[mamorigami]

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a private + selective multimuse writing blog for animanga characters. extremely plot driven. personal headcanons present.

¹ carrd. ² sideblog.

[nocentis]

can our characters make out

[mamorigami]

i think its so inevitable for the team to take up a 100 yr quest at SOME point in time so i might keep the idea that they're doing it, but i won't involve the story & plotlines in the current series. do u get me.

[nocentis]

" i understand more than you think . " / from juvia >:)

✧ ┆Not Accepting

"I don’t doubt that you do."

The trouble never lied in whether or not she was familiar with the plague. It lied in whether or not he was ready — no, that wasn’t it either because he was never and would never be ready. It lied in whether or not he was willing to share.

"I won't pretend I haven’t heard a bit of your story.”

The only thing that guildsfolk liked more than drink was gossip; a quick-spreading and boisterous blight that often changed shape to fit whichever mouth would host it.

“I won't pretend to know the whole of it either, but something tells me that we have more in common than either of us know."

[mamorigami]

“ i guess that’s only natural, it was certainly an odd turn of events… ”

in hindsight, she shouldn’t be as surprised as she is—that he’s heard of her story. it’s odd to think of it as such: a story. when it’s always been a past self she’s left due to pure chance. a person she never imagined as separate from herself before is now little more than a figment of her past that’s slipped by so seamlessly, a cloud that’s passed through her leaving only the barest residue of mist. she’s nearly forgotten how she got here, even if the weight of gratitude never ceased. her opponent had a bleeding heart she’d shun at any other moment of that day, a plea she would've remarked as futile and boring and yet it was the very catalyst of, what she hoped, to be the rest of her life. yes, it was a very silly, very unusual story—she’s honestly a bit embarrassed at being so presumptuous.

“ i don’t know your whole story either, not really. but i know enough to say those words confidently. i understand what it’s like to be here, ” her gaze shifts from his face once more, out of tenacity towards the crowd ahead them rather than the flutter of before, “ standing with them now. ”

[mamorigami]

touches the glass window..... when will i get the vampire au i deserve

[mamorigami]

⭐️

⭐️ my roleplay pet peeves

i actually have no idea besides the general untrimming of posts or combining graphics within your writing (not icons, duh). i've had severe issues with my eyesight lately so now i'm even more "critical" of how people format so when itty bitty text is involved in several other images clashed together it throws me off. doesn't help that i reread threads like several times per response and it would just slow that process down. i'm a big hater tho, swear.

🎾 what type of genre of roleplay i prefer to write

i don't know if this is asking general genre like fantasy, which if you take a look at any of my lists is my most popular genre to snatch characters from. or, it's asking me if i prefer writing angst and emotionally heavy conversations which... i do.

🔑 my favorite type of threads

it's the most obvious answer but i LOVE communicating during a thread, i can never get enough of talking with people ooc and just throwing out potential ideas the thread could take, a spin-off of what would've happened if person a did something else & we have our own little stories in our dms !!! it makes me feel soo much more comfortable and confident in replying and doing my 100% in this limbo of sort-of-plotted-but-also-kind-of-winging-it threads. in another sense i love argumentative threads. who would've guessed!

[mamorigami]

❤️

❤️ my first roleplay memory

it was in a chatroom on a site that i think is shut down now?? But the plot was so detailed for an AU, i dont really know how to describe outside of very hacker-esque, there were great city divides in terms of power and financial status.. either way it was a ho.mestuck thing and i just vividly remember writing ara.dia meg.ido with way more characters than she's actually interacted with in canon?? it's the first time i realized i knew more than the creators bc she could've thrived more than she did. i love u miss me.gido.. i'm pretty sure it was still in that script style, but that's the first time i connected w/ people online and made a story with a handful of people together i think about them all the time it was so good to give all these side characters their Moments.

[nocentis]

He leans into her touch. Soft despite the well-earned callouses. Soft despite his raw new flesh.

Who is he to deny the grace she extends him? To deny the tenderness that goes against everything that she knows to be? In the same way that he weaves together fragmented sentiments, plucks them from his gut like shards of glass, names them, and forces them back through his teeth, bleeding throat and all, she dulls her blade enough that a light dusting won't render him ribbons.

He shouldn't have said it. It wasn't fair to make her worry — to wrap his hands around her good nature and ring it out of her like something he had any right to drink of; to cleanse himself with. It felt selfish. It was selfish. And now here he sat, basking in it, the very picture of parasitic.

No. He's doing it again. Painting her the victim, pinning her stagnant when she was anything but. That wasn't fair. Lying by omission wasn't fair. Gritting his teeth, shying from the sharp words like her heart was fragile as his own wasn't fair. Frankly, it was insulting. She would recognize his hesitance should he try backpedaling now, anyway. If she took that for rejection after extending herself bare, could he live with that, knowing it was yet another form of betrayal? No.

"I was fortunate that way," he admitted, "Ultear, and even Meredy, they understood. We mourned together."

"When I saw you again..." he can feel his throat closing around his confession, but he forces the rust from his voice and carries on. "I thought, first, that I'd imagined you — that I wanted you to be, and so you were."

He allows himself a hint of humor, a half-laugh so faint a swell in the breeze could steal it away. His heart slams its fists against his lungs, its war-drum rhythm so out of place in this calm, quiet bedside. One last breath of this familiar unspoken before the plunge.

"When I heard of your return, I thought ceaselessly of what I should say to you. There was so much that I owed you in that moment. But when I saw you again, you were so pristine, like you walked straight out of my memory. Everything that I wanted to express seemed so... asinine. No amount of words — no matter how sweet, how profound, how poignant or poetic — no amount of groveling could equal the debt I owed then, and owe now, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't have tried. You deserved to hear me try," there is no sense in stopping now that he's started. Anxiety has become adrenaline, and though his voice is beginning to break, he continues, "I failed you. I pushed you away. I lied to you. I lied about having a fiancée, of all things... Absurd, wasn't it? And so very stupid."

"I'm sorry. For all of it. But most of all for treating you like a flower and a fool."

[mamorigami]

the weight of his tenderness is comforting in her palm, neither of them shying away from the grand gestures their small touches are. they unwrap this wound together, still pulsing and weeping, if only slightly. it’s ghastly, a part of themselves they recognize but still keep to the shadows—to be brought to the light is almost a greater task than having them anatomize it. their fingers sink into the soft tissue of the years before, this time to heal rather than simply remember. her hand stays put on his head, unsure of when to let go, when to hold tighter—when to bite, when to touch. she finds a small comfort in the mindless small repetition of her thumb, only separated by skin and bone from witnessing the flashes of memories and train of thoughts within his mind. 

her eyes never leave his face, almost reveling in the suffocation of anticipation, the tense moment just before a geyser erupts. when he speaks it's a cork pop, as if they’ve finally come up for air only to be met with the biting breeze of the chilled air, but he persist nonetheless. erza, in her own way, persists as she takes his words as he lays himself bare, almost entirely too still when compared to her usual fiery. 

he confesses to thoughts she’d been too blinded by rage to consider, too desperate to cling onto a memory so far in her mind's eye. fingers glide downward, matching in length with his flesh sigil, a whisper of a touch before she pulls back completely. despite it being healed in front of her she vividly recalls it at its youngest, raw and irritated on much more delicate skin. a boy forever marked. he had once held a noose to that boy's neck, despite sharing the same name, and it had scared her—like a beast she flexed her quills, acting on instinct to the prospect of death.

he then confesses to something she's already known, pulls back the curtain on a lie so blatant it felt unfair to have it sit in silence and so she speaks before much thought, “ you’ve never failed me, jellal. you being here now proves that. you were scared, and… ” she hesitates, her throat squeezing around her heart so tight she’s forced to break her gaze. she pulls her own curtain back, heavy in steel. “ and so was i. ”

“ it was just as unfair to expect you to move past everything, to remain that same boy from before—i wasn't the same… or, maybe i was and that’s what upset me the most. ” that little girl is forever buried inside, different parts of her deeper than others and when she finally found a chain linked to hers the cuffs were found empty at the other side. jellal had been the stronger of the two that day, regardless what her words may have conveyed. “ whether or not you lied to me didn’t matter, as long as you could. ”

[mamorigami]

here to once again complain about ft and just the. existence of irene & being the mother of erza, which subsequently didn't matter at all after that arc ended. im scratching my head still at the prospect of giving erza an on-page mother, especially so late in the story with no build up outside the arc. idk if im making this up but i remember reading that it wasn't intentional at first, but irene ended up looking so much like erza that it was implemented in the story. i think thats dumb and stupid and boring and dumb!! fair warning that i barely acknowledge irene and erza's familial relation, any development is going be heavily canon-divergent & full of my own tweaks in regards to irene and her story..

[mamorigami]

mommy origami do you think I’m pretty? Be honest.

well......... looks aren't everything all the time <3 ! just be yourself

[mamorigami]

@nocentis: i've already mourned you.

it’s a lingering moment of discomfort, prompting her body to shift in itself while it rests on a makeshift cot. its attempt at masking the natural edges of the earth beneath is futile: it pierces. a little like erza. seven years absent from her life, it was hard to grasp then and it’s not any easier now. she thinks back to when she found him before, his fragmentary self distorting every one of his senses. the next she sees him he is weighed down by the entirety of himself. time had passed, an undeniable fact, yet she still hears little of what had occurred beside the initial reunion.

“ i never meant… ” words have never felt more meaningless. despite everything she could say she was still dead to him for a near decade. a piece of himself he has allowed to see the light and she can’t find the words... his name is quiet as it leaves her mouth, pleading for patience as ego sheds.

must this be their fate? to be plucked from the living only to trip and fall through once returned. for him it was inevitable—what is her excuse? she does not wish to have left tenrō island any sooner. she cannot promise him he won’t have to mourn her again. she nearly stops herself midway, doubt sticking to her skin as intimacy creeps into the air like smoke but—

“ back then... ”

she reaches for him at dusk; the crown of his head safe in her palm. fingers lay atop thick azure, haphazardly discarding the front strands as her thumb moves to the skin above his brow, barely a presence. she finds her voice there, reminded of the small solace that persists despite her inner dissonance.

“ i was just glad you weren’t alone. ”

[notmorbid]

the rock eaters.

dialogue prompts from the rock eaters: stories by brenda peynado.

'betting on failure', i call it.

if you had known, what would you have done?

the angels always said things wouldn't end well.

give 'em hell.

stay good, kiddo.

i promised you i would never leave you alone.

i'd commit a crime just so they'd put me in jail with you.

what? i'm not even allowed to react?

you think you can tell me what to do?

aren't you a miracle?

why is everything a game with you?

this is not a game. this is real.

how do we ever know it's true, what we believe?

there's always second place.

i wanted you to see me.

what was it all for?

you should have forgotten me.

why can't you let go?

i'm afraid, too.

you're more like my ____ than my ____.

what is it you see in ____?

i'll never ask you for anything else.

i'm ready for you to return to being you, whenever you are.

it seems like everything i say is wrong.

you always were breaking everything you touched.

i wouldn't have recognized you.

could we be tender again?

remember, but remember how.

i wanted to live so badly.

if you inherit the earth, what will you do with it?

there's never any excuse for violence.

how easy it is to forget what's been done to us.

no one will come looking for me.

i would never ask you to risk yourself.

don't you want more from life?

you look like a saint in full martyrdom.

i would give anything for us to have been friends.

we don't get to choose the ones we love.

there will be no happy ending for us.

you don't need me. you are so strong.

sleep is weakness, and weakness is sin.

when things get hard, you face them. you don't run away.

i've already mourned you.

it's like we're kids again.

i think death will be like dreaming. like being pulled apart and into a new form.

don't defend me. love me.

what time are you coming to see me off?

it's almost like you're really here.

i'd know your voice anywhere.

i feel like i'm falling down a rabbit hole.

how long can we hold on to things that change?

no one wants to hear about our anger.

if i tell you how i am, i'm going to cry.

you have an attitude problem.

there's no such thing as who you are. only what you do, over and over.

love is a verb.

i'm so glad you're here, but why are you here?

i can't talk about it, or i won't get through today.

what is your most secret dream?

we're not monsters. we're heroes.

[mamorigami]

i log in. i spam daynes inbox. i log out.

[nocentis]

╳┆your love is bittersweet, lemon tart, sugar-rot in the pulp of your teeth and powdered-icing acid reflux; sown into your flesh like shrapnel, too close to your heart, too fine to remove.

[mamorigami]

a little bit of a blog change cause i plan to be here routinely now mayhaps

[mamorigami]

@fightever: the universe is trying to fuck with me, and i refuse to engage.

truthfully she lends him an ear, even if she’s preoccupied on scratching the remaining nail polish off her toes, but when it turns out to be more vague nonsense she can’t help but let him soak in those words. her chin sits on the knee propped up on the couch, flakes of orange falling where they may. next is an obnoxious red, and it’s chipped so much it only takes one lucky move to erase it completely. that's when she finally gives her piece, “ just you wait then, it’s going to catch up and screw you twice over. ” that’d be a laugh. she can't seem to get rid of the stubborn dark blue on her toe, peeling off only in tiny bits and making a much messier visual than the rest. her left hand idly brushes the dried polish off her foot and onto the floor as she meets his expression only to wear a smug mask.  “ make sure your pockets get heavy before then—eight percent'll get tossed to me when you need a bail. ”

[nocentis]

╳┆@mamorigami liked for a starter!

╳┆He disembarked from his train with every intention of heading straight home. But that was before something scarlet snagged his periphery.

The doors to an outgoing train snapped shut behind him, and the realization of what he'd just done began to set in. Swiftly behind that came the embarrassment. He hadn't even bothered to check where the transport was headed before he boarded, and now he was stuck until at least the next stop, whenever that was. Nothing to do now other than admit his mistake.

It didn't take him long to find her. She was sitting alone, staring out one of the windows at the steadily rolling scenery.

"Pardon me. Is that seat taken?"

[mamorigami]

the lack of jovial conversation is ironically loud to her, not that she necessarily minds the calm of a sparsely occupied train car, but she does recognize it. the members of her guild she usually accompanies herself with are absent, but just as before it's not something she knowingly dwells on, it's just how it is. she doesn't mind.

there's a shadow she feels before it eventually speaks, and just as it does is the familiar blanket of solitude ripped off of her to welcome an unexpected, warmer presence. she sizes him up from head to toe, as is her nature to determine the reasonings behind those that stand before her. “ what are you—what brings you here? ” even still she seems to find the most motive to stare at his stiff expression, the color of his eyes that she's fought to keep in her memory. it's enough to stall her, leaving him standing in the aisle before she visibly clicks into another train of thought as the turbulence jostles her luggage. she reaches across to steady it, effectively squishing it to one side as if to allow him to choose beside or across from her. she doesn't mind which. really. “ no, it's not taken.. of course not. ”