Discover Top Posts Tagged with #my guysss

Some days, when Shinya feels particularly lonely—not quite lonely and not quite whole; one single path without a second thread to pull—he goes to the edge of a world and tells the future to dream of gold. Yes, gold on gold on gold. Ichor seeping through the cracks of the world, like falling honey. The sweetest of sunlight. Dappling metal, the hum of not-yet electric light, stained glass bleeding gold between cracks. Golden eyes, a sun's ascent-and-descent, that two-way eternal path across a sky. Shadows that it casts— sunlight and shadow. The stripes of a bee. The iris of spun gold, pupil of darkest black. Together. Charcoal and oranges, under an artist's nails. The outline of light behind a cloud; golden at the edges, soft-light all through it, a dear and darling sight. Silver-soft and golden-down, heaped together to make an outline of a soul.

And— as a balm to his torn-apart heart, tear-away soul: the shaping touch of his wandering hands. A beautiful, deadly little weaving thing takes shape; golden garden and silver spinner and gilded golden silver face and the writing spider. A thread here, a thread there, constructing a larger thing, a web of this-and-that and left-or-right and perfect parallel geometric cycles. Destiny weaves Fate, and fate becomes destiny. One leads to another. Endless threads, endless strings, beautiful little tapestries that are spun of starsong and choice and countless will-happens. Could-happens. Nothing even close to can't-happens, despite how everything likes to pretend.

There is never a can't-happen. Only shouldn't-haves and nearly-nevers and almost-didn'ts.

Take Tsunagu's hand in his (his own soul, their own heart, a pair of seperated still-beating joined paths and hearts) the shadow of a joined thing that echos their footsteps (that could have been them, that should have been us!) that longing, deep and wide and echoing (silver-and-gold, white-and-black, light-and-dark, yes-and-no) it makes them (it unmakes them) in love.

(God falls in love with his own shadow— his shadow falls in love with him. You are born in love; you are born apart.)

That trembling thing underneath Shinya's teeth! How unfair it is, that they cannot be together. Marriage is not nearly close enough, despite what the mortals say. Marrying one to another. How sobering, that they needed to be married. Twins would not be close enough— one-and-one does not make as one. The mother of fate, the father of destiny, one bearing the other and the other bearing one; making each other is all at once not-enough and beautiful and, yet, far less bearable. It becomes a cycle— chasing and chasing, cyclic concentric circles. One leaves into the other. One breathes life into the other.

I make you, you chase me. You make me, I chase you. Two sets of footsteps, going round and round and round. Faster, yet faster still! I take your hand in mine— it all falls apart.

It makes Shinya sick, just to think of it. How dare the world not carve out a space for one. Tsunagu, Tsunagu, Tsunagu. The world races faster just by him thinking about his other. They are conjoined hands (not enough! Not enough!), two working as one (asoneasoneasone), they make the universe (oh, how unfair, that there is a place in the heavens for us!) and they make the rules, that eternal barrier of seperation— what they would each give, to melt into each other so sweetly!

They orbit around each other. They are each other— but not enough, never enough. So often Tsunagu has taken Shinya's throat into his own jaws, claws, and eaten. Sparks of electric silver light come from their joining—for a single second they are one thing, one beautiful endless loop, gold melting into silver and shadows spinning into brightness—and then they fall apart. Tsunagu's beautiful stained-glass eyes dripping; Shinya's heart-rended broken keens. The Pedestal had shaken, that day. All the gods had rushed to their side, scared, concerned, scolding.

Why did you do that? They'd all asked, in their different ways, fretting over the way Shinya's throat was bleeding dripping silver and Tsunagu's eyes were crying, weeping, gold.

They'd never been able to give an answer, both of them. The words hadn't come out of their mouths. Wholeness is forever out of reach. The spider cannot devour the songbird, even as it sings so sweetly and perches upon its web, throat open wide. The songbird cannot swallow the spider whole—the web is too thick, it is too ensnared. The spider cannot smother the songbird—it sings too sweetly to allow; it is what allows bugs and little mortals to approach.

His chest throbs, painful, forever-apart even when he is not. Shinya is half a song—barely a full thing at all, barely a real thing to begin with. They are half of themselves, they are all of themselves, they cannot be anything more than themselves… a rendered god, a split-away thing, half and half and everything; but nothing. A light and a shadow. A web and a song. A weaver and a spinner; working as one. Silver falls into gold, with the sky.

Shinya breathes, wrestling himself away from the world; the thread resettling along the spindle. He reaches, reaches, towards that part of them that never settles and never rests, unless… unless…

(Never never never is a can't-happen)

He passes through trickles of silver, shoved into place by Tsunagu through the world— singing stars, gleaming swords, the first dawn-laced dew; gold sparking through clear crystal silver— a child's first cry; deadly mercury, dripped onto waiting tongues and the hearts of kings and the hands of queens— softest cotton, washed and spun and washed and spun—

Recognition: a lunar eclipse, Shinya's silver meeting Tsunagu's darkness. A moon passing though this planet's shadow; hellohellohellohellohello, touches and messages seaking past the bridge of souls like a lover's touch in the night. Hands find their pair. Gilded wings drift past untouched skin. Eyes open, and open, and open. One long-held scream resonating between two throats, passed between two souls, two flickers of divinity circling around something too-much and not-enough. And there is warmth. A conjoining. A beast curls into a beast becomes a beast, prayer layered on prayer twice over. Not matching, not anymore. No longer twins in the womb, no longer lovers cradled by the dark. There is no need for a chase. No chasing. For a single moment— purity.

Completion!

And then: the pain. A mother screams, their child forced out of the womb. A father howls, their baby torn out of their skin, the thigh, the heart! Two forces once more, forever out of sync, forever together, together forever. The two-headed lamb, alive; an ouroboros, screaming!

Shinya reaches for Tsunagu, again, Tsunagu of gold-lined eyes and open arms and weeping heart, still-howling, and devours. He sinks teeth into divinity, gold of god encasing him, seeping into every part of them. Of them.

Tsunagu holds him close, as Shinya thrashes, carves deeper into his ribcage; cage-of-body and cage-of-soul, another line of seperation drawing-cleaving between silver-and-gold! Ichor flows between them. It does not mingle— it is oil on water, two things, forever seperate. Memories entwine. This is you, they say to each other, desperate and loving and aching. Shinya tears into Tsunagu like a wounded animal gone rabid. He eats— he feasts, swallowing down bleeding sunlight and dripping honey and molten gold straight from the source. This is you.

This is us. That is me. That is you. That is us, together. Us, incomplete. We, as two. Light— shadow. Gold— silver.

We chase, we run, we run! I take my hand, I wonder how it is so different from yours. You take your hand, you marvel at how it is not mine. We turn and toss and crave; we claw and bite and swallow. I take your ribcage— you take my heart. You are mine, and mine again, and mine again— you are never me. I am yours, and yours, and forever-and-ever— I am not you.

Tsunagu, still-weeping, forever-bleeding— he reaches out, mourning; and commands the universe to dream of silver light.

-story anon :3

ANOTHER BANGER FROM STORY ANON <3333

To wish to be part of one another… to consume until you are whole, because whole as one is what you Should Be.

Oh I cannot put into words how amazingly you write them……. You ALWAYSSS capture them so well….

#bnha #eclair’s art #best jeanist #edgeshot #hakamada tsunagu #kamihara shinya #edgejeanist #Story anon <3 #fallen deities au #Eclair’s aus #Guys you gotta read this absolute banger #ask to tag #The words the absolute beauty of it all #going FERAL going INSANE over this #my DEITIESSSS #my GUYSSS #drawing this was fun too #hehee

NEVERMIND EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP NEW SURUME AND CUTTLEFRSH ART JUST DROPPED HOLY FUCK

THIS IS THE BEST ANNIVERSARY GIFT EVEBR FUCKKK YESSS

#SHE PLAYS THE GUITAR OH MY GODDDD #AUGHHHH #MY GUYSSS #anyways #splatoon 3 #agent 4 #bark-corner #surume splatoon #Cuttlefrsh splatoon

doodles!!!

#my guysss #i love joms design im really glad we practiced it #theyre so fun to draw now #our art #our ocs #doodles #ALOSP #winsley!!

arthur and joui sleeping together shshhs 🫶🫶🫶 i saw it in fanarts first but ohh they are so sweet ☹️☹️

#my guysss #calordem