ghcstwired

[ghcstwired]

fill this with what you most associate with your muse in each of these ( some slightly unusual )  categories !

rom com archetype: emotionally unavailable artist everyone falls for without knowing why.

spice: black pepper — subtle but sharp, lingers without overwhelming.

weather: foggy drizzle — quiet, isolating, and a little disorienting.

primary colour: desaturated teal — muted, melancholic, and hard to pin down.

colour of the sky: midnight blue, just before dawn breaks.

animal crossing animal: black cat villager with a sly smile and tragic lore.

magical power: illusions — reality distortion, hallucinations, bending perception.

shoe: black leather boots — polished but worn at the sole.

houseplant: monstera — thrives in shadows, dramatic leaves, hides damage well.

blade weapon: butterfly knife — compact, deceptive, elegant, and deadly in the right hands.

school subject: music theory — structured emotion beneath chaos.

social media: instagram — curated, aesthetic, but full of haunting subtext.

makeup product: black eyeliner

candy: blackcurrant hard candy — sweet with a bitter aftertaste.

tangible fear: mirrors — distorted reflections, fear of losing identity.

ice cube shape: jagged shard — uneven, not clean-cut, melts slowly.

method of long-distance travel: night train — quiet, liminal, melancholic.

art style: expressionism — raw emotion, distortion, beauty through pain.

historical period: taishō era japan — beauty amidst decay, fragile modernity, haunted elegance.

mythological creature: baku — eater of nightmares, ambiguous motives, tied to dreams.

piece of stationary: fountain pen — elegant, precise, leaves stains when mishandled.

three emoji combination: 🎭🕯️🌒 (performance, fragile light, waxing darkness)

celestial body: dying star — luminous from a distance, collapsing within.

tagged by @sharpsuite ( thanks! )

tagging: @gorekissed @alaskancold @lartist-e @cipheredwhispers @drainedvision @splittedvoid @embcrspark

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   Now that you’ve gotten more into aib  , what games do you think Ryujin would be best at? Spades, Clubs, Hearts, or Diamonds? Which would he be the worst at?

Such a good question! And I‘m still debating over it but I‘d say, due to his Idol Background and being in a Band, Clubs would be the best. Even though Ryujin struggles with connection and is emotionally distant in some way, I‘d say his survival instincts would push him to observe others keenly, adapt fast, and manipulate the group’s emotions if needed to ensure survival. He just knows how to win people over, which would make him a good hearts player too, especially with having a hearts game internally the whole time with JJ, BUT his own struggle (the survivors guilt, for example) would be his downfall when the games would get too personal.

The worst.. I‘d say diamonds. He isn’t stupid but he‘s more the emotional / intuitive thinker and diamonds games need this logical methodical thinking, which he doesn’t have. Especially with the entity in his head.

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𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀’𝙎  𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂  𝙊𝘿𝘿𝙇𝙔  𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂  𝘼𝘽𝙊𝙐𝙏  𝙏𝙃𝙀  𝙒𝘼𝙔  𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙔𝘼  𝙎𝙋𝙀𝘼𝙆𝙎   —  clean,  clinical,  but  threaded  with  the  kind  of  quiet  detachment  Ryujin  recognizes  too  well.  It’s  like  watching  your  own  ghost  pass  by  in  a  mirror  and  realizing  it’s  not  quite  you,  but  close  enough  to  make  you  pause.  Ryujin  lifts  his  gaze,  rain  streaking  down  the  strands  of  his  dark  hair.  The  corners  of  his  mouth  twitch,  not  a  smile  —  not  quite  but  something  like  agreement.  ❝  Yeah,  ❞  he  says,  ❝  You  stop  bleeding  and  they  call  that  healing.  ❞  He  exhales,  a  short  puff  of  breath  against  the  cold.  ❝  But  the  wound  still  itches..  still  hurts  when  it  rains.  ❞  There’s  no  need  to  explain  what  kind  of  wound.

 His  eyes  flick  briefly  toward  the  man  beside  him  —  cool,  unreadable  with  that  eerie  composure  that  feels  like  silence  turned  sentient,  yet,   there’s  something  about  the  way  he  lingers  in  the  rain  with  him,  exchanging  philosophical  barbs  instead  of  walking  away,  that  feels…  oddly  grounding.  ❝  You  ever  think  maybe  the  rot’s  all  we’ve  got  left?  ❞  Ryujin  continues,   ❝  The  rest  of  it…  it’s  just  packaging.  You  peel  it  off  and  what’s  underneath  is  soft,  spoiled,  and  still  breathing.  ❞  There’s  a  flicker  in  his  eyes,  this  time  genuine.  Something  raw  but  tempered,  an  ember,  not  a  blaze.  Maybe  it’s  Chishiya’s  strange  humor or  maybe  it’s  just  the  surreal  comfort  of  being  completely  drenched  and  completely  understood  at  the  same  time.  He  glances  at  the  reflection  in  the  shop  window  ahead.  Two  vague  shadows  where  people  should  be,  twisted  silhouettes  with  just  enough  shape  to  look  like  they  belong.

❝  If  I  start  sinking,  ❞  Ryujin  adds  dryly,  stepping  over  a  puddle,  ❝…  feel  free  to  tell  me  how  poetic  it  looks.  ❞  The  hint  of  a  smirk  curls  at  the  edge  of  his  mouth  before  he  nudges  the  conversation  back  toward  the  man  beside  him.  ❝  You  always  walk  with  strangers  in  the  rain,  or  am  I  just  lucky  tonight?  ❞  His  tone  is  playful  now,  just  a  touch,  like  fingers  testing  piano  keys  in  the  dark,  not  quite  ready  to  play  the  whole  song  but  no  longer  afraid  to  touch  the  chords.

IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE HE REALLY SPOKE WITH SOMEONE. Not the chitter-chatter of work related discussions and conversations. Not that Chishiya's ever been chatty with people. He isn't ; existing as an enigma. Highly respected doctor, but a ghost outside of the sterile halls. Rarer still did he think someone else would understand this weight. To everyone else it might be invisible, but there's a feeling, whisper in the back of the mind that recognizes what is similar in another in a way that neither rain nor night can conceal.

" People like to romanticize things to make it more bearable. " Chishiya's agreement comes smoothly, impersonal as the raindrops rolling off his umbrella. CLEARLY HE ALSO DOES NOT SHARE THE SENTIMENT. " As if spinning the story will change the fact that they are fibrous tissue and collagen, that it is fundamentally, permanently, changed. " He considers it for a moment. " Like a flesh version of a haunted house. What was and what is, and eventually things are lost. " A glorious mansion left to rot and be forgotten despite the prestige it once held. A ghost of the past that lingers.

Feline eyes slide back towards Ryujin as he listens to the personal truths be revealed as they wander the empty streets. ( Not that Chishiya minds ; he had no direction in mind originally either. ) ANONYMITY OFFERS SHELTER - or maybe he was simply someone more inclined to opening up about such matters. He studies the other's graceful features when he looks upwards, to the weight that exists even if it is only in sensation rather than BY LAWS OF GRAVITY. " True. And sometimes you cut the chains to walk on, only to find yourself walking back and willingly dragging the rot along with you. POISON OF FAMILIARITY, perhaps. Or the question of what are you without the rot at this point? Are YOU rot at this point? Where does it end and you begin in the aftermath of so long? "

Chishiya's lips curve - only slightly and it's impossible to identify what is the root of it when it is neither happy nor bitter. Just a Cheshire cat smile. " I don't think winning and surviving are necessarily the same - prelude or otherwise. " MORBID UPON REFLECTION, yet Chishiya delivers it with the same ease of which he breathes. Against odds, they're still breathing. " Mm. Though not sure how much is water and how much is air for you considering how much you were walking in the downpour. " He adds, a lighter note of teasing and a glint in his eyes before it smooths out again like ice. His attention is on the glass that reflects only silhouettes in the shadows, illuminated by weak neon that blurs features. " The only way is forward ; it's far less interesting to simply wait than see what is ahead. "

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"I don't really know what I'm feeling but there sure is a lot of it."

— Crisnd

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𝙍𝙔𝙐𝙅𝙄𝙉  𝘽𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙆𝙎  𝙊𝙉𝘾𝙀  —  𝙎𝙇𝙊𝙒𝙇𝙔.  𝘼𝙎  𝙄𝙁  𝙎𝘼𝙑𝙊𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂  𝙏𝙃𝙀  𝙒𝘼𝙔  𝙃𝙀𝙍  𝙃𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙎  𝘾𝙐𝙋  𝙃𝙄𝙎  𝙁𝘼𝘾𝙀.  The  corners  of  his  mouth  lift  but  the  kind  of  amused  grin  that’s  made  more  infuriating  by  its  restraint.  His  lashes  flick  downward,  then  up  again,  expression  unreadable  save  for  the  glimmer  of  mischief  that  always  betrays  him.  ❝  You  make  it  too  easy,  ❞  he  says,  voice  soft  but  laced  with  that  teasing  edge,  like  the  pull  of  thread  unraveling  a  sleeve.  ❝  I  breathe  near  you  and  it’s  like  watching  a  firework  go  off.  ❞  He  doesn’t  pull  away,  though.  If  anything,  he  leans  in  the  slightest  bit  more  as  though  her  grip  anchors  him  rather  than  wards  him  off.  His  brow  quirks,  tilting  his  head  to  mirror  her  own.  ❝  And  since  when  did  life  promise  fairness,  Orihime?  ❞  His  tone  is  light but  it  lingers  on  the  edge  of  sincerity  —  mock-serious.  ❝  Besides,  if  I  didn’t  tease  you,  you’d  get  bored…  admit  it.  ❞

Then,  with  a  tap  of  one  finger  against  the  tip  of  her  nose,  he  adds  with  mock  gravity,  ❝  You’re  dangerously  easy  to  startle.  I’m  simply  doing  the  universe  a  favor  by  keeping  you  on  your  toes.  ❞

✼                ━━━━━━    A   whisper,   as   thin   as   golden   syrup,   pervades   the   ether.   A   tremor   courses   through   her   vertebral   column.   He   inclines   toward   her,   perhaps   too   close,   but   she   doesn't   recede.   He   is   fond   of   this,   of   course.   Delicate   whirl   of   dismantling   her   composure,   those   treacherous   reactions   she   cannot   suppress,   gives   him   contentment   as   he   speaks   to   her.   "What   do   you   mean   by   'hard   to   ignore'?"   Inquires,   dulcet   timbre   exposing   her   nervousness.   Eyelashes   dance,   cheeks   flush   a   soft   rose,   warmth   expanding   where   his   closeness   lingers.   But   then,   unexpectedly,   palms   arise,   cupping   his   countenance   gently.   Her   hands   grasp   him   firmly.   "Why?"   Auburn   head   cocked   just   so,   brow   furrowed   with   the   magnitude   of   a   child   uncovering   a   deceit.   "Why   do   you   tease   me   so?   That   is   not   fair!" 

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' your voice is beautiful, I could listen to it all day.'

𝙏𝙃𝙀  𝘾𝘼𝙁𝙀  𝙒𝘼𝙎  𝙏𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙀𝘿  𝘽𝙀𝙃𝙄𝙉𝘿  𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀  𝘽𝙊𝙊𝙆𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙀𝙎   —  one  of  those  quiet  spots  that  didn’t  blast  music  or  chase  after  influencers.  That’s  why  he  liked  it.  No  cameras.  No  flashy  signs…  just  calm.  Ryujin  sat  in  the  corner,  hoodie  pulled  low,  mask  covering  most  of  his  face.  His  guitar  rested  on  his  knee,  fingers  lightly  messing  with  the  strings,  not  playing  anything,  just  letting  the  sounds  hang  in  the  air.  He  wasn’t  trying  to  get  noticed.

Then  she  spoke  up.

His  hand  froze  on  the  strings.  He  blinked surprised.  No  hint  of  who  he  was  in  her  eyes,  no  phones  pulling  out…  just  a  stranger  being  nice.  He  let  out  a  quiet  laugh,  the  first  one  in  a  while.  ❝  Careful,  ❞  he  said,  voice  low,  ❝  You  might  actually  make  me  sing  for  real.  ❞

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Charles Bukowski / Source / 3D Film Audience by J. R. Eyerman / Ask Polly's Guide to Your Next Crisis by Heather Havrilesky / The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa / Image: from on the beach at night alone painted by @deathlywounded Text: Unknown author / Comment on this post by ElCatrin on Pinterest / Comment on this post by zeke on Pinterest / Photo by Richard Termine (Source) / Hands by Giovanni Gasparro / Gokstadt/Ganymede by Paisley Rekdal

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art by heavensghost

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luca ponsato

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𝙍𝙔𝙐𝙅𝙄𝙉  𝙒𝘼𝙎  𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙇𝙇  𝘽𝙐𝙕𝙕𝙄𝙉𝙂  𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃  𝙏𝙃𝙀  𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙃𝙊𝘾𝙆𝙎  𝙊𝙁  𝙏𝙃𝙀  𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙈𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀  —  the  roar  of  the  crowd  echoing  in  his  head,  the  artificial  high  beginning  to  ebb  away  into  the  usual  post-show  emptiness.  His  jacket  hung  loose  around  his  frame,  stage  makeup  smeared  faintly  beneath  one  eye  where  he’d  rubbed  at  it,  unaware.  A  water  bottle  dangled  from  his  fingers  half-forgotten.  ❝  You  don’t  look  like  the  usual  muscle  they  hire  to  babysit  me,  ❞  Ryujin  replied,  voice  smooth  but  quiet,  the  edges  of  exhaustion  softening  his  tone.  His  gaze  wasn’t  sharp,  not  suspicious  exactly,  but  there  was  caution  there,  an  instinct  he  hadn’t  been  able  to  shake  since  the  crash.  There  was  a  pause.  The  weight  of  Yuki’s  presence  was  hard  to  define,  but  Ryujin  didn’t  flinch  from  it.

 ❝  I’m  Ryujin,  ❞  he  offered  simply,  as  if  that  wasn’t  already  obvious.  His  mouth  quirked  into  a  faint,  ironic  smile.  ❝  But  I  guess  you  knew  that  before  they  handed  you  the  job.  ❞  He  stepped  closer,  the  gap  between  them  shrinking  just  enough  to  be  intentional.  Ryujin’s  expression  sobered  slightly  as  he  studied  Yuki,  something  flickering  behind  his  eyes  that  wasn’t  for  show.  ❝  Whatever  they  told  you  about  the  stalker…  is  probably  true.  Maybe  worse.  ❞  A  beat.  ❝  You  believe  in  gut  instinct,  Yuki?  ❞ Ryujin’s  voice  dipped,  just  a  notch  lower.  ❝  Because  mine  says  he’s  not  just  obsessed.  He’s  hunting  me.  ❞

@ghcstwired

Money, blackmail, and intimidation were all Isen needed to get his way, a formula he'd perfected until it was infallible. It was almost impressive, even if it left a strange feeling in Yuki's gut — a feeling that was too dangerous to give a second thought. He’d been tasked with protecting a celebrity, Ryujin Choi, after rumors of an obsessive fan had been circling around. The evidence suggested that this man’s fixation on Ryujin was mutating into something more sinister; and Isen was unwilling to let someone take Ryujin's life, for reasons he hadn’t disclosed to Yuki, or anyone else.

Yuki waited off-stage while Ryujin performed in front of an enormous audience. While the venue's security was more obvious, and certainly provided a decoy that may prove useful, Yuki remained in the background. He allowed his power to hover near the front row, set like a trap, waiting for someone to cross the barrier with a lot more than just admiration in their intentions.

He knew about Ryujin, of course; a fatal car accident that he'd miraculously survived, that had cast him into the spotlight of fame and fortune, whether he liked it or not. They'd seen each other briefly before Ryujin was set to perform, too quickly to exchange names or pleasantries. Or for Yuki to get a read on his aura.

The show ended and Yuki lingered, waiting until the crowd began to dissipate before giving instructions to the security guards. Their flippant attitude earned them a cold look from Yuki, the calm in wake of a brewing storm, and he watched with satisfaction as each smile disappeared. With that, he followed the stagehands back.

Upon seeing Ryujin, Yuki gave a slight bow of his head. "I'm sorry we didn't get the chance to meet properly," he said with his usual, distanced neutrality, now that the need to intimidate was gone. His demeanor was not cold or uninviting, merely the surface of still waters; benevolent and calm. “I'm Yuki. I've been hired to be your private security."

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𝙍𝙔𝙐𝙅𝙄𝙉  𝙇𝙀𝙏  𝙊𝙐𝙏  𝘼  ��𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙃  𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏  𝙒𝘼𝙎𝙉’𝙏  𝙌𝙐𝙄𝙏𝙀  𝘼  𝙇𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃,  𝘽𝙐𝙏  𝙒𝘼𝙎𝙉’𝙏  𝙅𝙐𝙎𝙏  𝙀𝙓𝙃𝘼𝙇𝙀  𝙀𝙄𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍.     It    rasped    out    of    him    like    something    broken.    ❝    Your    name’s    hard    to    forget,    ❞    he    muttered,    dragging    the    back    of    his    hand    across    his    cheek    again,    smearing    blood    into    the    grime.    ❝    Especially    when    you    show    up    like    a    ghost    after    a    game.    Lucky    me.    ❞    He    didn’t    mean    it    cruelly.    Maybe    it    was    just    the    aftershock    talking.    The    high    of    survival,    laced    with    the    hollowness    it    always    left    in    its    wake.    That    numb    ache    in    the    chest    when    you    knew    someone    had    screamed    their    last    breath    behind    you    and    you    didn’t    even    stop    to    look — not    until    it    was    over.    His    gaze    drifted    to    Chishiya’s    jacket,    still    immaculate,    still    coldly    untouched    by    the    horror    he    had    just    waded    through.    ❝    Of    course    you    played    two    nights    ago    ❞    Ryujin    said    after    a    beat,    voice    quieter.

He    shifted    closer,    carefully,    each    step    a    reminder    that    his    body    hadn’t    made    it    out    unscathed    even    if    it    looked    like    he    had.    ❝    You    make    it    sound    so    simple…    note    taking..    as    if    you’re    documenting    a    failed    science    experiment    instead    of    people    tearing    each    other    apart.    ❞    There    was    no    venom    in    his    tone,    just    resignation,    maybe    curiosity,    maybe    envy but    when    Chishiya    offered,    Ryujin    didn’t    hesitate    this    time,    not    because    he    was    reckless,    but    because    he    knew    better    than    to    let    wounds    fester    here.    Infection    was    just    another    player    in    the    Borderland.    ❝    Yeah,    ❞    he    murmured,    stepping    close    enough    that    his    shadow    met    Chishiya’s    under    the    flickering    light.    ❝    Guess    you    might    as    well    make    yourself    useful.    ❞    A    faint    smirk    ghosted    across    his    lips    as    he    extended    his    arm,    showing    the    torn    sleeve,    the    raw    scrape    running    from    elbow    to    wrist.    Then,    softer,    almost    too    quiet    to    hear.    ❝    I    don’t    think    I’ve    gotten    used    to    surviving    yet,    feels    like    I    leave    more    of    myself    behind    every    time.    ❞    He    paused.    ❝    You    ever    feel    that?    ❞    His    eyes    lifted    to    meet    Chishiya’s,    searching    not    for    comfort    but    maybe    understanding.    Maybe    proof    that    someone    else    in    this    godless    place    still    felt    something    beneath    all    the    logic    and    strategy.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗘𝗦 . . . @ghcstwired

" I almost thought you had suddenly forgotten my name. " Chishiya's voice offers a singular note of teasing to it as he regards the Ryujin before him. A TYPICAL SURVIVOR. People often stumbled out of the games in such a state - even Chishiya had one or two times. It was bound to happen to you if you managed to survive long enough. NOT TONIGHT. Chishiya's signature white jacket is still spotless, almost glowing under the moonlight in the empty city. " That would be a reasonable assumption to make given the circumstances. " It was hard to find people.

His attention is clearly focused towards Ryujin, but nothing seems to escape the feline-like eyes of Chishiya. He watches the other people that stumble and hobble away from the venue, taking notes - observing. ( No one here looks particularly USEFUL. ) A hum of acknowledgement is offered when the other recounts shallow injuries. Typical ones for these lands.

Almost anyone else would be DEFENSIVE to the words; Chishiya offers no denial nor defense. " No, I didn't play. I played a different game two nights ago. " Chishiya confirms with a shrug. " NOTE TAKING. " Of what? He doesn't specify. " But I was studying the outcome as well, you're correct. Who survives and who doesn't. Thought that knowledge is more valuable from games I participate in rather than just seeing who emerges. Still - knowledge is invaluable. " That was true of any world, but especially here.

Chishiya considers the options before he beckons the other closer. " Do you want me to look at the wounds? I have a travel med kit on me. "

[ghcstwired]

@ghcstwired

[ghcstwired]

༘⋆｡  golden idols.

sentence  starters  meant  for  famous  characters,  for  characters  who  live  in  the  limelight.  some  for  famous  senders,  famous  receivers,  &  both!

they  only  love  the  version  of  you  they  built.

everyone  wants  a  piece  of  you.

do  you  ever  wish  you  could  be  anonymous  again?

if  that  photo  leaks,  we’re  both  done.

they'll  turn  on  me  the  second  i  mess  up

are  you  always  this  charming  or  just  on  red  carpets?

if  i  stop  shining,  will  they  stop  looking  at  me?

fake  smiles  are  muscle  memory  for  me.

this  isn't  real  life  for  most  people,  you  know.

do  you  even  know  who  you  are  without  the  fans?

being  iconic  is  a  full  time  job!

want  to  hide  out  here  for  a  minute?

you  think  this  business  has  room  for  people  like  me?

you  stop  being  a  person  the  second  your  name  becomes  a  headline.

we're  trending.  again.  what  did  you  even  do?

i'd  give  it  all  up  if  you  asked  me  to.

you  bought  out  the  entire  cafe?

your  manager  said  this  could  ruin  you.

this  is  for  press.  don't  make  this  to  be  something  it's  not.

is  this  really  what  you  wanted  when  you  said  you  wanted  to  be  seen?

i  liked  you  better  before  we  both  had  pr  teams.

you're  the  only  one  who  talks  to  me  like  i'm  real.

nobody  claps  when  i'm  crying  in  my  trailer.

don't  confuse  charisma  for  confidence.

you  deserve  every  second  of  this.

three  awards  in  one  night?  try  not  to  gloat.

we  are  one  bad  decision  away  from  being  tomorrow's  headline.

i  want  you,  not  some  picture  on  my  magazine.

this  face  launched  brands  and  ruined  careers.

they  worship  the  shine,  not  what's  beneath.

sometimes  i  think  i  was  built  to  be  looked  at,  not  known.

sure,  i  can  sign  your  shirt.

say  you  didn't  just  roast  me  in  your  fucking  acceptance  speech.

i  got  three  hours  of  sleep  and  sparkly  highlighter.  let's  go.

let  them  stare.  i'd  stare  at  me,  too.

you  light  up  the  entire  room.

careful,  i  might  start  a  fan  club  just  to  embarrass  you.

it's  okay  if  you  need  five  minutes  to  be  a  real  human  being.

you're  one  of  my  favorite  people,  famous  or  not.

if  this  dress  gets  me  on  some  "worst-dressed"  list,  i  blame  you.

i  miss  when  we  used  to  party  without  photographers.

you  realize  you're  the  most  famous  person  here,  right?

you  always  did  know  how  to  disappear  into  a  crowd.