TORMENTOR.

your "wing" isn't able to fly anywhere. ...but i'm different. i'm going to make all the trash see that ghouls are above humans. apartment: 3.007. spouse: kuroo tetsurou. kid: tasuku ryuenji. job: who kno??? [ affiliated with UN. ] [ sidebar art credit. ]

[badwinged-blog]

yes my load

[drakosic]

     His time is spent eating in the kitchen, having grown use to Kuroo’s cooking (in which Tasuku asks from time to time if he can have spaghetti made and even sugar brought back him but recently asking for a typical meal seemed like he was asking for just way too much.) What’s new to him is that as Ayato comes down, words between them aren’t really spoken because it’s more of a, ‘If you don’t have anything smart to say, don’t say it or be called out for stupidity’ type of conversations. His time here has made him learn what to say and what not to, depending on what it is since Ayato wouldn’t listen anyway.

     What surprises him is that, it’s been a month and never has the other said anything about he’s eaten (well in a postive highlight, normally he would say something rude). The fact that he sits down right in front of Tasuku brings him to raise his head, confusion laced on his features. This time it’s only silence as the other intently watches, he moves the fork from left to right so that the sugar would sink into the pasta, something he’s grown use to eating in his youth. As the fork is sat down is the same time the other speaks, ‘give me that’, no manners just reaching his arm over and taking the plate away from him. His eye twitched madly, composing himself again, before resuming his speech.

     Uhm, hello?

     Alright, if Tasuku wasn’t hungry, this would have been fine but he was. Noticing the way of how Ayato held the fork (it was wrong, he didn’t need to hold the item in his palm like that. "You could have said, ‘please’." He speaks, knowing that the other heard him but all in all, did Ayato ever care. He was living the life of la vida loca as much as he did anything he wanted. He can’t really recall ever staying home enough to see if Ayato ate certain things since Tasuku normally ate out, and came home too late to even warm up things or everything was all gone. He didn’t realize it was normally food for one at that point.

     The inquiry he states is simple enough, "What did you do? Grow up in a cave?" He laughs lightly, “It’s spaghetti. It has sugar in it. If you had asked I would have gotten you a plate and that’s not how you hold a fork at all… but all in all, tastes really good right? I think Kuroo has to hold back his meal in his throat when he sees me eat it, guess it’s not his thing.”

[badwinged-blog]

Obviously, Ayato spends very little time socializing with his so-called family. Outside of some necessary interaction (i.e. 'get the fuck out of my way'), he avoids speaking to them; first of all, they're humans -- and so, he hates them by default, even if they hadn't exactly done anything to him (yet), and second of all, they're annoying, although the child seems a little better (at the very least, Tasuku knows when to shut his trap -- unlike Kuroo, who tends to push it beyond what he can handle.) Coincidentally, that's also the reason why he doesn't hesitate in approaching the brat -- he can be pretty tolerable, Ayato guesses.

"Fuck off," is the first thing he says, promptly shutting the child down (honestly, saying 'please' seems like something a nice person would do: needless to say, Ayato doesn't exactly belong in said group.) For a few seconds, he struggles with the fork; the thing is odd, weirdly shaped and seemingly useless, and eventually, he decides to throw it away and simply use his fingers -- something he's much more familiar with, given that cutlery is the last thing you need when you eat humans, of all things.

"Fuck off," he repeats, bristling slightly. As unbelievable as it might seem, he did grow up in a relatively normal home -- at the very least, his father had tried to make it look that way. He failed, of course; they'd killed him for his carelessness, and beyond the basic knowledge he passed onto both Touka and himself, Ayato knew very little about how the human world works. To be honest, he wasn't very interested in finding out, either; the disgust for the entirety of human population successfully killed off his curiosity (if he ever had any.)

"Get yourself a new plate instead of complaining, then," glancing up briefly, he shoots the kid an expectant look; waiting is for people who aren't about to drop from hunger, and his limited resources had reduced him to this. "Who cares about that dumbass? No wonder he has shit taste in food." For Ayato, this is perfect -- the pasta seems filling, and the sugar adds just the right amount of sweetness for it to be enjoyable.

"You got anything else that's sweet around here?"

[badwinged-blog]

first of all, half of those dont even taste good, you know nothing, you have no taste,

[lixorei-blog]

     In the end, it never really occurs to him, that what Ayato stores in the freezer is relevant to his current problem (usually, trying to peek inside has resulted in a series of hissing and shoving). He catches the sound of footsteps coming from the bedroom — but, given the size and openness of the space, picking up noise where there once was none isn’t anything that requires additional effort. "Thanks — you do, too," he shoots back, knowing well that Ayato’s only in a slightly better state than he is. What captivates his interest, however, is what Ayato dumps, rather unceremoniously, onto the table.

     "That’s human, isn’t it?" But truthfully, Kuroo’s too desperate to act like he cares — Kenma had witnessed the brunt of his shock a day earlier, anyway. "Whatever, as long as it isn’t rotten." Without asking further questions (for now), he takes what Ayato gives him, slides it onto a plate, pops it in the microwave and hits the defrost button. While it rotates, he watches it intently; keeps his gaze fixed, almost like a fascinated child — as it thaws, it soon gives off that same, desirable scent; he leaves it for a bit longer, before removing it from the microwave and setting it on the counter. 

     He’s quick in demolishing the plate’s contents — cares little about the scent that lingers on his hands, afterwards; rips through it with his fingernails and tears off chunks with his teeth; focuses on getting it down as fast as possible, regardless of how messily he does it; occasionally, he has to remind himself to stop, and to breathe, to gasp for air and to allow oxygen back into his lungs, but he does it sparingly (it doesn’t feel like a priority, right now). In any other situation, he’d be wary of consuming meat raw — but from the brief times he’d seen Ayato remove something from the freezer, he’d done just the same; so Kuroo figures that it isn’t harmful. When he’s satisfied a good portion of his appetite, he eyes Ayato curiously, disdainfully, swiping a tongue over his mouth; pulls a sleeve up, to rub it across the lower half of his face.

     "…’Maybe?’” He echoes the last bit of Ayato’s words, tilts his head to the side — amusedly. There’s a lot of resentment that wells up within him, all at once — more than he expects; it hits him, hard. While he finds it difficult to pinpoint what it is that bothers him (the fact that Ayato had taken so long, or the fact that Ayato had never told him in the first place), it cumulates, nonetheless, into something ugly. "Do you really think that you still have the power to give me that half-assed shit?” He’s disgusted enough with Ayato’s secrecy to almost spit, his lip curling upwards, into a sneer. "Look at yourself. Who are you, right now, to me?"

     His laughter is a soft sound against his ears — a bit foreign; he doesn’t recall the last time that he’s been this angry. "I may not know what you are, but I’ve figured out a lot of what you can do. There is no 'maybe'. You’re going to talk to me now, and definitely.”

[badwinged-blog]

"Yeah," he answers, bony shoulders rising in a shrug. Deep inside, he's a little surprised at how casually Kuroo takes it -- no drama, no tears, no unnecessary words; it seems as if the hunger had gotten the best of his morality (Ayato's pleased, as much as he can be.) It's almost funny -- and briefly, he wonders what'd happen if he had left Kuroo to his own devices; wants to watch him kill, then crumble underneath the weight of his guilt. It's a little too late for that, though, and he takes what he can get -- which isn't exactly a pleasant sight (there's something naturally animalistic about the way he devours the meat; he'd make a good ghoul, Ayato thinks -- the shackles of humanity don't suit him at all.)

Nevertheless, there's no way to persevere the power for any longer than he'll be allowed to by whatever's causing this -- which should stop him from running his mouth, but doesn't. It's funny; he'd certainly gained some bark along with the bite, but what good is it gonna do him when he's powerless again? Ayato doesn't have it in him to respect the other -- current circumstances aside, he's still human (not a very pleasant one, either, although he deeply believes that none of them are.)

"Shut up," he groans; leans back in his chair, a small eyeroll following. "Don't piss me off, or I won't tell you anything, asshole. What, do you think this will last forever? You think I won't kill you when things are back in place? Think again, you dumb fuck." Naturally, Ayato doesn't completely cross out the possibility of getting hurt -- despite that, Kuroo doesn't seem like a murderer to him (not yet, at least; if given enough time to accomodate to his new species, he'd have some potential.) For the time being, though, he's hardly scared -- there's nothing the other can do that Ayato can't do better (more painfully, as soon as their roles reverse again.)

"A lot, but not all. Fast, strong, blah, blah, blah -- that shit's honestly only the beginning. We're a superior race for more reasons than just one." He'll admit, though -- right now, he is nothing; nonetheless, humans are still the biggest threat the ghouls have ever faced (this is exactly the reason he hates them -- his disdain runs deep in his blood, and right now, he hates himself, too.) "I will, cuz I said I will, not because you told me to." He clarifies, looking as exasperated as humanly possible -- honestly, who does Kuroo think he is, to him?

"Anyway, let's cut this short, cause I gotta eat something, too," tiredly, he leans on his elbow; glances towards the fridge, skeptically, then back at Kuroo. "If you haven't figured that out, yet, smartass, you're a ghoul now. That's what I am, normally. We're carnivorous, in a way that we can only feed on human meat -- you ate any normal food lately? Fucking gross, right? We can't stomach that shit -- if you do, it'll make you weak."

[krafthoney-deactivated20151018]

Aﾀｲﾌﾟ／ｽﾗﾝﾌﾟ | グールログ

[incompletus-blog]

ɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ Sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀᴇ sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ

Events transpired in a rapid pace, turning impossible to feel relieved at the fact not everything was lost. A glimpse of hope presented in the worst of forms but at least granting a possibility to suffocate the loneliness — can anyone truly blame a a sister to find herself alleviated for finding her own brother? No matter how stupid, irrational and terrible he can be… dead is not what she would wish upon the last blood tie she had in this world.

Savage and resentful she can be but her sense of fairness was somewhat twisted to find little guilt on ‘beating’ him up even when their confrontations have been nothing but gruesome. Most never benefiting her.

She observes within a safe distance, pondering whether to approach or not. Leaving her presence unknown could be a wise choice yet, if they were to meet in other circumstances, it is possible it may end bitterly like every other occasion.

"You’re alive, huh?" she calls out for him in a stern voice, deciding to not add more until later.

To the hell with everything, if a fight is deem to happen at some point, so be it.

[badwinged-blog]

He catches her scent long before she makes her presence known to him -- manages to stiffle the lingering relief, his sister a faint reminder of the world they were forced to leave. It's both positive and negative, in his mind; as much as he hated it back home (humans were a disgusting menace, meant to die; his feelings on the subject didn't change, but at the very least, he doesn't feel like an animal up for slaughter anymore) it was a world he knew better; a world he knew at all, really, finding himself lost in a completely new, unknown environment.

So, yeah, seeing her is a relief; not that he'd ever acknowledge it or make it apparent, lips curving in a mocking sneer as soon as she decides to approach him (with such lovely words, too -- but, they've never been good at this whole verbal communication thing, and especially not to each other.)

"If a pathetic weakling like you survived, so did I. That should've been obvious, stupid Touka," he raises his arm to wave her off nonchalantly, second hand stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie.

To be completely honest, the memory of his last fight with her isn't a pleasant one -- not that she had anything to do with it, really, but even so, he keeps himself stagnant; completely still, allowing her to decide what kind of approach to take. If she wants a fight, a fight she'll get -- this time around, he might just kill her, though (Kaneki doesn't seem to be lingering about; unfortunate.)

[badwinged-blog]

first of all, half of those dont even taste good, you know nothing, you have no taste,

Needless to say, it's been a tough week so far -- being human sucks just as much as he expected it to, if not more. He feels tired; a different kind of hungry, weak, sick, dull, senses hardly picking up anything aside from the simplest of sights, smells and noises. It hurts when he hits his toe against the chair; his muscles protest painfully when he tries to move the bed a little to the right, overestimating his strength. So, yeah -- all in all, he's been better (never worse); spends most of his days and nights attempting to sleep it away, hiding from his spouse who -- presumably -- currently walks around with his kagune resting beneath his skin (or at least, that's what the news claim -- a swap.)

He can't avoid it forever, of course; knows very well that if he doesn't do anything, Kuroo's going to do something stupid. There isn't much faith he's willing to put in the other boy's intelligence, nor his self-control, given he's never had such problems before; and, while Ayato couldn't care less about his survival, he does worry about his own (hungry ghouls are mindless, dangerous, violent ghouls -- he'd know; he's been there.)

It's been about three days since all of this started, and over said time, he had eaten very little; the meat he keeps for himself in the freezer (for instances in which he's too lazy to go hunting) doesn't taste good at all, and eating it raw causes him nothing but a stomach ache (promptly, he throws it up minutes later.) There is some human food in the fridge, but he doesn't really know what to do with it; most things, when eaten right out of the package, don't taste well and make him sick.

Hence his decision to approach Kuroo (that, and he doesn't want to fall victim to a rampaging, hungry ghoul. Besides, this conversation is long overdue, anyway.)

Ayato finds the other in the kitchen, surrounded by open packages of food he doesn't recognize; he looks positively miserable, on the verge of something (whether it's tears or anger, he can't tell; doesn't care.) "You look like literal shit," he announces, completely casual, then heads straight for the freezer; takes out a big chunk of frozen meat, slamming it down on the table in front of Kuroo.

"Here's the deal. Unfreeze that, eat it, and stop being a fucking eyesore. We can talk afterwards, maybe."

[badwinged-blog]

yes my load

Hunger -- as Ayato promptly notices -- is a feeling humans know very little about. Sure, he feels it; due to the fact that he's rendered mostly helpless, unaware of how things work and what to eat to feel sated (and not throw up five minutes later), the persistent feeling of emptiness in his stomach remains. It's nothing compared to what a ghoul feels, though -- it doesn't turn him murderous (merely irritated, but when isn't he, honestly?) nor does it make him attack people; at best, he's angry at his own powerlessness, unable to properly feed himself like this.

Thankfully, he doesn't live alone. It takes him some time to realize, mostly because he knows Kuroo is a ghoul now and therefore mostly useless in terms of human food, but his so-called son seems perfectly fine (if his abilities had been swapped, it wasn't anything significant nor worth noting.) As he learns, humans follow certain patterns, as far as feeding goes (it seems pretty pointless -- why not eat when you're hungry? Especially since this kind of hunger is satiable.) Mornings, noons and evenings -- that's when they usually eat, and that's when he leaves the bedroom, the clock striking fifteen past six.

Conveniently enough, the table they use to eat is located in the kitchen -- and there he finds Tasuku, eating something that resembles a yellow goo with white coating. Well, whatever; it's hardly the looks that matter -- it's not as if human remains appear any more appetizing than this. He sits across from the boy, observing him intently, then speaks:

"Give me that," and, without any further ado, slides the plate away from Tasuku, stuffing some of the pasta into his mouth (how do you even use cutlery? Irrelevant. It could always be lost in the snow, and then you'd have to use hands, anyway.) It tastes odd -- sickly sweet, but he finds himself enjoying that kind of taste the most (blame it on his young age, or the fact that he's never had sweets in his life.)

"What the fuck is that, anyway?"

[lixorei-blog]

Disgusting... steps on...

     Looks at you from the floor…….. good…………………………

[badwinged-blog]

[s-indria]

Ayato Kirishima || Episode 10

"I’m different. I’m going to show that trash that ghouls are above humans!"

[badwinged-blog]

[ looks at the camera like in the office ]

[albinos-ruined-me]

by はちろ ※Permission to upload this was given by the artist

[badwinged-blog]

incompletus replied to your post:Stupid aneki senses are tingling…

im watchin u brat

[baejuu-deactivated20230419]

[badwinged-blog]

Stupid aneki senses are tingling...

[nagatenjoki]

Ayato Kirishima - Chapter 64

[lixorei-blog]

disgosting

[lixorei-blog]

     "Whatever." As if he cares, really — though, he’ll admit that he’s bad with timing, somewhat; what feels like a second during after-school practice sessions in the gym is actually a composition of hours. (He’ll step in while loudly thanking the gym for air conditioning, but the first thing he does when he leaves is squint, eyes adjusting to nighttime darkness.) There’s one thing that Kuroo’s nearly incapable of doing — and that’s quelling his instinct to coax. It gets him into more situations that he ends up regretting than enjoying, but he’s busy living for the present, and not for the future.

     Inevitably, Ayato goes for the route that Kuroo expects him to pick — he’ll eye the boy warily as Ayato pushes himself up to a standing position, his feet sinking gently into the couch, but all Kuroo does is lean away a bit, wondering what Ayato could possibly do next, but he doesn’t leave him guessing for long.

     Just then — Ayato puts his foot somewhere that Kuroo hadn’t been expecting; in that split-second instant, he swears that he sees his life flash before his vision. A steady stream of expletives tumbles from his mouth (what the fuck, get it off, get it off, you—), groans, whines, a strangled sort of noise; fingernails instinctively try to dig into Ayato’s leg (of course, it doesn’t work, but he’s a mess of desperation and pain and a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach that he has no trouble deciphering as—).

     He tilts his head back, eyes shutting tightly; the sounds that leave his throat are oddly melodic, provocative, and he’d be lying if he wasn’t somewhat embarrassed by this situation altogether, but he doesn’t bother masking it — doesn’t have time to try masking it, wonders briefly if, in the short shade that Ayato’s frame provides, that the other would notice an additional color settling across his expression. He’ll grit his teeth together, slowly lifting his head an inch, for a half-lidded gaze to irritably settle on Ayato’s triumphant features — and it stays like that, for a while, the audio of the television filling in the silence between.

     "You don’t let me in the bedroom, but you go and step on me, like that? I’m getting mixed signals,” he remarks, first thing, when he finally decides to speak up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand; his breath comes in audible inhales, exhales, inhales, exhales; though, he still manages a simper with what air he has, with an accompanying wink. "You know, we can always do it out here, if you’d like. There’s more room, anyway."

     His head tilts to the side, curses his own tendencies to get ahead of himself; his breath hitches at the back of his throat mid-laugh, when Ayato turns his foot to the side. "Hah— aaaaha, just kidding.”

[badwinged-blog]

It's only funny for the first minute, really -- he listens to the string of confused profanities with obvious amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, Kuroo's reaction a clear sign that his sudden, improvised punishment was a success (for a little while, anyway.) There's fingernails digging in his deceptively soft skin, something he barely feels through the thin layer of material, and he silently commends Kuroo for refusing to scream -- that'd be annoying.

The sounds he makes border on pained, but there's something else to his voice aside from mere hurt; at first, Ayato doesn't really pay attention -- it's only when he can hear Kuroo's heartbeat rising does he double-take, sharp, predatory gaze easily catching the blood rushing to his cheeks (-- and not only that.) A gagged sort of noise escapes his throat upon realization, but any further reaction is delayed -- there's confusion and surprise hidden beneath his irises, gaze holding Kuroo's stubbornly. He feels oddly affected, if only for a split second; the melodic sound of Kuroo's voice resonates inside of his head, sensitive hearing picking up every smallest hitch of his breath.

It takes him one, two, three seconds to snap out of it completely, anger and disgust twisting his expression. Acting on instinct, he moves his foot away instantanenously -- it's now placed on the other side of Kuroo's hip, where it should've landed in the first place. It's his fault, really -- he had every reason to believe the other was a total fuck-up, judging by their little spat earlier.

"What the fuck, you creepy-ass idiot? Don't misunderstand. I'm not into your gross, masochistic, perverted shit," honestly, Ayato probably would've hit him if it wasn't for the fact that he might enjoy it. Instead, he leans over to grab Kuroo's arm and tug it closer, attempting to grab the remote. The movie session is obviously a no-go, but he tends to be a sore loser. 

"Also, I'd rather die than get anywhere close to your shrimp-dick, fucker," he adds after a moment, the image of Kuroo's winking face stuck in his head like a plague. At the very least, he's positive that the other is distracted enough to not put up much of a fight anymore -- and so, he reaches for the remote, still holding onto his arm to prevent escape. Once his fingers are safely wrapped around it, he raises it above his head triumphantly, glancing down at the boy still stuck on the couch.

Kuroo doesn't look like he'd care (not in this state, at least), but Ayato speaks up, anyway, determined to make it official: "I win."

[lixorei-blog]

disgosting

[lixorei-blog]

     He decides to chase it another time, merely shrugs at how tight-lipped Ayato is, figures instead that he shouldn’t be so hasty on the first day to unravel Ayato of all his secrets; he’ll refrain from bothering Ayato directly about the topic for a few days, and put forth his energy elsewhere, crossing his fingers that he comes across a mutual acquaintance that’s far less keen on injuring him.

     But for now, unsolved mysteries will have to linger between them; he leans back against the sofa, feeling his back sink into the soft plush of the cushion behind him. Ayato isn’t talkative, in the very least — boring, unamusing, no fun at all; though Kuroo hopes that he’ll open up, given a few days. However, for now, he ceases further inquiry, leaving silence between them — for a brief moment, until he detects a small, scrabbling noise on the opposite side of the couch.

     "Not today," he’ll respond, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face. A millisecond before Ayato would come in contact with the remote, Kuroo extends his arm, holding the device up in the air, dangling it above the arm of the couch and clearly out of the other’s immediate reach. To grab it, Ayato would have to either fall across his lap, or haul himself up and off the sofa — but if he tries the latter, there’s no doubt that Kuroo would see it coming… maybe.

[badwinged-blog]

Not fast enough to grab the remote on first try, he groans in annoyance, the other's arm clearly out of his reach. It's not just height Kuroo's got the advantage in -- his arms are longer, shoulders broad and stabile (his wingspan is wider, Ayato thinks, ironically.) In the end, none of this matters -- he figures he owes Kuroo a game, simply because of his plain refusal to join the other one (except by now, Kuroo really should know better than to initate competitions, no matter how seemingly harmless and insignificant.)

There's two ways to go about this, and -- predictably -- Ayato picks the one that doesn't require a lot of physical contact. He could, obviously, simply crawl across the other's lap and grab his arm (possibly also break it, as a punishment for being an insufferable brat) but it seems like an odd thing to do, and he had learned his lesson earlier, positive that Kuroo would do something weird.

"Tonight," he corrects stubbornly, pushing himself up instead of forward. The aim is to move over Kuroo's body entirely -- he could easily extend his leg that far, the armrest mere inches away. Somewhere mid-step, though, a better idea comes to mind -- he might not be able to break Kuroo's arm like this, but instead, he allows his foot to land in the middle of the other's lap, his entire weight shifting on that leg. He still can't reach the remote, arm stuck in the air uselessly, but truth be told, as things are right now, he's more interested in Kuroo's reaction, glancing down and moving his foot to make sure it hurts.

[badwinged-blog]

❤

from: ayato.to: kuroo trashtsurou.

[ txt. ] u can put sth in the fridge