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I dont think he is of sound mind

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they do this the entire way home

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Carmine and Kieran my beloveds

Theyre the siblings ever

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Old Lasso doodles of the delusional friend group I have in my mind

(BB Academy girls + Nemona)

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proud to present what i just spent way too long on

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shout out to house md season 2 for having an episode's moral dilemma revolve around toxic yuri. woman gives up half her liver for her girlfriend who has secretly been planning to break up with her but it turns out the woman knows and is only doing the surgery so the girlfriend will have to stay out of guilt. up there in the top 5 crazy homosexuals in this show

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Day 3 mundane

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I am in the middle of carrying a the Red Door Puzzle game about to close it out, and my bra-less wife brings me suffering (not asked for)

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mikuuuuu birthdayyyy

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D-ne🎀

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“I’ve just… always liked the stories about the ogre, that’s all.”

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i’ve decided to dedicate my life to “me”. if you see me from now on i am all about “me” checkmate atheists

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I'm so close to finishing the 30k word C-ta fic... Someone give me strength

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The Breathless Generation

A life lived in Lumière, under the gaze of the Monolith.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

You were born to a world holding its breath. As you slept in your mother’s arms, your grandfather sat by her bedside, holding her hand, a smile crumpling his face as he looked at you.

You won’t remember him. None of your generation will. Your mother’ll say you liked playing with his garland on the day of the 67th Gommage; you asked why you can’t have one, and he laughed and said, “Don’t be so hasty!”

She liked that memory. You learned to stop asking what happened next. And next. And next and next and next and for a few years, the Gommage didn’t penetrate your little world. You ran free through the winding streets of Lumière playing Expedition with your friends, and every year you looked forward to seeing the great boats sail forth into the unknown, the whoops and cheers and hope that lifted the city and blew away the last of the lingering petals.

61 is going to succeed! 60 is full of your heroes, nothing is gonna stop them! Your best friend’s dad is on 59, he has to come back! Well, they’d laid the trail for 58. And 57. One of them just had to succeed. They just had to.

You found yourself staring at the monolith one day. A thought hit you: how old will you be when the Paintress comes for you? How old will your parents be?

You don’t do the math. You don’t do the math. You don’t do the math.

There’s a tailor at your door one day. She asks for your dad. The look in his eyes - when was he going to tell you?

“You’re going on the next Expedition?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You don’t have to leave yet! You’ve still got two more years, Dad!”

Oh. You did do the math after all. And he tells you he’s sorry, that he’s doing this for you, for your mother who Gommages next year, for everyone that comes after, and you can’t stand it, you can’t stand how he’s talking like he’s already dead!

“You don’t even believe what you’re saying! You don’t think it’s gonna work, do you? You don’t think you’re gonna save her!”

“I-”

“Then why leave? Why? Why! Why can’t we just have this time together? Why can’t you stay with us!”

And he doesn’t have an answer. You weren’t gonna see off his boat, but you changed your mind that morning. You held your mother’s hand as they sailed into the sunrim, towards those two blazing numbers etched on the monolith, etched on the spirit of everyone in Lumière.

51.

Looking at the grey strands on your mother’s face, you closed your eyes and prayed.

You were born to a world holding its breath, and that last year with her was suffocating. You’d seen it happen to your friends, seen the light die in their eyes as they were shuffled to aunts and uncles and family friends and orphanages. You were going to be 17 - you’re too old, you’ll be on your own… unless it works.

You thought you’d given up on Expeditions, but every night, that little bit of hope claws at you. That little voice says maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe you don’t have to say goodbye.

Maybe you’ll see your Dad again.

Maybe this will all turn out okay.

It’s still clawing at you as you fix your rose to her garland. You can see it in her eyes, too. Nothing in this world hurts as much as hope.

“It’s getting late,” your mother says, and tries for a smile. “You… don’t have to walk me to the harbour. I’ll be fine. Everything’s…everything’s gonna be fine, okay? Everything’s gonna be-”

And you grab her and you hug her and you squeeze like you can keep her from dissolving into petals. She squeezes back, and for a moment, you can pretend. For a moment, you can close your eyes and turn away from the setting sun.

But tomorrow comes.

50.

The stupidest part of you still wonders if your Dad’s out there. Maybe you’re not technically an orphan. Like that makes any difference.

49.

You were born to a world holding its breath. You don’t know what life tastes like; you think of your mother telling stories about her grandfather, and now you look around at the garlands on people who’ve barely started to gray. Living to 67 sounds unimaginable.

48.

And you won’t even be this lucky. You’ve done the math - you’ll get 32. You’ve just grown up, and your life’s already more than half over. You stare at that monolith, at that fucking Paintress just across the water, and there’s a rage in you, a suffocating fury.

47.

It’s not fair.

46.

It’s NOT FAIR!

45.

Kids still play in the streets, but there’s less than you remember. Good, you think. The orphanages don’t need any more.

44.

They still play at Expeditions. The crowds seeing them off each year have thinned, but the kids always come, dressed in their motley costumes with armbands, eyes shining with excitement.

43.

You wonder when they’ll learn.

42.

You wonder if they know what a grandfather is.

41.

You wonder what their world will look like when they Gommage. The world’s already changed so much since you were a kid - you go to the market and wonder where the crowd is.

40.

Everywhere you look, you see it in people’s eyes. You see their resignation.

39.

It’s not

38.

long

37.

now.

36.

Four more years. You’re at the bar, nursing a drink, staring at that damn expedition poster. For those who come after… tch. It’s a sick joke, isn’t it? No one ever comes back. There’s no point wasting your precious time on a pipe dream.

35.

The expedition’s tattered banner twitches above their stage. They’re trying to sign people up on the day of the Gommage - they must really be desperate. Your friend, a garland of roses around her neck, pauses to listen.

“What are you doing?” You try to crack a smile. “A little late for that, aren’t you?”

You expect her to laugh back, but she lets out a sigh. “I should’ve gone last year.”

“And do what? They didn’t come back. None of them come back.”

“Yeah.” You watch her shoulders sag. She takes one last look at the expedition, and then turns away. “I guess you’re right.”

34.

You stand overlooking the harbour, watching the Paintress rise once again. You thought you were ready for this moment; ever since your mother faded away, you knew it was coming for you. You did the math.

But you watch her brush away the glowing letters, and paint your final year on this earth onto the horizon.

33.

You were born to a world holding its breath, and suddenly you realise you can’t breathe. Your heart pounds in your chest, and your knees go weak; you grab the railing with shaking hands. Down on the harbour, you can see the people dissolving, can see the petals rising up into the air.

You’ll be petals, too. You’ve got one short year left of your one short life, and there’s nothing, nothing you can do about it. You feel like you’re going to throw up, or punch something, or maybe you’ll just throw yourself into the fucking harbour now and get this over with because you never even got a chance to live your life because you spent it COUNTING DOWN!

It’s not fair. It’s not fair!

It was never going to be fair, this life. And those that come after - there’s so few left. You look at the ship all kitted out to sail tomorrow, and the stupidest part of you wonders what it looks like on the other side of the sea.

Nothing in this world hurts as much as hope. There’s a peace to this slow suffocation, like a soldier bleeding out on a battlefield, slipping into comforting darkness. When you know nothing’s going to save you, you don’t have to try. You just have to wait.

Your whole life, that’s what you’ve done. Wait.

You were born to a world holding its breath. But you look at the tired flag of the Expedition silhouetted on the docks, and you realise you can’t take this any longer.

Whatever it takes, even if it's just for a moment, you need to breathe free.

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very excited to be here in Kitakami and catch this ogre I've heard so much about

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attempted to give Kieran a cooler hairstyle.