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❝Just because you don’t need someone to do something doesn’t change what they may want.❞ He nodded slowly; he did not say so, but he wondered if perhaps a large part of her loneliness was self-inflicted—the result of her unnecessarily restrictive duties. He sighed lightly, no weight or melancholy to it. 

              And then he shrugged. ❝We don’t need to talk about this anymore, if you don’t want.❞

“No. I don’t need them to understand. I need them to trust me and allow me to aid them, and that in itself is challenge enough,” she sighed, shaking her head. Thinking on this was causing her distress. Why had she mentioned it, anyway? To soothe him? To explain her own response so that he wouldn’t be bothered and leave?

She didn’t know. This was getting…sticky.

“As you were saying – best not to explain yourself at all.”

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Creds to na2mix ♥160508♥ || do not edit/crop photo!

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Remembering Sunday - All Time Low

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Albert Ostrowski

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© 세봉노예 | do not edit/crop photo. 

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by  Graham Lott

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Some ideas for bad things that are white/light:

lightning, very hot fire

snow storms, ice, frost on crops

some types of fungus/mold

corpses, ghosts, bones, a diseased person

clothing, skin tone, hair, etc. of a bad person

fur, teeth, eyes of an attacking animal/monster

bleached out deserts, dead trees, lifeless places

poison

Some ideas for good things that are black/dark:

rich earth/soil

chocolate, truffles, wine, cooked meat

friendly animals/pets/creatures

a character’s favorite vehicle, technology, coat, etc.

a pleasant night

hair, skin tone, clothing, etc. of a good person

undisturbed water of a lake

the case/container of something important

valued wood, furniture, art

velvet

Think to burn, to infect, to bleach vs. to enrich, to protect, to be of substance.

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❝Of course not; I’m sorry for suggesting it.❞ Serene as can be, his previous worries and troubles—the ones that had prompted this increasingly unpleasant conversation— gone with the faint sigh he gives. It perks towards the end, colouring it with soft tranquility and acquiescence, which lingers even still in the airy and insouciant words following. Oblivious is not a word to describe Tsuda, and though he may make note of the maleficence in the red-head’s smile, he makes no comment. Instead, he hums. ❝I read a story a long time ago about two people who met everyday at the same time, at the same coffee shop. They spent afternoons together, just— ah— talking. They didn’t even know each other... they never learned each other’s names or anything.❞

His gaze is thoughtful and it flits from the sky to the man at his side, and he offers a shrug and an absent smile. ❝The human capacity for trust is a versatile, unpredictable thing. Sometimes so freely given, and just the same: so easily broken—❞ His shoulders rise and fall again in another purposeful shrug. ❝I understand why you’d say no. I just figured...sometimes it’s easier to tell a stranger, because they’ve no right to judge, and there’s a chance you’ll never even see them again, unless you want to. But I understand, truly.❞

There’s something odd, now that he got a good look at him. Something out of place. Yet he could not put his finger on it. All he knew, was there was something going on with this one. His reactions were not inspiring confidence either and any chance of trust being built anytime soon was quickly diminishing. And that chance started out shockingly low.

Oh, he knows that smile. He knows it very well. He uses it often and flashes one right back with a hint of malice. Like it was gonna be that easy. It wasn’t his style to just tell anyone who asked what his problem was, especially not strangers. A snort is given first, a condescending one in fact, before he finally he dares give an answer. Likely not the one the stranger wanted to hear. “Sorry, I don’t make a habit of tellin’ jus’ anyone my troubles.” That’s what drinking is for.

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SIN TEST HERE. 

TAGGED BY: @arbiteriii​ TAGGING: @rescuro​ @enfog​ @humanwrath​ @claireverie​

GREED: low. GLUTTONY: low. WRATH: medium. SLOTH: medium.  ENVY: medium. LUST: medium. PRIDE: low. 

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tagged by: //

tagging: @claireverie @enfog @ofgil @affectae

lines from “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath: bold the ones that apply to your muse. REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

I have done it again. / One year in every ten / I manage it—— // A sort of walking miracle, my skin // Bright as a Nazi lampshade,  // My face a featureless, fine // O my enemy. / Do I terrify?—— // The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? // Will vanish in a day. // Soon, soon the flesh  // The grave cave ate will be  / At home on me // And I a smiling woman. // And like the cat I have nine times to die. // What a trash / To annihilate each decade. // What a million filaments. // The peanut-crunching crowd / Shoves in to see // Them unwrap me hand and foot—— // The big strip tease. // Gentlemen, ladies / These are my hands / My knees. // I may be skin and bone, // Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. // The first time it happened I was ten. // It was an accident. // The second time I meant / To last it out and not come back at all. // I rocked shut / As a seashell. // They had to call and call / And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. // Dying / Is an art, like everything else. // I do it exceptionally well. // I do it so it feels like hell. // I do it so it feels real. // I guess you could say I’ve a call. // It’s easy enough to do it in a cell. // It’s easy enough to do it and stay put. // It’s the theatrical / Comeback in broad day // To the same place, the same face, the same brute / Amused shout: // ‘A miracle!’ / That knocks me out. // There is a charge // For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge // For the hearing of my heart—— / It really goes. // And there is a charge, a very large charge  / For a word or a touch / Or a bit of blood / Or a piece of my hair or my clothes. // So, so, Herr Doktor. / So, Herr Enemy. // I am your opus, / I am your valuable, // The pure gold baby // That melts to a shriek. // I turn and burn. // Do not think I underestimate your great concern. // Ash, ash— // You poke and stir. / Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—— // A cake of soap, / A wedding ring, / A gold filling. // Herr God, Herr Lucifer // Beware / Beware. // Out of the ash / I rise with my red hair // And I eat men like air.