“The World Is Quite Ruthless In Selecting Between The Dream And The Reality, Even Where We Will Not.”

obsessed with how nearly all the espadas joined aizen for their own interestes or begrudgingly obey him bc he overpowers them, while ulquiorra just like genuinely likes aizen for some reason

thinking about this again

( sms ) : i'm in. whatever it is you're planning, i'm in

for lx !!

[sms] 23;45: it's good to know but it's not something we should discuss over the phone. i'll come to see you tonight. [sms] 23;46: dispose of your phone once you read this.

@burntpa1acel // texting prompts.

#me erasing the stitches so i can see my princess

mother

geto only shows mercy when he's playing the benevolent priest/monk, or when it comes to his old comrades. but even then, he will always prioritize the greater good, meaning that whoever it is he will invoke any curse to get rid of the obstacle, there's a reason he's considered the worst curse user the college has seen. I'd say the only person that could essentially make him falter is gojo, given their history together. he's an open wound, but he always hopes in silence that it'd never come to that, or at least not so soon. I've talked about it before but Geto isn't the type to let disrespect slide, or the sin of being born a non sorcerer. the only reason he's been shown interacting with them is to deceive them, not because he's made exceptions. it's a bit hard to figure out ways in which he could interact with others in a sincere way that doesn't end in someone's death but we'll see.

gojo's sakamoto days verse is literally just him and nagumo being roommates. that's all there is to it.

❝  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

please im begging connect me with more psycho pass blogs i am rotting in this corner

❛  wall.   to  pin  my  muse  against  a  wall ( yuki and suguru, perhaps ? )

@gokunoban // 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑰𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝒀 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑹𝑬 .

his limbs flinch and his breath is caught in the narrow space between their mouths, like a spell or a curse he swallowed halfway through a dry throat. desperate, frantically looking for the exit - these weren’t the kisses of two lovers but two drowning bodies.

the smell of antiseptic fills his nostrils, giving him a sense of deja vu: half-eaten corpses, tears that have long since dried, blinking lights on the ceiling. time and chance has brought them to this place, though his mind stayed behind and that’s probably why her smell and the shape of her hips against his body feel all too familiar. sorrow is for the mourners. all those who become hollow can only pick stones and throw them into a well, waiting patiently for the bottomless darkness to greet them back. foreheads pressing, she’s the first to pull away.

suguru remembered, then, how much he likes her eyes.

brown, shaped like a pair of almonds ready to take a bite of. being looked at that way - like a case study and a pet - should anger him, make his stomach twist. hazed by the narcotics and swept by a current, logic forsakes him. the very core of his being is replaced by something else entirely and it’s warmer, sharper, heavier in his stomach. it’s mostly impulse what makes him search for a place around her waist, bring her closer to him. 

‘ came for a visit? or has my execution date moved closer? i wouldn’t mind being killed by you. ’ fingers tangle themselves between long strands of blonde hair, follow its course, a curtain that is lifted for the spectators,  ‘ red becomes you. ’