He Reaches A Hand Out, Gently Cupping Akechi's Chin To Turn His Head, Ever So Delicately, Towards Him.

He reaches a hand out, gently cupping Akechi's chin to turn his head, ever so delicately, towards him. "Turn to me, please? I want to ensure I capture the best angle." He smiles softly, and nods. "Perfect. Truly perfect." // Yusuke to Akechi c;

the gesture is a minute one, one that does not matter. ━ thoughtless, lacking purpose beyond the simple effect borne from its request and stated, gentle out of necessity : nothing, nothing, nothing. ( the mind answers, and yet the body is beyond reason. )

Blood is beyond debate, beyond argument, beyond opinion nor honesty nor deceit, it rises past like the sea & the shore; overwhelmingly. ━ heat, a compulsive flushing of the skin of which is out of his hands from the moment Yusuke nods & the sincere delicacy remains like porcelain in tea-sets; his face warms, the skin of his cheeks, across the ridge of his nose, the set of his jaw flush redder, and a stiff embarrassment collapses into its own creation in his stomach. It takes a lot to keep himself from looking away. there's a stubborn, sharp persistence as he keeps his eyes focused on Yusukes. ━━ but he moves smoothly, without reluctance.

how indulgent. ━ some might call it trying, annoying, to take such action, take the time playing model ( or was it muse? ) for something as minor, and while Akechi felt the itch of anticipation in his legs ━ the eternal knowing that his hours spared are few and far between, always so fleeting on what to do with them, always knowing there's something more productive to spend them on ━ the solidified thought remained that if he ever met any individuals of such an impatient caliber; he would very much like to break their jaw.

━ but a sharpness in his eye is the only hint to such harsh, angry thoughts.

"Best angle?" Akechi finds himself inquiring, which isn't to say he doesn't think before he speaks ━ he always does ━ but rather to say he still finds some level of... unexpectedness in his own words. He tries, very hard, to ignore the flush across his face ( and perhaps, were he more religious, pray that Yusuke do the same. ) "Usually, I'm told side-profiles are the most appealing. I must wonder if I've been misled, or your eyes simply see me differently."

I made an observation about how Dustfinger loves the inkworld so so much, and how it loves him right back in a post I reblogged yesterday and now I literally can’t stop thinking about it

Because I just, UGH. He really does, he loves the fire and the fairies and his best friend. His wife, his daughter, his now step-son. The trees, the traveling, the singing, the dancing, even the danger. He loves every part of this world with his whole heart

And it loves him right back! The fairies who healed his face after Basta slashed it, the nymphs who remembered his face even after so long gone, the White Women who love him and his fire, The Great Shapechanger who let him go from her realm of death. For every ounce of love Dustfinger pours into this world, he gets it right back

Which is like, that’s the crux of his character isn’t it? Love. Dustfinger is many things, and he sees himself as many more, but at his core? He is full of love. He loves deeply and wholly. And I love that about him <3

Send '❤️❔' if you'd be interested in discussing a potential ship between our muses!

-send '<3?' if the emojis don't show!

decided to revisit my favorite reptile

<33

Wind up on your own floor / Choking on blood

Death of Silence, or Jean-Louis Trintignant (2013), Angela Dufresne / Sept. 15, 1983, The Mountain Goats