#Breakthings

[makethings]

Dual Promo + splitter - ft. Jason Brody ( @breakthings ) & Vaas Montenegro ( @cultesdesghoules )

Do not use unless you are the tagged blogs. Thank you.

[aquariusvibes-arch]

   ⎯  ✖  ♡  morning  after  starters  (  accepting  )

“  i thought you left.  ” - @breakthings

        Jason  in  spite  of  his  struggles  –  was  a  good  boyfriend.  Not  that  the  former  gun-for-hire,  had  many  successful  relationships  before  him.  Her  upbringing  didn’t  exactly  allow  for  child  hood  sweet  hearts.  Both  of  them  had  their  traumas  –  their  moments.    He  loved  her  –  and  took  care  of  her,  and  she  in  turn  love  and  took  care  of  them.  Most  importantly  –  they  understood  one  another.  There  was  a  comfort  in  that  far  greater  than  most  could  even  fathom.  Indonesia  had  left  a  mark  on  them  both.

        “Outdoor  yoga  was  cancelled  because  of  the  rain.”  Momentarily  there  was  a  pout  on  her  lips  –  which  blossomed  into  a  wide  smile.  “That  just  means  you  are  stuck  with  me.”  In  nothing  but  an  oversized  Wire  band  t-shirt  –  she  jumps  into  the  bed.  On  her  hands  and  knees  she  crawled  on  top  of  him.  Long  blonde  hair  fell  around  them  like  a  blanket,  as  she  leaned  downward  and  captured  his  lips  with  her  own.  “Your  up  early  –  So  what  do  you  want  for  breakfast?  Coffee?  Tea?  Or  Me?”  She  giggled,  and  she  nuzzled  her  nose  against  his.

[unrclypirxte]

"don't" Starters! - NOT ACCEPTING

@breakthings said: ❝ don’t make me tell you again. ❞ Jason @ Hoyt

---

Everytime Hoyt seemed to like the boy in blue, he went and did shit like this. Which, at first, was amusing; like his own personal reality TV show set entirely within the confines of his islands. But now it was becoming tiresome and boring. Unoriginal. Like everyone else on this God forsaken heap of privacy known as Rook, he was falling into a set pattern of actions and words. How sad.

He took his time to light his burnt out cigar, brows arching as he took a drag and considered its flavour. It wasn't one of those he usually had, and he found himself quite enjoying the new flavour. He looked to Jason after contemplating his treat, fixing The Warrior with a briefly silent look before he gestured his way in a small cloud of smoke.

"I like you, Jason!" He began enthusiastically, voice dripping with that unnearable sense of ' I'm better than you ' . "Really, I do. You remind me of someone I know from across the pond," He paused again, but this time realised that he wasn't here for a game of verbal tennis.

Very well.

The Tyrant stood from his chair and walked around his desk, taking a seat on the edge to create a more intimate distance between them. His head tilted slightly to the side. "Straight to business then? A man after my own heart!" He gestured to the seat before him, "Can we talk about this like men?"

[cultesdesghoules]

『•• vaas & jason ••』

Vaas had the nose of a purebred bloodhound. Either that, or he was crazy beyond comprehension. Or both. Not only was he a master huntsman and tracker, but he was also frighteningly patient, biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, always aiming for the kill. And with every single one, with every single notch in his belt, there came a childish sense of joy, elated in all the brutalistic ways there were to tear someone down. If the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again, could Vaas say he was sane with the loophole of there being so many methods at his disposal? As much fun as the current hunt was, however, it was also infuriating. No, not infuriating. Vaas wouldn’t say that. He’d say it was pissing him off. Conveniently, he’d leave out why it angered him that much: envy. Envy that Jason was so privileged, so lucky to have someone who would go to the ends of the earth for him (unlike that manipulative bitch Citra), yet he wanted to… to what, exactly? That, Vaas never knew, and the more Jason slipped from his grasp, the more his rage grew. ❝ You motherfucker… ❞ Vaas growled, turning on one of his men. He’d been told they’d found a trail, yet now it proved fruitless, leading them to a dead end. ❝ You waste my time, you waste everybody’s time, and that fucking colonizer prick is still fucking skipping his merry way through my jungle. And why is that, eh? ❞ As the grunt fumbled with his words, Vaas had casually unholstered his handgun, planning to make an example of him in front of the surrounding crew. ❝ Because of y— ❞ A nearby rustling interrupted the punishment. Swiveling in the direction where the sound came from, he grinned, teeth bared. Vaas knew all the fauna of the islands like the back of his hand, knew their habits, their scents, their sounds, their tracks. And just like he could tell all the familiarities of his homeland, he could also tell when something foreign had trespassed. This was entirely human. As if on cue, Jason showed himself before turning tail, running deeper into the overgrowth of the jungle, with Vaas’ laughter trailing behind him. The hunt began. ❝ Hermano, why’re you running? Huh? WHY ARE YOU FUCKING RUNNING?! ❞ Cackles and yells resounded from his men as they followed suit. Fueled entirely by bloodlust, Vaas never slowed down, nor did he ever tire, continuously gaining on the outsider who didn’t know the chaos of the island as well as he did. As the sun drew down, Jason entered his field of vision once more, and gleefully Vaas barked and howled like a wild animal to instill fear, to warn the other that he was closing in. ❝ Jaaasoon… What’s the matter, Jason? ❞ The dread Jason felt was palpable, acrid and heavy in the air. Closer, closer, Vaas could hear him breathing, could smell his sweat, could taste his fright. A hand shot forward, fingers tightly wounding in the back of Jason’s hair as a swift kick landed in the back of a knee. ❝ You fucking little bitch. I asked you a question… ❞ Words trailed off into a hyena’s cackle. ❝ WHAT’S THE MATTER, JAAASON?! ❞

『•• cont. — @breakthings ••』

[mikewheelertmmoved]

@breakthings​ rolled the dice ;; [ text ] what the hell happened? ( from robbie! ) ›» ( text prompts.)

[📱 — robbie ] i think you need to be more specific  [📱 — robbie ] because A LOT has happened

[📱 — robbie ] but if you are talking about my black eye [📱 — robbie ] well, i might have accidentally walked into someone’s fist

[aliasmultimuse]

@breakthings gets a starter from Jason to... Jason?

Jason lies on the ground, hyper aware of his ragged, pained breathing, of the quick beating of his heart. There is something warm dripping from the top his head down his face and into his eyes and he doesn't know if it's sweat, water from his still wet hair or blood. The helicopter crash has left him disoriented, barely conscious of his surroundings, seeing little and processing less. He blinks again and again (and expecting shit to change- why is that bullshit stuck in his head?) hoping it will do something for his pinprick vision. He tries to move, knows he has to keep moving, but his aching muscles refuse to cooperate.

When he first spots Vaas, it looks, feels like a vision, one of many. It's only when the man crouches down and Jason feels the faint smell of his sweat, blood and gunpowder, that he realizes his nemesis is there in the flesh. ❝Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity?❞ Vaas asks once more but Jason can barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. He stares down the barrel of Vaas' gun and for the first time since the night he escaped his cage, he feels afraid. The gunshot is the loudest and the quietest he's ever heard. As pain blooms in his chest, a painful clarity blooms in his fogged mind. This is how I die, he thinks, instants before everything goes suddenly dark.

Light again. Jason is dreaming or maybe he's dead. He moves limbs that don't hurt anymore, opens his eyes to take in his surroundings. Only for a second he's fooled that he's still on the Rook islands. The place, wherever and whatever it is, looks like Rook, but only superficially, like someone pieced it together from a retelling of a fading memory. It feels like a dream but also acutely real. The sight, the sounds, the smells assault Jason's senses, he feels aware of his surroundings, like he's never been before. So he stands, checks for his weapons: machete, SVD and his beloved red Vector, relieved in finding he still has them all. He's in the middle of a narrow dirt path in the forest and while his wisdom tells him to move out of the road, his instinct leads him along it. Jason expects his steps to feel weightless, instead he can feel the soles of his beaten up boots sink into the moist earth.

He's barely walked for a mile, when he hears voices in the distance. Hands clutching his shredder, he lowers to a crouch to silently creep closer to their source. Then, suddenly, he sees them: it's him and Vaas, their ghosts perhaps. Jason watches from his hiding spot in the foliage as a familiar scene unfolds. It's a recent memory, barely hours old but there's something wrong about it that Jason can't immediately pinpoint. ❝Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over again, and expecting shit to change,❞ Vaas says but that's not Vaas' voice, that's not his face either, but Jason's.

The man who looks like Jason, who should- must be Vaas, leans down and forward, at eye level with the man who looks like Vaas and might actually be him. ❝Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity?❞ he asks, a serene smile on his face. He boops him on the nose, like it's all a joke, like they're friends, brothers or lovers playing with each other. There's the same playful energy in his steps as he backs away and leans a foot on the stone tied to a rope that's tied around Vaas' bound wrists. It's with a grin and cheer that he kicks it down into the nearby hole (a cenote, or the fucking White Rabbit's hole, who the hell knows at this point?), sending it and Vaas down into it. Jason (the real one- or so he thinks) chooses that moment to come out of hiding, weapon at the ready. He points it at the man that looks like him, finger on the trigger. ❝Hands where I can fucking see them,❞ he hisses.

[survivedbefore]

@breakthings : ❝ when you came in here, what did you want? ❞ ( from Billy in his hospital room :))) )

usually,   she   would   let   what   billy   has   to   say   rattle   her.   however,   max   feels   like   she   has   something   that   will   make   him   happy.   at   least,   give   him   something   to   look   forward   to   instead   of   negativity   surrounding   his   survival.   "   i   know   i   took   a   lot   of   your   shit   without   your   permission   but   i   saved   something   for   you,   it's   waiting   for   you   to   stop   moping   and   bitching.   "   max   dangles   the   keys   to   his   camaro   in   front   of   him   and   places   the   keys   on   the   table   next   to   his   hospital   bed.   "   i   threw   a   fit   when   neil   wanted   to   have   it   sent   to   the   junkyard.   it   needs   a   cow   shit   ton   of   work   but   i   was   thinking   it   would   give   you   an   incentive   to   get   better   instead   of   me,   mikey   and   eddie   harrasing   you   to   do   so.   "   his   camaro   is   far   from   being   in   pristine   condition.   however,   his   car   survived   ---   just   like   billy   survived   much   to   max's   relief.

[jockfm]

@breakthings​ liked for a starter.

“if i see you there, munson, you’ll get your ass beat at the basketball court on sight.” jason growled, a clear pointed look at robbie showing that he wasn’t fucking around. he knew that robbie was a dealer, or at the very least carried his own gear and jason carver wasn’t going to allow that at his games. it was clear, even to those on the team that if jase caught them using or dealing, he didn’t give a fuck about what it would do for their futures, he’d go straight to the coach and get them kicked off the team. those guys were his friends, so he had even less patience for those that weren’t and had anything to do with narcotics.

song: yah yah by eminem ft. royce da 5′9″, black thought, q-tip, & denaun

[mikewheelertm]

matt hudson. @breakthings ( sc. )

❝ Do you hear that ? The pulse of life from your heart, the slow in-and-out from your lungs ? Even when you are silent, even when you block out all noise, your body is still a cacophony of life. Mine is not. ❞

[psychiclegacy]

❛ it’s very rude to stare. ❜ ( From lydia, mayhaps? )

. lydia's words are enough to wake him up from the trance he seemed to be in - combining lack of sleep mixed with night terrors and a busy mind trying to figure out what it all meant ends up resulting in a zombie . " hm ? oh , 'm sorry . " slightly awkward now , he shifts a little on his seat . " i wasn't here here , if you know what i mean . " he plays it off with an half smile . " it looks good though . "

INBOX PROMPTS * always accepting ( @breakthings )

[aquariusvibes-arch]

Smash or Pass? Jason lmao

⎯ ✖ ♡  smash  or  pass ! ( accepting. )

        "Oh  babe  -  you  are  so  silly.  Smash  of  course!'

[unrclypirxte]

"don't" Starters! - NOT ACCEPTING

@breakthings said: ❝ don’t even think about it. ❞ Jason @ Grant

---

Grant looked at Jason as if he was INSANE for the first time in their lives. Never before had he ever thought ' you're fucking crazy! ' and meant it. Never before had he felt it so deep within his bones that the mere thought of his brother's denial sent a jolt of nausea through him. For a split second, he even wondered if this was Jason, or a test or hallucination caused by starvation and sleep deprivation.

He had been through so much shit for God knows how long in that camp. Things that the army could never prepare you for or teach you about. He had entered that camp a man of brass and confidence, but what left was merely a husk and broken desperation of the brother he was. Effectively maimed for life, chronic pain had now left a permanent limp in his step.

They needed to get out. He needed to get out. Get away from her those who run the island.

"J," He began, voice breathy as if he had just gone for a long run or had exerted himself in some way ( even standing was making him weak ) . "We need to leave. We ARE leaving. Fuck this island, okay? We've got a boat. Let's go."

Did he particularly want to leave whoever wasn't rescued? No, of course not. But unlike the beginning of this nightmare, he knew what awaited them all should things inevitably crumble.

[cultesdesghoules]

@breakthings said (jason → vaas)... "WHO ARE YOU? THE DEVIL?"

❝ WHO IS THE DEVIL? ❞ Laughter cut through the night, unable to comprehend what was asked. A trail of content humming followed as his attention never wavered from the table before him. They were alone now, finally, tucked away in the belly of a secluded camp with only the occasional sound of wildlife and the muffled stirring of guards beyond the makeshift walls of sheets and corrugated scrap metal. Jason lay behind him on the dirt floor, wrists tied behind his back and unable to see the surprise waiting for him. And it stirred something within Vaas, the ability to be in such an intimate setting with his victim, his plaything, his sacrifice. ❝ You're funny. That's very funny, Jason. Very funny. Anybody ever tell you you should get into comedy, hermano? No? ❞ The question reeked of sarcasm and hung heavy in the air, adding weight to the sweltering humidity of the jungle. God and the Devil, who were they? As a child, he remembered stories of great deities who controlled every little detail of the world, and he remembered the divide with the other Rakyats who followed a tiny, black book that demanded one must beg for absolution lest ye be left behind whence the End of Days arrived. It was all bullshit. All these gods and all these devils, they had no place in his life. There was no good and there was no evil. Despite his penchant for repeating the word ❛ insanity ❜ over and over and over again, he truly believed that's all there was: the sane and the insane, and what one inevitably chose to put forth into the world with the power of where they fell within that spectrum. And where did he fall? Did he want to know? Stimulants prevented him from thinking too deeply, white lines guiding him to a wonderland filled with absolutely nothing, and that was how he liked it. But the drugs had worn off long ago and there was no time for a perk up. There was still work to be done, especially in the form of punishment for those who'd stepped out of line, for those who dared to trespass into his violent paradise. He simply had to deal with the extra company of his most intimate thoughts, unable to keep them at bay until he was finished. ❝ Is that what you think my true form is? ❞ Was that for Jason to answer? Or for himself?

Voice had lilted, slow and thick in concentration instead of his typical high-speed, cocaine-induced rambling and yelling. His attention still poured onto the tabletop, making precise cuts. The gentle thunk! of a blade on wood, followed by a drag of steel through tender flesh, filled the silence that neither wanted to fill just yet. But as Vaas continued prepping ❛ dinner ❜ for his ❛ dogs, ❜ he couldn't help but feel insulted, albeit just slightly. This, right here, was proof enough he was kind, even to those who didn't deserve it. Wasn't it? ❝ Your Devil, is that who I am to you? Your white fucking devil—who, really, Jason, was not that bad of a guy, y'know? Sure, sure, sure, he went against the grain, didn't wanna listen to daddy anymore, but at the end of the day, who betrayed who? Huh? Who? The rebellious son or the father who threw him to the fucking pits of Hell? That was a little too fucking harsh. Don't you agree, Jason? Is that how you see me? ❞ The blade stuck momentarily in something solid. ❝ No, you've made up your mind. I don't wanna hear it. Why should I answer to you, eh? Tell me why. Why should I play your little games? ❛ Vaas! Vaas! You're the devil, Vaas! ❜ FUCK YOU! No matter what I say, it won't change what you think. ❞ Everything went quiet once again. One hand pinned down what lay out on the table before pressing the rest of his weight onto the knife, grinding and grinding down, down, down. This was the most important part of Jason's extended visit to the islands so far. It was a gift! One that said ❛ Welcome, and remember you must die! ❜ How was he the Devil when he held such kindness in his heart? As the question tumbled around, steel found wood again, coming to a halt. Tension had corded tight like razor wire around his bones, yet with the completion of this final job, he could finally release the breath he'd been holding and all the stress that had come with it. ❝ You're still doubting me, yes? I mean, you can see my hands and feet for yourself, hermano… ❞ At that, Vaas finally turned to face his captive, hands casually placed upon the table as he leaned back a moment for Jason to get a good look, to see he'd not sprouted claws, nor cloven hooves. A smile crawled upward, yet it never truly reached his eyes, saurian and cruel in the glow of the firelight. A miasma of fear and dread spread throughout the chamber, emanating from the prey on the floor, the pathetic Californian boy who traipsed onto his land. His home. And as hypocritical as it was, he hated Jason for the murder he'd wrought upon his men. No life was more humble or inferior to another, because although many are able to snatch life away, none can give it back. No amount of self-righteous ❛ revenge ❜ would bring Jason's brother back into this world. But there was something Vaas could do, the bringer of death that he was. Reaching behind himself, he lifted the final cut off the table. The vessel of life, all thoughts and feelings collected there. And as Vaas knelt down, he placed the treasure on the floor, just out of Jason's reach. Carefully, he opened the gateways to the soul, as they say. The eyes. Matted in dirt and blood, Grant's head sat, staring into the void, and from the void, Jason stared back. Turning back to the table, Vaas began separating the ❛ rations. ❜ His ❛ dogs ❜ still had to be fed, after all. With a silent laugh, he asked again, this time to himself. ❝ WHO IS THE DEVIL? ❞

[barhd]

                                        Winter Starters.

@breakthings​ asked: "SNOWBALL FIGHT!" ( Robbie! )

                    DUSTIN   WASN’T   SO   SURE   WHAT   HE   EXPECTED   WHILE   walking   with   Robbie   in   the   snow   covered   ground,   but   it   did   take   him   by   surprise   when   he   felt   a   cold   sting   on   the   back   of   his   neck.   He   shuddered,   a   small   noise   leaving   his   throat   as   he   jumped.   The   younger   turned   to   face   the   older   who   stood   there   grinning   like   a   proud   idiot.   One   of   his   hands   reached   back   to   brush   the   snow   from   the   back   of   his   neck,   but   part   of   the   snowball   had   already   slipped   down   his   back.

            “   WHAT   THE   HELL?!   ”   HE   HAD   SHOUTED,   BUT   WAS   not   angry   with   him.   Just   wished   he   would’ve   had   a   better   warning   that   they   were   starting   this   fight,   “   Dude—   ”   he   was   caught   off   by   Robbie’s   final   declaration,   and   another   hit   in   his   chest,   “   Hey,   that   isn’t   fair!   ”   Dustin   ducked   down   to   grab   a   handful   of   snow   for   himself.   He   patted   it   together   as   quickly   as   he   could,   and   threw   it   towards   Robbie,   “   Just   remember   that   you   started   it!   ”

[webheadedhero]

@breakthings​ made my spider-sense tingle: ‘  this is my only face! i don’t have a lot of faces!  ’ ( From Kurt / Nightcrawler! )

( * &. ━  NEW GIRL SENTENCE STARTERS

  “ okay, okay!” he conceded, putting his hands up to punctuate his words. pausing for a second, one hand going up to the back of his neck to try and better explain himself. “ I was just saying that...you had a look that said you might be able to help.” he might have been a bit optimistic, but he had always liked, kurt. “ look, all I’m saying is...I could use some help on this case. and, I think you should feel honored that I called you first. just uh...don’t tell, logan that.”

[survivedbefore]

❝ you shouldn’t be joking about that. “ from Robbie

max   cannot   help   that   she   uses   dark   humor   and   sarcasm   as   a   shield.   it   is   a   safety   mechanism   that   she   has   built   over   the   years   to   protect   herself.   the   self-proclaimed   zoomer knows   that   @breakthings   means   well.   however,   max   has   a   lot   on   her   mind.   who   is   going   to   pay   for   her   lengthy   hospital   stay   and   physical   therapy?   without   a   doubt,   susan   could   not,   after   all,   susan   is   barely   making   ends   meet   as   it   is   before   max   survived   vecna's   attack.

the   redhead   looks   in   the   direction   of    robbie's   voice.   she   refuses   to   let   anyone   see   her   cry   or   see   that   max   is   worried   for   her   future     and   her   family.   billy's   shitty   little   sister   refuses   to   show   any   weakness   ---   despite   the   fact   that   she   feels   anything   but   strong.   "   --   thanks   for   stopping   by   since   mikey   couldn't,   robbie   but   i'm   tired.   i   think   i'm   going   to   nap   while   i   still   can   before   the   doctors   do   their   rounds.   "