OF GOD @kishou-san - Tumblr Blog

Posts

Yo this is mod link. I’m not good at dealing with stuff like this and I don’t have much to say, so just consider all of these blogs independent until further notice.

#ooc

serutee:

@kishou-san

Really, she had been minding her own business– especially this time. She wasn’t even speeding, or causing any sort of mess with her line of work. Celty had only been walking down the street, trying to get from one place to another. So, why was she running?

Only moments prior, she had sensed a few presences, as well as a disturbance between them all. One in particular was quite chilling for some reason, and Celty had crossed the street in order to avoid whatever altercation was unfolding nearby. She didn’t want any trouble, even if she heard the word ‘investigator’ from a distance. Assuming it was the police, Celty’s desire to get away from the scene only strengthened. So, she naturally began to move faster.

Yet, that only seemed to draw attention to her, as she suddenly heard foot steps behind her.

Oh, great.

Now, she was running, not even sure who or what it was she was fleeing from– all that mattered was getting away from here.

Arima had a pure white coat. The same one which her beloved wore. However, he was nothing like a doctor, even a back alley doctor that only dealt in criminals and low lives. Still, there was something oddly poetic in the contrast of their two shapes as his pure white self chased after her pitch black.

A normal human may never have been able to catch up to Celty but he did not consider himself human at all. Neither of them knew this about the other, but they were both gods of death in a way. Following a simple tip about a ghoul wearing a cat ear mask, Arima located her in this ward.

Then, without any mercy at all he drew forth his quinque. The moment he caught up he suddenly sped up further and with one stroke aimed directly for her neck. He reappeared standing ahead of her, Ixa drawn and pointed at the ground. Her helmet fell off a moment later.

“...”

#serutee

bubonem:

The moment Arima turned his face, Eto moved. She stood upright once again, still smirking as she took one step forward, then another.

“Everything must end, yes, it’s simply a matter of how.”

She chuckled, easily side stepping the Reaper due to their difference in size.

“A dragon or a phoenix, hm? Ehe…”

“I suppose I’d rather be a phoenix, if I really had to choose. It would be the best of both worlds, to enjoy death and life over and over.”

Eto tilted her head upwards, meeting Arima’s eye.

“It would certainly lead to interesting results, don’t you think?”

“Everything must end, that’s the most comforting fact for us all don’t you think? Being born again just prolongs your suffering, you’ll only live on to hurt more people.”

Arima stood over her for a moment even bending to get uncomfortably close.

He picked up the copy of her book he had been holding and placed it in front of her. He opened the front cover and revealed a blank space, and then a moment later fetched a pen from the front pocket of his suit.

“Would you sign your book for me? That’s what I wanted to ask you for. Sign it to your dear lost one.” Arima leaned back and pushed up his glasses again. “I really envy them, the characters in your books. None of the major named ones ever make it to the end.”

#bubonem

bubonem:

“It’s because of your white hair,” Eto stated, surprisingly bluntly. “… And, because you act like one, obviously.”

Though, who was she to talk?

She shrugged, still smirking, as she leaned against the book case behind her. If Arima was going to stand over her like this, she supposed she might as well make herself comfortable.

Eto chuckled.

“I suppose I have to agree with you on that. There are few things as disappointing as series that don’t end when they ought to. It often leads to subpar endings.”

“Yes. To avoid endings is to prolong the inevitable. Everything must end.”

Arima mused for a moment, turning his face away from the whole world. He wondered what he was getting at. No matter how much he antagonized her, the owl would not kill him because she was not strong enough, and Haise was still not ready.

Perhaps he was just impatient, because this city had stolen away the peace he thought he finally could have.

“Only things like dragons and phoenixes live forever you know. Dragons are immortal and phoenixes die and are reborn. It’s too bad I’m neither one of those. Which one would you rather be?”

#bubonem

bubonem:

“It’s a matter of aesthetic.” That was a lie, but she still smirked, not missing Arima’s particular quip. “They make me look more mature.”

Getting mistaken for a high schooler, if not younger, got old after a while. Though, she knew Arima would never understand such a sentiment, not with his size.

“Your son?” She echoed, her tone and subsequent chuckling dripping with cruelty, as if she found the statement particularly hilarious. “I see, I see… well, he still reads my books after all, just like you.”

“Everyone’s entitled to their own opinions. I’d rather be faced with genuine criticism than superficial praise.”

“After all, how else can an author improve?”

“Ah, we’ll I’m the same.”

In more ways than either of them could possibly imagine. He reached up and readjusted his glasses, the first of any kind of facial movement he had made the entire conversation. When he looked back at her both his eyes and his expression remained blank.

“I get confused for an old man all the time. I find it difficult to correct them though, for some reason.”

He continued to look down at her. He wondered how far the differences in her performance went. Was Eto watching him in the stands, while a lady named Takatsuki performed on stage. Was she laughing in some hollowed out theatre in her mind at this scene?

“Here’s my criticism then. Long running series become dead after a while. It’s best to end things quickly before they rot from the inside out.”

#bubonem

bubonem:

Eto suddenly snickered, soon letting out a soft bout of pure, genuine laughter. She smiled at the reaper, too, just as genuine as her giggling.

Really, the two of them certainly had a horrible sense of humor.

“That’s quite amusing coming from someone who needs glasses.”

Oh, the irony.

“Ahaha… Is that so? I’m honored. Kafka’s my favorite, you know, so I can’t help but take such a compliment in stride.”

“Don’t you wear glasses yourself, Takatsuki-sensei? What happened, did you receive an eye injury when you were younger?”

Without any hesitation he brought up one of the times he had gauged out her eyes with Ixa. He always seemed fond of striking in the eye, perhaps it was a manifestation of some deeply hidden complex about his own fading vision.

Ah, that was right he could hardly see letters on the pages anymore. Perhaps in another lifetime he would do something so stupid as ask if Takatsuki would read to him even after he went blind.

Instead, he said something petty. “You know, my son hates your books. He especially hates how all of the major and named characters die at the end. He has quite the negative impression of you as an author because of that.”

#bubonem

sanicura:

Unexpected, not because he did not anticipate his mentor’s support, but because he did not anticipate him to be as outspoken to the upper echelon. It had been years, still Haise was undoubtedly prejudiced against. Still seen as the underdog for whichever reason, and it didn’t help that his sole, vocal supporter happened to be Arima (as far as the leaders were concerned). There was only one person he found himself responsible for during this time, Urie, and even then, Urie was free to do whatever he desired without complete supervision.

❛ You have my word. I will take full responsibility for both. It’s important to me that we’re able to deal with this issue before they strike again–and I have a feeling that it will be soon. It’s been far too long since I lost contact with my lead. ❜

Arima was a great oak rooted to the ground. The only time he would ever be free to move from his spot, is if a great wind came to break him in half. Just like any other book he pondered the situation in metaphor with little connection to the reality rather than face it directly. Distant, was a word to describe Arima Kishou. He kept his distance from Haise always keeping his true feelings concealed and at the same time he was keeping Haise so close to him.

He stared at the superiors who might as well have been faceless to him. Haise might have seen him as somebody with authority, but really he too was under their thumbs just as much as Haise. He could have given him so much more, but really this passive resistance was all he had. “Even if executives in their organization go quiet, as long as the one eyed king persists than Aogiri will too. Do you have any leads on that avenue?” He lowered his head and closed his eyes. “The situation might be more complicated than you assume, the other day I received reported sightings of the one eyed owl for the first time in years.”

#sanicura

bubonem:

Oh, now there was an interesting reaction. The author, in turn, didn’t react so suddenly as Arima did. Instead, she remained still, smiling pleasantly and politely as she continued to wear the mask of Takatsuki Sen.

“What about you?” She echoed, finally moving; she tapped her chin in thought with her index finger from her free hand, as if she was genuinely thinking about hat Arima said.

Eto, suddenly, smiled only for Arima Kishou to see in this moment

“If you said that, I’d think you’d have bad taste.”

“That was just a lie. Haise lent me Kafka, because of that I’m quite fond of him.” Arima was still positioned over her, and moved his body so nobody else would see her. He felt like the moon moving to obscure the sun. He had no particular reason for his actions, as usual he was not thinking about what he should do.

A puppet whose strings was cut was still a puppet after all. All he could do was go limp, but that was fine with him.

“I wanted to see any face but that fake smile, so I provoked you on purpose.” Arima sounded sadistic, but the face he was making did not seem to derive any enjoyment from it. “I like to read your books most of all. To me, you’re better than Kafka.”

#bubonem

anarchystoking

Hey guys, today a very devastating volcano eruption took place in my country, we are used to volcano activity but it has not been this bad in over a century. Today several families died and some others managed to ran out of their houses covered in ashes and sand trying to not get caught by the lava. Roads were destroyed and even our beautiful Antigua Guatemala had to be evacuated due safety reasons. Our airport closed.

There’s several homeless people and missing ones. At this moment I don’t know if they’ve opened for international donations, so right now I ask you keep Guatemala & guatemalans in your thoughts and your prayers.

anarchystoking

30 people have been officially declared dead so far and the numbers are expected to increase as there were numbers of families going missing under the lava, ashes and dust. 1,7 million people were affected and 50 people are in hospitals with 2nd and 3rd degree burns, many of the affected are children.

Please help if you’re able by donating to the following link. We really need it as entire towns and millions ended up with nothing after the disaster.

https://www.gofundme.com/guatevolcano2018

I would appreciate if you could signal boost it.

bubonem:

The author shrugged.

“If they were capable of being boring, then they probably wouldn’t be regarded as classics.”

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, focusing in on him easily. To anyone watching, it would have been nothing more than a simple conversation between acquaintances. After all, what would an investigator and an author have to discuss?

“Of course they don’t change, but I’ve read enough of Kafka’s work to find new inspiration from his words almost every time.”

“Stomp over– that’s a bit too harsh. I prefer to look at them as stepping stones to gently and respectfully use. If you’re not careful, though, you really might fall into a river and drown.”

She chuckled, as if she had told a funny joke.

“What about me?”

Arima’s expression changed. He moved and loomed over her. Using his size he put an arm against the bookshelf and leaned forward. The quiet man contemplating books seemed to disappear in an instant as he made clear the difference in their size.

“What do you think about it... my taste in books...”

His eyes seemed like the only visible part of his face. They were the only part that ever seemed to move. Now they were straining to see the person in front of him. They both wore glasses, he wondered if Eto’s were necessary, if her body was rotting.

“Judge me a little bit. What would you do if I said I didn’t like Kafka.”

#bubonem

bubonem:

The author laughed, perhaps if only because she had a similarly terrible sense of humor as the man before her.

“My, my, to think that my words could do such a thing.”

She laughed again, softly of course, so that only the two of them would hear it.

“Drown myself? Ufufu…”

She couldn’t help but chuckle once more at that comment, really, it was just too amusing.

“If you’re that keen to know, I don’t mind sharing. A friend of mine has recommended the works of Nakajima and Kunikada.”

Eto’s smile widened.

“I’m really just a sucker for the classics, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t you think the classics get a little stale after awhile?”

Arima asked, his expression saddening. Sad by his standards though was a blank white piece of paper by everyone else’s. He could not feel things for himself, but he at least could experience some emotion vicariously through books. He wondered if Takatsuki felt the same way, or if it was merely a distraction for her.

“They can’t change even after hundreds of years.”

They were like gravestones for the thoughts of their authors. Even in books all he could think of was death. Even in an enjoyable conversation, he was bringing in his own melancholy. Arima thought as much, but none of that showed on his face, he only looked ponderously to the side.

“I heard your writing tends to be more subversive than that. The only way to leave some change is to stomp over the classics.”

#bubonem

bubonem:

Her eyebrow twitched, but only for a fraction of a second– it was only a movement that someone of the two hybrids’ caliber would have noticed.

“A classic,” Takatsuki Sen nodded.

The author’s smile, which had not faltered, widened just a bit, almost as if she was amused by something.

“Of course, it’s a particularly inspiring line.”

“Have you been reading any other classics lately? How about other works from Dazai?”

She leaned in, ever so slightly; whether Eto was prodding for information for her own amusement, or to keep up a farce, was anyone’s guess.

“This is just turning into an interrogation. Are you going to torture me for the answers?”

Arima said, his sense of humor terrible as ever. There was a reason why he could not tell jokes as well as little Furuta.

“What I read is of little consequence. I want to hear your thoughts. You’re the author who inspires me after all.”

He said it so clearly and with such confidence it almost seemed true. There was no discerning it though, as he spun his words with no emotion at all. He barely even seemed to be looking at her, as eye contact was impossible when she was nothing more than a green blur.

He loomed over, making it clear he was not going away.

“I don’t think you should just read Dazai, otherwise you might want to drown yourself with him. So, what else do you read?”

#bubonem

bubonem:

Were it not for the small crowd that was centered around the tiny author, Eto’s face would have fallen. She was annoyed, though the only person who might have noticed was Arima Kishou.

“Oh, how flattering of you to say.”

The role of Takatsuki-sensei was far too easy by now, as was dismissing those that were clamoring for an autograph; a few swipes of her pen and they were (mostly) dispersed back into the store.

“Actually, if you’re looking for a recommendation, I happen to be picking up a book for a friend today.” She lifted up the book in her hand, to give the illusion that the Reaper would read its cover which read, ‘The Complete Manual of Suicide’. “Though, I would love to hear what you’ve been reading lately, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Osamu Dazai, the setting sun.”

While it sounded like he was saying that just to mock her, that truly was the book that Arima Kishou had read last. He remembered the vivid descriptions, of snakes appearing within people as signs of their own mortality.

He didn’t see Eto as a snake, or even himself as one. However, there were definitely snakes crawling underneath their skin.

It must be why he heard hissing when he approached her. Snakes feared even their own kind, they couldn’t get along with anything. God had cursed them for messing with Eden, their only destiny was to have their heads stomped off.

He thought such poetic things but made no change in his expression. Nor didhe even seem to be paying much attention to the world around him. “I like the quote -humans were born for love and revolution. Don’t you agree with it?”

#bubonem

sanicura:

@kishou-san

Months had gone by with little in the way of progress, soon reaching a stalemate. His previous lead, Naki, had gone missing quite some time ago. To make an appeal to the doves for an extension could have potentially been a risky move, putting his credibility as a detective on the line, but Haise cared more for the safety of those who may have been exposed to the dangers of the city’s underground. As such, before a small board of officers, the half-ghoul addressed them with a fervor–keeping his eyes locked on his mentor, Arima, throughout.

❛ Please, you have to allow us another chance at finding Aogiri Tree. We know that they exist, and believe that they are in direct alignment with the White Suits. We have had leads in the past, whether they have since tapered off. For the safety of our colleagues–and the residents of Hive City, I humbly request that we keep this operation opened. ❜

Arima rarely maintained eye contact with others. Since his time in the garden, he had been taught, no conditioned to keep his head down. It started to look like he was not acknowledging them, but in reality he knew he was hiding from them. There was only one person who kept his eye nowadays. His full attention was trained on Haise, listening to the details of missions reports. He accepted all of them without thinking.

“I put my support behind Haise’s plan. There’s no leaving the Aogiri tree alone, this won’t end until they’re fully exterminated.” As usual there was no mercy or leniency present in Arima’s words. However, his acknowledgement would come with a cost. He wanted to test it, his months of effort and work. All that time he had been looking at Haise with his slowly dying eyes. He wanted to see before the light went out of them entirely. “Haise, you should take full repsonsibility for this operation though. For both it’s successes and failures. The time will eventually come where I can’t cover for you.”

#sanicura

bubonem-archive-blog

@kishou-san

Perusing her favorite library, the author assumed that she could find a moment of peace. However, the towering figure with white hair that soon took up her peripheral vision was enough to make her frown. She had no desire to see or speak to the man, so she quickly turned to make an exit.

… Or, she would have, had a woman not stopped her with an annoying screech; “Oh my gosh, aren’t you the Takatsuki-sensei?!”

Putting on the polite smile of Takatsuki Sen was easy, as was as placating a fan; the sudden attention, however, was not welcome.

kishou-san

“Takatsuki-sensei, I’m honored for the chance to get to meet you a second time in this city.” Arima said, bowing his head politely as he held a book to his chest. There was something almost precious and innocent about him. All of the threatening aura he commanded when he usually interacted with Eto was gone in a second, and without that his existence was entirely empty.

He was clinging to the books. They were a fun distraction. He was not sure what else to fill his time with in this city beyond those and hollow echoes of the past.

“What book did you purchase today, I’m curious. Do you have any recommendations for a stalwart fan like myself? I’m not good at defining what my own taste in literature is quite yet, I mostly read books recommended by others.”

#bubonem

firstclassihei:

Hairu opened her mouth to speak, but could only stare forward in shock, her mouth agape.

If he had been sad, then she would have probably known how to feel– at least, that was what she assumed. She knew Ui was said, and that made her sad as well as guilty. But nothing, nothing at all… what could she even say to that?

Hairu blinked, and once again blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“Did you ever feel anything at all for me? For any of us?”

“In the garden, you were… to all of us, we just wanted…”

A murderer.

The word made her stop in both her words and thoughts, and once more she could only stare blankly ahead.

“A…?” A murderer, a monster.

“Hairu!”

Arima called out, his voice sharp.

Even though he did not want to, he knew how perfectly to tug at the strings of others in order to resolve this situation without having to make any admission on his own. As he caught his reflection in his shut off computer screen, he could see himself warping to look more like that detestable owl.

“Are you sure Ui will be happy about this? You, sitting in my office, begging for my attention again.”

Arima sighed.

“I really thought you would be happy with just Ui. I hope you don’t make him feel inferior again.”

#firstclassihei

firstclassihei:

“It’s–!” She hissed, sucking in breath as she cried.

Hairu paused, only because Arima had touched her, and the notion was still so foreign, so bygone, that she could not see anything else for a moment between her tears. It was enough to make her consider what she was saying, what she was doing. The tension she had minutes ago left her, and if it were not for Arima’s touch, she might have just as easily crumpled onto the floor.

“Nothing…”

“I don’t want to do– nothing…”

Doing nothing would not comfort her; but, what could she do? What options did she have?

“I feel like… it was my fault, that I died– because, Koori was…” She looked down, unable to face him. “Koori was sad, he’s still sad. Are you sad, too?”

“I don’t feel anything at all.”

Arima said as he removed his hands form her. The puppets strings might as well be cut at that moment, he had no idea how to lead her along any further, whether to comfort her or condemn her.

All Arima Kishou was capable of doing for himself and others was nothing. He was only good at being a piece for others to move along, and he had not once in his life challenged himself outside of that role. Even Eto merely used him as another piece, his great betrayal was handing the marionette’s cords to someone else.

He stood there stock still, looking more like a floating ghost than a man.

“There’s nothing to mourn when a murderer dies.”

He had not meant to be so honest. Oh well. The sight of such emotion in front of him had shaken him enough to cause a slip of the tongue, though he doubted Hairu would be able to read his current self as shaken.

#firstclassihei

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

OF GOD