KIRIKO

⟡ ✦ ⟡

[kirikosensei]

KIRIKOSENSEI ⬩ ⬩ ⬩ indie, canon-divergent and low-activity of the genius surgeon and the Reaper's Avatar ── .✦ Doctor Kiriko. ⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 ﹠ 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙

[kirikosensei]

@soursoil

⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖈 𝖎𝖘 𝖚𝖘𝖚𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖇𝖚𝖘𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗. Farmers come in for aching knees. Mothers drag their children by their frocks. The Sage of Bells finds himself holding back a grimace as terrible mucus pendulums swing from their noses. Fog sits in a thick woolen blanket over his thatched roof. The sun pushes against the grey like a dull needle, its head barely visible through fabric, unable to push through. He can barely make out the flicking tails of horses grazing in the distance. Their silhouettes move like caustics on grotto walls, fluid and fading.

⠀⠀⠀Familiar footsteps outside brings him to attention, his woven willow chair creaking as he stands. Sunrays poke their fingers through wooden panels. The smell of the orchard wafts under the door. A gentle tide of warmth follows.

⠀⠀⠀The door slowly parts. The pale outdoors blinds him for a moment, drawing his eyelid to a squint.

⠀⠀⠀"Redsun." Kiriko greets him.

[soursoil]

-`𖤓´- 𝖎𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖆 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝕶, 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖓 𝖚𝖓𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊. nuada's grace guides his every step, until the fog-- ever a selfish, grasping thing-- at last steals him away. the world turns to mist. the prophet does too, before hand finally meets handle, and he is greeted by his grove-tending reflection. death's minder. death itself.

beauty given physical form.

❝ morning, petal. ❞ and what a glorious morning it is. it rides close on harlon's heels, filling the cabin in his wake, warming it, despite the grey lurking just outside. sumer is icumen in. ❝ you look well. though i dinnae suppose i can say the same for masel... i'm plagued, positively plagued, by a tickle in my poor throat. ❞ he fakes it well: the wince, the pinched brow. so practiced, so measured. a too-perfect pantomime, even as his thoughts wander elsewhere. he watches kiriko's hands a moment, and wishes them upon his sun-kissed skin. circular shades hide ambling eyes. he is not so lucky, however, that they hide his smile. ❝ i did only what i thought best: came to see you, dearest doctor. ❞

[kirikosensei]

⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖐𝖎𝖓, blood vessels dilating, tingling and hot. The Sage was never one for pet names. Yet, he finds himself untuck his hair from behind his ears. It's a fluid, graceful motion. Few would realize their game. Still, the strands of hair bear the warm indent of his cartilage and a deep, red fire burns beneath Redsun's glasses.

⠀⠀⠀"We must be so lucky that you're well enough to come all this way then, aren't we?" Kiriko pulls a fresh pair of medical gloves from his desk. A second buffer between them, the doctor thinks. They dance in circles around each other as white butterflies-- Playful and chasing yet coy all the same.

⠀⠀⠀The Great Sage tips Harlon's head back with a finger, disguising caresses along his jaw with clinical precision. Kiriko sterilizes his expression, feigning faint disinterest.

⠀⠀⠀"Would you kindly open your mouth, dear Saint?" He's already eyeing the other man's lips.

[kirikosensei]

@soursoil

⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖈 𝖎𝖘 𝖚𝖘𝖚𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖇𝖚𝖘𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗. Farmers come in for aching knees. Mothers drag their children by their frocks. The Sage of Bells finds himself holding back a grimace as terrible mucus pendulums swing from their noses. Fog sits in a thick woolen blanket over his thatched roof. The sun pushes against the grey like a dull needle, its head barely visible through fabric, unable to push through. He can barely make out the flicking tails of horses grazing in the distance. Their silhouettes move like caustics on grotto walls, fluid and fading.

⠀⠀⠀Familiar footsteps outside brings him to attention, his woven willow chair creaking as he stands. Sunrays poke their fingers through wooden panels. The smell of the orchard wafts under the door. A gentle tide of warmth follows.

⠀⠀⠀The door slowly parts. The pale outdoors blinds him for a moment, drawing his eyelid to a squint.

⠀⠀⠀"Redsun." Kiriko greets him.

[kirikosensei]

"I'm not gonna let you out of my sight. If you do any funny bushiness, Pinoko will bite you!"

⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝕹𝖔𝖙 𝖆 𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊. Her small hand pierced through his slacks and her brow furrowed into funny shapes. Kiriko smiled all the same. Yuri was the same at Pinoko's age: Fiery, fervent and ever so diligent when it came to meddling in Kiriko's business.

"Understood, my Lady. As you command." He huffed. He wouldn't be getting anywhere either way. The rain thrummed against the canopy, wire brush to drum head. No bus in sight.

"Where is that man anyway? Shouldn't he be looking after you?" Kiriko clicked his tongue.

[angelicdewdrop]

[zenigatakeibu]

⚖️ 𝙰 𝙽𝙴𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝚂𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙲𝙴... In a perfect world, there would be no such thing. This world, though-- 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙰𝙽𝚈'𝚂 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳-- is anything but. Everybody's a sacrifice. Dying colonies, unbearable temperatures, novel diseases every new cycle: it's all one unforeseen tragedy after the other. Zenigata has long given up believing in perfect worlds. Out here, you'd be a fool not to.

The captain draws closer, and the doors slide shut behind him with a quiet hydraulic hiss. Toyotama's lab smells so clean, so sterile. A slice of life separated from the stink of smoke and sweat and steel that permeates the rest of the ship from bow to stern. Kiriko is the same-- free of the consequences of human effort. Of human vice. Though it would seem, perhaps, not entirely. The synth speaks of guilt. The weight of one life against another. He fidgets with his hair-- or whatever the cybernetic equivalent of hair is he has hanging from his head. He's a shadow: not flesh and blood but undeniably still human-shaped.

Whose shadow, Zenigata cannot say.

〝 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝙸𝙵 𝙸'𝙼 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽, 𝙱𝚄𝚃… 〞 A clumsy start as he navigates just what it is he wants to say. Piloting a 450 ton ship through the vacuum of space is one thing. Philosophizing with a robot is another. He is no wordsmith. His jaw tightens, and like Kiriko his gaze can't seem to settle in any one place. It travels from corner to floor, beaker to tank. Anywhere but the synth. 〝 .. I didn't know you could feel guilt. 〞

[kirikosensei]

⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝕻𝖆𝖑𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖆 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖓. It's an almost girlish gesture. A gentle laugh shivers through him. Barely over a rumble, dulcet and pure, like racemes of weepy wisteria whispering against one another. The lab lights buzz overhead. The incubator hums against the wall. The lab is deafeningly alight with energy; Kiriko's voice comes nearly too low.

⠀⠀⠀"You outrank me, Captain. No need to be so considerate." His teeth are imperfect. Upper canines are crooked. One of the lower incisors is slightly taller than the other. They flash briefly as his smile cradles each word. "If you'd humor for a moment, suppose that there are many humans who feel little guilt. I'm not suggesting they cannot. Though, I've seen my fair share of those entirely detached from the concept."

⠀⠀⠀He stirs at the small tank again, resting his chin in his palm. "I was programmed to admire art. I have a deep respect for life, an eye for beauty. Some may criticize if it authentically comes from me— that if any string of code could stand to change that, how could I truly be able to appreciate anything at all?"

⠀⠀⠀There's a twist of pride in his words. He is perfectly aware of his own conflicting humanness and lack thereof. He ponders it often, never quite finding an answer, but Kiriko has no desire to be human. He is synthetic. There is no ache in this existence. There is eternity as there is the threat of obsolescence. Everything has its balance and Kiriko finds himself at the center of both the living and the anodic.

⠀⠀⠀"All this to say, if there are men that do not feel guilt, is it so anomalous to you that a perhaps a synthetic can, Captain?"

[kirikosensei]

Happy Summer from Me ^_^

[kirikosensei]

18+ roleplay community ramblings:

One reason why I don't roleplay nsfw is because a lot of roleplayers have not done ample research on what it means to be in an intimate consensual relationship and operate on fanfiction terms. Which is okay if that's what you like but it totallyyyy takes me out of the experience and dries up my well of creativity lol. A lot of writers don't even understand the concept of a dom deriving pleasure almost exclusively from the pleasure of their sub or like how much their sub desires to please them….. A lot of people think doms are exclusively forceful and sadistic when a lot of them are not. No dom who is actually a dominant and not an abusive loser would like... act in harmful/forceful way without discussing a scene beforehand or what dynamics are expected in the bdsm relationship.

I think because of my perspective on sex and specifically how my muses are, which is experienced and wholesome in the sense that they genuinely would not seek to harm their partners... it's hard for me to play the part of 😈 Lay Back and Endure.(/ref) cuz it's just so..... unrealistic and sometimes a little disturbing to think of my characters that way. Like even if they're kind of morally grey or assholes, they have a pretty good grasp on what is acceptable in the bedroom because I do. I wouldn't really want to write it any other way even if it would somehow someway make sense in context of the narrative.

Also depicting them otherwise is like anti-sexy for me... LIKE. They genuinely fuck... so they wouldn't be on that foolishness that virgins fantasize about (NO DISRESPECT, I was like that once).

Nothing recent brought this on by the way.. I've just been reflecting...

[kirikosensei]

My final exam is on Tuesday... then I'll be free for the summer!

[crimsolyn]

[kirikosensei]

Researching opera because Kiriko would 100% cry at an opera and yes he's death gripping the arm rests

[kirikosensei]

//Semester coming to an end so life is getting busy >_< Loose/temporary hiatus

[kirikosensei]

KIRIKOSENSEI ⬩ ⬩ ⬩ indie, canon-divergent and low-activity of the genius surgeon and the Reaper's Avatar ── .✦ Doctor Kiriko. ⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 ﹠ 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙

[kirikosensei]

// And yes I love him sooo much ^_^

[abranax-deactivated20260326]

@kirikosensei said: ❛ door . hold a door open for my muse . — for June.

She'd had to steel herself, still, when she rounded the sidewalk and approached the visitor's entrance. It was subtle; shoulder pads obscured the careful squaring of her frame and for a moment she would need to stop, inhale, prepare herself for whatever was to come. An inevitable struggle: something she had come to expect every time she visited, now. Lilly seemed stable, but there were moments in which June felt that a backslide was fast approaching.

June had hoped she was alone to collect herself, for that singular moment. @kirikosensei was a gentleman, but not the person she wanted to pass before her and beckon her inside; she didn't have time for his chiding, not today. The tense grip on her briefcase flexes as she slides past. Reserves slowly begin to deplete; reserves she needed for Lilly, to keep her cool. "Doctor. Got a patient, today?"

[kirikosensei]

⬩ ⬩ ⬩ "𝕯𝖔𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗 𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖘!" A polite smile plastered to his face, unsettlingly catlike and barely concealing contempt. His cadence was almost friendly. "I've been expecting you. You never return my calls." Kiriko bowed his head a little and gestured her inside with a gloved hand.

⠀⠀⠀"I went ahead and brewed your signature blend." Brahms' Presto Agitato murmured softly into the corridor with the subtly sweet aroma of chrysanthemum petals following close behind. "Do have a seat, Doctor." ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Kiriko tugged at a tress of silvery hair, letting it slip from his fingertips. June's wore impatience well, veiled only by an air of professionalism. His grin loosened a moment. "I trust you're looking after yourself. We're always quite busy, aren't we?" There was a hint of kindness in his voice. Sincerity.

⠀⠀⠀"And I imagine your patient is doing well?" He idly sipped his tea as if to better disguise his bitterness. "Are we still playing house, Doctor Ross?"

[doctorhazama]

046.   the back of a taxi stuck in traffic .

Black Jack kept his eyes fixed on the view outside the taxi window, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the infamous Doctor of Death seated beside him. He focused instead on the blur of passing streetlights, cars, and unfamiliar faces—anything to avoid conversation.

Normally, he couldn’t stand being anywhere near someone like Kiriko, but tonight, he had no choice. He resolved to stay civil.

With a sigh, he felt the need for something to take the edge off. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a box of cigarettes and slid one out. He would’ve preferred something stronger, like his pipe, but this would have to do.

He patted his pockets again, searching for his lighter.

It wasn’t there.

Had he dropped it? Lost it?

Just as he was about to give up, he remembered—Kiriko smoked.

Resigned to breaking the silence, Black Jack finally turned to him.

“Would you happen to have a light?”

[kirikosensei]

⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝕶𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖐𝖔 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉, grinning. "For you?"

⠀⠀⠀His Colibri Molectric 88 emerged from his breast pocket. Its silver embossed surface reflected back the full spectrum of traffic lights and red blinkers. "Anything, my friend." He meant it.

⠀⠀⠀He flipped the top open. A bright flame stood in its wake, fluttering slightly against Kiriko's breath. He considered bringing the lighter to Kuroo's cigarette, but where's the fun in that? Kiriko tenderly cradled the doctor's occipital, guiding his head to the flame. The end of his cigarette crackled as it took fire.

⠀⠀⠀He bit back the impulse to comment on Black Jack's sudden obedience. He ought not to punish good behavior after all.

[kirikosensei]

004.   a dark bus stop lit only by street lights .

⬩ ⬩ ⬩ 𝕾𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉. The harsh street lamp light bounced off each flake. Wailing still rung in his ears. The sound of grieving children huddled over their father — lifeless, serene. A pale sheen had frosted his skin, the remaining evidence of a painful battle against death. We could have prevented that. The Death Doctor sighed to himself alone, opting for restraint this time.

⠀⠀⠀"Good work, Doctor."

⠀⠀⠀Black Jack stewed beside him, lost in thought and maybe hopefully some sort of regret. Kiriko's cigarette case felt frigid even through his thick leather gloves. End-stage nephritis; three failed transplants, years spent in agony, countless invasive procedures. He took a cigarette to his lips. The patient's tormented groaning replayed in his mind. I don't know what he was expecting.

⠀⠀⠀Kiriko's gaze fell upon the surgeon's shoulders. Snowflakes dissolved into black wool fibers. He resisted the urge to brush off the rest. A lighter sparked twice. Smoke convened with the snow, a familiar dance between black and white.

⠀⠀⠀"I wasn't being facetious, in case that wasn't clear." He nudged Black Jack with his elbow.