— i am, unchanging.

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑒𝑎𝑐𝘩 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩, 𝑖 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑔𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦, 𝑔𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑟—  𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛  

[ikiryomiss]

   (  𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗈𝗇, 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗈𝗇, 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅, 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 / 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗇.  ) 

# 𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐈   -  independent, low-activity, headcanon-based  𝙺𝙸𝙺𝚈𝙾  from the anime / manga of the feudal fairytale titled 𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑦𝑎𝑠𝘩𝑎. re-established once again and formerly was under the url ofbellflowers, with mix portrayal of both the anime and manga kept in mind, but overall considered to be canon-divergent. cherished forever by ailli ( she / 25+ )

rules are found in my carrd, but overall know i practice the common rp courtesy, i am duplicate + OC / crossover friendly, non-exclusive with any characters of this fandom, and single shipped w/ kaimettsu. my main priority for kikyo to discover the joys of moving on and finding happiness & discovering meaningful bonds for herself.

BLOG ROLL : asterites ( main ) CREDITS : blockquote icon designed by : ferriscommissions

[ikiryomiss]

i've remade over at ikiryomi ( same url :D )

[ikiryomiss]

i've remade over at ikiryomi ( same url :D )

[ikiryomiss]

likely going to archive and remake this bloggo :)

[greelin]

“i’m not bitter” i say, bitterly, with a bitter expression

[sleepy-edits]

[goreprofonde]

- Luther Hughes, Winter, Extended.

[deathleadsarc-deactivated202603]

@ikiryomi | s.c

―    🜛    ―    scent  of  the  air  tells  the  arrival  of  a  human  most  curious  ―  cradling  deaths  musk  and  demons  pressure,  yet,  a  holy  stench  scrunches  the  nose  and  somehow  muddied  it.  the  djinn  ought  to  have  cautioned  herself  'round  such  persons,  but  she  could  not  help  but  crawl  along  through  the  grass  to  sneak  'pon  the  brightly  garbed  stranger.  Tail  whipping  madly,  ears  facing  forward  to  take  in  each  and  ev'ry  movement.  .  .  was  she  to  pounce?  to  rip  asunder  this  porcelain  flesh?  

the  tiniest  voice  was  begging  her  to  run!

[ikiryomiss]

𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐈𝐋, corpse-doll prefaces the visage of an unheavenly women. indifference bleeding on towards the path of carnage and sins, yet she remains deceptively holy in her acts of salvation. she needn't interfere more than what was necessary, for she existed beyond the threads of living. a ghost bleeding inside this shell, hopelessly wandering alongside the dance of vengeance. although it would have been wise to avoid her, she offers you no threat. instead she merely stares, unbothered by the distinctive features that shapes you inhuman. silence views you no threat, and so she ask : ❝ is there something you wanted to ask ? ❞

[feudalfell-deactivated20231014]

@ikiryomi⠀ ◞ ♡ ⠀﹕ ❪ ⠀❤'d.⠀ ❫

' Kikyou! I finally found you, I was abit worried after the battle with the demons, you were hurt quite badly.'

[ikiryomiss]

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐒𝐄-𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑. the sight of blackened ichor oozes at her crevices, lingering a spider's web —— miasma stains her with hell's triumph. the deplorable miko can only clutch on to life. pathetically owing prayers to her salvation, she seeks out the dead and ebbs them out of existence. how disgraceful the original must have looked towards her reflection. her replacement. bitterness of fractured souls can only ensnare, yet heavenly principles extends itself into desperate truce. it was never you, she was angered with, it was always her predicament. unholy maiden can only vent out a sigh, ❝ those children, what has become of them ...? ❞ she inquires, the truth behind her concern and dedicated weakness, ❝ are they okay ? ❞

[ikiryomiss]

Kikyo can do the miko fan dance —— and that’s all I’m thinking about at 12am.

[theoptia]

Jean-Paul Sartre, from No Exit and Three Other Plays; “The Flies”

Text ID: But I—What am I but an empty shell? Some creature has devoured me, gnawed out my inner self.

[ikiryomiss]

legacyheld​:

❝  aerith  —-  truly  is.  simply  being  around  her  makes  me  happy.  which  is  why  I  vow  to  protect  her  at  all  costs.  I’ll  even  put  my  honor  as  SOLDIER  on  the  line.   ❞

❝  —  i am sure your feelings for her is well-received.  ❞  tender prayers resonates softly on the folds of her lips ; her eyes a glisten towards the rhapsody of your whole-hearted sonnet. a youthful infatuation, how innocent / how pure. she offers you heaven’s blessings through the guise of maiden’s silence.  ❝  but even then a solider should know to put her heart above one’s pride.  protection though selfless, cannot compare to the warmth of companionship.  ❞  words of wisdom is offered alongside an ode towards friendly banter, a polite smile unfolds and she remains ever courteous to one’s enthusiasm. may the two of you not know the tragedy of first love, may the two of you overcome. yes, this is her prayers towards you.

[ikiryomiss]

alilwicked​:

            His  ears  perked  in  surprise  at  her  words.  Sad  ?  Was  he  really  that  obvious  ?  He  could  feel  the  swirl  of  guilt  building  up  in  his  chest,  his  fist  clenching  beneath  his  sleeve.  ‘  T-That’s  not  .  .  .  ’  his  gaze  holding  such  confliction,  perhaps  there  was  sadness.  Grief  of  the  woman  he  lost,  the  woman  he  loved  .  .  .  so  many  things  he  had  yet  to  say.  

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄.   a single moment in passing completely undone and overshadowed by the hatred of a single minute. vengeance was what reaped the harvest of her spirit, and it through this imitation bones that she serves as a reminder of your haunted silence. we are doomed to cause each other grief, t’was a fact they had understood many long moons ago. the dead cannot rejoin the living, nor did she desire his premature end. it is time to move on, to let go of the sadness which plagues the soul. stillness imitates your hesitation, and even now she displays a saintly understanding. movements are relaxed, and though she can no longer breathe life  ——  she sighs.   ❝  it is okay, i know.  ❞  soft aria is spoken with her compassion,  ❝  there is a lot to say, isn’t there. but alas, our time has always been rather limited.  ❞

[ikiryomiss]

​❝ stop staring at me like that. ❞

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. irony slits itself with a manifestation of echoes. time's equinox defying that of nature, it make-shifts and it slithers —— like a ripple transmitted across the tides. ( you : who overcame time / she : who conquered death, we share the same exceptional soul that was never fated to fracture / never fated meet. ) the pools of your mahogany gaze is reflected to that of her own : neatly guarded, unsure, the complete opposite of the elder one's refined composure. their relationship doomed to remain unnatural, until stubborn fingers finally extends itself onto the other with whole-hearted acceptance. in another time : bell-flora would rather rot then give way. her vehement poison sharpening that of her icy exterior, to the point that she wishes to sunder these lands into nothing but the barren waste. deny the world, the way the world has denied her. vengeance remained but a second nature sown onto the clay remains of her ash. her heart is soiled with despair, faithfully knowing that it will all come to an end.

she had been bitter then, she can acknowledge that now. but alas, pride was the only thing left she can hold onto... the only thing that she wants encased with veneer inside these false ribs. give life to it, because this is all she has left in this lonely world. she has become too pitiful, too broken, especially in comparison to the sun that afflicts itself in your warmth. kagome you are too spectacular, a fact she chooses to omit. in her place, you have healed and embolden the wounds she had tragically left behind. in the heart of her sister, it was you who gave her companionship —— you who have chosen to remain in this path, that she once paved. she did not resent you, but she wanted too. indeed, just as you have once unveiled her tragedy / she has seen through your joy. the happiness of your birth, the trials you have endured, and in spite of all the hardship : you shined.

you have not grown to surpass her, but you will. someday, you will. in your own pace, at your own path. she was rather envious, but perhaps not as bitter. so instead, she chooses to reflect and accept. just as you have made your own mark in this fairy tale, it was only right that she should find her own. even if it means facing the absolute end. ❝ if you are trying to create medicine, there is an easier way to grind them. ❞ generous wisdom is left on her lips, where she finally extends herself to her reflection —— nay, to you. ❝ i find that the bitterness left behind by that tactic makes children more susceptible to its bitterness. removing the seeds will improve the taste rather mildly, with honey and milk making it much more palatable. ❞ // @greenskirt

[hopewritten-deactivated20231105]

@ikiryomi​

“Can you do my hair like yours? Please?” 

Though slightly unsure of where her inquiry will go , there’s no hiding that hopeful glimmer in her eyes. 

[ikiryomiss]

𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄. such gentleness manifest warmth inside the wretchedness of clay bones. your tender need of attention latching onto her, like a newborn fowl, chirping with fragile curiosity / sweet child's request is made known. the miko's facade brightens softly in exchange. always eager to please and to inspire, her fondness towards youth remains forever true. life breathes more life, dutifully hiding away the most pungent of rot. but she can sense death inside of you, the same way it existed inside of her. ( what sort of pain have you known, dear child ) divine corpse dares not to voice her intuition choosing instead to hold her reservation. smiling fondly, she pulls apart the ivory fabric that rested in ebony's strands and allows it to fall. her hair comes undone and she gestures you to come forward. ❝ — of course, but your hair is already so adorable. ❞ defiled fingers tugs at your signature accessory, before setting it down to brush the entirety of your look. ❝ you know ... once upon a time, i also used to do this to my kid sister. she had such lovely hair, just like yours. ❞

[sleepy-edits]

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“What is a ghost? A tragedy condemned to repeat itself time and again? A moment of pain, perhaps. Something dead which still seems to be alive. An emotion suspended in time.””

— Guillermo del Toro, from the screenplay The Devil’s Backbone (Anhelo Producciones, 2001)