Spotted: [HENRIETTA LARSON] from [PHEONIX, ARAZONA],  years old and called the [THE BLACK SHEEP]. The [LUCY HALE] look alike is said to be [+DRIVEN] and [+RUTHLESS], but also [-VINDICTIVE] and [-COLD]. (GEORGIA/PST/SHE/HER)
Welcome to New York City, love ! please send in your account within 6 hours or your role will be re-opened.
… when I explained to you I never had a good relationship with my family and always felt like the black sheep, you looked at me with your beautiful brown eyes and said “I understand you. I’ve always been the black sheep too, but you know what? I prefer black anyway.”
War is not a fight over territory. War is a flight of insecurity.
It is a resemblance of past, presence, and future. A simple solution to problems, that leads to torture.
How does one in a war survive? The point, the shot, and the kill and you’re still alive.
You see that’s the mistake that we make. You don’t survive you kill in an endless wake.
Wake from day to day. You’re a sleeping, human death ray.
You obtain sights from a war that kills your youth. You obtain pieces of metal for protecting or killing other humans like you, keeping you away from the simple truth.
You’re raised to be taught that war… Is this matter of victory or defeat. But after the war there is no victory, you can’t sleep. You sit there and count those innocent people’s sheep. You look back into those kids eyes. You’re looking back constantly into death’s eyes.
You see no forgiveness for what you did in the name of glory, or your country’s honor. You see no excuses for what you did when you saw that color.
In your aftermath, you see only memories. You have no rhyme or reason to make a new while you stare at your censored stories.
You’re repaid with those memorized scenes. You’re now a veteran and you sit and scheme. To figure out one more reason to go on. Wake and rise like the war every dawn.
You have the good memories, the bad, and the fake. But what you saw makes you shake. You have those good times. Those little glee moments that are set out different from the rest, like the fruits and the taste of the bitter times.
Your family doesn’t see the new. You have a completely different view. You’re not the safe and innocent person that left in your youth. You have no way to change yourself back to that slightly stippled truth.
Sometimes they have abandoned you. While you were off being the hard working mule. Sometimes you have abandoned them and yourself. You come back and you’re the shelf sitting elf. They have found love in another’s arms. While you fought and took up arms to protect them. Oh my, you even protected her or him. You deflected the danger that could behead the utter betrayal, that you wish you would have let destroy. You might even come back to a new little child that’s “Your” boy. Even if you’ve been gone longer than 40 weeks… Now you’re stabbed in the back twice and your strength leaks.
It seems like the people that saved you, when you were doing the protecting are your real family. They come back too, or sometimes not physically. Never ever, ever do they come back mentally.
You’ve seen the scene and you schemed. Now you’re expected to sit back and pat yourself on the back. While death takes the innocently, inexperienced, and blind victims heads, eventually along with yours, and puts them in a silky sack.
“War… War never changes.” (Ulysses) But The People… The People, they Change.
What trait do you like or hate the most on a person?? I looove looooooove looooooooooove you and your writings❤️❤️❤️❤️
I dislike artificial kindness because if you’re a bitch then be a bitch and be real about it, don’t play a wolf in sheeps clothing. I like and look for people with good hearts, life is made up of areas of gray but people with good hearts and a good sense of integrity make it easier to navigate.
it flew. it rode in on the wind the way witches rode broomsticks. even had a little shadow of something inky-black and hunched like a black-cat along for the ride. it knew to circle the block and come back again if the coast looked relatively clear.
a wolf in sheep’s clothing and a man beside her (maybe another wolf, the nose knows, or does it?) were both aware. but maybe she was aware before he was.
you know, by years. decades. whatever.
sigyn hunched down by the lip of the ally where she had been smoking feverishly, like she was a father waiting for a baby to be born. her chin lifted up and she drank up the sky and the stars.
Can we take a moment for Lafayette’s fabulous shojo manga eyes effect and his four gracious extra curled up powdered wig’s hair rolls, making him looks like the pure and innocent baby sheep that he is? Just ｂｅａｕｔｉｆｕｌ～
`every town has it's own lovable weirdo. here we have jorjin, the sheep man. we think he's kerch, but he looks kaelish. he claims he can speak to sheep, that he can train them to infiltrate, or something. mostly he's harmless, just a bit pesky for farmers. please avoid jorjin.`
he is listening, honestly, but at this point kuwei has to wonder if his ravkan isn’t as good as he thought. running through everything twice, he has to decide he’s understood that right. there is a sheep man. who can speak to sheep. or who claims he can, or jason thinks so? well, that’s one more for the multitude of strange encounters kuwei’s had since coming to the city.
‘have you ever met him?’ from more than a distance, he means. honestly, jason strikes him as exactly the kind of person to have a conversation with a sheep man. ‘if he is harmless, why do we avoid him?’
How you feeling? *Sammy asked. Even when human he was missing an eye it was just gross now. His hair was messy* (Ask Sammy Lawrence musicdirector)
*the small Sammy looked up at human Sammy, he looked at the eye* are you ok sir ? *He heald the plushed sheep in his arms that his other gave him when he first turned into a kid. He walked over to his other*