no one has imagined us

THESE MEMORIES ARE NOTHING TO ME, JUST SALT IN THE WOUND.

[pxsserine]

oh what am i waiting for? a spell to be cast or for it be be broken? at the very last some wild ghost from my past come to split me wide open?

01.DOSSIER — 02.SKELETON — 03.TASKS — 04.STARTERS

quote from "white out" by aurora engle-pratt + art from speculations by sarah meyohas

FACECLAIM — manny jacinto. CHARACTER NAME — dr. jomari aquino. not that he knows the dr part of things. NICKNAME(S) — please just call him jo. he'll also accept robin, but he might take a second to parse it. GENDER/PRONOUNS — cis man, he/him. SEXUALITY — gay. very much so. HEIGHT — 5' 10".

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES — sharp jawline, hair that always seems to be getting in his eyes despite his best efforts, long limbs, a general sense of poise no matter the situation, which is contrasted with the way he seems to need to fidget with something no matter what. also, the way that he genuinely seems to look put together all the time— if you see him ruffled, that's a sign of him trusting you. but even with that, he can't quite escape a vague air of melancholy.

(finally— he has a crescent moon tattoo on his left ribcage, but no one has probably seen that.)

APPEARS (THE AGE AT TIME OF DEATH) — thirty-five. BIRTHDAY — may 10th. PLACE OF BIRTH — jersey city, new jersey. NATIONALITY — american.

FAMILY INFORMATION — his mother was a nurse and his father was a baker. his mother's side of the family was slightly affluent in the philippines, but it didn't factor much into his day to day life. he also had an older sister, mayumi, who half raised him and half was his closest friend for most of his life.

CAUSE OF DEATH — tripped and hit his head while confronting his partner/being told uncomfortable truths about himself.

TRAITS — + cautious, gentle, intelligent. - codependent, obstinate, withdrawn.

LIKES — mid-century modern furniture, 80s ballads, the smell of bread baking, a gentle quiet, wandering through near vane, freshly ironed clothing, artful clutter, sweater vests, dark chocolate, not having people pry into his business.

DISLIKES — the way that memory hangs like a knife over him, stains, when people bluster their way through things, emotional intimacy, the general existence of his bardo, again REALLY hates it when people are wrong but act like they aren't, dishonesty, when something is done wrong when it could have easily been done right, also... genuine mess.

HOBBIES — baking anything and everything, interior decorating (he tends to pretend to go antiquing in near vane), catching up on all of the media that he's forgotten (film, theater, books, music, you name it— the one thing he hasn't quite gotten a handle on his video games), does doing his job count as a hobby? because it genuinely is one for him.

HABITS — drumming his fingers in pattern he can't quite place, idly fixing wrinkles in his clothes and other people's, twisting at his watch (does it work? no. does he still wear one? yes! it feels comfortable for some reason), and he has a tendency to bring his hands or fiddle at the back of his neck when he's nervous.

EXTRAS —

playlist.

pinterest.

CHARACTER TROPES + INSPIRATIONS — ianto jones (torchwood) // a long standing question of the line between kindness and goodness // clear eyed logic // myfanwy thomas (the rook) — "dear you, this body that you're wearing used to be mine" // helen's eidolon // alphonse elric (fma) // the typhoon album "offerings"

MEMES —

MORAL ALIGNMENT — lawful neutral. ZODIAC/NATAL CHART — taurus sun, gemini moon, libra rising. MBTI — INFJ-T. ENNEAGRAM — 5w6.

[radianxce]

oh , robin . sweet , sweet robin . she's never considered him an enemy ; not in the way she thinks of osprey and the others , with all her barbed disdain and carefully sharpened words . she may not be a talented reaper — not like some of the others , but what she does know is people , and so she catalogues jo's presence like committing it to memory might tip the balance in her favor . she sees the discomfort in his wings , the way he mirrors her , even the careful politeness with which he wrapped that insult . her icy demeanor does not melt , nor does her posture ; instead , she lets the silence linger for a beat too long . she can come out bared teeth , but that has never been a habit for her , so instead she hides her ire behind cold eyes and a frigid smile . " maybe . " the laugh that tumbles from her lips is soft and rich , swathing the reply in velvet ribbon . it's almost , almost enough to dull the sharp gleam of her bitter smile . there's something unnerving about it , like the way her lips tug upwards is more threat than compliment . " but we cannot all be fools , can we , jo ? one of us has to be the winner . " her head tilts ever - so - slightly to the left , gesturing to the chair at her side . " care to wait with me ? or are you only allowed to sit when kestrel allows you to ? "

[pxsserine]

he half hums in agreement at her statement -- one of them would have to win, in the end. there was no way through this endeavor without it, no way that the spin of the world after could manage in this state. "and do you fancy that you'll be the one to wear that crown?" a half beat, and then he answers his own question: "i supposed we all must fancy that, if we've committed to this." it feels like half of a confession, an unwieldy fact that he ought not to tell her, but that could be guessed all the same.

it's strange for him to see that he can't quite guess what she wants -- what she could possibly have to gain at the end of this game. but at the moment, he reckons that he might as well learn a little more, get a hair closer to an answer.

with that, he answers her final question, folding himself into the chair next to her as he does -- "is this a request or an invitation?" and then, a quiet frown follows "do you really believe me to be so cleanly at his beck and call?"

(the thought worms through him, deep and quiet, rummaging through the whole of his insides.)

[kestrell]

Romeo glances at the file over Jo's shoulder, taking a moment to recall the details of the retrieval. Jo wouldn't hesitate, but that didn't matter. Romeo enjoyed a challenging reaping, couldn't quite pass on the opportunity to show off a little. "That's fine. Maybe a hand on the back of his neck, when I cut. Seems like he'll be thinking of his lover." Absentmindedly, he simulates the touch on his own nape, as if testing out the weight.

"Please," Romeo scoffs, and it's something of a relief to know that the person he's talking to isn't likely to shrink away from the acerbic sound of it. "If I came to your Residence For The Bardo-challenged, that would be imposing. If you came to mine, and you walked in and saw a 20-foot tall marble statue of a bunch of geriatric clowns having an orgy, you wouldn't ask me a single question about it." Romeo spins on his heel, walking backwards along the empty street, and it comes just as easy as running his mouth. "You'd pause, blink twice, then be like, shoes on or off?"

[pxsserine]

he almost, almost smiles at that. there's a faint uptick of his lips, his eyebrows raising a hair higher than normal. yes, he would probably ask something of the sort, but -- "i would hope that i'd know the answer to that by now. i have been there enough times at this point." it's-- almost comforting, to have a routine like that, to have something that feels like he belongs. part of him wonders if he had something like that before, but he nudges the thought away to linger in the present moment.

"and thank you for taking that one-- i don't know why it worries me, but it does." jo follows this with a faint shrug. in most situations, he wouldn't want to admit unease, uncertainty, the whole mess emotions that show him as caught off guard and askew, but with rome-- it's integral. they're supposed to function as a team, a unit. if he doesn't tell them, then it would be bad news for both of them. he refuses to pause on the ties that come with that.

[pxsserine]

🌧️ "When outside during the rain, do you use a raincoat, an umbrella, or something else? Do you enjoy rain?"

there's almost a smile that flits across his face at the question. "i prefer when it rains. sunshine is good but... there's something beautiful about the world when it rains, wouldn't you agree?" jo reaches out a hand, almost in absent thought, as if he's waiting to feel raindrops that won't ever come. "and i'll always prefer umbrellas. they're a bit more elegant. i don't really like the way that raincoats hang on me." he's not lying. raincoats feel too hot on him, a bit pointless and strange. (and here's a fact he won't tell: when reaping, he often lingers for a moment or two longer than he ought to when it rains, letting the flecks of water fall on him before he returns to the after.)

[pxsserine]

🔮 CRYSTAL BALL — what is a core memory from your childhood that you think defines you today?

he blinks, hand shifting to the back of his neck. a ghost of a frown slips around the edges of his mouth, uncertainty flitting across him. "is that-- is this a joke?" a single finger taps against the side of his head. "i don't have any of that-- i can't really gauge if any of that made me... the me i am now." a tiny shrug follows. "but if you're asking about me waking up here, then i suppose seeing my door, and seeing how it didn't feel right. i've been trusting that feeling ever since."

[radianxce]

𝐖𝐇𝐎? open , capping at 0/3 . 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄? collections office . 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓? prologue : quoth the raven .

she is not a woman accustomed to waiting , and if her patience isn't already running thin , the faint hum of conversation and the bright fluorescent lights in the large office are enough to drive anyone mad . she sits stiffly — posture perfect — on a cracked leather chair that squeaks every time she so much as shifts her weight . the antique tones of the collections office — the grays and beiges in marble are simply abhorrent , as is the particular wood they've used everywhere — make her eager to retreat to her bardo as soon as this is done . her lips curl into an irritated sneer , as if the indignity of waiting is enough to disgust her . the echo of footsteps catches her attention , cutting through the cacophony of the typewriters clicking , and when her eyes flick toward the source , a familiar figure steps into the room . recognition flashes sharp and immediate — she knows this grymm , knows their feathers , knows their name , knows why they're here . sunisa automatically adjusts — back impossibly straighter , chin tilted up , sneer dropping to a neutral expression . " fancy seeing you here , " she croons , voice a smooth , practiced melody with just enough coolness to border on condescension . she nods to the shimmering black paper in her lap , psyche's photo resting atop it . " so . . . decided to join the circus ? "

[pxsserine]

here's the thing: jo's not trying to be coy about this whole thing. he's not trying to be some thief in the night, surreptitious and strange. but he's also not in the mood to be more obvious about his pursuit of the hunt. he'd prefer for it to linger like an undercurrent, something known but not relevant. still, moments like this give him no choice, no ability to shift jump away. sunisa is-- perhaps not his favorite of his colleagues, but certainly not the worst to weather. part of him considers her like this: if the surety of her ego didn't set him on edge, he would almost admire it. still, that doesn't mean that he melts under her gaze. instead, his hands fold in front of him, his own face falling into a neutral state that mirrored hers. "i suppose so." a faint flick of his wings follows this, tan and white shifting in discomfort. "but i don't know if i'd agree that circus is the right word for it. that would make both of us fools, wouldn't it?" the question lingers, almost unspoken: and you would never call yourself a fool, right?

[kestrell]

where: near vane when: before kestrel was assigned to reap psyche status: closed, @pxsserine building collapse, gdynia, multiple fatalities. collection was likely to be taxing as it would require lingering in the living world, reaping each soul or batch of souls as the disaster unfolded over a matter of hours. with regards to jobs like this one, romeo made his preferences clear — if multiple reapers were recommended, he needed only jo, and if jo was not available, he preferred to work alone. "the timing will be tricky. nothing we haven't worked around before, but if there's anyone you want to punt to me, speak now or forever hold your peace." he hands the briefing over as they walk, a seamless, familiar delivery. the fog is thin and light on this street, almost like morning mist. "we'll make quota, after, which is fucking tedious and annoying." romeo despised the brief bursts of aimless time between rotations, even if he could feel his own mental and existential need for it. "you can wait it out at mine, if you like."

[pxsserine]

jo takes the briefing with a quiet, practiced fluidity, flicking through the list with a frown. "could you--" he points to a single name on the list. "i worry i might hesitate on this one." he wouldn't. he knows that. rome probably would know that too-- but he'd always prefer to be safe than sorry, take his time with the ones that didn't leave him with a single ounce of hesitation. at the offer, his head lifts upwards, the expression on his face not shifting, but his wings twitching in a single, uncertain motion. "are you sure? i wouldn't want to impose." and part of it's true. he has his own place, an apartment conjured up by the strangeness of near vane. a place that he tends to like he imagined the person he had once been might have tended to his house. but not his personal bardo-- never that. but the other half is: the offer feels too close to some kind of soft underbelly, like the gentle brush of white down. and really, he didn't know what to do with that-- it felt like not knowing where to put his hands, not knowing how to navigate a space that reflected the other grymm's heart. but he did have to agree. waiting was more tedium than it was almost ever worth.

[violentlydefending]

[lakevida]

starts talking about my emotional state with 2 degrees of abstraction instead of 7 and the sniper across the street who i pay to keep me in line fires a warning shot thru my little hoop earring

[115x8]

wait can someone explain what this means to me I really want to know

[lakevida]

if i am candid about how i feel i will die like john f kennedy

[lakevida]

man with excellent self restraint dismayed to realize that not wanting anything is more likely a depression symptom than a carefully honed skill that atones for other aspects of his character

[pxsserine]

— TASK 001

all that being and nothingness, on the same möbius strip

basics.

SIGNATURE DOOR — jo's door is perhaps closer to a window than a door-- a clear pane of glass with a freshly painted white frame, that opens to the side with a cranking knob. it sits snugly in the air, about six inches above the ground, necessitating a raised leg to go over the threshold. the door itself is about six feet tall, with a a single white beam running horizontally across it, dividing the pane into two. on either side of the door are cream colored curtains, always seeming to flutter in non-existent wind, and always seeming to be dappled with sun in the way that it sits in the last golden hour or two of light.

jo isn't sure if the door comes from memory or from himself, and part of him is too scared to really ask. if we're being honest, it mostly stems from his essence, though certain elements of it draw on core elements of his childhood. that being said, there is no matching, perfectly identical door out there for him to find (even if part of him always, unconsciously, is keeping an eye out for one).

SOUL SEVER — those classic sewing scissors, the ones shaped like a bird. jo's pair is slightly larger than average, closer to the size of a standard pair of paper cutting scissors. his are gold, seeming to show marks of age and use, with a few scratches and dull spots. his normally hangs from his belt, on a chatelaine-esque chain, along with a mundane pen and a small brass stopwatch.

he doesn't know where it comes from, and tries not to hypothesize too much on the issue.

DESIRED EMOJI — 🍵or 🧠

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S WINGS LOOK LIKE? — jo wears the wings of a european robin. they're not very large -- if we're being honest, they seem slightly small against his (fairly) lanky form. the outside of the wings are a soft grey-ish tan, in a fairly muted tone. on the underside, they're a downy white, flecked with the occasional black feather. his wings tend to express his feelings when his face doesn't -- he's not as good at schooling them as he is at schooling his face, and they'll flick slightly when he's irked.

WHAT SHAPE DOES THEIR BARDO USUALLY TAKE? — great question! we simply don't know, considering that jo has never actually entered his.

if i had to say, if he had ever entered, the base shape it would take would be an old boston apartment, one that's a bit small and cramped, filled with odd little nooks and a lot of light and air, the smell of the harbor wafting in, coupled with a late autumn chill. it wouldn't be the space he died in, but a space that's almost adjacent, stripped bare of any remnants of the person that broke his heart. it would be a place designed for the quiet of being alone in a bustling city, if that makes sense.

WHAT ARE THEY LIKE AT THE DEPARTMENT OF AFTERLIFE AFFAIRS? — quiet! not here to cause a fuss! just wants to do his job and get it done with! is probably working more often than he isn't working, so there's that sense of him always being busy. i think i mentioned this in the server, but i really imagine him as that co-worker who you tell a bunch of your problems to, and then a little while after, you realize that you don't know anything about them. in that regard, it's also easy for him to fade into the background since more often than not he's hanging around romeo, so he can just let romeo take the spotlight. anyway! quiet! good-meaning! often has an open ear, and if he's judging you (which he may often be!) it's hard to pick up on unless you know him.

WHAT IS THEIR OPINION ON 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎? — is sort of two minds. on one hand, jo likes structure and procedure. he likes when things make sense. and 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 provides that in spades!! he likes the clarity and certainty that they offer. but at the same time, part of him wonders why, with all the power they have, does he not have his memories? why would an ultimately caring entity leave him in such a space of ambiguity and stress? it's a tension that often plagues him.

optional.

HOW DO THEY LOOK LIKE/DRESS LIKE IN THE AFTER? — well he isn't sure! in the after, jo opts for light, neutral colors and items with a slight drape to them. think tan sweater vests over white shirts, soft brown sweaters, wide legged linen slacks, etc. it's all stuff that's meant to look put together, while also allowing for ease and comfort.

(also, he is almost always wearing a watch, even if it doesn't quite work anymore.)

(also also, in life, he tended to opt for darker colors and a slightly more formal/darker toned clothing that more emphasized professionalism and warmth — the curse of living in the boston-cambridge area for the ten or so years before his death.)

ANY NOTABLE RELATIONSHIPS WITH NPCS AT THE DEPARTMENT? — likely enjoys the company of the doorkeeper/spent some time talking with him after refusing to enter his personal bardo. like... there's something that jo probably really enjoys about his affable demeanor and their general interactions.

ARE THERE ANY RUMORS OR GOSSIP ABOUT THEM? — probably some hubub around his refusal to enter his bardo and what the drama/issue there is!! also, mirroring what maya said, likely some questions about the specific nature of his relationship to romeo. i also have to imagine that some people would LOVE to know if it's possible to actually make him angry/what it would take to push him that far.

[reformedpeasant]

Do you still have that one tattoo?

That's how it works, of course you do

[pxsserine]

🧋 "What's your go-to thing to drink? Do you prefer cold or hot drinks?"

he's fidgeting with his mug as he responds, twisting the thing back and forth as he considers his words, with perhaps a bit too much effort for the question at hand. "i'd have to say hot drinks." he pauses, taking a sip of his drink. "i don't think that i like coffee much-- it sets me a bit on edge, even if it's weak. i've been drinking apple cider lately after i saw it on a recent job, and i've been liking that. but..." he trails off here, jolted into a frown at the thought of his most recent collection. after a second, he regains himself, forcing on a ghost of a smile. "but i'll always enjoy an english breakfast tea, no matter what."

[pxsserine]

How loosely or strictly do they use the word 'friend'?

if we're being honest, he uses the term incredibly strictly. jo doesn't correct other people if they use it towards him and he doesn't feel as if they're friends. that being said, almost everyone is an acquaintance in his eyes, unless he has a genuine sense of having forged a bond with them. he's tentative to get close to other people -- there's a churning sense in his gut that clenches up whenever he thinks about the possibility of closeness (it's ye olde hedgehog's dilemma acting up). so if he calls you a friend, it probably means he'd go to the ends of the earth for you.

[pxsserine]

open for meme asks!

INTERACTIONS:

send 💬 + [character name] for my muse to talk about that character! • in-character dev questions • truth or dare • random in-character questions

OOC DEV:

send 🌌 for a mood board for our muses • thematic headcanons • peek into my character's dreams • specific but helpful dev questions • the major arcana, reversed

[manny-jacinto]

MANNY JACINTO 📸 by Huy Doan

[blade-bird]

on the first day, God created everything there ever was.

on the second day, God came to take it all back, piece by piece.