i don't think that we, as a society, talk enough about the fact that daniel - while STILL HUMAN - one time pinned up armand and kept biting and scratching the skin of his neck, desperatly trying to get the blood to come out but couldn't because he was only human after all
and armand not only ALLOWED him to do so, he also let it for the longest he'd ever had and then GENTLY GUIDE HIM AWAY
These "Soldier Boy" Meeks edits on tiktok are going to send me down a spiral 😔
Like nooo he lived and went on to live with Pitts in a small apartment just fit for two with a cat and an unlimited vinyl collection that they dance to every once in a while?????
His congregation, an amalgamation of filth that he had wrapped around his fingers so extremely they'd die before freeing themselves, choking on the string they'd tighten if they so much as tried, gathered in one room. After sermons, they bow, as they were doing now. Bodies completely folded in with their foreheads touching the hard wood as they mumble praise and prayer.
And as they do this, he lounges. Sitting on his stage, a nice pillow beneath him, his elbow resting on a stool and his cheek against his fist, he does nothing but watch. Nothing but loathe and hate. His eyes flicker around the room with an expression of mild disgust twisting his face up. The non-sorcerers hardly deserve his presence at all but it kept them in line.
Giving a dog a bone does keep it content to follow your commands, after all. This much he understands.
Not one shifts or moves. They never do. Not until he says so. For his word was the only they live by. He looked upon the sea of monkeys, watching the way a few of his curses float through the air above them, but of course they have no idea. They don't see the danger but a few inches away. They don't know that such creatures are their own makings.
It would be easy, Suguru know this, to have them attack and slaughter everyone in front of him. But he doesn't want that yet. He has plans and as pleasant as it would be to hear the screams and cries, to know that he's rid the world of more non-sorcerers, he has to show restraint.
So he watches.
He watches.
And you bow. And you pray.
You can feel the cold floor against your forehead as you offer Master Geto the respect he deserves. His silky voice ricochets around your skull, the words from his sermon like candy fed to you week after week. He's everything to you and the others around that murmur. The chanting is low and you tune most of it out, focused on your own.
Everything that slips passed your lips is filled with honor.
Your admiration for Master Geto is strong. So much so that just thinking about him makes you shiver. As if you're swelling with passion and would soon explode if you didn't release it in precious words. Phrases that shower his name in heaven's light.
You want to see him. To look upon him once more and adore him.
But you're not permitted. You know better.
It's involuntary, when you move, your neck straining as your head lifts just slightly. You drag your eyes across the wooden panels, over the backs of other members, until they reach the edge of his stage. The influx of light makes you squint and just as your vision steadies, the blur fading just in time for you to see him.
You take in the way he's seated, his beautiful robes, that flowing black hair that reminds you of a waterfall tainted by ink. And your eyes don't stop there. Though, as you learn quickly, they should have.
Despite your distance, you can see those big brown eyes locked onto you with such a cold and unrelenting stare. Pinpricks shoot down your spine at your heart flutters violently and you throw your head back down so fast it makes a thud.
Why on earth did you do that? What made you think it was in any way acceptable? You had just disrespected him. But then again... it was worth it to you. Being able to gaze at him just a few seconds more has your body on fire. You tremble, breath catching before it can pour into your lungs.
Suguru can see the way your body shakes. No one else around you is doing do. But no one else had the audacity to raise their heads.
He recognizes you. He thinks. Though he rarely thinks of any of you outside of sermons and the occasional interactions around the land you all live on. Offering any non-sorcerers a fraction of his mind makes him shudder with such violent disgust that he'd rather suck down a curse. None of you were deserving of such a thing.
Suguru had watched, as he does now, the way your eyes trailed up to him. You must think yourself clever, that he wouldn't notice, that he's a foolish man to not feel it. Prying and unwanted.
Filth.
You're so small, curled in on yourself across the room. The uniform you're wearing shrouds your form like a protective cloak. Your hands clench until your nails scrape the wood. He wonders if you're afraid or perhaps a part of you is exited from the thrill. Did you know what he could do to you? Did you think it was funny?
It may be fun to play with that a little.
Suguru clears his throat sharply and it's almost instant when you react just the way he wants. Your body tenses, the trembling pauses, and your head snaps back up to meet his gaze. Slowly, his free hand raises until he's pointing at you. Your heart stops in your chest. It's as if his eyes are wrapping invisible chains around you that tighten as he makes a motion.
Come.
You don't hesitate. Not when it's such a clear order. Glancing down, your knee slides forward and you plant your foot on the floor, pushing off to rise when his throat clears again. Immediately, your eyes are back on him. He's got a look on his face that wasn't there before. His eyebrows have pinched slightly and his finger wags back and forth in disapproval.
What is he trying to say?
Your legs burn from your half standing position as you try to figure it out. Luckily for you, Suguru is a generous man, and he points his finger down. It's no different from the way an owner would order a dog off of their bed. You don't quite understand why that makes it click in your head but in an instant you lower back onto the floor silently. Suguru seems less annoyed and once again motions you forward, a sadistic smile spreading on his lips.
A smile that makes your stomach flip.
Like a pitiful beggar knelt on hands and knees before a dazzling cathedral, making their way through the doors, pulled forward by an unwavering faith, you begin to crawl. Your palms against the floor are cold and silent and the fabric of your uniform helps your aching knees. Though, you have little time to think about the pain when Suguru's eyes refuse to leave yours.
You move slowly, weaving between other followers as they remain in place. Anytime you take a moment of pause, getting lost in the incredible grace of your savior, he motions again. It's scary, and a bit exciting, to wonder just what he has planned for you. You're almost positive a punishment awaits you.
Disobedience is deserving of such an outcome.
But a punishment doesn't strike nearly as much fear into you as it should. Not when you know that it's him who is giving it to you. You fear the pain. Never him.
The murmurs of your fellow followers feel so suffocating that the moment you breach through the front row you feel physical relief from the way it drones behind you. Once you get close to the stage Suguru's hand finally drops and you freeze. He stares down at you for a second, then two, then five, before he hums.
You look so strangely perfect seated before him like this. He's unsure what to compare it to but all he can put together is that he likes it. You're peeking up at him like he's a real god of some kind. Which, to you, he is. He feels nothing towards you besides disgust and a hint of curiosity. And yet you still place yourself there.
The difference between a sacrifice for slaughter and an offering for worship begins to blur in Suguru's mind. If there ever has been much of a difference to him. It's all for a beautiful cause. Necessary genocide for a glorious new world to prevail.
Suguru is... curious. From the moment his eyes caught yours mere minutes ago, he's felt this way. And so it's not all that odd then his hand slips from his lap and gently pats the open space beside him. He wants you to get closer. He wants to see something.
Yet, he has no idea what that something is. That something that's twisting up the space beneath his ribs. Reminding him of the heavy weight that lives there and always has. That's always controlled him since he was a child. His fingers twitch where his hands rest because he want to touch you.
Isn't that silly of him? To want to touch something like you?
You're like a siren climbing from the depths of your filthy sea when you place your hands on his stage and lift yourself up to sit. The followers behind you merge into that dark blue emptiness. But your eyes tell a different tale. Not one of deceit.
One of reverence.
You slide up beside him, not too close, but not too far either. He didn't tell you to do that but deep down you felt it was right. You wanted to take advantage of such proximity. You'd never been so close to him before. Just like most of the followers you were only permitted his presence during sermons and occasionally asking to be blessed and freed from your demons.
He's even more beautiful up close. The lights from around the room illuminate him perfectly, shining off his flowing hair, bringing out the details of his robes. His jaw, his nose, his cheeks, those gauges he wears at all times, your eyes linger on every little bit. This may be your one chance to soak him all up into your soul. Everything about him shimmers with an essence of grace.
Everything except for his eyes.
Melted honey and chocolate swirl in irises that are completely shadowed in a darkness you can't quite grasp. How can they feel so warm yet so threatening? The answer is something only Suguru knows. Curiosity. Intrigue. A fascination towards something he despises.
Your heart continues to thump wildly in your ears but you don't mind it. Not when he's so close. You can't seem to look away now that he's trapped you with his gaze. And it seems that that's exactly what he wants.
Suguru hums to himself as his hand raises and a curse from above the congregation flies over. The corner of his mouth twitches as it drapes itself over your shoulders and he monitors your reaction. You're clearly trying to sit still for him but he sees. He sees the way you squirm at the added weight that you can't see. Do you assume it's merely the anxiety? The tension?
What does your pathetic monkey brain believe?
Now, the real fun begins or him.
You don't break eye contact with his but you can see in your peripheral as his hand comes closer to your face. The sudden pressure on your shoulders and back is frightening but you don't dare speak. Suguru's hand is so close that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin.
Is he going to touch you?
Suguru has never touched another one of the congregation before.
Ever.
It was well known that he preferred his space when possible so certainly it was some kind of test. There would be no real reason for him to find you worth-
His hand connects to your cheek and you think there's a slight chance you'll faint. A shiver rakes down your spine and you flinch but you do your best to remain stationary. He runs his palm down, shaping to your jawbone, then he's cupping your chin. Electricity shoots through your veins until you're practically a live wire in his hold.
Suguru finds it funny. You're trying so hard but yet he can feel the way you tremble in his hold. As his skin brushes over yours he take mental notes. You're soft, and warm, almost reminding him of a little droplet of the sun. And you're pretty. He can't deny that much.
Pretty... and pliant.
His fingertips graze along your cheek until his blunt nails are digging into the skin. It stings but even then you don't move. The most reaction Suguru gets is a shaky breath that slips between your parted lips.
You don't know why he's doing it. But it's not your place to question him. Even when his free hand comes up to join. His long fingers trail from just below your ear, over your racing pulse point, continuing until he's running along the bare skin of your chest. Playfully, they dance over your shirt and along the shape of your body. He stops when his palm is resting on the top of your thigh.
The hand holding your jaw turns your head this way and that. The stretch burns and you wonder if somewhere inside, Suguru is trying to hurt you. Not that you'd mind.
His mind is swimming. The way you're letting him so whatever he wants to you is pathetic but even Suguru finds himself somewhat enjoying what he's doing. Your face is flushed a pretty shade and your breathing is staggered and he can't help but ache to do more.
You're filthy.
And he's happily dirtying his hands with you.
The hand resting on your jaw slides down until it's wrapped snug around your throat and your breath hitches. He gives a warning squeeze and the tiniest whine leaves you. A sound.
He finally pulled a sound out of you.
He can't resist the quirk of his lips. You're so weak. Frail. He's so much more powerful than you in every way, in ways you don't even know. He tugs you forward harshly and watches your pupils dilate in real time.
How far could he push you before it was too much?
Everything starts to mix together in your head and it's leaving you dizzy. His heat, the gentle hold on your throat, the way his nails are poking at your skin, how utterly beautiful he looks looming over you. A few strands of his hair slip over his shoulder and fall down over yours and the final straw is his next squeeze. It's a bit rougher than the previous one, so much so that it's cut your air supply off, and you grab his sleeve in a panic.
It makes a smile peel across his face.
Little does he know, it's not fear that's making you react. You feel so honored to have his hands on you. You can't think straight. All you can see and feel is Suguru.
For the first time, you let a word slip from your mouth, it's quiet, practically a whisper, pitching up a bit from the excitement and lack of air.
"Please?"
Suguru's hand loosens and his brain ceases to function for a second or two. You don't sound scared. Not one bit. But then, that's because you aren't. You haven't been this entire time. He can tell by the way your eyes never leave his, but the way you haven't faltered once, it's pure faith you hold in him.
He puts the pieces together in his head quickly and this time it's a wicked grin he adorns as he pulls you even closer, this time leaning forward himself and shrouding you in his shadow. Those eyes pierce through you, his nose is barely an inch from yours, and you feel all fuzzy.
"Don't tell me... you're begging for more," he mumbles, his deep voice shooting through your clouded mind with such clarity.
A small bit of drool slips from the crease of your lip and you swallow, he can feel the muscles under his palm. You look so pleasing like this. Suguru can't help the twisting in his gut no more than you can help the racing of your heart.
You nod as best you can.
Something in Suguru snaps.
His lips are on yours in an instant. It's deep and sloppy and his hand on your throat is squeezing and you can't do anything but sit and accept his gracious offering. But you like it.
Suguru does too.
And that pisses him off.
His lips move against yours seamlessly and you whimper into him. His lips are warm, all of him is warm, and you melt against his torso without thinking. He welcomes it, the hand on your thigh snakes behind your waist and pulls you flush against him.
He feels the way your filth taints him yet does nothing to stop it. It's disgusting. Like a parasite or a disease latching into his brain. He can't want this. He can't crave you. And yet...
He shudders at the thought.
He'll make up for it later.
And he does.
When he's had his fill and he drags you to follow him out of the room, his hand comes up to cover your eyes and all you hear before the door slams shut behind you is the screams of your fellow members.
He'll atone for indulging in you with their lives. If it means he can play with you a little longer.
losing my mind over edits of hikaru ga shinda natsu that i saw with tyler the creator songs. it just fits so well.
like are we still friends. are they still friends. “are we still friends? can we be friends?” and “hikaru”’s struggle with getting yoshiki to accept it as hikaru, to accept it as his friend, to accept its love, its emotions, while it is still masquerading around with hikaru’s face, talking with hikaru’s voice, acting with hikaru’s body. can it still be friends, can it still be yoshiki’s, if it’s not hikaru? is it still yoshiki’s even if it is not hikaru? are they still friends, despite?
do NOT even get me started on like him. it’s so twisted. like what do you mean. what do you mean. “mama, i’m chasing a ghost, i don’t know who he is, mama, i’m chasing a ghost, i don’t know where he is.” and how yoshiki is so desperately chasing after something, someone, who is no longer with him, no longer in this world. how he does not recognize “hikaru” as his hikaru despite its similarities, despite it being a “perfect copy of him”. he does not know who this “hikaru” is and he does not know where his hikaru is, but he knows. he knows that this is not hikaru. not the hikaru he loves. not the hikaru he yearns for. not the hikaru he wants. he knew from the moment he saw hikaru’s cold corpse that day in the mountains. he knows. yet he will keep chasing the ghost that is hikaru, the remaining traces of hikaru that he has in order to hold on to him just for a little more.
and especially that part in the song where it goes like “do i look like him” like do they just want me to die? like, what do you MEAN. “so, do i look like him?” does “hikaru” look like him? does “hikaru” look like yoshiki’s best friend? does “hikaru” look like the boy he loves? does “hikaru” look like his corpse? does it look like the boy that yoshiki has silently yearned for for years, silently watched from the shadows, silently observed, silently admired, silently loved? does it look like the boy that yoshiki has been friends with ever since they were toddlers, the boy that yoshiki shares more memories with than his family? does it look like the boy that yoshiki has biked with on the village roads across multiple summers? does it look like the boy that yoshiki has gotten sunburns and bruises and scratches and cuts and insect bites with? does it look like the boy that yoshiki has had over at his house so many times that his things are littered across yoshiki’s room, like they belong there? does it look like the boy that yoshiki has eaten popsicles and cheap ice cream cones with under the roof of a shabby, run-down convenience store with? does it look like the boy that yoshiki had confided in about his parents’ regularly scheduled arguments? does it look like the boy that yoshiki had been flustered with and looked away when he revealed just the slightest bit of his skin? does it look like the boy that yoshiki found so headstrong and confident and idiotic yet still so gentle and caring at times? does it look like the boy that yoshiki had grown up with? does it look like the boy that yoshiki had fallen in love with? does it look like the boy that yoshiki had lost? does it look like hikaru?
god one day im gonna die and it will be mokumokuren’s fault.
