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°   SPOOKY / AESTHETICS.   ⁞   ❪   aesthetics.   ❫

bloodied knuckles.   tear stained cheeks.   rust.   a busted lip.   claws.   fangs.   a bloody nose.   chattering teeth.   a dark space underneath the bed.   scratching noises on a wall.   creaking metal.   fog.   dancing under moonlight.   blood dropping lips.   heavy breathing in the dark.   a feeling of unexplained dread.   a figure in a dark corner.   dirty peeling wallpaper.   a bloody handprint on the wall.   sobbing in the dark.   bite marks on the skin.   eerie whispers.   a hood covering a stranger’s eyes.   the growl of a hidden animal.   the sound of a blade being sharpened.   a deep, dark forest.   walking on the streets alone at night.   a cobweb-filled, abandoned building.   eyes darting in paranoia.   a heavy beating pulse.   the feeling of being trapped.   struggling to get out a scream.   boards covering broken windows.   a quiet graveyard.   a gas station in the middle of nowhere.   a road that never ends.   heavy fog rolling in.   the scent of blood in the air.   eerie old photographs.   walking along train tracks at night.   a chill going up the spine.   gathering crows.   a dusty, dimly lit study.   mist over a deserted cobblestone street.   ghost towns.   shadows around a campfire.   the sound of chanting.   church bells tolling.   an orange harvest moon.   a broken down carnival.   a dirty stuffed animal abandoned.   wiping bloody hands on fabric.   nightmares.   waking up in a panic.   a power outage.   heavy lightning storms.   a secret trap door.   the feeling of being watched.   fear from trauma.   a ouija board set out on a table.   an eerie doll.   a scream of anguish and pain.   withered plants.   a room that’s been forgotten and gathered dust.   owl eyes in the dark.   curled, dead tree branches.   a ritual altar.   flickering candles.   a lantern held up in the dark.   fear of being followed.   creaking floorboards.   repressed, horrible memories.   clenched teeth.   soft, echoing piano keys.   an old book covered in dust.   many pairs of glaring eyes.   stumbling in pitch black darkness.   being stranded in the middle of nowhere.   tarot cards on a table.   a trail of blood.

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      “ It was a fuckin’ set-up, that’s why. ”

  PERSISTENT BASTARDS. Saruwatari chances a look back, eyes narrowing and mentally counting the one, two... four! Four police cars giving highspeed chase. He props himself up with his knees, attention diverting to the sunroof over their hands and momentarily contemplates on whether he should take a shot at throwing some shurikens at them. Though, given his lousy aim and needing some time to warm up-- he decides against it.

      ( ...Then again, it would be good practice. )

      “ Nao. I bet you knew about this already. You’re totally fucking with me, ain’tcha? Damn bast-- ” He finally turns to his supposed partner-in-crime and pauses midway. That’s... That’s not Nao. “ HAA?! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?! ”

[ @subnin​ // sc. ]

              “So, uh.” He’s oddly calm despite the blare of police sirens raising the dead behind them, blue and red and white flashing in his rearview mirror as Kakashi floors the gas as per the stranger’s polite request. The lights disappear when he manoeuvres around a sharp corner expertly, then another, and another – but Kakashi knows it’s not that easy to lose this particular tail. “Mind telling me why we’re running from the cops…?” 

               Never mind that, you know, he’s a cop too.

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If I am anything, it is violence.

Alejandra Pizarnik, from “[…] of the Silence,” Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962 - 1972 (via lifeinpoetry)

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°   OPEN / PLOTS.   ⁞   ❪   prompts.   ❫

SWIMMING LESSONS: Saruwatari can’t swim to save his life. So maybe, your muse offers to teach him ( for a price ). Or maybe, they’re right alongside him attending lessons for kids five-years-old and up. It all depends on your muse! Get ready to spend a whole week with an angry and red-faced Sarucchi because he can’t go on without his beloved kickboard.

ON DUTY: A simple bodyguard mission. Or two. Or three or four or as many as we want! Details can be discussed depending on your muse. And uh, this list could help us come out with something. Multiple threads could come out of this, so please... Bodyguard!Saruwatari.

GET OUT ME CAR: Saruwatari mistakes your car for Nao’s ( it’s dark, and they looked the same okay ) and he tells your ass ( and I quote: “GO, GO, GO-- JUST FUCKIN’ GO!” ) to drive and whoops, the two of you are now in a police chase. Good luck!

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°   NEGATIVE / TRAITS.   ⁞   ❪   headcanons.   ❫

aggressive.   callous.   cannibal.   careless.   compulsive.   cowardly.   domineering.   envious.   greedy.   hypocritical.   impatient.   impolite.   incompetent.   kidnapper.   lazy.   liar.   manipulative.   materialistic.   murderer.   obsessive.   overcritical.   overemotional.   patronizing.   sarcastic.   self-indulgent.   serial killer.   torturer.   touchy.   traitorous.   unclean.   unpredictable.   untidy.   vain.   vengeful.

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( @charredeyes )

“Well thank fuck you aren’t me, are you? Do your goddamn job and lead the way. If I wanted your opinion, I’d have asked for it.”

   SARUWATARI REALLY, REALLY HATED KIDS. He found them troublesome, insufferable, annoying pests who liked sticking their noses into businesses that were not their own. Case in point: the insolent runt in front of him. What greeted them up ahead was the aftermath of a bloodbath-- severed heads, torn limbs, and the pungent smell of death. It wasn’t his doing ( could have been his doing ), but he was a second too late. Saruwatari’s no saint. And he’s not that much of a cold-hearted bastard to let some fifteen or sixteen-year-old waltz into such a grotesque mess. 

       At least, not without a warning.

       “ ...Haa? You sure got a mouth on ya, you damn brat. It’s not my business-- ”  Not anymore.  “ --and it clearly ain’t yours either. Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m not gonna pat your back once you end up pukin’ your guts out. ”

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Hey! Same anon as before. Just wanted to let you know I decided to make a multi muse for htr ^.^ I still don't have icons so the blogs not done yet, but I am working on it!

me, viBRARTES EXCITEDLY

AAAA, I’m so glad you considered it!! And uh– I never asked which muses you’ve chosen?? Icons are very… tedious lmao. I haven’t even finished mine yet. But, GOOD LUCK!! Can’t wait to interact with you!

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I see! Thank you so much for answering me. I was surprised to see how small the community is. It's such a great anime I can't believe there's not more blogs. I'm still debating on if I'll make a blog or not. I'll probably end up making a multi muse blog since I honestly have so many muses from this show ^.^. No promises but it is a possibility!

No problem! I’m just glad to see another HTR fan!

Ah, I hear ya. I was hoping we’d get more as the anime continued airing, but now it’s over and we’re still! So small! But yeah, there are a lot of interesting characters and potential muses. I was debating between Enokida and Saruwatari before. Can’t blame you for not being able to choose just one lol. Do whatever makes you comfortable and is more fun!

Aaand if you do make one, let me know!!

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I was curious as to how many blogs are in the htr rp community? I've been thinking about maybe making an rp blog(s), but I haven't been able to find to much activity in the fandom, which is such a shame cause it's such a great anime. So I was curious how big and active its is.

Hey, anon!! AAAAH, I got so excited when I saw this–

So far, we’ve got a Lin ( @shoubupantsu ) and an Enokida ( @black-leg-nameko ) and me, which… is honestly not much lol. Be it within the RP community or the fandom as a whole, we’re a pretty small and unknown bunch. We’re really low on activity, and I’d say @shoubupantsu is the most active amongst us three. I do wish to be more active around here, but I’m still on the early stages of following blogs.

I know it’s small, but I do hope you consider joining us! Like you said, it’s such a great series and since you’ve only mentioned the anime, you should also check out the light novel translated by @/kaedesan721! But if you did already, that’s great!

Hope to see you soon!!

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—a memory of wind, by rachel swirsky

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°   CREPE / STAND.   ⁞   ❪   headcanon.   ❫

Be it near the baseball field or the batting cages or even his home-- there was always, always a crepe stand nearby. And if not a crepe stand, then it’d be a mini shop. Always ready, always prepared to serve him and his grandfather their sweet and savory pastries. The two were frequent customers, easily recognizable by the tone of their voices to the steps of their shoes. They were quite a pair, those two. Grandfather and grandson. Joined by the hip and sweating buckets. Some days were more tiring than others, shown by the quiet kid whose tip-top form was teetering left and right, beads of sweat trailing down his panting chest. Whites of his pants marred with a mixture of dirt and grass and his grandfather would look no different. Just as dirty, just as tired.

It’s different now though. Times has changed, bodies have grown much older, weary, with his innocence was stained red ( like the blood on his hands, under his nails, over his clothes and skin entailing success ). It’s different; he’s different.

But his love for crepes hasn’t changed. His intake is less than before, but it’s still there. He claims he’s watching his figure, something along the lines of it being not to good for his body.

Besides, it started off as a reward system of some sort. ( “Ten solid pitches in a row and I’ll treat ya to some crepes.” ) No less than ten, no more than ten. Results show in practice, and good practice shows in the number of times they stopped by for crepes.

What’s he got to practice for now? Nothing much. So he amps it up to one hundred. Sometimes it’s possible, most of the time he messes up by the sixties. No less than one hundred, no more than one hundred.

But this time he’s alone.

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°   BODY / LANGUAGE.   ⁞   ❪   headcanons.   ❫     Stolen from @shoubupantsu.

DEFENSIVENESS.

arms crossed on chest.   crossing legs.   fist-like gestures.   pointing index finger.   karate chops.   stiffening of shoulders.   tense posture.   curling of lip.   baring of teeth.

REFLECTIVE.

hand-to-face gestures.   head tilted.   stroking chin.   peering over glasses.   taking glasses off-- cleaning.   putting earpiece of glasses in mouth.   pipe smoker gestures.   putting hand to bridge of nose.   pursed lips.   knitted brows.

SUSPICION.

arms crossed.   sideways glance.   touching or rubbing nose.   rubbing eyes.   hands resting on weapon.   brows raising.   lips pressing into a thin line.   strict, unwavering eye contact.   wrinkling of nose.   narrowing eyes.

OPENESS / COOPERATION.

open hands.   upper body in sprinters position.   sitting on edge of chair.   hand-to-face gestures.   unbuttoned coat.   tilted head.   slacked shoulders.   droopy posture.   feet pointed outward.   palms flat and facing outward.

CONFIDENCE.

hands behind back.   hands on lapels of coat.   steepled hands.   baring teeth in a grin.   rolling shoulders.   tipping head back, but maintaining eye contact.   chest puffed up.   shoulders back.   arms folded just above navel.

INSECURITY / ANXIETY.

chewing pen or pencil.   rubbing thumb over opposite thumb.   biting fingernails.   hands in pockets.   elbow bent or closed gestures.   clearing throat.   “whew” sound.   picking or pinching flesh.   fidgeting in chair.   hand covering mouth whilst speaking.   poor eye contact.   tugging at pants whilst seated.   jingling money in pockets.   tugging at ear.   perspiring hands.   playing with hair.   swaying.   playing with pointer or marker.   smacking lips.   sighing.   rocking on balls of feet.   flexing fingers sporadically.   scratching back of neck.

FRUSTRATION.

short breaths.   “tsk” sounds.   tightly-clenched hands.   fist-like gestures.   pointing index fingers.   rubbing hand through hair.   rubbing back of neck.   snarling.   revealing teeth / grimacing.   sharp-eyes flowers with notable tension in brow.   shoulders back, heads up.   defensive posturing.   clenching of jaw.   grinding teeth.   nostrils flaring.   heavy exhales.

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°   FOOD / CRITIC.   ⁞   ❪   headcanon.   ❫

Saruwatari eats out a lot. As in, he hasn’t had a proper home-cooked meal in ages. Since his return to Fukuoka, he hasn’t been able to find a proper place to settle down in. He sticks to going from hotel to hotel, doesn’t really mind the expenses nor the constant packing and unpacking. He’s a hitman-- it comes with the job.

Given, he’s still technically new to Fukuoka after all these years-- he’s been slowly trying out all the restaurants and joints he can.

After doing so, he keeps a list of them on his phone. Rates them out of five stars and has them listed in alphabetical order ( for each 1-5 rating ). Saruwatari also jots down what he eats and critiques that too. If he didn’t like it before, why try it again?

So yeah, you can probably find him alone, stuffing his face somewhere around Fukuoka. Sometimes with Nao, but mostly alone. Just the way he likes it.

Despite his blunt nature, he won’t insult the food or anything like that in front of the staff-- like, he’ll make a face, yeah, but you won’t hear a peep out of him. It’s got nothing to do with manners, but more-so along the lines of worrying about them spitting in his food. And well, he’s making it a point to try out all the places in Fukuoka, and he can’t go around having a bad reputation. Word might get around, and people might not let him in their store because they’re afraid of him kicking up a storm.

Which, he will if they don’t let his ass in.

He’s also the type to leave anonymous reviews. Good or bad, he’ll write it all. Nothing too lengthy, he’ll keep it simple and straight to the point. Is it worth your time? Yes or no, and here’s why. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Also, he’s a really picky eater. Whatta child!

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That dumb face of your is getting damn cocky! That was uncalled for! I just saved your life!

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°   WRITER / AESTHETICS.   ⁞   ❪   aesthetics.   ❫

JOHN / KEATS.

the lavender in sunsets.   flowers in the rain.   sunlight slipping through clouds.   lazy summer afternoons.   the heavy scent of musk.   flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books.   fireflies on a cool summer night.   being wrapped in fresh bedsheets.   the ache of wanting what you can never have.   dripping sunlight like gold.   loving someone so exquisite.   soft lips and soft whispers.   fingers through hair.   names of lovers carved in trees.   broken glass.   the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

F. SCOTT / FITZGERALD.

mahogany wood.   crisp winter skies with cold bright stars.   the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog.   empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room.   pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness.   cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol.   a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered.   a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day.   the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment.   your favorite sweater.   parties spilling into four a.m.   with the stars above spinning and dancing.   the contrast of blood against snow.   a purple slit lip oozing blood.   black eyes fading to blue to pale skin.   the butterflies of falling in love for the first time.   the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries.   the romanticization of self-destruction.

FRANZ / KAFKA.

the weight of dread that sits heavily upon your stomach when thinking about the future.   decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there.   the way not even light can escape a black hole.   the rich smell of old books.   delicate veins in the wrist.   ghosts filling lungs.   shattered bones.   raindrops on the tongue.   rusting metal.   nostalgia that aches.   the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.

H.P / LOVECRAFT.

the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave.   pouring rain and mud.   a child’s fear of the dark.   thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never-ending ocean.   the silence of three a.m.   danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house.   the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain.   unexplainable phenomena.   strange lights in the sky in the dead of night.   ouija boards and urban legends.

JACK / KEROUAC.

the brisk pine air of being on a mountain.   travels without a destination.   those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory.   screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive.   coffee shops late at night.   car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark.   naps spent in the sun.   novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins.   the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders.   ignoring flaws and loving life.   wind through hair.   depression as fog in the brain.   impossible ideals.   a quiet sunrise.   walks alone.   when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe.   open lands stretching out into infinity.   falling in love with being alive.

EDGAR / ALLAN POE.

the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog.   hollow bones.   a preserved heart held in hands.   twinkling stars above an old graveyard.   the way everything turns to dust.   silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom.   self-inflicted flames.   perfection depicted as a rotting corpse.   death as bricks in the heart.   lips barely brushing against each other.   glassy glazed eyes.   biting into a lemon.   heart-shaped bruises.   rotting flowers on a grave.   dried blood on spilled liquor.   the hush of dusk when it begins raining.   the intimacy of secret.

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°   KICK / BOARD.   ⁞   ❪   headcanon.   ❫

Saruwatari can’t swim ( the guy got through swim class with a kickboard! ).

That’s it.

Somebody drown him.

Shove his ass into the water.

Enroll him into some type of swim class for noobs.

I will never let this go-- it’s actually kinda cute???