pyrsos

[pyrsos]

twist back the words like metal. the splinters settle in my stomach. I deserve this

[pyrsos]

@ignitedwill said: Having no prior experience, he didn't know how to go about it. So... he just did it spontaneously. He pulled Paris aside and took out a well-hidden, small, gray box. Inside, a platinum ring waited to be retrieved. It looked expensive, but instead of currency, his recent exertion and wounds were payment enough for it. A thousand errands later, he had obtained it. Red as a lobster, he partially hid behind his palm. "Please accept it, even if it's not to your liking. I... I love you, Paris."

Paris had been… well, suspicious. The poor gates had been thoroughly murdered for a while, and some Riders had talked about Berserker's help. Besides the obvious fact that he had hardly seen hide nor tail of his partner for ages! So naturally, when Fang pulled him aside he was happy to see him.

What? One can only get annoyed (read: tsun) so often.

But then… then, before he could say anything, Fang was presenting a ring. His heart both froze and jumpstarted into action seeing it, eyes wide and a hand covering his mouth only to feel the tears drip past his fingers. 

Why was he crying…? He knew this was coming. He could see the ring on Fang’s hand. Yet Paris kept crying, even as he grinned like a fool, wrapping his arms around his- his fiance’s neck, pressing into him like his life depended on it.

“How- how could I not love it? I love you!” Paris is laughing, head resting against Fang’s chest, listening to the heartbeat as a hand snuck to lift Fang’s up.

“This is beautiful. It’s from you! It’s... it’s your ring on me... how could it not be beautiful?” The ring was one thing, but it was the symbol that was important, not the craftsmanship. Even though the quality made his heart stutter- how long did he spend getting this- that wasn’t what caused his tears. It was the fact that this was happening. That it was real.

That Paris could wear this… and know that he wouldn’t lose someone. Not if they were together, right? That Fang had seen a cowardly fool and decided to choose him anyway, despite all the better options.

“Fang… I love you.” It hurt to pull away, but Paris gently took the ring from the box, squeezing Fang’s hand. He was going to be crying for hours, wasn’t he?  It was silly to try to wipe away his tears. Even when he was nestled against Fang’s chest, he couldn’t hide the shaking, from tears and uncontainable joy. It was only magnified after taking a step away. So with a grin, he looked up at his fiance, even with puffy eyes.

“Put this… put this on your fiance’s finger already! Geez... the Gods know I was already your’s… make it indisputable.”

[pyrsos]

[pyrsos]

Touch my muse! Touching is a quiet way of conveying your feelings, so tell me how you feel with your touch!

Top of head: Sibling affection/parental affection

Hair: Yearning

Ear: “I want you to hear me out.”

Nose: “You’re so cute.”

Cheek: “I want to tell you I love you.”/Deep affection/Devotion

Neck: Dislike/Hate/Disdain

Shoulder: Worry/Concern for other/Fear

Waist: Possessiveness/“You are mine.”

Over the heart: “I love you.”

Butt: Sexual attractiveness/lust

Hip: Interest

Back: Wanting to kill/will betray you one day

Stomach: Fun!/Silliness/“Wanna go cause some trouble?”

Forearm: Indifference/Don’t particularly care for

Biceps: Aggravation/Irritation/“You are an idiot.”

Fingers: Friendship/amicable

Wrist: Fear of losing you

Knee: “Don’t worry, I’m here for you.”

Chin: Beauty/attractiveness

Thigh: Sympathy/empathy

Calves: “I will cause you pain.”

Feet: “I will serve you forever.”/Deep devotion and and feelings of servitude/extreme fealty

[pyrsos]

@pruningalaya said: "Paris!! I need you to communicate something to Apollo for me if you can!!" Her voice is raised in comical panic. "He's a god with many of his spheres of influences in the arts right?? What colors would look nice on me if I wore them to an event?!" // ritsuka vc. I hardly get to wear anything outside of black, white, & orange. rarely blue

Paris was about to open his mouth and say something, but then he no longer had control of his body.

                                                           ----

The eyes of Paris’ body were not supposed to be that gold, that piercing. Not the darker shades of gold, no. This one was molten, glimmering, almost liquid and shifting even in those mortal eyes.

With the pop of a few joints, the body was put into motion, circling appraisingly, a concentrated look that Paris rarely held. But it should be obvious, by the floating hair, by the way the body is already beginning to bleed a golden light from the mouth, that this is not Paris.

“It depends on the event’s decor, but your complexion and hair would go nicely with a more contrasting deeper blue. Let your hair down so it stands out. A red dress would look quite nice, as well, but I would encourage you to put your hair up if so, to let the red contrast the skin and be highlighted by your hair, both face and frame flamed in fire. You could pull off white and gold in such a lovely manner, too. I suspect that a shimmering pearl tone hinted with gold would only make you even more lovely than this vessel perceives.” They come out oddly contrasting, his words, sounding somehow robot yet highly passionate at the same time, like the tongue can’t quite do both and now simply appears clumsy. All the while, a glowing sunlike liquid drips from his mouth, smears the tongue, with each word.

A grin, too sharp. Yet too caring. 

“My utmost recommendation is to wear your own flesh, Voyager of Trees and Fragments. Embrace your own. Don’t try sewing another’s on. Such attempts will always be ill-fitting, and the seams will show.” With those words, the light leaves, and the glowing fluid stops flowing.

                                                          ----

...ugh, the sun always tasted weird, in ways he didn’t want to describe or think too deeply about. Wiping the liquid from his mouth like it was normal, Paris looked over to Ritsuka with a soft smile.

“I do agree, though. You’d look nice in those. Just make sure to be comfortable, okay Voyager? That’s most important.”

[pyrsos]

OLYMPIAN AESTHETICS

A P H R O D I T E  :: laughter-loving.  sweet smiles.  dressed in silk and satin. flower in their hair.   sees the world as a runway.  unapologetically sexual.  the sea washing their ankles. in love with love.  stirrer of passion. cunning concealed by painted lips. secret daggers. doves.  revolution in their kiss. delighting in the waves. flirtatious winks. strolling along the beach.  staring wistfully from a balcony. this is how to be a heartbreaker.  wants to be adored. gets turned on by danger.

A P O L L O ::  glitz and glamour.   art galleries.   turning the volume up. being made of gold. neatly organized music sheets.   notebooks filled with poetry.   bathing in the sunlight.  the powerful urge to create.  collecting vinyl records.   beautiful cover of wonderwall.   playing multiple instruments.   tasting like sunshine.  healing touch.  speaking in prophecies.   smile mingled with wrath.  shunning lies.   sporting shades. hanging out at music festivals with their friends.   sleeps naked.   arrow to the heart.  paint brushes.   probably has a tinder account.

A R E S  ::  armed for battle.   wants to raise a dog with their significant other.   soft spot for children.  gives piggyback rides.   scarred body.   blood on their hands and face.  willing to fight the world for the ones they love.  fights against injustice. warm hugs. well worn combat boots.   boxing gloves.  bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles. fist raised in protest. ignites revolutions.  fear is a prison.  more sensitive than what their tough shell would have you think.  exhausted.   damaged goods.  force to be reckoned with. red roses. curses under their breath.

A R T E M I S  ::  keen sense of a hunter.   freckles like constellations on their skin.   piercing eyes.   disheveled braid.  moonlight peeking through the shadows.   the calm of the forest at night.   lying on the grass and staring at the stars. mother doe and her fawn.  protecting their kin.   the moon shimmering on a still lake.  quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree. running with wolves.  bonding while circled around a campfire. not being much of a people person.   arrow hitting a target. popping egos.  patience on 3%. touches heaven and returns howling.

A T H E N A  ::  discerning gaze.   unreadable face. quiet museums. owl perched on their finger.   armor that intimidates.   eye for architecture.  plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses.   studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid.   big fan of logic. loves brain teasers.  ancient buildings. sweaters in neutrals and cool colours. hair done up.  can kill you with their brain.  heads to the library often to research.  sharpened pencils. abs that can cut steel.  stoic statues.  pottery classes.

D E M E T E R   ::  soil covered hands. smile that can bloom flowers. skin loved by the sun. being the mom friend.  can lift you and your friends.  flowers kept in the pockets of overalls.   takes pride in their beautiful garden.  speaks to their plants. leaves rustling in the wind. stalks of wheat. picking fruit.  greenhouses. heart as strong as a mountain.  values simplicity.  daisies dotted across a collarbone.  curls crowned with flowers.  folded pile of sweaters in warm hues.  pulling out fresh baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.

D I O N Y S U S   ::   drunk shitposter.  on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second.  seductive smirks.  untamed curls.  rich fabrics on dark skin.  sleek furred panthers.  theatre masks.  stage productions.  receiving a standing ovation.  rose caught between their teeth.  being the baby of the bunch. wild parties that last from sundown to sunup. creeping vines. inspiring loyalty.  grand opera houses.  masquerade balls. rolls of film. shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine spilled floor.  pouring champagne into flutes.  lives for the applause.

H E P H A E S T U S   ::   the calloused hands of someone who knows labor. sweaty brow. flame burning in their eyes.  inventive mind.  broad shoulders.  steampunk goggles.  nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes.  ashes. striking a match. blueprints for future projects. fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades.  wrestles with bitterness. work boots have seen better years. wrinkled plaid shirts. iron melted in blazing fire. huge jackets. crafting masterpieces. greased stained overalls. fascination with robotics.  pain is fuel.  stack of weaponry. even their muscles have muscles.

H E R A   ::  resting bitch face.  dressed to the nines.  cows grazing on a pasture.  cool rain.  loving and hating fiercely.  hand clutching a string of pearls.  large chandelier with glittering crystals.  plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims.  romance to realism.  pictures of the sky while flying on a plane. files that under fuck it.  downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix.  like their selfie or you’re grounded.  knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man.  dark eyes that penetrate your soul. marble and gold.

H E R M E S   ::  devil - may - care smile.   always up - to - date on the latest technology.  will steal your french fries. does it for the vine. shitposter.  puts googly eyes on everything. meme hoarder.  long drives on the highway.  ma and pop diners.  spontaneous road trips. folded maps.  fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop.  shooting hoops on the basketball court.  chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations.  goes jogging in the morning. mixes redbull with coffee. menace on april fool’s. hoodies and sneakers.

P O S E I D O N   ::   storm with skin.  colorful coral reefs.  waves crashing against the shore. stroking the soft fur of a cat.  their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop.  tousled locks. clothes smeared with paint. owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more.  leather jackets.  fondness for diy projects. handwriting that flows across the page.  nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin.  velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams.  mood as ever - changing as the sea. the roar of a motorcycle. compass with a spinning arrow.

H A D E S   ::   walking home alone in the early morning.  back alleys.  drinking alone in a graveyard.  crippling loneliness hidden by sarcasm and cynicism.  crows picking a carcass.   untended dead flowers.  the black sheep of the family.  black coffee.  money can’t buy you happiness.  murder mystery dinner parties. blood on your shirt collar. dust illuminated by sunlight.  classical music.  dogs are better than people.  a quiet wrath.  shady business deals. taking what you are owed.  paint it black.  seasonal affective disorder.   popping the suit collar.  grey rain on a cityscape.

Z E U S   ::   thunder in their heart.  running on coffee. flash of lightning.  unnatural charisma. eloquence.  badass in a nice suit.   aficionado of history.  force of nature.  lennyface. nightmare - filled nights.  proud arm around their lover’s waist.  high - rise buildings. planes soaring through a cloudless sky.  technician on the piano.  maintains order.  strong handshake.   juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease. expensive watch.

tagging: all of you omg if you haven’t done this one go ahead and do it now!

tagged by: @pruningalaya​ ((thank you so much!!!))

[pyrsos]

covered in blood for sexy reasons

[pyrsos]

Those tears of pleasure simply grew more incessant once his hands were pinned, once that thrust left him trembling. 

Fang’s words just made Paris’ whines worse. If he wasn’t pinned he would have pulled forward, but as it was, he arched his back the second those kisses began. He loved him. Fang loved him, and he was laying his claim like this over him. Paris’ pulse picked up rapidly, breath hitched. Any traces of pain had long been translated into pleasure, a sort of possessive feeling hot in his gut at the thought of being Fang’s. He was Fang’s, those marks showed he was Fang’s-

Unbeknownst to Paris, he was whining, mewling, incredibly loudly. That hand and those kisses and those words. His other hand was held in the air, unsure of where to go. It settled to nestle against Fang’s cheek, smiling. One… one and only.

“Your one and only! Your’s, your’s, Fang!” Then Fang took his hand and breath ceased again. Something in his own lap twitched, feeling his hand just be used like that, like he wasn’t even attached to it. His eyes were all blown out, pupils wide and dead silent until he felt that feverishly hot pulse under his hand.

“...for this…” Paris took no more encouragement to move his hand, exploring what he’d now been presented with. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it, but this somehow made his heart leap into his throat. The touch was featherlight at first, until the reality set in, fingers wrapping around the length carefully. The motions weren’t all that different from what he’d do, right?

“...I did this. I did this to you.” That spurred him on, his other arm wrapping around Fang’s shoulders as Paris pulled his body flush close. The feeling of hot skin meeting its mate made him keen, hand trying to wrap futilely around both, shaking and trembling violently through all the tears. (It was a good thing he wasn’t aware of how positively weepy pleasure made him, or it’d be one more thing to be self-conscious about.) This was the body of his partner. A body which would do him no harm.

A hesitant shift of his hips, and his head went back, moaning through the sensations. It felt like his nerves were on fire, his air short, each breath coming out like a whine. Each tiny movement left him feeling like fire was pulsing through his veins. So of course, Paris’ clever mind got to talking.

“D- does it feel good for you, Fang? I’m yours. No one else’s, ever, ever. You- you can do whatever you want- ahh- I love you, I love you so much, Fang, you feel- you feel so good-! I never thought- I love you- I- ahhh, Faaang-!” The whimpering and crying is pretty loud at this point, before Paris stops, sudden, and he’s shaking more violently than when he broke down earlier, length twitching. From where they cage Fang in, his legs have tensed, and Paris looks down to where he’s holding them together with an utterly wrecked expression.

“I- I don’t wa- not- not yet... you feel- so good against me- Fang, Fang, Fang-” Then he’s pushing forward into a kiss, desperate for any distraction from his current problem.

They would have enough time to be embarrassed about it in hindsight.

Keep reading

[pyrsos]

Self-Knowledge Quiz

RATIONALITY

You like clarity and intelligent simplicity and you get frustrated at messy thinking. This can make you seem unreasonably pushy to some, but it is actually a virtue: you are motivated by a horror at pointless effort and a longing for precision and insight into how things and people work. Your ability to synthesise and bring order is essential in producing thinking which is truly helpful.

PLAYFULNESS

You are good at seeing what’s funny, at relaxing and finding the pleasure of the moment. Play is random, whimsical, fantasy-driven behaviour which releases internal tension. Because it is detached from some pressures it allows you to act on weirder, perhaps neglected, parts of yourself. The downside is that it is no help in sticking with things that are not much fun but which need to be addressed. So it is well complemented by its opposite, Stoicism.

RESILIENCE

You have a tendency, after a setback, to turn your emotions towards restriving. What attracts you is the idea of wiping out a humiliation by resumed action – overcoming weakness, repressing your fear. Because part of your motive is pride, you can sometimes be unwilling to admit weakness or to receive aid. But at heart, tour insistence on coming back and never folding has taught you a valuable pessimism: you know that important journeys are never easy.

[pyrsos]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ REVOLTING PEOPLE / 2.03 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

‘that’s not playing. that’s the cruel and unusual punishment of an innocent banjo.’

‘they’re not your friends.’

‘well thank god for that! it halves the pain!’

‘you should be blindfolded and shot, with all due respect.’

‘you’d think there’d be villages to burn, or plunder to plunder.’

‘things are as quiet as a eunuchs codpiece.’

‘i’m thinking of packing up my troubles and going on the road.’

‘in many ways, it’s actually easier to play the banjo with one arm.’

‘you can’t bend iron.’

‘you call that generous? are you insane?’

‘there’s also the matter of pride.’

‘did i feel used? yes. did i hurt myself? yes. could i look at myself in the mirror? no, but then i never could.’

‘you’ll catch your death of exposure.’

‘why don’t you just feel my heart?!’

‘well, give some orders that involve passion every once in a while.’

‘you could be pelted with rocks.’

‘damn it man, have you got no gumption?’

‘what more do you need? a note from your mum? naked lute players?’

‘i can be passionate with the best of them.’

‘i’ll not fall into your trap, no matter how you tempt me.’

‘say it! before we both die of old age!’

‘my hand? all you want is my hand?! what about THESE?! don’t you want THESE, too!’

‘oh, relax. it was just girlish exuberance.’

‘i’m quite supple for a man of my…  avoirdupois.’

‘i couldn’t help but smell the breasts. food! i couldn’t help but smell the food!’

‘it’s my job to measure trees.’

‘imagine what chaos would ensue if someone were to miscalculate the weight of a tree!’

‘i laugh, but there’s really nothing funny about that kind of faux pas.’

‘you’ve abandoned your family.’

‘you mustn’t talk that way.’

‘i went off on a bit of a tangent, there.’

‘what were you planning to do? hibernate in the wood forever?’

‘be honest, who would have missed me?’

‘her face contorts into a mask of pain whenever she sees me.’

‘are you saying i should go home with my tail between my legs?’

‘i’ve bought his silence, albeit at a price i cannot afford.’

‘i’m an idiot, aren’t i?’

‘can’t you see i’m bedridden?’

‘i’ll have to go on one of those special eating regimes. there’s this new one where you can eat as much as you want whenever you want provided you only eat carrots.’

‘i was promised servants!’

‘did you just refer to your son as a creature?’

‘you’ll just have to get out of bed and take some responsibility.’

‘and look how we turned out! a slut, a harden and a nitwit.’

‘i’m the slut.’

‘how old would you guess i am?’

‘alright, no hurry on that. just give it some thought.’

‘you’ve knocked the door down again!’

‘it’s my first book: when cows dry up.’

‘why can’t we learn more about ourselves as human beings by studying the inner workings of our animal friends?’

‘i’m reading every single word! apart from the ones with these funny shapes.’

‘it sounds like the baby’s had an epiphany. a great big one.’

‘don’t throw the baby!’

‘i would have knocked, but there’s no door.’

‘i don’t need to knock, because i live here.’

‘he’s never satisfied with the length of things.’

‘awh, jeez. just when she’s about to tear his head off.’

‘by your furrowed brow and by your face twisted into that vinegary snarl, i take it you’re angry about something.’

‘angry? i’m /frightened/.’

‘and that actually /mattered/ to you?’

‘will you kiss me hello, then?’

‘don’t you understand that my restraint is out of respect for your honour?’

‘where on earth did you hear that?’

‘you’re acting like a child.’

‘anyhow, i’m leaving. i’ve got a very important secret meeting.’

‘where’s your voice coming from?’

‘i’m spying!’

‘why are you dressed as an elk?’

‘i had some spare time, so i figured, ‘hey, i’ll stitch me up an elk suit’. as you do.’

‘you’ve been bored to tears, haven’t you?’

‘i’ve been as bored as the corpse at a funeral.’

‘i’m not prepared to talk to a man dressed as an elk.’

‘i don’t want to hear all your ludicrous insubordinate prattle about wooden mooses and what-have-you. just leave me alone!’

‘ain’t ours to reason why.’

‘i’d never say avast; that’s pirate talk.’

‘do you want to know what i would do in a situation like this?’

‘i’d appear in the dead of night dressed in this elk outfit. i’d do a rude mating dance outside her window, bellowing, guttural noises, and pawing at the turf. then, i’d void myself to mark my territory. then, i’d swing through her window, preferably an open one, on a vine. then i’d blindfold her and shackle her to the bedframe. then i’d pour a warm vanilla sauce over her. then, and only then, i’d turn loose the cats.’

‘when you say cats… do you mean wildcats?’

‘i was just telling you what /i’d/ do in this situation.’

‘you shouldn’t be here. what do you want?’

‘i must be out of my mind.’

‘we take turns wearing the pants.’

‘i know i don’t have the right to just barge into your life.’

‘what an entirely delightful surprise!’

‘aren’t you going to introduce us?’

‘i’m here to see the famous baltimore bird sanctuary and cheese castle.’

‘everybody reminds somebody of someone.’

‘hold your fire! i’m human!’

‘what are we, giving away free puppies?’

‘i’m late for my… thing.’

‘it’s too busy. i’m exhausted.’

‘think she suspected anything?’

‘you should get into espionage.’

‘you think /you/ had a trying day?’

‘my day was no stroll through the woods— oh, wait. that’s exactly what it was.’

‘i saw him bandaging up a bear which didn’t seem particularly sick.’

‘how many rich bear doctors do you know?’

‘please. don’t tread on my dreams.’

‘is it my turn again?’

‘i don’t want to keep you awake with my restless thrashing.’

‘i wouldn’t mind a little thrashing.’

‘why not remove it from your pocket and let me see it?’

‘are we talking about the same thing?’

[pyrsos]

the feeling eats at you. it starts at your stomach, and then it destroys, destroys, destroys. you could fix it. easily. but you don’t.

you’re such a coward.

[pyrsos]

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM BASTILLE’S “DOOM DAYS” ALBUM (PART 2).

NOCTURNAL CREATURES

“it’s our weekend religion.” “we’ve only got ourselves to blame.” “let every night play out the same.” “i wouldn’t change a thing.” “we own the night.” “we don’t need a reason if we want to lose our minds.” “the morning doesn’t reach us. not until we want it to.” “the orange sky says the night’s alive.” “we stretch these hours as far as we can make them go.” “we were completely unaware what to do with this freedom.”

4AM

“i don’t know who’s where.” “i’ve got all of my old friends, and new friends i’ve met once before.” “you are my family.” “there is nowhere that i would rather be.” “i could never want for more when i’m here.” “i’m losing my mind.” “this got out of hand.” “i don’t care if we’re going around in circles.”

ANOTHER PLACE

“i am bound to you with a tie we cannot break.” “i’m lost but found you in a bed we’ll never make.” “i could write a book about the things you said to me on the pillow.” “just call this what it is.” “we don’t pretend it’s real.” “don’t make promises to me that you’re gonna break.” “don’t paint wonderful lies on me that wash away.” “in another time, what could we have been?” “lie to me tonight.” “imagine that you are mine.” “we’ll be good in another life.” “it felt like something special but it never felt like love.” “i wonder what we could be living in another life.” “catch us in the mirror and it looks a lot like love.”

THOSE NIGHTS

“i can feel your eyes in the back of my head.” “i’m chemically drawn closer to you.” “will you be my future or just an escape?” “you’ll never get to heaven on a night like this.” “aren’t we all just looking for a little bit of hope, these days?” “what’s your name, now?” “i’ll be your rabbit in the headlights.” “we’ll never get to heaven.”

JOY

“thought i’d never be waking on the kitchen floor.” “my morning has broken.” “my mind’s falling.” “regrets can’t change anything.” “i was giving up.” “how d’you always know when i’m down?” “i’m your walking disaster.” “keep on dragging me from self-pity.” “you’re a sweet relief.” “you saved me from my brain.” “i feel joy when you call me.”

[pyrsos]

@ignitedwill said: 😉💋 - from Fang u w u

This mission was taking far too long. It wasn’t even a proper singularity, but a day had turned into a week and Paris was hovering in the control room before being finally shooed out.

Maybe later he’d thank them.

Paris had been walking down the hallway to Fang’s room when his back was suddenly against the wall. It took only a second for him to react, going from defensive to delighted to see who had done that. What a difference, from the first time he was pinned against a wall by this man to now.

"Took you lo-" But he barely gets the chance to speak before Fang's hands are on his hips, pulling him in close and- oh, he did miss him, then. That thought has a hunger to it that Paris can't escape.

Then there's hot breath on his neck, and it's over. The Archer whines as lips connect to the sensitive skin, head blurring. A leg hitches up and with Fang's grip on him it's easy to be held, back up against the wall and neck being lavished in affection.

“Fang…” Paris moans, and it seems like that has an effect, because he’s being picked up and before his hazy mind can process what’s happening he’s on his back on a familiar smelling bed and Fang is above him. It only takes a second to figure out his thought process from there, a hand hooking into Fang’s shirt with a grin.

“Make up for lost time… won’t you, partner?~”

[pyrsos]

@pruningalaya said: 👗 (fix clothing)

It had been bugging him since their last battle. Voyager’s collar was popped halfway up, halfway down. Either she didn’t notice or didn’t care. But Paris did, an annoying amount.

“Ritsuka!” The nickname was on and off, on a basis that even Paris didn’t really get. But now he’s walking up to her, a lighthearted kind of annoyance on his face. Once she turned, Paris stepped in with a kind of reluctant fondness.

“Geez… you didn’t notice this for so long…” It’s more nagging than anything, as Paris smooths it out with a satisfied look.

“There. That’s better, isn’t it?” It’s a much sunnier smile, though, and he hasn’t even noticed their close proximity. Take advantage of that or don’t as you will, Voyager.

[pyrsos]

@mnemosys said: 💧🌸 - from Shiro

It a singularity in his time. One… one where the Trojan War was won by Troy. Of course it was.

But standing before this statue was impossible to do without crying. Hektor was always a hero, wasn’t he? His brother was a hero. He always would be.

And Paris… Paris… 

It was the dead of night, and he was crying in the streets. No, crying didn’t fit. He was sobbing, breaking down in front of a statue of his dead brother.

With a hitched breath he noticed the presence behind him. Shiro was standing there, looking sympathetic (he felt close enough to his master to not read it as pity.) Without a word, he was sitting next to him on the ground.

Paris kept crying, for a few minutes, until something soft touched his ear. With confusion, he looked up- to see Shiro holding a flower, which was then tucked into his hair. Where did he even…?

Still, the action had its intended effect. Paris’ expression turned more to confusion. 

“Why…?” But the answer was already obvious, right? To stop his tears. Paris smiled a bit, at that. It still hurt. His chest still felt hollow.

“I get it… I get it. Come on, Master. Let’s go back to the others.” It wasn’t that easy. This singularity wasn’t ever going to be easy. But for a moment, maybe it could be. Just one single moment.

[pyrsos]

@cfmartyrdcm said: 💥 Try to calm my muse during an overwhelming emotional moment (Ganymede)

Paris didn’t know what had happened, what was going on. But he didn’t care right now.

All he could focus on was the Caster who looked like he couldn’t breathe. Ganymede. Cutting through the crowd (of course there was a small crowd forming) he knelt down next to the Caster, carefully holding his hands. Just in case. 

(Paris’ experience with his own attacks often left him with blood under his fingers. It was the only real main thing he could think of doing.)

“Hey. Hey, Ganymede. Focus on me, okay? It’s Paris. It’s me.” Paris wasn’t good at speaking gentle or soft, but he certainly could try, eyes full of worry. What could he do? What caused it? He couldn’t do anything.

He couldn’t do anything but be there.

“Just breathe, okay? Just breathe. You’re here.” Maybe that meant something? Hopefully it did. Until Ganymede calmed down, though, all he could do was be here and talk, two things that were luckily easy for Paris to do.

“Just breathe. I’m right here, okay Ganymede? I’m Paris. Nobody else, you’re here, right here. Just breathe.”

[pyrsos]

Nonverbal RP Starters

I’m finding it difficult to find memes for nonverbal characters ( be they mute, or just not fond of talking ) so I thought I’d make a few!

Neutral

☝️ Tap my muse on the shoulder

👉 Point to something for my muse to see

🤙 Bump into my muse

😊 Sit down next to my muse

🤨 Sit down across from my muse

📓 Push/Slide [an object] across a table to my muse

✍️ Pass my muse a note

🙄 Roll their eyes at my muse

🚪 Tap on a table/door/wall/chair to get my muse’s attention without speaking

Aggressive

🐺 Growl at my muse

😬 Snarl/show teeth at my muse

😠 Death Glare at my muse

🙌 Push/Shove my muse

👊 Punch my muse

👖 Kick my muse in the shin

👠 Stomp on my muse’s foot

😵 Knee my muse in the gut

💀 Knee my muse in the groin

🔪 Point a weapon at my muse

🖕 Flip my muse the bird/a similar gesture

👔 Roughly pull my muse down by the collar

💢 Bang on a door/wall/table to get my muse’s attention- angrily

Angst

👩‍⚕️ Put pressure on my muse’s wound

🌡 Push my muse down to give them medical attention

🥣 Bring my muse soup/medicine when they are sick

🤢 Hold my muse’s hair back/Rub my muse’s back while they are sick/throwing up

👐 Hold my muse when they are badly wounded/dying

👁 Wake my muse up during a nightmare

🐱 Hold my muse after a nightmare

😭 Hold my muse when they are crying

😢Touch my muse’s shoulder while they are crying in secret

💧 Wipe away my muse’s tears

💥 Try to calm my muse during an overwhelming emotional moment

⛈ Find my muse after some kind of trauma

Soft

👕 Tug on my muse’s sleeve/shirt/skirt

🐈 Lean against my muse’s side

🤝 Hold my muse’s hand

🤗 Pull my muse into a hug

🐕 Rest their head on my muse’s shoulder/knee

🐶 Nuzzle my muse with their nose [specify a location]

✋ Touch the back of my muse’s hand

🤝 Reach for my muse’s hand to hold it

👗 Fix/Straighten my muse’s clothes

😴 Stand by the bed to see if my muse will let you under the covers with them

🛌 Crawl under the covers with my muse

🥪 Set a plate/tray/bowl of food down for my muse

😚 Kiss my muse on the cheek

Playful

🌸 Put a flower in my muse’s hair

✨ Playfully shove my muse’s shoulder

💃 Pull my muse onto a dance floor/up to dance

🤞 Come up beside them and tap the shoulder opposite where they’re standing

😈 Jump out of the shadows to scare/startle my muse

😛 Stick their tongue out at my muse

😱 Make a silly face at my muse

🤭 Tickle my muse

👃 Poke my muse’s nose

💪 Pick my muse up

Sensual/Sexual

💘 Pull my muse in for a rough kiss

💕 Pull my muse in for a tender kiss

💞 Pull my muse in for a messy/desperate kiss

💖 Lean in to give my muse a sweet/chaste kiss

❤️ Lean in to give my muse a tender kiss

🔥 Pull my muse down by the collar/by their clothes - in a sexy way

😉 Pull my muse in by the hips

😲 Smack my muse’s butt

💋 Kiss my muse’s neck

👌 Push my muse down and give them a massage

👙 Pull [an article of clothing] off my muse

👀 Push my muse down on the bed

👄 Pull my muse onto the bed