ONCE YOU'RE STRIPPED CLEAN, WHAT'S AT YOUR CORE? Behind The Mask.

ONCE YOU'RE STRIPPED CLEAN, WHAT'S AT YOUR CORE? ━ behind the mask.

you aren’t slick about whatever you think you’re hiding. glass shatters in your midst, blood spills, children scream. like some of your friends, your personality of choice is entirely artificial. the difference between you and them is that you can get away with it. you’re unknown, perhaps even to yourself, and your goals are complex and unknown. anyone stupid enough to fall for you is setting themselves up to be frustrated and confused, owing to your being ultimately unknowable. i hope you can find an identity that makes you comfortable.

━ silent admission. in tarot, the fool is numbered 0 ━ the number of unlimited potential. as the protagonist, he is ever present and therefore needs no number as well as no introduction. the world revolves around you in ways that i can't begin to describe, though you'd shrug it off if i were to begin to explain. i need you to know that time is running out. if you want to get this done, you need to start now. sloth is your greatest enemy in this world, and you can only run so far from the opposition when you start with such a disadvantage. keep your head high, yeah? the kid you were is still in there somewhere. you need to show him that it was worth it.

tagged: @yukcri THANK U SM <333 tagging: @autonomousxselves @moonrecalled @shadowedresolve @tenebriism @hellboundhermit @tacitusauxilium @insidesketches @segnisacfessis & anyone wearing jewelry or hairties!

˗ˏˋdialogue : severe injury/illness ˎˊ˗

change pronouns/tense as needed!

“holy shit… that’s a lot of blood...”

“that looks infected.”

“you’re burning up!”

“do you need to throw up?”

“are you okay? does anything hurt? who did this to you?!”

“it’s not that much blood.”

“it’s not infected! it just needs to be cleaned.”

“burning up? i’m freezing.”

“god, i feel like i’m gonna throw up.”

“i feel awful.”

“name? are you awake…?”

“can you hear me?”

“fuck— you barely have a pulse…”

“try to stay awake. talk to me.”

“fuck it, i’m calling an ambulance.”

“yeah… i’m awake.”

“my ears are ringing.”

“is this hell?”

“i’m so tired…”

“i just— i just need some rest.”

“you have to stay awake.”

“keep your eyes open!”

“stay with me… please.”

“i need you…”

“i swear to fucking god— do not stop breathing!”

“i don’t know how long i can stay up…”

“i’m trying.”

“i’m sorry…”

“i love you.”

“can’t breathe…”

too angsty? no such thing ;)

if these seem rushed, i’m sorry. i woke up at 11:45 and only had 15 minutes to think of something. out came this!

patch . help my muse patch up a wound . - Shinji or Ken!

Shinjiro had always been able to handle pain. To him, it was second nature. Growing up with Akihiko being the rough-and-tumble type he is even before learning how to box, in the Orphanage they both were raised in, meant there was a level of necessity to be able to roll with the punches, rewarded when you could, punished when you couldn't. a skill he'd learn repeatedly, endlessly, the necessity of during his time away from SEES. ━ the second you were on your ass, or you froze up, or your arms were tied, it made you easy. easy to hurt. easy to kill. ━━ Shinjiro never liked making things easy for anyone.

SEES had always been an exception, though : or rather he should say it'd always been to those he considers friends, which might be why for all the way he twitches; arm in Takeba's grasp as the muscles seize & he can't help the way the overzealous pang of nerves make him want to rip it away outright; he does not pull away even as he draws a sharp breath through his teeth, ignores the way the smell of antiseptic makes him feel more than slightly lightheaded, clenches his hands into fists before; in a moment of surprisingly animalistic single-minded worry; thinks that shit, he'd rather not look like he's about to hit her when she's helping him out, and lets his rough hands go limp again.

Still, his fingers twitch as the burns are cleaned, nerves overworked and bitterly loud in this fact. He'll have to jab at Akihiko later to aim his Zionga's better next time they're in Tartarus together, just for the fun of starting a fight, even if he knew damn well it wasn't Aki that kept lighting him up like a Christmas tree this time...

" Damnit... " the curse writhes between his teeth, bruised jaw grinding. his eyes linger, intense, at Yukari's hands as they work & he sits on the first floor of Tartarus; bones aching; staring as though in judgement ( even as he attempts to make himself as pliable to work with as possible. ) " Those annoying Maya did nothing but cast Zionga the whole damn time... "

a piece of Shinjiro recognizes that Yukari might be helping him in the first place because of this fact, but as it is not the one cussing wildly ( and he can't pretend he knows her all that well to begin with ), he elects to ignore it.

a well-worn sigh escapes him, gazing at the burns littering his hands & arms as the roughest parts that had to sustain the damage; melee be scorned, his axe like a lightning rod. it deepens into a light scowl, stare flicking to Yukari's face. it stays there a long few moments, before he speaks again.

" ... I'm lucky it's not bad enough to get Mitsuru in a twist about it, but you don't gotta do this, you know. " Shinjiro studies her, meticulous, which always ends up feeling like he's trying to scare you out of something when it was him doing it. maybe he was. " It's some burns. It'll heal fast. Besides, you were carrying my ass most of the way anyways. "

back in the building again :-//

mememeforrp​:

Send “I’ve got you” to help my muse wash off blood from their body

i redrew akihiko's all out attack screen for fun