—幽霊 on AniRoleplay.com - www.aniroleplay.com/akio —幽霊

33 years old

Last Login:
August 11 2021

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   —幽霊's Albums
,, others 駅ユ科  (5  photos)
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    —幽霊's Interests
, ,

⎝ - Due to his easily swayed conscious to help the little guy [and the ever growing pit in his wallet], the detective is notorious for taking any case that comes his way. Not only that, but his girlfriend always barks at him to try and do the right thing.

⎝ - On that same topic, he is much more notorious for his unorthodox methods of solving them. Breaking the law to make a bust is just one of many offenses the detective has littering his record. Others include several nights in the tank, breaking and entering, theft, harassment, and forgery.

⎝ - While most would likely consider him a high-functioning alcoholic, Yuu insists he just knows how to A. have a good time and B. unwind after a long, hard day in the office.

⎝ - Despite the connotation, the real reason that Yuuichi is referred to as "stray dog" is not from some conquest, but instead the spiteful, loud mouth of his good partner-in-crime.

     —幽霊's Details
Body type:Slim / Slender
Ethnicity:No Answer
Characters: akio , yuuichi
Verses: crime / yakuza / neo-noir
Playbys: 彼らは彼がレヴァナントだと言います
Member Since:February 24, 2021

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—幽霊's Latest Blog Post  [Subscribe to this Blog]

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   —幽霊's Blurbs
About me:

/ partnered with "tanuki" chiharu
// removed from the shawn o'hennesy case
/// investigating "glass castle"

yeah, yeah. I'll add more, ok? geez. just give me a minute.

Who I'd like to meet:

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Ƙєу HσƖɗєя

—幽霊's Friends Comments
Displaying 10 of 41 comments (View All | Add Comment)

Jul 1st 2021 - 3:27 PM

F*** off. . .” The sentiment undoubtedly doesn’t reach the dipsh*t’s ears, but that doesn’t make it any less cathartic.

Drool leeches from the corner of her mouth, puddling on the cushion of a ratty, thrifted couch. Sorry — ratty, vintage daybed. 

Who knows when she dozed. Her eyes are little more than slits, wincing in the wake of whatever mix of fog and waning sunset lingers on the other side of a cracked window. Judging by the light (and the incessant honking), it’s probably right around the time she should actually get up.

God. If there’s anything he’s good for, it's being her nuisant alarm clock.

There’s a bottle rolling from her feet when she stands — an indicator of either a day spent laughing in the face of sobriety, or numbing her inhibitions. Without another warm body to grace her studio, this case is about as open and shut as they get.

Yesterday’s makeup becomes today’s face. A touch-up of her wings here, a quick spray of dry shampoo there, and she’s looking downright lethal in this bodyline get-up.

No amount of concealer can hide the fact that she drifted at some point between her text and now, but it’s not like Aika ever gives a sh*t anyway. The door of his hunk of scrap metal slams shut behind her, freeing the artist from the downpour in exchange for a much worse sentence.

“Relax on the horn, will ya’? I told you I was coming right down.” Curious hands dig into his console, scrounging around until she finds a pack. Jackpot.

A cigarette fitting between her lips, her stress melts into her vice. “So, who’s the target this time? Some old money in a suit? Sleazebag drug dealer?”
⸻ the ghost of last calls

Jul 1st 2021 - 3:07 PM

Honest. . . riiiight.

“Uh—yeah. Of course.” It’s automatic and followed by a ceremonious nod. Does blatant, calculated omission fall under the umbrella of honesty? Probably not, but what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.

She scurries close behind her mentor, shuffling inside a box with little room and even less air than she has ever been a fan of. One finger hooks onto the collar of her button-up, as if the motion will provide the freedom she needs. Ultimately, it does nothing. She settles for a quick sip of her coffee to break the stifling atmosphere.

Time to make things just marginally more uncomfortable for our young rookie.

“So, umn—” Light scans her skin as it filters through the crack between two slabs of metal, seconds ticking in tune with the floors they conquer.

“Chief didn’t really fill me in on the details of. . . well, anything for this case. Who, or what, are we after here?” The gates of heaven part, open arms coming in the shape of that fresh lobby air.

Finally, she can b r e a t h e.

Jun 20th 2021 - 9:58 PM


Jun 20th 2021 - 8:36 PM

"Breakfast?!" You'd never know such a simple word to carry so much disbelief. Whether it's the saké or the audacity that's got her shouting, who knows, but Chiharu's voice cuts clear into the evening air for all to hear and their ears to ring along with it. 

"Geez. Don't get any ideas, senpai. Let's just say. . .  winner takes 5,000!"

A merry treat turned competition, this is what she lives for. She thrives in the melody of another challenge, another chance to prove her beat carries to the tune of anything and anyone who dares to claim they can best her at anything.

Steam effuses from a bowl larger than her own head, but the scent it carries only invigorates her.

Even in her growing stupor, strategy dares not betray this rookie. First, whet the appetite with a cold drink, a preemptive elixer to mellow the boiling broth before it has a chance to slow her down. Then, when the noodles lay bare without their pool to protect them, she'll shovel 'em in with the grace of a queen. Perhaps not the most sanctimonious way to eat ramen, but it's bound to be effective.

With a plan like this, how could anything go wrong?

Her chopsticks separate with little ease, only to settle to her left while both hands grip the sides of her bowl in preparation. "Ready? Aaaaand, go!"


Jun 20th 2021 - 7:53 PM



Jun 11th 2021 - 11:09 AM

Shh. If you listen really closely, you can hear the shattered dreams of a woman who’s just trying her damn hardest.

Stomach drop. The ride has begun, and where this downward spiral ends, no one knows.

Much like any strategic stance, it’s all about the footing. Chiharu hangs back about three paces in hopes of hiding her shame deftly within the creases of his jacket. Her poker face may be as good as any, but only a fool would underestimate the intelligence of a new opponent.

“O-oh, well the thing is—”, there’s a stutter eating her alive — from her lips, right down to the rigid traipse of her feet. Her heart may actually leap right out of her mouth if she doesn’t craft the perfect excuse for her shortcomings.

This should be easy. Just tell him the truth! Exactly what the barista said, they didn’t have any skinny moc—


Then, like the full brunt of a winter storm, it hits her.
[ & oh, how the truth will undoubtedly set you free. ]

Her lips press together until they’ve all but vanished beneath the weight of her own displeasure. How could she have been so naive, so blind to what her desperation has done to her? Eyes dead as they’ve ever been, her disposition shifts, and her feet plant themselves firmly in place.

This whole thing was a setup. A test.

“There’s no such thing as skinny mocha, is there?” Not really a question, but a statement of fact.

Jun 10th 2021 - 2:29 PM

Under normal circumstances, she’d thoroughly indulge in the ambiance. A fresh grind wafts in the air, blooming coffee threading tendrils of cacao and whatever-else-that-is through a room so cozy and so very decadent. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t be pacing by the counter and habitually checking her watch with frantic, shaking eyes — eyes not too unlike your friendly neighborhood junkie.

Well, first-case jitters are one hell of a drug.

“Yes! That’s me!”

“I’ve got one tall vanilla latte aaand. . .” The barista turns the cup, reading off a computer-generated label. “One venti matcha frappuccino, no classic or base sweetener, double cream, soy to the second line, one scoop chai, one pump mocha, with extra ice?”

Chi’s following along on the crumpled piece of paper in her hand, straining to translate her new partner’s chicken scratch as the poor girl speaks. She nods with every customization checked off of the list, all except—

Pure, unadulterated devastation glances up toward the barista. “Wait. Is that one pump of SKINNY mocha?”

Timid is her response, “We. . . only carry full-sugar mocha syrup, miss. I’m afraid we’ve never had skinny mocha.”

Oh. Oh, no. This can’t be happening.

Barring the unforeseen wrench in her plan, the latest addition to their division is right on time for her shift — bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and champing at the bit. It’s a damn good thing she left her apartment with ample time to spare, should the day throw its worst at her. Hope for the best, but always prepare for the worst.

Lo and behold, through the slats of the largest glass-paned room, the intended recipient of one of these drinks is chatting with the chief. Here we go. Her hip presses against the last door in her way, wood creaking minimally as she snakes herself inside of the office.

“Well, speak of the devil. There she is! Impeccable timing, Tanaka. We were just discussing your first case.” Chief’s voice rolls like an aged barrel. Robust and teeming with imbibed confidence.

She doesn’t leave even a moment to breathe before she’s bending properly at the waist in response, nearly tipping the drinks pre-occupying her hands in the process. Sh*t.

“Good morning, Chief, Detective Akio! I, uh—” One hand extends, a saccharine hope to be in her partner’s good graces. First impressions mean everything, after all. “Here’s your coffee. Nice and. . . cold.”

Does she tell him about the kerfuffle at the coffee shop? Will he even notice?

Does she dare expose her incompetence in managing to do this one simple task without a hitch?

Hell no.

May 1st 2021 - 12:20 AM

Daily reminder: I love you. ♥

Apr 22nd 2021 - 4:27 PM

Where's my birthday kiss?

Apr 16th 2021 - 2:53 PM

Chthonic entity isn't convinced, the other's answer doing little to persuade him. At least, that's what he wanted him to think.

"What do you mean you don't know? What kind of detective doesn't know the answer to things?"

He was f***ing with him and this exchange amused him greatly. Despite the attempt at being rude, the incubus remained unfazed, smug expression permanently etched upon his features. 

"How's about you buy me some grub and we can talk it over? I might be able to remember something. No promises though, bucko."
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