las noches.
ii.
beseech.
iii.
gift.
iv.
once.
v.
theme

omniicide:

cuarrto

I smell you.
          I know you’re here.
                    Come out.
                              I͜҉҉͏’̵̕͞m͢͢͠͞ ͡h̴̷͢͡ư̢͢͞n̶͘͢g͢r̢̡͜y̶̛͝.̷̨̡

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Is he supposed to be here? No. What is stopping him though- certainly not the King. No one was here to stop him, sandals kicking up sand and hiding the blood of those who had gotten in his way. His tongue is purple from all the blood, the blue pigment buried in his muscles tainted with the weakness; he’s starving. Massacre feels good, it fills his lung with fluid and rots his flesh off his bones; he’s pretty into it. He’s more into tracking down a familiar scent though, c̕͝͝o̡͡m̴̕è̶̸̶ ̶̕ơ̸̧ų̨͟͡ţ ̸̨̀͜͝c͘͝҉̵͠o̷͜͟͞͠m̴͜ę ̷͘ơ̴̧͢͞ư̢̕͟t̵̢̢̀̀ ̵̧̨͏̵ẁ҉̵h̛̀e̵̢̕͜͠r͏́e̴̛҉̨v̢̕͘͜͡è̷̶̕ŗ̴͡҉̨ ̷͜ỳ̴͝o͏̨͢u̶̧̢͘ ̸̧á̴͢҉̡ŕ҉͡e̡; it shouldn’t be here. He’s pretty patient though, pausing and pushing at his face. His head tilts unbearably, his neck threatens to snap, and the crack of released tension masks the clack of chattering, giggling teeth.

Look who got thrown out’f HELL."

image

  ethereal screams of
     a certain viscous poison extends past
     its floodgates in eagerness to alert the
     beacon of light and desert justice of
     impending threats, as though he did
     not already sense such evils dwelling
     within his acreage. to ask what enhanced
     enchanted knowledge feels like would
     be a thing of those unworthy of its ability
    — the chill of pesquisa flitting over twisted
     steel wire skin to burrow itself within the
     whiplash cords of a spine concave, the
     precise bearings and magnitude of all that
     might dwell and the subsequent plan of
     action ( more often than not, inaction; o
     holy angel of tempered patience, teach
     them what it is to lack attrition and to look
     upon all things with a discerning eye of
     judge, but withhold from blue tongued
     antagonists secrets of great ability so that
     blessed servant verdant might not speak in
     anger nor in tidal waves ).

     a voice of temptation comes unto him, and
     it is with the lax position of hands twined
     behind himself that he regards, with upturned
     chin and a locking gaze of firm stand, this
     wrongly white demon. there is the faintest
     notion, his thoughts within himself are far
     more toxic than those that might never pass
     his lips and free to all rambling, that his home
     calling of hell had not thrown its king from
     its bowels, but instead granted him immense
     power to suffer the universe. just the same,
     it is of no importance to argue when truth is truth.

O my enemy.
Do I terrify?
Sylvia Plath, “Lady Lazarus,” from Ariel  (via mercurieux)
Anonymous ;  
Sorry if I ask too much, but what slurs?

all of them. just stop using all of them. insulting, degrading, and oppressing other people through ‘casual language’ isn’t necessary when you have so many alternatives and inherently better, more descriptive words that you can use, or not use any alternatives at all because what is the point!!! there is no point to being an asshole!!!

the rp community struggles so much with everything. transmisogynist/transphobic slurs, racial slurs, abelist slurs, gendered slurs, etc. etc. etc. white washing is so prevalent, it’s not even funny. it’s never been funny. i’ve had to unfollow several people in the past few months who used words like t**p and t****y to describe characters. it’s not ok!! who ever told you that it was ok!!! you’re free to look up lists of slurs for specific issues yourself, because trust me, there’s a lot.

just stop. there’s absolutely no reason to, and if you try to argue that you can use it ( without proper tagging, most especially in places where your muse/character is not the one saying it, which should be tagged if it’s an in character thing ), you’re part of the problem.

What is a heart?

lampxrd:

cuarrto

image

Another Espada?   I was  under  the
impression that “The Jail" had taken
care  of 
the Arrancar  that remained  
inside of Hueco Mundo. 

  the taste of wickedness
     was of a sweet ochre, pliant to be pulled apart
     and inspected upon the breadth of his tongue
     which was in no less quantities nefarious. most
     fruitless was the introspection of others, all vocal
     exclamations more suited to exaltations of his
     assumed glory. the weight of his gaze was of
     tonnes of heavens here above, and neither quickly
     withdrawn nor loitering upon falsely white cloaked
     crusaders. he’s things of a better nature to do.


Title: Ether
Artist: IC3PEAK
Played: 87 times

Like a shadow,
I am and I am not.
—Rumi (via splitterherzen)

                            ❝ and you can’t even recall where the wound was;
                                           the faces you once loved——
                                                     the woman who saved your life. ❞

pussycate:

   she claims to be of royal blood by name only but her every step is
                 regal, bold, feline in its sway
         
as she draws parallel to her underling made equal. his 
           ascent, though a start to many, is a natural result in the
           eyes of the goddess— since resplendent eyes first held
           court with poisonous green, they lit upon potential— no,
           destiny, if a hellcat allowed herself a moment’s honesty.
           greatness begat greatness, and this entity of danger not
           unlike that which she personified had always been great.
           the gleaming white apparel of a captain, marking him as
           a killer supreme, suits him like nothing else. such a sight  
           could make gilded hearts flutter, but 
yoruichi has known
           the spectre longer than her compatriots would ever dare.

           the time for reflection fades as their proximities merge; he
           likely isn’t one for congratulations, but she cannot resist.

  ” ulquiorra-kun. ” the heady purr of her voice, so oft informal,
    weaves a flawlessly formal greeting— but only in its tone.

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            " congratulations.

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  “— — — .  .  .”
      his thanks, however meagre it might be, is his
      silence. the terrible shrill of shrieking hawks and
      bell tolls that burn forth from the disuse of his
      throat must be an unpleasant thing to behold
      unto the ear, most certainly in amplification to
      the feline dwellers of this archaically spiritual
      abode. there is no humble retort of undeserved
      praise to be had — it is well deserved, eaten up
      by incisors he sheaths graciously beneath lip,
      lest they be shown to those unaccustomed to
      drawn weapons and those unready to descry.
      she is not the only predator to be had, all wily tail
      sways she may possess are of no substance
      compared to the undeniable lingering of this
      apex surpassed tail whips.

      lo, for all things must not be as they truly are in
      the light of the soul kings and empresses of g(u)ilt,
      he is yet remaining some diplomatic humility. the
      velvet studs of his tongue glint with the desire to
      correct her childish view of him, to go so far as to
      cordially congratulate him, and most specifically
      use the most demeaning of references to him — it
      was in bad taste, and he would sooner put her in
      her place. he resists, as all proper members of a
      social class envied might, though he is no less noble
      now than his beginnings in dust and dirt.

      the life of the fortunate benefitted yoruichi none.
      it should have been him to be born into such a
      household. nonetheless, his envy is unbecoming
      of him. though their glances hold each other through
      quicksilver silence, he is not above taking his leave
      past her, though it is a non-invitation to his office
      she must surely consider.