#【 ANONYMOUS 】— ᴍᴀsᴋᴇᴅ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ.

[deathbanchou]

This whole blog gives me life! It's so good... thank you for creating it :D

[ :’’0 if only words could explain how happy this ask made me, friend!! ashsajdh. 

this is the nicest, most precious thing i’ve heard in a while. thank you, whoever you are!! and ily!! thank you for stopping by just to brighten my day. you’re awesome and contribute to the reasons that keep me going when i don’t feel so well! thank you again, from the bottom of my heart :’’)♡ ]

[deathbanchou]

Myka is cool

[ oh no!! cool anon!! you’re still around, i’ll cry, i love you, you’ve made me so happy, again! it’s been so long, i wasn’t sure if i was cool anymore ;__; but that’s probably because i’ve been offline so much…

yknow, i might have been //too cool// the past few days since i caught a cold. but i’m still trying and pushing myself to do things because i really really want to and need to. i’m really trying and wanting to become active again! i’ve said this forever but yknow, it’s almost anniversary for when @crossfortun convinced me to make this blog when i for so long thought i would leave it be, no matter how much i did want to make one… i have to be able to get on more for that reason alone!

also… only a couple of weeks until my summer vacation. then i can be on again! for sure.

thank you!! this kicked my sick ass in a good way!!

[deathbanchou]

⚡️ What is your best drawing?

SEND “⚡️” AND A QUESTION AND MY MUSE WILL BE FORCED TO ANSWER HONESTLY || accepting!

      “…Best drawing?”

   He sounds surprised and quickly falls pensive, caught off guard by the question – something he honestly has never been asked before. It wasn’t that his art hobby was a secret, really, but neither was it a widespread known fact about the former Boss. Not these days it wasn’t, very unlike it had been in his past. He used to carry around his art supplies proudly, even despite the mockery it sometimes garnered his way. Then… what had happened? Why was he no longer as open about his talent, the one thing he once loved so very dearly? It was only recently that he was able to – though perhaps not answer the question – at least speculate about it. Why his dream had changed.

   “Oh, it’s… actually something pretty recent.” Though his heavy makeup somewhat obstructs such subtle change in expression, his bashfulness still shines through. Like embarrassed or hesitant to go on. Perhaps it was no surprise. After all, his truthful answer to the inquiry remains extremely personal. In some ways, the entire subject was quite … delicate, to say the least.

   Mt. Iwato. The place many painful memories were buried within that summer day ten years ago. To have them back was neither pleasant or easy, such unbearable guilt it was – carrying the burden of the sin committed by a group of kids who knew not any better back then. With those memories, however, many uncertainties also gained some clarity. As such, Eikichi also finally understands his complicated relationship with his former passion. It was longing, a wistful feeling deep down; like there was something missing. Gradually, in the ten years that passed, every time he’d lift a pen and began sketching, something would eventually stop him from truly getting into it. A certain, inexplicable sadness, or even a lack of inspiration. He still felt inclined to keep up this hobby to a certain extent, as something that just came naturally to him; something he’s always been good at, but with the sad reality of most of his artworks being left unfinished. And so, eventually, he no longer yearned to become a mangaka like back then, instead focusing his energy towards his new passion; music and performance.

   Was it possible to remember something without acknowledging it? For a sorrowful memory to dwell somewhere deep in one’s subconscious, faintly making its existence noticeable by guiding its owner’s actions? It certainly seemed that way; the child within him, whose memory of those wistful feelings had disappeared for an entire decade, instead gaining the disguise of a distant dream, somehow longed for the one thing he always wished he could have done with his friends. To share his passion for art; to draw with them. Their little group of friends, calling themselves the Masked Circle, had a habit of choosing a leader each time during their meetings by a game of rock-paper-scissors, and the leader then would choose the activity for the day. The leader’s rules were absolute, and everyone would follow them. However, Eikichi (or Yellow Owl) never got to be the leader. This, perhaps – he now finds himself musing in retrospect, having regained those memories – may have been the very cause behind that odd, wistful and empty feeling that drawing would sometimes rouse in him. Such a naive thought, it truly was, but with so much heartache and longing associated, it may have made sense for a childish thought like that to persist, deep down. Even without fully acknowledging it until now.

   “Well… It’s something I did with my friends.” His voice is somewhat quiet, still reluctant to ‘spill the beans’. Rarely is such a silent and sincere side of him on display. He’s not used to being this vulnerable around strangers – let alone anyone outside of his tight-knit group of friends. It’s awkward, even though the answer itself carries a significant amount of happy thoughts. Not only had he regained his memories – though painful, also bittersweet – he also had his friends back. Finally, having been able to do what he for such a long time wished he could. Playing Masked Circle, ten years later and finally winning and having his go as the leader. And so, they all drew pictures together, just like Eikichi desired since a little child of six. With this, every single sad association seemed to as if melt away, in turn producing what the boy strongly felt was the best drawing he remembers making in full ten years of time. Like he had his passion back.

   Finally, he lifts his gaze and crosses his arms, his earlier, pensive state turning into something much firmer. Speaking now louder and with more energy, he gives an honest, solid answer – though still avoiding going into too many sensitivities or personal details.   

      “It ain’t so much what I drew, so forget about that… Sometimes it’s the feeling you get, when you do something you enjoy. And that time… I felt really happy and inspired. That’s why it’s the best piece I’ve done so far. – Makes sense, right?”

[deathbanchou]

when are you coming back? :(

[ sjadhskdk friend…

i know i keep saying this but as soon as the lethal combination of uni + winter stops kicking my ass! uni drains my time and winter drains my energy. i kind of half promised i would be here for winter break, but turns out that really just wasn’t going to happen either… the fact that i was as active as i was on here from may to august last year wasn’t a coincidence. that’s.. literally just when i have the energy (and now time) to do anything. i’m expecting it to get a little easier on me sometime in april, in may latest. and that’s when i’m planning to do the Good Old Grand Scale Return (with promos and shit and replaying the game for the eighth time or something just to nurture my headspace back in shape, etc, etc). it feels a little frustrating to only log in to post art for character birthdays at the moment but that’s the least i can do! (i promised myself i wouldn’t forget any of them)

that being said, as it is my muse’s best friend’s bday and @crossfortun and i are still dreaming of (more) threads together one of these days, i’m thinking of trying to kick out some jun threads/old ask replies today/this weekend. and some type of bday thing! ]

[deathbanchou]

i love you

      “…Hmmm? Ah, of course you do, honey. It’s obvious.      You may try, but no one can resist the genius artist      Michel’s charm and beauty forever…”

   All this comes out effortlessly and in succession as a response to the words uttered by a stranger, singing softly his own chain of narcissistic vocabulary. Eyes closed and lipstick covered lips forming a complacent smirk, he wraps his arms around himself in a sort of an embrace. Indeed, he bothered not to even check if this was directed at him. As far as he was concerned though, those words rightfully belonged to him to play with – to rehearse his act with. 

     “What was it? Was it the smoldering gaze I just gave you,       that finally made you give in? C’mere. Don’t be shy, baby.”

[deathbanchou]

⚡️ + Why did you and Miyabi break up? Were there any hard feelings over it afterwards?

SEND “⚡️” AND A QUESTION AND MY MUSE WILL BE FORCED TO ANSWER HONESTLY || accepting

  “Hanakouji-san…” the boy simply mumbles to himself, the mention of the childhood friend’s name immediately sending him deep into a world of his own. “Break up” – that’s what he had told everyone upon the subject of her initially being brought up. However, this term was far from describing the actual truth regarding what had happened all those years ago. Hanakouji Miyabi was never the boy’s childhood sweetheart - not like that - but a ‘mere’ close friend, a one-sided crush - (as far as he was concerned) - that would never have reciprocated his feelings. She was pretty, popular and all the things the timid little boy back then wasn’t - but more importantly, she was always so very, very kind. Then what happened? Why, why did she say those things about him? Why had she told everyone something like that? Her kindness and care for him was genuine, he remained convinced of it to this day. It wasn’t possible to fake something like that. And besides, why would she? Associating herself with a boy like him brought her no “props” in the eyes of the others, whatsoever. Quite the contrary – if anything, she could have been ridiculed for it. Was that the reason why? Why she told everyone she hated people like him …because of his weight? Would she think differently of him now? He always wondered. He had changed, after all…

   Eikichi sighs, extremely reluctant to speak the truth. It hurt all too much, it made him feel the kind of sadness he was constantly trying to avoid. He’s too sensitive for this, and he knows it – thinking back on it makes him almost want to cry, no matter how long he’s coped with it, and it feels absolutely ridiculous. “Real men don’t cry, no matter how much it hurts”. That’s what his dad would always say. But it wasn’t something he ever felt he could control. When feelings hit him, they hit him hard – swallowing him up in a giant wave of emotion and never releasing, not until he’d let it all out. This time he wouldn’t break. No, he’s shed his tears about this a long, long time ago. He’d sworn to change and not be weak like that anymore. Still, it never did make it any easier for him to talk about. He would have much rather resorted to lying… Did he really have to be honest?

   “–It wasn’t like that,” is all he manages to start his response with, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, taking a long pause before carrying on. “I admired the Hanakouji-san I knew back then… But it was never like that…” It felt strange to outright admit it to someone, not exaggerating or lying about their relationship like the boy usually would have. Not making himself look like the the one who had ended “it” -- the supposed relationship they had -- and her the one who’d had her heart broken. Like being made to relive that painful memory all over again.

   As if that part wasn’t difficult enough to be truthful about, it was nothing compared to what he was supposed to say next. The reason for the end of their friendship. How and why she had disappeared from his life back then, never to be seen again. He was left longing, for all those years, never to be distracted by another potential target for his affections. Like a curse it was, in a way, not being able to ever truly forget and move on. But what could be done? No one had ever treated him quite like she had, no one was quite let in like that. There was no replacing someone who still held such a big spot in his heart. He couldn’t force himself to.

   Another moment of uncomfortable silence, the boy’s gaze never lifting from the ground. “She said some things and she felt bad… So she… didn’t wanna see me again.” It was vague, but the closest to a proper explanation he could muster. He wasn’t going to spill the beans and slander her. That was the gist of it, anyway – at least how he’d interpreted it. She truly had avoided him ever since – ever since those bullies told Eikichi the cruelties she had said. Hanakouji-san was a kind person and would not have meant what she had said. He knew it now, in retrospect - there was simply no other explanation. It was true that he was mad at the girl for a while, having sworn to never forgive her. However, that feeling of anger would soon pass and only be replaced by that of genuine sorrow. It wasn’t her fault. He wasn’t mad at her anymore. Not for a long while, he hasn’t been…

   “…I was mad, but I’m not anymore… We were just kids, anyway. I’m sure she had her reasons.” Eikichi frowns, revealing his utter discomfort with the topic, but what he says is sincere. Things were different now, and there never had been any closure. He at least wished he could have heard from her. Something, anything. To have proof that she still existed, somewhere out there. His final answer is short and concise, revealing the boy’s almost childlike innocence.

      “I– I just wanna talk to her again…       …I wanna know how she’s been doing…”