WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?

“what the fuck?”

[he scowls at the metal contraption screaming in his face, nearly bites his cigarette in half.]

“why the fuck do you want to know?” he responds gruffly, instead of saying, sitting next to my mother on the piano bench, as she bent my fingers into shape on the keys.

{ put down all your weapons }

He sleeps, with the Dominator set to stun in his nightstand drawer.

He does not use it. He does not even bring it out of the house. The idea of exacting justice without Sibyl’s judgment is so foreign to him that he does not even relish pondering it. For the first few days, weeks, he keeps to himself in this apartment that has been given to him, inspecting the drawers, cabinets, closets. Stocked with the bare necessities. When he is done, he goes through them again, drawers, cabinets, closets. He does not let his mind wander. In a world where his Criminal Coefficient cannot be measured, he is still a beast to routine, he still cannot shake the habit, like a narc entering rehab for the first time.

He tries not to contemplate his place in life.

When his legs grow restless, he explores this city for the first time. It stretches out before him, looming, skyscrapers like teeth dragging through grey sky, roads like twisted, congested neural pathways. There was always something to see and discover, with the way this city reconstructed itself every four hours. (A luxury he does not have.) The people seem happy here, even free. He wonders: what would they think of the world that he had come from? What does he think?

As all things are inevitable, a sense of normalcy will return to his bones. After all, this world is strange, but not new. Waking up in that lab, being told he was a guinea pig in a mass experiment, he had punched that scientist in the face, years of pent-up frustration finally freeing itself in the flight of his fist. (After all – has he ever experienced anything but supervised freedom, the steady eye of Big Brother? Has he ever known anything different?)

Normalcy will return to his bones. In the meantime, he just has to find a way to live.

ROBOTS OR DINOSAURS?

Kou offers a slow expression of - amusement? Something casually ambiguous save for a slight, surprised twitch in the cant of his brow and curl of his hand, smoke wafting from between two pinched fingers.

“Dinosaurs.” His mouth grows a little wider behind the curve of his palm, the glow of the end of his cigarette: “They continually struggle to survive.”

Robots only serve.

favorite characters → roman godfrey (hemlock grove)       "I’m an ugly person… I have an ugliness that’s impossible to love."

coming home

The fact that there are people who cannot fit in this society… The system that factors that in. What’s most important is the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people, not the happiness of the entire population. It’s important to realize that we cannot rid every neighborhood of crime. If you try to do impossible, you’re certain to fail. A perfect society is achieved by giving up a perfect society. That is most likely the basis of the Sibyl System.

Kougami Shinya (via akeeestrawberrymilk)

laura i see u and my psychopass ginokou heart is WEEPING., crawls away to class in a puddle of ginos tears

B)(BI may be busy and gone from the Internet for long stretches of time but I will never be gone from ginokou

A Softer World: 1179

(and anyway your kisses were stupid)

buy this print • support our patreon

My knife. Your back. Our mess.

(via sanctifire)

lets fuck in an art gallery 

i mean you deserve to be pinned up against a wall 

you are a masterpiece 

Rainbow Rowell, Landline

#every woman should have a butterfly knife  #and just play with it while dudes ask her dumb things 

SAW THIS COSPLAY AND FAJSLGhgijjkghfd fem!neptune right up my alley !!!! had to do a quick doodle to warm up sobs god I already love regular neptune bUT FEM!NEPTUNE IMAGINE

RP MEME >> 1/10 characters

evie is life, is bright-eyed vitality, is a roman candle weaving light through darkness. evie will brave the war with her white pug achilles at her side, evie will keep maps pinned to her wall with no sense of destination, evie, not evelyn, evelyn is a name for squares, and evie is not a square. far from it. she is an encompassing sphere. she is whole.

Kate Moss by Lance Staedler for Glamour France, 1992

No matter what they try, they won’t take away our will to fight. [x]