``I DECIDE THE TRUTH!

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐝?

[lokifell]

𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐎 𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐘 𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐈 ✮ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝟓: 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋

presents himself as a pleasant && charismatic youth with something of a born gift for sleuthing. i’ve got 99 problems but being a fake ass bitch ain’t one.

when you hit rock bottom there’s no way to go but up! “you underestimate me. i brought my shovel and I’m ready to dig.”

he’s a straight shooter && avid ace at darts, compliments of being a trained hitman.

“i thought I heard something about delicious pancakes?” how to literally out yourself over breakfast, a novel by 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐨 𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐢.

Aw Little Guy!!! Oh He’s A Little Bit Fucked Up Actually.

aesthetic: smooth classical && jazz accompanied by hardcore violence.

furthermore, he is cited by sumire yoshizawa personally as ‘a ruthless sort of person.’

anything you can do i can do better, i can do anything better than you! 

“my skills exceed yours!”

please get him therapy that isn’t maruki.

“PEEERRSOONAAAAAA!”

borderline personality disorder much, sir?

looks like a cinnamon roll, will actually kill you.

“pancakes… i don’t want to hear that word again for a long, long time.”

“you can’t just casually mention you’ve technically died once” i can actually. it’s funny.

tldr; he’s actually very tired.

[lokifell]

maskerade festival // goro akechi

to be fair- it's been long since he's indulged the more childish sides of himself and without the need to carry on by means of an alter ego, akechi has taken to more of less adorning in something simple yet strikingly elegant with a lean towards loki for the celebratory season.

with the power of candies he’s more of the appearance to his original prince attire albeit with a sleek black palette adorned in corvid style feather accentuations and a gold plated mask.

his sabre is an intricate proplica that can mimic the appearance and light effects of the most real thing well enough. friendly fire with his trusted bb gun comes free of charge.

although his chosen activities are limited to the heckin' halloween hunt and ghoulishly good ghost hunting mostly, he’s offered his hand at helping the  theatre of calliope via you’re theatre kidding me in a number of stage acts. he may be inclined to attend the monster mash however only should someone ask. he can primarily be found partaking in the menacing monster massacre otherwise.

capping at 2 for now! please feel free to specify a certain event if you’d prefer it over something random!

[qualityshitpostarchives-deactiv]

pancake prince nsfw ver preview here

[criedforme]

first base is me telling you I want to die

[akimbod]

Akechi doodle

[longestnight]

my blade (and i can promise you this) will cut red and hot onto the hallowed earth. i will stain snow with sacred fury which digs sharp claws into your skin, father. yours will be the thrashing body angels' burning eyes will fall upon, yours will be the name erased. and finally, mine will be the hands, mine will be the belt, and mine will be the fire that puts it to rest.

[thievingtrickster]

@lokifell​

He wasn’t the type to believe in ghosts. Manifestations of the soul, the metaverse.. sure he could believe that, but ghosts? Absurd.. Then again, maybe he should rethink that belief. 

The Eclipse in the sky upon his arrival was the least of his concerns.

His first night of sleep was filled with uneasy rest. Eyes stayed open as the light from the window and the moon light illuminates his room through the blinds, once again bars surrounded him though this prison was larger than the last.

He pats down his pockets,  relief feeling the memento that sat in his pocket. At least there’s that. Restless. Uncomfortable. He sits up, and hopes to clear his head with the help of fresh air.

It’s not like Morgana was here to tell him to get some sleep.

The streets are quiet , and despite the time of night, there’s a few night owls wandering through. Eyes down,head low, a habit that hasn’t been shaken off, and yet it’s proven to be a magnet for running into people in the most uncomfortable ways.

“Oh I’m sorry-”

He begins the apology, and lifts his head.

Perhaps he truly has seen a ghost, or maybe history was repeating itself.

“Akechi..” A sense of dread at that implication, and yet relief at the face he’s hoped to see again be in another life or by the off chance that maybe just maybe-

“You’re alive?”

[lokifell]

darkness ever looms with the pinpricks of light a sullen mockery almost tucked like sickened intention behind lofty astral veil. phenomenal cosmic power of the island stars themselves or so those who’ve yet to even boast being touched by a mere sliver of the same hope they could possibly chase if freed from the clutches of lowest spiral city in sunken depths say. he couldn’t care less for the eclipse as those who unintentionally go, vanish without so much as a trace in the way they once came. the familiarity of one face from his time was well enough.

deft shuffling of hands ensues one decrepit alleyway over masked by voices joined in secretive chorus. even on the safety of the surface, here, the trash finds some way to converge && coexist. had it not been for the ‘deal’ going down perhaps he’d have turned haughty raise of chin elsewhere. needless to say, instinct remains ever a hungry && palatable thing when those met with the sudden uncertainty of demise merely turned up again. he thinks to pay the wayward wanderer no mind ( the idiot bumped into him, after all ) until the trickle of an apology grasps at an something ugly he thought had been once put down rightfully so.

form prickles, stiffens && remains unmoving save the faintest twitch that reaches the cusp of shoulders. even now, you say my name as if it was the most normal concept in the world we would have forsaken. finally, the sleek ravenette curve of a gloved hand settles ‘pon hip && head dips as if the sudden coax of shaggy strands across the familiarity of his own features would somehow shade him in all semblance of existence && warped feeling. how childish. such a petulant thing to be.

❝ hn. given all way && possible workings of our captors capabilities, yes unfortunately. it certainly seems so. although i suppose that depends on what you mean by alive. don’t seem very accustomed just yet. must be new here after all. took you long enough. ❞

[ico-ovo]

Justice

[satanafell]

@lokifell​ SURPRISE MOTHER FUCKA

Striations of inlaid guidance across the trains railing flickered as doors pried apart in feral hiss welcoming all who’d dare cross its threshold. The supple ever so melancholic sound of muted silence danced with the rumble of the local train. Despite the presence of several bodies crammed into the midday train easing isolations desolate hand the trip is calm and serene. Akira should have known better than to book it at this time yet excitement prodded his actions. 

Swelling of elation and forlorn affections stung his chest upon precipice of a years distance. Enthusiasm to see those he cared for and the bittersweet absence of another. Yet, charismatic buzz in his pocket signals that his contact had made it to the train depot snapping him from his thoughts. Perchance he should have brought confections from home, but heel was too ready to take leave. Perhaps mochi from the stalls outside– or some chocolates for Ann? Methodical course plotted and guise set upon that new budding life that he miserly quelled hopes for beforehand.

Purchase in hand, and desire to surprise those who impacted him blindingly so coax dark gaze upon mobile screen. A pause thumb hovering hesitantly before it swipes unlocking and guiding illuminated screen hoping to glimpse his plan in action. Yet group chat does settle in silence and pulse flutters before he nearly gets pushed over by a rather large man. 

Spectacles are adjusted as ire waxes and wanes akin to the flowing waves. However while hand adjusts faux frames glint of chestnut crushes atmosphere into slowed silence. Dissonance in the universe had to play horrible tricks and all tune retreated as he watches that ghost pass before him. Confectionaries fall to the ground unceremoniously and bags contents spill to the floor, alas delights are forgotten as racing hand reaches for tanned coat tails aghast with grief he tugs. Akechi? Mind blanks in confusion and distraught desire. This had to be some trick didn’t it? But fate be damned and soul mended. There was no mistaking that face when visage matches pallid features.

❝I thought you were dead? Why– why didn’t you contact me?❞

[lokifell]

six months- six fucking months of every has been && what-if withering away behind minted white walls with whatever glimpse the equally hopeless stretch of makeshift bars built into seemingly seamless slabs almost tauntingly offered. when last they had seen him ( worthlessly wrought ) within the fetters of finality where sworn sentiment passed from crow to the fool / we aren’t so different, you and i. even after everything. even now. in faintest last he made akira swear.

put an end to it. finish that bastard && let the wayward son rest in pieces. if only it were that easy. since when did any of them get what they wanted, let alone the poor pathetic puppet who played unwilling pawn to the tyrannical shit-stain of his father who mercilessly upstaged society from the shadows? if this was penance then let it be well deserved. all semblance of first day to ( almost ) freely roam beyond his self induced incarceration via purgatorial rehab with whispers of eminent corrections still well underway && he’s being monitored down to the very last breath just as expected. 

correctional figures filter in && out of rear vision, following intrusively close at every whipping end of coattail && the chill of winter none too far behind. how infuriating yet ironic, perhaps now he knows how a certain band of thieving brigands felt with the once renown detective prince at his facsimile justice biased prime posing fervent chase feels but given the turnabout- that was neither here nor there now. just when reprieve affords itself an almost breathable moment some commotion caused by his lackadaisical agents centers puts him at the center of some stupid conflict. of course. 

not like he seriously supposed he’d be getting around to that freshly in-house brewed, brimming cup of coffee he’s only been craving since waking behind bars for as long as what bullet holes still riddle his memory in what little he actually remembers any time soon. tch. what a pain in the ass. sorely swift of mind to pry off the hand that snares just until heels dig && he’s forced to turn. 

ah... you. the rebel soul && grey gaze of sacrilege himself. you, the boy who hid all truth of himself behind cloyed frames && unjust lenses. you, schoolboy simpleton, coffee && curry connoisseur. you, a once worthy rival. it just had to be you of all people.

fate truly was some grand fuckery. he manages well enough despite all semblance of bustling cityscape around them melding to a dissonant pause with narrowed crimson gaze bore into the phantom of god-torn world past, like a ghost. irrefutable as he was haunting. bile rises against the spindle of his throat as inquiries are posed && exhaustion exerts within singular sigh. how fortunate for kurusu that he's learned to reign in the entirety of anger && cruelty to some extent during his extended stay in captivity even should the coming of words that follows still maintain the air of displeasure that was so expectedly him.

❝ and what? ruin your perfect life with your precious friends after everything? you know damn well things were, as they say, better off this way. consider it my final act of mercy for what i've put you through. satisfied then? i hope so- because you're the only one to know i've nothing more to possibly give, akira. ❞

[cherbunart]

more akechi. i love him

[metamorphesque]

— Mieko Kawakami, Breasts and Eggs

[clubdionysius]

@lokifell​

“that looks really hard.” Pandora’s been watching and trying to keep up with his speed of reading whatever book he was reading. It looks COMPLICATED. From what she could read at least she didn’t understand any of it. 

“Are you in school?” Pinkish red hues moves from the book to meet the other, “What kind of book is it? I’ve never seen numbers like these before.” Her brain hurt just looking at them. Sheesh. 

[lokifell]

the crinkle of old text && spine timeworn perhaps something of serene solace since all predetermined ‘arrival’ within the bowels of the cityscape. the library itself was one of select few locations he frequented if not for that ever fleeting familiarity but for the sake of keeping oneself sharply honed. on the surface it was just as normal a world as any. the island residents went about their inconsequential little lives endearingly oblivious to the bigger plan while someone watches on as they overturn like meek little mice in a maze.

the very last thing he intends to do is allow himself some belief that the island was any better, studies safely kept as any closeness of potential enemy. a pause as inquiry is posed && he peers just over the cusp of book && turn of pages to better ascertain the truth she sought. why a child was left to wander on her own remains another wonder in itself.

❝ oh, yes. most my age are still in high school you see. as for these numerical values, i would be impressed if you could solve them, astounded even, as they are at least ten years your educational advancement i am almost certain. are you alone? i don’t see children unaccompanied here so often. ❞

[swordofdeath]

starter - @lokifell​ 

Not needing to use her wooden sword, Unohana just pummeled around five men trying to rob her. They all suffered bruises and fractures for messing with the shinigami around her early arrival. The time where she was supposed not to be seen by humans was stilly a mystery of how the ‘stars’ made them visible to anyone.

One of the thugs approached to her and attempting to stab Unohana but was neutralized by breaking his arm that it won’t be cured easily. They all ran away after, marking revenge.

“I hope you aren’t one of them.” She had her attention to the other one. She only hoped this one isn’t a member of those local goons…

If this guy is, self-defense is a must and it will be in a brutal way.

[lokifell]

huh, well isn’t that intriguing. needless to say the city crawled to the teeming seams within it’s own sweltering filth && while the island stars may be nowhere near as corrupt in terms of high societal standards it isn’t as if crime is an uncommon feat or acquired knowledge. quite possibly the furthest from, in all actuality. of course the deeds most dastardly were almost charismatically kept to the worst wards in terms of tasteless dealings && rumors. fibonacci is no exception.

this scuffle of sorts holds no bearing in terms of significance however he couldn’t rightly help such an opportunity. these goons were carrying something of considerable value && should they pave way to their own chaotic interlude who was he to interfere? more so, he finds the scene itself a subject of interest over anything else. an eerie, almost pale figure obscures a majority of the receding alleyway view where the receding figures fast to flee eventually dim into nonexistence. good riddance. 

with risen brow he thinks it only proper to introduce himself. therein lies no association between such casual pleasantries && the despicable trash that just as soon fled, after all. he would just as soon have beaten them within all inch of their worthless lives himself.

❝ ah, me? not quite. they’ve actually been troubling some of the locals for a while it seems && as is, i had merely been passing by. not that you seem incapable in the slightest. i suppose i’d be better asking if your assailants were all the more wisely acclimated to their life choices after threatening a woman but no one will pay them right of mind regardless. ❞

[nymphomanik]

goro being so sleek and polished while having a childish and spoiled side is sooooo cute i love it soooo much 🥺

[podencos]

I’m astounded every single time I remember that I have the ability to do whatever I want with my life

[katistry]

i refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.       ↳ @animangacreators alphabet challenge (1/26): Akechi Goro

[lokifell]

bimeval​:

 Sukuna ceased his mindless prodding of the food in front of him and reached for a bottle of sake as his accomplice spoke. A hum slid up his throat and into the lip of the drink, and he tapped a nonsense melody along the body of the glass with his fingers. Lowering it, he leaned his head into his hand, contemplative. “Hmph…”

“Humans have cursed death since they learned how to think. Be it a Grim Reaper or some other caricature, there are enough curses to give it form, even in a place like this. That being said…” His tapping stopped. “… Perhaps we simply looked for the wrong thing. The Reaper, Izanami-no-Mikoto… death bears different forms to different people. What we sought was the caricature of the Grim Reaper, not the caricature of death.” Lazily, red eyes slid sideways, appraising his partner’s reaction. “Tell me, what does death look like to you?”

humans are, for all their skinned worth, mere feeble creatures in terms of the food chain after all. there is dawning sickness in the fact that some form of ‘god’ sought to enkindle the rage of his childish heart cast within corrosive iron. but no bird could hope to sing when eternally confined to their cage. && the mere mention of death alone tied in near sickeningly seamless manner almost begs absolution in only the most distasteful solution. ah, her most anticipated lady laying in wait. they say she descends in the softness of final hour && takes you by the hand but all he can recall are sirens screaming in the aftermath of metallic shudder falling; the last curtain call laid to rest in the scatter of empty shell casings. the cold echo of a fired gun.

until the noose around his mother’s neck runneth red. his childlike world awash in crimson regret && betrayed wonder the only thing he could truly see. he sees no need to feign discomfort when all semblance of exhaustion has long since sharpened once deceptively softened features into the predatorial hunger that built graveyards in his gouged out eyes && sunken all hope within. what a shitty world to have been born into. if he’s one thing to thank their captors for it was the resolve to fight forward. the downturn of lips in singular sign of discontent the only notion given nonetheless. ‘his’ puppet to the very end. how pathetic.

❝ a symphony of gunfire, the ghost of a lone bullet brushing just along the seams of my heart. sworn oath in promise && bloodshed regrets. once upon a time there was nothing i wouldn’t do for my revenge. neither a moment i care to revisit or endure ever again. ❞