#tggrpg

« Porque son caos, son destrucción en forma y propósito. La furia de la naturaleza encarnada en un trío de fuerzas catastróficas que, eventualmente, terminarían haciendo lo que mejor saben: dañarse los unos a los otros. »

delia rose / keaton graves

keaton graves / edmund potter

my chest aches with these words, that are carved into my ribs. words that i cannot form, but i was made this way, wasn’t i? made with chaos in my blood. and a war in my head. (x)

attention, attention, this girl is a trap, she will smile, pretty, she will laugh, pretty, she will die, pretty. like a flower, just waiting to wilt, she’ll drown in her own sorrow. (x)

“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly after being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.” 

Now, do not misunderstand me; when I call myself a shell I mean–a used up bullet casing. As in, the aftermath of something lethal. As in, an echo of inflicted evil. (x)