blake kathryn
Not today Justin
titsay
No title available
#extradirty
Keni
Discoholic 🪩
Cosimo Galluzzi
Game of Thrones Daily
roma★
$LAYYYTER
cherry valley forever
⁂
No title available
DEAR READER
we're not kids anymore.
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Xuebing Du
h
No title available
seen from Spain
seen from Portugal
seen from Poland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Oman
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@deathvow
SOOOO……….. LIKE.
I am ENTHUSIASTICALLY wanting to write with you but I am SLOW.
I AM RIDICULOUSLY HAPPY TO GET OOC MESSAGES BUT I AM SLOW.
HOLY SHIT LIKE I ALWAYS FUCKING WEEP WITH UTTER FUCKING JOY WHEN I GET ASK IC BUT I AM S LOW.
LIKE I AM GENERALLY VERY SLOW BUT I APPRECIATE MY MUTUALS.
I AM SUPER RIDICULOUSLY SLOW BUT I REALLY want to LIKE CULTIVATE OUR MUSES RELATIONSHIP 100000% OKAY?
I’M JUST
SO SLOW
AND I AM GRATEFUL FOR THOSE WHO WAIT
AND YES WE CAN BE SLOW TOGETHER.
reblog this if your muse is Not Straight
five word prompts
[inspired by this]
“actually… i just miss you.”
“alright, i’ll leave you alone.”
“and slowly… i was forgotten.”
“and then everything just disappears.”
“and where do i go?”
“anyone could tell from here.”
“are you finishing that or…?”
“are you stupid or stupid?”
“anything, just call me, okay?”
“bitch better have my money.”
“bro… that’s so… not cool…”
“but did you do it?”
“call me now. it’s urgent.”
“can’t you listen to me?”
“cross that. don’t answer that.”
“don’t even think about it.”
“don’t you dare walk away.”
“do it. i dare you.”
“did you think i forgot?”
“eventually… you just move on.”
“even if you still do.”
“everything will fall into place.”
“fight me, you attractive stranger.”
“for once, i need you.”
“for once… i was right.”
“for once… i was wrong.”
“forget i even asked you.”
“forget it. you fucking suck.”
“fuck’s sake, what’s your problem?”
“fuck off. i mean it.”
“give and take. that’s life.”
“great. perfect. nice. fuck this.”
“have you lost your mind?”
“hello? it’s me. i was-”
“hey… that wasn’t so nice.”
“here’s a glass of whatever.”
“how about a hug, hm?”
“how about you make me?”
“i haven’t forgot you yet.”
“i can’t be around you.”
“i don’t need you, really.”
“i don’t need this now.”
“is this your first time?”
“it’s just a cut, really.”
“it wasn’t me, i swear!”
“i said i love you.”
“just don’t fuck it up.”
"just… come back alive, okay?”
“just make sure you’ve eaten.”
“kick his ass for me.”
“killed him? wait, what, literally?”
“life really sucks. feel better.”
“letting go hurts… a lot.”
“let me live, will you?”
“no, i don’t need you.”
“nothing can hurt me now.”
“nothing matters anymore to me.”
“okay it was me… so?”
“people lie all the time.”
“pipe the fuck down, asshole.”
“please, you can’t die now.”
“please don’t leave me alone.”
“quiet. they can hear us.”
“quick! give me your phone!”
“quicker, you freaking piece of-”
“quit it or i’ll bite.”
“quit staring! they’ll notice us!”
"really? do i look stupid?”
“real smooth, tripping over air.”
“rise and shine, sweet thing.”
“rise and fucking shine, motherfucker.”
“seriously? give me a break.”
“so… what are we now?”
“so… did you miss me?”
“so… can we go eat?”
“so… when’s the next flight?”
“so… how did everything go?”
“sometimes, i wish you died.”
“so what? you did it.”
“time passes slower without you.”
“then what do you suggest?”
“the fuck? who are you?”
“then you tell me why.”
“this is not working out.”
“this isn’t what i wanted.”
“this is all a fucking disaster.”
“when did it all happen?”
“who knew you’d be here?”
“why do i even bother?”
“why do i love you?”
“why didn’t you tell me?”
“you’re just… so, so stupid.”
“you can’t be here now.”
“you look like an accident.”
“you really need to go.”
“you know who to call.”
"zero fucks given. next please.”
Send a symbol for your muse to gently touch mine by:
❥ : tucking stray hair behind their ear
✿ : trailing soft kisses down their arm
☁ : cuddling with them under a blanket
★ : pressing a kiss to the back of their hand
▲ : leaning your head against their shoulder
♪ : singing them a lullaby and brushing their hair
◆ : wrapping your arms around them from behind
✤ : lacing your fingers into theirs and holding their hands
♣ : slowly pulling them into your lap to curl up and cuddle
▨ : rubbing their back to calm them down when they’re upset
▰ : embracing them and holding them firmly against your chest
yo it’s a starter call ( i still haven’t written my verses but try to catch these hecking hands anyway ) will vary in length n blablabla as usual ok bye
( MUSIEA. )
The words fall from her mouth without her even thinking as she watches him crouch down on the ground like a wounded animal. His current, pathetic state is fitting for someone who kills with so little regard for human life. For someone who considers himself a real predator as he seems to, his own body seemingly rejecting the wretched soul that inhabits it in such a painful way is more than deserved.
This place must be meddling with her sanity, though. The gods will always forgive even their most sinful child, if that person seeks their forgiveness. They never abandon anyone; if anything, humans are the ones who abandon the gods and the spirits. Escher is clearly not the sort of person to seek out forgiveness from the gods, however, so he may never get it.
She can’t help but flinch as more blood comes up from his throat before her eyes…it’s painful to watch, even if the person in such a state is more than deserving of that pain and more. His face contorted in anguish and frustration as his usually gleaming white teeth are turned red, blood dripping down his chin while he’s bent over as if the weight of his sinful existence is crushing him…he truly looks like the monster she knows he is. So why is it that she struggles when gets to witness such greatly deserved suffering? There’s an emotion she can’t quite place, and it’s not pity. He deserves none of that. It isn’t the reminder of teachings from the priest and the sisters who treated her like family, either. While they may very well be calling to her from the afterlife, telling her to remember the importance of mercy and forgiveness, his sins are too great for her to forgive…especially when he shows no signs of contrition at all.
Afficher davantage
musiea’s nerve and baffling naiveté entertain him; but her preaching . . . irritates him. her faith is useless, unwanted, and being blinded by light is no better than being lost in the darkness. even those that taught her used gods as a shelter made of white lies, and musiea bathes in a light that doesn’t harm her, and her only. the children that were given away might as well be dead now. even when he gave her the grim truth, she rejected it—— and escher has nothing else to offer. she might as well drown in her illusions. he doesn’t care.
❛ don’t you ever shut up? ❜ he hisses through clenched teeth, mirroring her when she wanders closer to him. her attempts at killing him are more amusing than listening to her sprout nonsense. he wanted to leave and go on, yet he can’t imagine himself keeping focus when she’s debating morals and insulting him.
he plants his sword between them, ground cracking, yielding to his strength, and he wipes his chin, blood now all but smeared across his skin. it’s fitting, almost beautiful, even. he leans on his weapon, clearing his throat, still feeling uncomfortable from his previous agony. ❛ you’re nothing but talk. your beliefs benefit someone of your livelihood only; in my world, your teachings don’t have purpose, but they do help covering lives of crimes. ❜ he smiles then—— it’s lopsided and made just for her.
the gods never bothered helping someone as tainted as him, nor did they quench his thirst or fill his belly no matter how lost, broken and young he was. it’s pathetic, how she cannot think by herself. his hand reaches to smooth a wrinkle on the fabric ‘pon her shoulder; if anything, it’s too close for comfort. he’s mocking her and he clearly asserts dominance in the disguise of misplaced kindness. ❛ my actions are not for you or your gods to judge and i’m not looking for forgiveness or anything of the like. ❜ oh, he’s looking for the right place to die—— please, please, let him find that girl which laugh sounded like bells on a sunny day. ❛ i just need you to be quiet and tag along until this whole dumb competition is over. then, i get to be immortal. ❜
the ribbon resting close to her heart is between his gloved fingers, toying with it mindlessly. his head tilts on the side, flipping the decoration upward, brushing her face. ❛ believe me, i’d rather be alone than having to team up with you, ❜ he scoffs and her wrist is in his grasp, grip as firm as if he’s holding his sword. he emphasizes on the very first wound she suffered since they arrived aboard the ark. ❛ you’re clumsy and a liability. i protect you when i clearly shouldn’t, given how you’ve tried to kill me twice now. i’m more than patient. you’re only alive because i want you to be. ❜
It seems that Escher’s not the only one in their relationship who’s always be searching for reactions. Perhaps it’s his influence, or all the talk of tricks and mischief associated with the season. Either way, a dangerous sort of curiosity is about to be satisfied as she nonchalantly walks by him, not even stopping. The two of them crossing paths like this is normal - save for the fact that she delivers a firm, open-handed smack against the work of art that is his rear end as she passes.
❛ hey, musiea, ❜ her entrance in the room is not loud but escher could recognize her by the way her boots struck the wooden floors alone. he doesn’t look away from the tiny piece of dessert he’s about to taste, and when he does, he nods, humming in approval. he doesn’t overthink the fact that musiea doesn’t greet him back. ❛ i hate to admit it, but that damn granny was actually right, ❜ he rambles on, knowing she fathoms what and who he’s referring to. ❛ it does taste better with the ingredients she told me to use. ❜
said damn granny is clara, the old lady living down the hill who took a liking to him. how he wishes he could simply be rude to her so he wouldn’t have to bother with the old hag ever again—— but he couldn’t risk the chance to tarnish musiea’s image to the townsfolk. to humor her while he helped her carry some belongings when they unfortunately crossed paths, they exchanged recipes and cooking tips. if it weren’t for his relationship with musiea whom clara adores, she would’ve liked him to marry her youngest daughter in the hopes of having even more beautiful grandchildren, she said. ( escher prefers not to think about it—— he was mortified. )
❛ mason would love that dessert. too bad he lost our last duel . . . again. ❜ that boy reminds him of musiea in more ways than one. he seems hell - bent on protecting her just as much as little rosina is determined to follow him around when outside.
another bite. hm, chocolatey. well, that grandma might have helped him perfect his recipe, but he still did all the work, therefore, all credits are for him to take. he shrugs it off, finally looking at musiea who is now barely steps away from him. a second passes, until he says with a grin on his lips, ❛ what’s the matter? are you in a bad mood? oi, musiea, ❜ and at the sight of her visage, it dawns on him; his smirk so wide that his fangs are for the world to see. ❛ are you blushing? what, you horny or someth—— ❜
his breath is suddenly stuck in his throat, posture suddenly straight and rigid as if ice touched the crook of his neck. the confusion shows and lingers in the whites of eyes, lips parting slightly as he couldn’t possibly finish whatever wise comment he was saying. his smug demeanor vanished within a heartbeat, or in that case, in the instant of a smack upon his ass, of all places.
escher doesn’t even bother to move. he forgets about dessert, about that damned old hag and about his pride in beating a seven years old in a wooden sword fight. he unconsciously reaches for the place she hit, and he wonders just who the hell was that if it wasn’t musiea?
❛ . . . wha . . . ? ❜
( ALM. )
@deathvow
✦ —— ❝ so, uh… ❞ it’s not often he has to rely on a vocal pause, thinking just speaking from the heart the easiest and best route normally; however, with nothing to say, alm falters and uses it as a crutch. he had been hoping to run into the man sometime before his coronation ceremony, but now that the man was in front of him, he realizes he didn’t plan a course of action.
heh. yet somehow that was just like him. he supposes celica did more than enough thinking for the both of them. when that thought enters his head, his troubles seem like nothing at all suddenly for an answer comes to him albeit a clumsy one– a casual one more fitting for him than any grand order or big question: ❝ you wanna grab a drink ? i got some wine from back home and i don’t really drink too much. ❞
patience is not his virtue by any means, yet escher surprises himself waiting calmly while silence now lingers between the both of them. he was actually planning on leaving—— the lost heir is more than lucky to come across a ghost such as him. that boy must have many questions in relation with his duty as both the confidant and hidden blade of the late emperor. escher knew about his existence and his role to play in the grand scheme of things, and yet, this is the first time he gets to properly look at him. he’s royalty, yet doesn’t carry himself with the grace of a prince, and his features are still youthful, maybe even naive—— so different from his cousin, a true paragon of rigelian nobility.
escher turns to face him fully while tugging on his hood, revealing untamed silver hair. ❛ wine from ram village, huh? ❜ his chin dips, seemingly in thought, and then, shoulders would loosen up, hand resting nonchalantly ‘pon his hip. the corner of his lips slightly quirks upward. ❛ sure, why not. can’t pass up such a good offer. ❜
”The gods have abandoned you” (sounds like some angry Ark Musi right there)
it’s not only the gods that have abandoned him, he thinks. no matter where he ended up, he was something to be used, not even worthy to be put down by a sword. whatever the gods gave him with one hand, they soon took away with the other—— but aida, aida, sweet aida. they cannot take her away from him. that promise is all he has. he reflects on it, and despite suffering from her absence on that fateful day, it was only fitting to help her gain freedom when she selflessly saved him by granting hope. ( what will aida even think when she sees what he has become in order to survive? )
escher slowly turns ‘round, meeting musiea’s cold stare with his own. sometimes he wonders if the rules of the ark influence her spiteful behavior, for without them, he could easily toy with her life—— crush her pale neck between the unforgiving grip of his fingers. how sinful it would be, to kill a woman of her cloth; but oh, he is no stranger with murdering people who claim to carry the voice of the gods. no matter what she is, though, she is weak - willed, refusing to kill him when on his knees. it’s a miscalculation on her part and escher is used to evaluate his chances of survival, but perhaps he stopped doing so a long time ago. he grew to be a menace that no one can possibly contain. now, he always leads the hunt.
pain gnaws at his chest, and he feels it burning his throat, agony soon spilling from his mouth in a second wave. blood almost tastes sweetly, dripping abundantly from his chin now. he smiles, fangs coated in crimson as if a wolf caught on feasting on its prey. he catches his breath, and snarls, ❛ do you think i care? i have no need for your damned gods. ❜
soon, even his life would be gone. just like everything else was gone now, too. if only he could see aida one last time and die in her arms—— it would be good. his suffering would have meaning. it would feel nice, even—— finally some form of peace in a lifetime full of death and loneliness. but if he fails in gaining that immortality . . . he wonders if he’ll have the chance to storm the heavens and kill her so - called gods. he stands, running his tongue over his teeth and bottom lip to collect blood before harshly spitting it out.
musiea has to understand. he needs that immortality. he fucking needs it, no matter what gets thrown in their way. if not . . . aida will have to understand instead. he wasn’t fast enough to find his way back to her.
❛ if i were you, i would worry less about what the gods think and more about the fury of a patient man. ❜
wishlist
big sword
big sheath for my big sword
RIPPED arms for taking my big sword out on a refreshing walk in the sun
TAGGED BY: @serirosea!! thank u sm nITAAAAAAA TAGGING: @piouspromise @necrosin @sireneia @valflame @heraldeath @arclady @epochallead @stupores idk everyone!! feel free to also ignore 💖
— BASICS.
▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE ? escher’s 6′ tall in canon i believe, but i personally portray him as 6′3′’ based on his in - game model. he’s tall.
▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ? sure. he doesn’t think too much about it though. being this tall gives him some sort of edge in battle; he has an impressive sword arm to boot and has no problem with wielding a long sword with one hand. given his line of work, it doesn’t hurt to look intimidating and his height can help with that.
▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE ? pure white, with undertones of silver. very thick, and reaches the back of his neck—— probably out of care. it’s mostly disheveled; if anything, it adds to his charm. his bangs fall so effortlessly and elegantly on his jaw it almost gives away his forsaken noble blood. as he gets older, the length of his hair do get on his nerves and keeps it short at some point or he simply ties it all the time.
( ELL. )
❛ you seem mad. i like it. ❜ a smile creeps up on their unsuspecting features / maybe not the most intentional thing, but just as irritating either way. it was a treacherous path to walk, should that path be alongside someone such as ell. a head that is forward, dropped slightly while the rest of their posture is straight and respectable. ❛ did i strike a nerve somewhere? was it something i said? ❜ a smile that seemed to genuinely enjoy the emotional struggles of the few, the entertainment of the many. a smile that said “ i hope i am the cause of your pain. ” ( @deathvow
❛ ugh. something like that, yeah. you’re just so damn annoying. ❜ he grouses. just what did he get himself into this time? that’ll teach him for taking some job he barely researched on in the hopes of making quick cash. well, a mistake he won’t make twice. his long sword rests ‘pon his shoulder with ease, frown framing cold, silver eyes. that kid looks anything but normal. were they even human? escher, on his side, is naught but visibly irritated and human. the latter claim is questionable as he bares his fangs, growling all the while; sometimes he is seemingly more beast than man. ❛ i hate brats. especially when they brag. there’s nothing more annoying than that. ❜
💖
when he wakes, the bed is cold and empty. escher expected just as much, but shifts his body to peek over his shoulder anyhow. no luck. musiea is far ahead of him today. while he usually keeps her company no matter where she goes, she probably thought best to let him rest. being taken care of feels comforting, but there’s always the possibility of things going awry. musiea is more than capable of holding her own should something happen, but the children following her around are another tale. there’s no use in fretting or feeling upset however; she only had his best interest in mind.
he dresses so plainly he almost feels cold. there’s a chill in the air announcing the shift in seasons that is soon to come. the clock is ticking but escher doesn’t battle time anymore. he thinks of heading out and look for musiea, but the orphanage—— their home—— really could use some tidying and cleaning. so he does.
mop in hand, he gets to work. ( some mercenary he is . . . sometimes, he hopes for some ruffians to barge in so he could enjoy battling once more. he laughs at that, raising his makeshift weapon to fight some imaginary enemy. he stops when he slips on the wet floor and almost fall. ) needless to say, it goes smoothly—— escher warms the place as he goes on. most of the children are tough in nature and escher commends them for being resilient despite suffering so early on in their lives; but he knows little rosina easily has cold feet and a wet nose to match. he removes dust from furniture and the rugs. he turns everyone’s bed.
when musiea makes her return, he’s standing tall, nose in a cookbook, digits carding through his hair whilst he reads and considers dinner. ( he heard the children from afar, now playing outside until twilight darkens the skies. ) they exchange greetings, escher slightly lowering his book yet not moving from his spot as she walks to him. it’s all too natural when she reaches to him, on her toes to meet him halfway. escher is more than eager to comply and so he leans in some, letting her brush lips on his own. it’s warm, tender, and her—— therefore, perfect.
❛ mm. that’s rather nice, ❜ he teases, almost giving her a reprimanding look, but the grin blooming on his features gives him away. ❛ but can’t you see that i’m busy? ❜ and he kisses her at his turn, as softly as she did. / @piouspromise! ( 💖 * lean in to give my muse a sweet / chaste kiss. )
Arrogant boy, love yourself so no one has to, they’re better off without you. Arrogant boy, cause a scene like you’re supposed to, they’ll fall asleep without you, you’re lucky if your memory remains.
Therapy, All Time Low (via palmreadercas)
( TATIANA. )
@deathvow
✦ —— ❝ oh dear, pardon me ! ❞ the saint takes a step back after colliding with the mercenary. how clumsy of her. this is what she gets for walking around an unfamiliar palace with no escort. ❝ please do forgive me. i came here to look for general zeke… but i’m afraid i don’t know north from south in these halls. ❞ her face visibly brightens when she says her lover’s name, her expression the very picture of infatuation.
❛ hey, watch it—— ! ❜ he hisses without forethought, frown darkening his features whilst saint daintily breathes an apology. it melts into annoyance, wondering why he opted to stroll through the halls so casually today instead of taking secret passages like he usually does. a sigh acts as a testimony of his foul mood. ❛ ezekiel’s . . . ? ❜ he trails off, not bothering to finish his speculation. she glows when tasting his name; there are no subtleties as to what they mean to each other. him and the general were acquainted and though they have no bond of their own, leaving her here would be an insult. shoulders animate into a half - hearted shrug, chin tilting some as he motions her to follow him. ❛ i’ve heard the general is absent and should only return by sunset, though. ❜
gloved fingers would pick a flask filled with brimming crimson, holding it for silver eyes to study before replacing it. his boots shuffle slowly ‘pon the wooden floor, browsing for something he isn’t even looking for. to say that he is disinterested is a half lie at best; he listens to the marchant with attentive ears. maybe the myriad of goods crowding the dim lighted space work in the witch’s favor after all. the air unmistakably smells of ancient books and death. ( escher is intimate with the latter. it follows him close as if his shadow. ) something mystical is at work here and such realization only adds to the eeriness and sense of dread.
he is not curious by nature but the lilt of the woman’s voice when she hushes her tales as if magic spells gnaws at his interest. there is always the unspoken, and he fathoms with certainty that she has a hoard of obscure secrets, mirroring this place. without pause, he fumbles through the objects, as if a child looking for what could entertain him best.
❛ i have to admit that it’s all pretty intriguing—— ❜ ( he picks some sort of golden trinket, examining it for a mere second, before tossing it back on the table carelessly—— ) ❛ but i’m still not buying anything you’re saying. ❜ / @necrosin!
me: *gets a bad idea*
me: great idea
