#thenewlust

10 Insanity Starter Sentences 

Hell wasn’t a place—it was an appearance—and Tahno looked as though the flames had licked at his clothing and bloodied his face as he leaned heavily against the wood of a bar that housed only him and a few other pathetic day drinkers.

This wasn’t his usual scene, but he needed the comfort of mutual misery that hung in the atmosphere of the bar, staring at his reflection in the polished wooden counter, peering at himself through a ring left along the varnish from somebody placing a cold drink on the surface.

Hell was most certainly an appearance, for his hair was disheveled and tangled, his lip busted, and the vessels of blood beneath his eye had burst and were beginning to come to the surface, leaving him with a beautiful (perhaps if one had a morbid sense of beauty) bruise to boast for the following weeks. 

“You killed somebody?”

Tahno blinked, lazily tossing a glance beside himself at the bearer of the question. 

That awful, hm? 

His humor had always been twisted, so he smiled at the question, wincing at the short pain of a bloodied lip being split in two again. Tahno shook his head, lifting a hand to run through matted curls of hair. 

“The other way around,” He hummed, his words so heavily slurred that one could’ve easily accused him of drinking his life away and fighting his soul to Hell, though he hadn’t had a drink in days, and the only fights he was getting in were one-sided beatings that weren’t instigated by his tongue. 

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Not phased in the slightest, the homunculus couldn’t prevent her rouged, crimson lips from slowly turning into her signature, mocking grin.

Oh how cute, he was scolding her

"I would prefer to refer to it as something perhaps a little more elegant than stalking, darling. That would imply that I am unconditionally obsessed with you. No, no.” She laughed airily, quickly dismissing the notion with a nonchalant flick of the wrist. “There are plenty of your kind. But I’ve designated you as my new play toy for the moment.”

"I’ll follow you until you break. I’ll be there, hiding in every corner until you give into me. I won’t stop until I’ve bent and shaped you into submission. You’re mine until I move onto the next one, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

{→} Confusion finding its way to curve on the male's countenance studying all done movements from the homunculus, How many time scolding, clashing her will reach a pointless outcome? Extravagant persons are not his cup of tea, due to the simplest reason he doesn't know quite well what are the drastic methods to put a straight end at their pranks. From that point based on the heroic efforts to avoid any bothering conflictions between his mindset facing up a fatal quandary. Which choises are jugling atop his hands? Mountainous applications converted into decisions, some of these unequally swerving towards condemnation.

 "More elegant, you said? Harassment. Glad to hear you are not unconditionally obssesed, though it is still creepy to hear a single word from your voice." Disliking. Abrasive timbre teasing a side in which it shouldn't genuinely shaken unrelentingly. A negative mindset hued by the predicament exposed straightly, whether it wasn't lumping his already defiled life.