Send my Muse 3 options. My Muse must take one of them.
"Pretty sure my not being human takes me off that particular list."
Was he… delusional?
Frank reached up, took off his coat and offered it to the other man. “Please, wrap up. You’re beginning to show signs of hypothermia.” He was just guessing for it, really. Surely, cold and hallucinating meant something bad.
//AH YES i completely forgot about this piece of shit i’d been working on.
my hand hurts just opening the file.
Red - the blood of angry men!
Black - the dark of ages past!
Red - a world about to dawn!
Black - the night that ends at last!
"Quest for the missing heterosexuals who acknowledge homosexuality is horrifying."
"Because I’m not a wimpy human?"
"Just because you’re a crossdressing faggot doesn’t suddenly abolish you from the list of human beings."
She didn’t know where to start; the amount of health problems the boy suffered, his hatred for himself or his utter hatred and discrimination of the homosexual. She pressed her lips together, green eyes narrowed as if it would help her to see into his mind, to see the way she could solve his problems and help him.
Health problems could be fixed, they could be helped to make that suffering a little less, but the problems that lay deeper within his psyche were harder to help or manage. Amelia shouldn’t be talking considering just who she was and how damaged and broken her own psyche was. She had no place trying to fix him when she couldn’t help herself.
She was silent for a great deal of time, trying to figure out how to approach this. “Listen…” she started but that was all she really had. Amelia bit down on her lip then, deciding to run with the hatred of homosexuals. “They didn’t kidnap you because they are homosexual. Heterosexual people kidnap and rape more than homosexuals…” or so she assumed, she didn’t wan to discriminate against either sexuality but this was a hard conversation to have. It sounded like his father hated him. She grimaced. “Homosexual isn’t bad.”
During the woman’s silence, Franks’ entire attention reverted back to his coffee. Lowering his head, he stared into his cup, raising it to his lips to take another sip. Under the table, his knees pressed together, and the boy was becoming blissfully absorbed into a world of nothing but coffee, coffee grinding, coffee beans, cream, milk, sugar once more. Eyes falling shut, he could almost imagine himself not being there, but instead dipping into a bath of warm coffee, cooled down with cold milk, sugar poured in to soften his skin, grind away dead layers, ha-
He was brought to his senses when Amelia spoke longer than one word again. Snapping open his eyes, he stared up at her, swallowing the mouthful of coffee he’d been holding for the full time she’d been silent.
"It is," he stated very firmly, and with his first cup drained, he went for the second.
Why wasn’t hekicking up a fuss? Amelia could only stare down at him, slightly surprised he wasn’t more affected by this. She understood trauma, maybe this was such a way to deal with it. He went into a happy place and Amelia went to another country to train for ten years and devote her life to the monster who ruined her life.
She wasn’t sure who was more messed up at this point. Her or him? Realizing he didn’t care much for her outburst or cared enough to join her, she sat back down, a frown on her lips.
She wasn’t sure how to act with this kid, how to treat him. Quite an enigmatic boy and Amelia prided herself upon reading people.
"What?" he finally spoke, and what did he talk about? She didn’t know whether to touch upon the fact he thought he was defective but then he spoke about how the worst part was that they were homosexual. She tried to hold back the disgust for the boy as she took a personal offence, rubbing her temples. “I think you’re misunderstanding the gravity of the situation. You were kidnapped. Someone grabbed you from your home or off the street against your will with possible intentions to rape or sexually assault you—it doesn’t matter if they’re homosexual.”
Frank prided himself in his ability to not give a shit. It was one of the few things that stopped him from frequently ending up on the floor from his heart racing too hard against his lung. The body wasn’t quite adjusted to having the heart on the wrong side, and his lungs weren’t in the most proper condition to begin with, since he was allergic to half the things in the air.
He looked up at her again when she sounded offended at his words about homosexuality. It was in the 1890’s, surely she should know about the problem that homosexuals were on society.
The fact he frequently found himself having fantasies about men didn’t help him much, either. Must’ve been touched by a gay boy.
"They want to rape or sexually assault me because they’re homosexual men and I’m a guy. I don’t have any value of myself - I’m allergic to many things, my heart is on the right side of my… for… snore axe? I’m not an alchemist, I’m only very good in strict regimes, handling the law and doing the things I need to do. My father would likely pay for me to be kept by them if they didn’t intend to have homosexual sex with his only child."