[sixtymillionoverdueideas]

Hidan cracked open his eyelids, refreshingly not feeling fresh gravedirt on his face, or anywhere for that matter. It didn't smell like wood either. Sunlight. His eyes watered, but he didn't shy from the light, a grin peeling back his lips as he stretched his arms up behind his head. "Fu~u~uck," he groaned, yawning; the word was drawn out unnecessarily, raspy in the way of the newly woken. As if Hidan had simply emerged from a night of deep, restful sleep. Unlike his angel. He turned his head and saw... A head full of snow white. As unusual as Hidan's own moon-silver. He swung his legs over the bed, casually stripping the sheet he was covered with from the bed and wrapping it around himself like a robe. Improvisation came naturally to him. "Thank you, angel-san~," he teased, far less formal than most. As if they were already friends. But then again, under Jashin's purview, Hidan was close to him. To everyone. Pain was shared. Empathy was shared. They were all blood in one way or another. He took in the "angel" with eyes not fogged from delirious bloodloss. "What's your name? And is there anything you'd like me to do?" Civilians rarely saved shinobi out of the pure goodness of their hearts. Sure, good intentions, but secretly, subconsciously, they wanted something. Could be as harmless as a few tales of shinobi tricks. Could be as simple as "help me finish harvesting this field". But something. Always something. His fuchsia eyes were bright, and clear. Sharp, and the colour of gemstones from another land. Exotic things. They shifted in the light, never quite the same from moment to moment.

[nearriver]

A half-hearted chuckle, mostly from the tiredness, was his response to being called angel yet again. If that was to be what he was referred to as by this stranger, then so be it; he didn't have much argument in him for such trivial things. "Noriaki," Easy enough to respond with, he'd grown used to this false name bestowed upon him to better fit in with the environment. Yet, this world was still finding new ways to surprise him. How silly of him to not consider the possibility that someone could simply come back to life after such grievous injuries. "What is your name?" Near added as he considered the second question.

"Want you to do?" He mused aloud, almost confused about why he thought he wanted something in return for simply being a decent human and helping someone in need. "I don't expect you to do anything." A soft smile, having now moved to make fresh coffee for himself and the other, if he wanted. Perhaps he should ask if he wanted tea instead? He held both up as if silently asking which he would prefer.

"But, in the air of hypocrisy, there is something that I wish to know." Eyes akin to the color of the moon trailed the silver-haired person's body, clearly looking at the areas of prior injury. Even if he didn't give off the energy that he knew such things, his past detective life had taught many things. The angle of the worst wound's entry point was incorrect for it to have been done by another person. It was only possible for him to be the one to inflict such an injury.

"Did you harm yourself?" Near questioned, though something on his face showed he already knew the answer. He wouldn't be privy to throw accusations out on a situation he knew nothing about. Especially when the other had been confident he would awaken once more. Did that mean this was a common occurrence for him? "I'm not judging you, if you did. It was just… a shock to come across." He wasn't sure why he felt the need to add that on.

[soulprompts]

KNOCK - KNOCK PROMPTS.

listen i recently became obsessed with the amount of television shows that have a mystery person knocking on the protagonist's door as a major finale cliffhanger, and it got me thinking, and now we have this list that a few immensely talented people helped me with! that said, we know the drill by now. DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST OR CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN! IF YOU HAVE IDEAS FOR MORE PROMPTS SEND THEM TO ME AND I WILL ADD THEM!

[ KISS ]: sender shows up at the receiver's door and impulsively pulls them in for a passionate kiss that punctuates a lengthy slow-burn between the two.

[ WOUNDED ]: sender arrives at the receiver's door with considerable injuries, in dire need of help and emergency care that only the receiver is either trusted enough or convenient enough to provide.

[ TEARS ]: sender shows up at the receiver's door in tears and in need of comfort after a long day (or week, or month…)

[ DEFEATED ]: sender arrives at the receiver's door after having lost a considerably important battle (metaphorical or literal) and needing a place to recuperate from the loss.

[ FUGITIVE ]: sender, having just become a fugitive from the law, runs to the receiver's home in the hopes of finding shelter and safety with them.

[ GIFTS ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house with gifts for the homeowner themselves.

[ APOLOGY ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to apologize to them for a past wrong-doing (specify if you wish!)

[ DATE ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house to take them on a romantic date.

[ HANG OUT ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house to hang out with them for the day.

[ GO OUT ]: sender heads to the receiver's house to take them out for a day of fun/relaxation.

[ COLLECT ]: sender shows up at the receiver's house to collect something that the receiver has either purchased for them or borrowed from them.

[ DELIVER ]: sender shows up at the receiver's house to deliver something to them that either the sender borrowed or the receiver requested from them.

[ CONFRONT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to confront them about an on-going problem between the two of them.

[ FAVOR ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to ask them for a favour.

[ RECRUIT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to recruit them for an upcoming task that the sender is unable to do alone.

[ ROOMIE ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to move in with them.

[ COMFORT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to comfort them after the receiver has a difficult time or experiences a significantly difficult event.

[ HELP ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to help them with something that the receiver is either procrastinating or unable to accomplish on their own.

[ LEISURE ]: sender goes to the receiver's house for a movie night or a game night.

[ WARN ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to warn them against doing something that they suspect the receiver is preparing to do.

[ THREATEN ]: sender goes to the receiver's house in order to threaten them.

[ REUNITE ]: sender returns to the receiver's house after having been away for a while, intending to reunite with them.

[ GOODBYE ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to say a final farewell after learning they're due to leave town, possibly for good.

[ SECRET ]: sender sneaks out to the receiver's house to meet with them in secret.

[ BAD NEWS ]: sender arrives at the receiver's doorstep to deliver some bad news to them (SPECIFY THE NEWS).

[ PARTY ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house to attend a party that the receiver is hosting.

[ NEIGHBOUR ]: sender, having just moved in next door, arrives at the receiver's house to introduce themselves.

[ ENGINE ]: sender's car breaks down in the same street that the receiver lives on, leading the sender to knock on their door to ask for help.

[ PRETEND ]: sender knocks on the receiver's door to ask them to pretend to know them for the sake of a cover story.

[ VISIT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house for a casual visit.

[sixtymillionoverdueideas]

Drooped eyelids barely fluttered centimeters more open as Hidan's vision grew darker, more spotty. This floatiness was familiar, but again, he had never hallucinated before like this. And this figure, appearing with the moonlight a corona, now they were an apparition for sure. Small hands, free of callouses that even Hidan's mind could grasp between the drifting that was stealing over him, were feverishly warm against his clammy skin where they tried to wrap a mortal wound. A futile effort, but it spoke of kindness, perhaps. "Angel?" He slurred, dilated eyes not quite focusing on the ethereal white hair tickling him. A beautiful civilian, trying to tend to what he had dealt himself. His hand missed landing on the hand on him, but tried again, and again, until the palm landed heavy. A faint, trembling squeeze. "S'alright," he mumbled, eyes finally losing the battle and sliding shut fully. His breathing rasped. "Don't b'ry me, 'll be f'ne..." He just needed time. Jashin was heavy around him, like shadows, smothering but warm. Come morning he would wake as healthy as he started today. Reset, factory-new again. But he so hate having to claw his way out of a fresh grave, buried alive when he was dead before. It was a pain.

[nearriver]

Despite the grim situation, a breathy chuckle slipped past his lips at the comment. The other was talking despite the injuries, so he felt the need to respond as if this was a completely normal conversation. Surely that would help keep him more aware? "Angel? I sure hope not; I'd already be failing at it." Near vaguely thought how different it was to feel the warmth of blood on his hands as opposed to seeing it from afar or in photos. He was so focused on his futile attempts to stop more crimson from spilling that he didn't notice the hand until it landed on his own. Strong; even with the blood loss.

His gaze shifted to the other's face, an appalled expression taking over his features as the dying one seemed to be comforting him. He's fading quickly, and his last request was not to be buried? Then there was silence other than his own breaths and the various insects of the woods finally stirring back up with their noises. What the hell was he going to do? It felt wrong to leave him here, but he sure wasn't capable of dragging a corpse by himself; regardless that it would be some time before pesky rigor mortis would start to set in.

"I'll be back." He spoke to no one as he stood up to go find anyone who would help him without immediately assuming the worst of him. He wouldn't be able to blame them, however, he'd have the same thoughts if someone coated in blood wanted help with moving a body.

~ ~ ~

Near scrubbed his skin, desperately trying to cleanse it of the blood. He didn't wish to go into the trivial details anytime soon, but he would be willing to say he owed someone many favors. (Why were they so terrified when they saw the body? Sure, it was in quite the state, but it didn't feel like the typical shock one would expect…) It wasn't an easy task, especially at his insistence to put the other on the bed. At least sheets were easier to clean than the fabric of a couch. Could he have simply chosen the floor? Of course, but that didn't feel like the respectful thing to do.

And the stranger was very certain he was going to be fine.

He knew enough not to question such things, best to give the benefit of the doubt. A few days, he'd at least give that before the decomposition started to really take place.

~ ~ ~

Bloodied clothes were discarded in the corner; a pot of less than half of coffee, long gone cold, sat on the small table where a head of white was resting. The mug was precariously close to falling off the edge and shattering. A sound made him slowly raise his head, bleary eyes blinking to rest on where it had come from. "Hmm-" A tired hum of acknowledgment before his brain finally caught up and he perked up. "Sir? Are you… awake?" He had to stop himself from saying alive; even if it was technically the correct thing to say.

[nearriver]

https://uquiz.com/quiz/bB7t1W/what-does-your-love-taste-like

What does your love taste like?

vanilla

oh heart of ice and mind of gold, what am I to do with you? you are only good in small amounts, bittersweet fledgling, you are hard for most to swallow. your spirit is strong, your wit is potent, your biting essence drives even the most daring away. but why are you hiding your sweetness? I know within you, you are soft, but humanity has made you bitter. you mask your pain and sorrow with spite and sensibility. you say you do not care about trivial things, but don't you? sweetheart relax. you can let down your drawbridge, the waters are not poisoned. I know you have looked monsters in between the eyes and scoffed at them, but please, relax. you think your armor protects you but it is smothering you slowly. little owlet, when will you learn, words can only get you so far? feelings are what makes this world pulse. do not suppress your feelings. your heart can still thaw my dear. trust.

[nearriver]

Cont. from (x) @sixtymillionoverdueideas

Curiosity killed the cat...*

It was the very distant sounds of screams that drew him to venture into the darkness of the night, having jolted him from the almost sleep he had found himself drifting into. Was it wise to go out into the darkness of the night by himself? Especially when it appeared no one else had heard what he had? Perhaps not, but he wasn't able to fight the urge to investigate the sources of the sounds. This was how people died in horror films, however, it was in his nature to figure out such things. Practically embedded into the blood running through his veins.

Near followed the faint path lit up from the moon above, thinking to himself that it felt as if someone was leading him straight to the source. It seemed too coincidental that he was weaving through the vast trees and darkness so easily. If he believed in fate, he'd assume that had to be the source for everything lining up so perfectly. As if he was meant to be here at this moment; to do something not usual like venturing by himself.

A figure appeared in his line of sight and it felt as if someone knocked the air out of him, stopping in his tracks to take in the image before him. The sound of a twig snapping beneath his feet cruelly gave away his presence to the stranger. How the hell was he still alive? There was so much blood, grey eyes flickering to the other's abdominal area that he had no doubt was the source.

"Fucking hell." He breathed out as he made his way to approach the stranger. Near didn't know how he was even conscious, but it felt wrong to rush away to find help with the state of him. What if he died all alone during that time frame? He'd feel awful; even if there was nothing more he could have done.

"Who did this to you?" He studied the wound now that he could see it more clearly; only becoming more befuddled at the man still being able to walk, judging by the red trail he could see leading up to the tree. He shuffled out of the light jacket he had put on (in the event it managed to be cool), pressing it onto the wound. He really didn't think it was going to be much help, but he was going to try what he could. "Is there anywhere else bleeding?" So much blood; it was hard to tell if there could be more sources.

*... he wasn't so sure if satisfaction would bring the cat back.

[nearriver]

https://uquiz.com/quiz/YKnfg3/what-are-your-hands-covered-in-except-i-psychoanalyze-your-issues-with-love

What Are Your Hands Covered In? Except I psychoanalyze your issues with love

Stars.

They burn, don’t they? And yet you still hold on. The flesh on your palms peels back, your fingers burning down to bone. Your tissues char and break away, your blood boiling inside your hands. The heat rushes up to kiss your face and chest, a sunburn in the dark and yet–yet you hold on, because they are beautiful. It hurts, but you see only the beauty of the moment, none of the pain. All of that suffering is worth a few moments of brilliance, isn’t it?

[lmbibitor]

“can mutuals dm you?” my mutuals can fire me from a cannon through a brick wall, looney tunes style. as long as we’re all having fun

[nearriver]

Celestial Glass Globe created by Swedish Sculptor Edward Hald, circa 1929.

A gift offered by a ghost of a presence wrapped in neat white paper, unseen eyes slightly crinkled from a gentle smile. Someone clearly regarded him fondly to gift him such an exquisite piece.

One moment, nothing was there beside him. The next, a sizable wrapped up piece was next to him. Who on Earth could have slipped on by without him noticing? No matter, if they chose to remain anonymous, then that was quite alright. He'd more than likely try to figure out on his own who went out of their way to not make their presence known.

As he carefully unwrapped the paper, he very quickly realized what may have kept them quiet. His eyes lit up at the piece, bringing his hands away as he would hate to add more fingerprints to such an exquisite piece of art. Was this the real one? Surely not, but he also had never heard of replicas of such a thing either. It would explain the anonymous nature of the gift. He'd have to look into it if anything had been stolen recently from the museum.

But do not get him wrong, as cruel as it may sound to art lovers like himself, he would not be returning this piece if it turned out stolen. This was a gift for him; it wasn't his fault they hadn't provided a receipt to take it back. A cheeky smile crossed his features at the thought. Who around here would know? He'd be keeping this one away from prying eyes; a place that only he would be able to view and the rare few who have the opportunity to enter.

Grey eyes studied it further, carefully examining the different symbols of the zodiac within. Such an exquisite form of art; it was nice to know that this had brought the art of glass engraving back to life. He'd have to make sure to find a good display case to keep it safe from dust or somehow being accidentally broken.

A shame he wasn't able to directly give his gratitude to the gifter, but he did leave a little note in hopes it would find its way to them.

Thank you for the wonderful gift. I will cherish it for the rest of my days.

N.

[nearriver]

A quiet melody, two short notes then one longer, lilting up, then soft taps against rain-cold glass. A blackbird is perched on the ledge of a window, inquisitive and out of place. What brought it here? ...And why does it have something glimmering under its claws?

The light tapping did quickly garner his attention away from the papers he was mindlessly staring at, having vaguely heard the soft melody but had initially presumed it had come from elsewhere. He wasn't able to make the connection of what the tune and the bird had in common; although he'd have to look into that as it could hold some clues. The window had been cracked, just enough to let some air in but keeping the floors from becoming drenched by the rain that had come through.

He slowly lifted it all the way, doing his best not to spook his curious little visitor. What does it have? His eyes went between the faint shine and the bird. Of course, he wasn't about to reach and take the mystery object away without knowing the intentions. Had someone sent this bird here, almost as if a spin on a carrier pigeon? Or was it merely taking a rest on the ledge?

He raised a finger as if to tell the bird 'one moment', uncaring if that made him seem as though he had finally gone completely mad. Birds were quite intelligent creatures, he wouldn't be surprised if it understood.

He returned with some cut-up berries and sunflower seeds, placing them on the window with a smile. An offering for a potential offering; or it could simply be a mere snack if the bird saw fit.

[nearriver]

Go on, play a tune...

Oh? He studied the vintage nature of this piano curiously, as if pondering what could be played on it. He even tapped a key to test the tuning on it, visibly satisfied that it wasn't terribly out of tune. Significantly fewer keys than a traditional piano, but Near could tell this was clearly intended for children that had only started to learn the instrument. More toy than instrument, in his opinion. No matter, he would still oblige with the request with a simple tune.

His fingers moved freely to begin playing the melody, smiling gently as if pleased with his choice. Or perhaps it was more of amusement? It could be difficult to tell when it came to his expressions, at times, unless one truly knew him well.

🎶 Mary had a little lamb...🎶

It certainly wasn't his first choice to play, but he was making due with the limited amount of keys he had. Maybe he needed to bring out a traditional one to play some of the better songs that he had in mind. For now, classic childhood melodies would have to do. As the first one ended, he started up with a second as he allowed himself to get lost in the sounds.

🎶Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques...🎶

[rpmemepalkia]

Please reblog this if your blog is crossover friendly

aka you are happy to write with muses who aren't in your same fandom (fandomless muses of similar genre for instance)

+ specify in tags what kind of crossovers you're open to

[vintage-tigre]

[d3monicas]

DEATH NOTE ⚔

[nearriver]

https://uquiz.com/quiz/X0vySp/what-type-of-lonely-are-you

What type of lonely are you?

loneliness of the mask

you're a good actor, a good liar. your masks are intricate and hand-carved. for your lover, you wear a mask of softness, quiet words uttered in the night. your friends, a boisterous laugh, always a joke at the ready. your professionalism at work and school is steady, allowing the occasional lapse to make a small joke. you have to keep them interested, after all. you have to please them. you are manipulation itself, your head is so full of your intricate webs there is nothing left. you might be the loneliest of them all, seeing as there's no one left behind your facade. you lost your real face long ago.

hey so he didn't like this!

[nearriver]

https://uquiz.com/quiz/UaCiWz/what-flower-color-defines-your-soul

What flower color defines your soul?

White Flowers

“Traditionally used in bridal bouquets or during memorial services, white flowers range in meaning from purity and innocence to sympathy.”

he will never escape the white aesthetics; it will always find him in some capacity across universes

[utopians]

haters see me and say christ what is that

[tnridndisnsiswjsjdndznz-deactiv]

Death note au where L’s ghost haunts these two and wrangles them until they work together