seen from Italy
seen from South Korea
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Spain
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Spain
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Thailand
seen from Malaysia
❛ they always trust me to be someone who i don’t even want to be. ❜
“And if you’re not who they wish you to be, god help you when they find out.”
That quote hit a little close to home for him. Though it was quite strange coming from Chizuru. He always deemed her more of the type to be open about things, but perhaps he was mislead?
“Is there...anything bothering you?”
"You think he's finally dead now?"
“I dunno...”
This guy, huh? The bigger ones are always the hardest to take down... That’s still no excuse for someone to live for five days after becoming a personal vampire buffet. They’d set their sights at a lofty goal - a bouncer at a nightclub the next city over - and though it was difficult to come up with a plan that would lure the guy away from his post, it had been worth it.
Still--- they’ve milked him for practically every bit of blood in his body, at this point. Tatsumi crouches by the still form and pokes the man’s waxy cheek methodically. No reaction. The same happens when he raises his fist and brings it down hard on the man’s shoulder.
The room goes eerily silent as Tatsumi strains his ears for the sound of a heartbeat.
“...I’ll get rid of him.”
[?]
Inside the box is... a flat-screen television!
This is a far cry from whatever he’d been expecting to come home to. They spend time apart-- they can’t possibly spend every waking minute together-- but when he gets back, there’s not usually anything out of sorts. There’s never any big boxes sitting in the middle of the living room; Chizuru doesn’t usually look so pleased with herself. The cat who caught the canary is the face she wears, and he doesn’t know whether to brace himself or relax as he finally opens the damn thing.
There’s a minute or two where he doesn’t speak, and then he does.
Very carefully.
“...Chi-chan. Where did you get this?”
@vampirespreferblondes // continued from this.
Tsuruo was sure something to look at, even in the morning--- something breathtaking. It amazed her how perfect his marble skin was, how pale and delicate he looked against the red of their sheets. Was he a statue come to life? A masterpiece? But as lovely as he was when his shiny eyelids were closed, she liked it a whole lot better when he spoke back.
He made it hard to wonder why sometimes. He could go from being cute to charming in an instant, make her heart slow fondly and speed up; he enchanted her to his whims. When he gazed at Tatsumi endearingly, the young jinrou woman scooted closer to him and planted a soft kiss on his jaw. It was... bizarre, for someone with so many sharp edges and thorns.
“I missed you, that’s all. Mad at me?”
I want the K~!
39: Sleepy Kiss
There’s something charming about how persistent she is. Charming, and kind of annoying.
The bed they share is a mess with deep and dark red satin sheets (the color chosen for utility as well as aesthetics) rumpled. Chizuru woke up before he did, he knows--- but can’t he sleep just a little longer? He dozes while listening to the patter of her footsteps as she goes to seek out entertainment somewhere in their home, and before he knows it, she’s right next to him. Her face is mere inches from him, and he when he mumbles out a complaint the expected whine comes floating through in reply. But, Tatsumiiiiii~n to his five more minutes -- she’s impatient, isn’t she? A golden eye cracks open to gaze listlessly at her expectant cat-like eyes. It’s hard to be mad at her with a face like that, seriously... He moves in closer and presses a sleepy kiss to her lips.
His the only heart that beats in the room. It’s hard to forget that she’s dead sometimes.
“No buts. I need my beauty sleep too, you know? Or else-- I’ll turn into an old geezer...”
One of her long golden curls is laying between them, vibrant from care now that he’s killed and stolen enough to get them both nice things. When he picks it up and twirls it between his fingers, his expression turns slightly morose; the action is slightly thoughtful.
“You probably wouldn’t give me a second glance then, huh.”
❝ I must say -- you are beautiful, Kirishiki Chizuru. And of course, you can call me either Bast or Bastet. How do you like more. And fu-fu, no, I am not from the village. You can call me a GUEST. ❞
vampirespreferblondes
rough touch
8. My muse grips your muse’s hips.
You know… It’s surprising how many times he’s let Chizuru get away with being a tease.
Coy comments and flirtatious remarks aren’t really anything out of the ordinary; still, when she tries to just walk away from Tatsumi after the fact, the one thing that is out of the ordinary is how he reacts. He catches her by the hips and pulls her flush to his body, keeping his hold there in case she tries to slip away from him.
“Just where do you think you’re going…?”
2
My muse is given a chance to go back in time and re-do one single event.
Not everyone is gifted with the blessing of foresight.
Is he awake? Is this a dream? ...You know, there have been a lot of nights where he wonders that. He doesn’t bother to sleep unless he lacks anything better to do, but when he does, he dreams in terrifying detail. Lucidity during a dream is a talent that many admire, but it’s far from admirable when your memories become an amalgamate of the things you hate the most. A private hell, a video reel just showing the dark parts of your past. Things you wish you’d done. Things you wish you could do over.
He finds himself on the doorstep of the Koide residence.
He knows what will happen next. The door will open, and Natsuno’s father-- that stupid, bumbling, worthless lunatic-- will stab him with a knife. He’ll twirl it and discard it before politely asking if he can enter, even though shiki have already been invited into this house. He’ll try strongarming some sense into Natsuno, and eventually leave, giving him the perfect opportunity to flee like a coward. Natsuno will go to Toshio. Natsuno will ruin everything.
Once upon a time, Tatsumi might have said that the plan failing would be fun, too. The problem with that is... It would only be fun if he wouldn’t be around for the aftermath. He was fine with a conclusion where they all died. Now that he’s standing in the tepid morning air, thinking about what will happen next, ...he’s certain of one thing.
Even if it still fails, he’s not going to let Natsuno Yuuki be the one to foil them.
He follows through. Up until he steps into the house, he lets everything go as it did years ago. Nostalgic, disgusting as it is-- and the feeling only grows once he sees that moody face. It’s a delicate balancing act to try and keep his grip on the knife nice and loose, casual. He’s just holding it, not wielding it. Fluid motions. They walk further into the house, away from Natsuno’s father, until those hideous bubble chairs are within sight.
Tatsumi doesn’t let Natsuno sit down. He grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around, plunging the knife as far as it’ll go in one deft strike. He can feel the crack, but his body is burning with a vicious rage and everything else but Natsuno’s face leaves his awareness.
You don’t know anything. Four words burned into his mind, each punctuated with a brutal stab to the chest. The amount of blood soaking himself and Natsuno’s shirt by now tells him that he probably hit the heart, and the boy’s sudden limpness only lends to the thought. Still, even though it’s overkill, he keeps stabbing until his rage is exhausted.
Only then does Natsuno’s father enter the room to witness the scene, and he shrieks. Tatsumi’s eyes burn as he lunges for the man next.
Nobody said there had to be responsibility to fall from Tatsumi’s favor, after all. Just dislike.
