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Your daily weekly yearly reminder that I am here, queer, and an actual trans person here to say this community is one of the most transphobic places I've ever had the displeasure of being in; that I see each and every one of yr weak-ass reblogs, and that not subscribing to a headcanon certainly doesn't make you instantly transphobic! But that your thinly-veiled transphobia is still shining through in a myriad of other ways, and your willingness to silence trans people about how we represent ourselves in media that overwhelmingly makes us the butt of crossdressing jokes is textbook, fucking textbook.

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> You feel fatigued. Perhaps you should head to bed early tonight..

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If my character was wearing a warning label, what would it say?

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luv the persona fandom and the way they [ clenches fist ] collectively headcanon ryoji as ridiculously hypersexual & the master of pickup lines

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Ah, but I invited you! It's... not right, to invite you somewhere and expect you to pay your way.

( rude, is the word which perches so prettily on the tip of a tongue; delicate as an insect, the tickle of wings on the roof of a smiling mouth. impolite. tactless. words on words; ryoji not the type to swallow down dictionaries, and so the best he can articulate himself is that it feels wrong.

but where spoken language fails him, his tactile body has always known best how to communicate; an open and inviting language, sentences strung together in starlight. a crescent moon grin, the soft touch of shoulder pressed to shoulder. the soft grip that grasped so greedily for minato's hand tightens nearly to the point of pain as he leads the boy, a spasm of something that treads the line of greed, possessiveness; but perhaps could pass for merely excitable in the right light. )

You know... I haven't seen any of the films that are playing right now. If you really don't mind anything, it might take a little while to decide!

Ah- what's your favorite genre, Minato-kun? I think right now, mine is foreign language films, but I don't think any of those are in theater!

> You blush at feeling his cold fingers brush against your fingertips, intertwining within your palm, but you allow the gesture to take place. Your heart pounded violently against your chest, as you were still rather knew to the concepts of affectionate gestures, but the little squeeze brings you to some ease, as your pulse slows, if only by a bit.

"Not really. I don’t really go there much anymore, but I can watch anything."

> Recent events had you preoccupied away from the movie theater, unable to really focus on whatever films had taken place at the time. Really, you’d only ever gone to a movie if you had someone ask you first, but then again, you imagine going alone would be rather awkward. 

"Are you sure? I don’t mind paying…"

> Ryoji’s kindness always meant a lot to you, even if you didn’t quite say it. Really, it was almost baffling, someone who shows this much of themselves, and yet, there always felt like there was something there… Something somber, unknown, and utterly intriguing.

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I am a shadow, the true self

Mochizuki Ryoji... I wonder, did She pick this name for me, or did I choose it for myself? I can't remember anymore. Even if I did remember, would that memory be the truth? I can't trust myself, I can't-- everything I've ever felt has been a lie, hasn't it? Foundations built on salt and sand.

My friends... they're all lies too, aren't they. The person they know is someone who never existed. I am not Mochizuki Ryoji; I never have been. I see that now.

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'I Am A Shadow, The True Self'

I'm weak. I'm so frightened. Now that I know the truth of myself, all I think about is escaping it; yet, I know best of all that there is no escaping one's fate. Death is coming- death, is coming. All I've ever known, or loved... I'll destroy it with my own hands. I'm too weak to stop Her, instead all I can do is just- just--

( tears are beginning to form in the shadow's eyes. should you comfort him?          → yes.               → no. )

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I Am A Shadow, The True Self'

Just to you, Makoto-kun, I'll tell a secret. I know myself, I know I'm too weak to say it even now. I've always been this weak, it seems. A disappointment to Mother.

Ah, but the secret... maybe you've already figured it out? I always did think you were so smart, and kind; I realize now everything I felt was only a product of our tether. Had I not been sealed into Yuki Makoto, I would end all things without remorse. It's naught but cruel luck that I became this sniveling thing, so frightened of my purpose I would make a child kill me. Isn't it?

Yes, I blame Makoto-kun for all of this.

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'I Am A Shadow, The True Self'

We're one and the same, you and I. Perhaps it would be a mistake to even speak in terms of you and I, in fact? It's only me here. Only myself and all the lies I just. Keep. Telling!

Ah, they're look at me like I'm human-- like I'm something in need of comfort? I'm not. I am a shadow; this has always been my true self. I only speak the truth, now; the real lies were all told by my lying, treacherous, humanoid body. They're all wondering at me now, what am I? What am I? What am I?

Ha! I know what I am. I'm a shadow, and I always have been.

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Send Me 'I Am A Shadow, The True Self' and I Will Reveal Something My Muse Wants To Keep Private Or Something They Feel Conflicted About

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ryoji mochizuki makes me sad

after the kyoto trip, i wanted to dunk him into the trash, but after december 31, i just want to give him a hug

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proeliium replied to your post:[ takes 3 fucking hours to write a single reply ]...

Good hustle, Ryoji.

I am weak and natural selection is coming for me.

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[ takes 3 fucking hours to write a single reply ] PARKOUR

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"That he felt like he had been waiting to meet you, or that he said strange things?" Ryoji's smile is straining itself now, something unsettled beneath his skin. Every nerve he has jangles all at once; a spear made of ice that lances through chest and throat, a feeling incorrectly identified as jealousy.

In spite of himself, he laughs; offbeat noise, dead air in his chest. A handful of greasy fries is pushed into his mouth, and he barely tastes them around the ash, around the way he cannot stop staring at Makoto-kun's living skin with reverent eyes; the blood-honey and the insects, the things he sees growing beneath the surface of honeycomb pores. 

"Perhaps... you just inspire strangeness in people, Makoto-kun?" He quips after a time; long seconds too late for their conversation, feigning normality with a well-hidden desperation. Ryoji feels strange, cyclical. Like he's experienced this before, like he's seen the end of this already but just can't remember it.

Long legs stretch beneath the table; he knocks ankles with Makoto childishly, a brief brush of physical contact to bridge the oceanic gap between his thoughts and the reality of the body that sits across from him, "Ah, but that would be a bit of a curse, wouldn't it? I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, or act strangely with you. I'm just glad we're friends."

No shift is detectable on the apathetic features, the unfazed and passive stare of silver hues not showing a single change.

But inwardly, in the subconscious no one except himself can enter to, he wonders. He does not know why bright yellow scarf and black suspenders reminds him of eerie cerulean irises and black-white strip pajamas, the sensation of childish laughter and diminutive warmth hands as that little boy relates tales of the unknown and Greek gods.

Raising a curious eyebrow, the Fool comments nothing towards Ryoji’s words, listening with contemplation what the other says. He is used to Ryoji spilling enigmatic, breathless and poetic words towards everything, always fascinated in the minimum detail Iwatodai has to offer, as if he had never experienced anything before.

“Is that so.” He mumbles before taking mindless, long gulps of his drink as he eyes the other’s reaction, his silent demeanor never changing. “Well, then.”

Monochromatic irises glance over the bright cerulean ones, taking his time — why the need to rush? — to pass them languidly over the beauty mark and the colorful muffler that falls over lean shoulders. Familiarity strikes vaguely, like an old nostalgia, making him narrow his eyes slightly, wondering why he thought he saw Pharos.

“You remind me of someone.” He murmurs against the can, feeling the need to let know what is going on his mind for once. “He said the same to me, like you.”

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tfw you keep thinking you should get on dangan blogs & then never doing that

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   a fruitless infinite loop—-                    i reset everything one more time and with resilience                                                                                 i started a new game

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cant wait to thread with enough people to make a relationship page