this blog is obviously very new so I still have a lot to do. Better rules page, add the rest of the muses, tags.. pretty much everything. Please be patient with me! Thank you!

* ･ﾟ✧ 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍.

my name is river, previously rowan. i’ve been around here and there for about a decade now. i use all pronouns so don’t worry about how to address me. i am 27 years old and i do request any followers be at least 20 years of age for my own personal comfort. although i don’t smut often, nsfw isn’t off the table.

* ･ﾟ✧ 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆.

this is a roleplay blog for various characters. this blog is SPOILER friendly. I do try to keep an eye on not blasting spoilers in reblogs but I can’t avoid them in my own writing sometimes depending on development.

* ･ﾟ✧ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐆𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍 & 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌.

twitter ✧ pinterest ✧ spineas ✧ discord available to mutuals

* ･ﾟ✧ 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐑.

 THE BATTLE SHE FOUGHT HAD NO WINNER, trying to pry manicured nails between the folds of plastic to free her prize as she sat, knees tucked up to her chest, baggy clothing hung from her lithe form — she was the picture of man, all the grime of the day clinging to her as she, unfocused, peeled plastic back; it opened, freeing a hand to wipe smeared lipstick from her cheek.

  “Jakurai?” Hifumi mumbles ( IN THE INTIMACY OF THE MOMENT, honorofics lost ), teeth biting down into the bar she’d finally managed to free; his hand extends to her and she, like  a deer in the headlights blinked and stared. OH!

The snack is placed aside and Hifumi hops to her feet, slipping a delicate hand into the one outstretched — dance, bare footed in the small apartment with fluorescent lights  bearing down upon the UNDONE HOST, hardly the picture of beauteous perfection he painted her in.

BUT HE KEEPS PAINTING, DOESN’T HE, curling his fingers around hers as she pulls herself to his chest, resting her cheek in the crook of his neck. THE CLINICAL SMELL of bleach and antiseptic mingled poorly with her perfume, jasmine fighting a losing battle against hospital, but there’s COMFORT in the clean for her. ( BECAUSE HE’S THERE, and she can’t admit how much that comforts her. )

“Aren’t you tired~?” Breathy, into his collarbone. “There’s no music, anyway!”

                The way her breath washes over the bare skin at his neck would have left a weaker man trembling, and here with her - perhaps he was not at his strongest to begin with.  ❝ Hm? You don’t hear it? Listen closer. ❞ The man holds her tight against his chest, one hand draped respecftfully around her waist, and the other still laced against Hifumi’s own. Jakurai leans his cheek against the crown of her head and closes his eyes.

                They were winners. Fighters. Champions. They were broken ribs and sputtering wounds. This world turned them into teeth and claws and it was in the single, softer moments like these - he would have given anything to make the rest of the world melt away around them. Jakurai holds her like a holy thing, the last lifeline to a heaven that was never meant for the likes of him. But she makes him feel like maybe it could have been. 

              She makes him feel; she makes him feel; she makes him - 

                The only sound in the room is the padding of his slippers against the tile, shallow breath, and the heartbeats in his ears. The man shifts, only enough to press his lips over where his cheek had been resting previously. He lingers, smiling as he breathes in the scent of her like a dream he was trying to make last. A dream that was slipping through his fingers with every passing day. 

                It’s after midnight, long since his guest should have departed, long since he should have retired for the night. What was the use? To stare up at the sterol ceiling? Hadn’t he seen enough sterol things, buildings, objects, people in the thirds he had just escaped? The seconds are ticking by and he counts them like heartbeats. One. Two. Three. But whose heartbeat are you counting, yours or hers? 

                He watches with the barest hint of the most genuine smile Jakurai’s face had seen in weeks, as Hifumi battles with an energy bar wrapper. She had already been picking at one - no doubt only because Jakurai would scold her if she didn’t eat something despite it being her day off. She was hardly anything sterol with smeared lipgloss - still stained on from the shift prior, golden glitter tipped with winged eyeliner that had long since begun to run and smudge. With unkept hair and swallowed in one of his hoodies, she was fucking beautiful. 

                Caged heart beats, RATTLES AGAINST HER RIBS as the girl stalks through the night - less lion than PREY in the shadows where not even the light of the moon could reach her. Nemu’s fingers curl against the bracelet she wears at the soft of her wrist that is concealed under her brother’s old jacket; S T O L E N . It is a nervous tick she had long since picked up. The artifact is a prayer, a promise made to them by the very woman who broke it. Still, the orphaned child demands to find solace in it. 

                She moves silently through the back alleyways like a feline, sticking to the shadows as best she could. Though she is just as dangerous as any motherfucker out there - there are more things that go bump in the night than monsters. Her father had taught her that. She was a spitfire with a tongue like a knife - but knives were child’s play with the newer mics these days. And somethings never changed - this may be a woman’s world now - but not out here. Not in the lion’s den. Not when you’re the younger sister of the notorious gangsters that ran these streets. 

@peftei​ .

            “ Jakurai, ”

    SNAPPED LIKE LEAVES ‘NEATH BOOTS, ( RED EYED, EVERY BREATH A HICCUP BETWEEN STOLEN WORDS ) Hifumi, Hifumin, HE ( for everything he is still now, guts spilt on the stage ) bent - knee and desperate. HE’S ON HIS KNEES NOW, TOO, IN FRONT OF JAKURAI who sits calmly in his chair, staring down at his small form as it trembles like a fucking glacier splitting away from it’s mass.

    Me, MYSELF, I, I, I, I, I, I DON’T WANT TO TELL YOU —

    LIKE HE THOUGHT HE COULD KEEP IT SEPARETE, how he compartmentalises his reactions ( KITTEN, KILLING, CAUGHT, COFFIN ) into separate sections of his mind, hands clasped TIGHT around each word chosen perfect per persona; LIKE SACCHARINE SWEET, fizzing on his tongue like champagne — but it’s cheap and tastes like sick now, back up through his throat as his arms curl into themselves pulled tight around his shaking form. The suit crinkles.

    Like chipped armour; what could it protect?

    HE FUCKED IT UP, HE FUCKED IT UP, is he going to kick him out? Make him leave? Could he stand to lose another place he belonged? — COULD HE STOMACH OPENING UP LIKE THAT? 

              “ I didn’t mean to, I — ”

                The night is young but he is spent. Blood and dirt scrape his cheek which is all he has left to BOUND HIM right here to this moment. The battle is over and they have fought well, DESPERATE, determined. They will be champions once more - for what choice do they have this time ?

                He is pulled once more from his thoughts by ANOTHER PRAYER at his feet, tears of the begging coating his boots. He is no longer a killer but the scene is the same - a man begging for his life. A man about to be struck down where he stood. Sweat bleeds like HOLY WATER on furrowed brow as he stares down at the man from where he sits, THRONED LIKE A GOD. He is about to open his lips to speak, throat still searching for what words to follow when he is silenced by his own name. Never had he heard it spoken like this off golden tongue. This wasn’t the usual breakdown, but why should he be surprised? They were all feeling it out there. Something changes under pressure - something different had become of matenrō on this night.  

                ❝ Hifumi-kun, please. You have to breathe - ❞ words trail off as he recalls the words that Hifumi had cried in front of millions out there. Every word the doctor and Doppo had breathed had been true but it was clear this one hit FAR CLOSER TO HOME than Hifumi had intended. He reaches out, palm searching for somewhere to land and falling to the male’s shoulder. No, not quite. Shifting forward, the man’s touch moves and guides along the curve up to Hifumi’s cheek. The other hand reaches and mirrors himself until he is cupping the trembling host’s face within his HOLY PALMS. 

@mcbigbro  * ･ﾟ✧ softer prompts

                Lie. The thought came easy, flowed like A POISON through her mind which was enough to unstable her. Lie to him. Tell him what he wants - need to hear. A smile spreads over Nemu’s face, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. ❝ Of course everything will be okay, he’s just in a mood lately. I’m sure it’s nothing besides, don’t tell me you’re getting soft? ❞ 

                There was a light hint of amusement in her teasing but the woman’s mind was hundreds of miles away, racing, as she leaned down to help Ichiro out of the dirt and dust. A bruise was already starting to BLOOM LIKE A ROSE over his cheek. Still, she stopped to inspect the hit with fingers like lace tracing over the skin of his face. Her brother really did have a fist for a mouth, irony aside. Despite poking fun at Ichi only seconds prior, Nemu had fallen quiet - hoping he wouldn’t notice as she pried through her own thoughts and memories. 

patron of tough love

let it be known: you do not stand by and approve of those who actively seek to hurt the ones they claim to love. but just because it is love, does not mean that it will always be soft. think of how a pack of wolves operate: strategic, deliberate, protective, entirely capable of ripping out throats and still raising their young with a burning love. think of the promise of safety in such a group, but also the devastation, should you betray its loyalty and upheave the order in place. you are the god of temperance, of caretakers, and of all those who must carry the weight of responsibility, even when it threatens to crush them dead. god of bending and enforcing rules, god of fair trial and punishment, god of breaking vicious cycles. protector of older siblings and of soft things needing thicker skin. deliverer of hard-fought clarity in a fit of rage, weaver of reason into discipline. you teach them how to be strong, to be consistent, in a world that demands them to choose cruelty. the grantor of armistice at the end of a long war, the one who blesses the hardened and makes them rest.

tagged by: a babe; @mcbigbro​