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//; me to me in a whisper: u will not make the ultimate linguist. You will n o t.
me: but,,, linguists-
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//; why do i have such a problem with roleplaying a girl
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@-gentlestrings //; kohaku: touch my corpse, and i smash your face in with your own violin :^)
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//; yes.
He’s dead.
You did this.
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@-gentlestrings //; kohaku: a h h h h h -
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@-gentlestrings //; kohaku: do not- :))))
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//; unholy screeching-
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//; my old boi oc is practically abandoned lol. Rip.
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“I DIDN’T start this conversation, you drunken idiot,” Kohaku grumbled, rubbing his temples, narrowing his eyes as Miyoshi walked closer. “The hell do you want?” He snapped, taking a step back. “Go pass out somewhere else. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.”
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Kohaku plastered a false smile on his face, taking a few steps back. “That sounds like your problem, hm?”
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“Non-existent. That’s what it is,” Kohaku sighed, rubbing her temples.
‘Ahh...I don’t feel like dealing with this today...Should I dump her on a doorstep somewhere...?’
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Kohaku blinked once...Twice...He sighed in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘And I can barely stand her when she’s sober...’
“You idiot. How the hell did you even get drunk?”
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"Killing pige-" Kohaku repeated, shaking his head to himself. "Well, I mean- Maybe- Mazaki, are you drunk?"