Cosimo Galluzzi
⁂
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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taylor price
One Nice Bug Per Day
tannertan36
🪼
cherry valley forever
YOU ARE THE REASON
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Keni
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Xuebing Du
blake kathryn
if i look back, i am lost
pixel skylines
Mike Driver
ojovivo
KIROKAZE
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@dipleomatic-blog
;;♚: @ukiteki liked for a WC starter
quoted: Hawkfrost
“Don’t worry, I’m not one of those men who thinks those from different clans shouldn’t have anything to do with each other.” Well, some division is necessary. “But I saw what happened with Koeda...It’s tough to have loyalties divided, but we all have friends in other clans and villages now,and yet we have to act as though being rivals is all that matters.”
;;♚: @eniigmattic Liked For A WC Starter
Quoted: Tigerstar
“If mercy is power,” .... “then I’ve never been more powerful.”
;;♚: Like This For A Starterᴵᵗ'ᶫᶫ ᴮᵉ ᴬ ᵂᵃʳʳᶦᵒʳ ᶜᵃᵗˢ ᑫᵘᵒᵗᵉ
Blood will spill blood, He dreams of this. A torrent of crimson spilled from a throat parted by steel, parted like petals of a wildflower with ease. A flood of crimson, washing over him, cleansing him, and washing away every cry of what a useless lion he was. This is what his dreams are made of. Blood will spill blood, And every time it is a brother torn asunder by brother. So he has convinced himself, he has found his blade in the neck of the treacherous moggie sibling of his. It was his brother’s blood that dappled his cheeks when the soft flesh of the throat before him is split open. It would be his brother who gasped their last breath, with the weight of his heel on his chest, and chilled blue eyes watched with an unwavering calm. Yes, blood will spill blood. Tonight, in his dreams once more. Blood will spill blood, It’s how it was each night, and it isn’t a dream he cowers from. A flash of gleaming metal would bury itself like a fang in their neck, and that soothing crimson spray would shower him. Like an unyielding but welcome tide, it’d flow from their throat, a rising current about his feet. The daze of a kill tonight would fade in this dream, as blood cleansed him every word that haunted him. Blood will spill blood, The words echo in the red-stained world of his dream, and when his blue gaze sweeps down to view the jaguar under heel, struggling for breath and choking on their own last threads of life...it is no jaguar he sees. But a lioness, staring wide eyed up at her wretched, vexed son. He suspects horror will sink its claws into his mind, to drag him away from the calm he had known when the blood spilled was that of his moggie sibling. But now, staring down at his mother, as she sputters and coughs, clawing at her open throat, attempting to pry out a few last venomous words…he only feels it grow, that placid feeling, his heart and mind alike at ease.
Blood will spill blood, He dreams of this. A torrent of crimson spilled from a throat parted by steel, parted like petals of a wildflower with ease. A flood of crimson, washing over him, cleansing him, and washing away every cry of what a useless lion he was. This is what his dreams are made of. Blood will spill blood, And every time it is a brother torn asunder by brother. So he has convinced himself, he has found his blade in the neck of the treacherous moggie sibling of his. It was his brother’s blood that dappled his cheeks when the soft flesh of the throat before him is split open. It would be his brother who gasped their last breath, with the weight of his heel on his chest, and chilled blue eyes watched with an unwavering calm. Yes, blood will spill blood. Tonight, in his dreams once more. Blood will spill blood, It’s how it was each night, and it isn’t a dream he cowers from. A flash of gleaming metal would bury itself like a fang in their neck, and that soothing crimson spray would shower him. Like an unyielding but welcome tide, it’d flow from their throat, a rising current about his feet. The daze of a kill tonight would fade in this dream, as blood cleansed him every word that haunted him. Blood will spill blood, The words echo in the red-stained world of his dream, and when his blue gaze sweeps down to view the jaguar under heel, struggling for breath and choking on their own last threads of life...it is no jaguar he sees. But a lioness, staring wide eyed up at her wretched, vexed son. He suspects horror will sink its claws into his mind, to drag him away from the calm he had known when the blood spilled was that of his moggie sibling. But now, staring down at his mother, as she sputters and coughs, clawing at her open throat, attempting to pry out a few last venomous words...he only feels it grow, that placid feeling, his heart and mind alike at ease.
send me questions you have about my character!
anything and everything. favorites. thoughts on people, on events. what they would do in a certain situation. how things would be different if something had/hadn’t happened. simple questions, complex questions. have at it!
To truly delight in the touch of another is a rare thing. Or rather, a more accurate statement would be that his lioness, Mizuna Namikaze, and all her her flawed perfection was the first to capture his attentions in such a fashion. The first woman who he finds himself greedily seeking more of in each moment they share, for as fleeting as these moments are, there is no such thing as enough of her touch. When he is away, he is starving for the feeling of her soft lips against his own, and the grace of her fingertips across tracing his jaw, the calm of eyes that painted a million lies. A million lies, and his very own truth. When after weeks he had been without this woman in his arms, without her touch, without the tantalizing scent of her perfume--so long without her, when he finally holds her once more in his arms, he wishes nothing less than to devour her. For each to claim the other as their own, to brand that truth onto one another’s skin, and find their honesty on tongues that so often wove lies like silk. The bite of her nails down his back, leaving painful ribbons of red in their wake was entrancing to him now, as was the way she arched under him when his teeth found her shoulder, welling liquid rubies from such perfect skin. Each would be marked in a trinity of reds, blues, and purple. Where tooth and nail lovingly sank into flesh, and fingers gripped tight enough to bruise, not wanting to risk the other leaving once more too soon. To leave such marks, so even when so soon the lion must leave his lioness, the proof that what they had was true would be worn on the flesh for days to come. But such vicious passions between the pair, fades to a softer touch when both are left breathless. Mizuna’s lips upturned in a playful smirk as her delicately lethal fingers trace gentle circles between Takami’s shoulders. Takami’s own fingers brush softly along her rubs and chest before they find themselves carding through silk-like golden strands. Her voice graces the air with a comment that causes the diplomat’s cheeks to heat, and his chest to rumble with a soft laugh, his forehead rested briefly against her own. Of course, this woman had his heart in his hands, and just so he knew that he held hers. For this, each could ruin the other. But for all their savagery, and all they were, they did not. It would be another lie to say they found humanity within themselves in the presence of the other. But they found something, something which allowed themselves to lay here with honest smiles, and affections that were perhaps the only truths either had known in years.
|| @affectatiions ||
This is a fucking not correct.
@ukiteki
“I don’t want anymore shinki! You’re all I need, Kazuma!”
RP starters: Miscellaneous angst
content warning: suicidal thoughts.
“I should’t have left you.”
“I’m here for you.”
“I’ll kill that son of a bitch who did this to you.”
“Please let me help you.”
“Oh my god, are you okay?”
“Don’t you dare to leave me, not now.”
“You didn’t deserve any of this.”
“Please tell me this is a nightmare.”
“Shh, it’s okay.. you’re safe now.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I can’t believe I did this to you.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
“I don’t want you to die.”
“Talk to me.”
“I fucked up, alright? I’m sorry.”
“Where were you? I was so worried!”
“Stop saying you’re fine when you’re obviously not.”
“Seeing you like this hurts me.”
“I don’t want to live anymore.”
“Can you please just.. go away?”
“I’m worthless.”
“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m going to die.”
“It’s nothing, I swear.”
“I don’t want to talk about it so just drop it.”
“Please don’t leave me alone.”
“Nobody would care if I’d just.. disappear.”
Eyes light up when Yori was set onto the counter. There was a smile dancing on his lips when he notices the collection of cooking utensils on the counter. He had never thought that Takami would figure out Yori’s love for cooking. But it was hard to keep things from the piercing eyes of his lover. The right leg moves side to side when Yori watches Takami try to get everything together. There was a certain order to cooking that made it relaxing to Yori.
Instructions were clear and Yori felt a bit of pride surge through his chest when he was the one to give the instructions. He did not think of himself above Takami, but it was hard not to think that he was below the other. Yori did not get the chance to leave the house and see the world like Taka. There was the part of him that wondered why Takami spent the time with him. But he would never bring that part out to the light of day. Afraid that there might be a moment of honesty. Shattering the illusion that brought him so much peace. Lies were a truth with Takami. But honesty was something that Yori never wanted to see. Honesty was all that Yori had and the lies brought back the game to a life.
Fingers grip the countertop tightly when Takami walks over. The right-hand reaches up to run down the other’s face. There was a bit of something on Takami’s face that made the smile playful. But the hand did not move quickly enough. The other takes a step away before the skin could brush the powder off of the others cheek. The hand catches the corner of the frames and cause them to fall to the ground.
The sound of the glass hitting the ground break the silence in the room. There wasn’t a need to speak when Takami was around. Watching was enough. There were words in his movements. His touch was a sonnet that touched every nerve in Yori’s body and made them feel. Yori could swear that he felt something in his left leg when Takami’s fingers ran over the skin.
“Ne, Taka. They should be just-”
The statement was broken by a small laugh when the sound of the glasses being kicked across the floor echoed around the room. Yori no longer had any idea where the frames were and the look on his lover’s face was too priceless.
“Want me to get my father to find them for you?”
He asks still laughing at the look of horror on Takami’s face. It was nice to see him be so expressive.
( @dipleomatic )
;;♚: @affectatiions starterʰᵉᶫᶫᵃ ᶫᵃᵗᵉ
“It’s almost frightening, how much they’ve grown when I’m not here,” There’s a pang of almost regret in the man’s tone as he makes this observation. His hand extended to the lion cub in question, lips twitching up with the young cat’s nose brushed against his fingertips. How funny to miss lions, perhaps it was because they were Mizuna’s that they brought such a smile to his face. More over, he missed the woman who had captured his interest so easily and so permanently it seemed. A beat, and he turns his gaze to her with a smile that grows more playful than when it had been set on the cubs. “As much as they’re growing in size, it seems like you’re growing in beauty, Mizuna.”
“If we believe in nothing, if nothing has any meaning and if we can affirm no values whatsoever, then everything is possible and nothing has any importance.”
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PENNED BY BRYN
❛ would you rather hear a beautiful lie —— or an ugly truth? ❜
