→ give 'em { hell } kid

k y l i e m u n r o " —She is a { m e s s } of contradictions ; E L E G A N T yet (W I L D) C L E V E R yet ( I M P U L S I V E ) " ▐ ✘ ---- we're mickey and mallory now, baby.

[sfumatoxkylie]

just pull the  t r i g g e r  now we'll watch us on the tubes from our motel rooms.

[sfumatoxkylie]

Kylie was an anomaly. She grew up loved and cared for, her smile used to light up the world. At least that's what the people who loved her would say. Her dad said that the most, he adored her because she was his little princess. Daddy's little girl. Her brother Caleb wasn't afraid to say his little sister was his best friend; wanted to protect her from the world of drugs and addiction. But, her mother was not one of the people who cared or loved her. Kylie could recall every time her mother had let her down, how her mother didn't cry at Caleb's funeral and didn't bother to show up for any of her big achievements. Tonight that would change. In less than 20 minutes she'd have a front and center seat to what would be Kylie's favorite achievement.  It had been in the works since she returned with Riley and Jay. She'd sit and confided in Jay with every gritty idea because he was the only person who she wanted to let in on this plan that was too close to home. Too personal for anyone else to really get but with Jay it was different. He would get why this was so important to her, and even if he didn't he could value a good plan when he heard one. Pressing the gas she zoomed down the road a glint in her eyes that only came when she was determined to get what she wants. She didn't stop till she drove up a cracked and old driveway that held so many memories for her:  where she broke her leg, shared many jokes with Caleb, her first driving experience where she crashed into the garage and left a dent, kissed Tony for the first time, ran over a rabbit, and so forth. It was bittersweet.  It wasn't enough though to ditch her plan instead she walked up the front steps spilling gasoline as she walked in calling out, "Mother I'm home" out into the halls till her mom walked down standing in front of her eyeing the can in her hand. Kylie reveled in the fear that was evident in her mothers eyes that stared back. "I'm leaving town, not that you care, but it's time I get closure." Was all she said as she walked away her mother telling her to stop, begging for her to not do this which was enough to make her let out a laugh, a hearty chuckle. How dare she beg for something that she didn't deserve, and with that she pulled out a match and let it drop as she left the house not even stopping to watch the flames that consumed the hose, her mother, and all her memories good and bad. It was time to leave it all behind and start a new life. 

[apriki]

[j-lawperfection-deactivated2019]

[quotewhore]

I love her for what she has dared to be, for her hardness, her cruelty, her egoism, her perverseness, her demoniac destructiveness. She would crush me to ashes without hesitation. She is a personality created to the limit. I worship her courage to hurt, and I am willing to be sacrificed to it. She will add the sum of me to her.

Anaïs Nin  (via erudeite)

[bbambii-eyes]

Visit Original Link

Dystopia-YACHT

[just-about-miss-lawrence]

[sfumatoxkylie]

Kylie x Riley

Name: Eliza Munro-Owens

Gender: Female.

General Appearance:

Personality: Like her mothers she takes their reckless gene, doing what she wants when she wants without a care in the world. She’s outgoing and loud-spoken, much like Riley, she comes off as a bully trying to target their weaknesses for fun. She likes to know she can make people cry if she tired, it gives her a sense of power. Along with that she’s a free spirit and will often do crazy things for fun and attention; she likes to be the center of attention. She’s also a party animal and can be found at any big gathering smoking pot or getting wasted. 

Special Talents: Tying cherry stems with her tongue and making people cry. 

Who they like better: Eliza doesn’t really have favorites she likes them equally because they both give her freedom to do what she likes. 

Who they take after more: Riley.

Personal Headcanon: Eliza fears becoming like her mothers, who have a knack of still causing mayhem and likes to lie to her friends about who her parents are. Especially with their past of being criminals. 

[sfumatoxkylie]

Kylie x Tad

Name: Valentine “Valen” Munro-Zohner

Gender: Female

General Appearance:

Personality: Valen is cunning she knows how to read a person quickly finding their weakness and abusing them to get what she wants. She’s kind when she needs to be and a total bitch when she feels it’s necessary. 

Special Talents: She’s incredibly good with both an arrow and a gun, because her mother enjoys archery and her father would bring her shooting a lot. Secretly though, she enjoys drawing— Not anything dark, but she enjoys sketching clothes. All sketches hidden in between pages of her weapon magazines like a dirty secret, 

Who they like better: Valen doesn’t have a favorite, neither of them buy her cunning innocent act nor care for it. They both allow her to be psychotic and ruthless, in fact they enjoy it. 

Who they take after more: She takes after her father more in the sense that she can flip on a switch and act in whatever way she needs to at the moment concealing her evil intentions. She also loves going to empty fields and shooting things, just like her dad. 

Personal Headcanon: Valen isn’t as psychotic as her parents but she enjoys observing their tendencies and loves being able to handle weapons and being able to know how to defend herself. Though she loves her parents she does wonder what it would be like to have normal parents. 

[sfumatoxkylie]

Kylie x Jay

Name: Desmond Muno-Collins

Gender: Boy

General Appearance: 

Personality: Desmond inherited his parents psychotic tendencies and learning all the negative personality traits they posse. He became an accessory to murder and bank robberies before he could even comprehend what he was doing was wrong and then when he could he thought it was okay. He started to want to make his dad proud and would exceed expectations. 

Special Talents: Knife throwing and arson. 

Who they like better: He likes Kylie more because she’s not always a cuntbag like his dad. 

Who they take after more: He takes after Jay more because Desmond is ruthless and careless treating people in the same way that his dad treats them. 

Personal Headcanon: Desmond got kicked out of many public schools for bullying and is now “homeschooled” in the art of crime. 

[shieldedsmart]

If they had a kid meme

Name:

Gender:

General Appearance:

Personality:

Special Talents:

Who they like better:

Who they take after more:

Personal Headcanon:

[fucking--collins]

Whatever, fuck it. I’m not fucking hungry anymore. 

[fucking--collins]

[sfumatoxkylie]

Don't get your feathers in a bunch. 

[clevxr-deactivated20150903]

                        If I were a month, I’d be January.           Bitter to the core, but with just a bit of beauty from the snowflakes              falling, breaking apart like they were once a petal of a rose in the           sun without water.                         If I were a day of the week, I’d be Monday.             Miserable, and still causing it as if I were an alarm that wouldn’t stop             when you were unable to go the distance.

                        If I were a planet, I’d be Pluto.              So far out nobody would notice if I left.

                       If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a bookshelf.            Constantly gathering information and dust all the same. The article            that nobody would pay attention to when they walk into the room.

                     If I were a flower, I’d be an Orchid.          A pristine beauty capsuled in a form so delicate, one that your touch          could kill.

                 If I were a kind of weather, I’d be the hurricanes.               Something that I’ve grown so accustomed to. Something that will                 make people cover their heads and go into their basements, not               knowing what’s happening to their house. Constantly in the darkness.                    If I were a color, I’d be black.       The hopelessness that can be found in a shade, the feeling that        you are sinking and flying all the same.

                 If I were an emotion, I’d be despair.           One glance at me would make the beautiful colour sink            from your eyes faster than ever.

                    If I were an element, I’d be metal.                As if I am not already. All I’m missing is my shell. Cold and                calculating, I cannot express any value.

                If I were a place, I’d be a forest.        You could get lost in me, yet you can never see me for who I am.                   If I were a taste, I’d be bitter.             Some might like it, however the taste is not recommended for            first timers.               If I were an object, I’d be an encyclopedia.             Constantly pumping out information on everything, and I will never              stop.

[iamsomuchcrazierthanyou-deactiv]

[princessdean-blog]

Visit Original Link

Blue Eyed Blondes | Maneater

[backshelfpoet]

They call us killers, honey, I say with teeth clenched around your jugular. You’ve got them graveyard hands, nails dredged up from diamond mines, bones screaming bloody murder. I wear combat boots and only smoke Camels, like how you look with a noose around your neck. Teach me to breathe poetry in the hollows of your spine, bruise my name down your back. With teeth made of cigarette smoke and wrists of chewed leather, I keep you perched on pretty legs in the passenger seat of my father’s old car, radio turned to love songs we never learned to sing. We weren’t made for that marrying kind of tender; we kiss like addicts hungry for a hit. We are fighters, not lovers – poets who plot murders and get drunk to find God or our mothers’ ghosts, spend all our time applying assonance to bar fights. You’re good for alliterations and throwing punches, you keep the boys hungry and on their knees. I’m not good for much at all, baby, A useless kid with knuckles bruised from living – Killers, honey, killers.

This Is What They Call Us | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

[fucking--collins]

According to our overly sweet yearbook committee and the society, I am. 

[sfumatoxkylie]

Yeah, I don't think so, they only did that for the irony.