synesthesiaghxst-blog

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

breaking from my tentative multimuse, stepping onto the indie scene for the first time, still a bit in the works, and rather new to this community, here’s a self-promo, perhaps? but, anyway– like and / or reblog if you want to interact with a newly established indie. shirogane tsumugi from new danganronpa v3!

indie // selective // written by kani // not ndrv3 spoiler free // please read the rules before interacting!

#[ ooc. ] #acting on an impulse and made a shirogane blog anyway #faint laughing #anyway if you're a dr blog (or anyone fine with ndrv3 spoilers!) #i'd appreciate it if you followed here too...!!

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

tsumtsum

#[ gallery. ] #[ the copycat. ]

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

i know i’m not quite active here already, but... i’m thinking of making a saihara and shirogane blog once the v3 localization drops. this blog will certainly still exist, and i’ll still heavily reply on the fan translations as i’ve already been, but as they’re currently my strongest v3 muses and considering the rush of v3 muses that will probably drop after the localization release... 

#[ ooc. ] #[ mun musings. ] #keeping my thoughts here because why not #i have a url for saihara #but not one yet for shirogane

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virtuoxo:

Awful. This was almost awful enough to make him laugh out loud, it was ridiculous. Buddy, chum, pal. We should hang out sometime, after we haven’t seen each other in so long. We have so much to catch up on. The others would like to see you too, surely. They had nothing to do with this, with him and with Neku. They were Neku’s friends, not his. More importantly, they had been players in his game. 

While it was true that their influence had undeniably led to the present results, he couldn’t say he shared the same emotional connection with them as he did with his proxy. Neku was the only one he had chosen. The only one who had died for his cause, who he had used. His care for the others was limited to the impact they had had on Neku during the game. Why did he think it was a good idea to bring them together? Was he just being optimistic, or plain ignorant of what obviously stood between them? Joshua wasn’t your everyday kid gone missing. He wasn’t a friend that had been off on vacation for a couple of months. Neither did he want Neku to treat him like this, and yet. This. Yet this was happening. If he didn’t want to leave before, he sure wanted to now.

“Neku”, he started, and his voice was serious this time. Clearly he had enough of entertaining his conversation partner by listening to his ridiculous attempts to tie him in with their world. It wasn’t going to happen.  “You realize I’m not being humble, right?”

He stopped in his tracks by the time they’d reached 104. Staring up at the building, his expression stayed sour.  “I did what I considered necessary. I’m not one for making decisions based on sympathies.”

“I…”

Words fizzle and die on his tongue, fizzle upon his lips, and Neku feels a coldness settled around his skin like another, and he finds himself gazing at the blond, grasping at his words with bewildered fingers as if they were mist, and he feels like he’s missing something entirely.

He doesn’t get what he’s saying, not quite. He’s— assuming, hoping. Assuming that there shouldn’t be anything between them (anything— else, anything more, anything other than what’s obvious, all that he’s trying to ignore, because that shouldn’t be enough to keep away something like this— right?), hoping that this could be possible (because— isn’t it? Can’t it be?), and he bites at his tongue and turns his eyes just away.

“What… what do you mean?”

His gaze follows Joshua’s, an echo of a gesture; he turns his head away, chin up, but his eyes flicker back, catches the sourness that edges his soft features.

“I… I know that.” But does he? He searches for his words, unsure of where to pluck them, where to place them. He’s afraid he’ll make a mistake, tread further somewhere he’d regret. “I just… I just thought we could maybe, I don’t know…”

Neku turns to him, completely. “What’s... is there something wrong?”

telltale

#[ the proxy. ] #[ the proxy ic. ] #[ IC. ] #[ thread. ] #[ a world beginning. ] #[ the proxy // joshua kiryu oo1. ] #what the fuck is this anymore anyway #but this is going in a wonderful direction

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

kcsmonavt:

@synesthesiaghxst ♥’d for a starter

  ‘WHEN I look up at the sky… the stars, see, are sparkling. Each giving off its own light like the people on this planet. Yeah, so I, too want to shine particularly bright.’

“That is… very ambitious of you, Momota-kun.”

My, my. Such aspirations— but, considering the mouth it’s coming from, she supposes she can’t be all that surprised. Still, though, she can’t say quite the same for herself; perhaps it was true that her talent was well known, but… she did that for the art, really. If anything, she’d like her art to be the one to shine, but-- that was another thing entirely. 

Not that she can deny his passion. It was terribly admirable, in any case.

“At least try not to blind anyone, alright?”

#[ the copycat. ] #[ the copycat ic. ] #[ ic. ] #[ mini. ] #kcsmonavt #[ the copycat // kcsmonavt oo1. ] #aa thank you for the starter...!!

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

frozen in time

He’s home.

It’s been a year. A year across the ocean, in the states, a year elsewhere and nowhere in a world too different from his own, because— how could it ever live up to all the adventures he’s made back home? All the memories he’s crafted, all the people he’s met, all the lives and worlds he’s passed through at the Professor’s (and— everyone else’s) sides...

Home is where the heart is, they say, and he supposes that with so little time his heart’s never found it in itself to leave with him, simply latched onto the professor’s knees as he has countless times. Figures; he never wanted to do it himself in the first place, anyway.

But— his father’s work has tugged him back home, to London— and for a month!— and the excitement that’s coursing through his veins from the moment he’s heard the news hasn’t quite faded, from the weeks of packing, from the boarding onto the boat heading right for home; even now, now that’s he’s finally, finally here, it tickles at his insides, filling him with an excitement and energy that buzzes so intensely he swears he’s going to burst.

The professor isn’t back from work, and Luke’s already finished unpacking everything. And now that he’s fourteen, in— in high school, now, his father’s allowed him to go off on his own, at least for a little while.

He misses the streets, the smells, the everything. Stepping out the doors, he lets his feet take him; he doesn’t mind where, frankly, simply content with being.

It’s one of those days where he thinks that the day is perfect, that nothing could possibly go wrong. It is also, unfortunately, one of the days where his luck decides to flare up and throw what is, perhaps, the biggest heart attack he’s had in quite all his life.

It takes a moment for him to register it— the too familiar figure, tucked in a chair beside the furthest table at an outside cafe— but when he does, it’s like the world stops.

“C—”

The words catch at the back of his throat— and he’s instantly regretting everything at once. He— shouldn’t have spoke, shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have let his feet bring him forward, shouldn’t have let his voice stumble and catch the attention of the other, shouldn’t have ignored his instincts as they yowled at him to— go, to leave, to turn right the other way and run—

and yet his feet are firmly planted, eyes wide, as he stares into the eyes of the man who’d stolen his identity and the lives of many, many more.

Wasn’t he— wasn’t he supposed to be in— wasn’t he supposed to be in prison—?!

“…C— Clive?”

@lostfxture​

#[ the apprentice. ] #[ the apprentice ic. ] #[ ic. ] #[ thread. ] #[ critical thinking. ] #[ the apprentice // clive dove oo1. ] #lostfxture #time for death? #time for death #i think this is the third time luke's been through this? #it never gets old though

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

virtuoxo:

You’re welcome. He could barely resist the urge to blurt out that line, to cut him short before he was able to continue. But that wouldn’t be like him, and perhaps it was too much of a giveaway that his entire nervous system was on fire. His heart was beating the tiniest bit faster, his hair stood in his nape and if someone touched him now, he’d likely freeze all together.

Anyway, there was no ‘you’re welcome’ from his side. Not yet, at least. He listened as they walked through the busy streets, seemingly with no direction or goal in mind. Just wandering, because that was better than standing in front of each other and having to deal with any of this even more directly than it already was at this point. So he’s been well, hm? Joshua couldn’t say that wasn’t satisfying to hear. Shibuya had changed for the better, and apparently so did Neku’s life. Put like that, it almost sounded like a win-win situation. If only.

Joshua stole a few glances at him, every time his proxy struggled to find words. Let his violet hues linger on him, and take in the sight of a boy who fought for every sentence he had been practising in his head for months now. As if he’d been studying for a test, just to draw a complete blank when push came to shove. He was fidgeting a bit, sometimes, too. His eyes shifted and he stared forwards again, with his lips pressed into a line. It was so different, seeing Neku this close, in comparison to watching him from the safety of the UG. It really made him feel connected.

“You’re welcome, Neku” There it was after all, though it came out much more naturally than originally feared. He figured he could let this one slide.  “I only returned what I borrowed from you”

Your life, that is. 

Joshua’s eyes narrowed in frustration, if only for the tiniest of moments. He didn’t want this conversation to happen. He would have taken Neku snapping at him, yelling, accusing him any day. He would have smiled and walked off and that was it. But Neku was thankful, actually genuinely thankful, for how shamelessly he used him, dragged him into a world he wasn’t part of and made him a tool in something much bigger than he could ever comprehend. How he lied to him, tricked him, manipulated him, killed him. And god, he didn’t need his thanks, he needed anything but that. He wanted to curse him as much as he cursed himself. If you’re really thankful, loathe me with every fiber of your being.  Please.

It was, nearly. Like a test, some kind of practice, that is. After all-- he’d spent days, weeks, months, hoping for this day; what else was he supposed to do, aside from preparing himself for it? Whether or not it came, he acted as if it would, anyway, because-- no, he wouldn’t let it slip away from him. 

But-- well, he could never predict Joshua. That was part of who he was, after all. He could control, anticipate, press down on his own emotions-- the flaring anger, the desperation, the quiet in-between-- but he couldn’t do the same to Joshua. Simply wait, and react, and hope, perhaps. Besides-- he was never the best at this kind of thing, anyway.

But even so.

Offering his thanks, he watches the other’s face, hesitance nearly making him stop in his tracks-- but he forces himself to stay, to watch, to hope, and hearing the words finally come from his mouth: he leans back a bit, only now realizing how tense he’d been in anticipation, breaking out into a small, relieved, smile.

“Still, though,” Neku insists, feeling himself fall back into a sort of comfort, though he’s not sure if quite the same could be applied to the other. Well, that’s how it was, sometimes, he guesses. “ You don’t have to say it like that, really. Even after all you did... I trusted you, you know? You didn’t have to. I mean... it would’ve sucked a lot if you didn’t bring me back to life, or if you didn’t spare Shibuya, but that was your choice, and you said you would... but you didn’t, in the end. So I guess... just thank you, anyway.”

He senses, though, that he’s treading on-- something, and he tugs back his words and bites at his lips, chew at his tongue and flickers his gaze just away.

What else to say? He couldn’t have the conversation going at a stagnant, and yet he feels one fast approaching. He gazes up, looking at the skyline, letting his thoughts trickle out like the clouds that meandered through the sky above them.

“... we should hang out sometime,” he says, suddenly. “Not just like this. With everyone else. You know-- Shiki, Beat, Rhyme... I think they’d like to see you again, too.”

telltale

#[ the proxy. ] #[ the proxy ic. ] #[ ic. ] #[ thread. ] #[ a world beginning. ] #[ the proxy // joshua kiryu oo1. ]

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

virtuoxo:

He’d never felt such dreadful silence in the RG’s Shibuya Crossing until that moment. Moments. There were a million things they had to say to each other and perhaps that was what made the whole idea of conversation so difficult. Where to start was the question hanging heavily between them. Joshua wanted to leave, because the weight of the situation was pulling him down like rocks tied to his wrists, though after their introduction he deemed it an impossible feat. Here he stood, striking roots until Neku’s voice broke their silence again.

I missed you. 

His guts twisted. 

After everything. Everything, everything, everything. That was what he said to him. He missed him. That was funny. He had actually missed this. All of this. The worst month, the worst week of his life. Well, maybe he hadn’t missed all of that, but he knew who to thank. He missed this, the bickering and the stress and the anxiety and not knowing who to trust. Being betrayed. Shoving aside his worries and emotions because of a game set up by none other than Joshua himself. He. Missed him. What’s with that Stockholm Syndrome attitude? Who allowed him to be this warm to him. Why would he do that to him. 

Joshua turned, as if trying to run. It was slow and mechanical, but it was still an escape because he couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t look at that face for another damn second. He walked, slowly, slow enough for him to follow if he felt like it. Everything around them moved in slow motion. He couldn’t stay here and just. Do this. 

“I’ve been fine, thank you” That was as casual as it got in that moment. His fingers slid into his pockets, his shoulders leaned back.  “How has life been treating you? Are you already regretting returning to the RG?”  Perhaps he shouldn’t talk so freely about it with a mortal. With a kid. But what was the point in hiding it? It wasn’t like he had forgotten. It wasn’t like none of this had ever happened. Whatever. It didn’t matter. This was already happening so… whatever, really.

He doesn’t know what to expect, really. A response, of course, is what he wants— but, really, who ever knew with Joshua? He was an enigma enough before Neku was even aware of his whole Composer deal, and they never exactly had much time to catch up after he found out, except perhaps a bullet to his chest. Or, whatever it was. He never really knew, of course, but that was besides the point, anyway.

But— even from a week (even from a week of lies and deception and false pretences and dozens upon dozens of masks) he thinks he knows him well enough, that whatever he was doing he meant something and he wasn’t a complete fucking asshole. Not to say that he wasn’t one, but not one enough to— well, do anything without a reason. He trusted him enough, for that, at least. And… it paid off, because, Shibuya was here, when, really, it shouldn’t be.

He shouldn’t be.

But he is, breathing and living and here, and he has to thank him for that, at least.

Though— anything more than that, he didn’t know. Here, neither of them had any obligation to stay, aside from the words that strung between them like quivering line, thin and worn from too much tugging, yanking, everything. Both of them could break it, easily, and while Neku is determined not to let go— he can’t exactly say the same for the god on the other end.

And so when Joshua turns, panic blossoms in his throat, and he almost can’t get the words past it as his heel scuffles on the pavement as he hurries to follow behind. Because— of course he would. He’d never just— let him leave, not if he could do anything about it.

The god speaks, and Neku manages to find his footing— a pace, just a little ways behind him, nerves and anticipation pulling him both forwards and back. He bites his lip, rolls his tongue over his teeth, trying to string together an answer.

“It’s been good,” he says, and it’s the truth. “I don’t regret it. I… it turned out I was missing a lot of things. From before. It’s been really great, being able to get a second chance.”

‘Thanks to you,’ he wants to add, but he doesn’t know how to press it to the end of the sentence without making it sound sarcastic, without finding some of his old bitterness souring the end of his lips. But he’s sure— they both still hear it, unspoken, hanging in the air.

He plucks it from the air, shoving it back into his throat and coughs. “I wanted to thank you, Joshua.”

telltale

#[ the proxy. ] #[ the proxy ic. ] #[ ic. ] #[ thread. ] #[ a world beginning. ] #[ the proxy // joshua kiryu oo1. ] #middi? middi? #what the fuck? #id say i didn't ask for this but #i did #anyway here's more of this

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

tiny lukes

#[ gallery. ] #[ the apprentice. ]

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

virtuoxo:

Humans were adaptable little creatures. With all their complaints about the future, all their worries and sorrow, all hopelessness, they still somehow made it through. For better or worse, what didn’t kill them made them stronger. Sometimes what killed you made you stronger, or at least opened doors that had been previously closed. 

If that was the case, Joshua considered himself a gatekeeper. He didn’t own the keys to hearts, because let’s be real, it would be a very big key ring he’d hate to carry it around with him all the time. He gladly let them pass should they’ve been able to pick the lock themselves though. Watched and nodded as they stepped, crushed through, broke and tore them down and grew wings to reach their fullest potential. 

If there was anything Joshua believed in, it was that all humans could fly, even those that had their feathers plugged. They grew and moved on, they crashed and fell and picked themselves up again, even in resistance to the inevitable end that they’d all have to face in the end: death. 

Then why was it, when human lives were so short and their memories so unreliable and fragile, that he still had to listen to his name ring through the crowd so many weeks later. Why was it that the most painful memories stuck the longest, that they stuck the closest?

He turned, because what other choice did he have? Hiding in Shibuya’s jungle was only easy to pull off if your legs didn’t refuse to move. Here he was, facing the one person he had wished to never see again. Who did gods pray to if they asked for something to come true? 

“Neku” This felt surreal. They stood in the middle of the crossing, yet all people around them seemed so insignificant now. They barely existed at this point. He took in the sight of a Neku Sakuraba, six months after he’d been chosen to be reincarnated. After he had shot him. After he had won.  “How long the days without you have felt”

He stares at him, for a moment, still feeling the alarm pulse at the back of his throat, the bottom of his beating heart, like he almost doesn’t completely believe it. Well— after all, it’s been half a year. An in-between, of a sorts. It’s felt like both forever and not any time at all, and the fact that they’re here, of all places, doesn’t exactly help.

“It’s…” the words dry at the back of his tongue before he could even begin to find them, and his lips pull shut for a fluttering, hesitant moment. He breaths. “… yeah. It’s been a while, Josh.”

Some part of him almost wants to— accuse him. Not so different from last time, he supposes; with words cut differently, from another time, another place, yet just as sharp and pained: ‘if that were true, then, why haven’t you showed up until now? Why is it only now I manage to find you, all by accident, after I asked so many times, for so, so long—?’

It brings back a pain he never wanted to feel again, dulled and grating, but with his reappearance it’s nearly like it’s soured, spoiled, like he’s reopened a wound he’s only now began to let heal, for the first time.

He’s relieved, of course. He’d be lying, if he said he wasn't happy to see him, once again. For all he was, for all he did— it could never negate the time they spent together. Sure, perhaps it was all for the god’s plan to use him, to destroy the city he was born and raised and knew, but that could never erase that connection he felt, then. To someone who he could relate to, to someone who was not too much unlike himself.

And yet he’s taken all this time to reappear. And, by the look of things— it wasn’t even meant to be. At least... on his end, anyway.

But he forces his breathing to still, his heart to rest, and he bites at his tongue until it weakly wails at him and he nearly tastes blood. “Joshua,” he says, and it’s almost like before. The people around them mean nothing; it’s just the two of them, facing each other, and he’s determined with a mission— of a sort, anyway. At least one he’s guessing that Joshua is more than reluctant to pursue, anyway.

“How have you been? I’ve… I’ve missed you.”

telltale

#[ the proxy. ] #[ the proxy ic. ] #[ ic. ] #[ thread. ] #[ a world beginning. ] #[ the proxy // joshua kiryu oo1. ] #i crave death

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

telltale

Remarkable.

One could say his story, was. In a way. But-- no one really knew it, could really tell it, aside from maybe a handful of people. But-- well, never himself. He’s still taking the time to sort it out, to pull it apart, to piece it together once again, before he would even be able to start stringing it into something coherent, and, well, he’s not making very much progress, is he? 

If sitting around and staring at it counts, them, perhaps, but he doubts it. And he lingers a little too long, thumbs the edges of the pieces, and he breaths and feels the air fluttering in his chest and thinks again of that world of timers and partners and games of death, of life, his death and life and whatever that was, that game that happened in between.

His story is many things. But, it isn’t quite over.

Or so he’d like to think. Or so he insists to himself.

Because he can’t quite move on, not yet. It’s-- almost a little surprising, because ‘sentimental’ wasn’t quite something he would’ve called himself: but, to be fair, there were many things he wouldn’t have called himself. At least before. Some things have changed, in that month; others were just plain wrong, as he slowly starts to learn.

(He’d forgotten, but he’s never quite forgiven. What happened with Joshua perhaps didn’t apply for the former, but it wasn’t exactly the first of the latter.)

But life moves on, and so he tries. It’s been months, after all; he’s wished, hoped, maybe even prayed (he felt silly, but that was how it is, he supposes; that was how nearly everything was, now, but his feeble attempts at, well, giving a shit has faded with every single one of his deaths), but-- it’s all been for naught, apparently.

Not that he expected much anything else, but a kid can still be disappointed.

So he stops, but the wish still stays pressed to the back of his heart, quiet, and he feels it thrum in quiet nights, lulls of days, when he’s with the others and feels that there’s a space, missing...

he feels it now, in the flash of curly hair.

He almost thinks he’s imagined it. But-- maybe once upon a time he’d dismiss hope as a silly thing, but now he allows it a moment to burst in nervous anticipation all over his insides, hitch his breath as he finds his heel spinning, his feet tugging him forward, forward, faster--

“J-- Joshua--?”

He refuses to dismiss this chance. 

@virtuoxo

#[ the proxy. ] #[ the proxy ic. ] #[ ic. ] #[ thread. ] #[ a world beginning. ] #[ the proxy // joshua kiryu oo1. ] #IMMMMMMM READY TO DIE #fuckign #kill me middi. just kill me

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

doodled my ndrv3 boys ( ˘ ³˘)♥

#[ gallery. ] #[ the detective. ] #[ the liar. ]

[synesthesiaghxst-blog]

AAA your art is so cuteeeeee!! Draw Himiko please, or tsumugi?? if you're fine with it..

S H E 

#[ gallery. ] #[ the copycat. ]