無限

...𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢

[b0kksu]

      indie gōjo satoru, follows back from shiranken, I am not posting rules cause this is a sideblog - so, if you follow, just respect & be nice. otherwise, heavy canon divergent with home cooked lore, thank you. loved by, cereza. (30+, they / them, minors dni+)

[continuumh]

I’ll be watching you…

Every breath you take

[kaoruartsss]

[b0kksu]

@antinomos

[to00fu]

i miss gojo

[b0kksu]

me, forever tying infinity to fertility and remembering how badly itsuki tried to sever the bonds of fate only to be deemed impure thus stripped of his only child while satoru became a willing sacrifice hence idk why the perception of infinity is viewed as a blessing it is obviously a damn ass curse

[b0kksu]

       always important to note for satoru's portrayal 'he' is more of a place holder. satoru has no concepts of gender conformity that comes from the western or mortal world. since the six eyes is the curse of eternity where the soul is reincarnated till the end of days, he has been multiple forms, from feminine, male, non binary, none of it holds weight. satoru is AFAB as most in the clan are women, the only exception is his father, itsuki who is declared the rare unicorn due to being birthed as cis-male. though, the insidious purpose was to produce the six eyes' vessel which he successfully did. it's been hinted that in previous eras the inheritor had children all of whom were not able to be the next successor as their failed being deemed worthy. for clarity, satoru didn't have top surgery or gender affirmation care as he is meant to be a blend of androgynous to confuse people altogether with masculine & feminine traits. if needed, he would continue the bloodline but the sixth era understands, their time is finite - there is no chance only now.

[asunasano]

gojo & geto ♡

[b0kksu]

Sneaks up behind him like a shadow and covers his Six Eyes with his hands. / kei :3

      THE  PALE  DREARY  DAYS  GAVE  HIM  A  MILD  COMFORT,  the  warm  air  full  of  static  that  crackled  upon  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  he  could  feel  the  pulsating  beat  of  a  summer  storm.  Where  the  thin  vinyl  umbrella  shielded  him  from  the  damp  droplets  that  gathered  upon  his  marble  palms.  Summers  in  Hokkaido  became  a  reflection  of  tradition,  they  were  never  to  be,  the  epitome  of  a  Gōjo  was  to  understand  all  things  were  temporary  in  the  ebe  &  flow  of  life.  Kyoto’s  compound  was  a  jewel  of  modern  architecture,  for  most  of  his  kin,  he  was  nothing  but  a  summer  child  basking  in  the  glow  of  riches  inherited  for  the  legacy  of  piety. 

    Linen  button  downs,  small  gold  chains  because  ranking  declared  The  Eternal  Child  should  be  celebrated,  never  hidden,  his  mane  of  ivory  now  too  shaggy  missing  the  velvet  edge  of  sheers  that  went  close  to  the  scalp.  An  expensive  wrist  watch  imported  from  Europe  because  his  caretaker  insisted,  time  is  the  nature  of  Infinity,  without  time  all  ceases  to  exist,  avoid  the  grasp  of  purgatory.  The  small  headphones  continue  to  play  the  melody,  all  his  senses,  blind  folded  with  a  strangling  degree  to  allow  a  sliver  of  normalcy  where  everything  was  heightened. 

        It  must  be  comical  to  sit,  waiting  for  the  bus  like  a  commoner  who  wasn’t  wrought  with  centuries  worth  of  notoriety,  who  the  cosmos  themselves  awaited  for,  he  wants  to  fall  asleep  cocooned  by  the  shelter  of  the  bus  stop  &  the  impending  rain.  Something,  someone,  the  electricity  that  gathers  on  the  fine  white  hairs  of  his  arms,  familiar  as  it  was  cloying,  he  should  yelp,  cause  a  scene,  make  it  flirtatious  or  fun.  Instead,  his  pale  lips  contort  into  an  ‘O’  shape,  lychee-apple  gloss,  the  rare  summer  edition  that  was  tempting  to  a  wayward  youth  too  old  &  too  young.  Too  dark  of  coffee,  cigarettes  the  type  he  would  have  stolen  during  social  events,  the  faint  trickles  of  ink,  his  nose  wrinkles  then  the  billowing  laughter  similar  to  thunder  cracking  rings  fully  hearted.   “Kei-chan”  smooth,  soft,  lulled  in  a  deep  rumbling  purr  of  a  serpent  awakening  when  the  sticky  humidity  cloyed  to  its  glimmering  scales. 

        Long  fingers  reaching  to  grasp,  vision,  it  was  never  needed  in  the  matters  of  affection  wasn’t  it?  The  few  times  Satoru  allowed  himself  to  be  blind,  to  turn  where  he  shouldn’t,  a  lonely  heart  that  did  not  need  truth  only  deception  to  comfort  it.  “Hahaha!  How  did  you  find  me?”  a  silly  thing  to  say,  anyone  could  spot  him,  no  one  could  catch  him  as  he  moved  quickly  in  the  sea  of  thousands  that  swarmed.  The  clacking  sound  of  wooden  anklets,  dimpled  smiles  with  fangs,  all  of  it  momentary  making  him  appear  younger  then  he  held  himself  to  be. 

     “It’s  been  so  long,  I  thought  by  now,  you  totally  forgot  where  I  lived!  Are  you  waiting  for  the  bus?”  an  instinctive  nature  to  lie  through  his  forked  tongue  that  never  left,  half  truths,  he  never  was  a  creature  who  could  deceive  easily  -  if  anyone  dared  to  pick  apart  what  he  meant.  “Lame!  We  both  look  pathetic  right  now,  come  sit  with  me,  lest  we  can  wait  together  I  was  going  to  try  this  new  cafe  I’ve  been  hearing  a  lot  about”

[hinamie]

subject, specimen, spectacle;

should i say that you're dead?