face smeared in blood.

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐒  𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘  𝐀  𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄  /  𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐘𝐎𝐔  ,  𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄  𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒  .      a  brute  decision      [    either  to  shove  a  monster  truck  down  that  little  girl’s  throat  for  her  shrill  cries  or  to  break  a  fishbowl  over  the  guardian’s  head    ]      to  be  made  ,  the  endless  possibilities  that  run  through  such  a  little  mind  .      but  you’ve  no  idea  of  the  repercussions  of  your  actions      :      not  at  this  age  ,  not  when  the  more  prominent  thing  on  your  mind  is  the  absolute  abyss  .      stark  blue  orbs  ,  near  lifeless  ,  only  see  the  images  /  daydreams  ahead  ,  fingers  clenching  around  the  crayon  .      you  are  ten  years  old  ,  and  you  are  without  parents      —      your  father  merely  died  yesterday  .

you  were  sent  here  ,  adamant  /  against  your  will      —      but  you’ve  long  been  in  silence  ,  pondering  and  attempting  to  plan  .      the  crayon  drags  harshly  down  the  paper  ,  near  ripping  the  surface  the  more  harsh  your  movements  become  .      the  sharp  view  of  black  in  your  peripheral  halts  any  further  movement      :      languidly  ,  the  drawing  utensil  is  dropped  .      without  turning  ,  your  voice  is  barely  heard  ,  just  above  a  whisper      [    one  not  belonging  to  what  is  supposed  to  someone  so  innocent  /  pure    ]      almost  eerie  ,      ❛    You’re  bugging  me  .      Move  .    ❜

                                        —      @dismalest​

      Disorganized  ;  untidy  ,  it was amazing that he of poor self care could look somewhat clean in garb required of the students  --  a student with no true future  ,  he saw himself as  .  Dark eyes watched the figure in creepish manner  ,  his hands fumbling with another as the pale faced individual mustered up courage of what he should be saying to the one who peaked interest  .  No  ,  it was as though the words were stuck in his esophagus  -- his skeletally thin throat feeling nothing more but choked up on each word  .  He could feel the sweat began to form along his temple  --  jumping even at the slighted words softly uttered from the girl of great stature in his doe-like eyes  .

     Mustering up the courage  ,   the infatuated boy quietly shook his head  ,  wiping his sweaty palms against his school uniform before approaching with true meekness --- perhaps to come of as though he was not as vile  ,  rotten  ,   disgusting as one such as he truly was  .

     ---- I’m just a creep.

@kttcn​ said: YOU. i like u :) i'm glad we had the chance to meet this year. lord only knows we need more KS blogs :) :) :)

@kttcn​ said: Happy New Year! Here's something to sweeten your inbox: Isaac! you amazing piece of fudge brownie! i say it once, i say it again: always super glad to see KS rp blogs around. You do an amazing job, keeping all the very intense horror of the KS lore, while remaining true to the comic without woobifying anything. We WILL write more in the future, totes promise! keep being awesome and keep on writing my friend! your presence on the dash is always a delight! can't wait to write with you some more!