𝙾𝙽𝙸 𝙵𝚄𝙺𝚄𝙲𝙷𝙾.

So a heads up, I might remake this blog because my tags and formatting among other things are out of whack; I really want to remake them in general and keep things uniformed now that I think I know how I want to organize stuff. I say might because I’m a tired and lazy goat, so we’ll see. If I do end up remaking, threads I have will continue to be ongoing. I just need to get better organized, is all. 

BIG MIGHT.

@hiberus said: ‘ you are an ocean that will perhaps never stop crashing ’

War worn legs were trudging up along the stone staircases; feet caked with wet sands and the blood of the slain that scattered along the coasts of the raging sea. The waves were crashing, and crashing, and crashing, tides ebbing to and fro creeping onto the sanding and threatening to engulf the stone dam that guarded the elevated city from the thundering gulf. And the wind never stopped howling either, never stopped roaring like a mighty hurricane as it blasted through the waters and onto the Vice Commander’s body, carrying with it mists of water. His jacket and its sleeves flapping furiously into the hair like a flag that struggled to cling onto what grounded it. Disheveled, damp hair whisked further with grains of sand flying but they didn’t seem to bother his whitened eyes. He continued climbing to get back into the city, away from the reddened beach and closer to others he could call his enemies.

Unyielding and relentless; canines bared as he dragged his sword and rifle up and at the sound of a familiar voice. That voice so pleased, so thrilled and that voice belonging to the Roman Emperor is what made Hijikata craned his head up to ogle dully. His fair, marble face coated with blood that had been dripping from the chin and those red droplets flew, plopping onto the stone walls as he fixated on the Emperor who stood at the top of the stairs. His silhouette illuminated by the dark clouds and pale green sky and the mist that absorbed and reflected the hidden Sun’s light. “ If there is a voice that will call for me, that will roar out for me, I will fight it. ” His back straightened and his face more visible; red irises refused to bloom over the eerily glowing whites and his lips curled back, a smile of a war-hungry wolf with a tender heart that will never stop beating. “ You compare me to this ocean, but don’t you know? They will stop eventually, but I never will. Not while my guts continue to burn. ” Not while this fidelity continues to burn and to yearn for victory.

@maljefe said: ‘ sometimes it is a very sad thing to be human and longing ’

“ You really think that? ” There was a stickiness to his voice that was almost like honey, if that honey was hot and molten. It isn’t to say he was mad, oh no, but instead it was riveting—fiery—passionate—being human and longing is a sad and beautiful thing full of its promises ready to be harvested. Being human and longing is FEAR. Ready to erupt, ready to engulf the earth with that longing burning every living thing, every little thing that comes to touch it. Potential to be destructive yet in that destructive lied an opportunity of renewal. That renewal, he surmised, is what one should be truly weary of. “ Humans are the scariest things on Earth, wouldn’t you say? They find a way to crawl out of that rut sometimes and become something that the rich and even the gods may fear. Something that monsters would fear too. ” To the point of becoming monsters themselves when they start longing for something they refused to let go of.

So easy, it was so easy to shrug off humans like they’re feeble all the time. To shrug off the children, to shrug off the poor, to shrug off all who weren’t on top of the food chain when in truth, they could be the greatest forces of destruction all because of longing for something better. Dreams they held onto with a deathly, bloodied grip. “ Sometimes I forget that I was human. ” They called him a ‘Demon’ just because he was ruthless; because he imposed strict discipline only for the few to actually speak to him to discover a pleasant, kind and tender heart—but what does that matter when its war? They see what they wanted to see and they saw a demon. Demon! He looked up to the sky where the full Moon shone dauntingly with his desolate but fiery red eyes. His mouth parts but for a sharp breathe, sucking in cool air through clenched teeth: “ But I was and I longed and I got and I lost and I stood back up again, furious—pissed, and becoming this. ”