private eiji hino of kamen rider ooo. heavily personal interpretation-based. very low activity, mostly friends only. sideblog. pinterest.
DEAR READER
Peter Solarz
cherry valley forever

tannertan36
todays bird
h

shark vs the universe
NASA
YOU ARE THE REASON

titsay
styofa doing anything

Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

blake kathryn
tumblr dot com

pixel skylines
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
art blog(derogatory)

PR's Tumblrdome
seen from Finland
seen from Bangladesh

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Netherlands

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United Kingdom
@unwanting
private eiji hino of kamen rider ooo. heavily personal interpretation-based. very low activity, mostly friends only. sideblog. pinterest.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
breaking my silence to rb that gifset.........
you didn't think of the consequences.
at this hour, foot traffic has slowed to something of a crawl. people move around him in a lethargic drag of loosened work-clothes and apathy. eiji is no different, infinitesimal in the eveningās daze. his suit jacket has been slung carelessly over the back of the park bench, with no regard for how the sleeves kiss the filthy ground. his tie hangs messily around his open collar after a quick tug of his wrist. it had been deftly knotted this morning by someone else, a painstaking gesture undone in an instant⦠he merely adds it to the list of things he has to apologize for. itās grown long enough to wind around his neck all the same.
his phone buzzes against his leg, shoved deep into the pocket of his slacks, for the tenth or eleventh time in thirty minutes. a low sigh from the depths of his lungs is the only sign of exasperation he allows. he doesnāt scrub his increasingly weary face or push the unkempt hair back from his eyes⦠thereās nothing more than the same patient upturn of his lips, even when thereās no one around to convince. twelve, thirteen more. perhaps he should have just left it behind at his desk along with the rest of his abandoned responsibilities.
here he is, playing hooky, as if still meandering in the days of his youth. more aptly, ārunning away.ā it seems that he still has a penchant for it. the never ending sky that seems to cage him in from all directions no longer feels like a beckoning call, but a miasma of dread. a taunting cicadaās cry in the manic swelter of night. a low, tolling bell reverberating its ominous tone ceaselessly. lately, he finds himself staring out at the sea with a morbid sense of wanderlust, the train tracks, the traffic crossing, the twelve story drop from the window.
if he could just get away. a childish wish that persists from the bottom of his heart. itās despicable. he doesnāt want to be that person anymore, the eiji hino who runs away and denounces himself. heās supposed to do the best he can with whatās in front of him. he fails to do so again and again.
the slightly scuffed dress shoes peeking from the mouth of those familiar loose-fitting pants settled in front of him are proof of this. sooner or later, he knew this is how it would end up, who he would be answering to. his uneventful venture has come to an uneventful end.
ā sorry⦠iāve made trouble for you again, havenāt i? ā eiji begins, softly. the remorseful upturn of his brows complement a meek smile. itās a classic look of his, birthed in the apex of adolescence, insincerely self-flagellant to appease teachers, parents, and superiors alike; a lukewarm insistence that he never meant any harm. none of it meets his dull, murky eyes. they bore into the man in front of him through the unnecessary frills, communicating an unequivocal sentiment of their own. he knows heāll be seen through, he knows this little display isnāt placating. it might even tick him off. the thought doesnāt deter him, or rather, it spurs him on. he finds himself wanting that irritable sneer directed towards him, those slender hands righteously fisted in the collar of his dress shirt. give him an earful, shake some sense into him, insist that heās better than this. someone has to believe it⦠not for any reassurance that heās been heroic in striving for whatās right or anything of the sort, but for the fact that thereās still even one person left whom heās capable of letting down. the mere notion swells his ego shamefully.
ā i really was going to come back⦠ā he continues, though his sincerity wavers pitifully between his teeth. what difference would it have made, anyway? his efforts would be nothing but obligatory damage control for a mess he didnāt particularly care to clean. a deep bow of his humblest apologies which amount to no more than the dirt beneath his feet. though, in the back of his mind, he knows itās more than that. at least when it comes to this, why heās so agitated, why he came looking for him rather than awaiting his returnā¦
ā ...were you worried? ā he breathes, an intimate whisper, bearing the weight of all the sins heāll be made to count. he reaches for shotaroās fingers, eclipsing them with his own. loose enough to draw away from with ease, yet heavier than anything else. a siren wails faintly in the distance. it paints the air a shade of disconsolation. a crisis such as this is something uncannily mundane. theyāll continue on forever and ever. heāll do this tomorrow⦠heāll do this for endless tomorrows. heāll do this until he dies.
his fingers travel to his wrist, bringing the backs of his knuckles to meet the clammy surface of his forehead. in an act of patronizing reverence, he presses his face into his hand in something mimicking a nuzzle, eyes closed in anesthetized contentment. itās all alright. shotaroās hands feel warm and kind as always. ā iām sorry, ā he repeats, but his voice has become far-off, like heās fled away again already.
Closing my eyes and screaming "waaaa!" while shooting a handgun but I have perfect accuracy and drop 6 targets then reload in 0.2 seconds and hit 6 more

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
hello! please ā” or āŗ if you're interested in interacting with an independent, private, & selective megumi fushiguro of jujutsu kaisen!
youāre as lost as he was... 2 goda <3
itās quiet in the lull of late evening, and the light is dim. the sharp outline of another person is perceptible, but the features melt into shadow, like an illusion of anonymity. he wonders if it had been done on purpose so that he wouldnāt have to be looked at. the prospect is something goda only half-understands. his eyes glint curiously in the dark, periodically wandering towards the unoccupied billiards table just a few feet over. the balls are scattered, forgotten in uncanny stillness, like someone had abandoned them in the middle of a game. heās never played, but he knows itās not supposed to end like this. a long while back, shotaro had tried to teach him, in that venerable way of his, as if proud to know something eiji didnāt. itās clear in the whirl of memories he finds himself groping around in. the weight of slender but sure hands guiding his fingers and elbows into the proper posture, the secret smile heād worn as heād let himself be corrected. he knows how to play this game, and more⦠but, perhaps it wasnāt an unfinished round at all⦠perhaps someone had merely struck the cue in a fit of frustration. a contained and inconsequential mess. heād seen something like this, too, somewhere blurred and buried in this bodyās consciousness. lost to some unnamable emotion.
a thoughtful hum passes through his nose, the sound trickling over his fingers, which are busy smudging amorphous shapes in the thin layer of dust coating the table. the truth of the matter evades his understanding. the murky veil of feeling that shrouds his face and voice in the corners of fuzzed recollections⦠perhaps itās why this fascinates him, why heās sitting here in the dark with him, poking around, playing detective himself. when he pulls his hand away, the dust has filled into the grooves of his fingerprints, obscuring them in grey. he pinches it between them, rolling and turning it over like the detectiveās words in his head. was he insulting him? was this pity? whichever the answer was, it didnāt particularly matter to him. he rubs his fingers clean of it. a false blank slate. when he finally cants his head to meet his eyes, itās with a gentle, dimpled smile. a movement telegraphed by muscle memory.Ā
ā well, isnāt that great? ā he croons, ā thereās no difference between us. āĀ
he moves closer, because thatās what his host would have done. nearly nose to nose, enough to be able to inhale his scent. itās distantly familiar, though this is his first time experiencing it so vividly. even the ache it brings is pleasant. he smiles wider, and the black expanse of his pupils swallow all else, blown ever-wide in delight. this, the air, the light, the ground beneath his feet, all please him indescribably. being ālostā was just as wonderful.Ā
ā me, or him, it doesnāt really matter when weāre the same⦠shouldnāt you understand something like that? ā the kindredness shared between replacements, he means. itās said with such earnestness, as if the scathing cruelty of it was completely devoid⦠but therein lies the glaring difference between them: hino eiji does not possess this sort of innocence. in godaās case, the wasp-sting of his sentiments are neither intentional nor of any concern to him. he brings a hand to shotaroās cheek, a haphazard mimicry of something heād seen before⦠but also his own impulse. coaxingly, as if to say, āsee?āĀ heās warm against his cold palm, thrumming with life underneath. blood, tissue, tendon. woven and pulsing in that gentle manner heās yet to become attuned to. he runs a thumb over the swell of bone beneath his eyelid, delicate, curious, overcome with a desire to feel. it doesnāt matter from whom it had come from⦠he wishes to merge into one. thereās no need for any distinguishment.Ā
ā shotaro-san, ā he purrs, with a borrowed cadence, his fingertips tracing the veins in his neck. " you opened your door for a reason, didn't you? "
his body lurches forth,Ā huddling himself from the nostalgia and the overwhelming presence which looms over.Ā praise is a bitter pill which grows ineffective at its misuse.Ā now,Ā heās digging into scabbed-over wounds for a chance to feel the aftermath.Ā it's just a tug of a lead thatās stiflingly tight,Ā an infection that wonāt improve in the end.Ā youāre the one going through something painful right now.Ā right,Ā and what would i give to breathe from your complacent pity.Ā
his haggard gaze squints forward,Ā the darkness ahead is a dizzying assault to the detectiveās senses.Ā but even that sense of the unknown alludes to a comfort he seeks;Ā to not be seen or regarded by him,Ā nor anyone else.Ā eiji is a relentless doppelgƤnger that no otherworldly lookup can solve, trailing right after his shadow.Ā i know how you feel.Ā so, heād found another weakness? that's not good, not at all.Ā shotaro's body almost staggers by how forcefully he turns to face the rider.Ā āĀ i don't want to hear it. how would you know how i feel?Ā have i even said anything about it?Ā āĀ his intonation is equally as hushed,Ā bordering to a hiss.Ā those emotions fizzle out like soda pop, but is it honestly a liability to amend for it? doesn't eiji find delight to be a physical haunting he's unable to purge out?Ā is he happy like this, when he gets right to the point?Ā the detectiveās blood boils, vision dims,Ā and that answer is clear enough;Ā he won't know what he's thinking,Ā and he never will.
onward, every direction he looks upon remains a copy of the previous room.Ā the grated floors hold them up from an interminable abyss,Ā but there'd be relief to plummet into aĀ certain nothingness.Ā he knows where they must part,Ā itās sooner than later.Ā āĀ ... up ahead,Ā thereās two ways we can go.Ā itās better to split up.Ā you go one path,Ā iāll go the other one.Ā understand?Ā āĀ Ā
another thread has snapped gracelessly, the unfulfilling payoff to his relentlessness settling like frayed string at their feet.Ā Ā
a soft, startled sound trembles from the back of his throat, but he otherwise gives nothing in response. merely still and unsatisfying silence now that theyāre face to face like this. it's the same impasse they always find themselves in. eiji had pulled this honesty out from him, cold and mechanical as if gutting a fish, yet with those slimy entrails in his hands he can do nothing but discard it entirely. would it have given him catharsis if heād chosen to argue? tactlessly insisted heād only wanted to help? passively rolled over and apologized? snapped right back at him? it wouldnāt matter. theyāve done all of these things before. theyāve seen enough of each otherās insides. thereās no satisfying answer.Ā there's no end goal to his ceaseless prodding, other than to stick his fingers into something. he's wrist deep with nothing clutched between them.
even so, in his own hypocrisy, he finds disappointment at this. heās left in the slack of the lead, yet again, no closer than he had begun. no more empty or filled. his eyes glaze over in disillusion, beneath the phlegmatic disguise of the mask. for some reason, it fills him with a renewed sense of self-disgust. there has never been anyone else to blame. Ā Ā
ā ... sure. ā he finally says, without qualm, his gaze turned nowhere in particular. the affection has left his voice, replaced by careful neutrality. ā you know whatās best. ā
when i think of goda i often think of this quote from tsuboyama about walter sullivan from silent hill 4
scattered barely coherent thoughts about goda.. sort of
i've mentioned this before but i think it is very intentional that goda's representative medals are arthropods, which are necrophagous animals that aid in the decomposition process of dead things. there's a lot of emphasis on how ankh's possession of shingo is what eventually brings his body from the brink of death and allows for a full recovery he wouldn't otherwise be able to achieve, but eiji is just.. dead with no hope of survival, not even from prolonged possession, or so that is how it seems. there's that brief moment of consciousness, but otherwise he is presented as nothing more than a corpse being puppeted.. and that's it. there's nothing to be recovered. i kind of choose to believe it doesn't stop the body from decomposition but instead greatly slows the process down.
with this being established, unlike shingo, there are no bodily processes to be maintained. a corpse doesn't need to be fed, and doesn't need its wounds to be healed. if goda tries to eat for the fun of it, can he even taste it? he can will the body to move, but can he force bodily processes, like bloodflow and digestion?
personally, i choose to believe that he's cold to the touch, and has an array of unhealed wounds that would be festering if he couldn't slow/delay decomposition.. the clothes and long hair cover this for the most part.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
every day i think about how in the shogun movie it's implied eiji would have really liked to be a father and i start breaking everything in sight
bold what applies to your muse
alcoholism.Ā Ā amnesia.Ā Ā anxiety.Ā Ā appetite loss.Ā Ā binge eating.Ā Ā co-dependence.Ā Ā cynicism.Ā Ā defensiveness.Ā Ā denial.Ā Ā depersonalization.Ā Ā depression.Ā Ā derealization.Ā Ā devaluation.Ā Ā displacement.Ā Ā dissociation.Ā Ā drug abuse.Ā Ā emotional detachment.Ā Ā flashbacks.Ā Ā flat affect.Ā Ā guilt.Ā Ā hallucinations.Ā Ā hypersomnia.Ā Ā hypervigilance.Ā Ā hypocondria.Ā Ā idealization.Ā Ā insomnia.Ā Ā intellectualization.Ā Ā introjection.Ā Ā isolation.Ā Ā low self esteem.Ā Ā narcissism.Ā Ā night terrors.Ā Ā obsessive compulsion.Ā Ā overeating.Ā Ā panic attacks.Ā Ā passive aggression.Ā Ā paranoia.Ā Ā phobias.Ā Ā projection.Ā Ā psychosis.Ā Ā rationalization.Ā Ā regression.Ā Ā repression.Ā Ā restrictive eating.Ā Ā risky sex.Ā Ā self-harm.Ā Ā somatization.Ā Ā splitting.Ā Ā sublimation.Ā Ā suicidal ideation.Ā Ā sleep walking.Ā Ā suppression.Ā Ā thousand yard stare.Ā Ā triggers.Ā Ā trust issues.Ā Ā violence.Ā Ā whiplash temper.
tagged by: stole ittttt
eventually i want to talk about how eiji's lack of respect for people's boundaries/agency manifests in multiple ways... the most obvious is his need to insert himself into other's issues which is kind of standard for the average rider protagonist but he also constantly invades people's personal space it's kind of ridiculous. i like that this juxtaposes how he doesn't let others get close to him (emotionally) and kind of abandons people after "fixing" them it's a very interesting disconnect
i need to start collecting these. it's EGREGIOUS
the thing about zio that makes me go 𤨠the most is the implication that if eiji was never able to become a kamen rider he would have eventually just crawled back to the life he hated. which like i could kind of see as a form of self punishment/atonement because his entire life's purpose is self-sought atonement but i just cant imagine it. I'll have fun with it anyway though

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
if something happened to you, i would die. Shudder
itās unusual, that shotaro has come home while the midday sun still filters in through the windows. his work has kept him especially busy these past few weeks, or at least thatās the good natured assumption eiji has come to by how rarely he sees him. if it happened to be that he was avoiding him instead⦠he had no intention to press him about it. either way, theyāve not had much opportunity to speak, or when they do itās always clipped and impersonal. thereās the occasional morning greeting when the atmosphere between them is particularly amicable. after everything, this is only to be expected. he holds no resentment for it.
when i leave next, it might be some time before we see each other again, heād said with an ill-fitting coyness, seated in the middle of shotaroās bed as if it were his own. the surrounding clean scent of linen and his friend was more pleasant than usual, as if imprinting itself in his memory. as if this moment echoed with a sense of finality. i donāt know when iāll be back. it would have been more truthful to say āifā rather than āwhenā... but he canāt bring himself to say such a thing. however, itās a kindness he can only extend for a fleeting moment, because the supremely unkind statement he follows up with is: if you donāt hear from me, please donāt worry about it too much.
thereās no means for him to put himself on the line anymore, not in the way he used to, at least. as of now, his body is wholly undamaged, and has been for a long time. a clean and unmarred physique that doesnāt suit a hero. though, he doesnāt need to remind him of this. he should be more than familiar with its uncanny pristine state. this aspect of the relationship between them remains true beyond the distance⦠or perhaps because of it. the smile he gives him as if to silently relay this fact is both weightless and smothering. after all these years, they can say such things without words. itās a cruel and roundabout act of warfare. thereās a gentle exhale, an interlude to more white lies, accompanying the kind way his eyes crinkle, though there is no light reflected in them. itās all swallowed up in deep black. desolately asking, youāll play along, wonāt you? eiji leans back on the heels of his hands, his posture almost tauntingly open. his eyes flit over to the other side of the room, drifting from shotaroās feet which are planted in the entryway, as if to block him from exiting, all the way up to his face, to look at him properly. he owes him this much at least.
ā you wouldnāt die, ā he lilts airily, like he were just telling a joke, like shotaro hadnāt said anything that warranted an honest response. ā there are too many people who wouldnāt let that happen. ā itās not the same for me, is the unspoken continuation of that statement, remaining haphazardly hidden beneath his tongue. it isnāt a sentiment he feels any bitterness over⦠heād made it this way himself, after all, in spite of the efforts wasted upon him. but, that truth must be in part the reason theyāre having this conversation in the first place, so itās best not to bring it up. though, this is all unnecessary, anyway. heās well aware he isnāt fooling anyone. heās well aware that this serves to do nothing but frustrate him at best, and to make him feel as if heās been made a fool of at worst. it wears him down. it widens that unbearable, sprawling distance between them. but, like most of his endeavors, this exercise in frivolity is for the sake of his own feelings. this is his alternate method of escape when the exit is blocked.
ā by the way, ā he continues, fluffy and light despite how thick the air has become, ā i washed your sheets for you. ā he cants his head to the side, a paradoxically innocent display, as if challenging him to say any more on the subject. itās meaningless. every exchange between them has become meaningless. this is for the sake of his own feelings.
eventually, everybody has to come home.
a crosshatch of scabbing, shallow scratches burn lethargically along his forearms. the clientās cat had struggled in his grip the whole way back. the trouble was worth it for the smile heād received in return⦠itās a miracle that heās still able to feel a sentiment like that, after everything. heās vaguely satisfied, for the moment.
itās short lived.Ā
the waning sun tinges the city orange. the job was finished before nightfall, when it would be much harder to search, which was the best case scenario. all things considered, it couldnāt have gone better. but he just canāt help feeling wrong. the stiff set of shotaroās shoulders is telling⦠like heās holding something back. eiji remains lax and turns a blind eye, out of mercy, out of his own cowardice. he has no desire to talk about this right now. or ever, really. the ever-present breeze has begun to feel accusatory. the air between them teems with a sort of tension, humming unsteadily, an arrhythmic beating of insect wings. a sweltering uncertainty housed in the underbelly of friendliness. itās been like this lately, where every exchange feels like a double entendre; an anagram for some sort of confession hidden between words. when things become like this⦠he finds that latent urge to disappear creeping back up again.Ā
the message comes through loud and clear. he knows just what heās talking about. how could he not? heās seen his tears, his miserable expressions, the way his eyes quiver when he pleads with him to stay⦠his breezy smile stays perfectly in place even though it feels as if heās being flayed right open. he doesnāt want to be looked inside of.Ā
ā that was really tough, huh? ā his guilt bleeds in a slow trickle down his wrist. he puts on a pathetic voice, but in truth heās completely indifferent to the pain. he has to play his role, however. upholding this status quo is the easiest option⦠but, this in itself is pathetic, too. heās begging for them both to go along with the idea that heās someone with his head so far up in the clouds he doesnāt know left from right. it's degrading to both parties. ā but, she seemed so happy to have her back. iām glad we were able to find her⦠well, it was you who did most of the work. ā he has no talent for finding missing pets, it seems. only for going missing himself.Ā
even now, heās running. off somewhere he can remain unseen.
" i was glad to be able to do something to help, either way. " his voice melts with the setting sun, gaze cast towards the pavement. it's a bashful display, it's an excuse to not look at him. " i was starting to forget what it felt like to do something for someone else... thank you. "