ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth) header
ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth) profile picture
Joined January 2026
Photo by ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth)Photo by ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth)Photo by ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth)Photo by ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth)Photo by ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth)Photo by ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth)Photo by ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth)Photo by ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth)Photo by ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth)Photo by ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! (@throughfilth)
—— I c-c-can’t die, motherfucker!
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⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ arthur warren. writer of fiction. spent childhood in a hospital, lived in the streets for a few years until his first book "the black dog" became a success. sometimes he gets too lost in his own mind and stories. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀
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ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! retweeted
lovely—eyed. death—touched.
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Choking. Choking on something. Choking on something fleshy.
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scratching at the door. let her in?
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—;
i am destroying myself so other people can't. it's the worst kind of control.. but it's the only form i know.
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ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! retweeted
she hunts alone, hurts alone, in her castle on the hill, where no one comes or no one goes.
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She stares down at her leg, whimpering. It’s… bad.
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Her eyes glimmer, like a wild animal’s. Her head lulls, her lips open. “Ssss’okay. You’re p-pretty”.
' clean ' may be relative ; she's been on the road for days and it's been so hot... she freezes when she sees the other , eyes wide . "I'm sorry— i thought this place was abandoned . i— " she just needed a place to rest .
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ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! retweeted
⠀i wondered how it would feel to be touched and not be afraid.
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ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! retweeted
🩹༌། ྀ₊
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ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ ! retweeted
⠀then suddenly you’re left all alone with your body that can’t love you and your will that can’t save you.
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STARTER—; How did @SibyllineSong manage to get inside her home? She stares in wonder. She looks so… clean.
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Clutching her abdomen, bent over. One of her meals managed to hurt her.
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Once they’re inside, her whole demeanor changes. She stands up straight, moves the hair out of her face. She feels safe, here. “S-Sit down!” She giggles, pointing at a filthy, plastic-covered couch, before disappearing upstairs. She’ll have to go look!
he has never minded getting a little dirty. he likes filth. "oh wow. it's... 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺. very ad hoc." he doubts he'll be staying longer than he has to. "you said you had a gift?"
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Her head tilts, eyes covered by dirty hair. “Dinner…” she says, almost to herself, her free hand tapping a nameless tune onto the ground. Come out, come out.
Val leans in slightly , as if trying to get a better look. he heeds her warning , keeping his voice low . “what is its?”
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