while i work on a new theme and the like, feel free to like this post for nice in your inbox ( or a small starter ) !

hello, everyone! guess who’s rewatching ham/at/ora? i’ll be following a lot of people soon but this is just a heads up that i will be trying to return to this blog under a semi-hiatus -- i want to be more active here again. 

YOU DON’T HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR NOT WRITING.   say it with me, say it loud, say it over and over until you really feel it.  you do not have to apologize for taking your time.  you do not have to apologize for lacking muse.  you do not have to apologize for favoring one thread over another.   you do not have to apologize for favoring one user over another.   this is supposed to be a hobby for fun, right?  i am guilty of this as well, but we should not have to feel like we are clocking in for a job when we’re here.  we should not look at our drafts with dread.   if you don’t like a thread any more, DROP IT.   if you don’t click with someone, don’t force yourself to interact with them.  and you don’t have to apologize for doing things your way, on your time. <3

omindlessdepravity

While   his   spirit   had   certainly   been   present   in   some   form   that   night , comforting   Nice ,   speaking   to   Hajime ,   &&   calling   for   his   brother ,   Skill   himself   had   been   unaware ;   the   actions   largely   being   something   akin   to   a   fever   dream ,   something   that   he   had   felt   the   vaguest   images   of   enter   his   mind.   If   anything ,   it   was   more   like   a   series   of   concepts   ——   Skill’s   spirit   helping   in   the   physical   world   while   his   conscious   mind   only   was   aware   of   the   distant   feeling   of   missing   his   brother.   That   night ,   he’d   been   staying   in   one   of   the   several   temporary   abandoned   buildings   he’d   made   his   home ,  &&   sat   against   the   wall ,   curling   into   himself ,   hands   grasping   at   the   empty   space   where   his   heart   should   have   been ,   trembling ,   sweat   breaking   out   all   across   his   face ,   as   he   screamed ,   his   face   pressed   into   his   knees   to   muffle   the   sound.   It   had   hurt   like   his   heart   was   being   removed   once   again ,   &&   he   had   had   no   idea   why ,   assuming   that   it   was   just   phantom   pain ,   or   his   body   finally   realizing   that   he   was   lacking   the   most   important   organ   …   at   that   point ,   he   hadn’t   reunited   with   his   brother   &&   therefore   knew   nothing   about   where   his   heart   was ,   so   he   had   nothing   to   go   on.

At   first   he   was   bewildered   as   to   why   seeing   him   would   instill   doubt   that   it   was   even   him   in   his   childhood   friend   ——   of   course   it   was   him ,   why   wouldn’t   it   be   ?   ——   until   he   remembered   that   yes ,   he   was   technically   dead ,   &&   Nice   had   most   likely   been   told   about   Skill’s   supposed   death   by   his   brother   or   by   someone   else.   Skill   had   known   that   Art   &&   Nice   were   still   speaking ;   Art   had   often   come   home   to   their   shared   apartment   telling   him   about   Nice’s   latest   escapades ,   having   explained   in   the   beginning   of   their   reunion   that   telling   Nice   about   Skill’s   revival   would   take   some   time   to   plan.   After   all ,   Skill’s   death   had   been   long   enough   ago   for   Nice   to   have   moved   past   it   …   though ,   with   the   vest   he   was   wearing   that   had   originally   belonged   to   Skill ,   he   wondered   if   maybe   Nice   hadn’t   moved   entirely   on.

So   …   as   it   seemed ,   Nice   was   under   the   impression   that   Skill   had   died   &&   been   buried   (   he   shivered ;   he   really   didn’t   ever   want   to   visit   his   own   grave ,   though   he   had   been   trying   to   work   up   the   courage   ever   since   he   suggested   it   to   Art   ) ,   &&   that   that   was   that.   He   hadn’t   even   seen   Skill   since   he’d   been   taken   away   for   the   testing ,   so   certainly   the   visor   &&   artificial   arms   &&   legs   must   have   thrown   him   off ,   or   were   going   to ,   if   he   hadn’t   noticed   everything   already.

         ❝   it’s   me   …   nice   …   ❞

The   name   felt   so   familiar   on   his   tongue   he   almost   felt   like   he   was   back   at   Facultas   again ,   standing   on   the   roof ,   pointing   up   excitedly   at   the   Landmark   Tower.   Initially ,   he’d   used   the   honorific   with   Nice’s   name   out   of   habit   (   while   still   excitable ,   he’d   become   much   more   polite   upon   greeting   people   the   first   two   or   three   times   ) ,   but   now   that   everything   was   settling   in ,   the   “naisu”   slipped   off   his   tongue   easily ,   the   same   as   the   familiar   “nii-san”   he   couldn’t   bring   himself   to   stop   calling   Art.

What   did   a   person   even    say   after   that ,   though   ?   People   who   had   been   through   the   things   Art ,   Skill ,   &&   Nice   had   didn’t   just   pick   up   where   they   left   off.   &&   while   it   wasn’t   strange   for   Nice   to   be   alive ,   considering   everything   that   had   happened ,   seeing   Skill   alive   was   a   different   story   entirely.

He   felt   his   right   hand   come   up   to   the   hollow   spot   in   his   chest   where   a   beat   should   have   been———   a   subconscious   act   to   calm   himself ,   but   a   telling   one ,   especially   with   exactly   who   it   was   standing   in   front   of   him.

Unlike   with   his   brother ,   he   didn’t   feel   a   need   to   run   &&   throw   his   arms   around   Nice.   Instead ,   he   almost   felt   more   like   he   should   be   shying   away ;   the   beating   of   his   heart   under   Nice’s   skin   was   inaudible ,   but   he   was   hyperaware   of   it ,   anyway.   Instead   of   being   his   hyperactive   self ,   he   seemed   almost   to   gravitate   towards   the   back   wall   of   the   shop ,   where   he   didn’t   feel   so   …   exposed.

Why   ?   Why ,   when   Nice   was   his   best   friend   ?

On   that   night ,   you   were   looking   for   me ,   but   you   found   Hajime   instead. Why   did   you   leave   me   there ,   Nice   ? Why   didn’t   either   of   you   look   for   me   …   ? When   such   horrible   things   were   happening   … It’s   like   you   didn’t   even   notice   I   had   been   stolen   away   …

He   swallowed   his   ugliness.   It   seemed   he   was   still   disgusting ,   after   all.

         ❝   …   it’s   me.   i’m   not   a   dream ,   &&   i’m   not   a   hallucination.   you   can   …   ❞   He   took   a   deep   breath ,   &&   then   stuck   out   the   arm   he’d   had   up   by   the   hollow   spot   that   used   to   house   his   heart ,   the   metal   flashing   as   it   caught   the   light ,   making   him   all   too   aware   of   the   artificiality   of   his   body.    ❝   …   you   can   touch   me   to   check ,   if   you   want.   i’m   …   ❞   Another   deep   breath.   ❝   …   i’m   sorry   i   …   that   i   look   so   …  ❞

He   didn’t   finish ,   instead   looking   down   &&   off   to   the   side   so   he   wouldn’t   dissolve   into   tears.

To say that seeing Skill alive was a mere shock was an understatement; it was something that shook him down to his very core, all thought wiped clear from his mind as he struggled to wrap his mind around the concept, to find some sort of understanding to what he was seeing. It had been years since he had seen Skill, and even then, they had been nothing more than children at Facultas. It was moreso the fact that for years, they had believed Skill to be dead ; and yet, he was somehow alive, his heart pounding within Nice’s chest.

It was a fact ( a lie ) he had thought he had made peace with over the years, yet he’d be a liar to deny the guilt that crept up upon him; the knowing that he had ultimately failed to save Skill. It felt as though there was a knife sinking into his chest again, feeling himself choke on the truth before is eyes, undeniably present and real. The vest he wore felt heavy, leaden with the sudden weight it carried -- the same vest that had been Skill’s, that he had intended to return but never had the heart to get rid of, even when it had brought immense grief. Deep down, it had taken years to come to terms with the fact that he hadn’t saved Skill; his grief was a burden he carried, woven into the fabric of the vest. Grief, that, he wore, metaphorically and physically. 

How chilling it must be, for Skill to see his own image nearly spat back at him, a living reminder that he was out of place; to see the one who had vowed (failed) to rescue him wearing his vest.

It took time before what he was seeing began to sink in -- the horrifying reality that was the reconstructed artificial parts of Skill’s body. Cold sweat slid down his spine, the gravity of the situation collapsing on top of him all at once, tearing down the façade he had been living under for so long. Grief that he past years ago, buried deep to come to terms with it, began to swell up again in a sickening wave, crawling its way up his chest and into his throat. As Skill’s hand rose to his own chest, there was piercing agony within his own, the organ beating within clenching. 

Words were caught in his chest, jaw slacked just slightly as his lips tried to form words, to say anything, yet the silence only thickened. Swallowing with some difficulty, Nice tried to slow down the wild beating within his chest, ignore the knife sinking in between his ribs, old wounds he had carefully healed torn open again. He was aware in the back of his mind, knowing that Skill was just as panicked -- he could see it; the way Skill moved; the shakiness of his voice; how he withdrew into himself, closing himself off. 

He blinks as Skill speaks, quiet voice breaking his stupor; the voice reminds him of reality. Skill’s arm extends towards him, light flashing off of metal -- an offering, one given with difficulty, exposing a moment of vulnerability. Nice can hear the waver in Skill’s voice, the faint hitch of breath as he tries to steady himself in between words, already apologising as if this were his fault. 

Nice takes a few steps forward, closing the gap; at first, the feeling of metal causes him to instinctively pause as his fingertips touch Skill’s. He tries to remember a time where he might have felt the warmth of a smaller hand within his own when they were younger, clasping his hand back as he drug them off on some adventure. It almost made him bitter, now; there’s another knife stabbing into his chest, guilt, as if this were his own doing. ( it was something he never would have been able to change; Skill had lost parts of himself before he could have known, yet the weight of consequence remained the same. ) 

“Don’t apologise.” the words somehow make their way out of his throat, somewhat steady -- if anything, he was the one who owed an apology, yet it was too much to think about now. His head was beginning to ache with warning of a headache, which was ignored along with the strain of his throat, forcing his grief down, down, in attempt to bury it deep again. “I know you’re real; you’re still ... Skill.” He tries to ignore the strain of his voice, threatening to break.  

Sliding his fingers forward, he tries to fit his own between Skill’s, ignoring the lack of warmth that once might have been there -- regardless of how he looked now, this was still Skill. 

He’s struggling to say his next words, keep his grief contained, to apologise as his gaze remains fixated on what he can see of Skill’s face, feeling his gut twisting -- it makes him wonder how long Skill had endured all of this since he had gone missing, since the Facultas staff had discovered his minimum. “I ...” he can heard his voice waver, beginning to crack, yet he tries to ignore the stinging in his eyes, still in too much shock to fully process what was happening, how surreal it all felt. 

I’m so sorry for not being able to come back for you, for your suffering -- for everything. I never meant to leave you there.

Why are people so envious of others? Why do people look down on each other? Why does it happen like that!? It pisses me off…

private | possibly selective | written by ivar

hey. i love you all. i passed 100 followers for the first time in a long, long while today — it’s been 2 years since i was last able to completely overcome my social anxiety and open my roleplay blogs to public interaction. this blog started out with a singular tweet about maybe, just maybe, wanting to roleplay dazai osamu, that my friends just wouldn’t let me forget. but i’m glad they threatened me with so many knife and gun emojis to become tumblr user unoxidize, i really am. no matter who you are, so long as you’re here, you’ve helped me rediscover my love for writing that i had lost in the years before. whether you’ve only replied to my posts once upon a time, or regularly kept me up plotting until three in the morning, thank you. my experience wouldn’t be the same without all of you. ( art credit. )

my reason living. ♡

@artisaen​. @bravesperias​. @cohrode​. @hyperdetect​. @letheal​. @mujonainu​. @vaingore​.

( dramatic lens flare. )

@affectae​. @afterflood​. @auconis​. @avenirre​. @heartoire​. @kaeiryo​. @maquiavillain​. @omindlessdepravity​. @passionedflame​. @perishen​. @spectrumsound​.

                                          beyond this was only darkness;                                            UNKNOWING & UNKNOWN.

                     ind. rashoumon of bungou stray dogs. established 3.27.2017.

Do you think Nice ever accidentally uses his Minimum at home or something? Like when he's listening to music, and say he has a revelation or something and snaps a finger. I'm assuming he probably has a good hold over his Minimum and it's triggers, but the idea of it is really funny to me for some reason ghrbrhgb AND IF HE DID do you think he'd go anywhere, or do you think he has to have a speed/direction/etc in mind to actually travel?

I feel he does – it’s moreso on a moment’s impulse, usually; we see this in canon as well, when he sees Hajime drop her hamburger & use his minimum to catch it (I’ll provide a screencap whenever I can find one). I personally don’t see him as the person to snap his fingers when realising things (I’ll write a headcanon about the gestures I’ve noticed he makes in another post), however that is pretty funny akjds

This is kinda silly but I feel like, going along with my headcanon about his relation to music, he probably does snap his fingers at random sometimes while listening to music & can move through the sound he’s listening to. Quite literally feeling the music, aha

Personally, I don’t think he would be referred to as one of the strongest minimum holders if he didn’t have a fair amount of control over his minimum, however, i don’t think it’s something he can just snap his fingers without at least a sense of direction or intent in mind. Whenever he utilises his minimum, we see ques that could be see as directional: in episodes 1 or 2, where he draws his foot back & braces himself (I see this as a sort of ‘windup’ to increase speed / force at which he travels through sound), & the fact that we often see him using his minimum by putting focus on where he wants to go, or at the very least, looking in that direction. 

For example, take his fight against Ratio. He specifically fixates on travelling to the other side of the room once Ratio enters, and he also makes a comment on how he can’t see anything. I think it is possible for him to travel with limited sight, yet it makes it more difficult to focus on travelling to point B from point A. (However, I do suspect that somehow he may be able to sense the things around him based on the radius of his sound’s reach and everything in his minimum’s range, but I’m still debating on this!) Another thing: obviously, he knows it’s Ratio, yet Nice can’t see him – Nice has little clue where Ratio is through the dust. Ratio, where are you? 

As we see Ratio punch him, Nice is obviously ready, as Ratio has entered his visual field and he has a sense of where he is, and uses this to his advantage. 

We also see this in his fight with Art -- his intention is very direct. He knows where he wants to travel -- a specific direction with intention behind it.

In addition, in his fight against Moral, we see what I mentioned before – leaning forward and drawing one leg back to move towards Moral very quickly.  I think this changes during the fight because, again, he’s getting a feel for what Moral is going to do and in a way, mirroring his movements. He knows what moves Moral is going to make next, which makes it much easier for him in this fight – he can predict where he needs to be and how to execute his movements. 

This is probably poorly explained and I’ll clean this headcanon up in a bit but?? hopefully this makes a little sense. I could also be wrong, but these are just a couple things I’ve noticed! 

i will be on hopefully this weekend! i have some hc asks sitting in my drafts to be posted, i've just been busy with work for uni. 

anyone mind sending me some asks? i’m rather busy at the moment, as school takes priority above all else, but some small things would be nice! <:

*shows up at your front door* can I come over

because these seem to get passed around quicker and are a lot more simple than making a graphic, it’d be nice if you wouldn’t mind reblogging this if you’re interested in rping with a botw centric link with flexible verses. it’s much appreciated !!

akebara:

「 ❈ 」 “Yes, I will.” After all, Art wouldn’t have a choice but to sleep if he passed out from exhaustion ( and he was well on his way to doing just that )–no mention of how long he would sleep, though. At the offer, he held up a hand before standing. “Hold on.” He walked away and returned a moment later with his own fork. “It would be awkward to share with only one fork,” he explained. It meant that only one would be able to take a bite at a time. Resigned to his fate, he picked up another forkful of food and ate it. In trying to help his friend, it turned out, he ended up helping himself too.

And it was only after he had a bit of food in his stomach that he realised how hungry he was, so excuse him as he takes a few more bites. Good thing he’d gotten plenty of food.

Nice felt a bit of relief to have Art oblige; he was grateful that Art was willing to eat, as he was often concerned for the other’s health, which was neglected more often than not. He knew Art would sooner work himself to death before remembering to take care of himself or take the time off. Allowing his friend to eat however much he wanted, Nice only took a few forkfuls, forcing himself to eat slowly for once instead of scarfing it down in seconds. It didn’t take long for the two of them to finish the plate; he purposefully left the last bite remaining for Art, setting aside his own fork to give a wave of his hand; “Go ahead. All yours.”

A yawn suddenly comes over him, stretching briefly to try to loosen some of his tension, hands coming down to fold behind his head. Lazily, his head rolls to peer at Art, pausing a moment before speaking. “You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you? Maybe you should take some time off.” 

rules: tell us some of your favorite characters from ten fictional works.

haise sasaki / kaneki ken - tokyo ghoul :re.

mao - hamatora

velnar - chain chronicle

jaehee kang - mystic messenger

noctis lucis caelum - final fantasy xv

hinoka hoshido - fire emblem fates

shizuo heiwajima - durarara!!

papika - flip flappers

mika kagehira - ensemble stars

sarutobi sasuke - sengoku basara

tagged by: @unoxidize (thank you, jianyu ♥) tagging: @akebara, @omindlessdepravity, @ghoulpatch, @falsequerade, uh,, @queensoath, whomever else may want to do this!

hi, this is silas. just logging on to say i love ivar very much, && they are very smart && very talented, && i am very excited to see their nice, && i appreciate them a lot, && they do the best they can for other people, && i am very lucky to have them as a friend. gives them a kiss. ❤

akebara:

「 ❈ 」 Touche, Nice. Art felt the urge to protest, but couldn’t very well neglect his own health while attempting to help his friend’s ( lead by example and all that; Nice wasn’t as likely to follow his advice if he didn’t take it as well ). With a resigned sigh, he leaned down to take the offered bite, chewing and swallowing neatly before responding. “I’ve been busy with work.” Not a good excuse,and he knew that. “I did already eat, though, and I’ll sleep when I get home.” At least, he thought he ate lunch–or was that breakfast?

An eyebrow lifts at the response -- really, Art? Are you actually taking care of yourself? Nice said nothing for a moment, stabbing into his food once more, he ate the second bite before, yet again, offering the next to Art, gaze steady. “Will you actually sleep, Art?” It’s meant to be teasing, but his concern is clear enough. “I doubt you ate recently, and how long will you sleep?” He shifts, leaning forward slightly, with a faint smile -- one that is only half-hearted, because he could guess without needing to be told. Perhaps he knew a few of Art’s habits as well as his best friend knew his own. 

The plate is nudged slightly towards the other, offering -- “Really, eat something. I don’t mind sharing.”

“Hey -- you know that flower shop, anem...anemoneme, amoneme... -- anememegmh --”