x. I'm colder than this home;

Emily Lawrence, 19, one of many to be subjected to a program made to create assassins. With one difference; I escaped. Indie OC RP blog. Please read guidelines and bio before interaction!

[whoisinxcontrol-blog]

You see that lil heart down there? You should maybe click it to lemme know you want a short thingy---go on now, don’t be shy!

[fyredreamer]

[ ╳ au : emily’s doll. ]

 Finally she was out again. After 2 terrible years of being locked up in hat ugly asylum it felt so good to finally breathe fresh air again. Though she was quite dissapointed when after she had gotten out, her Puddin’ had been nowhere to be found. Not even her babies were anywhere near. That must’ve all been some wicked plan of that B man ! He wanted them apart, but oh no Harley would find her Joker soon enough.          —— It was already quite dark outside when  the girl  was walking through an dark alley on her way to the old flat that used to be their hideout, when this guy bumped into her rudely & felt the need to let some inappropriate comments fall from his lips. ‘‘ What did ya just say to me?!’‘ & while sweet Harley should be sane Harleen again, she couldn’t help herself & lose every inch of control she had. Apparently she wasn’t that sane after all. Before he could even react she had punched him in the face so hard, he stumbled & hit the ground. Without thinking she had grabbed a sharp rock from the ground and was on top of him, the tip of the rock in his throat within seconds.   & even when the blood started splashing into her face - she didn’t stop. She ripped it out of his flesh and started stabbing him again. & again.                                                   Harley Quinn was back.

[whoisinxcontrol-blog]

It was supposed to have been an easy hit, just some scum bag someone wanted DEAD. Not that she felt she could exactly judge or call someone scum, not when her hands were as bloodied as they were. She had been following her target that night, only to lose track of him, when she found him again, it seemed she wasn’t getting paid after all. She stumbled upon something far more brutal than even SHE was used to, a woman covered in his blood still attacking the clearly dead man. She approached with CAUTION, it was fairly clear to her this woman was not sane. ❝Not to interrupt but---I’m pretty sure that’s over KILL, literally.❞

[whoisinxcontrol-blog]

I think I’m gonna go try and catch up on sleep! In the mean time, feel free to send MEMES---or LIKE this for a starter!

Once I return: drafts -throws confetti- !!!

[abreedoftheirown-archive]

Gabbi-bear liked for a thing. whoisinxcontrol

“There’s not that many escape routes… I don’t like it.” The assassins cold and calculating gaze stared intently down at the table while taking in the blueprints of the place the hit was going to take place at. Glancing over at the other, he had crossed his arms over his broad chest and blinked slowly at her. “Remind me again why we are killing this guy?” Typically Kai only took on solo gigs, however this particular job was a doozy and the payout was far too good to let slip past his fingers. Maybe it could officially retire after this? Although that was just wishful thinking. After all, once an assassin always an assassin. 

[whoisinxcontrol-blog]

❝I guess you don’t really need MANY escape routes anyway, just one really good one.❞ She glances briefly at him as she speaks, eyes quickly returning to the blueprints before them. She wasn’t too keen on partnerships, nor the assassin job as a whole. But she had the skills and it got her by when she didn’t have other means to do so for herself.  ❝Something about him knowing too much, apparently something HUGE.❞ She shrugs, ❝Must have been something important, you don’t get your ass killed for just any secret.❞

[fyredreamer]

 ‘’ I don’t care whatcha’  say! Mr. J LOVES ME, I know he does!’’ Harley missed her Puddin’ so much. Ever since he had left her behind, she had been locked up by that assasin girl for days. & she was still holding on to hope that the joker would come back for her.  ‘’ You have to let me go! Nobody has fed my BABIES in days – they gotta’ be starving! ‘’ 

[whoisinxcontrol-blog]

❝Look, I’m not trying to be the bad guy here---but I’m pretty sure if he LOVES you, he’s not very good at showing it. ❞ She crossed her arms across her chest, shrugging, ❝but maybe that’s just my opinion.❞ She felt slightly bad for keep the other captive but it’s not like she was mistreating her or anything. She fed her and didn’t hurt her, she was only even kept here for Emily to see if she would talk. But it was looking like that wasn’t happening, so she’d likely free her soon enough.

[rpmememakers-blog]

Send me, "its way past your bedtime" for your muse to walk in at 3:37 in the morning to find my muse isn't asleep.

[rpmemes-galore]

Send me “flower crown” and my Muse will react to yours plopping one on their head

[whoisinxcontrol-blog]

➤OPEN

❝Fuck YOU!❞

[whoisinxcontrol-blog]

➤OPEN

Her breathing is shaky, she’s injured in more places than she’d like to think about. She was careless, after running after leads that only seemed to hit dead ends---she was eager to find one that was actually her target. People hired her for efficiency and this was taking far too LONG. So she went to the place and long story short, now she’s bleeding out. She saw the other person as she practically stumbled along the side of the road, she had no idea where she was and things were only getting fuzzier. She drops to her knees with a groan, the figure getting closer while her vision got blurrier. ❝Please---I need, I need help.❞ It was a desperate plea & she could only HOPE this person had a heart.

[takexshelter-blog]

SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR ANGST;

☔: my muses reaction to opening their front door and seeing yours drenched in rain

⚡: how my muse calms yours in a lightening storm while they’re pulled over on the side of the road

☆: my muse comforting yours while they get a tattoo

☏: my muse’s reaction to getting a phone call from the hospital about your muse

☯: what my muse says to yours after they haven’t spoken for five hours since a fight

✏: my muse’s letter to yours that they left after they passed away

⚰: my muse’s reaction to watching yours die from afar

✿: my muse’s reaction to leaving a cut on your muse’s body

♒: my muse’s reaction to finding your muse bruised and beaten on their doorstep

⚈: my muse’s reaction to finding drugs in your muse’s handbag

✺: my muse protecting yours from a sleaze at the club

☠: my muse’s reaction to being told that your muse is missing, and presumed dead

☺: my muse finding yours on the side of the road, hours away from home

✖: the last thing my muse says to yours before leaving for good

⌛: the voicemail my muse leaves on your phone when your muse hasn’t been heard from for the fifth night this week

☕: my muse comforting yours after the death of a loved one

⚱: my muse’s reaction to waking up to yours muse, beaten by mine, but my muse has no recollection of the night before

☉: my muse’s reaction to finding yours in a public bathroom, drugged and almost unconscious

SPECIFY WHICH MUSE ON MINE AND YOUR BEHALF

[cortexifansquint]

low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline

[bookxworm-deactivated20151011]

casually insult my muse. i dare you. give them your worst.

[whoisinxcontrol-blog]

Now I really want shippy things ;-; anyone want to love on my bby?

[dimepoetry]

on loving a wounded boy: there will be days when his smile is so bright that it blinds you. do not shield your eyes from him; instead, kiss the smile from his lips and taste the heat there, the love, the ashes. he will taste of sunshine and ruin. let him. there will be days when his arms are a crime scene of his own design, taped off and untouchable. there will be days you come home to find him bleeding heavily onto the bathroom floor and he will stain the tile with every regret sorrow guilt and he will call it his own private sin. bandage him; press your mouth to the cotton dryness of the cloth and feel the warmth of blood beneath. remind yourself that this is not who he is. remind him that he is more than the sum of every wrong done to him. there will be days when his mouth tastes of saccharine instead of sugar. do not call him on his mistakes. drink this bitter-sweet sorrow down to the dregs. there will be nights when his eyes are the color of bruises and his sobs will keep you awake no matter how he tries to silence them. pull him into your arms, but say nothing. if he wants to tell you, he will. there will be mornings when he traces his fingers up your leg as you eat your breakfast. he will not ask for anything more than just the comfort of your presence in the room. give that to him. there will be midnights that his legs kick out in fear and he will sweat his nightmares out like fever. there will be some kisses that taste like every childhood summer you’ve ever had, and other kisses that taste like sweat-salt and the dampness of tears. there will be times that he asks too much of you, or times you give too little. there will be times that he hisses threats between his teeth and every word feels like a dagger. and there will be apologies, eventually. soft words and silences that blanket you in comfort and the knowledge that above all else, his love is genuine. these moments will warm you from the inside out. more than anything, there will be moments when he looks at you like you alone put the sun in the sky, and his sigh against your lips will be a supernova and an autumn wind all at once. kiss him once. kiss him again. kiss him until he forgets he’s broken, and kiss him until you forget that you’re broken too.

“On Loving a Wounded Boy,” by dimepoetry (via dimepoetry)

[moonshinemonty]

Sometimes I tell myself I’m okay. I repeat it, like a mantra. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay. Because I’m afraid if I stop, even for a moment, I will drown in all the reasons I am not.

(via moonshinemonty)

[void-earth-archive]

                                a heart’s a                               heavy burden

[whoisinxcontrol-blog]

"I want you to help yourself."

( x. || bravenotblind )

She wants to be okay again—to heal from the scars that some of the harsher events in her life have left. To no longer see blood on her hands when she looks at them at their cleanest. But she doesn’t know HOW to heal. She is deep down a kind person, soft, but on the outer surface there is a shell and it’s hard to break down. She looks at her hands, playing with one of the rings on her fingers, a deep breath exhaled before she speaks up.

❝I don’t think I’m capable of it.❞ The words are softly spoken, a certain and rare vulnerability within them.