#cyclebcrn

 ﹣﹣  ·  𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡  · //  ❖  @cyclebcrn​  whispered:

                                     ❛   even  the  dark  needs  things  to  eat ,   things  to  love .  ❜

my  hand  clenched  around  the  dagger’s  handle  ;    the  sickening  sound  of  its  extraction  still  fresh  in  my  mind  .    the  blade  was  covered  in  red  ,    too  much  ,    unnatural  ---    it  seeped  down  over  the  quillions  to  my  fingers  .

                                                            the  pen  in  my  hand  had  just  burst  .

it’s  just  ink  .    all  that  over  a  couple  words  ,    &&  a  little  spilled  ink  .    all  along  i  was  afraid  of  you  --    you  just  wanted  to  help  me  .    

@cyclebcrn 

-

“...”

▌▓ ✖   ❝  ᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗ  ❞  ┆  𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. ;; @cyclebcrn​ screamed:

                 ❛  listen,   bucko.   as  much  as  i  admire  you  trying  to  get  yourself  killed,  don’t.  ❜

𝙵rustration  pinched  his  features  ,    lips  pulling  downward  into  a  near  scowl  .    while  it  was  hard  to  imagine  what  any  son  of  his  sister  &&  ...    mark  might  have  been  like  ,    yancy  struck  all  of  the  right  cords  for  it  .    already  bossing  him  around  &&  they’d  only  just  met  .

@cyclebcrn

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“O-old? I’m only twenty eight! And I’m the Mayor. I can’t be going around behaving in such a reckless manner!”

                            𝘤𝘢𝘯  𝘸𝘦  𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 - 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩  𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴  ?                      𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦  𝘮𝘺  𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵  𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴  𝘢𝘯𝘥  𝘮𝘺  𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦  𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘴  ?

Platonic affection - Accepting

@cyclebcrn

-

Yancy, certainly the more reckless of the pair, was pacing the length and breadth of the cell while muttering swears under his breath. A minor altercation with another prisoner had him in a foul mood. His eyes darted to the cell entrance as Orson entered and sat on the bottom bunk. Any early attempt to calm him was ignored. It was only when Orson’s simple instruction was given did Yancy finally stop and turn to Orson.

There was a pause as Yancy stomped across and flopped onto the bed. Once his head was on Orson’s lap, his entire form lost all tension with a slow sigh.

“I didn’t punch him, I swear. I remembered what youse said ‘bout holdin’ youse’s temper.”

send “you okay?” to find my muse sitting alone on a roof at night.@cyclebcrn.

it’s just shy enough of LIGHTS-OUT that oswald doesn’t feel too bad for going off on his own in the yard. it’s extremely strange, having both extreme concern over the consequences of your actions and none at all, all at the same time. the breeze threatens to chase him back inside with its chill, his uniform doing little to protect him from it.