#* ——— & . visage . haruki ◞

[smol-sirens-garden]

Haruki Ishii Tag Dump

#Tag Dump #Muse: Haruki Ishii #Headcanons: Haruki Ishii #Visage: Haruki Ishii #Attire: Haruki Ishii #Music: Haruki Ishii #Musings: Haruki Ishii #Open Starter: Haruki Ishii #Dash Commentary: Haruki Ishii #Crack: Haruki Ishii

[hikachin]

"Place Your Bets" Translation

After quite a while of not translating (around a year), I am back. This time I translated Makonyan's new single, "Place Your Bets". The jazz and rock melody really grabs your attention and showcases his maturity.

This single is released to celebrate his 5th artist debut anniversary. As a way to give back to his fans, he brought us "Place Your Bets". Yes, he did write the lyrics.

According to Seigura July 2023 issue, this a parallel of "Miserable Masquerade". With the theme of it being "counter attack". It is about a man out for revenge. I will not try to explain too much cause I'll probably TL the article when the copy is in my hands.

Rainy Day is also another song he wrote the lyrics for. I'll most likely TL Rainy Day, too.

Before you start reading the TL, please do note a few stuff. I am no expert in Japanese and I am still learning it. I am sorry in advanced if there are any mistranslations. With that being said, please enjoy this masterpiece 🙏

"Place Your Bets" ~ Furukawa Makoto [古川慎]

Oh Lady, ready? Crazy, I don't miss you

In an unforgettable flavor

My heart is beating for avenge it

The curtains open to a showdown-like frenzy

The dress that wrapped around the scarlet memories

The lies that burn to ashes, a trampled resolve *⑴

A fragile relationship (visage) ignored *⑵

(Let's) Start this game like a kiss *⑶

A yearning gem

The hand that can't reach the cry of the past

The messiest, sweetest room

(An) unravelled spell

"Place Your Bets"

(I) love you so much to the point that it destroys (me)

The night blooms as you ridiculed me with a "it's been a long time" *⑷

The captured, traveling innocence that was imprisoned *⑸

Stirred up fakeness

I've gone insane as I'm being exposed

Sepia painted endorphin

Daring lips, the wheel of reunion

The needle that moved will not be able to stop

(Break this, your jail

my oath, my faith)

The misérable noise of the bell

That surrender

Never disappearing mutterings

"Goodbye masquerade"

It's beautiful because it doesn't satisfy at all

The poker face facing the table

The unavoidable, undeceivable final blow of the last phase *⑹

A raise of intertwined gazes *⑺

Destroying each other until we're mad

I've arranged one of the best parting gift *⑻

Right in the middle of your heart,

I just stabbed it

The game is over

Notes:

⑴ 「踏み締める」means to harden by treading. I use trample just cause it's easier for many to understand. It's also not too long, unlike the original definition.

⑵ This starts the saga of "Furukawa Makoto using different furigana than the actual furigana of the kanji". 「関係性」is read as 「かんけいせい」(kankeisei). But the furigana says 「カタチ」(katachi). From what I have found, 「カタチ」means visage. Take this information as you will. I believe the visage of the relationship is the one that's fragile.

⑶ Similar situation to ⑵, 「勝負」is usually read as 「しょうぶ」(shoobu). But in here, it's written as 「ゆうぎ」(yuugi). 「ゆうぎ」can be written in kanji as 「遊戯」and 「遊技」. First one meaning "play" and the other meaning "pasttimes". Again, take this info as you will.

⑷ I did my best with this one. But this is just how much I can translate the sentence.

⑸ Same situation with ⑷, this is just how much I can translate the lyrics.

⑹ 「トドメ」here is written purely in katakana. So no kanji or anything which made it confusing. Other than translating to "final blow", it could also mean "stab".

⑺ Same situation as ⑷ & ⑸. This is seriously the best I can do for this sentence.

⑻ Has a similar situation here where he used straight up katakana [ハナムケ]. Further confusing which kanji it is. In the end, the only fitting meaning I found is a "parting gift". The other meaning has something to do with a horse's nose.

If you'd like to support me, you can do so by donating to my Ko-fi down here ^^

#Spotify #furukawa makoto #seiyuu #古川慎 #声優 #translation

[ruki--mukami]

Clara and Ruki were cuddling in their room with her sitting on his lap when their children barged in and started to chase eachother around the room.In an attempt to calm them down she tries to get up but accidentally grinds on him.

*blushing furiously*

I-I'm so sorry Ruki!

"No, it's quite alright, Clara. You did nothing wrong. As for you both," the Vampire turned to his children, "it's time for you two to play elsewhere. Your mother and I are enjoying some peace and quiet."

Slightly enraged, the Vampire escorted both Haruki and Akira out, much to their disappointment. However, the more intimidating than usual look of scorn upon his visage told them to heed their father's words and do as he says. Locking the door behind him, ensuring that he and his wife enjoyed a private space alone, a knowing smile crept on his lips.

"Finally, we can finish what we started."

The earlier brush against his lap had offered a brief moment of arousal for the Vampire, even if it was accidental on Clara's part. Pulling her back into their prior cuddling position, this time Ruki enclosed his arms around her tighter than ever, one of his hands slowly gliding up her shirt. A budding erection pressed at the confines of his pants, and in turn, her ample backside.

"Can you feel it down there? It's thanks to you that I'm like this."

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #ask #rp #diabolik lovers rp #clara #fantasticchaosdaze #dungeon #haruki mukami #akira mukami

[sundayage]

My "I should buy it soon" booklist

Midway through the afternoon, I realized that I have a number of books that I want to buy and read. I am not a huge fan of GoodReads, mainly because book reviews are mostly subjective, and I just tend to forget I have the app. So instead, I decide to type in a blog post which sort of feels like a cry for attention, but whatever. Anyways let me begin. (Do note that since its a list, its a work-in-progress)

Bunny by Mona Awad: In short, a girl with a darker mind hates her fiction writing course classmates. Eventually, the girl finds out her classmates are in a cult and joins in. I do not know much, but books in which heroines go insane are always my fav. Call me a "Sad Girl" Literatulist.

ON SUN SWALLOWING by Dakota Warren: Dakota Warren's debut on poetry and just the snippets around the internet just make me want to buy it.

The Dangers of Smoking in Bed by Mariana Enriquez: A collection of psych horror stories that talks about mental illness, heartbeat kinks, and more grotesque stuff.

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke by Eric LaRocca: In short, two girls meet at an online chatroom and eventually go insane together. I have read reviews and they are mostly negative, but we'll see.

Crush by Richard Siken: No words needed. Siken is honestly just an amazing poet. His content of tragic homosexual relationships, and his ability to twist them into such a romantic and brutal visage, tugs at my heartstrings.

Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov: A book in which the main pages are a 999 line poem, and the actual story is in the footnotes. So as you can see, the twist in it is just so fresh. Additionally, it is where my favourite line "Come and be worshiped, come and be caressed, My dark Vanessa.” comes from.

LAPVONA by Otessa Moshfeigh: Marek, an abused and delusional little shepherd boy, comes face to face with the ruination of his own village by occult forces led by his father. No words were needed to explain my interest.

Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami: Toru and Naoko devote themselves to mutual passion until the death of a friend tears them apart. Toru was able to adapt, however, Naoko further falls into her own world due to the responsibilities and pressures of life. I'm not fond of romance without something unsettling in there, but I might read this for fun.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles: Two boys try to emotionally adapt through the starting years of World War II. Sounds depressing, and the writing is vaguely homoerotic.

A Girl is a Half-formed Thing by Eimear McBride: Life through the perspective of a two-year-old girl as she grows up. Themes of sexuality, trauma, and just haunting hardships and expectations that girls face as they mature.

A Certain Hunger by Chelsea G. Summers: the story of a serial killer named Dorothy Daniels as she writes recipes based on the flesh of the men she killed.

Being Lolita by Alisson Wood: A girl realizes that a relationship with a man of that age can never be called love. Very reminiscent of My Dark Vanessa.

[sociietiesarc]

ritsuka & haruki & ugetsu

#u. ritsuka ⸺ headcanon #u. ritsuka ⸺ musing #u. ritsuka ⸺ visage #u. ritsuka ⸺ aesthetic #u. ritsuka ⸺ ic #n. haruki ⸺ headcanon #n. haruki ⸺ musing #n. haruki ⸺ visage #n. haruki ⸺ aesthetic #n. haruki ⸺ ic #m. ugetsu ⸺ headcanon #m. ugetsu ⸺ musing #m. ugetsu ⸺ visage #m. ugetsu ⸺ aesthetic #m. ugetsu ⸺ ic

[sapphiren]

;tag drop

#﹝ ic » it's story time. ﹞ #﹝ ooc » just phi things. ﹞ #﹝ visage » a look in the mirror. ﹞ #﹝ inbox » you've got mail. ﹞ #﹝ annette » crest of dominic. ﹞ #﹝ asuna » the flash. ﹞ #﹝ childe » 11th fatui harbinger. ﹞ #﹝ edna » hephsin yulind. ﹞ #﹝ hajime » ultimate hope. ﹞ #﹝ haruki » given's bassist. ﹞ #﹝ ino » deadly flower. ﹞ #﹝ kairi » princess of heart. ﹞ #﹝ kiritsugu » magus killer. ﹞ #﹝ lymle » tiny lemurisian symbologist. ﹞ #﹝ mikoto » barrier user. ﹞ #﹝ myuria » en ii researcher. ﹞ #﹝ noctis » crown prince of lucis. ﹞ #﹝ noel » the last farseer. ﹞ #﹝ noiz » painless hacker. ﹞ #﹝ shionne » renan maiden. ﹞ #﹝ sinon » ggo sniper. ﹞ #﹝ sumire » phantom thief violet. ﹞ #﹝ touma » dark diamond. ﹞ #﹝ utau » charming singer. ﹞ #﹝ wendy » sky dragon slayer. ﹞ #﹝ yu » investigation team leader. ﹞ #﹝ yuffie » materia hunter. ﹞ #﹝ yukari » the lovers. ﹞ #﹝ zero » vampire hunter. ﹞ #﹝ queue » phi is afk. ﹞

[destinychose-a1]

TAG DUMP  /  HARUKI

⤿   𝐈𝐍.    fujimori haruki  ／  interactions. ⤿   𝐈𝐍.    fujimori haruki  ／  visage. ⤿   𝐈𝐍.    fujimori haruki  ／  headcanon. ⤿   𝐈𝐍.    fujimori haruki  ／  message. ⤿   𝐈𝐍.    fujimori haruki  ／  introspection. ⤿   𝐈𝐍.    fujimori haruki  ／  aesthetic.

⤿   𝐑𝐄𝐋.    fujimori haruki  ／  you are my light at the end of the tunnel. a promise of better days.  (  wieldstorm  )

⤿   𝐕.     a light that was made to shine.  ／  pillar. ⤿   𝐕.     from the ashes of defeat‚ you arise.  ／  main.

#⤿ 𝐈𝐍. fujimori haruki ／ interactions. #⤿ 𝐈𝐍. fujimori haruki ／ visage. #⤿ 𝐈𝐍. fujimori haruki ／ headcanon. #⤿ 𝐈𝐍. fujimori haruki ／ message. #⤿ 𝐈𝐍. fujimori haruki ／ introspection. #⤿ 𝐈𝐍. fujimori haruki ／ aesthetic. #⤿ 𝐑𝐄𝐋. fujimori haruki ／ you are my light at the end of the tunnel. a promise of better days. ( wieldstorm ) #⤿ 𝐕. a light that was made to shine. ／ pillar. #⤿ 𝐕. from the ashes of defeat‚ you arise. ／ main.

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Years Past

Summary: Sakura haunts their small home in grief, feeling already a ghost even while surrounded with beautiful raven-haired children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As she sees each and every one of them over the months that follow, a select few stare back with her own eyes. Most of them are so like her husband's, though, luciform soot flecked with silver, and she feels so sorry when she looks too long and starts to cry. Romance, Character Death, Sad With a Happy Ending, Sakura POV.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: T

A/N: A little late to this prompt, but better late than never, I suppose. This has been sitting in my drafts since June, but reading it made me emotional and I got distracted by writing things for Like Gold. I apologize for the tardiness!

Sasusaku Month 2021, Day 7 Prompt: Years Past @ssskmonth

AO3 Link - FF.net Link

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sakura passes in her sleep, marcid and weary of a broken heart and missing mismatched eyes, at the age of eighty-two.

It is longer than most Shinobi make it by far, but she doesn't feel very grateful for it, in the last five excruciating months of her life.

Her husband hadn't made it to eighty-two; Sasuke-kun passed in December. It had been peaceful, all three of their children, most of their grandchildren, and even some great grandchildren, the ones not on missions outside of the village, at his bedside.

Sakura had been there, too, old and frail and holding his hand. She'd kissed him goodbye tearily, sensing it was almost time after decades of watching it happen to others inside secluded hospital walls. It had been in front of nearly all of their descendants, family the only thing helping to hold her together in his final moments.

He hadn't complained. He'd kissed her back, for everyone to see, and Sarada and the twins had started crying, then, squeezing their hands around those of their parents, because they knew it really was time.

He had thanked her, said her name one last time, all equanimity even then. Then, so softly, "I love you. I'll see you next time," before he went, bones settling wearily at long last.

There had been melancholy in his expression even in death, wrinkled skin turning glaucous and beginning to sag against old, hardened muscle.

Sasuke-kun was buried next to Itachi’s memorial. There is a plot he saved for her on his other side, his right arm, the hand she held so many times in life.

Sakura haunts their small home in grief, feeling already a ghost even while surrounded with beautiful raven-haired children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As she sees each and every one of them over the months that follow, a select few stare back with her own eyes. Most of them are so like her husband's, though, luciform soot flecked with silver, and she feels so sorry when she looks too long and starts to cry. Little Satoko, their newest great-grandchild all of eleven months old who she dotes on endlessly, reaches at her wrinkled cheeks to try to wipe them dry, babbling out a garbled version of "Oobasan, no cwy." He is talking earlier than most babies, stormy eyes eerily full of awareness and an endless lineage, just like Sarada at that age. Sakura laughs as she sobs, cradling him close to her heart, and looking out her window at their daughter's visage on the mountain. It is also Satoko's grandmother's image; it is hard to believe their sweet little baby is now old enough to be a grandmother. She remembers the first time Sarada had smiled at Sasuke-kun, the first time he held her at only an hour old, and he broke down sobbing.

She makes the trek to Sasuke-kun's grave every day for 138 days, each step an arduous agony, before stooping down to lay a fresh daffodil atop the soil where her husband's bones rest. She has also planted white lilies around his headstone, the same as those that surround Itachi's and the Uchiha Memorial Stone. Her children help her keep them watered as needed through a short spring drought; she is too old to carry a watering can now without spilling.

She misses him. It hurts worse than Sasori's poison or Madara stabbing her or giving birth or a giant shuriken nearly cleaving her in two.

There is joy to be found in the desolation, too, in her last few months of life. Their progenies throw her a birthday party like none other, and she eats her fill of cake while watching little hands eat some, too. Little Satoko dances, or moreso balters, with Sarada in time to a dramatic song he finds by pressing buttons on the radio; it is not a very appropriate tune for a dance with a toddler, all clumsy crescendo and orchestra, but amusing all the same. Sasuke-kun would have smiled, if he were there.

The white lilies bloom before her eyes one last time, resplendent and perfect. She gets to hear about Haruki making Chunin on the first try, every bit the pride of the Uchiha, reborn anew with Sharingan blazing. She even gets to see Akiko make Jonin in person, ambitious and ingenious with Sharingan and diamond seal on her forehead setting her apart from her adversaries in the arena.

But finally, at long last, it is her culminating day. 138 days doesn't seem like a long time to be without him, compared to the larger number of days he was absent in their youth, but she finds it is worse, following their life together.

She tells them all she loves them and falls asleep for the last time, watches their confluence of family say goodbye from above. Sarada and the twins cry the hardest, clinging to her body as her heart finally pumps for the last time. Satoko is too young to understand, but he pats at her, too, in a sea of dark-haired descendants that she knows will continue to bring honor back to a clan revived at the brink of death. She takes in each and every one of their beautiful faces one last time, faces so similar to Sasuke-kun's; not a single one of them has her nose.

It is a legacy of love they have created, exactly the dream they started willing into color the day they discovered they had made Sarada together.

Then, she is on a dock that has slightly singed edges, looking over a small, familiar pond.

It is a spring evening, the sun just falling beneath the horizon and cherry blossoms abloom, and she thinks that is strange, because it is June and Hanami has already passed them by. Satoko had been so cute in his new outfit; she had made it herself, not much else to do in their empty house filled with aching memories. The tiny uchiwa on the back of his collar was sewn with the utmost care, the kind that came from decades of practice.

Crickets chirp, cicadas buzz, and there are a few fireflies leaking out of the greenery, soft light reflectant in the stillness of the water. It is serene. She had sat on this dock many times with her husband, when he was alive, on his right side so she could hold his hand. He told her she was beautiful during Hanami here, every year. She shifts to begin the process of sitting down, planning on leaving the space he'd taken up in life empty for him, in case his ghost is around. She has felt it, sometimes, tugging at her own spirit; she leaves his side of the bed empty every night, trying to will him back to her.

As Sakura shifts, she looks down, and she is startled to see pink hair instead of white, and no wrinkles. She crouches to analyze herself more closely in water still as glass, and there are no creaking old bones. She is young again, somehow.

She is overjoyed; she will be able to water the white lilies herself again. She can even dance with little Satoko now.

Light footsteps sound behind her, and just as she stands and turns, she is being swept into an unfamiliar yet comforting pair of arms. A woman with long inky hair, black as night, is hugging her tight.

"Thank you for loving my son," she breathes immediately, and Sakura starts crying, because she somehow knew who it was before she even said anything, without even seeing her face. When her eyes focus blearily through tears over Mikoto Uchiha's shoulder, Sasuke-kun's brother is walking up not far behind her.

Itachi Uchiha is smiling at her like she's done something wonderful, like he has been waiting for years to meet her. He is younger, healthier here, flecks of silver dancing in eyes just like her husband's, just like their childrens'. There's an impossible ache in her chest.

He waits patiently for his mother to pull back. When she finally does, Sakura looks into her eyes, and Mikoto is smiling at her so big, like she hung the moon in the sky, beginning to peek out from behind clouds above them.

"I have waited so long to meet you," she says, eyes shining, and her eyes are like Sasuke-kun's, too. "You are so beautiful."

Then Itachi is embracing her, and Sakura cries harder, because his arms feel almost like Sasuke-kun's arm had felt, slipping around her for sixty-one years of marriage, the same height and strong.

"I have waited, too. It's an honor. Thank you, for everything," Itachi says as she sobs.

"They are so beautiful, too, Sakura," Mikoto adds softly, hand at her shoulder, and she knows she means their children, Mikoto's grandchildren that she hasn't gotten to hold yet, Sarada and the twins and their children and all the others. Little Satoko had made twenty-seven blood relatives; including spouses who married into the clan, the number was thirty-eight, and there were two more babies on the way, yet.

Itachi lets her go, smile tender when he pulls away. He directs his gaze momentarily to the path leading up the hill, as if he's looking for someone.

She follows his gaze; Fugaku Uchiha is coming over the top, all stoicism even as a spirit. He stops momentarily and gives her a nod of recognition, not breaking eye contact for a long time.

Then, he glances back over his shoulder, tilts his head as if telling someone to follow him down the hill, and Sakura is running, though she hasn't been able to for years.

Sasuke-kun is all of twenty again, young and strong, too handsome for his own good and every bit the sweet but stoic man she fell in love and grew old with. He's smiling at her, just for her, and she's in his arms - he has both, here - in the blink of mismatched, teary eyes.

His arms feel like home, two spirits together in permanence at long last. It is the same feeling as the little piece of heaven they touched together whenever they made love, souls intertwining, but this time for good. She has missed him. Oh, she has missed him.

"...I told you I'd see you next time," he murmurs against her hair.

#this doesn't feel quite as polished as my other stuff tbh but i still like it #feels more raw emotion #ssm21 #ssm21d7 #sasusaku #naruto #ssfanfiction #cherry writes

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

À force d'observer Éri Assaï qui dort, l'oeil sent progressivement qu'il y a quelque chose d'inhabituel dans ce sommeil, d'une pureté extrême, d'un accomplissement absolu. Pas un muscle du visage, pas un cil ne frémit. Le cou fin et blanc, un objet d'art d'où émane une parfaite sérénité. Le menton, petit, présente des angles tout à fait harmonieux. Même dans un état de sommeil profond, personne ne s'aventure aussi loin. Personne ne lâche à ce point les rênes de son esprit.

Haruki Murakami (Le passage de la nuit)

#livre #book #book lover #bibliophile #book therapy #book addict #book community #book worm #quote #quotation #citation #quotes #goodreads #haruki murakami #le passage de la nuit #blog littérature #littérature #oeil #eye #esprit

[ao3feed-haikyuu]

Bird of Prey, Unite

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/39yzPIJ

by MapacheLuna

“Hey, nice toss, Konoha!” A shadow settled over him, and sure enough, his captain’s visage loomed over him when he finally managed to peel his dry lids apart. Bokuto was hovering over him, hands on his hips and a wide grin on his sweaty face, not even pretending to look mildly winded as he beamed down at them, the setting sun behind him actually making him glisten like the unholy spawn of Apollo and a swimsuit model.

That bastard.

 ***** When your captain arranges a three hour last minute practice, you go, even when you rather being doing literally anything else. After all, how else are you supposed to find out what runs through that giant, pointy-haired bastard's head?

Words: 1482, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Haikyuu!!

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Konoha Akinori, Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji, Onaga Wataru, Komi Haruki, Sarukui Yamato, Washio Tatsuki

Additional Tags: farewell zine, Fukuroudani, Goodbye Third Years

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/39yzPIJ

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq #ao3feed #fanfic #haikyu #ハイキュー!!

[ruki--mukami]

Ruki reacting to Haruki barging in his and Clara's bedroom when he was making out with Clara and becoming an protective son and pushing his father away from his mother.

*barging into your both's bedroom*

MOMMY! LOOK WHAT I MADE---!

*shocked before running towards both of you and pushing you away from Clara*

NO DADDY! SHE'S MY MOMMY! DON'T TOUCH HER!

*hugs Clara tightly while glaring at Ruki making her chuckle*

"Oi, Haru. I told you countless times to knock before entering our room," said Ruki as he reluctantly pulled back from Clara. While he seemed impressed with his son's new painting, the Vampire could've done without the temper tantrum and the needless separation. "How dare you speak to your own father in this way... It looks like I need to discipline you from square one. Prepare yourself."

The whole entire time, Ruki assumed a rather dark visage, indicative of the 'punishment' to come. With splayed hands, he neared his son and snatched him from Clara, only to tickle his stomach in the end.

"I've got you now," he teased, hoping to make his son laugh. "This is what you get for interrupting our time together."

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #ask #rp #diabolik lovers rp #clara #haruki mukami #fantasticchaosdaze

[sasorikigai]

Halloween Inbox Shenanigans || @heamatic​ || accepting 

Hanzo has spent an eternity searching for a face to bring him solace; as his chronicle began with a river that screamed misconstrued conception and abuse, inbetween the rocky jagged shores of his conscious, struggling with a voyage of a lifetime. With his skull strung up by a system of unseen cords, so that it appeared to be hanged, disembodied, in the still, heavy air, and it had been crowned with a wreath of fiery expansion, the bloody chambers of his lungs emitting the darkest smoke as Scorpion weaved a sanguine tapestry out of his intangible skin. Now, Hanzo Hasashi sits in front of the desk, with the venom of his gaze honed towards a stack of paperworks, with deep, etched impression of his tribulation sharpened in utter concentration. Despite his psyche sinking into the ribs of the work that needs to be done, Hanzo’s face holds infinitely more than hope when he turns his attention back to his beloved son. Sloppy and uneasy Haruki’s composure may be, but the lanky boy is a strong one, indeed. 

He doesn’t even have to look at the pumpkin to know that it holds his own reflection; for Hanzo still breathes the same world, tucked full of intensity and magnitude; it’s a heavy fissure of the past, still causing him an inevitable affliction. Maybe he was living in a universe where the past can be rewritten and the future could be his for the taking - truly his, now, not as part of just some old saying when he’s told that the future is his. He knows that he’s not really in control, and he doesn’t know what he can or should or want to do and he’s overwhelmed by the possibilities. Both his thoughts and tongue curve around his lips, as they stretch into the slightest of smile. A rarity of twinkle that embeds into the depth of his starlight gaze as the aureate hardness of his form pivots. 

“I did not realize I wear such a death glare, even in my absolute concentration,” although the likeness could be passed for someone else - what could he, a semi-professional artist, expect from a five-year-old and Cassie Cage? - but nevertheless, all of that darkness and light captured in the eyes of their conscious, means so much more than a single word that they can speak. Maybe Hanzo was staring into the depth of his soul, maybe he still was dreaming of the world that could triumph against vehement, unconquerable evil as Hanzo’s hardened, etched visage visibly softens, reflecting the soft crackle in the fireplace. After all, all great things must first wear terrifying and monstrous masks in order to inscribe himself on the hearts of humanity. “We would have to light a candle and put it inside, then perhaps it will take so much of my resemblance.” 

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ seeking reconciliation with his own humanity (iii) #(pending haruki tag) #heamatic

[shuoshuzhe-a]

❝ don’t worry, i’ll take care of it! ❞

[ things you want to hear / accepting / @bubblemints ]

            a dumbfounded look crosses haruki’s visage as hara takes the items from his hands. his hands still raised as if he was holding something, he stares at hara’s tall figure. hara ?? taking care of things ?? haruki might be sick and running a slight fever, but he doesn’t think it’s quite high enough for him to start having delusions that hara wants to help him do something.            before he knows it, he’s moving to stop hara from ambling off and haruki pushes himself to his toes so he could reach hara’s forehead with the back of his hand, “ are you running a fever too ?? ” he asks, voice scratchy. “ maybe you should go home before i pass it to you…don’t you have a game coming up ?? ” he asks, worry crossing his face. the last thing he wants was to be the cause of hara’s future discomforts…            yet, he won’t verbally admit it ( because he doesn’t want to be made fun of ), when he heard hara speak those words. ‘ don’t worry, i’ll take care of it !! ’…haruki’s heart skipped a beat, as if it’s been just waiting to be told that. the male will never admit to it, but a part of him — sometimes — just wishes to be taken care of.

#bubblemints #thanks for sending! #( haruki | answered )

[pythonissam-despair]

❧ jus accrescendi | Chapter 6 Motive 6.2

Coming off of such a harsh battle, it’s natural that emotions and tempers are high. Between the newest face in a string of many recently and the horrific implications of what Wonderland is supposed to be: the Magi were quick to begin interrogating the lilac-haired Witch while also running to check on the fallen Moriko and Fuyu.

Checking the death duo over, both appear to be barely breathing. Fuyu lays there in their strange new outfit, their Soul Gem fractured in places and completely crumbled in other parts. Moriko, likewise,  is also nearly encrusted in crystals, ranging in color but most the oily black of their and Fuyu's attack. The ones on their chest do rise and fall, as if in deep sleep.

There was some relief that both seemed to still be among the living if indicated by their breathing. But, when checking their pulses... only Fuyu possessed one.

While the implications of that was terrifying enough, it looked like the group had a new enemy to deal with. Currently, they were arguing over the logistics of killing their partner, the Red Queen.

Letting out a weighty sigh, the Magu’s shadow shoves his hands into his pockets, bowing his head.

“Fine. Yes, I admit… Dornröschen wanted you all to die. She’s far more controlling than we are. I don’t really blame you for doing what you did…? But you’ve just given us a big headache! Now we’re sustaining this all by ourself.” they gesture behind them to their festering witch form.

Katrine, meanwhile, looks over from the crown she was currently examining. Placing it on, she catches sight of the purple figure and her eyes widen a bit.

"Oh... The... King? Are you...? What's your name?"

From their anger, the being shifts into quiet surprise at the question.

“Me…?” their voice almost sounds kinder for a moment, “We believe people have gotten to calling us “The King of Hearts”, as we no longer possess an identity of our own.” turning around, they point to The Puppet behind them.

“We are Mnemosyne. We- … Well, actually I am a broken fragment. The visage you see now is an incomplete and unstable sliver of Wonderland’s progenitor. I’m the cornerstone of the First Grand Witch of Wonderland. Combined, we are the Witch of Memories. Together with the Witch of Regeneration, we are Wonderland.”

A lot of information to take in, surely. The name ‘Hiro Shiroyama’ had popped up occasionally throughout Wonderland, but it was hardly as consistent as Rosetta’s influence. For all of the information they stored, it seems they were truly forgotten by all -- even themself.

But, regardless, there was only so much time for chatter in this situation.

“One of you asked what we want, right? We don’t often leave our forgotten domain soooo… it’s a special occasion~!” they clap their hands together and giggle, “Lucky, lucky~ Not even Haruki, Kagemori, or little Reiko have ever seen us before~!”

They're... wow. Okay. They're calling everyone out today.

“We’ll make it easy! We have a…. Hm! I guess we can call it a game for all of you!”

“See, unlike what you all seem to think: Chuubey has no power here. We do. And, well, I don’t like wasting time! The progenitor, Hiro Shiroyama, wanted revenge on all those nasty, nasty ultimates for what they did to a certain someone! But, we weren’t able to make as big of changes as we hoped. “

“Rosetta, the Queen, also wanted change but couldn’t get it… Now one of you wants this change, but Wonderland is… fraying.”

“It’s not very hard to keep you here indefinitely, or to kill you ourself, but… it’s not technically what Mnemosyne’s interests are.” 

With a chuckle, the King seems to look around at all of you. Their smile is warm and inviting.

“The progenitor always believed that “the end justifies the means”. They had a goal, but failed! So… We want someone to complete their goal. Ideally we wish to see the third mastermind of Wonderland succeed in their plans, but if we keep going as we have… everyone who's died here has lost their lives for nothing! So, we want to give you all a fighting chance~!”

The fragment does a spin, holding their arms outstretched as they land facing back to you all.

“So! Here’s the game we’ll be playing. You all will have one more trial! Nobody has to die for it to happen this time -- if you don’t want anyone to -- but your job, dear mortals, is to find the truth!"

They pause for dramatic effect, looking around.

"You all want to leave, right? Well... if you can find which one of you is trying to use my power, then I'll let you all utilize the magic instead!" they hum, swaying back on their heels, "There's a reason Chuubey hasn't shown up here yet. I'm preeeeeetty sure they expected us all to kill each other, so they probably didn't see need to bother. I haven't told them any of this.... yet!"

There are some mixed reactions, understandably. Some are amazed that a call-out post is all they have to do to go home, while others are understandably more skeptical.

"Everyone? Including the Mastermind?" Masami pipes up. "What if we fail, then? Do we stay in here until nobody's left? For your own amusement?"

The fragment shakes their head.

"Nope, nope! If you win the game, you aren't obligated to include the Mastermind's desires! Though, if you hear out their wish and make it -- we don't care! It's not our concern~" 

They hum for a moment before their expression falls a bit.

"If you fail, you all will become Witches. Your lives, and despair, will fuel our Mastermind's ultimate wish. After all, it's not like we can rely on any of your late friends... it seems Moriko and Fuyu have been making sure of that."

“So! What do you all say? We'll be honest, you don't have too much choice! But if you prefer a never-ending killing game... that's very stupid of you!"

#plot #pythonissam despair #mnemosyne #chapter six #moriko #fuyu

[malibvmuses]

“  music is all about communication  .  ”

about  /  verses

threads  /  answered  /  visage  /  headcanons  /  musing  /  aesthetic  /  misc

if you’d like to interact with HARUKI  ,  like this post for a starter

#( haruki. ) #( haruki | verses )

[femmesdicietdailleurs]

Des hommes sans femmes Haruki Murakami (Écrivain) Neuf ans après Saules aveugles, femme endormie, le retour d'Haruki Murakami à la forme courte. Dans ce recueil comme un clin d'œil à Hemingway, des hommes cherchent des femmes qui les abandonnent ou qui sont sur le point de le faire. Musique, solitude, rêve et mélancolie, le maître au sommet de son art. " Ce que je veux aborder avec ce recueil ? En un mot, l'isolement, et ses conséquences émotionnelles. " Des hommes sans femmes " en est l'illustration concrète. C'est le titre qui m'a d'abord saisi (bien sûr, le recueil éponyme d'Hemingway n'y est pas étranger) et les histoires ont suivi. Chacune de ces histoires est venue en résonance du titre. Pourquoi Des hommes sans femmes ? Je n'en sais rien. D'une façon ou d'une autre, ce titre s'est enraciné dans mon esprit, comme une graine déposée dans un champ par le hasard du vent. " "Ce mutisme, cependant, ne gênait pas Kafuku. Il n’était guère friand de conversations futiles. Il ne détestait pas les véritables échanges avec un ami proche, mais sinon il préférait le silence. Il s’enfonça dans le siège passager et contempla d’un œil vague les rues qui défilaient. Lui qui avait toujours occupé la place du chauffeur voyait à présent ce paysage urbain d’un œil neuf. Sur l’avenue Gai-en-sei-dori, très fréquentée, il la fit se garer à plusieurs reprises, en lui faisant effectuer plusieurs créneaux, et elle les réussit chaque fois avec beaucoup de précision. Elle était vraiment excellente. Ses réflexes en tant que pilote également. Lorsqu’ils devaient attendre assez longuement à un feu rouge, elle se mettait à fumer. Les Marlboro étaient sa marque favorite, semblait-il. Mais dès que le feu passait au vert, elle éteignait sa cigarette. Elle ne fumait pas en conduisant. Il n’y avait pas de traces de rouge à lèvres sur ses mégots. Ses ongles n’étaient pas manucurés. Pas une ombre de maquillage sur son visage." « Un gentleman ne parle jamais des femmes avec qui il a couché ni des impôts qu'il a payés, me confia-t-il un jour. — De qui est cette maxime ? — De moi, répondit-il, sans changer d'expression. Même si, de temps à autre, il me faut bien parler impôts avec mon conseiller fiscal. »

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