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a multimuse by dana.

[rekant-2]

no rules page yet. here's a pinned.

dana/25/they. priv/selective/mutuals only.

this blog is a remake of a remake of a remake. i'll write anyone you can remember being on previous iterations of it, and am open to suggestions for new ocs if you need a particular gap filled in a storyline. i generally focus on healing and addiction/recovery narratives, and that's very much what's going on with the characters listed on this blog atm. i work often & am finishing up my bachelors this semester. i'll be here when i want to & when i can be. please feel free to message me if u ever wanna plot <3

voicetesting focus: eoin byrne, daniil vasilyev. main muses: eden ziegler. character list. icons under the cut.

rachel mcadams (2), mia goth, elizabeth debicki

[rekant-2]

go follow @rekant regular to keep up with my antics and shenanigans

[rekant-2]

make new blog

yes

why do you ask us, the people, when you're going to do it anyway?

Voting ended onJul 30, 2023

[bluedprintsarchive]

@rekant

"hafrey."

[rekant-2]

you know what.

"rodriguez."

[debtbound]

@rekant : i know i should have called, but at least i brought you ice cream. ( akira. )

it's only there, standing on the doorstep, blinking a little, that mia realizes she must look like a fucking mess.

her hair's pulled up in a messy bun, just sort of clipped up as best she could manage in the middle of blearily stumbling around to make a breakfast of overcooked eggs and burnt bacon. bacon shouldn't be allowed to burn with how much fat is in it, but it does and she manages it at least once every two times she makes it. it's one of the only days per week she actually takes off from, well, everything.

busking isn't easy. it's standing outside as long as the weather permits. people don't empathize and toss a few dollars in a violin case if they see you sitting. that means you're not desperate enough to need it or whatever. so she stands, and her ankles ache and her feet protest and every pair of shoes she has never seems to last as long as they did when she was a kid.

so on one day off per week, where she catches up on laundry and cleaning and everything except grocery shopping, mia doesn't really put herself together. that's for people who have a lot more money than she does. akira always looks kind of put together. even when she looks upset, or sad, or almost angry, she still manages to look more put together than this.

i'm embarrassed, she thinks, and then her gaze falls to the bag in akira's hand.

"you got me ice cream?" she manages after a second, incredulous. "it's—hey, it's fine that you didn't call. i probably wouldn't have answered anyway.

mia opens the door a little wider and shifts with the motion, body pressed against the thin slat of wood with a layer of chipped white paint. "come in. sorry about all the laundry."

[rekant-2]

"yeah."

akira brings food out of habit. her father — her... best friend, the only consistent company she's been graced with for the majority of her life — had always been moving. never rushing, but always moving with such intense purpose that akira often took a backseat. food changes things; you sit together and drink from the same pot. you slow to an almost-stop. you talk, you take a minute. you breathe, finally.

she steps inside after being welcomed, sets the plastic bag on the nearest surface and looks around without reservation.

"you should sit down for a second. is something burning?"

[notmorbid]

grief is the thing with feathers.

dialogue prompts from grief is the thing with feathers by max porter.

come and sleep in my bed.

i won't leave until you don't need me anymore.

you've done something bad. i can tell.

men are rarely truly kind, but they are often funny.

you remind me of everything i've ever been interested in.

i lie about how you died.

you sound like a fridge magnet.

there's grief and there's impractical obsession.

go back to bed and let me deal with this.

how can you laugh about it? it's so sad.

ghosts do not haunt, they regress.

i'm not a performing monkey.

i never called you a motherfucker.

a gone dad is a gone dad ever.

i feel nervous about feeling cheerful.

are you being good?

don't worry about doing stuff or not doing stuff. it doesn't matter.

moving on, as a concept, is for stupid people.

any sensible person knows grief is a long-term project.

should we think about moving on?

you're not alone, kid.

how do you know when you've found something worth picking at?

just be good and listen to birds.

just be kind and look out for one another.

[inflamearc1]

the only reason the cops in tp aren't all inherently evil is just because none of them know what any of the laws are. that's literally not what they're there for. they're there to listen to hawk and to ride around the woods in their little mystery machines. that place in 2016 barely even has internet

[rekant-2]

my darling laptop is in the hospital BUT you can/should write with me on discord

[eluvial]

"since when do you not like potatoes?" christ almighty, they're potatoes. "you're not getting into some weird diet crap, are you?" high school girls: she's heard they are nightmares. "you have to eat."

[rekant-2]

"it's soggy," she repeats.

she doesn't trust it. she thinks there's vegetables in there. and too much butter. it probably just needs salt, but.

"why did you mash them."

[rekant-2]

@eluvial

"i'm. not eating that."

the two of them, sitting across from each other at the dining table.

"it's soggy."

[rekant-2]

i need to revamp this entire blog. who do we care about keeping. who do we want to see more of. what new themes concepts ideas do we want to see here. vote now on your phones

[mndvx]

JOHN WICK: CHAPTER 4 (2023) dir. Chad Stahelski ››› Hiroyuki Sanada as Koji Shimazu

[rekant-2]

just got out of a 6 and a half year relationship the other day so life is kind of in flux/stressful atm ;P i pop in to check on stuff here occasionally but you can always write/plot with me on discord if you have me on there. i'm infinitely better at replying (to short things) and the arcs will progress

[rekant-2]

rarely around on here but i promise i check in often and if you would like to plot things with me to write here or on discord i will always be super down to clown

[bluedprintsarchive]

"that might have been it," penny muses, "about the sun."

she drove for hours by herself and still missed the famous west coast sunshine. she always thought of it as a permanent thing but now that seems silly; seems like a frayed and unhinged daydream. with her feet on eden's rug she starts to think how the world is the same pretty much wherever she goes, which is both comforting and terrible to know.

but penny leans back. and she settles in. and she is almost held, here, so it has to be better.

she plucks the cigarette out of their hand. parts her lips for the smoke.

"you grew up here? with all this space."

[rekant-2]

"yeah."

with the space, and the trees, and the hot springs, and all the rest of it.

they rest their arm atop penny's shoulder, closing the distance themself. the cold's a good excuse; the fire, the blankets. they uncap a bottle of wine with one hand, taking a swig before offering it to penny in exchange for the cigarette.

"i wrote my first book here. made my first film. it's — yeah."

[luthienne]

Jack Gilbert, from Collected Poems; “Between Aging and Old”

[jupiter3-moved-3-deactivated202]

“he got, like, spooked by the mushrooms growing on our walk home.” meaning pointing and jumping on his little feet, making distressed little squeaks. it’d be worse if it wasn’t so cute.

“have we ventured into fairy folklore, or?”

[rekant-2]

"probably because he knows what they eat."

and now we are forced to ask the real questions: did this man try to explain the concepts of death and decay to a toddler.

"i didn't tell him about changelings, if that's what you're asking."