Name: Miki / Venice Age: Too old for my liking Gender: Femme fatale
Food: Curry and Aglio Olio pasta Drink: Green or Red tea (with quite the shitton of sugar) Book: A Shite History of Nearly Everything by A. Parody (for now, anyway)
Author: Andrew Hussie… … Song: Boss Ass Bitch, Queen Bitch, Primadonna Girl and Hard Out Here
Movie: Pacific Rim. Forever and always. TV Show: Leverage (///w\\) Band: UVERworld and ThePianoGuys Solo Artist: LINDSEY STIRLING, Lauren Aquilina Place: Kuala Lumpur, Penang, Langkawi; Malaysia and Venice; Italy
School Subject: Literature in English Sport: Thinking and maybe socializing Actor: Tom Hiddleston Actress: Lucy Liu or Ming-Na Wen basically
Best Friends: Not a long list really, RL or online. Boyfriend/Girlfriend: Allen Walker and Lenalee Lee Siblings: My 7 y/o sister who makes Adventure Time references w/ me
Dream Job: Hitman or just something illegal where I’ll be paid high and die young. (I have other more sane choices, of course, but still.) Tattoos: None yet. Piercings: Nope. Language(s): Mandarin Chinese, English, Malay and a few other local dialects of Chinese Twitter: Unactive and forgotten.
Reason Behind URL: Idiot multilingual redhead life-ruiner boy ;;; Reason Behind Icon: I wanted to draw hot Lavis you caught me Why you joined: I first joined tumblr to catch up with an artist I admired. First URL: mikiko-likeaboss (still active personal, but barely) Number of Blogs: Uh, wait, lemme count… 5? 8 if we’re counting hoarded URLs.
but what if during his three months on the run, allen started having nightmares dreams of kanda’s memories.
i mean, wisely’s mind-meld shitfest dragged him in deep; deep enough that he very nearly had a meltdown and road had to practically yank him back up by his toes. he was whiplashed through stark unfiltered memory (two layers of it if we count the brief blurring with alma’s memory) that no one ever should have been able to touch. like don’t tell me chunks of it didn’t stick to him when he came out the other side.
sometimes, when he jolted awake in that freefalling void you’re in after a too-vivid dream, he swore he could feel the laughter, or the blood, or the freezing stone floor, he felt the word “freak” crash between his teeth
and sometimes he’d be walking down the street or resting on the train and it would hit him like a brick because dammit, he was in too deep.
maybe he tried so hard to push them away because please no, for god’s sake these things should be remembered but not like this. and then he finally sees kanda again and it all comes rushing back (and contributes to that look he’s got on his face when kanda’s back is turned in 210).
Chilled, crisp morning air did nothing to cover up the underlying stench of death drenching the atmosphere. It was not a scent one would want to grow accustomed to, yet the white-haired teen standing in midst of the mist had no difficulties distinguishing it despite the fact that it was no longer fresh.
Confusion shook his mind to the core as he stared down at his shaking hands - his left soaked and dripping blood and his right speckled with dark red drenching the light fabric, white too vibrant and fake next to the wet patches.
who the fuck cares if you have -9 drawing skills. draw anyway. draw your ocs. draw other people’s ocs. can’t draw hands? FUCK IT. DRAW TENTACLES. can’t draw the other eye? DRAW PROFILES INSTEAD. DRAW A CYCLOPS.DRAW BANGS. IDFK MAN BUT JUST FUCKING DRAW
i agree with ur headcanon completely she loves her fricking legs so why not show them the frick off what a stylish cutie uwu she starts having to leave the house with track pants over her shorts because her bro flips his shit about it aw man ;v;
yeeessssssss but omg can u imagine if like kanda drives her to school or something so one morning she gets in his car and everythings goin fine but then when they’re almost to the school lenalee just starts tAKING OFF HER FUCKING PANTS AND KANDA STARTS FREAKING OUT LIKE “YO WTF R U DOING” BUt she has her shorts on underneath and he just lets out the most relieved sigh to ever be sighed
I’M SORRY I NEED THIS ON MY BLOG BECAUSE IT IS GREAT ;v;
i love my friends so much like it’s probably dumb to get that worked up over it but i am constantly amazed by what wonderful people they are and how much happier i am when i’m around them. and like. i feel the need to inform the world and universe. because going to them out of the blue like “i love you so much” would probably be creepy. i just need to say. i love them. i love my friends. my friends are great. great friends. amazing friends
that i am totally, 100% not fucking okay with lavi bookman and his problems like wtf he can’t be happy because he has to record history, not make friends and he’s a failure as a bookman because he cares
In order to make it possible for RPers with muses whose first language isn’t English to enrich their RP threads with words and phrases in their native tongue, I have set up a Multilingual DGM RPers Masterlist (please read that page if you want to help!) that will enable you to easily find people willing to help you out with translations!
The goal of this list is to not only enhance our RP threads with accurate phrases in the native tongue of our muses, but also to take away the fear that us multilingual RPers would be bothered by being asked for a translation. Maybe it will even spark new interactions between RPers and help us form new friendships!
In short, I want to help out with your use of language, I want to form new bonds, and I want to see beautiful RP threads improved even further with foreign phrases weaved neatly into the writing.
Now, enough of my rambling, let me get to the point:
If you are a multilingual RPer from the DGM fandom willing to help with this project, please reblog this post and tag it with the languages you can translate to - you will be added to the list!
If you are not able to help with translations but want to signal boost this post, feel free to reblog this but take care to mention in the tags that you are signal boosting!
people (and things) you have not mentioned in your coffeeshop au
the actor who comes in and wants to chat for hours about waiting for godot, saying things like “it really illuminates the inherent despair of the human condition! very, very inspiring, really. quite harrowing.”***
the man who comes in with a recipe for mixed, ground beans that is accurate to three decimal places. (your scales only measure to two places. the recipe is indecipherable.)
the small child who uses every single coffee sack as a punching bag
the two dancers who take it upon themselves to play with every single drygoodin the shop and then, after thirty minutes of phone conversation, order one green tea latte (“do you not have almond milk? oh, what the hell, let’s live a little”)
the office workers who drew the short straw and have been sent out for eighteen orders of hot chocolate, all customized
the man who wants to unpack and try every single coffee grinder, and also can you show me that electric kettle! how does it work! oooh, that’s a nice grinder. is burr really better than - what’s the other kind again? and what about those teapots in the back?
the man who brings his own espresso mug
the man who doesn’t understand why you haven’t memorized his special yet, seriously, it’s been a whole day!
your coworker, who has been flavoring beans and now smells like an excoriating mixture of hazelnut, vanilla, pumpkin spice, and eggnog
your other coworker, who sees a Difficult Customer approaching and flees to the back room like a fucking bullet, apologizing all the while
your other coworker, who is in charge of the playlist and has to run to skip every other song because it contains 1) excessive drumming 2) excessive maudlin guitar 3) excessive use of the word “motherfucker” 4) is titled “starfuckers”
your boss’s unofficially adopted son, who comes in to get in the way and make coffee at a different time every single day, enters via the front door, disappears mysteriously at some point in the next hour, and apparently exits via the basement gates
the entire firehouse, who come in (collectively) at the same time as the entire local police station, are indistinguishably tall, and all want very different drinks
the customer who comes in five minutes before closing, when you’ve swept all the grinder stations, and orders fifteen pounds of coffee. “ground for paper, please.”
the customer who leads with the deceptively simple “oh, i’ll just have a…” and spends the next ten minutes describing exactly how they want their extra-hot triple-shot half-skim half-whole milk mochaccino with an extra shot of caramel, double cups, flat top, and can you make those shots tall please? and not so much foam. what do you mean that’s what a mochaccino is? can’t you just make a mocha? what do you mean a cafe mocha or a mochaccino? just a moccha! and a macchiato. wait, what do you mean that’s just an espresso shot with milk foam. they don’t do it like that at starbucks. oh. oh, okay. well, just the mochaccino then. thanks. (and then doesn’t tip. usually appears when there’s a line all the way to the door.)
your clothes, which will smell like coffee for the next three years
the apple cider steamer wand, which your other other coworker keeps leaving out to the side so you have a semipermanent burn because you keep hitting it when you pull shots
the time a dozen cartons of milk mysteriously go bad and you only find out after you add them to coffee
in keeping with that, the time you have to throw out a dozen consecutive cups of coffee, full of clumpy milk
the time you nearly knock over an empty espresso cup and, in a bid to save it, throw sixteen ounces of coffee in the air instead
the time the drip machine overflows. (rinse and repeat weekly.)
all the different ways you can pronounce “hazelnut”. language is a wonderful thing.
"what’s a fluffy angel?" me too, customer. me too.
***(not chris pine, but with definite ambitions in that direction)