#silencedwaltz

[ragecarnate-blog]

silencedwaltz liked your post “Youpi rocks the tight skinny jeans.  also starter call for later. ”

A moment of serious overcomes Youpi, his instinct telling him, this girl is one of him. But at the same time... he feels a different sort of feeling then the normal weaklings. 

But then again, everyone else is dead. And so Youpi the monster is left alone. Directionless. 

 “Who, are you.”

[grimalkill-blog]

ριтσυ иуα'∂ αт: @silencedwaltz

there’d been a strange feeling pulling at them since they had awoken at the base of that tree. well, strange wasn’t perhaps the best descriptor: this feeling was all pitou had known in their recent memory, after all. only their name remained, and the knowledge that they bled a navy blue, different from the humans they had hunted for some time.

the feeling was akin to hunger, but it hadn’t been sated, no matter how much they ate. so they left to wander, able to cover miles with ease. that was it, they thought. they were looking for something.

they stopped to converse with humans, on occasion. that scratched an itch they couldn’t quite name, even though they were inferior species, delicate and prone to breaking. they were fun to play with. pitou made a name for themselves in this particular city, rumors swirling of the strange cat-like creature that walked on two legs and enjoyed toying with its victims.

even this didn’t fill the void. now pitou was given to quiet contemplation, perched atop the highest building they could find, legs swinging aimlessly in the darkness below them. they pushed their en out, enclosing the city, feeling the life forces of its citizens.

they knew sorrow. they knew it well. but this strange wracking of their chest that they got when they felt these lowly humans, all living and breathing as one within their ecosystem of concrete towers and metal monsters... they couldn’t explain it.

and then they found it-- a signature, an aura just like theirs. and pitou knew that that same person had felt theirs as well.

they pushed themselves off the edge of the roof, falling a solid forty stories and landing on all fours, road crunching beneath their paws.

[grimalkill-blog]

"You better be behaving yourself."

“….i am completely innyacent.”

their tail is lashing behind their back.

[grimalkill-blog]

pítσu ís dєlívєríng α prєsєnt tσ @silencedwaltz!

it’s customary to leave presents for companions on this day. or so pitou has come to understand, through consumption of media and vague understanding of tradition. this “santa” figure, who does not exist, is said to come through the chimney. if this is celebrated, why should they not do the same?

pitou doesn’t fully understanding this urge themself. to give, without any desire to receive... it makes little sense. but the thought grew and grew as the day came nearer, and they eventually gave up on fighting it off.

to deny that they care for this person would be to deny a part of themself. how incredibly obnoxious. they set to work on making a gift, having little money of their own, and it was their understanding that kite would rather not receive a gift that had been stolen.

so it was that the young chimera ant would awaken the next morning to a wrapped box in the center of the floor. there’s a note, written to barely be legible, pitou’s handwriting more chickenscratch than anything.

to: kite

stay warm.

inside the box is something that may seem quite strange at first. the red yarn is crafted carefully, but it’s not a scarf or mittens or anything like it. in fact, it’s... a tail cozy, for kite’s tail, so that it won’t grow cold during the winter months. an odd gift, but a thoughtful one, particularly for the feline.

[ddragonhead-blog]

silencedwaltz liked your post “mmm starter call. ”

 “Its not everyday someone willingly seeks me out.    Especially hunters of your caliber.” 

Of course it would be a big mess if a fight broke out, but thats why their in a civlian area. Or Zeno was just in the most expensive chinese restaurant in the city and having himself some nice siopao and pecking duck. With a slide of many things. 

 “I’m in a good mood, so ask your question , quickly.”

[mediknight]

❝ Any man can get knocked down. The hero is the man who gets back up. ❞

galavant starters // accepting // @silencedwaltz

“Then I must be a goddamn legend.” Leorio spat blood onto the grass and wiped a shaking hand over his lips. He didn’t want to get up again, his body begging for rest. He knew that as soon as he rose and regained his bearings, Kite would surge forward again with those long limbs and pummel him.

Leorio wasn’t weak, and he wasn’t a terrible fighter. But his endurance faltered, and the gap in experience was substantial enough to render Leorio a perpetual loser against Kite. His body felt like a bruise.

He leaned forward and pressed his palms into the dirt for balance. Steadily, he pushed himself up, fighting off the surge of vertigo that threatened to topple him. Once he stood, he settled into a defensive stance, fists near his face and joints loose. Blood trickled down over his temple, but he didn’t bother smearing it away.

With a brisk nod, he signaled he was ready. “Hope you’re keeping track,” he said, grinding his heels as anchors into the earth. “I’m about to break some heroic records.”

[mermaidenn-blog1]

"I don't know what to tell you." //hello!

x.

Finding someone like her. Not fully human nor fully ant. With quite an antropomorphic aspect, yet with singularities that evidenced the horrors they’ve gone through. A throbbing pain started spreading all over the woman’s chest, making it even difficult to breath, making the scarred tissue feel tight, and the eyes wet. “How much... do you remember?”

[mediknight]

3. Kiss on the shoulder (I feel like that's the most awkward option so)

kiss my muse // accepting // @silencedwaltz

3 kiss on the shoulder

It must be some bestial technique, used to soothe raging animals. avoid the teeth, that gaping maw, the brandished claws and whipping tail, dive forth and make your scent known, like some pheromone for peace.

Leorio notes Kite’s proximity, how his hair lifts in his wake like web or wave, and sucks in air through his gnashing teeth, recoiling just enough to straighten. Kite hits his mark with ease anyway, planting that gentle, war-ending kiss to the bared skin and torn cloth at Leorio’s shoulder.

Unwittingly, Leorio lowers his fists, feels the tension ease from them until they hang, limp, at his hips. He inhales fully, lets the oxygen clear his head, and he nods, uncertain and uncaring of whether Kite sees.

“Right, right,” he says, sneering at the men who stand before them. A lowly group of thieves who hunt easy prey in the night. It is fortunate that Leorio had not carried much cash with him on their stroll, and he is fortunate Kite is there to hold him back. “They’re not worth our time. Let’s go.”

How quickly his blood settles; Kite certainly has a way with beasts.