JUDGEMENT.

"people to greet or welcome me, or a place to go home to" i don't have anything like that.

[hellchains-blog]

live our dream for the both of us.

his whole body moved with his breathing, heavy and superficial, air being blown out even more out of lungs upon hearing those words. 

legs came to a stop, stinging pain spreading through limbs, becoming more obvious now that he had put them to rest. they weakened once glancing at the crowd as it kept moving, the uncertainty of how much more would they have to run cut his breath and squeezed his heart. he couldn’t go on without him, he couldn’t leave him behind.

he wanted to say they only had a few miles left, nothing they wouldn’t be able to cover together, but the attempt of lies was easily discarded, buried beneath a layer of hope. we can do it.

body bent over slightly, enough for finger tips to brush over pairo’s shoulder. “ come on. ” they gripped at his shirt. “ get up. this is just the first phase. even that guy with the suitcase found some strength within him and kept going. ” 

this is my fault. i am the cause of the weak state of his legs.

he bit the inner flesh of his cheeks, brows furrowing and brown eyes avoided pairo’s for a moment. if he hadn’t been so careless before . . . if he had watched out for that cliff. he inhaled deeply, “ we found this place together to become hunters, and we’ll both walk out of here with our hunter licenses so get up!! what are you going to tell sheila if she finds out you gave up?! ”

[hellchains-blog]

[deathsangelisntdeadarchive-blog]

for angels who look like death

[soundedsnow-blog]

@hellchains

Soft ‘shh’s are heard as the grass beneath him would hush him every step, but he would not be halted in the venture he’d set out for, the very goal he’d established in helping another. Forest bleak, light cast only through the crevices in the dome of leaves that tower over him, he walks in a nervous silence, searching only a place of peaceful quietude, a place of calming reassurance – when he found it, that would be the place in which he plans another’s gift.

Though, it is through this quiet that he spots a building, large, almost menacing, & soon, he was not the only one that the grass had begun to silence. He could hear it too, heart rate pulsing with violent measures. ( To think you were fearful before, boy, just wait, wait, wait, for even now you do not know the extent of your capabilities. ) Silence, silence, he stands still in paranoia & nothing is heard. Nothing is heard until, 

                                                                                 –  !!!

                                                     ——

SILENCE, there is still great SILENCE, but this time he bears no choice. He is lifted of the burdens of consciousness & cast into unwarranted ‘rest.’ 

 It is not until lids, so painfully lift from one another & sight only knows the foreign ceiling that stands above him. A silent room. An empty room. Where was he, & who had taken him there…? 

[hellchains-blog]

It wasn’t unusual. A big name such as the one he worked for was constantly a target of threats and infiltration attempts from lesser families. It was far from unusual. Families that had searched for power for so long couldn’t help but envy the way that, even if the Nostrade had lost their future teller and consequently most of their income and reputation, they still somehow recovered from being totally bankrupt – not only that but they had recovered their position as well. No one doubted it had to be the work of another gifted subordinate Light Nostrade had gotten his hands on – as his figure as the head of the family before everyone’s eyes wasn’t the strategic mastermind type, thus why it was no more than a magnificent hit of luck to obtain one so easily right before his downfall. 

And he would do his job as the strategist. He would stand next to them, wordless, impassive, enduring the torture it was to be around the scum that found joy in buying a deceased clan’s body parts. It didn’t matter; a long term goal required patience, perseverance, eyes always focused on the finish line and both mind and heart always ready to take the next step. It didn’t matter if he had to leave his pride behind. It didn’t matter if he had to swallow his dignity. He would leave his humanity behind and charge forward – and he did.

His reflection had changed. It no longer felt like what breathed in front of the mirror was human, it no longer felt like the eyes that stared at him were his, it no longer felt like he was alive. It felt unearthly, something who had betrayed everything his past self. His morals, his beliefs -- a monster had eaten it all, leaving only his resolution. Flesh was the beast’s disguise; it possessed no nerves, it wasn’t heavy, it was unable to feel how cold it was the touch of metal against skin as a hand gripped the doorknob.

Their room was introduced to noise; a door opening and closing, footsteps, the clink of chains as hands moved to hide in his pockets. Young, newly awoken eyes contrasted with old, dark ones that seemed to only know of sleep deprivation ( the things he has seen – oh, sleep wasn’t the cause – he wished it was, for the things he had seen had been too much for a young heart to handle . . . but he’d pretend ). No time was lost once he stepped into the room, their young appearance not receiving any attention as he went straight to the point. They should already know their position. An introduction wasn’t needed. 

                    “ What’s your name? What family sent you? What are they looking after?       I recommend you answer as soon as possible, instead of hesitating or not answering at all. ” 

[hellchains-blog]

repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. If you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own! When you’re done, tag 15 other people to do the same!

tagged by: @soundedsnow

· GENERAL » NAME: kurapika. » AGE: 19. » BIRTHDAY: april 4. » SPECIES: human. » GENDER: cis male. » SEX: male. » ORIENTATION: too focused on being self-destructive and getting his clan’s eyes back to care. » PROFESSION: blacklist hunter. part of the nostrade family. zodiac.

· PHYSICAL ASPECTS » HAIR: blonde. » EYES: brown. scarlet when angered. » SKIN: light-skinned. » HEIGHT: 5′7″ | 171 cm » WEIGHT: 59 kg | 129.8 lbs

· FAMILY » SIBLINGS: none. » PARENTS: deceased. » GRANDPARENTS: deceased. » OTHER RELATIVES: deceased. » ANY PETS?: none.

· SKILLS » PHYSICAL PROWESS: his strength is average ( “average” in hxh terms looks at how op everyone is there ), but it increases a lot once his eyes turn scarlet. with nen + scarlet eyes, his strength becomes more destruction to the point he was able to inflict damage to Uvo despite the fact this guy’s body is impervious to bullets. » ABILITIES: he’s a quick learner; his main weapon are the chains he created as a conjurer, which he learned to use in battle with great skill in a rather short amount of time. he can control them with suhch mastery that they act as natural extensions of his limbs. » HOBBIES: 

· TRAITS —— POSITIVE ——

he’s moralistic, level-headed, intelligent, observant, reliable, meticulous, hard-working.

—— NEGATIVE ——

judgmental, argumentative, intolerant, self-destructive, cold, unforgiving, vengeful, violent.

· LIKES » COLORS: he doesn’t have a preference to any colors. for clothing his preference was always a tabard decorated with an orange-colored hem ( for the hunter exam arc )/a gold-colored hem and a symbol in the front ( for the yorkshin arc ). i guess since even when he was kids his garments color base was always blue, maybe he decided to stick with that for nostalgic reasons. that aside, his clothing isn’t that influenced on what he likes or wants, and he’s only seen in a different outfit if the situation or his job demands him to do so. » SMELLS: anything that doesn’t smell like pure shit. » FOOD: he has most likely forgotten already what was his favorite food as a kid -- or what it tasted like -- for after the tragedy happened he was homeless and lived in poverty for a considerable amount of time. so even though he’d probably like anything home-cooked, it’s not really something he can have anymore. maybe light snacks and foods, as that is probably what he ate for around for years.  » DRINKS: he’s not really picky. the same thing from above applies to some extent. » ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES?: no.

· OTHER DETAILS » SMOKES?: no. » DRUGS?: no. » DRIVER LICENSE?: the hunter license’s like a driver license, shh. » EVER BEEN ARRESTED?: no.

> DONE! Now tag other 15 people to do it!

no i wont be controlled fuk the system. anyone who wants to do it tho lmao.

reblog and you’ll die.

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Nothing holds me. Let me say that I myself have torn myself to shreds.

Franz Kafka, from The Blue Octavo Notebooks (1917-1919)

[hellchains-blog]

matembo

BRINGING RAIN!! 

:: hiinami, dxnamis, firesmothered, royaltify, hellchains & @entropyres

     “It just so happened…the storm is following you in. Are you the omen the spirits spoke of today?” He spoke calmly – his voice was like velvet, with an unfazed expression. The once blue sky was now flooding with darken clouds and were getting weak from carrying their burden. The cloudburst was to happen soon and the Elephant told his host of the dark days ahead, Emoja just didn’t realize it would be so soon.

he walks with death beside him; its calm yet venomous, luring words accompanied him throughout the cloudy days. though they sounded as the sweetest of lullabies, brutal and grotesque meanings laid behind them, both heart and mind - even in his sleep - always wary of the murmurs behind him. eyelids fall close, head lowering slightly at the words that made it through the layer of deathly words that blocked his ears as a haze, the warning of a hidden tempest.

                       " today's weather was predicted to be blustery. "

[fuckyeahannecarson-blog]

[tama-ppan-deactivated20160530]

These two are adorable…

[hellchains-blog]

kxrei

                      death is chained to his steps in his slight detour, the devil himself walking beside him on holy grounds. years of dragging its silent presence made him grow used to it, as it all was part of himself ( & maybe it had become more than that; consuming him slowly as he ventured deeper into the underworld ). its eyes were always placed on the back of his neck, his own gazing down through black contacts at barely intertwined fingers, lids hovering slightly over irises as the casual clink of metal chains would break briefly the thick silence around him. it accompanied him as a loyal friend, waiting eagerly for any change to submerge him deeper in the obscurity of hades. a human turned into a beast couldn't be allowed to sit in the house of the world's acclaimed god, yet he mourns. not for the methods he's used, what he's done or those that have died by his hands --- no, he mourns with unspoken words buried in the past, only silence being what he’s able to offer to them, as apologies, tears and his rage are nothing but useless to the dead.

[hellchains-blog]

venatorx

A stare that knows no bounds, his gaze peers into the DEATH that embody’s floor’s presence, the weak swept beneath the feet of one who has MURDERED, yet he has not the audacity to condone one for the crimes in which he, too, has committed without bearing the hesitation of humanity. A hypocrite who walks a path paved in contradictions, he does not hold responsibility to reprimand another in whom he does not know. Sympathy, pity, is all that feels toward crushed creature, innocent, yet frightening in the way it travels– never a chance to exist as he wished within the world that is out to cripple him.

      ＂… ? ＂

                       his comrade's tragedy was the enemy's joy. their pain was nothing but a forgotten event of a distant past, the massacre they unleashed upon those that feared the outside world's prejudice fading behind the world's memory once they left what they took drowning in water withing crystal cylinders for everyone's display. a slaughter turned into a show, a purchasable items for those who recognized the color that burned their irises; the world's most beautiful shade of red. monsters ----

                      lids fall close, his palm pressing slightly against eyes in an attempt to return to his senses and what surrounded him. the silence that reigned whilst he'd recover his composure was then broken. " ah ---- i apologize. "

[wordsnquotes]

Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t build character. It only hurts.

 Jacobs, Kate. Comfort Food. (via sighlight)

[kanmuruo-blog]

     & they will all agree, that i’m a SUFFOCATOR.

[hellchains-blog]

Pikachu plz help I have a spider in my attic and I think it wants to kill me

[hellchains-blog]

siegeln

❛   —   what did you say your name was again? i-i don’t think i caught it…   ❜ 

      " oh, it's kurapika. " eyes hover over the big frame that stood before him, his gaze showing mild interest. it was certainly an impressive armor. yet the voice that resided within it seemed to not fit its imposing presence.

[hellchains-blog]

philharmxnic

+ hellchains

          ❝Do…. Do you smell that?❞

            a hand ascends to hover his mouth and nose. " i do. " sadly. " what .  .  . is it ? "

[hellchains-blog]

Was it fun?

was it?

and for a brief weeks, it was. the wonders of the outside world seemed limitless ! and kindness was bigger than malice in the people he’d meet. he couldn’t wait to tell them about all the nice people that’d lend a hand to help him out, answer his questions or give him suggestions to a variety of doctors  .   .  .  

.  .  .  ?

suddenly, he felt many things; one of them being incredibly ignorant.

those words echo through the fire that spread inside his mind, thorough his body, injecting poison into a pounding, aching heart. it was as loud as drums, as lighting bolts and thunder all together. the mere sound of a raging heart beating mercilessly against the bones it was caged in muffled the sounds around him, the flames that burned within irises erasing the world around him. only one thing existed; the storm of feelings that would leave behind a ravaged soul, and the news article before him.

the pureblood members of the kurta clan. eyes gouged out. sit facing each other. beheaded.

                                                mom — dad.

black market. high price. brilliant shade of red. merciless wounds on the children. parents.

                                               pairo .   .  . !!

it was too much for him to process. the only answer he could manage was to tremble and fall to his knees as legs became unable to hold his weight up. wide eyes pierced onto the ground beneath him between the fingers of a shaky head that pressed against his face. tears burned against pale skin, mouth agape as he struggled for air, the brightest of scarlet burning furiously in a tiny, scared pair of eyes. fingers clutched at the dirt - as well as his face - thoughts crashing wildly against each other inside his skull. it’s going to break. there was nothing such as calming himself down, or getting back to his senses to acknowledge the reality that surrounded him. i am going to break. yet that was the last thing he wanted to do. this cruel reality was too much for him, he couldn’t possibly even believe he was able to gain the slightest bits of control right now. i am breaking. why me – why me. WHY ME. WHY HIM. OF ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY EIGHT PEOPLE. WHY DIDN’T I-----.

as soon as air ( uneven, ragged, quickly, he’s going to pass out ) returns to his lungs, the blackness that covered his sight slowly fades away. a red liquid spreading out on the ground, surrounding his fist, is the first thing his gaze meets with, along with the countless drops that soaked the floor.

RUN. RUN. RUN. RUN.

it hurts. it hurts. it’s not real. this is not real. it can’t be real. i’m looking for a doctor for pairo. i’ll come back and the doctor will heal his legs and eyes. we’ll go to the outside world together then and we’ll become hunters. together. we’ll be together.

it hurt —– it hurt —– it only felt pain —– it was buried in nothing but sorrow forever more — his heart, that is.

it was stitched together with worn out threads with only one purpose.  it grew cold, wrapped around an immense grief. its beats became empty, nothing but wrath filling what once was filled with hope and love. he let his body burn like never before.

their blood, their tears nor gold; none of it would make it better.

years only made a broken, barely pumping organ grow tired of the wrath that’d keep driving him deeper into hell, to where the light didn’t reach anymore.

and he sits alone in the center of a quiet room, eyelids closing of soft red eyes.

i’m sorry, it wasn’t.