#GOD pls let this be true

[capitalisticveins]

Okay after being so bored that ive somehow decided to listen to Morgan (shocker i know) ive come to a conclusion

These two are gonna be so involved with The Balance im not joking in the slightest

LIKE

THEY CAN BE READ AS ANYYYY MAGIC USER AND ONLY OTHER SEERS WOULD KNOW THEYRE A SEER? AND BLAKE IS THE ONLY OTHER SEER ON THE CHANNEL??? AND HES HIDING AS A DREAMWALKER?? HELLO???

AND SEER OBSCURA CANT BE SEEN WITH SEER SIGHT?? FUCKING H I HOW ARE YOU???

The only thing deterring this is the timeline, since Morgan and his listener(April 2022) are 3 months ahead of The Balance(Jan 2022) but like we can keep Sunshine in that basement a lil longer👀

I already have a scenario in mind where either Morgan/his listener or Blake would have to hide being a seer from the other but that raises suspicion bc the other knows theyre a seer already and omg if theyre not in The Balance I will cry

[keferon]

*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

[blakbonnet]

If it's Ed falling into the water, it'd explain why Buttons gave him his jacket

But even better

What if it's his something blue and something borrowed 😭😭😭

and Stede getting the cute red outfit is his wedding look!

[jeres-red-g-string]

still can‘t wrap my head around this!!! the gloves, the hair, the sheer top????THE FUXKING GLOVES???? What if this is the beginning of a new era????? new stage outfits??? from green bolero to full black leather??? I AM BEGGING that we will get to see this look live at least once!!! Oh, and did I mention the gloves already?ughhh….

[theinfinitedivides]

PATHAAN F*CKING 2 BITCH

[izzy-b-hands]

You ever have a day where you feel like you're doing everything wrong, even when you're like. just doing things you normally do. And are alone, so like the only person i could in theory upset/piss off/etc right now is me myself, and Yet the feeling persists

Yeaaaaah. That's today's vibe for me apparently lmao

[rainbluealoekitten]

oh my fucking god i just want to be HELD PLEASE.

[magicveiled]

SOMEDAY . . . WHEN ALL OF THIS COMES TO AN END, WHEN WE CEASE TO EXIST, WHEN THE FLOWERS STOP BLOOMING, AND THE MOON FALLS OUT OF THE NIGHT SKY I WILL BE RIGHT THERE BESIDE YOU WHEN IT HAPPENS. HELL HATH THE GODS THAT TRY TO STOP ME.

[a-nybodys]

sorry steddie nation but im gonna say something controvesial

theres no way in literal HELL that eddie is a dom

[takeyourcyanide]

Medicated or not, you’re going to deteriorate anyway. Are you not just preventing the inevitable? There’s no point in fighting it, is there? I suppose preventing it means more time to have some fun. But what fun am I currently having? I’ve nothing to open up at the moment, so none. And even apart from that, they’re only giving you medication to suppress you, right? You know the truth, and authorities have never liked that.

[akkivee]

despite not quite sharing the same pink-gold-dark palette that otome and ichijiku’s speakers have, i think it’s kiiiiinda crazy kuukou and jyushi’s speakers match theirs in style better than nemu’s lol

[1eeminho]

why tf did i just have to find out via youtube shorts that johnny and haechan allegedly had a fivesome with three women??????? hello??,,

[corpsesoldier]

the john chapters in ntn are so fun, I love seeing people discussing his justifications and motivations and failings, he’s such a good villain.

his narration is very much the account of someone who cared so much and was backed right up to the edge and decided to just fucking swan dive off. and I think it’s broadly true, or at the very least is true to how he understood the events, if not the specifics—when questioned on the order of events, he stumbles. “what’s the difference between the truth and the truth you tell yourself,” etc.

I think his explanation to alecto, in the aftermath of her destruction, isn’t him looking for absolution. he doesn’t want to be forgiven. he reacts badly to alecto/harrow saying “I still love you,” and I think that still is doing a lot of heavy lifting, because that means I love you despite, and that implies wrongdoing. but he isn’t a guy who makes mistakes. I don’t think he wants forgiveness. forgiveness doesn’t exist. I think he wants his audience (alecto primarily, harrow and us circumstantially) to go “okay. you didn’t have any other options. I get it now.”

but this seems like john’s account more or less immediately after the destruction of the planet and his reshaping of alecto, and we the reader have seen what he does afterward, and see exactly how many options he had—ten thousand years worth of them—and how every time he chooses to double down and keep hunting, keep punishing, keep building a wall between himself and accountability. because he doesn’t make mistakes. but it doesn’t work on harrow, and it doesn’t work on us, because we exist outside of the narrative john tells himself. we know too much.

[h0estar]

DO NOT GIVE ME HOPE 😭

[sohcean]

and forget-me-nots; a love letter

the timestamp on this one says “december 17, 2019.” it has laid in the recesses of my drafts for three years now. 

i don’t remember what it was supposed to be about. all that’s left of the original idea is the title and the first two tags, the beginning of a bleeding heart ramble. and so it sat, while i stared at it and tried to remember. tried to remember what it was for.

a little ironic. but i’m pretty sure life has a sense of humor.

forget-me-nots, the first flower i assigned to im changkyun. a small, purplish blue flower that grows at the head of tall grass. always in little patches. perennials. they return, year after year. fond of the places where shadows grow. where streams sleep.

for three years, the letter laced with scorpion grass has sat, nearly forgotten. today, i remember. it was meant to be a comfort, a balm, a palm frond to block out oppressive sunlight, a candle to light a darkened room. a reminder. 

of respect. of fidelity. of faithfulness. of remembrance. of love.

a promise.

—i will remember that all of this was beautiful.

with this, i answer the man who simply asks to be remembered. who, in murmured, deep tones, mustered the courage to plead for love. who very seriously wished to illuminate his own weakness, his own struggle. who very earnestly radiates humanity.

and—

he who will be never be forgotten.

i’ve always had some difficulty writing about changkyun. it’s like… speaking of him at length pulls this heaviness along with it. this weight to his personhood that cannot be ignored when addressing him. it’s been called many things. many names, most of which i find myself disagreeing with.

and it will never be my place to name something that is within another person, is another person. a person i don’t know face-to-face, at that.

but if i may speak as to give voice to a theory, i would name it devotion.

i know no other words to grasp at it. i know no other words that can even stand next to it.

the moon writing poetry to what he says is the sun. and, in turn, words streaming out from a bleeding heart like moonlight. even behind clouds. even when only a sliver is left in the sky.

dedicated. just like the rest of them.

like such gentle perennials blooming above wild grass near a stream, popping his head in under the cover of the stars, writing something between a ramble and a poem and a love letter, and then falling asleep. and like the petals of periwinkle flowers tickling your fingertips when you brush against them, leaving some teasing remark in order to cover such deep vulnerability (something like roots). and like beautiful blossoms upon the mind, his entire presence etched in a communal heart (the color purple and rich red roses and cats with crystal eyes and a half-drank bottle of hennessey, for whatever reason).

and following the growth, the blossom, the bloom. something like shyness becoming an owned sensitivity and pre-disposal to the quiet and reflective. and such sensitivity becoming lent to creativity, lyrics and melodies and recognizable bass, lingering impressions of emotion buried in songs, tattooed skin with poetry of its own. becoming well-read, well-spoken. voicing wants and wishes.

—can i see you forever?

still silly. still young. still strange. but unfurling like the flower on his forearm.

and within this growth, there is a devotion to the self. a refusal to be something that feels inauthentic. a devotion to his own expression in his music, in his production, in choices concerning what comes next. a devotion to his comfort and his brotherhood (“i don’t want to be on a stage by myself.”)

a devotion to the path he treads, shadowed, maybe, and difficult indeed, but one with its own light at the end.

—the cold road became beautiful at once, hands like ice let them bloom like spring…

i was able to endure a particularly long night.—

and at the center of this blossom, at the most profound depth of this delicacy, lies a devotion to preciousness. to the urge to carry someone’s heart in your palms. to the beloved mundanity of walking at someone’s side. to the meaning of nothing and everything and the absurdity of love and the intimacy of returning and—

—every little thing i do has meaning because of you.

and i think it is the most heart-wrenching devotion of all.

a recognition that happiness is precious because bad days come. saying that the very word, “fan,” carries weight between his lips because the meaning is precious. that the gaze, gentle and gorgeous, is precious. that memory is precious. that affection is precious. that the concept of eternity is precious because you only yearn for it when you have something you want to protect.

that though the heart bleeds (i earnestly pray you won’t forget me), it beats (stay.)

and words i could say no better than the one who thought of them.

—but even when [i wasn’t fine] our monbebes were there. and more than anyone else, my members were by my side every day. i really want to express my gratitude to them. we eat together. we sleep together… they really became my family. even without doing anything, in my daily life they always approach when i want to share something precious.

the preciousness of family, of having something to rely on, of having someone grasp your wrist when you fall.

—to our monbebe, who safeguard these precious moments, i also want to say thank you.

the preciousness of connection, of having the strength to approach someone with glistening eyes and shuddering shoulders, of laughter and memory and the return of joy.

and arguably the most precious of all; someone who names their mother as their favorite artist, who picks a favorite trinket and shows it off with pride, who will always step back to give the spotlight to someone else, who notices, who would rather carry the sentiment than the accolade, who shows up in odd places just to support his family, who repeats gentle assuages again and again and again just to somehow get his affections across, who is brought (as a pillow) to company functions because he deserves to be there, who promises forever because he believes in it now, who is calmed by the whispers of a crowd, who smiles in an affectionately catlike manner, who rises eternally like a perennial, who sees the soul of a person and names it precious.

im changkyun, who devoted to the belief even the smallest and most inconsequential thing having meaning when it is looked at with love.

so in the spirit of preciousness, of devotion, of night and shadow and blooms, i give this, somewhat in the same manner as the one it is dedicated to—

leaving forget-me-nots pressed between pages, simply as a reminder:

i love you. i always will.

[esr10]

Is that confirmed?? Are we finally free from the number 5

i really hope i’m not jumping the gun with this one, but the sources seem reliable. let’s all hope and pray and hope and pray.