“i Believe That You Will Find Out Soon Enough.” If The Little Mice Scrambling Around The Main Building

YOU

@jxlter

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

ordered a horror stories book online and it made me think that Geto doesn't have a favorite genre to read, he will read any book that piques his curiosity and finishes it whether he likes its contents or not, because he just has to finish what he started. it's after his deflection that he begins to be more selective of what he reads, completely discarding books that are popular among non-sorcerers, finding it annoying to have something in common with them as he continously tries to draw the line that separates them, a constant reminder of the position he chose to be in and to avoid any notion of sympathy born from their linked interest.

‘ 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.   ❞

Psycho-Pass

rewatching the last ep of s1 because i was trying to find vein / red eyes hints in the scenes where red eyes is present and remembering how liu min is liu xiao’s older brother— i just know that when the two hung out, liu min had to be like “how’s my bitchless bro” seeing that guy take out a fucking shakespeare book at the dining table

Do what you think is right.

u know what screw it i’ll send more recommendations — i can see you being super good with choso too!!! and i also will suggest nanami just bc you dive so well into charas, i can see you playing his tired overworked self but i did see you showed interest in higuruma so !!!!! u should try him too!

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

SHAKES YOU

Omg okay yall have convinced me, I will add Nanami to my muse list, it's so over for everyone

Also I've actually written choso before but only as a discord rp and higuruma.... He would be interesting to write omg I love cynical men going thru it. Will definitely evaluate if the muse sticks 👀

❛ You cannot know how frightened gods are of pain. There is nothing more foreign to them, and so nothing they ache more deeply to see. ❜ pspsp from gojo

@chipen // BOOK STARTERS VOL.56    CIRCE    MADELINE MILLER

his eyes travel across the mountains on the other side of the glass, the wagons rattling with their metallic sound as the city retreats and disappears in the corner. rarely does satoru follow, busy as he is on solo missions, so between the growing mountain of curses disposed by his hand and perfection of his reverse cursed technique, there’s hardly any chance for their paths to cross for longer than a brief glance or a good morning, have you eaten? wave.

satoru’s voice lures him in and out of his thoughts.

frightened. i don’t think i’ve ever seen you truly scared. he doesn’t say.

‘ hah, isn’t that funny to hear. you’re a half-god yourself. ’ prodding at his ego is easier, so he goes for that, masking the tiredness weighing down his shoulders with a low chuckle, voice gone soft, ‘ …going in headfirst does little to keep pain at bay, that much is obvious. you don’t seem all that affected by it - the pain. might be part of being made of halfsies. ’

suguru finds the irony amusing, a sort of innocent arrogance that never fails to paint a smile on his face as he listens to satoru ramble on. this time, though, it leaves a bitter aftertaste. it’s partly distance — the division that separates a god from human, strength from anything broken —, the other bigger part is despondence and it’s getting harder to hide it behind the illusion of a fox-like smile. some days, his muscles don’t follow, frozen into an expression that he can hardly call indifference because the embers of something akin to anger linger.

this time it spills, briefly, not enough to stain the room but just enough to rekindle the conversation, words rasp like sandpaper, ‘ what does it take to make you into a God, then? the fear, having something that scares you to death, or wanting it more than anything else? you don’t have to answer, i’m just wondering. ’

Gojo's up to date with trendy songs and more often than not you'll find him listening to female singers. Rip gojo you would've loved APT