Ni Hao Fine Shyt

thinking about this again

not me getting notifs that you rbed our thread thinking i was getting more tojisugu content........

Worry not I will make tojisugu real even if it's the last thing I do before collapsing on the floor, geto will get his birthday death today @inverteds

❝  when there is greed, there is hope.  ❞ ( from manami <3 )

‘ men who live by the waterfall cease to hear it, ever heard of that phrase? ’ is what he offers, fingers idly skimming through the pages.

the monthly statements are a formality, mostly managed internally. numbers tell no lies — numbers are exact, constant, always true to what they represent, unlike the humans that arrange them in fine paper and leather folders. suguru gives a last glance at the paper and turns his attention back to her, ‘perhaps i’ve got playing the pious deity to these monkeys down to a fine art so well that i no longer hear them complaining about their diminishing shares. ’

the view outside is painted in dull oranges, perfectly content with being swallowed by the quick-spilling dark of the night. there’s always been a mean air about her, too. as if cut by the same razor, their sharp edges complemented each other in funny ways. the carpet snaps shut in his hand, back pressed lightly against the windowsill.

‘ well, diminishing is too generous. they weren’t getting any more than what they deserved as creatures at the bottom of the food chain. scavengers like them did always make for greedy little things, and this cult is run precisely because their ambitious bellies are filled with misguided faith. so on. ’

‘ it’s rare for you to point it out in that way, however. ’ suguru’s gaze is bold and unflinching, peering up from beneath the veil of dark bangs and shadowed by the setting sun. it’s in that moment that all truth is stripped bare, he thinks, because the otherworldliness of the room pushes him further into honest curiosity: ‘ am i thinking too much, manami? ’

@koseigu

had to come here to post this extremely Liu Xiao thing. and while we're at it let me tell you this is also Mukuro and Luka.

no one is allowed to talk to suguru if you've seen him before no, you haven't, erase him from your memories trust me it's better if you do he's a wanted criminal and a very dangerous curse user stay away from a man with long, black hair dark as night beautiful honey-tinted eyes and bewitching smile do not speak to him and come to me asap and share his location this is important for the nation's safety, government orders not mine. please and thank you.

I'm so sorry, guys, but he IS hot.

name. geese.

pronouns. she/her or they/them

preferred comms. tumblr ims work, discord for deeper plot and twitter.

name of muse. satoru michael liu xiao satoru kogami suguru kaiser gojo the second

experience in RP. so there was this vampire knight community where i wrote zero for about a year or two and then moved to death note where i played mikami for another couple years, it was mostly forum-based rps and when i found out about tumblr wrote midorima shintaro for years and then rohan kishibe, leone abbacchio, risotto nero, chrollo, yomo, xanxus, byakuran, ogata all at the same time and then took like 3 years of break and came back with geto but also met kaiser and was like why not so now im hopping from geto to this multi to kaiser and whatever i feel like writing. my maths arent adding though but just know ive been rpying since i was 12 and unsupervised.

best experiences. writing golden kamuy with my friend spice who's no longer on tumblr! i feel like my writing improved a lot while exploring ogata's character — in fact i think he's my favorite muse that i've written ever, for anyone who doesn't know about GK please read it ! it's such a great manga and ogata one of the best written characters ever and jsyk he was ranked 7th for the 4th consecutive year in the yumejoshi top. another great experience was getting back to rp this year! i got to meet a lot of new people and made new friends who are also obsessed with geto.

pet peeves / dealbreakers. duplicate jealousy or whatever it's called. i don't really do exclusives because i think everyone writes their own muse differently so it's a big deal breaker for me that someone is unfriendly towards or does't welcome writers of the same muse. uh... aside from that, i don't really know what else. i'm pretty laid back and shrug off a lot of things.

muse preference (angst, fluff + smut). a bit of everything actually! a lot of angst gets too heavy for me eventually, comedy gets tiring, smut also gets old, so you could say i prefer varying there's really no preference. though i do favor character study! love analyzing a character's psyche and their responses, love putting my pookies into situations.

plots or memes. memes are usually better for me but that's because i'm really slow on discord since i'm always working, drawing or at the gym fighting for my life, so plotting privately might get frustrating with me :melt: unless you're really patient or just as busy as me lmao

are you like your muse. gojo just like me fr because we're both obsessed with geto but he should move aside bc he doesnt know what to do with all that but i do I DOOOOOOOO

tagged by / stolen from arthur @trelonkan :^) tagging @12reset @hourdive @psielapki @tearenola @cursedfell @inverteds @antishaman @hellkings *grabs you*

@cursedfell

skrch

a print of this is available!

❛ you’re a fucking nightmare. kiss me. ❜ (sugimoto @ ogata) let the rivalmance begin

during winter, when anglerfish was available, his mother cooked for a father that would never come.

in these periods of lucidness, she would always tell him the same “he will come, you see… i have to make his favorite food. it’s a long way from the north, so he will be hungry.”

he’d heard from her, too, about the relentless winter in hokkaido, of the mountains that surrounded his father’s base and he’d always imagined what it would be like to descend from a frozen land to the noticeably warmer weather of ibaraki. he imagined it would go like this: his father, the shining medals — his lieutenant general uniform pristine and ironed as he saw it in the bromide his mother kept atop her vanity, in the corner of their room. wrought in the finest metals, he would step inside, and he’d greet her, like lovers do in books, the stories he’s heard other children tell about their own parents. about the way their fathers kissed their mothers at the doorstep.

 and they would sit at the low-table, pouring his portion in their finest plates. would his father nod approvingly after tasting mother’s molten love in the nabe’s broth? or would he go about it silently, like ogata did? quiet enjoyment, because there’s no use saying these things, his mother barely spoke a word back. but maybe this time would be different. she’d be talkative, serene; she often reminded him of a butterfly. fragile and beautiful.

but he’d been around nine-years-old, and naive.

love did not exist. not as people painted it. it’s instinct, swirling egos, the necessity to have something that will bend beneath your palm at will. it’s vulnerability, and ogata abhors anything that puts him at a disadvantage. on some night, sugimto watches him, amber eyes possessing a quiet certainty about something that makes ogata’s stomach turn, an absolute belief that whatever it is that sugimoto sees, what he thinks he sees in ogata, is only but a projection of his own deluded fantasies.

ogata held sugimoto’s gaze, lips taut and his face a blank canvas. sugimoto’s lips taste of sake, of herbs; his scars are more vivid up close, as though slashed only moments prior, like they would bleed at any moment. he could feel the part that split sugimoto’s mouth in halves brush against his skin, humid, forcefully pressing forth, but ogata doesn’t budge. staring down sugimoto’s face, like he would do to a target through the lens of his type 30 arisaka.

what would his innards look like? if he shot sugimoto now, here, in the quiet of the wilderness, with the rest cramped up in the kotan like snakes in a pit, would that rouse any of them up? he could pretend they’d been attacked, that a spy from the 7th division followed their trail, right up here, and ogata had no other choice but to kill both.

load of bullshit, there’s no way that asirpa brat would believe it.

“afraid you’ll bleed?” he settles for this: in a swift movement, ogata’s hand clasps around sugimoto’s jaw, his thumb burying itself deep in the dent of sugimoto’s facial scars, and if he willed it, ogata could probably pluck one of his eyes out. sugimoto’s reflexes are quick, blood-shot adrenalin, an elbow to ogata’s ribs. that’s when his expressionless mask finally breaks, because he knows this, he knows anger, he knows what a starving beast looks like driven to a corner. ogata smiles, teeth showing through thinned lips. “i guess not.”

“quit playing, sugimoto, and get to what we came here for. i don’t know how long you’ll try to keep playing house, just don’t waste my time.”