Why I don't want to live on this planet anymore reason #465:

Incest stories on Watt— 

I haven't even finished the thought that the earth begins to rumble underneath my feet. I shriek at the suddenness of it, but, with arms flailing, I swivel towards the cause of these tremors. It's coming from somewhere beyond the horizon—I shield my eyes from the glaring sun, and just as I do so, shimmering globs begin to sprout in a massive line, one by one, as if on cue.

What the fuck? It's hard to maintain my balance, and I stumble back and forth. A shaky look around tells me that I'm on some kind of desert-like plateau, when I swear that, only moments ago, I was about to enter a fastfood place. What the fuck is happening? I think again, until realisation hits me like a freight train.

I must've summoned the...inbreds!

At this point, my heart is hammering against my ribcage—what do I do, turn and run, or stand like a potato? I can't tear my eyes away from the incoming mob, and my mouth dries out faster than a pair of panties under the midday sun. I lick my lips to try and restore some moisture to them, but my tongue is like sandpaper. I'm sweating bullets, my clothes are drenched, and I just remembered that I'm practically in the middle of nowhere. Fucking mint. I'm gonna get trampled by a bunch of hillbillies. 

The silhouettes become morph into human beings, and I buckle over with a dry heave. They all look...the same...similar features, similar clothes...they're like clones, but at the same time, they're not clones...they're just...

...the inbreds...

"What is wrong with you people??" I scream, after another brief convulsion (good thing I didn't get lunch after all, that would've been a waste of money), pointing with an accusatory finger at the incoming wave of brother-husbands and sister-wives, "You need some spiritual cleansing! You need to find your inner fucking qi to restore your brain's oxygen supply! You need to direct yourself to the nearest Buddist Monastery and meditate on your life choices!!! Inbreeding is wrong! You're all going to die from disease! "

Like mindless zombies, the mass just keeps approaching, and as they do so, I see that it's too late for them. The disease has already struck—the dramatic wart break-outs, the bald spots, the rotting teeth...

It can't be! Inbred anti-vaxxers!

"Who in the name of all that is pure and innocent looks at their brother/sister and thinks, 'I'd tap that!'" I yell as I rummage through my purse. Ranting is the only thing that's keeping the adrenaline pumping through my veins. My hands shake as I pull out useless object after useless objects, until finally, I pull out my rosary beads.  "Who in the name of all that is pure and innocent wishes to read a book in which a love story blossoms between blood relatives?!" I wrap the beads around my knuckles and punch the air—the cross catches the divine light. "Go back from whence you came!" 

Boom. 

-:-

Take a look at the pic below:

WHAT ARE THOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE???? *points at crocs with Nike socks* THE HORROR!!!! HIDE YO WIVES, HIDE YO KIDS!!!!!!!! *slaps a hand over Timmy's virginal eyes* I won't let you ruin your life by looking at this, little Timmy. One life, mine, is enough.

Besides that obvious wardrobe malfunction, the pair looks like your typical lovey-dovey insta couple right? #goals #bae #baby #me&u #2gether4ever #killme #help #pain #secretlycallingforhelp #seriouslyhelpme #thisisnotajoke.

But on closer inspection:

W-WHAT??? *puts on reading glasses* I DIDN'T READ THIS INCORRECTLY. IT ACTUALLY SAYS THAT...

 *projectile vomits* I C-CAN'T I...WHAT IS LOVE? WhaT? THEY'RE C-C *chokes on spit* C-COUS *gags again* COUSINS! 

That last comment got me like:

Fr fam? Dating your cousin is #goals? *slaps* What is wrong with you?? 

*slips on jet pack and flies away*

*realizes that I have peeps to school* *returns*

Real talk. 

For those of you who write Romance stories revolving around incest, please stop. I don't care if it's your sick way of trying to stray from the norm or whatever, stop. Just stop. There's nothing even remotely romantic, awe-inspiring, or panty-wetting, about falling in love and fucking your brother/sister/mother/father/grandmother/grandfather/uncle/aunt. Goddamn, I'm cringing at the mere thought, because on a scale from 'okay' to 'not okay', this is really not fucking okay. It's an off-the-charts kind of nasty. The type of nasty that makes me not want to prod you even with a ten-foot pole.

Instead of writing about incest...why don't you write about, you know, interracial relationships? Since...racial diversity is still kind of an issue on this site...? You could even write about an older couple (60+) falling in love, or a childhood romance, a god/mortal romance, the impossible love story of a potato and a packet of ketchup—there are soooooo many other, non-fucked up relationships you can portray, but you still feel the need to write about incest. 

Let me tell you a little something: nothing good comes out of inbreeding.

Instead of going into scientific mumbo-jumbo, I'll tell you a story, since I'm better at story-telling than science'ing. This story is about good old Charles II of Spain, the last Habsburg ruler of Spain. 

(For crying out loud, why do the images have to be so large and disruptive?)

The first thing you might notice about King Charles II is the fact that he looks a little...odd. I don't want to say ugly, but he definitely appears to be very different to his predecessors and successors. He doesn't look like the most attractive person alive, let's be honest. To think that portrait painting is meant to be a flattering representation of the subject, kind of how we use photoshop today to airbrush celebrities—the whole point is to bring out their best features and make them look as godlike as possible. 

Well, in poor Charles' case, this didn't really seem to work, in fact, if you look him up, a lot of his paintings all show the same deformed features, some more realistically than others. It really makes you think: does he look worse in real-life? 

Yes, he does. The paintings also don't show the myriad of issues he has, but I'll get to that soon. For now, just know that it's not his fault that he looks like this. The Spanish branch of the Habsburg family is known for it's extreme inbreeding. Back then, it was all about keeping that royal bloodline intact, aka, not getting married to any filthy commoners. In fact, Charles' parents, Philip and Mariana were actually uncle and niece...I'll let that sink in.

Anyway, as a result to this stale bloodline, Charles was born with a plethora of health issues; he was mentally + physically disabled and infertile. He started talking late, began to walk at the age of 8, and because of how weak of a child he was, was basically allowed to do as he wished. He never bathed and the only activity he actively engaged in was shooting.

Charles II also had an extreme version of what's called a Habsburg jaw (named after the family because it was a predominant trait), which meant that he could  barely speak, never mind chew properly, and although it's not as obvious in the portrait I added, it's much more evident in others. The poor lad died at the age 39 (not without going a little bonkers towards the end of his days) and because he couldn't have any heirs, he named a nephew as his successor. 

Phew, that turned into some kind of mini-biography on the guy, but y'all get the point. 

Consanguineous relationships/marriages can result in certain medical conditions to rampage down the line (such as dwarfism, which is genetically caused), and it's not something anything should aspire to have. Platonic love with a blood-related relative is acceptable (even though non-related step-sibling relationships still raise eyebrows), but it should never go beyond that. If the only romantic relationship you seem to want to have (or fantasise for other people) is with a brother /sister /mother /father /grandmother/ grandfather /uncle/ aunt, then maybe you need to reconsider your life choices. 

-:-

My eyes fly open and I shoot up into a sitting position on my bed. For a few moments, I'm a little disoriented, but as I begin to familiarise myself with my surroundings, it all starts to make sense "It was all just a dream," I mutter, clutching the bedsheets like my life depended on it. My head starts to swim and I collapse back against the mattress—my eyes are still wide open, even though I'm blind in the pitch-black darkness. 

Just as I pull the blankets up to my chin, and ready myself to fall back asleep, a low grumbling sound makes its way to my ears, followed by sharp stomach pains. Groaning, I curl into foetal position. I shouldn't have put so much salt on my fries, I think to myself, squeezing my eyes shut and grinding my teeth together. A few painful moments inch by, and then the pain subsides, as quickly as it started. I relax my muscles and stretch out my limbs with a yawn, dreading the following morning. Unless I'm the first one up tomorrow, I'll never make it to the bathroom in time to release a spirit ball.

My younger brother comes to mind, but I'm quick to vanquish the image with a disgusted curl of my upper lip.

I've dealt with him for the entirety of his life—I'll let someone else deal with his BS one day. 

🍟🍟🍟

Is there something that you're itching to complain about, but have the good sense not to do so on a public forum? I can do it for you! Feel free to PM me with the topic you want me to rant about, and I won't think twice before adding it here. I'll be waiting!