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@knifefites-blog
heyo nerds been a while. tumblr wasn’t letting me log in for the longest time, saying i had the incorrect email - but it finally let me in!!
i just wanted to hop on and say i MIGHT revamp this blog and get it active again, but until you can find me on my new main blog: KUSAKABE HIKARU.
i want to kinkshame melvi
A slender hand, more bone than flesh, is proffered with fingers elegantly outstretched. Their mirrors rest upon the ruffled breast of his uniform, o’er a hollow cage that once held a heart fluttering with life and passion — but no longer. He is silent in the otherwise empty studio, only he and the other, who seems to be lost, occupying the space. It is almost as though he is asking him to dance.
The entire atmosphere of this school was more than a bit odd, for Firo - the whole town felt odd, in it’s own way, but the school in particular was... unnerving, perhaps? Firo had never properly gone to school, himself. His birth parents had been poor so he’d done chores and side work for neighbors to bring in more money. When they died, he was swiftly brought in by the Martillos and they took well enough care of him without school. There were plenty of tutors all around him, in the family. Ronnie, who seemed to know everything, and men from all over the world - if he was ever curious enough to learn something, he only had to ask.
Because of this, Firo attempts to pass off his concerns as him simply not being used to a school environment. It’s a bit of a stretch, but he isn’t here to poke his nose into... whatever’s going on here. He’s just looking for someone.
“I’m sorry, I’m- I’m not here to dance, I’m afraid! But do you think you could help me?”
A vicious appetite, visits me each night. And won’t be satisfied, I won’t be denied.
depeche mode lyrics - sentence memes | accepting
“What do you even mean by that?”
The words themselves are all but lost on Firo - the meanings and implications behind them even more so. He’s READING - and his attentions can be devoted to only one thing at a time, lest he not truly be paying attention to anything at all. The book in his hands is one he might be thankful to be distracted from. Eyes linger at the passage before him—
I AM CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST: NEVERTHELESS I LIVE; YET NOT I, BUT CHRIST LIVETH IN ME: AND THE LIFE WHICH I NOW LIVE IN THE FLESH I LIVE BY THE FAITH OF THE SON OF GOD, WHO LOVED ME, AND GAVE HIMSELF FOR ME.
—for only a moment longer before sighing, his gaze flitting up to land instead on the priest. Various descriptors could be used for the look in the boy’s eyes. Annoyance. Irritation. Distaste. Disgust. Pull out a thesaurus - there are certainly more, all of them likely suitable in their own ways.
“—scratch that. I don’t want to know. I could live forever and never want to understand what you mean by half the things that come out of your mouth, you old freak.”
❛i see now it’s not your work ethic we need to work on, child. oh no it’s your spiritual self that needs to heal.❜ a smile low and devious spread as he continued to gaze up towards the glorified torture of their lord and savior. it was now so very clear to him what he could use in order to break the boy. until young firo could be reborn in his own image. how wonderful; a new pet project.
❛while you will still be responsible for the physical upkeep of the church i will also need to plan for a more metaphysical aspect of your training. unfortunately for you this will be physically as well as emotionally taxing.❜ and finally the godless priest turned to gaze down at his new charge, eyes alight with hellfire itself, such a hungry eagerness he had burning inside. ❛go kneel before the lord, front row.❜ despite the quiet tone his words were tainted, wicked. gleeful almost. ❛i will etch the words he has given us into your very bones if need be. your rebirth begins ..NOW.❜
He’d known the words would not be well received even before they had left his lips; any other person would have had the self-restraint necessary to hold them in, to keep them at bay for at least a short time longer, but Firo’s internal filter is a patchwork mess with holes in ever-changing sizes. To keep something in when it is something he truly believes must be said is nigh impossible, whether he likes it or not. It is simply how he has always been - his birth parents, some of what he remembers most of them is them grounding him for some of the things he would say. The Martillos were far kinder about it.
Firo’s mind does not yet fully realize the ramifications of what he has said. It isn’t until the priest turns to him that finally honey-hues widen. The same fiery, angry hues that bleed in through the stained glass before them seem present in the man’s eyes. A step back is taken, unconscious, on instinct, his limbs understanding the danger before it’s presence is fully conscious to his mind.
“You’re kidding. You can’t--- What’s with your face right now, old man? You’ve got to be kidding me, right now!” He isn’t- He’s going to try and- “You won’t make a damn CONVERT out of me, you know! I’ll find somewhere else to stay---”
❝ There’s a lot that you don’t know about me. ❞ A taunting tone touched his voice as passers-by stared a moment too long at the well-dressed pair, most likely assuming that they were father and son, and admiring it. Czeslaw paid them no mind. He was far more interested in the prospect which he’d proposed. ❝ Besides, who doesn’t like chocolate? ❞
“Lots of people these days like to pretend you lose your sweet tooth as you grow up, I think.” Not many of his friends, per se - not Isaac, not Miria, not even many of his own family, but there is an overriding thought among the adult population that anything children enjoy cannot also be enjoyed by adults. Firo’s never quite bought the idea. “Should we get something for Ennis as well? I wonder what she’d like.”
“I don’t care if you don’t like it, you’re mine to do what I please.” ..i'm so sorry.
possessive starters! | accepting
“….”
Firo frowns, patting his back pockets, his front pockets, his jacket pockets, all before realizing he has made a horrific mistake. Looking up from where he was seated, Firo’s eyes scanned the tabletop - where he last recalls placing an item of moderate importance to himself, especially now. His eyes widen at the realization and he stands in shock, his chair toppling over behind him and clattering loudly against the floor.
“You TOOK my phone?” He’d left it sit idly on the table, unattended while he grabbed his plate for dinner… “What the HELL are you playing at, old man? Give it BACK!”
“If we wait until we’re ready, we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.”
❝A Series Of Unfortunate Events❞ Sentence Meme | accepting
“I think I might understand how some of those ladies you went for felt,” he admits, eyeing Claire nervously. “I’m sorry for being scared, but I am. I’ve never - I’ve never been in a relationship! Even with a girl! We’ve- We’ve got very long lives, Claire - I… I.. is is bad of me to want to.. wait… a little longer? I l-.. I like you, you’re- one of the most important people to me, but- but you’re moving too fast. You’re way too confident and experienced for me to just say yes and not be nervous about it.”
“Accidents happen all the time.”
❝A Series Of Unfortunate Events❞ Sentence Meme | accepting
“Even within these walls? Under your careful watch? It is difficult to believe that you could allow many mistakes, Father.”
❛the church itself is modest but the grounds surrounding it is expansive. you will help with the upkeep of that as well.❜ opening a small set of double wooden doors to the entryway of the innards of said church he stepped inside. there was no gold decor, no plush cushions for each pew. no velvet lined drapery. it was a simple altar and the only color stemmed from errant sunlight relfecting off of the perfectly etched stained glass windows. each depicting a time in christs’ life where he was suffering.
they were quite resplendent, the images of horror and agony, the face of their lord god twisted and deformed by the thorn of crowns. by each biting lash of the whip. and there he stood beneath the light of said scene, a smile playing across his lips as he paused for a moment. silent. ❛you do not care to join this church, do you boy.❜ it wasn’t a question, the false priest was no fool and he had noticed the disgusted look the lad wore.
Firo’s gaze wanders idly as they make their way from the hall into the main room of the church. Words such as scant and meager come to mind, light-brown hues drifting over plain wooden everything before finally finding themselves forced to focus on the deep shades of red that poured into the room. Even in the fading evening light, those windows appear, to Firo, to set the room aflame. It does nothing to put his mind at ease.
“It isn’t at the top of my to-do list.” Or the bottom of it, for that matter. Finding religion isn’t even scribbled within the margins of his metaphorical to-do list. There’s no use lying about it, not when it’s already been made obvious. The worst case scenario, as he sees it, is that he’s kicked out and forced to find somewhere else to room until he returns to the Clocktower. And for a worst-case scenario, that doesn’t sound too bad. “Heap on the chores, I’ll do 'em - but I didn’t come here for Christ.”
"You got a little something.." Claire points at the corner of his own mouth, indicating there is something but then changes his mind and leans closer; his thumb brushes across the corner of Firo's mouth and wipes away the jam smeared across Firo's lips and skin. "Better."
Firo is just about to reach up with a napkin before Claire leans in - he could have cleaned it away himself, certainly, but something about this situation makes him feel as though Claire prefers things this way. Firo stills as it happens, lips half parted as the words he may have said moments prior go unsaid. Honey hues are intent to stare into red ones, but only for a second, before instead following the digit that had so easily invaded Firo’s personal space. There’s no harm in it, no wound done to his form by the touch, by all the same Firo shrinks back a small ways.
“...thanks for that,” he muses, ignoring that he can practically still feel Claire’s fingertip against his skin, despite it having been removed. “I didn’t even notice.”
The careless collision of shoulders was enough to stop the girl in her tracks. Even turn her frame from the path she traveled. She was mute not blind. That was thoughtless and even rash of her. Such a far throw from her usual nimble and cautious traits. Her mind was just captured by something else. A question she wasnt sure how to answer. Her body already turning towards the other, Chane searched for their eyes. Brows knitting with worry. Ready to expression an apology to the best of her ability. Hands already raising in defense.
The eyes she’ll find are honey-hued and wide - a mix of surprise and concern swirling together, covering his features. Admittedly, Firo’s initial reaction is that he’s met with a pickpocket of sorts - it’s very simple to bump into someone and take their wallet without them even realizing. When Firo finds the one who he’d collided with, though, that fear is all but put to bed and his gentler nature takes over.
“Are you alright, ma’am? I didn’t make you drop anything, did I?”
"How is it possible for you to ally yourself with both Claire Stanfield, and Graham?"
“I’m a likable guy?” He offers, sounding only serious enough that someone that barely knows him would believe him. And, while Sickle may be included on the list of people that barely know him, he gets the feeling that she’s decent at getting reads on people, so, in time, he shrugs. “Whatever bad blood they have is between them. I don’t like getting involved in Claire’s issues unless he asks - he isn’t like Luck, you know. Luck tries to pretend he’s some scary guy, but he’s really not, so I try to help him out a bit. Claire on the other hand… he’s usually got things covered. Graham seems about the same way, too.”
there was no questioning of his first ..request and kirei glanced down at his young charge for a moment. impressed despite himself that such a young lad was able to contain whatever dismay he had felt at being told the waking hour was so early. that of course was just the start. however he was not doing so out of spite, in fact father kotomine was rather ambivalent about the entire situation.
❛you will learn to care for this church. you will learn her ways and the ways of our religion in hopes that god shines his everlasting light upon your soul and awaken your believe, my son.❜ there was a brief pause and a brow arched higher. ❛and you will learn how to scrub a bare wooden floor properly. the early hour is to wake before services begin as you will help me prepare, in essence you are the new altar boy. our last one..❜ was currently in the basement, safely locked away where his essence; his life force could be slowly, painfully fed from. ❛..is away. now hurry up, we have much to do today. the stained glass windows will need a shine later on.❜ without waiting for a response, the priest had disappeared from the mouth of the door and began down the hallway, cassock billowing out behind him.
From being a practical card-carrying atheist to being a literal, actual alter boy in five minutes flat - Firo isn’t exactly sure what to make of this development, but he’s sure he won’t grow to love the new position anytime soon. Worse could happen, he keeps reminding himself, but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy about any of this. He’s not one to judge anyone on their beliefs, really. He’s not. But the idea of having them shoved down his throat is so unappealing he could hurl. And that fact likely shows more readily on his face than his dissatisfaction with the waking hour had.
“Scrubbing floors and windows sounds easy enough,” he says, following along behind the priest as he exits the room. Firo supposes he’ll have time to actually put away his things later, before bed. Again, it’s not like he’d brought much to begin with. He continues on, attempting to skirt around all the religion talk in favor of anything else. “How big is this place?”
casually leaves bible.
put an object in my askbox for my muse’s reaction to being given it | accepting
“If you’re asking me to help lead morning prayer, just know this is the first time in my entire life that I’ve touched a bible and I will definitely, 100%, without a doubt, not memorize any of it and will likely make things up on the fly.”
❝So… You know about that, hm? Outsiders should not be involved in something like this.❞
❝He took an artefact from Kayneth El-Melloi in order to prove… something, My existence here is the result of that. Additionally, Waver Velvet is now partaking in something far beyond his comprehension.❞
Iskandar had been worried about Waver for a while. In the end, Waver Velvet was just a boy who wished to be respected.
❝I suppose it might be a bit late for you to turn back, now. Would you follow him even in this war? That mindset brings back memories of someone quite dear to me… What is your name?❞
“Mm.. that explains why El-Melloi was angry the last few days of class, before storming off as well...” Firo had been curious, admittedly. Pieces he hadn’t previously connected are slipping into place now, though - and it only makes him all the more worried.
“He’s important to me. I’d follow him to any stupid place, if he just asked first.” Firo admits, though almost shyly - if the faintest of reds touch his cheeks, he ignores it and pushes on. “If he’s doing something dangerous, I want to be there with him. I may not understand what’s going on, but- If I can’t be there for my friends, then what kind of chump am I?”
“Oh, and - it’s Firo. Firo Prochainezo. I almost forgot that.”
❝ H-huh? Oh…no! No, that’s—that’s not it at all! It’s…it’s just that…well, no one’s ever really called me their friend before. You surprised me…that’s all. ❞
“I’ll buy you lunch. Even if I didn’t upset you... I’ll still buy you lunch! I don’t want you to think I don’t like you... We can go somewhere nice in town tomorrow. Swap notes there for a change...?”
