“I’ve heard you all beg, plead and cry for your lives to be spared...or to be taken. Every sorrowful cry is music to my ears...you can try not to play along, King...but I’ll make sure they suffer for you.”

fite me

❛ - oh  ❜ before standing up, ❛ I’m ---- fine. ❜ a lie through gritted teeth, hard to pass through as believable though sounding as so, really, he isn’t as fine as he puts out, thinking about the past, about the future, something feels off and he doesn’t know what, though quiet suffering seemingly stagnate  -  ❛ are you? ❜  ✟

IM NOT IM JUST TIRED

stop toeshaming me !!

In any other time and place, his assurance would be taken for granted. Once, before this, it was common enough to be ‘okay’ that okay was normal. The meaning of the word itself a constant; dancing on the unstable threshold of the world as she knew it — because she was okay, despite the apocalyptic forecast on the news every morning. Now, she thinks about all those people scattered on the earth, who get to wake up in bed sheets they haven’t bothered to change yet, groaning as they ignore their alarm for another five minutes, choosing whether they’d eat cereal or yogurt or nothing for breakfast. What she’d give for the immeasurable freedom of being okay.          David has always struck her as terse in offering comfort, but it only makes him sound all the more like he believes what he’s saying. Something formidable and unshaken; a brick house of a man. Kate looks at his face and believes in what he says, too, and that distant, glazed over gaze of hers disappears, as if a renewed blue disperses in her eyes.          “’S that a promise?” she smiles playfully, as if it’s easy to vow hope into permanence, never lost again.

AHHHHHHHHHH  YOU  ARE  SO  KIND  GRAVES  I’M  SO  GLAD  I  HIT  YOU  UP  TOO!!!  honestly  never  stop  saying  you  love  me    &    my  dwight  okay  it  only  fuels  me  lmao  never  stop  uwu

HIS  STOMACH  TWISTS  ,  HIS  MOUTH  DRIES  and  his  brows  furrow  .  “  They’ll  hate  me  regardless  .  Because  they  can’t  handle  truth  .  ”  THEY  CANNOT  HANDLE  BITTER  TRUTH  .  THEREFORE  HE  DESCRIBES  IT  AS  A  LIE  .  Dresses  it  in  black  and  red   — -  buries  it  in  gunpowder  and  coppery  crimson  .  He  has  seen  the  worst  of  it  all   –  has  endured  the  grime  ,  has  donned  the  evil  and  danced  with  the  devil  in  a  sauntering  waltz  .  HERE  ,  AMONG  THE  WOLVES  ,  is  where  reality  thrived  .  “  We’re  on  our  own  .  ”  These  are  the  hands  that  weigh  the  scales  .  This  is  the  soul  that  cries  the  loudest  .  Me  ,  and  my  bitter  fate  .  A  PILLAR   FOR  DAMNATION  .