cut-tongue

me and my friends understand the future

[epitaphary-deactivated20160808]

     “ hope I’m not interrupting whatever it is you’re doing. The fact is is that I’m  lost, and I’m too embarrassed about it to ask my supervisor. Which district is  this? I know, I know–pathetic. But it wasn’t exactly my fault, you know? I was following this kid. You know how it is. “

[shitakiri-blog]

"I'm busy."

Her open backpack clanks its rusty agreement as she shoves another handful of metal scrap into it, swinging haphazardly between them as it slips further off of her shoulder and closer to his shoes. It's a weak dismissal, though, faded and shapeless as her grey-brown clothes and her washed-out eyes. The only strips of intense colour is the short lump of her hair - brushed back to face him after her words fail to move him out of her personal space.

"... you look like somebody I used to know. Not from the coast, are you?"

[shitakiri-blog]

[ it amuses him greatly how she’s forced to swallow her pride just to give him a pen, and that old feeling of schadenfreude bubbles up in him, same as it always used to. sour, nostalgic, giddy. a smile creeps onto his face the longer she deliberates. ]

Thank you very much. Sad you don’t have a green one, though. I like those best.

[ he sets to work, scribbling on the papers all over, making edits and spelling corrections and revisions in the margins when he stops suddenly and lifts his head to look back up at her. ]

I’m getting paid for this, right?

“No,” she snaps, “you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart and because you genuinely care about righting the wrongs you inflicted on the world before someone else can attempt to copy you and blight their soul with the same sins that weigh heavily on your remorseful shoulders. If we offered to pay you, you definitely wouldn’t -”

(she chokes on the offer, but powers through it quicker than last time)

“- have to name your price, or anything. There’s no order to meet your demands if you’re willing to stop this construction, or anything. It's not as though we're literally desperate for your help, and you know it, you smug bastard.”

[shitakiri-blog]

             Whoa, what? Hey–sorry about the whole lashing out bit. I mean, I didn’t expect cordiality; guess a lot of people are stressed, or somethin’. If…if you don’t mind, could I? Some asshole jerk robbed me two nights back and I’ve been running on empty ever since. Like, he couldn’t wait three more miles to get his own food! He had to steal! Like, what kind of low-down, awful, scum-born dickhead does that kind of thing??

            –did you say you were doing stretches?

People are definitely a lot more worried about eating their greens than they ever were when I was at school, that's for sure! It's a good thing that we've got the Foundation to sort out rationing and make sure nobody's in danger of getting scurvy or - or worse! I don't know what's worse than scurvy, but I'm sure it's out there, just waiting for us to skip our carrots one time too many!

Or our stretches, I guess! I know my ankle is just waiting for me to stop paying attention to it so it can click even more out of joint, hehe. Do you exercise?

[hakanamu-blog]

There’s something in him that tells him, this is awful, this is the new world and it is awful, but he’s too used to the horror she’s weaving on her words, the way she drifts from the conversation and tells her tale but doesn’t tell it to him – the way she goes hollow and reminds him of all that’s happened. What gun’s been shot, what window’s been smashed, and he should be horrified because he knows he’d feel the fear in his gut and up his throat if it was anything like before, but it isn’t, and though he can change the tone of his voice and twist his mouth into a smile, he can’t feel the revelation that something is wrong. He knows it, and he doesn’t need to remind himself with every hostage, every mutual killing.

His head is up, snapped back like a rubber band on two fingers, when she says the right name. Like an acolyte in training, he waits for her to finish speaking, finding the right note in his own words to spin the conversation back up itself.

“I – that doesn’t sound bad at all. Really! It’s – it’s a system. I like it. It’s the kind of stuff we need now, more than ever. Every outpost we keep, or take back, that’s one step closer to fixing the situation, right? The city, at least. Like those kids – yeah, I’ve heard of them, but haven’t seen what they do. I don’t have any names, is what I mean. Aren’t they, like, really young, too? Elementary age? That’s – that’s awful. But, hold on – ”

And it’s the silver lining of getting a gun pulled on him, of hearing of batons and thinking of using his to brain Kageyama when he went for the knife, when he can feel his lips split and the blood in them pulse when he does so, a sort of relief to hear a name he can enjoy.

“Aika-chan’s alive?! Thank God, I thought she was – no, I didn’t think she was dead, but I didn’t know if she was okay or not – I’m glad, oh my God, that’s one worry taken care of! And she’s with you guys?! That’s awesome! Great! Where is she?”

[shitakiri-blog]

That pauses her in her sell, drags her out of her checklist and out of her head and out of her shaky guilt and all the rest in a few simple words and the hint of a deeper story she doesn't know. He looks so unabashedly happy to hear about her, and it adds a slice of honesty to his default chipper demeanour.

"I - Yeah. You know Tsuhinde? We were in the same mutual. Not that we talked much, but she never mentioned you to me. How did you meet her?"

(Honestly, she's more than a little jealous of the way that dense sparkly girl can get under people's skins so quickly and leave them honestly excited about seeing her again, that they don't see her innocent suggestions and bright giggles as nasty hinderances. Nobody ever turns a suspicious glare on Aika, never turns their policedog senses on her. They should. She's almost certain. Nobody could be that properly innocent. She’s seen the original remnant tapes in bits and pieces, but she can recognize that same influx of unabashed adoration she saw in those monsters at the mention of their queen as the one meeting her eyes curiously now. Not to imply anything untowards about the girl who has unfailingly kept her secret even now -- )

(But.)

“She’s working on the Monokuma Kids case with me. She’s better at talking to them so we’ve been working on getting her clearance to visit their settlement. For the moment, she’s been going in and out of the city hubs to get them used to her face. If you came with me now, you’d probably get out of intake just in time to catch her clocking out.”

- and then, because she never quite scrubbed the suspicion out of her,

“She never mentioned you.”

[shitakiri-blog]

when are you boring motherfuckers going to stop shopping for faceclaims by clicking through my oc navigation

[shitakiri-blog]

I hate reports! What's even the point in typing all of this up if I already know it? Why can't I just tell people to ask me if they want to know and tell them then! 

My wrist hurts...

[bloodyvomit]

I can’t work effectively on an empty stomach.

[ he plucks the folder from her with long, ungloved fingers and thumbs through it. gives a dissatisfied click of the tongue. ]

Well… this is certainly something akin to mine, but the setup’s wrong, all wrong. I don’t think I’m so rusty as to– Have you got a pen on you? I’m sure you do, the nice pockets of that suit can’t only be filled with tiny filigree revolvers and embroidered handkerchiefs. Would you loan it to me? Only for a moment, I have to correct this.

[shitakiri-blog]

She chokes back a series of increasingly petty insults and rolls her sleeve up without antagonistic commentary until it slips neatly over the joint of skin-to-carbon and she can pull a pen out of a slot. Handing it over to him is the hardest effort she's made yet, but he's looking seriously at their scavenged leaks and there's no need to keep her fingers fixed around the matching china blue of her pen when he can actually use it for something.

" - here," Pippin manages, throwing it into his lap. "While you're there, you could make a list of things they'd need to properly set this up. It's like nothing any of our members have seen before."

[hakanamu-blog]

“ – as a second language? I struggled through English enough that my mother sought tutoring! How did you pick Japanese up so quickly?”

Folded hands on two knees and tucked away far enough where the sun cuts down the tile it casts upon but keeps them in muted shadow - her voice is clean, like running water, like working powerlines, and she feels clear enough that the hair pinned to her scalp feels normal, like they aren’t stealing moments with survivors to keep conversation.

“I admire those who take on second languages. It was expected of me to learn English, but I often felt as if I’d do anything to get out of those dreary classes.”

[shitakiri-blog]

"Pick up as is a wrong way to say that, more, never quite drop properly. Learned it as I needed to, and I am better the more reason I find to speak it. Theater terms I am good in. Insults, too!"

She laughs into her tea, the barely-restrained veneer of frustration still simmering behind all of her (oddly childish, at times) words another neat counterpoint to the graceful perfection of her natural enemy. Petty to think like that still, but she's done nothing uncharitable since that thought and that cuts her a little fucking leeway, right? It's all very civilised, basically, and she hates it.

"Sounds I think very hard for you to live - uh, struggle? Survive? One of those words. Very difficult for you. Japanese lessons are so terrible I almost plan to join villains for escape, honest. How many English did you complete to learn? More than mine Japanese, I hope?"

[setsufuku-blog]

            Aaa–you scared me!!! Jesus christ, is this just a shitty ‘surprise Tae’ day? It’s not even my birthday!! My satchel’s empty, I don’t have food, so don’t bother asking and haul your ass to the nearest Foundation giveaway. Who are you, anyways?!

[shitakiri-blog]

-- whoops! My bad, sorry! I didn't think anyone was out here today, or I would have definitely made more of an effort to clomp properly! It's kind of hard to do it when you have to keep reminding yourself, you know, so I only make the effort when I'm certain other people will appreciate it. Hi! I'm doing my stretches. It's pretty nice out here, huh? I wish I'd had a chance to work out in the open air ages ago, hehe. It's nice to meet you. I have snacks, if you need food, um.  

[epitaphary-deactivated20160808]

are there some aces up your sleeve? have you no idea that you’re in deep?

                                              independent dangan ronpa oc.

[shitakiri-blog]

still working on updating the other pages and adding in the boys but riko and komaki tamura are now offically blog-active and i'll put up opens for them tomorrow

[hakanamu-blog]

“Oh my God, I hope you’re all okay, though! Nobody’s, like, hurt, right? I mean, at least you aren’t hurt! You wouldn’t get to be here. Well, it depends on what you wanna spin exactly, but they’re all similar - it has to be weighted at the bottom and the top so you can get the momentum going! I like spinning sabre best, but I grew up on baton.”

[shitakiri-blog]

"- yeah! It's, haha, they're all just props to me. Everything in ballet is designed to be light as it can be so you don't have to worry about your balance, mostly. It's all really well constructed, but it's super disposable and easy to get rid of. The costumes, though, oh my god! The Firebird headdress I had to wear for the talent shot nearly broke my neck, I swear. What's the difference between a baton and a sabre?"

[bloodyvomit]

Clearly my high opinion’s justified if the Foundation’s lowering itself to asking a filthy Despair affiliate for assistance. It would be a matter of pride if I felt threatened, but there’s no one that can do what I do. Unfortunately, I have no intention of leaving this hovel, so bring the king’s horses and men to me. And a nice meal, if you please. Then I’ll consider it.

[shitakiri-blog]

Monarch files, free of charge. They're doing something designed along the lines of your research - or what we assume is yours. Keep it. If it's not yours, they're not a danger - and if it is yours, we're hoping you'll help us kneecap it just to defend your brand. Ask me for a meal again and I'll feed you your teeth.

[shitakiri-blog]

"- and then the alarms went off, so we're stuck in your space until they're totally sure it wasn't a gas leak! It's pretty cool to get to see you training, though. It's so different! How do you do that thing, with the thing, where you spin it around like that?"

[daunanka-blog]

[; { He shuffles forwards and almost falls–a precarious tilt and the hairs on his arm prick because shit, he’s going to drop it, what a disaster–but he manages. Toes tremble with the weight. What a weakling. He almost laughs; bittle bones stay brittle when the gyms aren’t run or spotted. Teeth savagely bite back a stupid little grin.

Oh. He’s–no, they’re looking for someone else. Black eyes wilt for a moment, before he perks up. Ah, but that’s child’s play, isn’t it? Just like he asked. A sign, to continue the talents! Perfect! And suddenly he’s shouldering it like he lifts paints every day, to pass the time, or something. A tuft of black hair waves as he nods in agreement. }

“To be honest, I don’t know; the only person I’ve seen is you. I hope they’re okay … anyways, I left my phone with them, so it wouldn’t do me any good. Sorry I took so long.”

[shitakiri-blog]

They nod, and beckon him over to an almost unnoticable pile of similar cans, haphazard and dented from where their own grip had given up.

"I don't have anything on me, but that's okay. Little Fox said they'd be coming to the factories if they lost us, and I had to go there and not talk to anyone. I got lost, but someone gave me good directions. We should get the rest of the paint. I don't know how much we'll need. Did they get your pack? I need a camera card again. There's too much I haven't got documented properly. We might need the second factory. What do you think?"

"- ha! Got you. That was a good joke, right? I've been practising them while I waited for everyone to get here. I think I won't need that many, as long as I'm careful to only tell them to one person at a time. Do you know any jokes? I think we're going to be here for another eleven hours and fifteen minutes, unless the last truck has come in already. It shouldn't have, but Little Fox might have convinced them getting us back was more important than farming."

[hakggyo-blog]

i had no clue the theater life was this tough– i mean, i sort of watch plays here and there, but i figured it was just typical “lets work together as a family, y’all” sort of stuff when it comes to the backstage mechanics of things, not like.. when cousin sue comes in with her pet dog and doesnt tell you that he hasnt gotten his rabies shot, and uncle fred decided to drop the bomb that he’s remarrying the same chick that keeps taking his clothes and hightailing it to hawaii– and then the five rat children he bought along end up pissing off the dog,so you got half the family trying not to get bit by some mut and the other half arguing with fred about his romance life

you know, like that, but in showbiz

[shitakiri-blog]

Jesus, no. It's a good act, but you only ever see the talent bothering to put it up. They're the - you ever see a favourite kid at their unpopular cousin's birthday? You have to learn to ignore guilt trips, tantrums, threats and physical attacks from people too weak to even swing a sugarglass bottle hard enough to smash it. It's all fun and games until someone has to stick to their mark, or keep their mic at 7, or stop improvising during a fast-light scene. The song might be taking you down left but your cue is upstage all the way and I'm not afraid to do something brutal to your “vocal-healing” drink during the intermission. I'm not surprised I got this job. Kids like you lot got must be really fucking bad, and I'm a Scot.  I know there's a director here, and she's got her fucking work cut out for her if she thinks her title means jack shit.

But, what about you? What kind of circle do you run in?

[bloodyvomit]

…I was wondering when you all would root me out. Playing the good doctor isn’t a good guise, I suppose! Are you going to arrest me? I do hope you brought the furry cuffs.

[shitakiri-blog]

You've got a real high opinion of yourself, huh, Valentine? I keep saying we should just pretend we've forgotten about you and wait for you to attention seek your way into a trap. We need your help. It's a consultation, apparently. Someone's been trying to rework what you did, and the Foundation blah blah good will of all man blah blah pretend you aren't heartless shit.