By the way. Because Keigo's hands are constantly covered by those thick gloves that mute any and all sensations, all day for years on end, they're actually extremely sensitive to touch.
It's not until you offer to massage his aching hands one day, carefully using your fingers to crack each knuckle for him while you press into his tendons with intimate attention, that he discovers his hands are an erogenous zone.
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Non Exhaustive list of claims me and pseud havemade about yoyo. do we even believe all of these things in our headcanons? Good quaestion
yoyo once ran a "cringe art" blog very briefly but all he put on it was his own childhood art, without specifying it was his?
yoyo has a bucket list which includes things like "convince a straight person they're actually closeted gay" and "commit perjury"
yoyo likes to follow tutorials its enriching for him
yoyo has his own pirate radio station that roboy helps him run under the moniker of "Undergraduate C". he plays nothing but meme shit and stuff that is straight up unlistenable
yoyo thinks he is a hollow shell of a person with masks upon masks where an identity should be
yoyo, if asked if he thinks people can be born evil, will answer "lol yeah, because i was!" it's hard to say if he's being ironic or not
yoyo would die if he went to the house on ash tree lane because he would do goofy tricks in the hallway and grind down the spiral staircase only to fall off and careen into the abyss
paradox!yoyo is shorter than yoyo's official canon height because it's disturbing for yoyo to only be an inch smaller than me
yoyo just gets real scared when he smokes weed. but this doesnt stop him?
yoyo is a prolific trollfic author with unreadable writings under dozens of pseudonyms for dozens of fandoms
yoyo had a brief stint as a member of poison jam under a different name and identity but he got booted out for consistently ruining movie night with his intentionally frustrating mockbuster choices
yoyo has attempted to join every single gang in tokyo-to and the ggs were his last pick
yoyo eventually picks up it/its pronouns in a mental illness kind of way
yoyo is worse at video games than pots is
yoyo would be really good at among us except everyone just automatically votes him imposter by default so he cant even play properly
yoyo regrets nothing
paradox!yoyo, if confronted with an alternate universe version of himself, would immediately tell them to kill themself
yoyo would honestly probably be a lot less fucked in the head once he's PAST THE DIRE AGE OF SIXTEEN YEARS OLD
yoyo has like one of those bootleg-ass 52-in-one fake game consoles. bastion of his childhood
yoyo often gets mistaken for being younger than he is and this is something he actively weaponizes
yoyo makes up a new backstory every time you ask where he's from
yoyo accepted at the tender age of 12 that he does not have a future and so he should just fuck around as much as possible since hes like doomed anyway
yoyo's hoodie is actually embroidered, which he did himself by hand
yoyo has a lot of really strong feelings about art in all its myriad of forms but good luck getting him to talk about it genuinely instead of saying some dumb bullshit
yoyo made a lot of jokes about himself being super suspicious and Totally Not A Rival Gang Spy Who's Gonna Betray The GGs when he joined because he thought it was funny. the only reason he was allowed to be in the gang at all despite this is because he made such a poor showing trying to prove himself to corn gum and roboy that they were internally like "if we turn him away i think he's going to straight up die out there."
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eadwulf grieve is not a person.
he is a weapon. a live weapon, an arcane weapon, a valuable weapon, but a weapon. his worth is in the blood he draws, in the lives he takes. people rarely make good weapons – they cut too easily, break too quickly when bent – but he can tend to the blood and the breaks, can be a good blade. a weapon is not a person.
he is the muscle. he was chosen for a kind of strength that the others like him didn't possess. his true purpose is in his flesh, it is his flesh. all the others have a mind like his, some surely far better than his. his thoughts are replaceable, insignificant. he matters most of all because he is a body and least of all because he is a mind. a body is not a person.
he is a machine. manufactured, refined, branded, released. he takes orders and executes them, does what he's told, does his job, doesn't ask questions. whatever small measures of individuality he may cling to are irrelevant. he lives free only because he does as he is asked. a machine is not a person.
he is the wolf. a hunter sent to stalk its prey, an animal caged and if ever not caged then certainly chained, kept on a leash until sicced on whoever has been causing problems for his master. he's always been an excellent scout – keen senses, acute focus, know a mark and sniff them out, let nothing stay hidden. a beast is not a person.
he is a ghost. relegated to the shadows, always hidden, always haunting, making his home in the unseen and the unheard and the unnoticed. he reaches out to touch the world and the world feels nothing in return. he is only ever watching, only ever the observer, known to the living only through things thrown and shattered and torn. a spirit is not a person.
he is part of a whole. he is astrid's other half, an extension of trent's will, a single cell in the sprawling organism of the volstrucker. he lives always latched to another, joined to the point of indistinguishability. he would be dead without them; he would be nothing without them. a piece is not a person.
a boy named eadwulf died years ago, killed alongside his loving parents, the spark of life choked mercilessly out of them all. he is buried, now, at the bottom of an unmarked grave deep within a ribcage, tucked safely in an old emptiness where once there might have been a beating heart.
the dark thing that walked back out of the house that night was something hollowed, something jagged, something changed.
what remains of eadwulf grieve is not a person.
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