#𝙖𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙨.    independent & private multimuse (fandoms include: ffvii, ffxv, ffx, fe3h, jjk, p5r, knb, loz, & cowboy bebop).  written by mari, 20+. (est.19/05/20). using both beta & legacy as for now!
  ↳  rules, muses.

note on interactions: i kiiinda don’t make starter calls anymore! tbh the best way to thread with me is thru continuing asks.. sometimes i rb memes that i solely use as starter calls, but if there’s ever an ask reply that you (the mutual reading this, close friend or not!) find has thread potential, i heavily encourage you to reply! 

The Key Animations of Toshihiro Kawamoto

is this thing on🎤

two in the afternoon, and heat licks the stiff air.  her ribs weigh down with it– the shade does nothing but give her more cause to stop, lower the gun a second later than she intended to.  some would call it a practical impulse ( better safe than sorry, better alive than dead ), but she has never been driven by impulse for most of her life– elektra measures her life in strides of certainty.  ( a graduation certificate, somewhere in her quarters, to prove that to herself: and she’d changed her mind not long after. )   

“sorry.”  professional, concise, time spent in service bubbling just under it– and breaking, decaying with every second. “ i had to be sure. the blood… ”  it’s not yours is it? someone dead, someone dying, killed.  she looks again.  @aicidos is not a civilian, is not injured, is somewhere she ought not be anywhere near,  is someone with a face that scratches something familiar in the back of her mind.   

her voice tightens, her calf-muscles coiled to run the moment she has her answer. “how long ago was it?”   / sc.       

she supposes her arrogance led her here, hands still bound behind her back and that man’s blood getting drier across her face the more she hurried down and away from the stairs that led to the church. she takes a turn to the first alleyway along her path, if only to collect herself as briefly as her mind allows, but the image is still there. mao yenrai, or the shell that used to house him, and that mind-numbing opera that a part of faye hoped would never end— not without her coming up with a plan by the last act, at least. despite everything, she’s alive, but that could change at any moment.

it’s not long before she’s staring at the barrel of another gun, and then at the woman’s eyes. case in point. 

“not really fair that i can’t even hold a knife to a gunfight, don’t you think?” faye tries her luck, as she usually does, and squirms briefly to reveal her lack of hands at the moment. when she apologizes, faye remains still. so, she thinks, not more manpower for vicious? they had run a background check for her, after all. “…the evening mass should still be going right about now,” somehow, the stranger strikes her as the kind who would get her meaning— which was worrying in and of itself. and yet, faye is still not quite in a position to hold any leverage. “if you help me with these cuffs, i can give you the details.” then, an overdue pause, just as faye finds herself repeating the same mistake: getting ahead of herself. “hey, you’re not with them, are you? you… don’t seem like a cop.”

a bit of a bizarre note but i do want to clarify that when i write miss faye valentine it’s with the sub in mind…

@yishuns + starter call ( accepting ! ): 008. the back row of an empty movie theater . by popular demand. akeshu

despite how all-encompassing it is always, the severity of this reality creeps at him in the strangest ways: a rerun of a film he once watched as a child, in which time travel did more harm than good, and the protagonist’s fate could either be worsened or accepted as it originally was intended. akira thought he remembered a different ending, one befitting a cautionary tale of science fiction. and yet, this time, the character used his powers to change the past and, along with it, the future. this time, he got away with it. everything.

the credits roll, and he can only stare impassively at the screen. distantly, he thought of lavenza’s hesitance to reveal what akira took upon himself to admit in front of and for the others: they had wished for this. a movie ending only a child could come up with, included.

“strange. there was a time i thought this ending would make me happier.” he doesn’t want to elaborate beyond that, but he also doesn’t quite know if he can navigate the alternative right now, either. “i’m sorry, i roped you into this.” he adds, simply, perhaps as his way out of his own meaning, “next time, you can pick the movie.”

some meme.   ♡  * @spirestar.

upon akira’s request this time, a hole had been carved into their schedules, one just big enough to fit a game of billiards. akira had even arrived half an hour earlier than the agreed time, if only to have a solo game to himself; the self-imposed handicap was still on, after all, and he was stubborn to tear at it, one game at a time. the less, the merrier.

“ah, you know, i actually never really liked playing nine-ball with others.”

akira’s admission was absurd, especially as he took it upon himself to fix the balls upon the table, taking his time to do so, as he did with most things when he could afford it. in his own unconventional way of tackling things, at last, he placed the ninth ball at the center of the formation like one would a heart, and only then continued speaking. “it didn’t make sense to me why anyone would want to play the version where the scales could tip so disproportionately. maybe you nearly pocket all the balls, but if you fail the last shot and i don’t, it’s still my entire win, despite your overall performance—” 

he found that akechi’s interruption accomplished two things. one, and perhaps the most important, it prompted a reaction, and he was certain he quite enjoyed drawing those out of him. two, he accepted the cue stick offered his way, nodding by way of a wordless thank you. 

“…you didn’t let me finish,” his voice’s mild lilt was so unlike a reprimand, despite being exactly that. perhaps the first of its kind— properly directed to akechi, anyway. “i said it didn’t make sense, but it does now. hey, do you mind if i break?” by which he meant, excuse me, i’ll go ahead now. the first move, he found, set the tempo. not the result per se, but the feel in his hand. thoughtfully abrupt, steady with intent, yet not overthinking it. breaking the formation resulted in reverberations of all sorts as the balls were swept by the physics he measured, but the next shots were the ones he enjoyed best. picking a proper target, a swift thrust of the cue stick, and where akira’s technique made it sound like a sharp stab, he thought akechi’s sounded like a distant gunshot, certain in its aim. 

it remained in his head long after his turn ended.

“up until now,” he started again, voice quieter, now that the tables in his perimeter had started to fill up with office workers off the clock, or teens making up their own rules. “i had been unable to see that’s exactly the charm of it, how fast everything changes. a losing position can be turned on its head with just one mistake by your opponent.” there’s a thrill to it, yes, but more so, a brutal hope. akira blinked, slowly, and peeled off his sight from akechi and onto the ninth ball again as he shrugged, “…or, something like that.”

P5R ✰ Joker

babe don’t scratch your enclosure i worked hard on that

oh TRUST i will be coming to collect you and your little gremlins !!

@heartinhands + starter call ( accepting ! ): 025.   an abandoned scrapyard . (spike for faye! :])

in the aftermath of a mission she can’t quite wrap her head around, faye finishes her smoke. to age is to draw your luck every day and somehow win— in that regard, the chessmaster also triumphed, along with probably getting away scot-free from this. she wonders if this makes hex half the person he used to be, or a new man altogether; in that sense, she sees herself in him, but it all ultimately hits a wall, as this matter usually did. all she knows for certain now is that memory can be lost, too, without anything particularly grand happening. “alright,” she flicks the cigarette, “let’s go.” 

bohemian junkheap is a fitting name, more so for the people than the place itself. by now, she had tuned out the overlap of voices trying to offer or sell something, but the hand that darted to grab her arm was difficult to predict with her helmet on again. a woman, and an elderly one at that. her offer to read her tarot deck in exchange for woolongs was not enticing in the slightest, but when it was demoted to merely asking for three of her cigarettes in exchange for two readings, faye was listening again. they had gone all the way here, she might at least get something out of this.

“deal, grandma,” and she yanks spike by the arm, nudging him forward and announcing without his permission, “he’ll go first.”