Castle of Cards

✼ A Roleplay Blog by Cinbon ✼ My Ride-or-Die's: ♥︎ @crownlcsking + @toketsujisatsu ♥︎

[vankaarten]

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                  ❝ 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔣𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔥𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔩𝔢…                          …𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡—𝔩𝔢𝔱'𝔰 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶. ❞

                     【•　ＲＵＬＥＳ　||　ＰＲＯＭＰＴＳ　||　ＲＯＳＴＥＲ　•】

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[ofcrossroads]

make my muses do things. || @vankaarten

► Give Sanemi a hand-crafted flower crown, Kanae! Make a man feel bonita~

A light smile, soft and warm, shapes Kanae's features as her fingers intertwines stems together. Years of practice make the motions second-nature. From bandages to weaving cloth and bouquets, she's found pleasure in many talents and hobbies over the years. As skilled as her hands are with a blade, she ties the flowers together with ease. Gentle hums as she weaves and bends with mastered craftsmanship. This is a typical spring activity among the ladies of the manor.

“ Shinazugawa-san, I have something for you. ” She muses, presenting the flower crown on the palms of her hands. Her smile beams as brightly as the lilies that wind among the wisteria.

“ I thought these colors would suit you best. ” White and purple. Maybe he would have preferred green, but that's captured in the stems that lace together all the crown's components.

“ You'll wear it, won't you? ”

[vankaarten]

He was not born for pretty things—or so he thought; for it's not easy, being the brute that he is—with trails of tortured past painted in blood, his mother's tears, and the bruises his father proclaimed his ownership upon her—to even picture himself basking in the luxury of what little delight this cruel world has got to offer.

And yet, there she was, the Flower Hashira herself—the embodiment of every definition of beauty that was so far out of his reach—standing before his undeserving glare; a wreath made of woven florals that matched his dimmed gleam of violet, alongside the very color (or the lack thereof) representing purity, within her blossoming grip.

How could he ever deny the wholesome goodness that she is? When even the growing pace of his own heartbeat goes numb in his ribcage, replaced by the nervous flaps of metaphorical butterfly wings that turn his innards upside down, each time he sees the soft smile that graces those delicate-looking lips of hers?

"...sure. Why not?"

He didn't know how long he had been caught gawking before his stupefied tongue unknotted itself as hefty hands took the present and did their due diligence to fulfill her simple wish.

"Well...? How do I look? If the answer is 'terrible', I'm expecting you to take full responsibility."

[vankaarten]

Me considering picking up muses from other series: Ooo I like their personality

Me considering picking up muses from KN8: NICE LEGS WHO DIS

[ofmistnmoons]

For @vankaarten !!

Rays of sun kissed the boys skin, before any doubt of his humanity crept within the minds of wind and snake. But the child did not burn.

For 3 long years he survived in darkness, starved of any warmth or care, and yet he remain human.

His blood remain human.

Right when iron rot came to touch his lips, with every ounce of strength he cut the fingers of Upper One to be caught in the arms of Senami Shinazugawa the moment before he could crash into the unforgiving floor. Days unconscious, his form cradled against Shinazugawa chest, his sleeping state is met with the dance of the butterfly girls.

A flutter of movement, checking over his health, it was clear he was suffering from severe dehydration and malnutrition. But for the hell he’d lived through…

Nothing short of a miracle.

Yuichiro remains asleep, dead to the world, even when he’s laid to rest in the bed right next to the sleeping form of his twin. Muichiro.

[vankaarten]

How many days have passed? Or is it weeks? Months? How long has he been knocked out of his senses? Feels like it's barely more than a couple of hours...

Is this the afterlife? Has he been reincarnated? Then why is he looking at the exact same ceiling he once woke up to after the nightmare that took his brother away?

...oh wait.

Pools of mint fluttering back to life, the young swordsman's train of thought only came to a halt once the one person his soul had long yearned for entered the silent monologue.

Right... Yuichirō— He—

A sudden wave of panic set in, the Mist Hashira moved his body way too fast; too soon—completely dismissing the stiffness that had nestled comfortably within whatever little contractile fiber he'd got left after his drawn-out slumber; minuscular figure unceremoniously struck the cold, hard floor underneath with a thud that was a hundred times louder than the pained whine that follows—cracking with every bit of powerless attempt to once again vibrate the teenager's vocal cord.

"Dam—mit..."

He's a fighter—he always has been; an identity Muichirō refuses to let go, no matter how close he stands before death's door.

So fighting for a way out of the prison that was his very own physique, he went; dragging his torso inch by inch, guerilla-style to accommodate the numbness lacing his midriff and all the way down his lower limbs, to this other bed that seemed to be hosting yet another patient—knowledge of his company having been bearing the exact same face he wore remained far beyond his grasp.

"H-help... Please... Help me..."

Droplets of sweat the size of steamed kernels painted rivers down his trembling arm as it reached for the furniture with the last sliver of strength and hope he could muster.

[ryusxnka]

@vankaarten ( Rangiku! )

S tealth was one of the multifarious aptitudes he'd honed since his youth, before his present days in that rundown orphanage, always meddling in his late father's projects in his bureau without obtaining any ounce of chastising or punishable consequences. Not so effortlessly seen, he was, and he had been proud of such accomplishments. -- Nowadays, however, such knacks of survival were occasionally ineffective; he's been seized in the midst of purloining a baked delicacy from an obnoxious woman's Diner, Teal eyes opposition hers as teeth gritted. Cornered between her and a wall, he scoffs.

" Get out of my way! ------ Don't think I won't push you just cause you're an old hag! "

[vankaarten]

While bustling business meant bustling extra banknotes from generous tips for the blonde bombshell's generous rack, it also put an emphasis on the increasingly-bustling need for vigilance among staff members on duty; given that it would be far from their virgin rodeo at this point if, once again, some naughty hands decided to lay their dirty fingers on said merchandise and run with it. A prestigious baseball final was currently taking place at a stadium barely a train ride away, after all—and thieves... Back when she'd, too, got to scrape the tank as a young bottom feeder herself just to ensure she would've seen the sun rise yet again, Rangiku had known all sorts of aces up a swindler's sleeve when it came to seizing a seasonal opportunity like this.

Not that she could've done it on her own—but that was another story for another day.

She had warned the others ahead of time not to display their mouth-watering pastries so out in the open on such a busy afternoon; only to have her words fall on deaf ears—while the waitress, now spitting a quiet hiss of an "What did I fucking tell you!" at her peers on her way out, was eventually left to be the one to tail the glimpses of this young boy, height barely visible from across their serving lane, who'd seemed to think he'd been slick in his attempt to fool her pair of muted robin's egg blue and escape unscathed with a piece of "free" sweet treat.

At least that was, until her wanton frame and the layers of bricks behind him had the kid entrapped.

"Who are you calling 'old hag', you stunted midget..."

The remark clearly struck the model a nerve, for she was quick to emit a murderous aura that had not been there when her intention had remained purely to retrieve the unpaid commodity within the stranger's grip. With one vigorous swing of a slender arm, she willfully entered a contestation of force to see who would prevail to claim the rightful ownership of the damned morsel.

"Where are your mom and dad?! I'm going to make sure they'll be giving you a good spanking back home for this unacceptable behavior!!!"

[vankaarten]

As a non-native English speaker, sometimes I do need to look up whether I get certain expressions right or not. What I did not expect, however, was for AI to be, uhh...

Well, see for yourself. You decide.

[breathlessbrute]

he's losing his mind.

but of course. everytime he eats a damn demon, this happens. craving for more blood, drooling, nails digging on his skin, ripping it off from his face. he's an uncontrollable beast.

and he's doing everything he can to not look for a human. last thing he wants is to kill an innocent person and get fired. or become forced to commit seppuku. or, no, worse, — not being able to see his big brother anymore.

so hurting himself like this until he bleeds, really fucking helps.

he just hopes nobody sees him like this.

[vankaarten]

He was simply strolling through the night; patrolling, guarding the acres of forest lining the borders that veiled the existence of the Ubuyashiki Mansion and warding off any squirt of devil spawns that could threaten the very essence of the organization as a whole—when his sharpened senses eventually caught glimpse of a familiar presence...

No, that can't be it.

It was the smell of...blood. It was the sight of a person...injured, badly. But— Who was it? Who did it? That...shadow...of a body so characteristically tall for someone his age?! That...haircut?!! That outfit—the grape-colored vest hugging his spine by his ribcage??? With his own...crimson-stained hands... And face...limbs...dripping rivers of red???

What the hell is going on here?!!

"G-Genya...," in a strange mixture of befuddlement and disbelief, the surviving twin mumbled under his jagged breathing; albeit loud enough for the younger Shinazugawa to address his arrival, "...wh-what are you— What is this??? What happe— Are you okay?!"

There were so many questions he wanted to ask—but for now, fastening his grip upon the hilt of his own sword sounded like the only proper answer the Mist Pillar could afford in his troubled little brain.

[vankaarten]

Mood booster:

The only downside being I can't really plug my charger in when Yūji's still there 😂😂😂 But it's all good, he's easy to unhook! 🥰

[toketsujisatsu]

H e gradually pivots his anatomy, positioning himself in opposition, to converse with her more accordingly, perplexity exemplifying itself upon his youthful countenance as prominently as his mane of golden locks, whilst she went on and on, mentioning what he deduced were flavors of something he knew naught of. --- Pointless trivialities." ... Pickle ones? " Eyes straiten towards his persistent sibling. " What are you even talking about? I never ... Hm. Are they some kind of food or ... ? " he inquires, brows furrowing.

[vankaarten]

Gasp! He's biting! Now we're getting somewhere!

"Yes, yes, they are! Eeeh??? Have you not tried them yet? Seriously??? Anii-sama, you're missing out!!!"

Oh how she wished she could've just gone out herself at the very moment to pick things up at the konbini—in peace, without a sliver of worry about whether or not she would make it back home in one piece.

"Well, let me write it down, then. You know, a shopping list for the next time Dera-san drives you around," the brunette pulled a pen and a small piece of paper out of what appeared to be thin air—almost as if she'd been performing a literal magic show—and started scribbling.

"Do you have other things that have piqued your fancy so far? Or maybe stuff you think you're going to miss from the village? Ah, ah!!! How about the vending machines??? Have you stumbled across any???"

[vankaarten]

@sol-multimuse said:

A little something from @world-slasher for your potential enjoyment, for Yuji Hey (apology) "Hey." Ryomen muttered, lowering himself down to sit beside his nephew, softly grunting as he finally met the concrete beneath them. He'd known the moment he'd hung up that he'd fucked up, and so when he'd realised he had no classes that afternoon? He made sure to hop on the bullet train from Kyoto to make his way down to Tokyo. He could crash in one of the spare rooms at the school overnight, make his way back to Kyoto in the morning. Yuji was all he had left, he had to make an effort sometimes. Which did, unfortunately, involve apologising for things. "I'm not good at this shit, you know that."

The Many Meanings of "Hey" // always accepting!

He was scolded again—for protecting someone; for sticking his nose where it didn't belong, in a circumstance he could've easily avoided; for getting hurt. It was almost as if he trained to be strong for...no clear objective in sight. He knew hospital bills weren't the issue—his injuries weren't even that bad; and what the national insurance wouldn't cover, Miss Ieiri had already got them patched through her miraculous RCT.

So when the same ol' reprimanding voice played out over their call like a broken record, Yūji decided it was finally time to take matters into his own hands and cut their conversation short. Not that he'd expected his uncle to take any less than five business days to mend things like most working adults usually do—and yet, they they were, with their legs folded and rear parts warm against the scorching hot seating blocks in this random park not too far from the Tokyo branch of the Jujutsu High.

By the time words left Sukuna's parting lips, the silence between them had already grown too maddening to ignore. Neither of them was the kind to talk much to each other whenever they hit a bump in their relationship, and today was no exception.

"I survived, so what even is the problem here?" the teen finally responded; pools of chocolate still refused to meet the older's pair of wine.

[toketsujisatsu]

" -Not really. " Words of authenticity forthwith absconded passed semi-partitioned lips as effortlessly as the zephyr combing through the locks of their manes, whilst cobalt eyes conveyed rightward, towards a shop presently being burdened by an assemblage of boisterous masses of civilians hankering for their caffeinated intakes." Not everyone pursues a loud and exciting lifestyle like you and Kugisaki do." He had always been their contrasting counterpart, their twilight constellation, the respiring shadow whose partialities were shackled by a life of solitariness and the tranquility amid its quietude.

[vankaarten]

A tuft of sakura-colored strands gently oscillated upward as he blew out a scoff through his pout at his peer's response. Not that he expected the brunet to change his mind—this was exactly why he'd lured him out of his mancave in the first place, anyway.

"Well, I do. I get tired of you locking yourself up in your room and us only talking through the toneless alphabet on our screens," arms folded together across his chest, Yuji pressed his lips into a displeased thin line as he eyed the not-so-appealing serpentine-like queue at the coffee shop they had meant to visit. Knowing Megumi's typical flavor-lacking order of said drink, the wait didn't really look like a worthy quest to engage themselves in at the moment; given however brief the shikigami-user would be willing to allocate his time for their unexpected outing.

"Shall we go somewhere quieter, then? Like the cinema, maybe? They've been quite experimental lately, with the delicacies you can get at their café to bring into the studio," pair of chestnut shifted its stance in search for any subtle change in his company's expression, "Or do you wanna hit the theme park? It's not the least crowded option, I know—but it's the afternoon on a summer weekday. Shouldn't be as crazy busy as the weekend, and I heard there are a couple of new rides we can try out—so that we have stories to bring home that'll make Kugisaki jealous..."

Realizing his words could've led their thoughts astray from the intended purposes, he quickly added, "Y'know, for shite and giggles. And bonus points."

[huboaris]

The more words that leave the demon's mouth, the more Inosuke's heart feels like it's being squeezed by thorny vines. He can't really place why at first. Demons say all kinds of crazy things. Some true, some lies, but none of it important to the young slayer.

But... this one is speaking in such specifics. It doesn't sound like something being make up on the spot to mess with him. And, in an unfortunate twist, that messes with him so much more.

"Do you.... know something?" It is such a bad idea to be entertaining this notion. Inosuke knows that. But something deep inside him has been craving answers about where he'd come from. About what happened to make his birth parents abandon him. About the reason he'd been raised by a boar out in the wild all alone. He'd never let himself get too involved with those feelings. They did him no good. Not when finding more about his past was basically impossible with only his name and nothing more to go off of.

Until... now? It might be a dangerous path to go down, but he can't help but take it, feet planted firmly to the ground.

[vankaarten]

Upon the realization that he struck a nerve somewhere within the pretty-faced fighter and his unwavering battle stance, the demon let out a throaty chuckle—the salt-spiked appetizer to what he knew was an unpatched wound that would bleed out sooner than later at this point; one so grating it would scratch anyone's ears as the soundwave pierced into their auditory canals.

"My, my. What do you take us upper-moons for, if not all the knowledge we've soaked ourselves in throughout our hundreds of years of existence? Whether it's something we deem significant or not, however, is an entirely different story, I suppose. Not all of us seem to enjoy the pity parties your kind loves to throw as they're drawing their dying breaths—or at least, that's what I understand from Akaza-dono's complaints whenever Muzan-sama gathers us around in this castle," his fan was folded for once; claw-like nails starting to fidget against the end with the clasp that kept its leaves together—a behavior meant to subtly tantalize.

"As for me... I don't really have a choice but to listen to my faithful followers here, now, do I? It's kind of my job as a cult-leader, after all; lifting the burden off humanity's shoulders before they meet their peaceful demise," silvery strands swayed softly at the shaking of his head, slender legs inched closer to the very spot Inosuke was standing on.

"And that, my boy, is how I met your mother."

[vankaarten]

Now that all the music starters I owe are out, I'm hoping to go back to my regular flow of tending to drafts and ask box—whenever work doesn't reel me in, of course. And while I'd love to start bu tonight (I mean, I already did; but I actually planned to tackle a couple more stuff), I'm catching a flu and the antihistamine I took earlier, despite being slow-release, got my eyelids feeling super heavy right now, so yeah. Gwamma needs to sleep first, but hopefully will be able to tend to more interactions in the morning! 😴

[vankaarten]

*passes out again from the morning medication*

[thunderbreathe]

"the crickets are too loud tonight..." someone couldn't sleep for the life of him, so he would get up out of bed and go for a run or something. maybe if he exhausted himself enough, he'd fall asleep.

[vankaarten]

"Would you like to be the one making the noises in their stead, then, mm? Might as well, right? Since you're already moaning in the middle of this supposedly quiet evening?"

The night-owl of a Hashira made his presence known out of the blue; probably over his own petty take when it came to a disciple complaining—however justified the sentiment truly was.

"I'd gladly help you with that," he added; the back-to-back cracks of his hefty knuckles the only sound currently on par with the melody of the dark hours the younger slayer had been lamenting about in the first place.

[huboaris]

"You..." Inosuke doesn't know how to explain it, but this demon in particular really is pissing him off. So, even though he can sense the power difference between them, he's shifting into a battle-ready position.

"What the hell are you talking about? I don't have a father!"

[vankaarten]

"Hm?"

For a split second, the upper-rank two was caught off guard by the young slayer's peculiar denial.

Ahh... That's right. How could he expect the kid to know anything about his roots when the only source from which he was supposed to learn about them has long ended up in his belly? Not that he'd thought her baby would've even survived the seemingly-fatal fall, anyway...

"My bad. I shouldn't have assumed such a guy, who had no problem beating your mother black and blue over you crying like the normal, healthy infant that you were, would've had it in him to keep you alive for as long as...whatever thing that raised you has."

[vankaarten]

Now that all the music starters I owe are out, I'm hoping to go back to my regular flow of tending to drafts and ask box—whenever work doesn't reel me in, of course. And while I'd love to start bu tonight (I mean, I already did; but I actually planned to tackle a couple more stuff), I'm catching a flu and the antihistamine I took earlier, despite being slow-release, got my eyelids feeling super heavy right now, so yeah. Gwamma needs to sleep first, but hopefully will be able to tend to more interactions in the morning! 😴

[toketsujisatsu]

H e had ultimately returned from the confinements of the bathroom, palm and fingers configurating femininity, besmeared afresh in blanketing pristiness, wafting amid the atmosphere a discernible redolence of the coconut-fragranced soap he repetitiously utilizes amidst his instances of socializing, lightly pressed against the curved doorknob presently severing two hearts from intimately connecting, its counterparted threshold gradually exhibiting itself to him, distributing the one behind it a weary countenance still manifesting, without his command, a faint residual of the prior roseate-hued flush another had generated. Words forthwith tug at his ears upon entering the bedroom, and he pivots his crown to glower at the one addressing him from atop the bedding. " Do you never tire of barking these absurdities, Shinazugawa? " he inquires, closing the door and rejoining his companion on the inviting mattress. " That look you're giving me ... " aloft their lap he positions, enveloping their waist with their legs." ... is unsettling. "

[vankaarten]

When Sanemi was making his salacious remarks earlier, this...was not the outcome he foresaw.

Not that he'd complain, though—if anything, he was more than pleased with said result; evidently so, for the raspy chortle that rolled past his shit-eating grin only grew louder at the seizing of his hips by the teacher's pair of supple extremities—one of which disheveled fingers started stroking eagerly in appreciation; stopping only once they treaded the dangerous territory of his company's buttock.

Indeed, desserts are best served last.

"Hm. So you prefer I speak sweet nothings and sweet nothings alone, is that it?" his tone sultry and low; violet pools resting upon inviting lips, ignoring the brunet's warning—all the while unoccupied knuckle brushed against defined jawline before eventually tucking wild, damp strands behind his lover's ear.

"Would you like the gentleness to extend to the physical stuff, too, mm? Slower paces for us to ride out the high just a little longer?"