A Collection Of 60+ Starters Adapted From Season 1 Of Code Geass: Lelouch Of The Rebellion  /  change

chat, my cousin keeps bringing up my ex during family reunions, do i hit on his crush y/n

everytime you lie, your hat brim grows 2 inches 🙄

like pinocchio? that's a funny way to put it. does that make you the talking cricket?

did you really think this is the right thing to do ? ( @ geto w/ nagi and his soccer-based jujutsu that i haven’t fleshed out yet lets go 🙂‍↕️ )

‘ correctness is based on the whims of whoever stands at the top. usually, the strongest get to decide. ’ after all, it’s easy to fear things that one doesn’t understand.

that is how institutions are created.

that is how monsters are born.

suguru paces around the room, tatami creaking beneath the weight of each step. though nagi’s question would have garnered any other person a violent end, something about his words feels sincere in ways that suguru hadn’t seen since… well, since his last conversation with haibara. it makes him wary.

nagi seishiro is relaxed in ways he shouldn’t have been, languid when he should have been cautious. uncanny in his boldness, though not so far that suguru’s senses would call it a threat. suguru reasons it’s little wonder that nagi is loathed even amongst their allies, or the followers. the sound of his footsteps is obscured by the prayers coming from the other room. the smell of burning incense, of ashes; he wonders how longer he’ll be able to stand listening to their drifting voices before something in him collapses. 

suguru exhales a breath, watching nagi grow more comfortable in his position, bathed in the gentle midday light coming through the paper-thin walls. the look of innocence, treacherous in a way that he’s learned to discern.

‘ i can find a more creative way to pursue my goals, but i doubt it would be anything pretty, by anyone’s standards. uncooperative beasts are tamed. i don’t hope you understand what i intend with this. ’ the rational part of him knows that he should have ended this conversation before it even began - shouldn’t have humored this meeting in the first place. if he’d been anyone else. but when the bleary eyes of a newborn sorcerer look at him in that familiar way that he’d thought forgotten, impossible to mirror once more, suguru finds that can’t finish what he’s started.

he wonders if haibara - if anyone resents him for that.

these overlapping images are a headache. he lifts a hand, right from under his sleeve, signaling towards the open door. ‘ is that all you had to ask? you’ll have to forgive me, nagi. you see… i am a very busy man. ’

@trapshot

summer uncoils memories, a sleeping python and its gaping mouth hovering in the back of his mind.

it was hot back then, too, heat oozing off the concrete. white shirts sticking to their bodies, the deafening, mournful cry of the cicadas, hair that’s too damp and unruly to keep together. as his steps take him further into the mountain, these recollections cease to gnaw at him, the endless stream finally settling into something that he’s not quite sure can be called peaceful stillness or momentary subjugation: the knot in his stomach tells him it’s the latter.

suguru barely flinches when satoru’s shape comes to view, shadowed by the leaves moving like fish in the water. it only adds to the hermetic sensation that’s been following him since the first moment he sensed the familiar cursed energy roaming about. instinct is cyclical, a silent baring of teeth, ebbing away the closer his feet took him to where satoru stood unbothered.

bear it with dignity, right up until the reminiscence begins to touch the raw-edged remnants of feelings long expired. his voice is serene, divested of the practiced theatrics of a false deity, and perhaps the most sincere he’s ever been in the past months.

“ satoru! ” voice feather-like, it surprises him that every syllable tastes the same rolled around his tongue, easy as though time was nonexistent. each invisible stitch seeks to replicate the ease and form by which satoru knew him — his original imperfection, as suguru remembered it. it comes to naught. their features are sharper, their bodies taller, broader, and the scent of their cursed energy honed in a way that told suguru about the curses that lay crushed beneath satoru’s feet.

a sigh of relief, then, disguised by his relaxed posture. i suppose i don’t have to worry, we’re still on opposing sides. “ i’ll make a risky assumption and say that i’m not the target this time. what about the curse? have you squashed it yet?”

@infinitie

I. Can.

@cursedfell

murdering someone together as foreplay 

Based off my blog, what other characters could you see me Roleplay as?

The night drags on and yet, restless, Li Tianchen has found no sleep. Fresh emotional wounds haunt his mind. He rubs his eyes and frowns while scrolling further through his phone. His new phone. All ties were severed. He’s learned that life changes at a rate no one can prepare for. No one, except seemingly…

Tianchen lowers the screen and peers at his company. Liu Xiao. His childhood friend — perhaps the only friend he’s ever had — reads on the sofa opposite his chair, also awake. Tianchen doesn’t know what they both seem to be waiting for. Chances are, Liu Xiao has entirely different plans than he does with his fickle procrastination, anyway.

Setting his phone down on the armrest, Tianchen stares more prominently. Almost glaring. A moment passes; in a fit of impulse, he stands and moves to join Liu Xiao, side by side. Everything thereafter happens slowly, cautiously, like a stray animal’s approach. He leans closer so he can read the words on the page with a narrowed focus.

Is that… English? He recognizes bits and pieces, although his lessons were admittedly subpar. The way he snorts, amused, should let Liu Xiao know exactly what he wants to think of all this. Dorky. Weird. But despite that dismissal, he remains by Liu Xiao, trying to make sense of fragmented phrases. There must be a reason he is reading it, right?

❛ read . silently read a book alongside my muse . ( also hi, hello, you are no longer safe from me 🥺 )

a dispassionate read, if he’s ever seen any.

even if he’d waited, he doubted any interest beyond surface curiosity would maintain itself alight and sparkling in li tianchen’s mind. he imagined this is how it would be, from that moment where their paths merged and liu xiao’s space had soon been invaded by a surge of bright hues, contrasting his own dark shades. their opposing tastes regarding hobbies, the books they’d read, everything felt like a makeshift dreamland, and whoever’s dream this was, it certainly doesn’t feed liu xiao’s interest or keep li tianchen out of his boredom. 

“it’s a retelling of Theseus myth. you’ve probably heard of it before.” he pauses for a second, turns to face him for the first time, eyes sharp and dark above the rim of his glasses. a look of confusion - or possibly judgement towards his book choice, tell him better than prying would of li tianche’s most sincere thoughts.

and liu xiau laughs, like sand over rocks, dry, throaty. he waits for no response, “well, just part of it. i find it fascinating, that regardless of his glory, an epic hero is still cast aside and into the underworld. isn’t it ironic? that one’s name lives on through the ages, though he’ll never know it while he’s conscious and breathing. they say madness and glory are more alike than we think.”

mirth, wry cynicism, as though he’d seen much of the world and found himself wanting it entirely. he tries to keep it at bay, dormant, because there are better uses for this kind enrapturing confidence. li tianchen’s interest is piqued, or so he believes. liu xiao pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, closes the book with a light tud, “it’s subjective, that’s what i’m trying to say. fame is poison, some drink it, unknowing or not. either way, it’s bitter stuff, is what i think.”

“do you care to read it? i’ve already done it a couple of times. i can lend the book if you ask.”

@timeislikemusic

Kougino is aging like a fine wine