CONSCIENCE BURST.

SPEED: Assume that I’m on the slower side. Not because I don’t want to be here or because I’m not interested, but mainly for the fact that my job is pretty physically & mentally demanding and I use a lot of creative energy with them, so sometimes it leaves me exhausted here. Assume replies will take a few days to a few weeks. I try not to reach a month... I promise you, you’ll see some sort of content on here, whether it’s replies or asks.

REPLIES: It just varies depending on what I’m in the mood for. In general, I prefer multi-paragraph. I’ll do one-liners only if I cannot think of something to say, or if I don’t think the prompt requires a lot (i.e., a response to being pinched or something doesn’t need much more than “Ow!”). The more rapport we have as writers or the more defined our characters’ relationship is, the easier it typically is for me to write more versus less.

I don’t mind if you respond quickly vs if you take your time, I just ask that however quickly you respond that you do not expect me to match it. Even if I’m really excited about something, it’ll still just take me some time.

STARTERS: I occasionally do starter calls, but I find that for me personally? Not a lot of people take me up on them lmao. I have no preference on a plotted starter versus if you want to fling one at me, but I would truly ask that you ask me if my workload is okay prior to just throwing 28 starters at me at once. I also do enjoy a plotted starter if our characters haven’t interacted before, or for us to at least interact a bit before a starter is put up, because I find it’s rough on either party if someone writes a starter and then... it’s like ill-fitting to their character bc you were just writing blindly.

INBOX: Baymax vc: I am not fast. As long as you know that, feel free to send me whatever! Plotted things, unplotted things, random messages. Feel free to peruse my meme tag at any time. When my drafts are low, I’ll post a lot of inbox memes and when they’re high, then I’ll be a little...  discerning regarding when I post things. But truly as long as you’re willing to wait like a few days to a week for a response, I’ll get to it. I never close my inbox bc it makes me happy to see little notifs in there, so hit me up.

SELECTIVITY: I’m selective with who I follow, but I’ll write with people regardless of whether they’re following with me or not. My only request that if you’re not following me, that you reblog from the source, but otherwise... feel free to ask me about threads. I think there’s a lot of interesting people who follow me, and sometimes I might be interested in your muse  but I don’t know how to interact, or sometimes I just limit who all I follow from a particular fandom ‘cause I don’t like being wrapped up in fandom politics and discourse. I like to have a peaceful dashboard :)  My chronic illness flares based on trigger foods and also how much stress I deal with, so I work really hard to curate a space that’s safe for me. No offense to you. So if you want to interact and I haven’t reached out, I encourage you to at least say hello. :)

Also I’d like to say here that even though my muse may have originated from a specific fandom, I definitely don’t just belong to it. So... please interact with me in plenty of other ways. My modern verses are default after all :)

WISHLIST: My only wish is that you don’t assume Yufi is a kleptomaniac. :) She doesn’t steal unless it’s essential to her mission of restoring Wutai’s honor or some other noble cause depending on the verse. Seeing her reduced to this is one of my biggest pet peeves. Kyrie is a literal thief along with her grandma and even they’re spared this.

Also... please do modern things with her. Interact with her outside canon verses bc those aren’t my main ones. I want to explore more normal aspects of her... she’s an adult in my portrayal so let’s do something with that. Your muse is a demon slayer? Mythos? Pirate? Dancer? Let’s do it.

I wanna write friendships! And romantic ships. Maybe not so romantic but the tension is there! Even antagonistic! I wanna explore all varieties of writing with all sorts of people. So... let’s hang out? Please?

HONEST NOTE: Um... I know I’ve been told I can be a little stand-offish and I don’t really mean to be... so please let me know what I can do to be more... approachable, I suppose? And if I’m coming off too eager or you’re no longer interested, please let me know of that too. I don’t mean to offend, I really don’t. I don’t want to bother anyone.

it’s hard adjusting to the new school year (we legit only have 2 days in between school years), plus I’m in the middle of seeing a hypnotist for trauma/PTSD and my GI recommended I see a therapist... mainly to unpack what I’m doing with the hypnotist & also because if I can ease some of my anxiety + stress, my gut health should be better... IN THEORY.

this doesn’t even begin to go into intergenerational trauma + genetic trauma passed down by being indigenous + black, but y’know...doing something more than nothing about my PTSD is a start, I suppose. ( well, I do reiki... but y’know. )

obviously I would never abandon yufi..... she’s like my lifeblood. you’re welcome to send me hc’s and plot with me on discord... or play ffxiv with me, bc the extended free trial got me sucked into that wormhole.

my discord is ouroboros✯#6443 my twitter is ballads_

and I think that’s really all you need for the moment. as the school year like calms tf down, I get a handle on my own private studies + maybe I'll move!!! ( fingers crossed, I have places considered but I’m waiting to hear back from them! ), then I intend to come back here. kind of ambitious for sept/oct and I know that but... I'm a pretty ambitious person.

@drownblessed​ said: drunk :   my  muse  takes  care  of  your  muse  while  they  are  in  a drunken  state. 

Since this whole stay inside for your safety thing began, Yufi can’t say she’s been doing well. Not that there’s nothing for her to do at home; on the contrary, her commune has everything she could possibly want to do in it. There’s no reason to leave the neighborhood, or even the estate, when there are parlors for every type of entertainment. That’s the privilege of being elite, isn’t it, that most practical things can be at one’s fingertips should they desire it.

But that’s exactly what Yufi loathes. There’s no spontaneity, nothing that goes unexpected. Each day is a duplicate of another, the absolute same, into which all seems to blur into one another. It leaves her irritable, antsy, and even the usual tasks she utilizes to alleviate tension don’t seem to work. For when painting and walks have become the daily norm to fulfill the time, then their effectiveness in other properties ultimately diminishes.

She knows it’s risky, not necessarily the safest thing she could do, but when Godo asks what they can do as to remove the semi-permanent moping from her mouth, the response slides from her lips, smoother than the shochu she’s unraveled the cap from and is pouring into a cup.

Tida.

Who brings him to her, or whether it’s even explained to him why he’s been shipped from one end of country to another... All the fine details are unclear and unneeded, at least as far as she’s concerned. Most things are, and even the edge of her vision is a little blurred by the time he makes it to her side, door handle uncharacteristically warm from the amount of times Yufi’s checked every few moments to see if he’s arrived. She must’ve been there not too long ago, but when Tida enters he can find her roaming around the tatami clad in socks, an oversized shirt she swore to him she’d never wear (because how could a person of her caliber ever wear one of those anime shirts?), swooning from side-to-side. She takes a swig from plum wine, hand tightly grasped around the neck of the bottle, and spins on the ball of feet, albeit in uncoordinated fashion.  Her memory might be shaky, but the center of her focus is clear, and the host grins when she sees her friend’s arrived.

❝ Oh, hey! Welcome home! Or... hey, you know what I meant. You basically could live here. Nothing’s stopping you except you, y’know. ❞

Yufi’s been good in the sense that her phone’s been away from her reach this entire time (hard to keep it on you when you don’t have pockets, right?), but still, she points to where it idly sits on kitchen counter, notification indicator flashing to the rhythm of dance-beats escaping from Bluetooth connected speakers.

❝ I figured I should leave that there...otherwise I’ll look like... what do you call the girl on this shirt? Ahegao? All over your Snapchat. You didn’t want that, right? ❞

i’ve also been working on writing my own personal writing & designing a website for it. and studying for school. and teaching. and medical stuff. which, by the way, i’m a decent bill of health for once! now i can wait 3 months before the next appointment instead of monthly. gawd...

Night fills the room. It blots the starlight clinging to those neat corners by the crowning, slithering shyly like fingers down a lover in the dark – delicately, mesmerizingly, mapping those bumps in the gaps between their rib bones. Their lips in steady kisses. Their pulse’s hurried beats. Majima’s dizzy with it. Laid together, breathing staggered and bodies touch-warm, it feels to him as though the world’s gone romanticist, and they’re slotting together neatly like stanzas off a poem.

And, well, he isn’t much a guy for those prettier, more esteemed practices of poetry, but seeing Yufi so honest? It knocks Shakespeare down a level.

Read more.

He’s good at that, teasing, instilling breath back into her fire, knowing how to make her bite. Yet despite his moniker, she’s the one who yips, exposes canines, eyes slit cautiously, curiosity giving leeway to scrutiny. Yufi is not a beggar, nor is she one to whine, but only he makes her breathless and it’s like he thrives on that control. Perhaps she should be afraid she’s given him her leash.

Who are you calling for? You. Always you.

Her heart thumps a haiku, steady rhythm it’s almost syllabic. And isn’t this view a scene itself, this moment natural, almost destined? Skin like satin, shimmered with sweat and sensuality. Yufi’s never called herself a romantic, but in this instance she cannot help but revel in how there’s a light within her beaming, building, anxious to reach its crescendo, and Majima is but a god who allows her to shine. If she breaks for him, then she is certain that she will be mended anew, his kinsukuroi, made more priceless in his eye.

He compliments her. So damn pretty. She hisses through bitten tongue, serpent-like. He likes snakes, doesn’t he? Has them painted on his shoulders. She’s envious, as if she too won’t be splayed across his skin before long.

deciding to hit her with an espresso martini ——– one of which had very quickly become a house favourite once she put it on the menu, she quickly made a shot of the coffee with the machine before grabbing a martini glass from the back counter. upon hearing the comment about her hair, she raised a brow before turning her attention to the younger. ‘ it’s not that short… ’ it still reached midway down her back but she was right, it definitely wasn’t close in length to when they were travelling. ‘ i’m thinking of growing it again but i have to admit that it’s a lot easier to take care of like this. or should i just go the whole haul & go to your length? ’ a teasing smile offered her way before she grabbed the vodka and the shaker so she could mix it all together.

‘ i think the others would be a little freaked out if you suddenly came out with long hair & myself with short. ’ they’d assume it was a prank or something.

taking the small strainer, she allowed the mix to sieve through into the glass before adding three coffee beans on top and sliding it over to the other. ‘ how are things going over there? ’ she knew the ninja held a great deal of responsibility & things had certainly changed over the years.

Yufi snickers at the concept of their hair swap, and runs fingers through her own strands. It’s grown out some since the last they’ve seen each other, the ends brushing the tops of her shoulders, but truthfully enough their lengths aren’t comparable. That wasn’t always the case, though.  ❝ Then you all would be freaked if you came to visit sometime. I was growing my hair out for a bit. Just as long as yours is now! But then I cut it again when Reeve asked me to help out! And again when I got called out here to check things out. It’s so hard to keep up when I’m on the road. ❞

A slim finger slides along the perimeter of the glass. Nails flicker against the body, then the stem. Her glance shifts from the coffee beans to chocolate strands of Tifa’s hair, meeting those carmine eyes of hers properly as she lifts her head.

❝ It is starting to look like a real country. Not just another Wall Market full of tourist traps anymore, and the medical tents are all gone. It took us a long time to recover from geostigma, y’know? Especially since everyone was still so mistrusting of me... but I guess that’s what happens when you’re always gone, y’know? It’s hard for people to recognize you. And I hadn’t really been home since... ❞

Since she was Marlene’s age, truth be told. Could Tifa really imagine that, though? Yufi knows that Tifa left Nibelheim at quite the early age, and it’d been easy for them to bond over such a thing, the idea of rebelling youth and hatred against the Shin-Ra. But if Tifa only knew how far the spite had spread within her, how young she’d been with the seeds had been sewn... would she have done anything differently?

It wasn’t Yufi’s place to tell. Not her family. The words die on her tongue. She swallows them down with a swig of her drink. It’s bitter, tangy, the taste of espresso strong. She’s not complaining-- it’s just another example of different that Yufi’s learned over time. There’s so much that separates her from her and the gang. She thinks that’s why Vincent keeps his space, save for his whole I’ll-follow-Shelke-anywhere schtick. She gets it, it’s his one link to Lucretia. But it’s still weird.

“Oh, well, I’m not sure about special, per say. I was given a selection of weapons to familiarize myself with in my training and I liked Rekka the best. I just do my job, I don’t have any particular feelings one way or another towards Wutai.”

A selection of weapons? Hm. Though truth be told, perhaps Yufi shouldn’t be surprised to hear such a thing. For anything can truly be sold underground...for a price, and perhaps to the most curious of ears, especially those with a profound hatred for the Company, the sounds of weapons crafted by they who openly opposed the Nation might sound appealing.

She is still uncertain of what she hears, but Yufi surmises that the excuse is passable. To pry further would require her to speak openly about her own tale, and a ninja knows never to reveal one’s information.

at least there was no shortage of options .     whilst haunted woods and graveyards are not a particular discomfort , trespassing ‘pon the grounds of past war was .     any restless men that fought , they were likely there ; not all but some and that was enough .     the world was loud enough as it is .

‘     there is so much for me to learn about wutai …     ‘     in just the few minutes every word the ninja spoke was very interesting .     the maiden could recite the definition of what a whirlpool is , she’s seen a picture here and there in books , but in person she wonders what the phenomenon actually looks like in motion ; or even the sound .

in all , since they had no aircraft , the bridge it would be .     heights are not a certain fear of hers , but that did not make them any less intimidating .      ‘     i guess so … and the bridges are secure , you think ?     ‘ 

Perhaps to those who show no sensitivities to those beyond the living, the alternate would’ve been indeed options. Yufi can imagine the likes of Cloud and Cid perusing through the forests of the dead without discomfort. To Tifa and Barret, however, who show a healthy reverence for their fallen comrades, and a fear to all the rest, it would’ve been merely unsettling. But to she who can hear the screams of the planet’s fallen, to call it distressing is indeed understated, and Yufi finds herself glad that the option is avoided.

For she, too, is sensitive to those who have left-- though this is topic unnecessary to be mentioned. There is much to be desired when it comes to Yufi’s ability to be forthcoming. Yet there is something about Wutai which reveals one’s heart, one’s true intentions, and that can be no different for its crown jewel, its designated maiden.

That, too, has not been revealed to party as of late.

❝ I know as much about the bridges as you know about Wutai, ❞  the youth admits, no hesitation present in her voice. For there are few locals who feel desire to leave outside the congregated living spaces which all surround the capital city. Those bridges were links to an outside world, once-- but those connections were trampled long ago, and those who leave the countryside do so at their own peril. The War was symbolic, a representation of Wutai versus the World. They had lost. They were alone. And those who would leave their home risked losing their lives, if not to the rocky shores and wild adamantoise, then to those who would not accept them.

while i try really hard to be cognizant of everyone’s pronouns and pennames, i apologize if i’ve accidentally misgendered you or if you feel uncomfortable with y’all or they. i tend to use singular ‘ they ’ as my default to refer to anyone, but i do attempt to check with people’s specific pronouns when i’m referring to an individual in question.

if i accidentally use ‘ they ’ and you hate it, please let me know. though i am american (black and indigenous: cherokee & blackfoot), i know my english is not the best. i grew up with american english, aave, gaelic, and cherokee all being spoken (my great-grandmother also had some weird need to make me be aware of british spelling too but i really don’t use it outside of knowing what my english friends are talking about lmao). they do not all prioritize the same grammar rules. also with having two-spirit in my culture, he/she wasn’t normalized. that doesn’t mean i won’t utilize it if you’re specifically asking, bc i want to respect all of my followers’ individual identities, but that’s just context on my background.

i’m really strong on accountability & i want to let y’all know that as hard as i may go on the dash at times, i definitely am also harsh on myself & am always striving to improve. just because english isn’t the only language in my repertoire (i use spanish and khmer at work, and khmer with my adoptive family-- french and biblical hebrew have taken a backseat, sorry!!), that doesn’t excuse me from accidentally offending someone.

but also, be aware that i personally use singular ‘ they ’ when i’m speaking generally, despite the fact that english grammar classes suggest using ‘ he or she ’ or picking one gender and sticking with it throughout one piece of writing. i personally feel like using one gender is exclusive to any other identities who might be reading, and he or she is also exclusive, and also just sounds awkward at times... 

regardless of my personal thoughts on prose, i promise to do my best to be adaptive to y’alls specific needs, and i apologize if i’ve accidentally offended someone & y’all have just been too nice to tell me.

It’s not that he even minds the flowers in his hair,  he’d certainly enjoyed the attention.  Aerith’s touch had been gentle,  soothing and Lea will admit ( to no one but himself ) that there’d been quite a few times he’d almost dozed off under her ministrations.  If only it wouldn’t be so much of it —– the amount of stuff in his hair makes it look like more flower than anything else and the sensation has gone from enjoyable to irritating real fast, things snagging at his scalp, tugging too hard at the roots.  

Still, he puts a gamely face on for the camera, small smile adorning his features as Yufi snaps away.  His hands wander and tug to relieve the pressure now and again, but he’s being good about not moving too much lest the results come out too blurry.  In return, Yufi gets her pictures done fast,  his shoulders sagging in relief the minute she seems satisfied and moves over to help him remove all of it. 

A soft huff escapes his lips,  pout forming at the news it’s going to take a while;  he can only imagine the amount of knots he’ll have to comb out to make it presentable again.  “ Fuck if I know.  Swear I only zoned out for a minute and came back to her tryin’ t’ cultivate an entire forest up there.  Or a bird’s nest, maybe? “ He wouldn’t put it past her to pull a cheeky little stunt like that,  mind already going over all the options open to him to get some payback.  “ Somethin’ to watch would be good, I guess.  We still got some snacks in the kitchen. “

❝ Alright, then. I’ll let you go and pick whatever on the TV. And... I won’t judge, I swear. ❞  Not that Yufi minds the shows Lea selects on television on any regular day. She doesn’t know enough about whatever is airing to have a real decision on it. Sometimes she’s honestly confused by whatever is going on, whether it is an extreme baking competition or an amateur obstacle course or an over-dramatic retelling of a story, and asks questions about the narrative portrayed. Lea must not mind too much, she thinks, because he always takes the time to explain the exposition or purpose of the show. As long as she enjoys them, Yufi figures that’s the most important part-- even though she recognizes it as nothing less than weird.

While she leaves him to go peruse whatever he wants from the pantry, Yufi is scrambling into their shared bedroom to find various hair accessories to make this job easier. Brushes, fine-tooth combs, hair clips to section things out, scrunchies (what? he does have a lot of hair). But then, figuring she could use all the help she could get, she slips into the bathroom to grab his scented conditioner, too. Whatever works, right? If she was going to be so kind to help him with his hair and not complain about his shows, he could just accept the process in which she chose to do so.

Finally, remembering that hair can be easier to detangle when wet, she grabs a spray bottle she often uses to mist the plants in their windowsill. Her hodgepodge of haircare is carefully dropped onto a side table on the side of their sofa, and Yufi sits with legs astride, prepared for Lea to sit on the floor and leaned between them. She even tosses one of their throw pillows on the ground for the extra cushion.