#beartsar

anonymous said;

        He’s just a big, handsome bully. This is what Alina reminds herself of as she enters the room where they’ve been keeping Ivan sequestered, hands bound to prevent him using his power when there aren’t any other Heartrenders around to keep his pulse calm. But now Tamar lingers in the doorway, and Alina’s grateful for her presence. She sits down in the chair opposite Ivan, setting a tray down on the otherwise empty table. “You must be hungry.” She gestures to the bread, cheese, and water she’s come to offer him. “If you can behave, I’ll unbind your hands. I’d rather not have to feed you myself.” 

alex i don’t know how to tell u this but like....... it is actually YOU who is the delight to have on the dash :|c u write so many muses to utter perfection, and a lot of them are very gritty, heart wrenching & complex muses, but u do it with such enthusiasm and care and skill, i would say it looks effortless ( it does ) but mostly its like... utterly inspiring. if u told me today that u wanted to add a whole baked potato to ur muse list, i KNOW i’d end up crying about it by the end of the night & thoroughly invested in your ideas. and ooc u are, as the poets say: a complete babe. so sweet, so fun, so creative always. the love i have for u can be explained thusly:

She starts running as soon as the Fold starts disappearing. She doesn’t hesitate when she hits the discolored sand; she’ll start in the heart of the carnage and work her way out to a medik tent, where she can help anyone else who can make it that far. Movement catches her eye, and she directs towards it, skidding to a stop and catching the man as he drops.

@beartsar asked: ❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound . loud and deafening silence / accepting

saint she might be, but she still bled like everyone else. it was hardly worthy of concern and she’d already grabbed herself a needle and thread, so used to such pain and having to tend to herself without any help, but ivan seemed to have a very different idea of how it ought be handled.

send me some positivity about your favourite blogs on anon and I'll @ them

@beartsar

She’d idolized him, back in the day. The Darkling’s right hand, bear claw amplifier, ruthless. She’s always been a better spy than soldier, but Ivan’s reputation was something she always coveted, always aimed for.

But that was Before.

Nadya doesn’t waste time with greetings or empty pleasantries. Seeing him, here in Ketterdam, in her city, hurt. Why did someone like him somone like her get to survive the war? Why didn’t terrible things happen to the most deserving? She crosses her arms, hiding the ink on her right forearm. Throwing in with a gang was the best option for surviving the city when there’s no other support, and she’d rather die than let a pleasure house take her in.