … ⠀
( karol crawls along his bed, relishing in the softness of the blanket, sighing contentedly as his head hits the pillow. he toes his socks off one at a time before burrowing under the blankets. ) Be good boy and lay down. Stop being bitch.
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⠀ to pick up the burned - out dregs of his spliff, sucking the remainder down as he flicks off the main light. ) y’need a bucket? more water? ⠀
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⠀ ( his head ducks at the announcement and the looks that follow. motherfucker. clarence is so lucky he’s not sober. ) * fuck. ( a disgruntled snap. lowering his voice with a sulky frown. ) yeah, so what? ⠀
( he gasps, shocked. ) It’s a JOURNAL? ( too loud. far too loud. people turn to look at them, annoyance clear on their faces. clarence at least has the wherewithal to look sheepish, blinking away from the crowd and focusing on zep’s face. ) Oops. It’s a *journal?
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⠀ yup. you’re real special, k - man. ( strained as he tugs, finally managing to slide the fabric over karol’s clown - sized feet and free him from his confines. great, now he’s in a room with a guy in boxers and ugly socks. epic. ) … ⠀
( karol’s beyond useless, managing only to roll over, laughing hysterically as zep pulls. ) This — this you fault. ( maybe the real reason he doesn’t get high has nothing to do with losing his job and everything to do with losing all sense of coordination. for a man whose +
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⠀ get under the covers, man. i ain’t need to see this much of you. like, ever. ( averting his eyes with a grimace. cool tattoos, though. ) ⠀
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⠀ ( he lazily pulls his head up, bleary eyes opening to watch clarey’s hand move, fixated for a moment. he swallows. ) fuck off, ceebee. why would i bring my journal to a party? ( incredulous, letting it slip. ) s’private. duh. ⠀
( his fingers edge towards zep’s inner thigh, mind fixated on the texture of the seam of his jeans, the way it differs from the normal fabric. ) Zeppelin, come on. Let me read. Who would I tell? ( voice is whiny, even to his own ears. )
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⠀ ( it feels good. warm and tingly where clarey’s fingers are idling. he uncrosses his feet, unthinkingly encouraging the touch. ) fit for wuh? s’just. stuff. anything. like, whatever. ( a little embarrassed, waving off the questions. ) ⠀
( his mouth falls open, a little startled at the admission. truthfully, he’d never seen real evidence that zep knew how to read, let alone write. he stares, thought process getting continually distracted by how *nice zep’s jeans feel under his hands. he pets his leg idly, +
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⠀ ( zep doesn’t bite it back — he whirls around at the sound of the commotion and bursts into laughter at the sight, giggling wholeheartedly. ) stop—stopstop—stay still—! ( he’s grabbing what he can of the trousers and trying to … ⠀
You tired. You sleep. Here. ( he drops the shirt to the ground, fingers fumbling with his trousers. they get caught around his knees, making him tumble, landing on the bed face first. he flails, biting back laughter, trying ineffectually to kick them the rest of the way off. )
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⠀ hoist them down. doesn’t feel as intimate when karol’s flopping around like a fish. ) you fuckin’ dumbass. ⠀
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