FLAWED

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Someone: You're so dramatic!

Me, with a rose between my lips, throwing glitter around, dressed in evening wear during the day, draping myself across a piano: I have no idea what you're talking about

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WHEEZES IM SORRY IVE BEEN DYING BECAUSE OF SCHOOL AND COLLEGE APPS. ILL BE HERE TOMORROW

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xofcommander

“My village was bombarded and I was submerged in the burning oil that spilt out of it’s sole factory. Rapeseed, quite painful when hot.” 

Though his tone was matter-of-fact, the man’s scarred mouth wrinkles in displeasure- what a cocky little shit this one was. He eyed the sword once before parting his coat- revealing the sawn off rifle holstered at his side. “I think, perhaps, that you might be addressing the wrong person here. I’ve no mind for a fight, and unless you’ve come to lend your sword to my cause, then you’ve very little reason to be here.”

   “It depends what this little parade is marching for.” He notes the simple rifle at the side, practically rolling his eyes at the gun for those small little bullets would hardly be a challenge to him. Was it the sword at his side that people thought that he would be so easily taken advantage of?        “I don’t lend my services to just anyone,” he continues. “Your cause has to be worthy of my attention, and also to my sword’s.” There would be no reason to indulge in such a fight if blood and gore were not spilling from the heavens themselves. That was the true pleasure in being a mercenary, it was not the money but rather the blood lust that emerged from it.

[thegxtherer]

Personality Disorder Test

[whispersinstorms-blog]

Used this test here.

Disorder | Rating

Paranoid |  Low Schizoid  | Moderate Schizotypal | Moderate Antisocial | Moderate Borderline | Low Histrionic | High Narcissistic | Moderate Avoidant | Low Dependent | Moderate Obsessive-Compulsive | Low

URL of the test: http://www.4degreez.com/misc/personality_disorder_test.mv URL for more info: http://www.4degreez.com/disorder/index.html

[whispersinstorms-blog]

pozharishche

  He was interested.

As Tretij listened to the male seemed to speak with sarcasm, well it didn’t sit well with him,  raspy breathing overtook the boy as he suddenly invaded this person’s mind. Now inside he began causing hallucinations, fire engulfing the room as Tretij would appear behind him and speak in his mind, yet it wasn’t actually the child speaking.      ❝ Who.. Are you?               Who… Do you work for.. ?❞

   There was a intake of breath at the flames surrounding him as the child disappear yet panic had not yet took him. The thing was too sudden, too unnatural and yet still it sent his mind into a frenzy for a moment to figure out what it was that was transpiring. He felt the presence of something behind him, and it was reflex that his hand went to grab his the hilt of his sword yet not quite unsheathing the beautiful blade.       That voice--! Where was it coming from!? “Samuel,” spoke he slowly turning his head and shifting his body all the while staying away from the flames that licked at him (where was the heat?). “I work for myself,” it was only for that moment that the playfulness of his voice faded away till the next words spilled forth from his mouth. “Its a little rude to demand someone their name and work without introducing yourself.”

[whispersinstorms-blog]

xofcommander replied to your post: ”cocky little shit”    testi...

“Cocky little shit, would not recommend.” –Skull Face

[whispersinstorms-blog]

How can you choose cold metal over the splendor of flesh?

   Did this ghoul talk of his arm? That of which that had been stolen from him by which seemed like centuries ago? It was a touchy subject to he, the arm which was no longer present, and yet which was in some cruel fashion was a nothing that could have been helped. The cold metals of which the other spoke of was a GIFT bestowed upon Samuel for completely his ‘job application’. It was just only a seconds reflection of this past that he could feel the PIERCE of Armstrong’s cut hand impaling within his flesh.       The phantom pain inflicted upon him as if the moment was then made Samuel’s face just twitch a little. It was things like this that made him abhor the finely plated black and red arm that was given to him. They didn’t need to tear off his arm, yet they did as some cruel joke, to mark him as Desperado’s own.

   It made him sick just thinking about it. “It would be rude of me to turn down a gift,” he spoke yet the words that left him were hollow and lifeless unlike that which usually filled his voice (but would anyone care to notice his pain for all the things he had done to the world?). “At least it looks good on me.”

[whispersinstorms-blog]

”cocky little shit”     testimonials

[silent-ones101]

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levitxs

❝ No, I HAVEN’T forgotten of them. I’m not like that — ❞ 

Not anymore; or at least that’s what he told himself on the daily.  & yet, it was something about the way Sam had said it, or maybe that SMILE that seemed to be plastered to his lips, that made Raiden second guess his own statement. He had quite the reputation for throwing people out when he was no longer in business with them;; for once he hoped that WASN’T the case.

❝ Oh please — don’t give me this ‘were kindred spirits you & I’ bullshit. Do you know WHY I never stopped to think about ‘OUR’ stories ⁇ Because we are nothing alike. ❞

It was only after the words fell from his mouth that he felt a twinge of REGRET for having spoken them. Truth was, aside from what his intel team had told him about the opposing male, Raiden was clueless about him. He knew nothing of his past; it’d never crossed his mind to ASK. & while he would never apologize until given reason to, he couldn’t HELP but feel sorry for having said such a thing.

  "We AREN’T alike,” spoke he filled with riddles. The grin, though somewhat had faded, turned to something more neutral. His voice was unlike that of whence he had spoken to Raiden of those he killed, rather it was calmer and tone twisted to that of wisdom. “It is the ending that I want you to think about that might make you rethink that. Its history that shapes the man, but in some cases its the end that makes us.”      That smile began to creep back up on his face. Samuel’s end was when he extracted revenge, when he thirsted for the blood of those that did injustice to others, and that ended because of Armstrong. This now, this moment in which he spoke to Raiden was a mere epilogue for him. “But I’m sure you’ve heard enough about history by now,” he made a gesture with his hand giving a sigh, silently admitting to the inevitable that his F A I L U R E would forever be kept to the dark.    If only life were a book and he was able to turn the pages back.

[whispersinstorms-blog]

hersepulchrebythesea

There were many things Annabel could hide, if she wished. But her expertise was in disposing of evidence and spiriting herself away, a much more physical sense of hiding. This tension, however, was such a natural state for her that she couldn’t even think to seem otherwise – nor would she have been all too inclined to. His name was exactly why she watched him so closely. To look away invited danger.

(Of course, she also considered looking away from a barista while they made her coffee to be inviting danger. No one was what they seemed, and poison was as dangerous as a sword.)

Annabel’s general air of distrust did not waver. If anything, there was now the faintest hint of being… perplexed. The smallest shift of muscles in her face was as good as it got most of the time, and this was no exception – brows pinching together just slightly, the extent to which she expressed confusion.

“I have no need for a picture,” she answered, flat tone matching her guarded demeanor. Clearly, she did not find it funny… nor did she seem vexed, or even embarrassed. Just as staring did not register as rude, his words did not register as a response to it. In fact, the relevancy of the statement was lost on her.

Social cues often were.

 It was that little reaction that brightened the smile upon Samuel’s face. To him, it was if he had managed to crack the hardest of metals that laid on the Earth. The twitch of the other’s facial features were enough of amusement to him than anything other thing that had previously occupied his mind. Naturally, given the air between the two, the reply that she had given Samuel was nothing short of his expectations. Nonetheless, the reply did just disappoint him a little.      “I only assumed since you were looking at me like those portraits at museums,” he joked. His hand moved around carelessly about the place as words managed to transfigure themselves upon his hands (he was always the one to talk both his mouth off and also to wave around his limbs as if insects were crawling up around them). “Of course flash photography won’t be permitted,” he finally added after a short pause, hand finally resting upon his knee as he leaned forward in his seat. The grin never once faltered and it showed within his voice that he took great enjoyment with his silly words. It was only that of Samuel’s nature to act such a way to those surrounding him, even to those that terribly missed social cues were also included.

  It was only one more second that passed before his lips opened again. Although the tone of his voice stayed the same the mood of which he uttered such words flipped like a coin. “Or are you staring at me thinking those knifes you have for eyes will kill me?”

[bunchofrpmemes]

Bold all that apply:

[whispersinstorms-blog]

My muse knows how to…

bake a cake from scratch | ride a horse | drive stick | speak a second language | dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate | unclog a drain | program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun | sew | juggle | play poker | paint | fly a kite | sculpt | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike | swim | sail a boat | do a back flip | play chess | give CPR | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | read palms | use chopsticks | write in cursive | use an electric drill | braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | do sudoku puzzles | wrap a gift | give a good massage | jump-start a car | roll their tongue | do magic tricks | do yoga | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read Morse code | pick a lock

[necromorph-slayinglovemachine]

It’s Always Sunny in Denver

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Apparently, according to the concept art notes, Murasama was suppose to be named Muramasa but the Rodriguez family screwed up on the naming when passing down the blade through the generations. The blade is, however, made by Muramasa. Its interesting to note that all of Muramasa’s blades are said to have a lust of its own, much like a curse. “[...] it is a blood thirsty, evil blade as it doesn’t discriminate as to who or what it will cut.” Other sources say that the blade cannot be sheathed unless it has tasted blood from either those around the wielder or of the wielder’s blood.

Muramasa’s blades had actually been banned by the shogun in the 16th century because of the legends that arose from wielding such a sword. Those that were caught with it were punished severely or were ordered to commit seppuku; many swords were melted down because of the ban and many people who owned Muramasa’s swords altered it in some way to hide the fact that owned such.

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grayfcx

“…Just a brain and spinal column.”

    The Patriots took everything else. And then they took his ability to move into a civilian body with the way they hooked up his nervous system to the body. If he were to be moved from this robotic shell, he’d experience enough pain to put him in a coma or kill him. Still, he didn’t mind too much. You get used to it.

“Still, I’d like to know who’s asking.”

   “Better than most people now-a-days.” Most didn’t even have a spinal column, especially those that were children. Perhaps it was just one step better than those, but he couldn’t say much given that he knew little of the circumstances of the other. Who knew what sort of hell that he had been put through to be a simple set of bones and flesh while the rest was merely that of nothing.        “An admirer,” a smile graced his lips as the words danced across his tongue like a child playing among those their age. “Most people call me Jetstream Sam, maybe you’ve heard of it?” twas a name well known within Southern and Central America. Undoubtedly, it was becoming more and more well known to those in the North for those who cared of the weak and poor and of their own personal safety. 

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pozharishche

     ..

A second man who’s body was surrounded in metal,  as if they were augmented for war, Tretij was truly  unsure by what side this man was on, or more importantly what he was fighting for. Tretij would appear in a hallway not too far from the man,  just to watch, not saying a word, and only allowing his  breathing to show  that he was a person, and not a hallucination

whispersinstorms. 

   It was first that he thought the child standing in the middle of the hallway was a mere ILLUSION. The smile upon his face faded rather quickly, and it was the state of perplexity that caught him for such a staple feature of his to fade away.        Twas only closer inspection that revealed that he whom stood in front of the mercenary was no trick of light. It was only upon this revelation that he stepped forward cautiously, unease settling within him the closer he got to the mysterious boy. “And what honor do I have meeting you?” Words played in its usual sarcasm even if his face showed nothing of the sort. Perhaps the child would give nary a reply, and Samuel was perfectly fine with that, the boy did look that he had seen the depths of hell itself.

[kissthefuture]