#llionheartcd

    ⸻“Someone who’s going to decide what to do with you.”  With the monotone it’s hard to tell if he’s trying to be humorous or not,  but considering the situation,  it’s most likely the latter.

   ⸻The setup of said situation is this:  Kyle is bound securely to a chair,  each ankle to a separate leg,  and his wrists are tied quite thoroughly behind him.  The chair is set in the relative middle of a Spartan room;  bare  (that he can see)  save for a sturdy table under which sits a large basin,  a utility sink set in the bleak walls,  and a stark light source that lends no sense of warmth.  The door is directly across the room from him,  darker than the walls and seeming to draw the eye.

She hung half her body out the market stall, native dress flowing in the cool spring wind. Eun-chae waved wildly, yelling to passerby about her eclectic collection of goods from her home country (native foods, clothing, fabrics, and more). She honed in on one particular local, who stood out with his tall stature, piercing eyes, and general rich air. She could sell plenty to him. 

It was a place so new to her; she’d never traveled alone before, but her mother was busy— and her father no less. She wandered the streets of the place, looking like no more than a lost puppy. She finds the shoulder of the nearest person, tapping it and slightly tugging on the sleeve that covered it.

“Uh- hey, do you . . . do you know your way around here? Can you help me, please?”

      People can be devastatingly kind, sometimes. Peace has experienced it too many times on the street, and each time it breaks her heart a little more because she doesn’t deserve it. She knows better. And yet she can’t help it, still falls for it every time.

      It’s hard to see the worried face looking at her (disheveled, dirty, ill-fitted clothes and tangled hair) through the blur clouding her gaze, but she tries her best to meet their eye, hugs the freely given food to her like it’s something unspeakably precious. 

An after dark walk home from work easily fit into Mikuo’s usual activities seamlessly. When you were kept this late at night, it was inevitable. For a while, he was afraid of wandering the ruthless streets on his own without a light source; to the point of having his big sister walk him, despite her being about as threatening as a declawed kitten. Eventually, he’d gotten over his fear. Carrying weapons & being a general bad bitch meant there wasn’t anything to be afraid of in the first place.

That is, until he feels a tap on his shoulder. “Jesus, fuck-!”

He’s hesitant to glance at the source, practically jumping a foot when he’s met with another figure beside him. The realization it’s probably a harmless person settles in quickly enough to make him laugh under his breath when he catches himself. “God, that was horrifying. Don’t sneak up on people like that.” even if he’s not entirely skeptical, a hand moves into his purse to cover one of his knives. “Do you.. need something?”

MONSTER — accepting !

I’ll answer TOMBSTONE right here and DUEL over here in a separate post bc it got way the fuck outta control,

Isayah is,,,,,,,,just fuckin complicated. a Mess™. a special kind of disaster too stubborn and persistent for his own good. he’s been my favorite punching bag since i was 11/12 and I’ve kicked him to hell and back and nine ways to sunday and every single degree on the compass. this is me trying to explain who he is without writing a full series of books. he was born a good person and grew up being twisted and torn and beaten and ripped apart until the good person he would have been became nothing more than a bad taste at the back of his throat. he’s done good things, and he’s done truly horrifying things, and he’s stopped caring by refusing to let himself forget. he can feel love but it is no kind of salvation; it just is. the single thing he loathes most in this world is himself, and it may be the strongest force keeping him alive. he’s waiting to die as much as he’s fighting it simply to spite himself. I need to stop now because I literally just said I’m trying not to write a book

❗  ↷  ♪  “GOOD afternoon!” comes a cheery voice, though it can’t be past ten yet. “Do you like fairs? Well! Unfortunately we haven’t got one of those. But!,” And here the voice lowers into a stage whisper of secrecy, “it wouldn’t really be a fair without MUSIC, and we do have some of THAT!” 

Send 🔥 for Muse A to attempt roasting Muse B 

Oh, Kuma’s got this. They got this great; they know just how to take Jude down.