"You're Losing My Interest And That's Very Dangerous." Usami To Ogata

Six fanarts, No.2: Asa & Yoru

Geto look alike competition in my place tomorrow night

“It is just an illusion here on Earth that one moment follows another one, like beads on a string, and that once a moment is gone, it is gone forever.”

— Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

LX is just goth Gojo

while re-reading Tokyo ghoul manga to wipe dust off my yomo muse I remembered how much I loved this series 😭😭 honestly miss writing Tsukiyama too... That was forever ago, so I'm not sure if his muse is still alive but we'll see.

watch link click, we got the hat man

✨HE IS SO PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL✨

i'll only hurt you if you let me . / Uta @ Yomo

hurt, by definition, comes together with pain.

pain is familiar. pain is something that ghouls as species have known for longer than they’d remembered each other’s faces, what little they saw of them, when the masks were cast off. renji observes more than he speaks, notices the wounds and torn skin already patching itself together in a gruesome display of rank: back then, they’d been considered a dangerous threat to the CCG, or to the general public. 

humans. ordinary humans whose bodies broke and didn’t mend. 

bodies that did nothing similar to what uta’s system is beginning to try, under the influence of whatever it is that kept that clownish smile plastered on his face. excitement? seems likely.

he waits until the open tissue is all healed, black ink molten across a pale canvas. there’s a revelation in the way uta’s eyes reflect the dim moonlight. fluorescent signs sprout from the tall buildings, further narrowing the already reduced space in this back alley, cascading them in bright hues and deep contrasts, their shapes a pair of protruding anachronisms in the urban landscape. 

this privacy - the pause that follows feels loud enough to drown everything else: noise of artillery, debris moved around and across the asphalt, disaster and what comes with chaos. even the rattling heartbeat in his ribcage which hadn’t ceased to plague him since they first laid their fists onto each other sinks deep into oblivion. he picks up where uta left off, his voice returning to its usual listless baritone, “it won’t be pleasant, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

there’s childish amusement in this, in the thrills uta seeks. he’s never understood it, always drawing a blank when he tried to sympathize with it. what he knows, however, is rage. he’d tasted it on the roof of his mouth, even now, if he searched long for it. on the cusp of an old era, only uta and, perhaps itori, were unburdened by it, his baggage, his vengeful appetite. 

they’d cannibalized, and they’d probably done so much worse, sins that follow them each to the grave - but it’s not all there is to it. not all there is to uta and him. perhaps he simply wants to drain it all dry: his options, the reasoning, any word that can keep his friend from self-immolation. renji paces closer. 

“aren’t you cold?” he doesn’t know if uta misses him. renji’s never asked. part of him, a shallow part, believes that uta’s unselfconsciousness is indicator enough that he’d do well no matter renji’s stance in his circle. another part - a more selfish, boyish part that hadn’t entirely died out since their rooftoof talks, had mistaken these jabs and mockery for fondness, of a kind. so it often went. he exhales through his nostrils, sharp breeze cutting through loose strands of white hair. the scent of rain, drying blood, this; it’s all a grim reminder that anything could’ve gone wrong, had he not been sincere from the start.

“do you remember” renji asks, “the first time we met? it wasn’t much different than how we are now.” normally, teens outgrow their fixations. renji doesn’t think uta has dropped it entirely, but it’s still difficult to figure him out in a way that won’t piss renji off. even now, he feels annoyed. there’s time for the two of them to try and hurt the other. that entirely depends on how well uta fares from here on. a creature of terrible potential. renji lowers his knees until they’re touching the ground, hooks uta’s arm around his shoulder, working as an achor, and eases him back to his feet, eye to eye, just like it’d been a decade or so ago. 

“it was like this, too.” his lip twitches, the birth of a smile, one that he’d thought long lost. “you can walk, let’s go.”

@antinomos

he said, with bad intentions

‘ no particular reason, just curiosity. ’

on the unlikely scenario that she might’ve been afraid of something, maybe the conversation could’ve led them elsewhere, a place emptied of walls and labyrinths. that was a possibility that the childish part of him wanted to test, a dive into uncharted territory, though the rewards were little in comparison to what had been stirred now, as her soul burned with curiosity and he wondered if it was born from the same star as his. two specks of the same stardust, finally facing each other in the expanse of nothingness.

satoru muses for a moment, voice rumbling in his throat as he leans back in thought. perhaps he ought to give an honest answer. a truth for a truth. ‘ never thought about it, actually. ever watched Shutter? pretty scary if you ask me. i couldn’t sleep that night. ’

not a lie.

nightmares carved out of memories, the unholy mixture of reality and the imaginary specters born from night’s belly, their unchanging shapes stalking about satoru’s dark room. the ache in the back of his eyelids remained until dawn, most nights. others, he simply let the mud engulf him, falling into quicksand, and it felt more comforting than to fight it, because its weight and density was familiar by now. seeing it reflected in a film caught him by surprise — though the graphics were nothing to write home about, the idea of death and regret and all the ugly things clawing their way into the very soul frightened him. more than strange panic, anger seeped through the cracks, the carefully maintained mask of imperturbable capacity.

that is how the head of a clan should be.

well, if suguru ever came back to haunt him, wouldn’t that be petty? it’s a hard scenario to conjure, but the idea amuses him briefly. satoru sips idly at his drink, suddenly too aware of his own surroundings. propping his head up on a fist, elbow atop his knee, he takes notice of her change in positions, now closer, side by side. 

‘ hm. you’ve never been curious about me, though. what made you change your mind? want to be besties? i’m sure that would give the old farts real fright. no need to ask them. ’

@einshi's   gojo   satoru   &   the   fate

                    𝘯𝘰𝘵   𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥   𝘰𝘧   𝘵𝘩𝘦   𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦   𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘰   𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵   𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥   getting   rid   of   all   the   humans   &   sorcerers   who   fought   against   him,   not   afraid   of   the   greatest   curse   user   since   gods   only   know   when.   not   afraid   of   the   strongest   sorcerer   by   her   side,   not   afraid   of   the   old   small   -   minded   people   who   stand   behind   the   whole   grand   scheme   of   jujutsu   society   things.

                    like   she's   playing   a   game   of   her   own   ;   like   all   this   doesn't   revolve   around   her,   too.   like   her   life   is   not   on   the   line,   like   she's   not   literally   in   the   middle   of   it   all   —   an   upcoming   war   that   threatens   her   in   her   restless   dreams.   puzzle   pieces   she   cannot   yet   fully   put   together,   so   she   doesn't   say   much   about   what   she   sees.

                    neither   can   she   see   the   smile   gojo   so   generously   offers.

                    sadly.

                    she   would   really   like   to.

                    ❝   oh,   i   can   pay   you,   ❞   unmei   muses,   getting   up   from   her   spot   beside   him   ;   looking   at   all   the   snacks   in   the   vending   machine.   all   the   lights   blocked   by   the   blindfold,   all   the   shades   blocked   by   color   blindness.   in   a   way,   they   both   see   too   much   and   not   enough.   ❝   sweet   treat?   ❞

                    that   usually   works,   stimulates   the   brain   —   sugar   turns   into   energy   their   brain   consumes   in   milliseconds   ;   fuels   the   endless   amount   of   information   processed.   besides,   satoru   has   a   sweet   tooth,   and   more   than   likely   won't   see   her   spitting   onto   said   free little   gift.

                    pun   intended.   height,   prosopagnosia,   blindfold.   depth   of   what   he   says,   so   many   levels   of   it.   seemingly,   every   conversation   they   have   means   something   else   ;   subtext,   context,   all   of   it   combined   to   create   a   different   meaning.   as   she   sits   back   beside   satoru,   mei   wonders   :   is   the   infinity   of   his   shielding   him   from   the   outside   world,   or   shielding   the   outside   world   from   him?   won't   ask   out   loud.   will   find   out   herself.

                    ❝   now   i   want   to   know   what   are   you   afraid   of,   senpai.   ❞

                    she   assumes   there   is   something.   there   must   be.

                    ❝   and   why   did   you   ask   me   about   that   in   the   first   place.   ❞