It's a lie

[Paz Ortega Andrade] [rp sideblog] 'I will do whatever it takes to protect my namesake'

[rustingpeace-blog]

||edenvs||

        ❛ ARE  YOU  A  DEAD  SEARCHING  FOR  ANSWERS? ❜  his  smile  is  a  wry  smile  and  so  is  every  part  of  his  body.  the  flatness  of  his  eyes  and  the  empathetic  coldness  of  his  body.  ocelot  can  feel  himself  freezing  as  the  other  warms  up.  the  blood  on  her  tongue  keeps  her  above  hypothermia.  the  inhalations  and  exhalation  of  thought  prevent  her  from  frozen  state.  ocelot  has  every  answer.  it  sits  a  well-used  but  mute  corner  of  his  mind.  he  always  thought  of  them  but  never  spoke  them.  they  were WRITTEN  IN  TONGUES,  and  he  could  only  read  this  language,  not  speak  it.    ❛ the  living  shouldn’t  matter  to  ghosts,  did  you  know?  only  ghosts  matter  to  the  living.  i  can  answer  your questions. ❜  like  his  father.  he  sees  ghosts  like  his  father.  he  whispers  to  them,  like  his  father.  like his father.  he  remembers  what  the  catholic  church  says  of  exorcism  and  the  peacefulness  needed  of  the  dead.  it’s  not  his  MISSION,  sadly,  but  he  does  have  one  when  the  temperature  gets  so  cold.   ❛ i  know  the  boss.  WE’RE  FRIENDS,  LIKE  SOLDIERS  AND  SOLDIERS  CAN  BE.  soldiers  can  save  peace-loving  girls.  would  you  have  rather  been  with  the  other  ones? ❜

   “I’d hope if I was searching for answers, that I’d know what the questions were first.” She shrugged, because she was tired of thinking about why she wasn’t resting. It’d been longer than eleven days. But it didn’t matter, because she was already dead. 

   “I would have rather been with snake.” It was what she had decided when she was denied the sleep of death, almost immediately. Ha. Maybe that’s why she was stuck here.

   “...Or maybe I do have a question. Why am I not haunting him? Wouldn’t such a thing make sense?”

[rustingpeace-blog]

||edenvs||

         ❛ who  were  you  to  him? ❜  HE  ASKS  FOR  THE  ONLY  PERSPECTIVE  THAT  MATTERS.  ocelot’s  tired  eyes  drift,  watch  the  wall  behind  him  and  the  shadow  that  her  body  does  not  place  on  the  ground.  he  is  not  a  man  fazed  by  exhaustion but  rather  fazed  by  his  INHERITANCE.  white  sheet  figures  and  pretty  little  girls  with  blood  all  over  their  mouths,  promising  that  they’d  known  snake  COHERENTLY.  that  is  what  bothers  him.  it  is  the  cause  of  his  deprivation,  not  a  side-effect;  his  body  has  a  way,  of  turning  cold  eyes  into  sickly  yellow  things  and  rotting  his  teeth  and  rolling  him  to  walk  with  the  dead,  like  the  dead.  but  he  is  perfect.  unmarred.  it’s  why  they  choose  to  gravitate  towards  him  or  steer  clear.

   “A friend. As much a friend as a peace-loving schoolgirl could be to a soldier like him.”

A breathy sigh passed her lips and one delicate, translucent hand drifted to her stomach. Now, in death, she wished that that lie had been true. She dreamed of how it would have been- how she could’ve truly been delicate, coveted, not broken and bloodied then turned into a fucking firework-

   “It’s part of my fault he had to try anew. I’m not sure if he was trying to save me from others or save me so Miller could cut me open himself.”

She knew it a mercy she hadn’t lived. The Kazuhira she saw these days would have skinned her alive.

[vintagepales2-blog]

by Kristina Manchenko

[rustingpeace-blog]

SHAKESPEARE  AESTHETICS.

           bold what applies.

MACBETH.

the howl of wolves. moonless nights. dirt under fingernails. stained silk. chattering teeth.voices hoarse and cracked. rotting fruit. echoing drums.   dry heaving.   hanging cobwebs.   stifling humidity.  bloodshot eyes.  the roughness of rusted steel.  wild rosebushes. muscle cramps. the sound of splintering wood.

A MIDNIGHT SUMMER’S DREAM.

crackling fires.   ivy crawling on stone.   the faint music of running water.  petrichor.  dirty, bare feet. tattered clothing.  thistledown.  wilted wildflower crowns.  late evening birdsong.  curling leaves.   a symphony of croaking frogs.   drifting feathers.  the eerie sound of wind chimes at night. humming bees.   beds of clover.

ROMEO & JULIET.

warm golden lamplight.  worn shoes. crumbling brick walls.  whispered poetry.embroidered satin.  cool, hazy mornings.  tousled hair.  rosewater.  flushed cheeks.  distant orchestras.   unfinished marble statues. cobblestone streets. loose threads.  ink smudged on parchment.   tapping fingers.   dust illuminated by sunlight.   poison vials.

HAMLET.

shattered glass. a cluster of fraying ribbons.  unanswered knocks on doors.   lingering dampness. white noise.  inexplicable drafts.   migraines.   bleeding ears.   the taste of metal.   reflected mirrors. dry, cracked lips.   the sound of tearing paper.   fogged windows. memories of dreams.  tarnished silver.  protruding veins.

Tagged by: @bcgboss Tagging: uhhhh if ur seeing this u gotta

[junglecatt]

                                     LOVE IS PATIENT.                                                        AND SO AM I.

[warprofit-deactivated20180404]

RB THIS IN MEMORY OF STINKY MILLER

RB THIS IN MEMORY OF STINKY MILLER

[rustingpeace-blog]

edenvs

        THE  SHADE  OF  RED  ON  HER  FACE  MATCHES  HIS  HANDS,  and  despite  the  sadness  and  the  shock  of  death  in  her  eyes  ocelot  is  undisturbed.  fascination  in  the  ultraviolent  had  not  worn  out  nor  was  it  likely  to,  but  he  does  not  address  this.  MANNERLESS  and  blunt  as  he  may  be  there  is  an  air  of  respect  for  every  spirit  he  comes  across  -  was  it  a  solemness  inherited  from  his  father,  who  had  seen  every  trek  of  every  word  of  movement?  ocelot  sees  the  basics.  her  mouth  forgets  to  move  when  she  speaks  but  he  knows  it  is  because  his  eyes  are  imperfect  in  this  realm.

          ❛i don’t get tired. ❜  the  gunslinger  responds  simply.  watches  as  she  lingers.  she  is  a  pretty  girl  (but  broken)  and  he  swears  he  has  heard  her  before,  or  has  memorized  her  manner  of  speech,  but  he  doesn’t  know  what  from.  was  he  too  tired,  too  DISORIENTATED to  connect  it  with  his  memory?  perhaps.  ghosts  do  work  that  way.

            heavy  eyes  get  a  little  lighter,  and  ocelot  bites  his  cheek,  sharp  hawksface  getting  a  little  sharper.   ❛ did  you  know  snake?  ❜  

    “Sure. I will believe you.” No man didn’t get tired. And if they believe it to be so, then the sleep of death could take them. Eleven days without rest is all that took. And it’s not like she particularly cared.

And what she thought to answer with was a lie; but she didn’t need to. there was no reason.     “I knew him quite well, but he didn’t know anything about me. Nothing real, at least." Not until she proudly proclaimed her name from within the cockpit of a metal gear. Not until, presumably, he had others, Kazuhira perhaps, find the truth of her. But even after this, they still called her by that fake name, before she died. It had hurt her more than anything else.

[strangewar-blog]

—- ‘ the dreamers are in their gutters, left to wilt. while i, on the contrary, have achieved my desires. ’

[rustingpeace-blog]

x | @edenvs

It looked sad, those doe-eyes and parted lips. Such a soulful blue accompanied by a soft stain of smeared blood across jaw and cheek-

mother-base had many ghosts, many torn apart or gone mad or simply lost, but none were like this one. The others had lost memories, the lives they had before. They all were less than shadows and echoes of laughter down empty halls. But there was one...

She leaned half-on his desk, hand propping up a head lolling to the side like a discarded doll. How long had he been awake again? Not five days yet, of course. That’s when you’d start seeing things.

   “You really should sleep, friend. you’re no use to snake if you’re half-dead of exhaustion,” came her whisper, soft, like the voice of a mouse.

[oopsprompts]

“I’m not the kind of person who gets a redemption arc.”

[ciircumserpent]

hello ! i’d really appreciate if you would like / reblog this if you’re interested in interacting with an independent solid snake from the metal gear series. i’m compliant with all of canon and happy to interact with smash-affiliated / crossover characters. i’ve been here for two years and i am not mutual-exclusive.

[rustingpeace-blog]

warliar:

i’m straight up too lazy to make a new promo so if you would be so kind as to reblog this if you’re willing to interact with an independent big boss from the metal gear series i’d appreciate it.

[rustingpeace-blog]

ciircumserpent :

       A soft spot? Well, the commander certainly knew of several soft spots on the children – he had struck all of Eli’s in a matter of days. His pride, his face, his arm… David’s brother was a mess right now, but so far as he could tell, everyone saw him as more of a nuisance than a child to be comforted and handled correctly. He could remember first arriving on Mother Base, and the way that Venom had immediately suggested that they be put to work as soldiers. Only Kazuhira Miller’s intervention had saved them from that fate. David had been through many, many foster homes. This wasn’t adoption, and it wasn’t fostering; this was imprisonment.

       David leapt about a foot in the air when he heard the voice, spinning around and raising his hands defensively. “Hey!”

It didn’t even bring a smile to her face. He reminded her of Chico. Terrible. She couldn’t even remember how old he’d had been when he’d died.    (Because of her; Not because of Snake’s encouragement for him to become a soldier.) “Oh. You’re not scared of me.” She hadn’t been trying. If she had, she’d let the red gash on her abdomen spill. Her translucent figure leaned down to obverse him more closely. He was cute, like most of the other kids. There was something different- oh. 

“I’m a ghost. Why aren’t you scared?”

[rustingpeace-blog]

ciircumserpent:

@rustingpeace

       The other children said that there was a ghost on Mother Base. Practical, level-headed David didn’t believe it; there was no such thing as ghosts, of course. Nevertheless, the rumor had everyone in a panic, and Eli had sent him out to get to the bottom of it. He wouldn’t point out the fact that his brother could just have easily solved this himself – David had the sneaking suspicion that he bought into it as well. It was up to him, then, to dispel the fog and prove to everybody that there was no ghost here. The medical wing was the place to look, according to Shabani, so David had crept out in the middle of the night to watch the back entrance from behind a stack of crates.

She had been floating around attached to the spirit of mother base for long enough. She already regretted it- all of it. The woman’s spirit sighed, feet barely ghosting along the ground as she patrolled the one section of the medical wing that was never used. Of course, her peace was often disrupted by the rambunctious children that had been ‘adopted’ into the diamond dogs.    (Snake had a soft spot for them. It hurt.) There was one of them behind the crates. She stepped through the physical barrier of the door.    “Boo,” She said.    (Though there wasn’t much effort put into it.)

[alannasroleplaymemes-moved]

Tormentor Sentence Starters

“Tell me how it feels.” “I’m going to delight in your suffering.” “I will break you.” “I’m going to make you watch him/her/them die.” “You’re going to be the one to do it.” “No. Open your eyes. You need to watch.” “This will be the last image you see.” “You’re not allowed to die. Death would be kind.” “How does it feel to be betrayed by someone you love?” “This is what you get for having faith.” “Beg, and perhaps I shall grant you mercy.” “As if I’d allow you a moment’s rest!” “Scream for me.” “You are nothing.” “There will be nothing left of you.” “No one is coming to rescue you.” “You’ll never escape.”

[rustingpeace-blog]

@warprofit||Closed

“Oh! Miller, I wanted to ask if you’d like to make paper stars with me?” She stuck out one hand. In it lay a tiny origami star, with a shakily-drawn smiley face on it. “I had trouble drawing the face on it, so I think the others will not have faces.”

[ashdiamond-deactivated20161023]

       His sullen, and quiet gate was a sharp contrast to her bright and beautiful mood. And yet it had an effect on him, it always did when he came in here. Icy features melting just a bit, and stone like features easing, even if it was just a touch. He graced her pleasantries with nod of his head, and he went to the bedside table. 

       It took him a moment digging through his supply bag trying to find the item he came here for. he’d promised to make it a duty of his to do so more often, because Paz was right. No one ever seemed to come here. That alone was an odd thing, but Venom paid no mind. 

      Finally finding his gift, he froze for a moment, thumbing back the item that was covering it. It was pictures. Why had he kept them there? In fact, he didn’t even remember holding onto so many. Give them to her now, and she’ll go to sleep again. He didn’t want that, not yet. Settled, he took out the photo’s, set them aside, and got the more pleasant item he had his hands on. 

     “I found it in the field. I was thinking about how not much people came in here, and this might have been a fun way we could keep in touch.” What he held out, was a walkie talkie. “Its range isn’t to far, but it’ll be good when I’m on base and can’t come by.” 

[rustingpeace-blog]

Her smile bloomed;

“Oh, Snake! That is so thoughtful of you! Thank you so much!” She took it from him, turning it over and examining it in its entirety. A thought seemed to cross her mind, and she clicked the button on the side. She held it up to her mouth, and in a terrible impression of Kazuhira Miller, said;

“Snake. Come in. I need to complain about our kitchen staff. They spilled chilli powder in my Olla de carne! Also, if you see any pretty ladies, tell them how cool I am!”

She then burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her free hand. The smile on her face was broad as she clutched the Walkie-Talkie to herself. Her eyes were sparkling, filled with more life than moments before. “I really cannot thank you enough. You are always so nice to me.”