I smell you.
I know you’re here.
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
crackof released tension masks the clack of chattering, giggling teeth.
“Look who got thrown out’f ＨＥＬＬ."
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.
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?
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.
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.
" congratulations. “
“— — — . . .”
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.