Profiles Of Harm

"Well, some of them. Others just like the night ‘cause broad daylight makes everything less scary." Not many horror stories take place on a clear day, for obvious reasons.

His lenses’ glow was sharply pointing towards the dark ground. “The point is: I don’t intimidate people when someone doesn’t agree with my thoughts. However, there were lots of people who wanted to wash my face with a strong hose, like I was a wasp’s small nest. There were crowds who forcefully grabbed me by the edge of my clothing to roughly wipe soap and old, hard sponges on the face that angered locals. Anything that hurts me won’t turn around and start walking without a bleeding scar.” Both lenses were orange before switching to a dark blue color, followed by soft whimpering and sniffling.

"That makes sense. I still believe that broad daylight can be scary if you add something else to the light." What would that be? Then again, he thinks he’s an example of a "walking daylight nightmare" to communities.

And as for the story itself, she’s glad that Mr. Flowers’s being a “menace” wasn’t the first thing she heard about him. Even it if was, she would have known there was another side to the story, but she tended to want to avoid non-supernatural criminals, just for self defense. It’s a good thing she has at least a somewhat clear idea of the other side of the story. "I’m not really one for violence," she admits, "but it sounds like people are attacking you first. Just for being weird! And what’s wrong with that?" She happens to like weird things. What’s the world without unusual stuff? Boring, that’s what.

"Yeah, maybe," is all she said to the daylight comment. It wasn’t that daytime threats weren’t scary at all; they were just, in general, less scary than nighttime threats. At least, that’s how it seems.

"That's...It has been the question I wanted to know: what's wrong with me expressing what I think about certain things, let alone dress up like...like this?" His lenses start fading to black before a red dot appears in the center of each lens and spread out to the edges as rings. Underneath the face paint is not a pretty sight as he stands up and walks towards a tree. "I don't understand why people would rather see me sick or...AUGH!!" Mr. Flowers furiously strikes the tree in front of him with his reinforced, prosthetic arm. His anger subsides when he pulls out a large syringe, inflicts himself with it on the neck, and extracts blood while gasping from the prickly touch and sighing after pulling the tool off. It isn't a conventional method to handle anger, but it's effective since he enjoyed getting shots at a young age.

"Just add paranoia and that'll capture anyone's attention." Paranoia, really? That's the basis of all things scary, he thought. It's still scarier at night, so he assumes he lost the mini debate.

not be mentally ill

have good grades

to dislike reading

have a happy family

enjoy exercising/not enjoy exercising

to have different opinion

to reblog/not reblog certain posts

to be a gay white boy

to be a straight white boy

to be a bisexual white girl

(to be any race/gender/sexual orientation)

to not like porn

to not ship destiel

to not be in a fandom

스파이는 역시 나쁜놈 같아요 엔지하면

"It’ll help me see where I’m going! I just gotta be careful not to shine it in certain people’s faces. Light’s their weakness," she says casually, almost forgetting the idea of darkness demons is weird to most people.

"There’s a story behind the fact I don’t get along with people. I can share with you why. You just need to ask," he exclaimed calmly.

"Is it the same people as before? I think I understand." Then again, his goggles can’t take a lot of light for an extended period.

"Well, some of them. Others just like the night ‘cause broad daylight makes everything less scary." Not many horror stories take place on a clear day, for obvious reasons.

His lenses' glow was sharply pointing towards the dark ground. "The point is: I don't intimidate people when someone doesn't agree with my thoughts. However, there were lots of people who wanted to wash my face with a strong hose, like I was a wasp's small nest. There were crowds who forcefully grabbed me by the edge of my clothing to roughly wipe soap and old, hard sponges on the face that angered locals. Anything that hurts me won't turn around and start walking without a bleeding scar." Both lenses were orange before switching to a dark blue color, followed by soft whimpering and sniffling.

"That makes sense. I still believe that broad daylight can be scary if you add something else to the light." What would that be? Then again, he thinks he's an example of a "walking daylight nightmare" to communities.

She watches closely as he builds, though she knows Danielle would be the one to learn things easily. Misty’s just focused on what the final product will be.

And it’s a flashlight. Her flashlight, apparently. “Oh, thanks!” she says, happily accepting it. “I’ll be sure to use it!” A present is definitely on her list of what she wasn’t expecting today.

Strange. He feels something fuzzy in his heart. Gratitude isn’t something he hears from time to time. Regardless of the new emotion, he smiles with yellow, glowing lenses. “You’re welcome, Misty. I’m sure you will. Not a lot of people are careful in the dark, so…I hope this helps.” The darkness can provoke danger, metaphorically and literally, he thought. Maybe that’s the source to his problems.

It’s still a difficult concept for him: expressing thoughts and true emotions. He keeps holding on to his experience from the family, trying to hide any vulnerability from his goggles and his voice. The thought of showing how you feel towards someone develops insecurity inside Mr. Flowers.

"It’ll help me see where I’m going! I just gotta be careful not to shine it in certain people’s faces. Light’s their weakness," she says casually, almost forgetting the idea of darkness demons is weird to most people.

"There's a story behind the fact I don't get along with people. I can share with you why. You just need to ask," he exclaimed calmly.

"Is it the same people as before? I think I understand." Then again, his goggles can't take a lot of light for an extended period.

"No problem! I don’t know about EVERYONE, but I think what I did learn is worth something!" He reminds her of all those real characters she’s met; they all scare most people away, but not her. In fact, her fascination with the dark side is what makes some people uneasy.

To be honest, she wasn’t expecting to get an answer. “Thanks,” is her only reply at first. She considers adding “I get that a lot,” but it sounds a little vain. She doesn’t get the implication of the way he’s saying it, that is, if the implication is there. Most people think of her as cute like a small child, cheerful and seemingly naive. Which is why these people don’t tend to take her seriously.

Mr. Flowers pulls out several items: a small phone case made of rubber, a hollow metal cylinder, a dynamo, his pair of cracked lenses, a circular cap, two bright LED bulbs, and several wires and pieces of metal. He slowly shows Misty each step of the “recycling” process. While constructing, Mr. Flowers’ goggles emit gentle sounds that range from quick beeps to long hums. Before completing the process, he carefully smoothed out any rough edges to make sure the metal is safe to touch. The outcome of every material is a functional flashlight with adjustable lenses and a lever to crank the dynamo and produce light. No materials wasted.

He gives the new flashlight to her, smiling. “That’s enough recycling for now. Tell me if you need anything built from me, but anything complicated needs time. This was something simple.”

"Oh, nice. It’s a valuable piece of knowledge you have. I’m sure the people you know have protected you whenever you needed help, right?" Who knew the dark side would be so interesting for Mr. Flowers?

That doesn’t sound good. His voice wasn’t loud or confident when he stated his mind. He’s not very comfortable displaying personal thoughts to anyone, and this moment is one of several reasons why. Mr. Flowers was sure he meant it sincerely, not in a playful tone. He meant to say it as a compliment to highlight maturity and beauty.

She watches closely as he builds, though she knows Danielle would be the one to learn things easily. Misty’s just focused on what the final product will be.

And it’s a flashlight. Her flashlight, apparently. “Oh, thanks!” she says, happily accepting it. “I’ll be sure to use it!” A present is definitely on her list of what she wasn’t expecting today.

Strange. He feels something fuzzy in his heart. Gratitude isn't something he hears from time to time. Regardless of the new emotion, he smiles with yellow, glowing lenses. "You're welcome, Misty. I'm sure you will. Not a lot of people are careful in the dark, so...I hope this helps." The darkness can provoke danger, metaphorically and literally, he thought. Maybe that's the source to his problems.

It's still a difficult concept for him: expressing thoughts and true emotions. He keeps holding on to his experience from the family, trying to hide any vulnerability from his goggles and his voice. The thought of showing how you feel towards someone develops insecurity inside Mr. Flowers.