#detortum

    ❝ I’m not giving you back your hairpin until you begin to talk. I wanted to be your friend, also know about this world, and you tried to kill me, I had not other choice! I mean I could let you kill me because I hate this but if I explain to you my shit we won’t finish today. ❞

   --- The man sighed and crossed his arms in front of the other, waiting for the other to stop trying to divert the subject. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

✧ Mishima was exhausted, apparently had some problems with the mafia. It was unintentional, he collided with one of the men in black and then he insulted them. Yes, he did not have to do that. After having lost sight of those men he stood against the wall and looked to one side, he raised his head and saw someone in front of him. Ah? He?

kui, how the hell do you find these icons?? i'm crying lol

@detortum​ || ❛ no longer human ❜

           The statement of truthーthe obvious. From the mouth of someone younger than herself but has already seen as much, if not more, the horrible nature of mankind. consideration gives her pause and her attention is drawn by the sheer morbidity that was Dazai Osamu and the obscenely honest logic he carries with him. 

          She closes her eyes, allows her mind to wander deeper into her own philosophies. Men suffer because of their own vices. They cannot let go of them because letting go of desire is the same as being LIFELESS. And that grotesque selfishness, the unquenchable greed for a grand raison d'etreー they transform humans. Twists them.

it would only take a minute to see if the rain outside has stopped : an effort ( perhaps more of one, in fact, given the weak physique and lethargic condition ) to climb and look over the unstable crates for the cue that it is all right to go outside. not for long, it wouldn’t have to be long at all— he must admit the air inside the warehouse is stale and could improve some, though. at the very least, it was acceptable enough a roof over his head… a luxury in itself and a wonderful shelter from the storm that barely allowed him a little rest hours before. so, before imagination takes on the shape of reality, it’s just him : alone with not a thought nor solace, but his own physical self.

` lonely ` is not a word whose meaning he knows well, and perhaps those who aren’t him would take a life or two if it meant they could taste that sort of oblivion instead. now he recognizes the silhouette the moment it comes within sight, and he’s filled with a hint of repulsion and a need to disregard the man.

( wouldn’t it have been better if he hopped off the crate and left when he had the chance to? before engaging in unfulfilled scenarios? )

“Telepathy” to hear a thought about your muse. | @detortum