⸙ 𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎 ... is an independent & selective depiction of YOSHIKI TSUJINAKA of mokumokuren's 𝗛𝗜𝗞𝗔𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗔 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗔 𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗨. haunted by 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 28, she/her (CET) ! not spoiler free ! rules under the cut !
A HYMN FOR THE GHOSTS THAT NEVER LEAVE ... boyhood shadowed by narrow streets and whispering shadows, a life measured in suppressed breaths and the quiet echoes of longing, eyes cast down beneath the weight of unspoken truths, love as a requiem, guilt woven through every fiber of being, affection folded like a secret note never sent, where silence speaks with a voice sharper than any cry.
𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄. First of all: hi and thank you for poppin' by!! you can call me Light, she/her, 28 & I'm from Germany, meaning I live in the Central European Time zone! I’m a college student who works part-time, which generally gives me a lot of flexibility in my daily schedule. There are times when I have plenty of free time (for example, during semester breaks and holidays), but also times when my activity slows down (such as during exam season). Overall, I'd say I'm a fairly active and consistent writer, though!
As of the nature of TSHD and its characters, triggering themes will be present on this blog. These include mentions of death, blood, internalized homophobia, supernatural beings... Please refrain from interacting if you're sensitive to any of these topics. Please also only interact with me if we're mutuals and you're not a minor. As already mentioned, I'm 28, so it's really nothing personal against you, but merely a comfort thing. Other than that, the standard RP etiquette applies: no drama, no racism, sexism, zionism and so on. You know the drill!
All edits on my blog are self made. If I use a template for an edit, it's always linked in the source of the post!
𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆. The most important thing right away — I'm up for basically anything. Multiverses and crossovers are more than welcome — I'm also open to explore potential verses and alternate universes for Yoshiki! OCs are always loved and cherished around here!
You're also very welcome to turn any and all answered prompts into a thread!
When it comes to formatting, I don't have any real preferences. Just go for whatever feels right to you; I love my graphics fancy and pretty, but I honestly don't care whether your blog has fancy graphics or not; icons, formatting, that's all optional. It's the writing that counts!
As for text length, I really like multi-para threads — but I'm also up for shorter ones or occasionally even one-liners. You'll rarely see one-liners on my blogs, though; those usually happen on a whim and with muses mine already has an established connection with.
You don't have to match the exact length of my text, as long as the difference isn't horrendously obvious — like me writing multiple paragraphs and only getting two or three sentences in return.
I prefer continuous threads far more than interactions based solely on a plethora of inbox memes. I like to treat memes more as a means of getting a thread going rather than as the primary source of character dynamics. I find constantly starting over with something new incredibly tiring and demotivating, especially when existing interactions are rarely continued or developed further. As such, I'll likely step away from replying to inbox memes from people I've already answered several for if they never seem to go anywhere, and instead reserve them as a way to encourage actual collaborative writing and ongoing threads with people I have yet to interact with.
𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆. Yoshiki is a minor at 17 years old and will be treated as such. I do not write smut or any explicit content in general, but I am even less inclined to do so with him. If romance is written at all, it will be kept on a very innocent, crush/high-school-love kind of level. Frankly, I have little interest in romantically shipping Yoshiki in general, outside of his obvious infatuation with Hikaru/'Hikaru'.
𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓. I'm super chill when it comes to conversations, I'm up for plotting, threads, stupid nonsense, whatever you'd like. As soon as we're mutuals, you're always welcome to drop something into my inbox or hit me up with a DM!
˚₊·゜・． ⚘ @knightinsourarmor liked for a ONE-LINER STARTER !
❝ Ya really are a brat. ❞
And yet, there was nothing but utter fondness that lined Yoshiki’s softened features; his hand outstretched to rest splayed fingers atop the other’s crown of unruly white hair, giving it an affectionate ruffle.
˚₊·゜・． ⚘ @abseance liked for a ONE-LINER STARTER !
❝ Umm... ❞
Hesitation flashed across Yoshiki’s features as his hand stretched out, only to falter midway through the motion; clearly unsure whether he should truly get involved. ❝ People usually avoid this road after dark... so what’re ya doin’ out here? ❞
FROSTVINDR ... an independent & selective writing blog for FREJA SKOV, the notorious & relentless BOUNTY HUNTER of Blizzard's OVERWATCH franchise. highly encouraging of AUs, crossovers, and OCs. hunted by light, 28, she/her (CET) !
✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. ( a collection of various location prompts centered around time & weather. feel free to adjust as desired. )
[ 1AM ] the stoop of a brightly lit psychic shop, pondering haven from the rain.
[ 2AM ] the [ lobby / room ] of a run-down motel during a tumultuous storm.
[ 3AM ] a dark graveyard thick with petrichor, well beyond visiting hours.
[ 4AM ] an empty, rusty gas station nearly flooding with rainwater.
[ 5AM ] a cabin in the frozen woods, large fire raging under the hearth.
[ 6AM ] a bus stop hazily lit by the rising sun, earth smelling of petrichor.
[ 7AM ] a crowded coffee shop, patrons in a rush to escape the morning rain.
[ 8AM ] a serene camping site overlooking a valley, air humid & fresh.
[ 9AM ] a diner smelling of breakfast food as rain patters on the window.
[ 10AM ] a walled-in garden full of flowers, just as the afternoon heat sets in.
[ 11AM ] an empty public playground, equipment hot from the sun.
[ 12PM ] the middle of a sweltering outdoors shopping center.
[ 1PM ] the side of the highway after your car breaks down from the heat.
[ 2PM ] a bustling farmer's market ripe with produce, unhindered by the rain.
[ 3PM ] a city sidewalk gloomy with mist & countless puddles.
[ 4PM ] the forested perimeter of a vast lake, cold from snow melt.
[ 5PM ] a [ restaurant / diner ], interior lights flickering under a fierce storm.
[ 6PM ] a car interior, passengers stuck on a dangerously snowy & dark road.
[ 7PM ] an outdoors event as the heat backs off, full of laughter & live music.
[ 8PM ] the long queue of a club, impatient patrons stuck in the rain.
[ 9PM ] the threshold of an apartment, knocking to be let out of the hailstorm.
[ 10PM ] a windy beach past public hours, grains of sand mimicking the stars.
[ 11PM ] the backseat of a car parked in the pouring rain on a lonely road.
[ 12AM ] a pier on the cold, misty waterfront as fireworks are let off.
a 24 - hour laundromat, fluorescent lights humming above rows of idle machines.
˚₊·゜・． ⚘ IF I AM LOST, FIND ME & @becameyou
Above us no longer reigned the sweltering sun, but instead its artificial replacement; a good dozen fluorescent tubes drenched Kubitachi’s only, comparably antiquated laundromat in a wash of pale white light. I had always thought the differing effects between natural and fluorescent lighting a fascinating phenomenon, at least back when the interest in photography had still been a recurring itch at my fingertips — not too long ago, I realized with subdued resignation, would I have lingered here with quiet fascination by the shift in atmosphere the moment we had stepped through the creaking door.
Now, I hardly spared it a glance.
Too vivid, still, lingered the image of blood staining my fingers, irrationally compelling me to avoid looking at my hands despite knowing they had long since been scrubbed clean of crimson. My camera, I could hardly recall where I had last seen it — it was likely gathering dust in some forgotten corner of my room, one I had deliberately avoided ever since that night. Perhaps it would rot there forever, alongside the images captured on its film; just another ghost of the past that lingered to haunt the sleepless nights I spent pretending rest might eventually come.
I swallowed the thought despite its bitter taste as I turned toward ‘Hikaru’, only to find myself incapable of ignoring the bloodstained fabric we had brought with us. Fortunately, nobody else was around to spread whispers of this throughout the entirety of Kubitachi by tomorrow morning.
❝ ...Hope this’ll work, ❞ I murmured, almost more to myself; even my best efforts had not managed to wash the lingering stains out. ❝ Here, let’s try this one. ❞
a dry creek bed winding through brittle grass & sun-bleached stones.
˚₊·゜・． ⚘ IF I AM LOST, FIND ME & beloved @viscaera
Melancholia, already as familiar to me as the sight of my own pallor-touched hands, clouded my gaze as it traced the sun-bleached outline of each pebble exposed to the unforgiving swelter of this summer. Not so long ago, I remembered, this creek had run with the clearest of waters; it must have been a mere two summers ago that Hikaru, exuberant despite his incessant complaints about the heat, had insisted we stop here after school to cool our aching feet in its refreshing waters.
How much had changed since those days of innocence remained a gnawing ache buried within the depths of my mind. No matter how desperately I tried to smother those whispers of awareness, they only clawed their way back into my consciousness with greater cruelty. They lingered in the way I found myself reflected in the pitiful sight before me — of something alive, just barely, yet destined to wither. Truth be told, the brittle grass needling into my palms as I lowered myself onto it was less a physical inconvenience than a bitter reminder. Misshapen. Out of place. Wasn’t that what described me, too?
Before thoughts of transience could fester further within my troubled mind, my eyes tore themselves away from the hollow creek in search of my own personal sun. Once the only light that had ever managed to lend me shelter in this suffocating village, I found myself wondering where the line was drawn between something that invigorated and something that consumed.
My musing lasted only until ‘Hikaru’ flashed me the widest of grins, and I decided either would be fine with me.
𝐼𝑇 𝑊𝐴𝑆𝑁’𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑇𝑂 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐸 𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸, 𝐴𝑇 𝐿𝐸𝐴𝑆𝑇 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝐶𝑂𝑁𝐶𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌. It was a kind of strange pull that carried his feet to this city — away from the noise, the neon haze, the faceless crowds, and the cameras. But he couldn't say why. Maybe he just wanted peace and quiet, or maybe it was JJ's fault. The line between the two blurred more and more each day. Ryujin could no longer tell where he ended and JJ began.
By the time he reached Kubitachi, the air felt heavy with that strange pull again, the one that always came before something surfaced. And for once, he didn't resist. He stood at the edge of the town's road, his hoodie pulled low, the ends of his fingers twitching with a restlessness he couldn't name.
That's when he heard @majirimono voice. ❝ Hey… haven't I seen your face before? ❞
Ryujin's head slowly turned toward the voice, only to see a dark-haired boy. The expression he wore wasn't exactly human for just a moment, but then it softened just enough to seem normal. His gaze lingered on the younger man far too long without showing any emotion, as if he was looking right through him. ❝ Maybe, ❞ Ryujin finally said, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
But it wasn't his typical smile; there was something strange about it, almost unsettling. Something shimmered in his eyes that didn't seem human, but... w̸̦͖̞̔̆ͅr̷̯̙̩͈̦͌̎́o҈̰̦̲̂̀̾n̴̖̫͓͖̈͗g҈̮̳̗̈̋̚ͅ.҈͕͔͚̊̉͌̓̚. As if something else was looking right through them.
❝...But what's a place like this doing remembering faces like mine? ❞
𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, Kubitachi rarely offered strangers a welcoming hand upon their arrival. Every step they took trailed behind the pretrial whispers of the townsfolk; every intention weighed on a golden scale, treated as intrusion to the dull and repetitive rhythm of their lives.
Unaware of the terrors lurking at the edges of their simple existences, Yoshiki knew them to be nosy rather than rightfully concerned; their curiosity born not from self-preservation but the flawed human desire for something new to chatter about in a place where nothing ever happened. The unsettling signs, the shiver clawing up his spine at the terrible realization that something was horribly wrong; he had grown all too familiar with it... and now, it crept upon him again.
❛ Umm... ❜ Yoshiki’s voice faltered as gray-hued eyes darted aside, seeking refuge from the stranger’s burning stare. ❛ Pretty sure I’ve seen yer face on some kinda magazine. My sister reads a lot o’ that idol stuff. ❜
How could he even begin to explain something that eluded his own understanding entirely? Something that made his insides twist and churn and ache whenever he allowed it room in his mind — too gruesome, too unbearable for his own weary shoulders to carry. Warmth wasn’t meant to return to cheeks drained of color, nor was the boyish spark in eyes once lifeless supposed to reignite... yet, ‘Hikaru’ was there — undeniably, grotesquely so.
❛ I’ve... I’ve seen ‘im, ❜ Yoshiki mumbled — words so faint they nearly drowned beneath the familiar rush of the creek. Unaware of the terrors that plagued the boy’s mind, the water carried on in its tireless path; the world remained unmoved, even after his had already stopped on its own axis. ❛ Up on the mountain. That night... ❜
It was the first time that Yoshiki ever said it aloud — that he vocalized the horror which had haunted him every night since. Ĺ̹̹́̍̋̒ı̎̓̇̍̍̓̋f̹̗͋̏̋̓͒ë̹̀̀̓̓l̖̖̈́̒ẹ͈̜̓̈́̎ş̗̜̓̈̇ş̹̜̍̎͒̋ é̜̣́̎̀ỳ̩̹̍̕é̖̤̹̈̀́͋ş̜̤̦̦̇̈́̕.̹̣̦̗̔̀ Ụ͈̹̗̈̀͒̎̍ṅ̗́̈́̎̎n̦͒͒̈̈̍a̦̦̗̐̍̍̀̇̕t̐̀͒̓́̇̀̎ǜ̜̹̤̈̐̀r̹̦͋̍͒̐ȁ͈̒̀̋̕̕l̛̜̩̖̐̋̎̒ p̜̋͒̈̇́̕ä̹̹̦̈̋̔ḷ̛̖͒̋l̖̣̣̖̖̓̈ọ̩̈̇̐̋̍͒r̜̗̖̖̣̀̐.̩̗́̐̒̓ Ț͈͈̈́̓̈̈́h̛̜͈̐́e̜̩̎́̈ ơ̩̈̍̏́̔ṙ̖̹͈̦̐̎ạ̛̩̹͈́͒̓̓́n̤̣̏̓͒ğ̛̩̤̓̀è̀̀̍̋̒̕ ơ̗̖̈̔́͋̕f̤̗̀̀̀̏ h̛̗͈̏̋̇̀̏̕ı̗̗̹̓̒̋́ş̛̦̎̔̇́̓ b̤̹̩̓̀ẹ̈́̏́̒̍́̈́̇̕ş̩͈̹̀́̈́́́̈́̇ṭ̹̖́̎̈ f̦̣͋̔͒r̹̦̦͋̍͋ı̤̜̦̗͈̎e̛̤̣̤̓̏̏n̩̣̔̍̀́d͈̏͒́́̋̕’̖̓́͒̓̇ş̹̗̜̀̐́̋ j̜̔́̔̋̓ȧ̤̖̗̹̜̎ç̦̤̈̍̔͋̈k̦̗̦̗̔̓e̩̹̓̓̈ẗ̩̦͈́͒̓,̛̣̜̋̓́ d̈̇̇̇̇̎ı̛͈̜̖͒̋̇͒ṛ̈́̇̀̈t̜̖͋͒̋͒ı̗̗̤́́e̔̀͒͒̏̓̎d̩̹̤̦̋̎̀̍,̛̜̐̎͋ b̒̒̐͋̇̋l͈̎́̔̒ọ̦̈̐̔̓ö̗̎̐̀̎̓̎d̹̜̩̓͒́ı͈͋́̍̋̒̐̕e̗̹̦̩̒̀̀̐ḍ̈́̎̍̀̔̒,̣͈̣̗̗̇͒̕ t̖̹́͒̈̕w̤̦̋́̏̒ı̜̩̣̩̈̋̕ş̗̤̦̹̏̇̕t̓̈́́̇̕e̜̔̍̀̎d̹̹̩́̍̎.̩̜̜̈̐̔́́
When his eyes flicked up to meet Yuki’s, the gray of his eyes held a silent storm; a raging whirlwind of fear, uncertainty, and deep-rooted sorrow breaking through the ever-clouded facade of his gloom. ❛ He was cold. Unbreathing. Like stone— ❜
