#akatdeity

fun new meme here ! write 3-5 things a new rp partner (or those who want to be) should know about you and tag 3-5 people ! it should be related to rp and not to other interests. (also don’t write you are a dork/gremlin/etc. this is tumblr, of course you are)

Tagged by : @shatteredxlookingxglass

Tagging : @sunagakurenosato @mita-rashi @masked-stitches

For all my muses, I prefer canon-divergent over all other AUs. Canon, because, I like learning about the “base” of my characters—divergent because I prefer a happier ending than canon allows for. That means, Hidan gets out of his hole, Sasori doesn’t leave Suna or survives, and Jashin and Third play a bigger role in their original universes.

I don’t use icons. If you do, that’s fine! I can appreciate a good edit ;)

Too much formatting is hard for me to read, honestly. Will avoid blogs with that.

Too many epithets (rose-haired girl, green-eyed man) are confusing. Will avoid blogs with that.

I multiship like mad but I’m picky as heck. I tend to get turned off by muns who skip to autoshipping without creating a backstory for our characters first. I’m into non-villain/villain ships but I need a good plot to justify why my villain doesn’t kill them automatically.

Response time varies with inspiration and offline work load. If you want me to focus on a particular thread, send an ask. (I won’t answer it publicly, but this sends me a notification so I know to write).

     Would your muse ever get married?

Hidan — despite focusing more on fighting and praying than anything else, he tends to have flings more than the average muse. He will get married if someone manages to stick with him long enough (without going insane). I wish them good luck, because Hidan doesn’t believe in divorce.

Hearts are fragile things. Sometimes all it takes is a sentence to break them. Sometimes, not even a sentence, but two words. Two tiny, insignificant, meaningless words.

Go home, Jashin had said.

Two little words, knocking the wind out of him, turning his chest to ash. To dust. To nothing.

Two little words, and Sasori swallows. His throat bobs. His arms fall over the sides of his linen robes, plum purple nails prickling at the indigo dye. He swallows again, then says,

“I don’t want to.”

@akatdeity

Karura wanted a lot of things. She wanted her sickness to go away, for one. For her heart to magically become better. For her lungs to be free of water. For her legs to swell less. She wanted to dance again, run around the park again.

She wanted to sing again.

But Karura has heard the doctors talking. She was getting better... ish ish. Still need these medicines in fluids straight to her veins for her heart to function better. They tinker with the machine every hour or so. But they haven’t turned it off. Now... it looks like she’s been in the hospital long enough to have caught a bug.

She saw the look in Yashamaru’s face. That will always tell her what the other doctors won’t.

Gosh, Karura wanted so many things. But she does not regret how she spent her life. Honestly, perhaps it was better she never got married. She doesn’t have children to leave behind. Doesn’t have a husband to say goodbye to. (Just Yasha... and even then she doesn’t know how to say goodbye. And Hidan. Because there was... still is something there. Still is something there.)

She looked up to where her mother sat at the edge of the bed. The only bright thing against the sterile white of the ICU. Whenever you’re ready.

“I want the last sacrament,” she can’t cry, or else she’ll congest. And then she won’t be able to breathe. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” She held his hand tightly-- reached across with her arm that wasn’t in a splint.

“I mean, yeah?” Hidan huffs, strolling along the graffitied catwalk. His two thumbs fiddle at the edges of his pocket, frayed—and not in the stylish way.

“Ish?” He shrugs. “Not really? If it’s ‘filtered,’” he fumbles, for the words, a cigarette, ANYTHING. “Then it’s for a good reason. God’s will, ‘spose. Like, uh....” he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. Shit.

Grey birds fly overhead, casting their shadows on the two strangers. He lifts his eyes to the heavens, beseeching. But concept slips through his fingers like as the Pearled Gates above. Or below, for that matter. Sin, at least, is easier to grasp than virtue; easier to hold, easier to embrace, easier to let himself fall into temptation, if he can call it that. 

Smokes are filtered. Drugs regulated. Instinct contained, by laws, and dos and do nots, chipping away at humanity until the soul is dust, dust, dust. In other words, sacrilege. The boring kind, even.

Hidan sighs. “You really ask the tough questions, aye, ‘Kuzu?” He kicks at the other, playfully. “Finally converting? Well!” He hops up on a brownstone stoop, pulpit of the day, and shouts,

“Listen up!” He seizes the attention of several passerbys. “You gotta take Him in like a cig,” He inhales, deep. Air hisses past his lips, ribs expand into his hoodie, until he’s fit to burst. “Nice, n’ slow. Hear me?” he thumps his chest, hard. “Take the scripture in—slow. Slow. Feel the light flood in. The warmth. And then you sorta—clasp your hands together.” Hidan does so. Prayer position. “Just like this. Let Him fill you. All the holes that life fucked into you, the crap that don’t make sense, the shit you gotta deal with just to fucking survive—” he says, faster.

“Let it go, asshole.” His eyes gleam like knives.

              “—and try not to choke on God.”

✞

“ ‘If you prepare, there will be no sorrow.’ Or so the sinners claim.

I will tell you this, Hidan:

‘Pain is inevitable.   We suffer so others do not. We live and kill so others must not. We bring destruction so the world can break down and blossom anew.’

It is necessary. You are necessary.

Do you understand, Hidan?”

“Eh...?” Does he understand... Does he really get it?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But that won't stop him from trying.

Hidan's eyes dart up, then down. Back toward the ground, his bloodied fingers tracing circles in the earth. The dirt stuck under his nails, dark red and black. The salt dried on the back of his hands, thumbs whitening on the pendant of Jashin.   “Yeah,” he starts, clearing his throat. Breathes in, and out, the cloying crypt air sticking to his lungs. “Yes.”

“And...?” The god prompts,  as still as a statue.

Heaving a petulant sigh, Hidan tries again.

“Yes, Lord Jashin. I understand.”

   ॐ    ॐ    ॐ    

Multimuse RP blog

Hidan & Jashin

Penned by Akat