★ pick someone you want to play with and put it in the subject. ★ feel free to request if you don't see 'em on the list. (muse strength may vary) ★ leave a pic/prompt/whatever ★ stuff ★ have fun!
[ some things he learned in the past two years: when you hang out in the darkness pretending to be someone you're not, fixing things that may not have been entirely your fault (but they are, he tells himself. all of it is), your senses start going one by one. everything smells like darkness, everything tastes like darkness, and before long, he figured he might as well wear a blindfold since all he could see was darkness anyway.
but those are things in the past. it's sunday morning and he's in the kitchen.
everyone's still asleep. the sun's just barely peeking into the kitchen window but he's wide awake and flipping pancakes over, a pile of toast on a plate next to him. he's thinking of what to say when they come in; maybe he'll make off with his plate of food before they all come down and it'll save him the explanation, but a part of him also doesn't really care. it's their day off before the whole master training begins and he thinks they might as well enjoy the peace and quiet before things get hectic again. ]
[ peace and quiet. two things that leon longs for, and two things he rarely allows himself to have.
what could have been a sleepy, serene sunday morning — punctuated by the occasional luxurious stretch or blissfully unbothered scratch — has instead been transformed into one of aches, sweat, and grime. he'd risen well before the sun and worked until his eyes watered, courtesy of the rays glinting off his gunblade. then came the frown, the idle wish for a cloud, and the not-entirely-satisfied retreat from his training.
in other words: leon turned a perfectly lovely morning into a perfectly routine one.
he's quiet when he slips back into the house. not by virtue of his stature: leon hasn't been built for stealth since he was a teenager. this is the quiet that comes with practice. this is quiet with a purpose. this ... is his attempt to avoid waking yuffie.
step there. step there. don't step there....
the dance to avoid creaking floorboards is a careful one. trial and error have taught him much, but it's never a guarantee. he holds his breath as he pivots, lips tightening at the slightest creaking of leather....
his concentration is that of a true swordsman. it's not until he's pirouetted his way into the kitchen — his usual next stop of the morning — that it wavers ... and he notices the smell.
[ the bus rattles to a hard stop and riku jerks awake.
he's not sure where they're even going or why they're on the train at some weird hour of the night, but here they are: crammed side by side in seats too small for them, his head having ended up on axel's (bony, he observes) shoulder when he dozed off. the train is empty save for a few people scattered here and there, but none of them are looking their way.
he takes a deeper breath, one hand coming up to scrub at his eyes as he pulls himself upright. ]
Sorry.
[ his voice is low, husked with drowsiness. a part of him is still surprised he managed to fall asleep on axel of all people, but maybe he's just that tired. ]
[ his first thought is of roxas, bright-eyed and laughing, pushing his shoulder in protest to some joke. but there's no laughter.
his second thought is of saïx, grip powerful and unyielding, passing down orders with a hand on his shoulder. but there's no twisting in his gut.
movement. heat, pulling away. he's half-leaning after it when he hears:
"Sorry."
awareness crashes down with a flash of silver hair. riku. a bus. some "hero" mission. seats that clearly weren't designed for two adult humans (or ... near enough). and ... riku leaning on him?
wait. that doesn't add up.
he buys time by rolling his shoulders — noting that one feels rather stiff, in addition to warm — and chancing a glance at the keyblade wielder.
ah. not leaning. sleeping. ]
Hey, if you need your beauty sleep, who am I to interrupt?
[ cocky to a fault, and completely disregarding the fact that — up until riku moved — he was out cold. ]
[ it's not the first time she's let herself into his apartment.
she times it so that she gets there when he's at work, right in the middle of his day so the possibility of him doubling back home isn't as high. she remembered when she first started this routine how messy his apartment was (let's not forget that couch) and now, she almost doesn't recognize it. at least she can actually see the original beige color the couch was and everything else was arranged in a more organized manner. things were good, it's not as if he confronted her about it anyway.
but today was a little different. maybe it's the lack of sleep or fatigue, she's not sure; she breaks a plate while doing his dishes. the sound startles her more than anything and as she kneels down to pick up the broken pieces she can't help but feel like the whole thing is just futile. grimmjow doesn't need her help, doesn't need her company. he's survived this long on his own, what right does she have to try and change what works for him?
and maybe it's a sign when she cuts herself while gathering up the pieces, blood staining the blues and oranges of the plate. ]
[ he's not oblivious to the changes taking place in his apartment. nor is he particularly bothered by them. he was, for a time, curious as to who was making them. it wasn't the roommate: grimmjow hadn't seen what's-his-name in ... long enough to consider him abducted or dead. that left the list of possible cleaners at a big fat zero. to another person, that might have been alarming. to grimmjow, it was slightly puzzling, and quickly dismissed. what did he care who was cleaning the place, as long as they didn't fuck with his stuff?
so the mystery went uninvestigated. the place became cleaner and cleaner, and grimmjow didn't object. his couch became softer as years of cracked blood disappeared, and grimmjow slept better for it.
sleep on that mysteriously cleaner couch is exactly what's on his mind, as he tromps up the dim, narrow stairway to his apartment. he's earlier than usual; the guy didn't take as long to break as his buddies had. he catches glimpses of neighbors that he rarely sees, glares at a woman dragging her kid out of his way, steps over a man (corpse?) in his hall, hears glass shatter somewhere nearby, and finally reaches his door.
the key sticks in the lock, and he rattles the handle until it finally twists. he steps inside — blood-splattered as always, though none of it his — and smells ... something.
it says quite a bit, that grimmjow doesn't immediately recognize that smell as cleaning products.
he sniffs the air twice, scowling, and begins scanning the apartment for the source. orange and blue catch his attention first. only then does he notice the small figure beside the broken plates.
But no, seriously, as festive the evening was, this was no time to get complacent and comfortable. Kasumi's here to do business, even if that meant posing as Riku's date for the night in some fancy getup that she wouldn't have ever seen herself wearing up until now. But hey, it's free, and if there's one nice thing about being in the police force, it's getting some privileges that people on the ground level normally wouldn't get otherwise.
As far as anyone's concerned, the two of them are a couple, doubling as representatives for one of the charity's sponsors--some company that required Kasumi to do some extensive research on in order to make the disguise as authentic as possible. She'd even used the past two days to learn how to walk in heels, and boy was it uncomfortable, but they're here now and she's going to be as 'real' as she can be.
It's why she smiles gently and wraps her arm through Riku's, linking them together as they enter the gala.
[ once they actually enter the gala, he has to resist the urge to squint at the bright lights. there's no chandelier and led lights down below -- he'd be hard-pressed to find proper working lightbulbs in some places, he thinks as he leads them towards a less crowded area of the ballroom. he takes note of the other sponsors and high ranking officials, greeting some with practiced smiles and pleasantries that may or may not have carried with him from his childhood. it's easy to slip into the role of a trained socialite, and he's long since grown accustomed to the artful encasement of suits and ties and slacks. but that's neither here nor there.
when they're finally left alone at the refreshment table, he takes the opportunity to stand close, reaching up to carefully tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. ]
You're fine, [ he says, voice pitched low for only her to hear. ] You look great.
[ and he means it, kasumi can clean up nice when she wants to. though he supposes that it's probably the stylist that came in to help coordinate their outfits that should take most of the credit, as she'd taken the time to match his suit to kasumi's dress. she had also specifically requested him to tie his hair back into a low ponytail, which he was reluctant to do at first, but whatever. he'll just have to deal with it. ]
How are you feeling? Think you can make it through the night without tripping?
[ he's mostly joking despite his straight face, but if she looks closely, she might see one corner of his mouth quirked up in a half smirk behind his glass of champagne. ]
[ She's not much of a people-person, but she's just as practiced as he is, from even before she'd entered the police force. The dress is foreign to her, as is everything else going on around her, but they'd prepared her well and Riku had offered his two cents along the way. This doesn't frighten her.
What does, however, are the small aches and blisters that are beginning to form on her feet. ]
I made it through practice just fine, didn't I? Don't you worry about a thing!
[ Except that he probably should, because never again will she (willingly) wear heels ever again, but that's besides the point. She holds her glass of water up to take a sip, still trying to get accustomed to being so close to him. They've worked together for a while, but it was never quite like this, and as fake as it is, it still makes her uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, but...in a way she can't describe. But she's used to being kind to him, being patient and understanding, even if some part of her doesn't really know how to respond how gentle his touch was when he'd tucked her hair behind her ear. ]
Ah...you should tie your hair up more. It suits you, y'know?
[Frey can safely say that this is the first time that he's woken up on the pavement before. He's greeted with the sight of a night sky dotted with stars, cool air around him still. It's a strange serenity settled around him, a sharp contrast to the wariness that swiftly floods him as he sits up, taking in more of his surroundings. Taking stock of himself.
It doesn't appear that he's injured, though he'd have to give himself a closer inspection later. He can't feel pain, after all. If it isn't something readily apparent, he wouldn't know.
As he picks himself up, he takes in the people and buildings stationed around him. Nobody seems concerned about the fact that a man was just unconscious on the pavement, going about their business. Colorful shop signs glow brightly, heralding the names of stores and venues with which he isn't at all familiar.
In fact...nothing here strikes him as something he's seen before.
His frown is nearly imperceptible as he pushes himself to start walking - to seek out something that isn't foreign. He's got to get his bearings]
[ what frey finds instead is a redhead crouched low to the pavement and conversing with a moogle. linus unfortunately does not speak in kupo, but despite the fact that he has no idea what's really going on, he can't help but stay and try to listen as the moogle waves its stubby arms and kupo kupopos on and on in what he assumes is a very important story.
he's got his chin propped up in one hand as he nods, ]
Uh-huh... and what happened next? They attacked your store? [ kupo kupo! ] Man, what dicks.
[Now, he didn't expect to cross paths with a man talking to what looks like a stuffed animal. He's seen stuffed animals enchanted to move about and make sounds, but nothing quite like this. And he's certainly never seen a grown man trying to carry on conversation with it. After all, isn't simply a toy...isn't it?
Excuse him while he just stands behind Linus with his stoneface trying to figure out what in the world he's doing.
The very friendliest way to greet anyone, indeed.
Hi hello he's Frey Asher. And he thinks you're talking to a stuffed animal]
[ SCENE ONE. Henrique finds that being outside of Brazil is a fulfilling experience. Sure, there were some downs, but that doesn't change the fact that ever since his college application was accepted, he's having the time of his life.
Guess the whole "college is the best four years of your life" thing was true. Then again, he's still in his second year, so he's got a couple more years to go. (Unless he fucks up somewhere but he tries not to waste his scholarship, really.)
Cut to the present in which Henrique and his roommate are out and about on a Sunday and notices the sudden and in-your-face presence of flowers, chocolates, and hearts. ]
Is there a special occasion? Or a festival?
[ His accent hasn't completely vanished, but it's subtle enough to say he's definitely not from around here. ]
[ Things that will only see him dig a deeper hole probably. ]
Have you ever given the pizza delivery guy a handjob? What is a handjob, anyway?
[ Hikaru's thoughts have already flown to the possibility of she and her brothers having mistreated the pizza delivery guy for years now. This can only get worse. ]
[ The bathroom is filled with steam, and it's not because of the water temperature. It's because of the guy standing in the shower, running the coldest water he can. But much of the water is evaporating when it hits his skin, and he stands with his head bent under the showerhead. His hair, at least, is soaked. But it fits his mood, leaning over like this, his hair obscuring his vision; his control hasn't been this bad in some time.
While standing here is mostly for his own comfort (even he gets overheated), he figures this place with its water and tile is the least likely area for him to accidentally set on fire.
He's pretty sure he was supposed to do something today, but most of his concentration is on breathing right and trying to be stone. ]
[ she's not entirely sure what really happened, it was all kind of a blur. one moment they were talking about something and the next they were arguing and suddenly, something exploded.
it's a good thing her powers were all water, managing to save the kitchen before the entire house caught on fire. they'd probably need another stove, but all in all, things could've been worse. that isn't to say that tia is blameless, and she knows she isn't. she's been trying to be more patient and less quick to anger, but she hasn't made much progress on that yet.
after cleaning everything up and making sure none of the other appliances were damaged, she musters up the courage to find jori, stopping in front of the bathroom door. after a moment's stalling, she finally knocks. ]
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everyone :|
it's been eons since i used this journal i almost forgot the password
but those are things in the past. it's sunday morning and he's in the kitchen.
everyone's still asleep. the sun's just barely peeking into the kitchen window but he's wide awake and flipping pancakes over, a pile of toast on a plate next to him. he's thinking of what to say when they come in; maybe he'll make off with his plate of food before they all come down and it'll save him the explanation, but a part of him also doesn't really care. it's their day off before the whole master training begins and he thinks they might as well enjoy the peace and quiet before things get hectic again. ]
i'd be lost without lj juggler
what could have been a sleepy, serene sunday morning — punctuated by the occasional luxurious stretch or blissfully unbothered scratch — has instead been transformed into one of aches, sweat, and grime. he'd risen well before the sun and worked until his eyes watered, courtesy of the rays glinting off his gunblade. then came the frown, the idle wish for a cloud, and the not-entirely-satisfied retreat from his training.
in other words: leon turned a perfectly lovely morning into a perfectly routine one.
he's quiet when he slips back into the house. not by virtue of his stature: leon hasn't been built for stealth since he was a teenager. this is the quiet that comes with practice. this is quiet with a purpose. this ... is his attempt to avoid waking yuffie.
step there. step there. don't step there....
the dance to avoid creaking floorboards is a careful one. trial and error have taught him much, but it's never a guarantee. he holds his breath as he pivots, lips tightening at the slightest creaking of leather....
his concentration is that of a true swordsman. it's not until he's pirouetted his way into the kitchen — his usual next stop of the morning — that it wavers ... and he notices the smell.
which ... means he's not alone. ]
bless lj juggler
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AS REQUESTED
:*
he's not sure where they're even going or why they're on the train at some weird hour of the night, but here they are: crammed side by side in seats too small for them, his head having ended up on axel's (bony, he observes) shoulder when he dozed off. the train is empty save for a few people scattered here and there, but none of them are looking their way.
he takes a deeper breath, one hand coming up to scrub at his eyes as he pulls himself upright. ]
Sorry.
[ his voice is low, husked with drowsiness. a part of him is still surprised he managed to fall asleep on axel of all people, but maybe he's just that tired. ]
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his second thought is of saïx, grip powerful and unyielding, passing down orders with a hand on his shoulder. but there's no twisting in his gut.
movement. heat, pulling away. he's half-leaning after it when he hears:
"Sorry."
awareness crashes down with a flash of silver hair. riku. a bus. some "hero" mission. seats that clearly weren't designed for two adult humans (or ... near enough). and ... riku leaning on him?
wait. that doesn't add up.
he buys time by rolling his shoulders — noting that one feels rather stiff, in addition to warm — and chancing a glance at the keyblade wielder.
ah. not leaning. sleeping. ]
Hey, if you need your beauty sleep, who am I to interrupt?
[ cocky to a fault, and completely disregarding the fact that — up until riku moved — he was out cold. ]
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oh please you know i'm the queen of edits
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guess who
yELLS (also aus verse bc i couldn't think of anything else)
she times it so that she gets there when he's at work, right in the middle of his day so the possibility of him doubling back home isn't as high. she remembered when she first started this routine how messy his apartment was (let's not forget that couch) and now, she almost doesn't recognize it. at least she can actually see the original beige color the couch was and everything else was arranged in a more organized manner. things were good, it's not as if he confronted her about it anyway.
but today was a little different. maybe it's the lack of sleep or fatigue, she's not sure; she breaks a plate while doing his dishes. the sound startles her more than anything and as she kneels down to pick up the broken pieces she can't help but feel like the whole thing is just futile. grimmjow doesn't need her help, doesn't need her company. he's survived this long on his own, what right does she have to try and change what works for him?
and maybe it's a sign when she cuts herself while gathering up the pieces, blood staining the blues and oranges of the plate. ]
yesssss i love it
so the mystery went uninvestigated. the place became cleaner and cleaner, and grimmjow didn't object. his couch became softer as years of cracked blood disappeared, and grimmjow slept better for it.
sleep on that mysteriously cleaner couch is exactly what's on his mind, as he tromps up the dim, narrow stairway to his apartment. he's earlier than usual; the guy didn't take as long to break as his buddies had. he catches glimpses of neighbors that he rarely sees, glares at a woman dragging her kid out of his way, steps over a man (corpse?) in his hall, hears glass shatter somewhere nearby, and finally reaches his door.
the key sticks in the lock, and he rattles the handle until it finally twists. he steps inside — blood-splattered as always, though none of it his — and smells ... something.
it says quite a bit, that grimmjow doesn't immediately recognize that smell as cleaning products.
he sniffs the air twice, scowling, and begins scanning the apartment for the source. orange and blue catch his attention first. only then does he notice the small figure beside the broken plates.
his scowl deepens. ]
The fuck are you doing here?
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fuck
Time for some 21 Jump Street shit.But no, seriously, as festive the evening was, this was no time to get complacent and comfortable. Kasumi's here to do business, even if that meant posing as Riku's date for the night in some fancy getup that she wouldn't have ever seen herself wearing up until now. But hey, it's free, and if there's one nice thing about being in the police force, it's getting some privileges that people on the ground level normally wouldn't get otherwise.
As far as anyone's concerned, the two of them are a couple, doubling as representatives for one of the charity's sponsors--some company that required Kasumi to do some extensive research on in order to make the disguise as authentic as possible. She'd even used the past two days to learn how to walk in heels, and boy was it uncomfortable, but they're here now and she's going to be as 'real' as she can be.
It's why she smiles gently and wraps her arm through Riku's, linking them together as they enter the gala.
She whispers to him softly, under her breath. ]
This is okay, right?
laughs into the sun
when they're finally left alone at the refreshment table, he takes the opportunity to stand close, reaching up to carefully tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. ]
You're fine, [ he says, voice pitched low for only her to hear. ] You look great.
[ and he means it, kasumi can clean up nice when she wants to. though he supposes that it's probably the stylist that came in to help coordinate their outfits that should take most of the credit, as she'd taken the time to match his suit to kasumi's dress. she had also specifically requested him to tie his hair back into a low ponytail, which he was reluctant to do at first, but whatever. he'll just have to deal with it. ]
How are you feeling? Think you can make it through the night without tripping?
[ he's mostly joking despite his straight face, but if she looks closely, she might see one corner of his mouth quirked up in a half smirk behind his glass of champagne. ]
BURNS INTO THE SUN...
What does, however, are the small aches and blisters that are beginning to form on her feet. ]
I made it through practice just fine, didn't I? Don't you worry about a thing!
[ Except that he probably should, because never again will she (willingly) wear heels ever again, but that's besides the point. She holds her glass of water up to take a sip, still trying to get accustomed to being so close to him. They've worked together for a while, but it was never quite like this, and as fake as it is, it still makes her uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, but...in a way she can't describe. But she's used to being kind to him, being patient and understanding, even if some part of her doesn't really know how to respond how gentle his touch was when he'd tucked her hair behind her ear. ]
Ah...you should tie your hair up more. It suits you, y'know?
[ That's...an appropriate response. Ok. ]
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GIMME YO OC
It doesn't appear that he's injured, though he'd have to give himself a closer inspection later. He can't feel pain, after all. If it isn't something readily apparent, he wouldn't know.
As he picks himself up, he takes in the people and buildings stationed around him. Nobody seems concerned about the fact that a man was just unconscious on the pavement, going about their business. Colorful shop signs glow brightly, heralding the names of stores and venues with which he isn't at all familiar.
In fact...nothing here strikes him as something he's seen before.
His frown is nearly imperceptible as he pushes himself to start walking - to seek out something that isn't foreign. He's got to get his bearings]
u got it
he's got his chin propped up in one hand as he nods, ]
Uh-huh... and what happened next? They attacked your store? [ kupo kupo! ] Man, what dicks.
[ a truly riveting conversation. ]
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Excuse him while he just stands behind Linus with his stoneface trying to figure out what in the world he's doing.
The very friendliest way to greet anyone, indeed.
Hi hello he's Frey Asher. And he thinks you're talking to a stuffed animal]
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LINUUUUSS
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Henrique finds that being outside of Brazil is a fulfilling experience. Sure, there were some downs, but that doesn't change the fact that ever since his college application was accepted, he's having the time of his life.
Guess the whole "college is the best four years of your life" thing was true. Then again, he's still in his second year, so he's got a couple more years to go. (Unless he fucks up somewhere but he tries not to waste his scholarship, really.)
Cut to the present in which Henrique and his roommate are out and about on a Sunday and notices the sudden and in-your-face presence of flowers, chocolates, and hearts. ]
Is there a special occasion? Or a festival?
[ His accent hasn't completely vanished, but it's subtle enough to say he's definitely not from around here. ]
bless
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surprise
SCREAMS
shakingandcrying.gif
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/keywords
im dead
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fuuka or some other purse owner
tfln meme (adele)
[ like was it really that bad.... ]
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[ Maybe. Probably not. ]
thinking like that, no wonder there was a problem. you aren't fashion savvy, are you?
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tfln meme (hikaru no)
uh
no!
well i mean
i guess you can?
if you liked him enough
[ god what is he saying. ]
you mean hikaru yes
Have you ever given the pizza delivery guy a handjob? What is a handjob, anyway?
[ Hikaru's thoughts have already flown to the possibility of she and her brothers having mistreated the pizza delivery guy for years now. This can only get worse. ]
smh 1/2
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small angry water lady
While standing here is mostly for his own comfort (even he gets overheated), he figures this place with its water and tile is the least likely area for him to accidentally set on fire.
He's pretty sure he was supposed to do something today, but most of his concentration is on breathing right and trying to be stone. ]
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it's a good thing her powers were all water, managing to save the kitchen before the entire house caught on fire. they'd probably need another stove, but all in all, things could've been worse. that isn't to say that tia is blameless, and she knows she isn't. she's been trying to be more patient and less quick to anger, but she hasn't made much progress on that yet.
after cleaning everything up and making sure none of the other appliances were damaged, she musters up the courage to find jori, stopping in front of the bathroom door. after a moment's stalling, she finally knocks. ]
Hey.
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1/3???
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3/3
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