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ELLO PEOPLE!!! THIS is Kurohana. A role playing guild. I, TheUltimateTy, am NOT the leader of the guild. Fuyu Yuki is the leader. There will be an application sheet (Profile template) that you MUST fill out. Now, to the rules:
-No Godmodding
-No Hentai/Ecchi
-No bullying
-No Spam
- Profile template REQUIRED
-Have fuuuunnn~
-Permission needed to make an arc.
(Kurohana was previously a guild but was shut down. Fuyu was one of the members of that guild, so i helped her recreate it on a new planet)

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Hey guys, I know we died but my friend just started a new community and asked me to use my extremely good skills of convincing people to do stuff to ask you guys to take a look and join! Thanks and hoipe y'all are doing well behind that screen!

Greetings fam, it has been a while. :)

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"All that was created became, is and will be lost in the flow of time. However, the memories that we hold dear may stay with us forever."

Name: Caleum

Alias: Cale

Age: -

Sex: Ambiguous

Location of Birth: -

Birth Date: -


Guild Symbol: Centered at Spinal Cord, Large

Rank in Power: -

Occupations: Wanderer

Hobbies: Observing

Equipment: Void Pocket, Nagamaki, Kopesh Extended Partisan, Survival Knives, Chimes, Chains

Personality: Calm, Collected, Listener, Instantaneous, Saucy, Passionate

Interests: Universal Union

Distastes: Irrational Stubbornness

Relations: Faded

Strength(es): Experience, Passion, Adaptive

Weakness(es): A-Omni, Omni, etc

Romance: -

Partner: Passed


Abilities & Magic:

Detection: Sensory Amplification
Indomitable Spirit: Unbreakable Will
Conjuration: Conjures Objects From Energy
Energy Scattering: Dispelling Energy
Energy Infusion: Infuses Energy within an Object
Focus Affinity: Ultimate Concentration
Tranquil State: Able to remain calm at all times
Hyper-Instincts: Process the world in an optimal manner
Momentum Manipulation: Manipulates Momentum
Picnokinesis: Density Manipulation (Mass/Volume adjusting)
Gateway Generation: Creates Dimensional Gates
Dimensional Storage: A pocket void for item storage
Dimensional Independence: Not bound to a single dimensional plane
Key To the Door: Opener of new Gateways
Personal Spatiokinesis: Spatiokinesis applied to only Caleum's Person
Illusion Manipulation
ESP (Extra-Sensory Perception)
Standstill: Ageless


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My head hurts.
It’s not throbbing like a headache. But it’s something queer, something that just blocks my way of retrieving the information that was just on the tip of my tongue. Not even that feeling, because I am certain everyone feels that when they go to school and the teacher decides to call on them in class.
I should clarify. I know what to say, but I have no idea how to convey it. My character’s voice chatters in my head, but it’s not quite his, some strange element missing from his speech. The scenery just doesn’t seem right, the shades not mixing, the quiet chirp of crickets singing out of tune.
And why? Why her? No, certainly he couldn’t care about inferior people like her. And yet he bit his lip, tears brimming at the corner of his eyes, swallowing sobs that could not be heard. His arms cradled the girl who he saw as only a little girl, a little girl who had nothing to do with this cruel horror of life.
He forced himself to look away, his eyes darting anywhere, anywhere that wasn’t her. He refused to look at the gun, her pictures on the wall, the weeping dried on her lifeless face, the bullet wound fired into her head.
If it was up to him, he would go find whoever murdered her, would reach and run and stomp on their face and pull the trigger on that person. But how was that possible when the person who murdered her...was her?
He should have seen it coming, the way she stopped eating, the long trips to the washroom she made and the shallow breathing from her room. He felt his throat tighten, his voice constricting as he tried to mutter an apology. It was difficult to cover his pride and lower himself to the point of apology.
“Give her back...Just give her back to me.” He growled. His fists were clenched, his nails digging into his palms. If they were bleeding, he couldn’t see. The pink room was blurry, misty, occurred due to his lamenting tears. He wondered if he was thinking clearly as well, holding the gun to his head as well.
But his mind seemed to be the opposite of his eyes, his thoughts not quite what he’d normally believe, but still rather clear. Would she even want to live here? Would she even want-
Want what? What did she want? What was there that a dead person could ask for? Not to even mention a suicide victim. And for what reason? Why did she kill herself? Why would the guy blame himself?
I lean back in my computer chair and sigh. Papers are strewn everywhere, some filled with lines and senseless writing, others of doodles and comic strips of the characters, and some with one line that was scribbled out, then tossed away. In my spinny computer chair, I kick the side of the table, completing a 360-degree spin on my chair. The motion doesn’t help me. Nothing seems to be. I have isolated myself in my room, which is completely clean except for the papers strewn away. My sewing material is tossed into a nearby drawer. I have sat on my toilet with a wireless keyboard and stared aimlessly into the middle of nowhere for 30 minutes. I have attempted naps and hitting my head against the wall. I have attempted watching a few more seasons of Friends. I kid you not, I stripped and I still am half-naked on a computer chair.
The doors aren’t locked, but at this point, they probably couldn’t recognize me. On a normal basis, shapeshifting into someone or something else would clear my mind. It would usually only take a Sailor Jupiter cosplay to get me thinking clearly.
You name a character, and I have probably tried shapeshifting into them to clear my mind. Now, I’m going as the opposite of myself, a half-naked, shirtless, male, red-haired Akashi Seijuro.
Nothing helps me. I inhale and exhale long breaths, frustrated, just so frustrated that I can’t think of anything. My mind draws nothing but blank sheets of paper. I can write nothing but the crumpled papers strewn on the floor, rejects, ideas that no one needed to care about or continue.
Eventually, I get tired of sitting there and glaring at my computer screen. I get up, or at least I give a shot at it. My legs have cramped from sitting for so long. I end up tumbling on the floor, groaning as my elbow hits the floor. My eyes burn, so I take off my glasses and clean them, blinking a few times as I put them on. I remain on the ground for a few more seconds, sprawled on my stomach. Then I actually stand on my legs and stretch a bit.
I try turning into my normal form, but the second I do, my mind clouds over with nimbostratus clouds and a slight warning of a thunderstorm in my bromidic mind. I revert back into Akashi. My mind is much sharper. With false hope, I run back to my computer and sit myself down, my fingers poised over the keyboard.
And I just sit there, because whatever I was going to write has run away from the tips of my fingers. My foot taps impatiently as I press my left hand to my forehead, groaning. It’s much too silent in my room, I notice, so I maneuver myself towards my phone and start playing the Newsies Broadway soundtrack.
The voices and the music clash in a beautiful war, intervening, spiraling into chords and harmony. The tubas sing with the flutes and the piccolos, the clarinets and saxophones conversing with jazzy tunes, the trumpets with their bells out, proudly announcing their arrival. And the pianos and violins support them all, being what some people may call the “mom friend”.
I get so lost in the music i forget what I’m supposed to do. Then I realize that nothing has entered my head except for Newsies music and fog to add on to the strange floaty clouds in my head. I spit some swears under my breath.
Sliding my back down the wall, my fingers press the pause button as I sink down. I run my useless fingers through Akashi’s short, red hair. My eyes glaze across the room, my stomach growling as Akashi’s yellow and red orbs land on a box of instant noodles. I would love to eat, But I can’t. I stick to my vows: No instant noodles until you finish the chapter.
I force my pupils to move. They start gazing at the piano, a black finishing surface made of wood, keys that alternate between shades, longing for my fingers to produce sound instead of imagery.
Hell’s approval can be heard in my head. I swing my head to the piano and nod. “S’up. I’m assuming you’ve got some idea for me?”
The piano does not respond.
“Well then, fuck you.” I don’t exactly see it, but I hear the sound of Hell’s palm smacking his forehead. I’m not taking the piano suggestion seriously, of course. But before I know it, my legs have transferred to the piano bench, my fingers on the keys, my right foot prepared for pedaling. They await the conductor’s, my own, call.
I stroke a chord. It rings in the air. My vocal chords feel different, obviously because they aren’t mine, but Akashi’s, and I allow my voice to fill the air.
Let me go.
Far away.
Somewhere they won't ever find me, and tomorrow won't remind’ me of today.
And the city's finally sleepin'.
And the moon looks old and grey.
I get on a train that’s bound for Santa Fe.
I notice I’m playing a Newsies song again. And I hold back a slight sob, due to the emotions and the harmony and the melody just combining into something beautiful. It was something I could relate to because I just wanted to run and go and leave my story unfinished. I wanted to end the story with her death and his actions. I wanted him to remain a villain.
And I'm gone.
And I'm done.
No more running. No more lying.
No more fat old man denying me my pay.
Just a moon so big and yellow, it turns night right into day.
Dreams come true. Yeah they do. In Santa Fe.
The octave my voice is in goes higher. My chest feels heavier. Black strands of hair fall into my view. I don’t feel tears in my eyes, but my heart just breaks a little, a small piece falling into oblivion.
Why couldn’t we have a world like that? Why could we live in a place where no one tried to take our lives, where people who cared for you weren’t just fake, where there was no such thing as fame or false hope and lies and cliches?
If I died right now, how much would I regret? Who would care? What if I just held a gun to my head and fired, the last sight being through tears of a temporary problem?
Did I want to come back? Did I want to come back to what we call earth, or would I rather remain in Hell or purgatory?
Would she want to come back? If she saw how much he mourned and how much he cared? If he loosened some of that prideful demeanor, would she still be alive? I run to my computer and press my eager fingertips into the device.
Would she even want to be alive?
No, it was his fault that she ended up like this, lifeless and gone. She ran because she tried to fight. He swallowed the lump in his throat, but it never left, his throat still burning. He yearned for her presence once again. He longed to be with her.
The metal gun stole his view, just as it had stolen her life. This had to be the final item she held in her hand before she was killed. He could see her there, sobbing, sanity crumbling, despair rising and her hand holding tightly onto the handle.
And suddenly, a bang, and silence, and a thump. He let out a tortured scream as if her death was happening right in front of her. So the body still lay.
Would she even want him to be alive?
Why should he be alive? He had killed her, harassed her, and shot down every chance she tried to grasp for. The gun lay to the side. Her gentle grip lay to the side.
The gun was the last shot he had at seeing her again, to apologize then to enter hell forever. He pulled the gun to his head, and a loud bang echoed throughout the room, silence, then a thump.
It was almost ironic how he died at her hand.


Hey, I'm back ^^|| I know it's been awhile, but I do miss this place. I just wanna know who's back, so if you're here and want to rp again, just comment below!⬇️⬇️⬇️

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After a long journey that's filled with frustation, sadness and anger. Kaito arrived few years after back to the guild.

Kaito opens the door of the guild hall as the smell of the dust covered granit floor that used to get stepped by different kind of people. He walks slowing leaving his patterns on the dirty floor.

He doesn't bother yelling in the hall for the first place. Because he knows there is no one else in here. There is nobody else that will welcome him home. But still.

"I'm home."

He said quietly to himself.
Kaito sits at the bench that he used to eat chicken wings like always. His beard has grown all over his face. He just noticed how much time has it passed.

Miraak used to eat cheese over there. Then Shinobu would stitch her wound over here while Himelia would play with Fuyu and Kyerna. Tawan might hang around with Alex.

He smiles to himself.

There's no one else in here.


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Kaito: Don't mind me. I'm cleaning this place for a bit. You can keep scrolling. I don't give a fuck.

I fucking break my arm and take a leave of absence to come back to THIS?!?! WTF?!?! WHERE IS EVERYONE?! WHAT DO I DO?! WHERE DO I GO?! I DON'T EXACTLY HAVE ANYONE ELSE TO HANG OUT WITH
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