Never Mistake Mercy For Forgiveness

Never mistake mercy for forgiveness

Jjba writing practice

The form was tall, skin fair and olive in color. Smeared makeup as the lime colored hair framed the androgynously shaped head. The eyes, deep in color, green like the canopy of a rainforest wetted from the rains of stormy days and heavy humidity, were filled with dazed confusion. The form, showing peaks of wiry muscle, dripped the crimson colored fluids, they twisted and rolled down the folds of the outfit. Dripping. Pouring from the spot where the blow had been delivered. The form lurched forward, sneering. He hissed a jumble of words to his attacker. Who's gaze returned once more to the small images of the rainforest canopies that rested within the iris, now they filled with emotion. No longer was he struck with startled confusion, now washing over them was blood lust. A lust that wished to see this form, who had delivered a blow upon the unsuspecting body turned from the attacker, dead. Lust that sought the blood of all who stand in his way. And, as the body lurched forward again brandishing the fist to fill this lust, among the rumbling thunder and pouring rain there was a flash of lighting. The flash sending light into the air causing the pupils to shrink, almost as if to reveal what hide behind these emotions. For a split second a whole flurry of emotions shone through this lust for blood. But it was only for a fleeting moment.

Strike after desperate strike was sent to the blonde haired boy, but he seemed unbothered by this as the man shouted and groaned an agony and rage. Upon striking the boy would step aside and deliver his own punch to the exposed ribs, it was a waiting game now. A game to see who would slip up first. Like wolves they did a primal dance, sifting and twisting around one another, and like wolves they waited to see who fell first. Companions of the boy even gathered watching in intense anticipation as the blows kept being given. The fear seemed to be beginning to over take the man as more pain rushed through his body. This distraction as a voice called from the small crowd was his downfall, and he knew it. As soon as his eyes had darted aside his body seemed to scream, from deep down a primal voice chastised him and condemned him for this, and he knew exactly why. For as soon as he tried to correct this mistake all that he was met with was a fist planted in the face, his body collapsed as the rain continued to poor. He gagged as blood oozed from an assortment of cuts and bruises lined his body. His form tense as he barely held himself up, his gaze locked onto the cement as he caught his breath awaiting his fate. He looked around as footsteps approached, there stood the blonde haired boy he had so relentlessly been fighting, menacing as the rain poured over them. He could hear his heart pounding and once again the eyes shifted, the mask of a relentless murderer had been broken and now true colors showed.

behind the mask of these eyes there was more, pouring with blood and tears the eyes communicated something much clearer now. They spun a tale, sitting here they were filled with fear, the fear of a broken boy helpless to what he had become. Not just by the worlds help but with his own willingness to be molded into the beast that coward here. He huffed catching his breath as he was prepared for another blow to be struck but- a gentle hand was extended, the other shapes of the companions watched carefully, quiet mutters escaping them as the form which had been beaten and bashed looked to the blonde boy. His face still stern and cold but his body now more. . .forgiving? No. No. Merely understanding. Shakily, he raised his own wounded hand, and as his was taken, a strange new chapter seemed to have been opened in his book. He was not miraculously changed or forgiven by this act of kindness, but he was pulled from the deep hole that broken boy had fallen and dug into when he was so young. For the road to recovery was a long process

A little bit of jojo art work I've done recently

Funny little skeletons

My little gay ppl

AAA- TYSM- IM GLAD U LIKE IT- SBSBSB-

Iggy, 11

11. something [other character] believes about them that isn't true

Everyone thinks that Iggy hates kids, but actually he’s pretty neutral on them. If they’re loud and mean then it’s on sight, but the calmer kids who respect his boundaries and give him treats and scratches are fine in his book

I had to draw this- couldn't not X)

So I made a quick lil something :P

Iggy, 11

11. something [other character] believes about them that isn't true

Everyone thinks that Iggy hates kids, but actually he’s pretty neutral on them. If they’re loud and mean then it’s on sight, but the calmer kids who respect his boundaries and give him treats and scratches are fine in his book