#ninkaku

[yoseno]

he's been trying to get her all month. has tried many different settings. just outside the office, her own apartment, and even going as far to hold the damn thing over his head himself and sidle up niiiice and close to her. with no luck. as a last resort, dazai has now strategically taped the worn bunch of mistletoe to the top of the infirmary doors, and is now waiting patiently outside the door for her to exit, after knocking with a false sense of urgency just to get her moving. when he's eventually met with the sight of her furrowed brows, he simply points upwards, as they are both now stood directly underneath it. :D

if she squinted, she could see the silhouette of him hanging outside her door through the opaque glass, magentas narrowed into slits as she waited a beat. fingers curled over the small clipboard as though she debated even getting up from her seat. out of pure spite and pettiness, of course. and amusement, in watching him suffer just a little from her pseudo - obliviousness. the doctor knew him well enough, could read him through the smallest of expressions or the small whine that'd leave his lips quietly but not so quiet that she couldn't catch it — to which she assumed was pointed on his end. her steps were slow as she approached, and movements even slower as the door opened to reveal a holly - jolly detective agent with an arguably unattractive holiday sweater and candy cane hair clips ( curtesy of kyouka ). now facing him, side leaning against the doorway, she can hear the soft music playing from the main space. she doesn't look up to see the faint tint of green hanging between their heads, just slightly out of view. “ my, you are persistent. ” ends of brims twitch as she resists a smile, failing once he shakes the mistletoe above them a bit more aggressively that the small plant is rustling with force. “ and dedicated. ”

pads of fingertips dance over the front of his sweater before clinging to the slope of it, tugging him down to her height, lashes fluttering as she breaks the focus of his intense gaze. he smells sweet, a concoction of december delicacies, and she can feel her heart thumping in her chest. no doubt he would hear it. “ you can have your gift a little early, i suppose. ” she murmurs against his lips, words nearly muffled between them as the distance is closed before she could finish speaking. arms are wrapped around his shoulders, weight shifting so that she stands up taller to fall into his embrace fully, soft hum burying in her throat when she feels his hands settle on the curve of her waist, and then tightening his hold around her frame. she doesn't care that anyone could come across them in such a state at this moment, only that his kisses make her dizzy, and that she could not get enough. it is especially challenging when she just barely manages to pull herself back, much to his reluctance, lips brushing against his as she mutters, “ you can open the rest of your present tonight. ”

[avichor]

🔥an unpopular opinion of ur choice

this is a two parter but. the villainization of people having FRIENDS on tumblr dot com will never not be baffling to me. like this has been a topic for as long as i've been present in any rpc platform, where ppl are guilted for having friends and prioritizing interactions with friends. it's not a clique, not in the way ppl are using it as an insult or as a means to invalidate people's circles. there are instances of cliques, i think, or just groups of people who interact solely for the intent of being miserable freaks but i never actually see people talking about that. it's always someone getting upset about something and resorting to calling a group of friends a "clique".

and when we have friends, we typically share the same values and mindset, so like, YES! if someone did smth gross ( beyond petty stuff ) to my friend, why would i want to continue to interact with that person ? the "well, they didn't do it to me, so........." is actually sooooooo mind boggling to me and really gross! friends don't expect friends to behave a certain way, it's just respect and consideration for each other. bc i value how my friend feels more than continuing interactions with someone that's virtually a stranger or plain acquaintance. ( which also kinda leads me towards the perspective that ppl throw out the word "friend" too easily here when you're acquaintances at best ). with all that said, there are, of course, nuances. there are instances of ppl weaponizing friendship to guilt ppl into reacting a certain way or cutting ties and thats freak behavior!

[sarastuss]

📏 + 5’11” !!

send me 📏 (ruler) + your muses height &. I'll compare them to mine!

[enypneion]

hello :eye:

hi :eye:

[hellshovnd]

@ninkaku Dazai wrote: ❛ this fear you feel? it won’t last. ❜

Akutagawa's never one to regret his decisions, especially not ones who teach him how to survive. However, the more time he spends under Dazai's mentorship, the more he finds himself truly lacking. He had thought himself brave, capable of handling anything thrown his way. Rashomon devours his enemies and friends alike should he wish, nothing would touch him but their blood in the end.

Yet the man in black subverts all his expectations.

There's a barely contained tremble before Rashomon lunges for Dazai. A defense reflex, a failed one as the black tendril dissolves upon the man's touch and the deafening sound of a gun echoes throughout the building.

His breathing is erratic. Eyes blown wide as he stares at the spot where the bullet disappears into the bleak creature's mouth. Had Rashomon been any more delayed that would have been his end, had he he stayed arrogant to think he could reach the man, there would be no more chance at all.

Still, his mentor speaks of fear.

'It won't last.'

Even in this the mafioso astounds him. But Akutagawa realizes that he is right. In their line of work, fear should be discarded. If the bullet's won't come from Dazai, they'll come from someone else with a bigger will to put him in a coffin.

"..." With a stagger, he straightens up. Eyes fixed on the older as he tries to save composure, even if his legs still shake, even if his fists grip tight. He's still too stubborn to admit anything. A slowly subdued rabid dog in training.

"... Again." But even then he knows that he'll have to fight for the chance. Dazai's not one to be generous should he fail, and he feels that right now he failed his mentor, hard.

"Let me try again."

[crimcpnish]

@ninkaku has inquired: ❝ i'm doing some of my best work here and you don't even have the decency not to roll your eyes at me. honestly, it’s hurtful. ❞

There was NOTHING but an amused glare into deeply wine colored eyes as he stared at the valuable chess partner that sat across him, after all, he has heard so many different types of whining coming from the man and each were less genuine than the other. . .

he expected nothing less from DAZAI OSAMU but a beautiful canon that had a starter point followed by countless imitations of it, at some point you might even forget what even was the dux point except that all sounds that come after it are no more than just that : an imitation with different tones to it.

there was nothing but glare at the other, before a hum escaped those thin lips followed by an amused chuckle as he finally closed his eyes in thought, carefully picking his cards on what needed to be said.

❝ Your melody, as charming as it is, don't carry much power at the moment. . . Maybe it's about time for you to change the tune, I might change my reactions to match your tempo, Dazai-Kun. ❞

[avichor]

she'd been the ideal human, she thought. never did anything colossally horrible and unforgivable, never mistreated her body, followed the rules, stayed in her lane — and what did that get her ? a body with tainted blood, a body with weakened muscles that would disintegrate, a ticking time bomb for a brain. all that work in maintaining some form of perfection, in trying to please the higher powers that be, just to get stuck with the short end. the days were filled with past year, of all the regrets and what - ifs, if she'd just blew up her own life for the sake of her own happiness. if she'd just given up on the mundane and safety for excitement and liveliness. it was packing two decades of missed opportunities into a short - term race. one that she wasn't even sure she could finish. the voices whispered in her head at a pace she couldn't even begin to decipher, to separate them enough to make sense of it all, and then came along him. the ability to silence even the worst of it, to give her something tangible to fixate on. she'd called upon a force to accept her as is, and the signs pointed to him.

you should have hit harder. yes, she should have. always with the should - haves, and just yet another thing she could not have completed to full success. yet, not an utter failure, the stinging and pulsing in her hand enough to temporarily draw her focus away from the internal ache that'd yet to cease. wonders of the brain. when her fist had been released of its hold, her fingers uncurled, revealing deep crescents in her palm, she could almost breathe again. as though it held the oxygen captive there, depriving herself what she needed. there was an air of frustration that was rising within, and if she just allowed herself to feel it further, it would result in tears welling up in her eyes. but she wouldn't let it, had zero intentions of crumbling down in front of him. she'd worked just a bit too hard to cultivate this image of madness, it would have been for naught for a few tears spilled to have ruined it. “ you're not being fair. ” she grumbled, low huff escaping her lips. but she knew she was being a tad childish about it, certainly asking for more than she was expecting to even get in the first place. what sane person would have indulged her in this quest for violence ?

there was an ease to him that she hadn't yet figured out. something of a weighted feather, so light and yet so heavy with whatever it was that he carried with him, kept close. that spot on his cheek, shifting into a soft pink hue, in a faint outline of where her fist had been — it could have made a beautiful picture. and she would commit to memory. here lies nozomi. lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, and before she could say anything more out of pettiness, a poor attempt to get him to bend to her will, he was kissing her. he was kissing her and her head was spinning and she wasn't sure how every single time felt like the first time. how many times had it been since they met, she'd lost track. how many times had she craved for it as badly as the life that was slowly being stripped away — as infinitely possible. then it dawned on her, that he may not have returned the favor through his fist but it was knocking the wind out of her just the same, hit her with a force much harder than she'd done unto him.

stomach stirring, back of her neck growing hot, a jolt of energy traveling through the planes of her build, hitting every nerve - ending. it didn't matter that anyone could have been watching them, that they were stuck in their own bubble, claiming this sad excuse of a plot of land their space. latching onto his bottom lip in return, tongue lightly swiping over, lips parting as further encouragement, leaving no space as she took the initiative to deepen the kiss. the setting sun warm over their silhouettes, her fingers tightening around his shirt to pull him closer, releasing and sliding up to curl into tufts at the back of his head. heels lifted, a knowing smirk growing as she hooked her ankle over his to trip him backwards, an attempt to send them both tumbling towards the soft, itchy grass.

waiting, for the sting of a slap or the crack of knuckles meeting skin, had always been the worst part. keeping his eyes open was always something dazai reserved for low - life thugs that thought they could get the better of him, the lack of fear in his gaze replaced instead by something cracked, broken and pleading — hit me hard enough to finish me off, break the hold this world has on me and let me go, let me go, letmegoletmegoletmego. if they'd ever taken him up on the offer, dazai would have died gladly staring at false constellations, his own blood coating his tongue enough to make him choke on it. for nozomi, he granted her the privacy of working through her pain alone without his shattered stare giving him away and leaving him open and raw, letting his eyes fall shut where her gaze remained on him, heavy and warm, with his shoulders tensed in a show of anticipation, all for her benefit. “ not enough, maybe. ” words huffed in reply to her question, brows raising as if asking silently her to hurry. someone would have said it, once. maybe chuuya.

her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, it felt as though she held onto him the same way. but if dazai thought carefully about it, chuuya only ever held onto him, grip vice - like and searing so that dazai couldn't squirm out of reach and escape the angry swing of his fist. though, the two weren't nearly the same, he concluded, as dazai had no intention of missing the ache of her touch against him. even if the force behind her swing wasn't even nearly close to what he might have expected, he still allowed the impact to knock his head back and push the air from his lungs with a sharp grunt of acceptance. once the dull throb settled in his bones and he could feel the warmth creep into his skin in the shape of her fist, he peeled his eyes open and stood firm for the benefit of them both, shaking tousled strands out of his eyes and fixing her with an empty stare, then dragging it down to the fingers still clutching at his shirt, now wrinkled under the weight of her touch and keeping him close, her fist still formed and raised when he dragged his gaze to it, skin as red and as angry as he could feel radiating from her form.

people rarely held their grip on him like that, content to let him slip through their fingers into his own void - like nothingness, dazai content to let them lest they somehow find themselves wrongly thinking it meant something to him. when crafting the nature of someone else's pain he had always found that if you wanted them to feel it, to truly understand the weight of the pain etched into your own soul, the most common thing was to drop them just to bring them back again, over and over, fingers curling and uncurling against fabric and fist meeting flesh in a bloodied mess, until you were satisfied. in mindless anger, in the emptiness of his hollowed soul, that was all dazai had known and all he had taught himself, how to latch onto a thing and make it the canvas for the visceral pain coursing through his skin in the hopes it would somehow leech out of him — it never did, and he held no reservations to the known fact that it would be no different for nozomi, despite the gently spoken request to go again.

her name on his tongue sat like it belonged there, in the time they had spent together he had heard it in so many different variations that he feared, for the first time, that if she ran out he might never hear it again. one more time. he dragged carmine gaze, shining with the last remnants of evening sun back to her face and flickered over it with practiced ease before meeting her eyes, pouring words through a simple look that otherwise he wouldn't say. “ should've hit harder. ” though dazai thought about simply letting her, but his words instead sounded like no, like enough. like something he had never been told and otherwise didn't know how to say. or you can do me. in another life, dazai wouldn't have questioned it, would have taken the offer without thinking if she deserved it, if it would make the world a little easier to bear, if in pain he would somehow find his place in the world carved out in blood and marrow. his hands would have served to hurt her, where now they instead crept into the space between them once more, one pressing the backs of his fingers to the heat of his face, corners of his lips twitching in a congratulative smile, that she had hit her target square on the mark despite his dislike for the ache that then persisted in forcing him to be real. slowly, for what felt like an eternity the other reaching for her raised fist, and with a punched out sigh taking it into his hand and unfurling it gently before his touch disappeared altogether, only for his palms to find the contours of her jaw, chilled to the touch where the sun had all but left them in comfortable darkness, bringing her ever closer with words spoken into diminishing space. “ my turn ? ” another everlasting stretch of time taken for his gaze to flicker between her eyes and lips before they crashed together in something that said, pain doesn't always have to hurt, the kiss starting with the messy clink of teeth, a lip bitten between them before it softened just slightly, the slide of their mouths met with an all - too familiar urgency that they pressed into one another each time they met, like this.

[ahrabaki]

dazai finds himself in a very precarious position as he hears the sound of chuuya's door unlocking, because he most certainly did not enter through it, instead choosing an unlatched window (which he deems less a matter of forgetfulness but rather expectation). he has, for the last hour, taken pleasure in moving around bits and pieces of chuuya's décor, when he actually came to sneakily drop a gift onto his kitchen counter, which he is now about to be caught red - handed with, grinning sheepishly and half trying to hide himself behind the kitchen counter, to no avail. “ heh, surprise ! merry christmas ? you're early ? ” spoken in a tone which sounds a lot like, what are you doing here ? despite the fact dazai is the intruder. “ this is all a hallucination. pretend you never saw me. because it isn't happening. ”

the feigned annoyance and exhaustion that would have usually manifested in the form of tired eyes and a heavy sigh had yet to make an appearance, largely from the bouts of excitement that'd been bubbling within him for the better part of his day. he thinks of him when he doesn't intend to, those abstract watercolors following the design hazy movements. ghost of a touch where he misses him most, a sickening revelation. chuuya is observant enough to spot the cracked open window of his floor when the car turns around the corner of the street, and he thinks nothing of it initially — he'd likely left it open after feeling too stuffy, but that spark of hope was nauseatingly taunting. he knows immediately when he opens the door that he is not alone. he doesn't need to see him yet to know for sure, but the not - so - light footsteps carry a familiar pattern, the skilled air of practiced invisibility. but he'd seen him before, he'd always see him now. still, he furrows his brows in a show of distaste, though poorly managed. “ y'know my schedule ? freak. ” he can't hide the way he practically laughs when he says this, finding the position more amusing than he'd like to admit.

he nears the kitchen, having already hung his coat and hat, fingers toying with the hem of his gloves as though he means to remove them, slight reveal of the bare skin underneath with a single swipe. he nearly hits the side of his hip over the corner of the small sofa, brows twitching with irritation. and then he begins to notice the small differences in the space around him. if he weren't already in a much better mood, he would've crashed out. he's quick when he gets around the counter with ease, and traces the gift with curiosity when he kicks at his ex - partner's shin. “ that was a hallucination, because i didn't kick you. ” small huff, he swats at his shoulder before reaching out to push him flat against the small wall behind, arm outstretched and fingers lightly wrapped around his throat. storms glared at him, this false anger easily discerned. “ what'dya wrap ? another bomb ? or somethin' fucked up and weird ... 'sit gonna unleash some fuckin' angry spirit to haunt me ? ” perhaps a poor move on his end, because in holding dazai there, reveals the sparkly, bright red, neatly wrapped present hanging in his inner - shirt pocket. for him. “ you're terrible with surprises. i oughta toss your gift in the garbage. ”

[hera1d]

if i had a nickel for every time i was in the vicinity of someone who wanted to cleanse the world with the aim of easing pain and suffering but the solution was to put the world THROUGH pain and suffering and war, id have two nickels. weird that its happened twice though

every time i speak to you i contract a disease

[ahrabaki]

why he took it upon himself to insert his nose in every single tenant's business — absolutely beyond him. and beyond his partner, though this was less secret than anything else, something he'd repeatedly poked at. there was an air of anxiety that shrouded him in a thick, suffocating embrace, tightening as his grip on whatever semblance of control slipped through his hands. and he'd already had little of it to begin with. it was easy to blame the bandaged freak for all his cause of misery, that if not for him, they wouldn't be there in the first place, that the two of them together were simply a beacon for bad luck. yet, in the solitary of their forced isolation, he would rather fend with nobody else but him. it was impulsive, all of it. from the moment they'd decided to move in, to the impromptu investigations, to playing puppet for the government. it bothered him not to have the full story, to be kept in the dark as the outside world continued to move forward without them, inspected and spied upon, test subjects to poke and prod. for the sake of keeping that storm of his at bay, and to maintain whatever composure he'd pretended to have in front of the tenants, he would play nice.

ever the over - thinker, the over - planner, the over - doer, he'd brought more than enough blankets, tarps, and various linen material to keep a city heated. no particular reason in mind for their use, but they'd proven helpful, either way. the past hour or so spent heeding requests to hand out their extras, blacking out the windows and doorways to better insulate, and getting nothing in return but sighs of expectancy, as though his favor was owed, as though his presence was an inconvenience. the smaller part of him wanted to let them freeze, purely to satiate that spite within. most of them didn't deserve jack shit. but they were all scared. and scared humans behaved no different than rabid animals.

the cold hardly affected him, but the air was particularly sharp at this time, temperatures dropping at a concerning pace he hadn't yet accepted. he ignored the chill creeping down his spine as bare skin braced the sharp hit of the incoming wind, muscles tightening, and instead sought warmth beside dazai. he'd forgone giving him shit for being out there in the first place. there was a hint of peace outside that the inside had lacked. some delusion of open space despite the free - ranged cage. settling comfortably, or as comfortably as he could, he'd continued to gently caress his hand with friction, and then holding at rest over his lap. “ of course you'd wanna make a pact. ” he huffed, shoulders lightly rolling before he leaned the side of his face over his head, releasing a sigh. something he hadn't realized he'd been holding. “ and yuck, don't call me that. ” a snort, but there was a slight quirk to brims before he added, “ doesn't seem like it'll fuckin' matter if i agree or not. but yeah. agreed. ” he hadn't said it aloud, but he'd already prepared a contigency should he become compromised, should he fail. the last thing he would want is to leave him alone when he'd painstakingly and begrudgingly accepted that their fates were forever intertwined. scooting closer, he squeezed his hand. something of a warning. and something of a promise. “ don't worry, though. it's never gonna happen. i won't let it. 'sides, we already tested that you're not contagious. ” a poor attempt at a joke, the faded teeth marks where he'd bitten him to wake him up. “ tomorrow though, that fuckface is tryin'a get the tenants to go scavenger huntin'. i'm goin'. ” / @ninkaku

once the generators had been switched off from outside the quarantine zone, the last thing to seep out of the apartment was the heat. it didn't help that since the broadcast, dazai had sat on their balcony and spent the evening peeling pistachios out of their shells, throwing them over the side of the building and watching as the wind managed to pick up the lightest of them and carry them away, the ones with more mass falling onto some poor senior's space below, the absent tutting filtering back up to where he sat rooted to the spot, thinking and freezing. the charade stopped once he heard the front door open again, the velcro of a gun holster ripping and a thud from the weapon being placed down. shuffling footsteps sounding behind him into the kitchen and when he gave a small glance over his shoulder to confirm the familiar presence, dazai relaxed and turned his gaze back to the setting sun, the cascade of orange hues cast upon the clouds, lighting up the sky like a flare. against the partial white of remaining clouds, when he raised his hand to inspect the wound that had not healed nor worsened, he sighed. quite the predicament.

he wondered, absently running his thumb over the cut and feeling it warm under the touch, whether he would know if the insanity gripped him the way it did others. he felt no less sane than the average day, and if being kept like livestock for slaughter didn't do anything to worsen his mood, would he be able to tell if he started to truly lose his mind, or would he have to rely on the unseeing eyes of others to stop him biting out a throat or two, before it was too late? it might not even happen, dazai had to remind himself, because if the rate of infection is anything to go by, i have well and truly surpassed the timeframe allotted for the parasite to take hold, but i could be a late bloomer ... ⸺ a slap to the back of his hand ripped dazai from his thoughts, a breeze of flamed hair passing his peripherals as chuuya took up the space next to him as he hissed, warm touch pressed against him from their knees to their thighs. only when he saw the blanket covering chuuya's shoulders did he start to feel the early night's chill, shiver running through his spine and settling at the base of it before the other half draped around his own frame, enveloping him in warmth and the smell of their shared laundry detergent ⸺ chuuya's pick, much like the majority of the furnishings because he had wanted the place in the first instance, proclaimed he had the right eye for interior design, and dazai had been inclined to agree.

⅋ @chuyua . . . “ this is a one time thing. ”

words spoken and cracking the silence as dazai felt his marred hand picked up and placed between two warm palms. ah, so he notices. though he knew that, had always known that chuuya could read his mind if he looked closely enough. maybe that simple thought would be enough to warm him further, gaze coloured crimson in the setting sun boring holes into the contact before his head dropped to chuuya's shoulder with a drawn out sigh, bone deep and tired from the day spent chasing the apartment building's inhabitants around, trying to maintain a civil order and all but failing in every aspect, but the corners of it lifting just so with the contact alone. “ sure it is. i won't say a word when i feel those ice picks you have for toes pressing against my leg later. ” the gentle quiet that lay between them, the searing touch of chuuya's hands enveloping his own, it begged to be ruined, scarred, torn apart and broken as though undeserving of it. a puff of air from between his lips. “ we should make a pact, like they do in movies. ” too dangerous to seal it in blood, and dazai didn't feel much like mingling spit between their palms, so words of promise would have to suffice. “ whatever happens, if i start going mad, i'll tell you. i'm already half - way there, so take that as your pre - warning, mon petite officer. ” the gentle rub of their shoulders, dazai's free hand catching the blanket as it threatened to fall. chuuya his village, he would have to work to keep the blockade from failing. “ and you tell me. not like i wouldn't notice, but it's the thought that counts. mm ... agreed? ”

[sarastuss]

𝐐 : HOW DO YOU NEED TO BE TOUCHED? 𝐀 : GENTLY.

you need to be held as though you're going to break. you need someone to trace your scars like cracks in a wall, crumbling. their touch is almost painful ; you've been without it for too long, without someone to hold you. but, you cannot bring yourself to pull away.

tagged by : @palespawn &. @dellamuertos thanks for the pain :) tagging : @styrkja ( muse of your choice ) , @praesparo ( muse of your choice ) , @erebius , @reawaken ( muse of your choice ) , @ninkaku , @azarathian &. anyone who wants to!!

[justsurvival]

name. keva

pronouns. he/xe but lately i’ve been lovin the no pronouns game icl

preferred comms. discord + i need you to bump messages if i havent responded because i will forget and i admit that it is on me

name of muse. there’s like 99 of them if you count my canons and ocs and uh well. this is why i will directly call out which characters i am feeling the most in my pinned. kisses xoxo

experience in RP. let me take you back to 2011 if you will allow me ……. me and several of my irls were doing some silly roleplay thing in an imsg gc. moved on to kik. was on instagram for a while. twitter (but the tumblr kind) during the height of the pandemic. oc & shadowhunters tumblr blogs circa 2015-2018. groups on tumblr on/off from 2016. cycling through multis and single muses since about 2021. most recent non-multis i’ve had…. kim dokja (orv), the kaul siblings + anden (greenbone saga), caleb widogast (cr), nico di angelo (rrverse), a couple iterations of shion, an iteration of sylvain + some of their siblings, & a couple others that i’m forgetting. generally i’ve always been most comfortable writing ocs & canons from niche media/media with a smaller rpc.

best experiences. 2020-2021 was terrible for a number of reasons but it was Fun sometimes. met a few friends i still talk to and are very dear to me. i am definitely happier now(?) because i am more comfortable curating my own space and setting boundaries even if i lack the deeper dynamics i had back then.

pet peeves / dealbreakers. i do not care if people “use me” for a certain canon or gender presentation of character as long as they respect and understand the character and the way i write them. i do not care for mindless performative behavior. i do not care for vagues. i do not care for facechasing or forceshipping. if i am uncomfortable i will take it into my own hands and soft/hard block. i do care that my boundaries are respected and that you care for my character past their face / a ship / etc. i do care that my characters of color are not ignored. i do care that my transgender characters are not ignored. yes this is bare minimum.

muse preference (angst, fluff + smut). generally i’m best with angst. my fluff needs to be flavored as hurt/comfort or have some sort of direction or i get bored/disinterested. i usually need some sort of direction for most threads as i’m not great with purely introspection/philosophizing without some plot movement or action. i actually think i’m pretty good with action scenes (as in fighting/sparring/etc). i’m ok with writing smut! you are welcome to approach me for it but i do prefer to have an established rel prior to exploring it.

plots or memes. both!! memes are good for jumping off/starting interactions/testing the waters but i do need some substance with it so i prefer that if you send a meme, to please message me afterwards if you’d like to expand. i lose interest on just back and forth memes without a plot.

are you like your muse. a few but not many. i put bits and pieces of myself in my muses. i don’t think any of my muses are a whole lot like me — canon and oc included.

tagged by. @ninkaku (ty!!)

tagging. you my friend who is reading this :)

[avichor]

name. macy pronouns. she / her preferred comms. discord but only after chatting a bit on tumblr dms to suss out vibes unless we've interacted a lot on dash name of muse. literally my entire roster . and no it is not getting trimmed idk how to do that //: experience in RP. i started tumblr rp in 2019 but i was on fb rp since like. 2009? best experiences. h8 to say it but when i joined the desc rpc in late 2019 it was probs the highlight of my rp experience on tumblr, purely bc i was just so new to tumblr rp and naive and excitable so i looked past a lot of things i wouldn't tolerate now. it was the most involved rpc - wise i'd ever been — co-owned a server, created and joined events, actually had sm fun that i haven't really been able to replicate ( but i think it's a given with how much my irl has changed and the time i can even spend on tumblr rp ), and then decimated that rpc :D joining grishaverse rpc is a close second, and then my time writing vincenzo was my last source of unbridled joy ;p outside of rpc experiences, it was the long - lasting friendships and relationship formed. pet peeves / dealbreakers. i have a lot and i've stopped pretending that i don't for the sake of making everyone happy or appearing "nice" or "peaceful". there's a lot of highly questionable behavior that goes on in the rpc ( that goes ignored bc people like to "its just rp let people have fun" ) that it doesn't really stop at pet peeves or dealbreakers for me but rather smth i think really needs to be fixed. anyways most of them can be found in my rules within the dni section! but lack of communication is a huuuuuuuuge pet peeve. also lack of taking accountability, victim - mentality, people who aren't normal about duplicates, people who are freaks, etc. muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ). none as a singular ?? i get bored with just fluff, i get distraught with too much angst, and i get tired of pure smut ( i'm also just extremely picky with who i'd write actual smut with, it's only one person ). i do prefer threads that are actionable in some sense, when it's purely philosophical discussions or mostly introspection i check out reeeeeaaaal fast. plot or memes. both! but given my lack of energy and time, memes have been really helpful as a tool for me to get to things without relying on active plotting. but ultimately i would like to plot so we have something that works longterm. long or short replies. both! it really depends on the substance because there could be novella type threads that. don't do much, and short threads that actually pack quite a lot into what's written. best time to write. night <3 are you like your muse. the muse types i go for have been less predictable lately, but previously i would gravitate towards baddie fems and clown mascs, some vein of mentally ill, and i think that kinda perfectly encapsulates me as a person. i am a baddie ( real ) and i am very stupid.

tagged by. stolen from @starspurn <3 tagging. @ninkaku , @adamanteine , @bllakcat , @prryhic . @gritandgear , and whoever hasn't done this !!

[miridicalkalon]

10 RANDOM HEADCANNONS

(link for generator here)

I. ᅠ〝 Atsushi almost drank the lethal dosage of caffine once. there's a reason Atsushi is a tea drinker over coffee, I will say yes and it was the worse mistake of his life!!

II. ᅠ〝 Atsushi can't handle criticism. He can handle it, but know he will overthink it for the rest of his life. even the smallest criticism will become 20xs worse in his head. Atsushi will be crying about this later. :)

III. ᅠ〝Atsushi got hit by a bus once. No, but with his luck. don't put it past you, it might be in the next chapter or arch.

IV. ᅠ〝 Atsushi wakes up on November 1st and starts decorating for Christmas. And kyoka, Kenji, Kyusaku, Tanizaki, anyone who wants is absolutely helping him. yep, he loves Christmas now!

V. ᅠ〝 Atsushi is oblivous to any and all romantic interest someone may show them. I mean— yeaaah, he'll assume any and all romance gestures are just friendly unless you straight up tell him or doing the most obvious flirting.

VI. ᅠ〝Atsushi doesn't know how to say "no". He absolutely does, unless you're kyoka or kenji or etc. lmao he will absolutely tell you no for any reason.

VII.ᅠ〝Atsushi believes in Santa. listen . . . . I want to say no. I really do, but that'd be a lie.

VIII. ᅠ〝 Atsushi watches My Little Pony. Friendship IS magic, Fyodor Dostoevsky!

IX. ᅠ〝Atsushi has a diary that they write in with a glittery gel pen. Atsushi refuses to say because he has a very noisy partner at the desk next to him named dazai.

X. ᅠ〝Atsushi knocks people over by hugging them. Kunikida is the victim of this yes. not even a headcannon just yes.

Tagged by : @ninkaku ( Thank you for the tag this was fun! )

Tagging: @theircurse ( any of your accounts! ) @kaizokugaris, @metancy , @lovehungered , @lovcn, @diianxie, @huagushi, @phasmascript, @sekayuki , @fuginro + whoever would like to join! feel free to!

[avichor]

the sound of rain pattering over the roof of the car would have been relaxing if not for the lack of steadiness in its descent, the rhythm off and akin to nails on a chalkboard. no story or rhyme to their dance, simply chaos. and it did nothing to settle the unease in her chest, that pesky organ beating and twitching as though it struggled to break through the cages, rebellious in nature. slender digits twirled the ends of teal locks, watching as the dim lighting of the car reflected off the tips, other hand comfortably placed over the flat of the concealed folder, silver tassel looped around securely. she'd rather not be out and about, away from the home base, despite being under the port mafia's care, meeting time and location under her control. how generous. she hardly reacted when the guff of wind hit in her face at his entrance, car shaking as he adjusted and settled, ignoring the sounds of wet fabric rubbing over the leather, the scent of wet dog filling her nostrils. “ dazai. ” almost a whine, caught in her throat. “ you didn't try to keep yourself dry, from the looks of it. or the smell of it. ” she blinked, finally shifting her gaze to focus on him, taking in the wet locks that'd curled from the rain, some droplets still sliding down his face. releasing her hair, she lowered her hand to subtly flick away stray droplets that'd landed over her arm. ivories bit down over crimsons as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and tossed it in his direction. “ cafes have big windows. and i don't want to be stuck with the bill for whatever you get. ” shifting in place, legs crossed at the knee as she undid the loop of the tassel to pull out one of the files from the folder. “ wasn't us — ” photographs attached to the page, license plate numbers, the lot of it. “ some doofus forgot to report it to inventory that one of the cars weren't logged after check - in. ”

  ▍ CASE FILE . . . BEI, USHI ⤻ @leventar .

something had to be said for the simple fact that the sky seemed to reflect the gravity of most situations. a dark cloud had settled itself above yokohama's skyline, swallowing the higher floors of the city's pillared towers in a dense fog, rain pooling in the streets mere hours into its stay. in the absence of a crack in the gloom, night fell quickly and only served to aid in whatever secret meeting ushi had taken it upon herself to orchestrate, a message of coordinates and timestamps having disturbed dazai's plans for a quiet evening pondering if the usage of cable ties made for a good enough method of strangulation. probably for the best, as the more he thought about it, barely seeking shelter from the rain as he hopped around puddles in the car lot, the more he remembered the irritating sensation of plastic rubbing against the skin of his wrists, which would be far less pleasant on the neck. another useless notion tossed out of the window as dazai located her car, the port mafia's licence plate all too memorable, and clambered inside, dripping all over the nice leather seats with an odd air of satisfaction and a squeak of his clothes as he settled. there was a reason he hadn't bothered to bring an umbrella. “ ushiiii ... ” blinking at her, the corners of his lips twitched upward in lieu of a proper greeting. “ looking well ... and dry. can't say the same for myself, or your car. ” a sad gesture to the puddle pooling beneath his form and a gentle shake of his hair, and if a few droplets managed to reach her, an added bonus. “ any reason we couldn't do this ... indoors? you know the ceasefire extends to cafes, yes? ”

[ragedagainst]

10 RANDOM HEADCANONS.

jyn desperately needs a hug but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one. (SOOOOOO true)

jyn has a deck of yogioh cards under their bed. (false but she does have a stack of weapons + emergency supplies)

jyn forgets to eat sometimes. (true and false - she sometimes will forget to eat if she's engrossed in something but she's also someone who has actually been starving before so consistent meals are important to her)

jyn is afraid to close their eyes in the shower. (uuhhh . no. false. she's fallen asleep in the shower before)

jyn fucked your mom. (true)

jyn likes board games, but no one else wants to play with them. (true she's competitive and she cheats)

jyn doesn't know how to say they're sorry. (TRUE)

jyn needs a nightlight to sleep. (sorta true she doesn't need a nightlight but she can't sleep in the pitch black darkness)

jyn has an incredible short-term memory but an awful long-term memory. (false she's got a good memory and is especially good with faces)

jyn is unemployed. (LMAO i mean. yeah i guess??)

stolen from: @ninkaku >:) tagging: @proditeur , @strnza , @deadmare , @prkh , @profecier , @guttcrson , and you !!