I lived, bitch.

Apparently the bird now has a canon name, but I have grown far too attached to “Bastard” so I follow My Own Canon.

Send “#b” and I’ll shuffle my music player, and use my favorite line from the next song as a starter!

Apologies for my absence across blogs, I was hit with a bad wave of Depression and just havent had a lot of energy to write with what time I have.

I dropped it late at night bc I always do but follow my oc @ccompulsion

Hey the themes not done but you should follow me.

I’ve come to the conclusion that none of you fear god

Also hey like this and when I get home I’ll write up a custom tag for you when I get home if I’m not awful

FAIRY TALE AESTHETICS :  BROTHERS GRIMM VERSION

rules :   bold what applies to your muse and repost .

SNOW WHITE. jade trinkets in boxes. taste of iron. fingertips on a mirror. yellow and green with envy.  long handled hunting knives.  sewing by the window. combs laced with pearls and poison.  an apple white one side and red the other. white doves. frosted glass. THE MAIDEN WITHOUT HANDS.   a blunt axe.   a ring of chalk. tear-stained cheeks. sweet pears.   hands tied behind back.  shallow rivers. aching feet.  walking for days. flowing gowns. liquid silver. wax seals. blinding lights. THE THREE LITTLE GNOMES IN THE FOREST.  lukewarm bath water.  sapphire butterflies.   tiny milk snakes.  baskets of strawberries.  fat toads.  sparkling snow. fur cloaks. raw gemstones.  kettles made of copper. red wine. a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere. BLUE BEARD.  a tiny key made of gold.  pools of blood. stains that won’t rub away. galloping hooves. treasures from far away lands. dragged by the hair. dark and damp cellars. marble walls. shivering with fear.  screaming at the top of your lungs. THE SIX SWANS.  sitting side-saddle. daughter of a witch. nettles. white feathers.  refusing to smile.  needles and threads.  a castle in the forest.   sound of beating wings. birthmarks.  climbing trees.  balls of yarn. silver crowns. LITTLE RED CAP.  wildflowers. rich-tasting cake.  wicker baskets.  the path rarely trod. sharp teeth.   curtains drawn.  a dying fireplace.  grey pelts.  red velvet. handmade quilts. sunlight peeking through branches. opening corks with a satisfying pop. looking someone directly in the eye.

Tagged by: Stolen from my own blog Tagging: You!

“Close combat gets messy”

They waited, throwing out an arc star the moment Mirage sent out his copy, and laying down covering fire to give their remaining teammate any chance he had, a masked smirk forming as they saw the bullets connect. The Bloodhound had gone mostly unscathed in this encounter, and their ultimate glowed temptingly on the screen of their UI. They could rush in, finish this fight, victory was moments away and they could taste—

A gunshot sounded, and thunderous sound they could feel in their chest and in the vibrations in the ground as the bullet passed through their teammate, staining the soil red.

Sniper.

The Bloodhound wasted no time in dragging Mirage further behind cover, glancing out as far as they dared to try and locate where the shot came from, but ducked again when the previous threats shot back at them. This wasn’t good.

“We are going to need to run.” They were at too big a disadvantage, this fact becoming especially obvious when the Bloodhound only had shield cells to provide for Mirage, and not even any proper first aid. “I can try to distract the two closest to us momentarily, but I can do nothing about the sniper. Do you think you can make it to those buildings?”

*  /  STARTER - @ccynophobia​.

      mirages  shakily  takes  a  deep  breath  ,  SEETHING  through  his  teeth  whilst  sweat  poured  from  his  temples.  darkened  hues  glace  over  the  cement  wall  protecting  him  from  a  BARRAGE  of  bullets  ;  he  got  lucky  ,  because  a  stray  bullet  merely  GRAZES  the  side  of  his  right  cheek.  it’s  enough  to  have  him  slam  back  against  the  wall  ,  forcibly  placing  a  palm  against  his  face.         he  stares  at  bloodhound  ,  whose  hiding  on  the  other  side  of  the  opening.  if  he  wants  to  get  across  ,  he’s  gonna  have  to  send  out  a  decoy  &  hope  they’re  stupid  enough  to  fall  for  it.         a  tense  hand  clutched  the  grip  of  his  .301  as  the  other  pointed  out  to  the  open  field .  “  sending  out  a  decoy  !  “  there  was  a  brief  moment  as  he  waited  ,  watching  the  decoy  rushing  into  the  field.         a  moment  of  relief  befell  him  as  he  watched  the  enemies  shoot  at  the  decoy.  nows  the  time.  mirage  sprints  to  get  across  the  opening  ,  glancing  periodically  at  the  other  him  getting  shot  at.  it  seemed  to  be  working  -  up  until  he  feels  a  piercing  feeling  rip  through  his  left  bicep.                ‘  AH  —–  –  FUCK  !  ‘       the  man  stumbles  to  the  ground  for  the  briefest  of  moments  ,  gritting  his  teeth  to  the  point  he  feels  like  they  might  shatter.  he  manages  to  get  across  the  opening  ,  barely.  mirage  fumbles  to  the  ground  before  bloodhound  while  gripping  his  bloodied  arm.  

corrodent replied to your post: I refuse to provide any context for that.

you’re just trying to hide your own guilt

I have done NOTHING WRONG in my life, EVER.

I refuse to provide any context for that.

@corrodent