#paraktes

[aya-kingfly-blog]

セキセイインコのぺたんこポーチ

[leonherz-blog1]

paraktes

━ ⊴〢♕

         Treat the whole world like an ENEMY; befriend no one,  s t a y  alone until, yes until, you will come back home & run into MY arms ! Just ... hold on to that thought, to the only known component in your dark & damp life & you will  s e e  ... everything will be fine one day. One day you will return & if you do ... IF you do, you will be able to REST;;

             But how will my life look like? Will it bring me the savation I need? Will it HELP me to redeem myself -- am I allowed to become HUMAN or will my bane weight down my fragile shoulders forevermore? Will ... the PAIN end or will it become worse? Will you ... YOU allow me to take a BREAK or will the circle repeat ??

          Teeth clenched beneath lacklustre lips, as fingernails dug into the wooden mug the lioness had cupped in her palms only seconds ago. FOCUS -- oh, just FOCUS. Don’t let these doubts wither your determination. Don’t let this MORONIC ideas & ‘what-if’s’  influence your ideals ! Dead hues rolled aside, threw an oblique glance into the crowd that surrounded her. Soon all of this would end. She would be gone; ressurrected & casted out of this DAMN hell. 

             Home is where I belong.              Home is where I need to go.              Home is the only place where I am save.

          But why does she feel so INSECURE ? Why did these questions & doubts started to eat her up from within? ( it’s because you are not strong enough! ) Had she not acted according to the plan? Had she not cut all ties & bonds so as to ensure that she was on her OWN ?? Who will I leave behind but THESE people I don’t even bother spending time with? ( They are all unknown to me. UNKNOWN;; ) -- steely eyes did not bother to flinch aside as Kirschtein took the seat next to her; 

            “ – and what do you want ? “

[thetitanschild-blog]

paraktes

       “----I’m fine...”

                  Blood is dripping from his nose, and his legs                    are so weak he’s trembling, but he refuses                    to give up when he’s dealt with much worse.

                                FIGHT BACK. YOU’RE WEAK FOR A TITAN.

        Kyukuro lifts his hands, fingers curled into fists.                                   He has to get stronger in hand-to-hand combat.

[charismatic-commanderarchive]

continued from [ x ]

●▬▬๑ ♔ ๑▬▬●

          Ｂrows furrowed just slightly, but it was enough of a giveaway to the younger that he was correct in that assumption. Erwin was good at most things, but he had no idea how to navigate Netflix. He had always just went and either rented movies from Red Box, or just downloaded them. Now he had movies and T.V series right at his fingertips. It was too much power for any one person, and as such, he was quite overwhelmed by it. Oh that rather COY smirk on those lips. He knew that Jean was quietly having a laugh at his expense. Kids these days. He almost huffed, but managed to retain his dignity by squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat.

          "Of course I do. I just thought that you might want to watch something with me one of these days. It can be a series or it can be movies---whichever is fine."

[pakhetx-blog]

“So there you have it: the extent of my charms.”

“Maximum Ride” sentence starters; !accepting

     Sasha can’t believe that she just spent a full half an hour of her all too short life to sit and listen to this. And it’s not like she didn’t try to understand Jean, no, it’s quite the opposite. Her brain just can’t get around the information just received. He actually gave her his piece of bread to sit here and listen to him. And then he calls that charm. Nope, Sasha Braus, definitely doesn’t understand. 

    “I’m pretty sure that your charm transcends me, because I don’t understand any of what you’ve just said, but thanks for the bread.” She stops, thinks about it, and continues. “You don’t have to bribe me to listen to you, though.”

[ptelas-blog]

from x; paraktes

No rest for the wicked, only now, Mikasa wasn’t so sure which exactly are the wicked. Too many faces, some distorted into monstrous masks, some not so much, some voices just melted off into grunts and huffs and some legitimate screams, calling out even their names. How did they know? She still hears one particular calling out her own. And then Jean’s...

A good amount of time they spend barricading the house. They give it their best, but all she sees are flaws. If anyone wanted to break through, it would be easy. Even for a swarm of mindless, consciousless meatbags. There’s nothing to say about it. They gave it their best. Mikasa thinks it’s pathetic. 

Such restlessness comes only in the quiet hours, when the instinct for survival is dimmed down, when there’s no adrenaline pumping through her veins, forcing her to continuously move forward, push harder, swing and slash more. Be strong, be fast, be precise. Don’t turn back, don’t look back, keep going. Pull everyone with you. However, now, here, in this empty house, there’s only silence, and the horrors she refused to be touched by started to resurface. 

In such state, there was no way she’d be getting any sleep. Mikasa sneaks out of the room, careful not to stir anyone’s sleep. They deserved it. All alone, she explores the house, even if everything was memorized before, while they were barricading the doors and windows. She does it a few times before finally setting down in the kitchen, rummaging through whatever the previous owners left behind, while running for their lives. 

A bottle of golden liquid, recovered from one of cupboards. It’s bitter, and she doesn’t like the taste. But it goes down smoothly, spreading warmth down to her stomach, where it’s been so cold for a while now. And soon the numbness and the voices fade away, and finally, tears flow out. Silent, wordless, without shaking and screaming, without truly crying. Just a release of all the things she’s been gathering, seeing, hearing. 

She flinches at the sound of her name and the clank of the golf club against the wooden floor, but makes no sound, offers no explanation. Just silently thanks that the lights are off and he can’t see all too good. 

“There won’t be many other chances.”

[ptelas-blog]

“we didn’t come from money.”

pure heroine starters; !accepting

     That, they didn’t. But there’s something more comforting about sitting on the curb, passing cider between the two of them. An old man passes them by, look of disgust and disapproval obvious on his face. It doesn’t matter. She likes the way they live. The non-conformity, the rules they make for themselves. 

     “We don’t have it so bad.”