#do i throw out everything we built or keep it | threads

[komvrebi]

most people would look at the day they had just spent at the beach, at the aquarium, and think they had a lovely vacation. and while it was true, this mission was unlike any other, it was still a mission. it still required work. and truly, getou was tired.

and he knew, for as tired as he was, gojo was all the more tired. satoru hadn't slept once since they'd picked up this mission, and he was running infinity almost constantly. suguru tried to approach him about it, but he simply wasn't having it.

he had to find some way to get through to him, to get him to relax, even if for only a moment. but he just wasn't sure what approach would work best.

suguru grabbed some snacks and headed back to their hotel room, quietly opening the door so he wouldn't awake riko or kuroi. he sat down on the bed next to gojo and gave him a small smile, pushing snacks into his hands. "are you sure you don't want to sleep for a little while? i'll stay awake. i promise."

@parieha

[komvrebi]

the way they ignored his actual question was enough for him to know that they didn't actually have anything they were genuinely upset about. just dramatic, as usual. he raised an eyebrow as they touched his hair. "you ask like you don't already know the answer, satoru," he teased. "it was shorter. practice. and some help, sometimes."

The smirk hat pulls at the corner of Satoru's lips is enough to betray the lack of actual resentment, even when they try to puff blushed cheeks in apparent annoyance.

"Was your hair always this long?"A hand reaches forward to softly flip Suguru's hair, staying maybe too long for such a simple action, "I thought it was way shorter... how to you get it all in that tiny bun?"

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

(I actually think TTPD is full of so many parallels to older work that I could like, quote the entire album.)

Do it (inserts image of Kermit the frog wearing a black cloak)

Jokes aside, I’d love to read what parallels you found with her older work

OK well now that you’ve put me on the spot, I can’t actually think of them that freely 😂

This isn’t going to be exhaustive, nor particularly accurate I guess, but maybe more like… similarities? (Man, I’m gonna fumble the ball here.)

This is kind of out of left field, but from the very first listen, for instance, But Daddy I Love Him reminded me of Love Story. I joked on release night that But Daddy was just the unfiltered version of Love Story; the girl is the Scarlet Letter because she’s the loud, mouthy heathen who’s been caught with her dress unbuttoned iykwim. The girl in LS feels misunderstood, is infatuated with this boy, begs to run away with him away from the prying eyes and judgment… Which is exactly what the narrator in BDILH feels too, except more explicitly. The girl in LS is demure and mindful, the one in BDILH gives zero fucks. Which is reflective of Taylor’s own evolution in her relationship to her public image, I feel: she strove to be a perfect role model never putting a foot wrong in her younger days, but the whole point of TTPD is that she is done listening to anyone else’s opinions on how she lives her life. In LS, the boy talks to her dad and pulls out a ring, and in BDILH, no one else is invited to that wedding after everything she’s learned. For all we’ve talked about how one of the major themes of TTPD is about reclaiming her youth, I think it’s kind of genius that BDILH, intentionally or not, plays on the song that launched her megastardom as a teenager and gives it a grown-up bite.

This is maybe less parallels and more just a continuation of a story, but I think one of the obvious ones is You’re Losing Me and So Long, London. One of the immediate callbacks is the thread from “I can’t find a pulse, my heart won’t start anymore” to “I stopped CPR, after all it’s no use.” YLM comes at a crisis point, the make or break moment of the relationship, and SLL is the aftermath reflecting on that. Her stopping the CPR after that moment in YLM is what leads to the dissolution of the relationship and the reflection in SLL.

The rest of the two songs mirror each other so painfully well. “Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?” To “You say I abandoned the ship, but I was going down with it.” “How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying?” To “You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?” “I know my pain is such an imposition” to “Just how low did you think I'd go before I'd self-implode?” “How long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life?” To “So how much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me? How much tragedy?” “I wouldn’t marry me either” to “I died on the altar waiting for the proof.”

And I think the one that really brings it full circle is the evolution from “My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick,” to “And I'm just getting color back into my face, I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place.” In YLM she’s dying a slow death at her partner’s ignorance (unintentional or willful) of the crisis she’s in, and in SLL, the decision to leave has brought her back to life, even if she mourns everything she had to give up to get there. To go from sitting in the room that was once lit with what they loved to sitting in the dark mulling this life-changing decision, to reflecting on the moment of “warm sun” in her life that this relationship will ultimately end up being in her memories (but just that: a memory, not a life) is really nuanced, and really shows how it’s the end of a chapter but not the end of the book.

Another parallel that is so powerful is between The Manuscript and, among others, All Too Well, but really so much of her work from her younger days, as well as the ATW music video. This is maybe cheating because it’s not like a 1:1 parallel, but just the way that The Manuscript reframes so much of her older work and experiences is illuminating. The way in ATW the early memories are wistful, feel like home, etc., and you can feel the warmth radiate through the music and the lyrics, but the slightly unsettling melody of The Manuscript highlights the unease in which that situation actually occurred. To go from sweet disposition and wide-eyed gazes heading out of town to be together, to realizing a decade later that that might have been less romance and more manipulation? What a gut punch.

Similarly, when you think about “nights when you made me your own” in the context of “He said that if the sex was half as good as the conversation was, soon they'd be pushin' strollers,” you really feel how her youthful naivety about their relationship was heavily influenced by the way this person laid it on thick. Like, all these years later, she wasn’t wrong to feel like this thing was serious, or for being so bewildered when it ended. It’s just that what she failed to realize at the time is that what she took as a promise, he intended as foreplay. Then the way the bridge of The Manuscript reveals what is presumably the shooting of the ATW video, where she comes to the realization of just what she went through and how she’s been able to use it to make her art and heal? That’s beautiful.

There are soooooooooo many more, but I’d be here all day, and similarly, I can’t think of any off the top of my head.

[saythenamecabebe]

You're Losing Me...

A|N: Sorry if this sucks. I wrote this while I was half asleep, don't ask why, lol. I recommend listening to Taylor Swift's song 'You're Losing Me'. But yeah, I hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think. There might be some parts of the song that I cut off because it would've been too long, and yeah. I'm not good with long stories, lol

Warnings ⚠️: break up, cheating. I'm not sure what else. I forgot

Pairings: Junkook x reader (mentions of a Suga and Jimin)

"I don't understand," Jungkook says.

"I know you don't," I tell him. "But we can't continue to live like this. It feels as if this relationship hasn't been working for quite some time, and I feel like I'm just trying to hold onto the last thread of hope that it would eventually go back to how it was. I hoped that you would've left her, but you never did. I loved you so fucking much, sadly I still do love you, but I had to come to terms with the fact that you don't love me anymore. You chose her over me, and that's fine. I just can't do this anymore."

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't.

Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

I was truly hoping by some miracle that it was just an insane prank and hoping that Jungkook would never do a thing like that to me, but the ache in my heart reminds me that it truly hppened. I looked out of the open window, the sun had gone down hours ago, and no light was left in the cold room. Darkness is all I see and feel. Darkness that swallows my frame, darkness that's slowly seeping into my soul and mind. I sigh, and I slowly get up from the couch. I close the window and head upstairs to my room.

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix

Always risin' from the ashes

Mendin' all her gashes

You might just have dealt the final blow

'What do I do now? Do I throw everything away, or do I keep it? Will this pain eventually go away? Or will it forever make a home in my heart?' I sigh, and I open the door to my room and take a look around. What was once colorful is now dull, black, and grey filling the room. Tears blur my vision and roll down my cheeks. My heart was aching as I looked at the bed that was once ours. 'Once ours'. I wipe the fresh tears away with my sleeve and head to the washroom. As I finish washing my face, I grab a towel and dab it onto my skin. I walk out and lay on my bed. I sigh in exhaustion as I feel my body sink into the mattress. I turned to the side where he slept and grabbed the pillow. It smelled like him. My eyes begin to water again, and I wipe them away. Refusing to shed any more tears for him. It's his fault for cheating, not mine. I feel my eyes beginning to shut, and sleep consumes me.

Birds chirping, the gentle morning breeze hits my skin. I lay on my back and stretch my stiff body. I get up from the bed and into the washroom. It feels as if I was hit by a ton of bricks, so I turn on the shower in hopes that will help relax me. I hop in the hot shower and instantly feel my sore muscles relax.

Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

For you

'Cause you're losin' me

~*FLASHBACK*~

"Why?!" I yelled. "How can you be so selfish and throw everything away?!"

He stays silent while looking at the ground.

"SAY SOMETHING BECAUSE YOU'RE LOSING ME!"

He snaps his gaze to me and starts sobbing.

"It was a stupid mistake. It didn't mean anything," Jungkook said. "I-I....I didn't...I was just...so lonely. Being away from you for months. Not being able to physically be with you. Took a toll on me, I went out with the boys and got drunk. I bumped into her, and it just happened. Baby, I'm sorry. Please, I can't lose you."

"Don't call me baby. You have no fucking right to call me that right now."

"Y/N, please, I'm so sorry. It will never happen again, just please give me one more chance."

"No"

"Baby, please"

I look at Jungkook. His eyes were red, and his hair that was once neat was now messy. My heart aches at the sight of him, his hand touches my face, his finger caressing my cheek, and I lean into his warm, soft touch. He wipes away my tears as I do the same for him. He grabs my hand and leaves kisses on my knuckles.

"O... Okay," I say. "Okay, Kook. I forgive you."

He smiles, and he gives me a kiss. We break apart, and he kisses my forehead. I sadly smiled as I wrapped my arms around his waist, and I held him as I felt my heart with a heavy feeling.

Every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?

"Kook," I say, trying to get his attention. "Jungkook!"

"Yeah?"

He looks at me with an annoyed expression on his face.

"You've been on your phone this whole morning. Can you please put down your phone? We haven't talked for weeks and I would like to have a conversation with my boyfriend."

"Fuck off, you can't tell me what to do. Plus, it's the boys discussing about the comeback."

"Koo-"

His phone dings, and he smiles at the screen. He rushes to get his jacket and shoes on. He grabs the keys from the bowl at the entrance.

"Don't wait up," he yells out. "I love you"

I get up and carry the dishes to the sink.

"Yeah, love you, too." I sadly say.

I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick

My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

"Today's our 5 year anniversary, baby," I smiled. "Since you're coming home early today, I'll make you your favorite dish."

"That sounds great," he says. He goes to the put his shoes and jacket on. "I'll be home soon"

"Okay, be careful. Please be home around the time you said you'll be here, Kook. Otherwise, you're sleeping on the couch tonight. No pillows, no blankets." He laughs and shakes his head.

"I'm serious, Kook," I said with a frown.

"Okay, okay, baby. Well, gotta go meet up with the boys. Bye, love you."

"Love you, too."

He closes the door, and I sigh.

"I guess..."

-

12:40am

Tears slowly make their way out and onto my cheeks. I wrap the food and put it in the fridge. I make my way upstairs and lock the bedroom door. I head to the walk-in closet and take off my bodycon red dress, and I put one of his shirts on that was lying on the floor from the night before. I sit on the chair where my desk is at. I wiped my makeup off, and I tied my hair up in a messy bun. I go to lay on the bed when I hear keys jiggling downstairs. I can hear Jungkook take off his shoes and jacket, and him walking up the stairs. The handle jiggles.

"Baby?"

I stay silent. He sighs, and I know he's running his hands through his hair.

"Baby, I'm sorry I got so caught up at work with the boys. Suga hyung made me do a verse over and over again until he was satisfied."

I wanted to yell, 'BULLSHIT, you were with her. I know you were', but I kept quiet and waited for him to leave.

"Open up, please."

Nothing. He sighed, and I heard his footsteps fading away.

And the air is thick with loss and indecision

I know my pain is such an imposition

Now, you're runnin' down the hallway

And you know what they all say

You don't know what you got until it's gone

The days go by, and I still carry this unwelcome feeling in my heart. But I'm hoping this feeling is wrong. Jungkook has been working every day and comes home late. I don't get to see him anymore because when morning comes, he's gone before I'm up, and he comes home when I'm asleep. The last time we got to spend time together was two weeks ago for 10 minutes, and it was spent arguing about him working late or staying out with the boys and coming home so late. I sigh and head to the kitchen, and pack up the cold food. I put it in the fridge, and I lay on the couch and turned on the television.

The sound of the door being closed woke me up. I rub the sleepiness away and sit up.

"Hi Kook," he froze but relaxed and took off his shoes.

"You didn't have to wait up"

"I know, but I wanted, too. We haven't seen each other in days"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, baby. I've just been busy at the studio."

"It's okay. Are you hungry? I can warm up the foo-"

"No, I'm fine. I ready ate, Jimin hyung ordered food, and I was hoping to just head to bed."

"Okay, that's fine. Let's get some rest."

Jungkook took off his pants and changed them into sweats. He took off his shirt and tossed it to me. I put his shirt on and took my pants off. We climbed into bed. My back faced him, and he wrapped his strong arms around me.

"Love you," Jungkook said. I kept quiet.

~*Jungkook's POV*~

As Y/N fell asleep, I watched her. I watched how her beautiful hair spread around the pillow, the way some of her hair fell onto her beautiful face. I pushed the strands away from her face, and she looked so peaceful sleeping. I knew once she didn't say I love you, too. I knew I had lost her right there and then. I have no one to blame but myself. With one last look at her beautiful face, I wrapped my arms around her and fell asleep.

~*End of Jungkook's POV*~

~*END OF FLASHBACK*~

How long could we be a sad song?

'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

Fighting in only your army

Frontlines, don't you ignore me

I'm the best thing at this party

And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her

And I'm fadin', thinkin'

My head was pounding from all the crying and due to the stuffiness of locking myself up in the house for months. I go to my closet and put on my black jeans, a white tee, and comb my hair in a messy bun. I head downstairs and put on my back docks. The afternoon breeze and warm sun caress my skin. I head to the park and sit down on the grass near a lake. I stay seated here for 30 mins wondering, 'Why did I ignore what I felt when I forgave Jungkook? Is it my fault that Jungkook decided to seek comfort in someone else? Am I really not a lovable person? Girl, it has been 8 months since you left him. Get over it already.'

I was snapped out of my thoughts when a dog ran up to me. The dog nudges my hand, and I giggle as I pet it.

"Hey bud, you lost?"

He whines, and I hear footsteps approach us. He wags his tail and I tense up when I hear the person speak.

"Bam, I told you not to run off like th-Y/N?"

I turn to face Jungkook and wave.

"Hi"

"It's been so long. You look great," he says with a smile.

"Thank you, you do as well," I respond. There's an awkward silence, and just as I was about to bid him a goodbye, he speaks.

"Y/N, can we talk somewhere private?"

"Uhhh...sure?"

"Mine or yours?"

"Mine's a 5 min walk from here. If you're okay with that?"

"That's great," he says. "Come on, Bam."

He grabs Bam's leash, and we make our way to my house. We arrive at the house, I open the door and let them in. Jungkook takes off his shoes and Bam's leash.

"Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, I'm fine," he said. "Thank you."

It was silent once again. I look down at my lap and play with my hands.

"Y/N," Jungkook begins. "I'm sorry for everything I put you through, I'm sorry for saying the reason I did what I did was because I was lonely, I'm sorry for ignoring you for days, maybe even weeks. I'm just sorry for everything. I hope you can forgive me."

"Jungkook, I don't know if I can forgive you, but one thing I do know is I'll never forget what you did. I felt so worthless. It made me feel like I didn't deserve anyone to love me. I kept blaming myself, kept thinking it was me who drove you to the edge. It was me that made you seek comfort in someone else. But after these months, I've come to realize that it's not me who's at fault it's you. You didn't appreciate anything that I've done for you. I gave you everything I had. I gave you all of me, and it still wasn't enough."

I looked up at Jungkook, and his eyes were red. His hands curled up into a fist and uncurled.

"You were enough, you still are-"

"Jungkook, please don't make his any harder." I sighed. "Please leave Jungkook"

"Do something, babe, say something" (say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losin' me)

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing (got nothing)

To believe

Unless you're choosin' me"

"Y/N, please, I'm sorry."

"No," I say. "I can forgive you, Jungkook, but like I've said before, I can't forget the damage you've done to me. That time we were together, I wanted you to choose me, to love me, but you chose her. Due to that, you lost me, Kook. No matter what you try to say or do, my heart will not start for you like it once did. So don't make me ask again, Kook."

He nodded and walked to he door Bam, following behind him. He tied he leash back on and sighed. He turned o face me one last time and sadly smiled at me.

"I'm really sorry, but I know you will not change your mind. But you were right about one thing. None of this was your fault. It was my doing and now I'm paying the price. I hope you have a great life, and I hope you find someone who will treat you right." He says. "Goodbye Y/N"

He exits the door, and I sit back down on he couch. My shoulders feeling lighter than before, and I head upstairs to my room. I change out of my clothes and put my pj's, and for the first time in months, I fall into a peaceful slumber.

You're losin' me

Stop (stop, stop), you're losin' me

Stop (stop, stop), you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

[countlessrealities]

For this meme!

🥰 - I’m following you because I love your writing and content and I just want to read your stuff

My personal favorite is catching up on the shenanigans, antics and various musing your silly (and dangerous) muses get up to tbh 👀✨ always a good time!

⌛️ -  You seem really busy

And there ain’t nothin wrong with that!!! I just don’t want to throw things at you when you already have a full plate of drafts and threads! I ain’t goin anywhere tho we stay vibing B)

➕ - Other reason(s) -sender specifies-

My brain has admittedly been dry on heavier plotting vs winging it via vibes/memes so apologies for the crickets on my end :0 (plus i keep meaning to write up that lil somethin goofy for A-991 and drop it in your inbox but i keep losing track of both time and reality 🫡)

Why aren't we interacting? || Always accepting !

The firs part of this ask is SO flattering and I suck at accepting compliments, so I honestly don't know what to say >.< "Thank you" seems a little reductive when such kind words come from someone who has built such compelling OCs!! I truly admire your creativity, so it means a lot to know that you enjoy my chaotic idiots in spite of everything >.<

That said, I appreciate you not wanting to overwhelm =.=" Tbh, it's kind of my fault, because I know that work doesn't leave me much energy and time to write, but somehow I keep seeking out more stuff...mostly to avoid working on the old one, but that just results in me owing even more things...To sum it up, I'm a clown digging their own grave >.>

Tho, please, when you find enough brain to decide what to send for AR & Ophelia, please do! I might take some time to answer it, but I'd love to see what you cooked up >:D (also yeah, my ask box will stay closed for a little while, but if you come up with something you wanna send before I re-open it, feel free to shove the prompt in my IMs or on Discord, I move IC asks on new posts anyway!)

In any case, I appreciate all of this and I appreciate you, and I'm SO looking forward for us to start interacting, also because the plots we're discussing frigging rock!! x33

[merrock]

I want to join so badly & ive sent in an app before but im so nervous im not going to fit in or im going to get overwhelmed. any advice?!

Hi there, anon!

Go on and give it a try, that's my biggest piece of advice. Joining a group is like anything else in life, you'll never really know if you like it until you give it a go, right? If you're worried about fitting in, don't be. I say this with complete honesty: we have all kinds of characters and all kinds of writers here. And those characters and writers are pretty awesome, I think!

There are older characters (40s and 50s!), younger characters (young 20s), characters in between (20s and 30s), all genders! Characters who are local to Merrock, ones who are brand new and have just arrived. Friendly sorts, stand offish sorts. Characters who are basically made of money, characters who struggle financially. Characters working their dream jobs, characters working just to make a paycheck. All types in Merrock.

And our writers vary, too! We allow all sorts of creativity and interactions here. Some writers prefer to stick with paragraph style interactions only, some like to do GIF chat/conversation threads, others like to do a combination, some people will do whatever you want to do. We have writers who can write long novella style interactions, and some prefer short, simple things that are only a couple of lines long! Some prefer to write in prose, others keep it simple and sweet. A little bit of everything!

I can understand feeling overwhelmed, especially when joining a new group. But I think we're pretty laidback. There are times when dash can be fast-moving, and times when it's a bit slower. But everyone is super friendly and accommodating! That kind of takes the edge off, you know? Makes it easier to fit in.

Some things that I think can help make it easier to fit into a group are picking up a wanted connection and just genuinely throwing yourself into it, feet first. Picking up a wanted connection not only gives you that connection, but can sometimes result in sub-connections, too! For example, say you pick up someone's sibling... you could then end up being friends with their friends. If you pick up someone's ex, you might end up making an enemy or two in terms of their family members or friends, too. You could also pick a job for your character where they would have a co-worker, or even end up picking up a housemate connection! But I think even without having a built-in connection, if you are willing to write with others, you'll be okay. Don't be afraid to go in plotless. Seriously. Some of my favorite connections were formed simply by having two characters interact with one another and letting them flesh things out on their own.

This is really, really long, so I apologize for that, but! I hope maybe it helped you out, and please know that you can always come off of anonymous and talk to me. I hope you'll come join us! xx

[askforfireman]

(???)/5 stars : would not recommend

re-vamped by Ree tagging: all (for funsies!)

NAME: Volke

BODY

height: 187cm (6/2ish)

strength ★★★★☆ ( 3 1/2 ; built solid so he's lucky ; boon for hefty contracts ; the Daein lifestyle of needing to be able to throw a solid punch)

dexterity ★★★★★ (he cannot be caught. ninja. only reason he's still kicking is by slipping the noose)

health ★★☆☆☆ (lackluster despite his demeanor - that Daein lifestyle of starving. did not help him grow with good health, but he manages)

energy ★★★☆☆ (health affects it, so weighed down by lackluster health ; training has significantly improved his energy levels ; busybody)

beauty ★★☆☆☆ (would consider himself average, but doesn't focus too much on cosmetics)

style ★★☆☆☆ (not a fashion guru. never claimed to be. won't be. practical over pompous.)

hygiene ★★☆☆☆ (is too used to going a hot minute without a nice cleanse so it's unfortunately habitual. is much better about it & trying to appear as professional as needed in his line of work)

SKILLS

perception ★★★★★ (he's nosy. he knows everything about you. works in intelligence - needs to be perceptive. literally puts his food on his plate)

communication ★☆☆☆☆ (awful. loner, not great with people. can communicate if need be but prefers to keep chit-chat short)

persuasion ★☆☆☆☆ (not-well liked or charismatic, so probably not the first person that will be listened to. also doesn't care too much about swaying someone. it's not his problem)

mediation ★☆☆☆☆ (might just sling two people who are quarreling into a wall and slink off. or might just slink off. never pays enough to get caught in the crossfire.)

literacy ★★☆☆☆ (Daein-lifestyle. he can read and write, but gets curt when people use fancy language because it's not his forte. below avg.)

creativity ★★★★☆ (Fireman for a reason - he puts out your problems. gotta be creative to get good reviews on yelp. questionable, but creative.)

cooking ★★☆☆☆ (can get by. only seasons with salt and pepper.)

tech savvy ★★★★☆ (nifty at figuring things out. typically catches on because he's observant)

combat ★★★★☆ (has to fight to land some jobs and keep going. has done it his entire life. it's like breathing.)

survival ★★★★★ (he's been doing it since day 1. grew up poor and lived everywhere. jack of all trades. the guy you want if the apocalypse comes)

stealth ★★★★★ (how else would he get his intel on people?)

street smarts ★★★★★ (grew up on the streets. knows every nook and cranny. knows where to go and where to avoid. knows who's hostile and who's not.)

seduction ☆☆☆☆☆ (not a charming bone in his body)

luck ★★★☆☆ (pretty average, but he doesn't believe too strongly in luck. humors the idea, but doesn't worship it)

handling animals ★☆☆☆☆ (no.)

pacifying children ☆☆☆☆☆ (I think we know how his and Veyle's thread is going)

MIND

intelligence ★★★★☆ (intelligent in the sense of adaptability is HIGH. has been adapting his entire life to this screwed up world. But book smart? no. can figure things out, but won't start posing complex questions. really just doesn't care.)

happiness ★☆☆☆☆ (he's indifferent. it's just life. ambles in limbo with his joy because it's a gray area that he just doesn't cater to. not depressed or anything close to it, but not very familiar with the feeling of complete happiness. strong gray area)

spirituality ★★☆☆☆ (doesn't really acknowledge the goddess but knows she's . . . real)

confidence ★★★☆☆ (avg ; self-esteem? all he feels is the weight of gold in his pocket, not the pressure/opinions of others)

humor ★★☆☆☆ (dry and deadpan like a desert. scoffs a lot - it's his laugh)

anxiety ★☆☆☆☆ (could not give any fewer fucks. might feel a tingle when he needs a job done quickly but probably won't)

patience ★★★★☆ (actually great! takes patience to have things go smoothly, and he'd rather succeed the first time on a job than have to do it again. +hard to get clients with impatience)

passion ☆☆☆☆☆ (is pretty much just existing. very monotonous life. not really passionate about anything. very tragic. )

nice         ★★☆☆☆     mean (doesn't come off as the nicest but doesn't intend to be mean)

brave       ★★★☆☆     cowardly (really doesn't care at this point?)

pacifist     ★★★☆☆     violent  (either or. not quick to temper)

thoughtful ★★★☆☆    impulsive (prefers to think things through)

agreeable ★★★☆☆     contrary (not here to start a fight but can finish one)

idealistic   ★☆☆☆☆     pragmatic (thinks idealists are blind dreamers)

frugal        ★★★★☆     big spender (grew up poor and will not blow his funds)

extrovert   ☆☆☆☆☆     introvert (not the crowd-sort. uh-uh. nope. leave him alone.)

collected   ★★☆☆☆     wild (more calm than anything. wild doesn't imply efficiency in the workforce)

ambitious / possessive / stubborn / jealous / decisive / perfectionist

SOCIAL

charisma ★☆☆☆☆ (he flusters when Ike thanks him. THANKS. bare minimum of social skills and he fucks it up)

empathy ★★☆☆☆ (understands that people might feel certain ways but doesn't connect with them. not his business unless he gets paid for it)

generosity ★★☆☆☆ (doesn't really work with a discount system. gets flustered attempting to be generous)

wealth ★★★★☆ (with the rates he charges? heh. the only issue is that . . . he's not a big spender. he's like a dragon hoarding gold.)

honest   ★★☆☆☆ deceptive (doesn't actively lie unless he needs to but that doesn't mean he gives complete truths either)

leader   ☆☆☆☆☆   follower (neither. just leave him alone. please. followed Ike to honor Greil. that was the one rule breaker)

polite     ★☆☆☆☆  rude (comes off as rude because he's awkward)

political ★☆☆☆☆  indifferent (largely indifferent until you start roping politics into scientific shenanigans like Izuka did)

BELIEFS

higher power ★★☆☆☆ (was with Ike's party when shenanigans went down, but isn't really spiritual)

fate/destiny ★★★☆☆ (not that poetic, but definitely feels like he's just existing so he could clock out one day and be alright calling it fate)

magic ★★☆☆☆ (he's seen it, yeah, but there isn't a magical bone in his body)

soulmates ★☆☆☆☆ (no. doesn't even think about feelings and you think he's gonna think about divine romancing? no.)

good and evil ★★☆☆☆ (literally exists in that gray area. believes more so in doing what needs to be done for you to survive.)

luck ★★☆☆☆ (likes the concept, but doesn't really think about it)

PRIORITIES

family ☆☆☆☆☆ (what family?)

friends ★☆☆☆☆ (they're clients. contracts. people that will pay him and then he'll move on.)

love ☆☆☆☆☆ (never really learned about it. never really had it. doesn't really acknowledge that it's a thing.)

home ☆☆☆☆☆ (home as in family? no. doesn't have that. doesn't know if he wants it, but certainly doesn't have it)

health ★★☆☆☆ (Daein-lifestyle. grew up lacking in it but worked himself out to a good constitution when he grew older. can start to slack on it if he's busy)

praise ☆☆☆☆☆ (please don't praise him. he's never been exposed to that sort of goodness, and it makes him awkward/uncomfortable)

justice ★★☆☆☆ (can differentiate great good from terrible evil, but it's largely gray to him. he gets paid either way)

truth ★☆☆☆☆ (he doesn't prioritize truth bc at the end of the day he can be honest or lie - whichever puts gold in his pocket)

power ★★★☆☆ (he doesn't think he needs many assets of power. considers himself content with what he has - it's gotten him this far. could always be improved, sure)

fame ★★★☆☆ (getting his name around gets business, but doesn't like an audience)

wealth ★★★★☆ (big priority because he grew up lacking it and longed for it so it's his way of satisfying everything that he's lacking but he simultaneously doesn't spend it because of that dread of being penniless again)

others' opinions ★★☆☆☆ (only cares because if word on the street of him is bad? no business. and that's not good.)

[kiss-my-freckle]

That Twitter thread also noted these red flags that people miss in Stelena:

When he ‘finds out’ Aria is his student (he knew all along), he doesn’t just say “we can’t do this.” Instead he constantly repeats that *he wants to* but can’t. This creates an us-against-them in Arias mind. Age isn’t the issue, it’s other people.

This is so Stefan in 1x9/1x10 after Elena found out about his vampirism.

She turns to Fitz to validate how ‘adult’ the burden has made her feel. Ezra acted like an adult romantic relationship to match her adult familial burdens.

Stefan lying about being a 17 year old growing up without parents and Elena being with him to relate to her burden and validate her feelings fits.

He points out what she says actively disrupts her from them chance of an appropriate relationship. His solution is to switch school districts rather than end the relationship. Noel tries to blackmail Ezra for a better grade after discovering the relationship. Ezra takes a moral stance against that but not statutory rape.

Aka after Elena questions Stefan his solution was to throw Damon in a cellar, not honesty or ending the relationship.

Ezra surrounded himself with people who shrug away and enable their relationship.

Lexi thought Stefan was strange for being with Katherine's doppleganger after seeing Elena but quickly got over it and encouraged him to sexualize her and romanticize their relationship.

The shaming was very clear: keep our secret or I will ice you out.

Stefan's threat in 1x6. Speaking of 1x6, I'm mad at how people bring up Damon restraining Elena in 2x10 to save her life as toxic but Stefan restraining Elena's arm as she's trying to run away from his house is never brought up. Right after he found out Katherine was one he wanted her to get away from him and he's seen in a more sympathetic light than Elena.

Stefan in 1x10 can be seen through Elena's parallel in 5x17.

I agree with everything you've posted. It's been a long time since I've watched PLL, so I don't remember all their ships. I just remember that Caleb and Hanna was my favorite ship and I never liked Ezra and Aria. Not many people have a problem with their power differential, but it's the reason Stefan's character deserves more hate than Elena's. Elena is deceived more than she deceives, and her lack of life/love experience makes her more understandable as compared to Stefan.

"But she's big on trust."

"The Elena I know would always want the real truth, good or bad."

She's a lot like Damon in the fact that she prefers honesty, so I'm not surprised that the Delena ship is built on it.

[c-is-for-circinate]

The story creates the story tells itself. That's it, that's what this is, it's the thing I always end up saying when Critical Role hits me right in the solar plexus, because stories are how we make sense of events after they've already happened. The story is not a thing in the moment it is created, it is a thing you can only know the shape of once it's over with, and then you look at it and you say, yes, of COURSE, it only ever could have been this from the first, couldn't it?

Seven miserable loners and outcasts and reckless illegitimate rebels meet in a tavern with no desire whatsoever for heroism. Their morals are quickfire and slapdash, casual and arbitrary, we'll help out these people, those people aren't our problem, we dislike those fucks over there. There is a war brewing and they want nothing to do with it. Fuck fame, fuck fortune, we'll keep to ourselves and play fast and loose with crime and take care of our own and maybe some lucky randoms we meet along the way. We'll fight and scrap and tussle amongst ourselves because none of us even entirely understand our own morals, let alone how to reconcile them with any of these other half-assed motherfuckers we apparently have to care about now.

They fuck up. One of their own dies.

They drown in rage and fury for just long enough, until they can stop gasping and growling for vengeance to take a breath. Then they run.

They run, because they do not care to stand and fight: not against evil or dragons or tyrant kings, not against their own grief. They flee the country. Nobody is chasing them, but they flee anyway, to avoid shackles, to avoid control, to avoid being set to anyone else's purpose, to avoid their own loss and their own sins. They run to the sea. (They find danger, and shackles, and control, and somebody else's purpose there again. The world is full of shackles and those who would wield them.)

They grieve. They avoid their grief. They sanctify their fallen comrade. They do not aim to be anything, this ragtag group of miserable loners and outcasts. The only thing they know themselves to be is each other's. They do not know themselves at all, but this grief, this loss--they know it, at least, know it together, an iron band binding them all heart to heart. It is the first truth they have to hold on to, the thing that lets them see each other as the only thing that matters, the only thing that's really real.

They face down a cult and win, because the other option is shackles or death. They face a demigod and flee, again, again, again. Always they flee.

They flee towards home and home is burned. They have seen loss and they have seen death and it finds them no matter how they run away, so maybe it's time to change direction. Maybe it's time to run towards. It's still running, still half-mindless directionality, it's still familiar. They are not heroes, they are not somebodies, they have never wanted to be somebody. This group has never wanted to be anybody, not as a group, not when they're whole. They're nobodies, trying to take care of themselves, take care of their own, to grow past their grief that they pretend they're gone from now, mostly, most days, when they can. (Pretend it's not the grief that made them each other's in the first place, like none of the fighting and scrapping and scrabbling along beside one another ever had in the first place.)

They bulldoze and trip and stumble and run towards instead of away, for once, just this once, the very first time they've run towards a thing since that last time, the only time, when they temporarily lost three of their own and then broke themselves trying to chase them (trying to chase vengeance). Towards is so much more dangerous than away. Run towards something hard enough, you might actually find it. You might have to become somebody when you get there, instead of just not-being somebody else.

They're somebody now. This rag-tag, broken, mismatched knot of nobodies, not even mercenaries because they're too skittish to even really look for paid work, they're somebodies now, or so Someone Important says. It fits like an ill-tailored coat that they've been forced into without ever making a choice. Without ever realizing, entirely, how much they never made a choice. The world said congrats, you're heroes now, and these killers and thieves went, well, fuck.

And then they tried to be heroes anyway. Not because it fit, not because they knew what to do, but because the mess of them, the seven of them, barely knew who they were to begin with. If the world was shouting HEROES! YOU'RE HEROES! BE HEROES! at them this very loudly--then don't they have to wear the coat that's being given to them? Don't they have to be, have to find some way to become, the heroes they've tripped and stumbled into appearing?

They don't know themselves. All they've done so far is run from themselves--from parents and children and their own crimes, from chains and challenges, limits and labels. They only barely know who they're not. They couldn't know who they are. How do they know they aren't heroes? The one thing they know, the only thing they have, the only thing they've ever run towards, is each other. The one thing they know for absolute sure and certain that defines and binds them is that steel band of grief, that first loss, the thing that broke and forged them to begin with.

So they look for answers in their grief, in what they've lost, because if it's the first true thing about them as a group, them as a whole, then it must be able to tell them who they have to be now. They sanctify their fallen, twist meaning and moral out of conversational confrontational casualness, make a mission statement out of leave every place better than you found it. They forget who he was, petty and venal and mortal and flawed. (They try to convince themselves that they don't have to be petty and venal and mortal and flawed.) They cling to what he meant.

And they fail. God, looking back on it all, with the shape of the story and the shape it's become, is it any wonder they failed? Petty and venal and moral and flawed, these rough-edged rabble-rousers, not even mercenaries because they don't even know how to take orders besides their own. Trying to be heroes. Trying to stop a war, because that's their job, right? It has to be. That's the shape of the coat they're trying to wear, that's the shape of leave every place better than you found it, that's the thing they crashed straight into while they were running, running, running the way they've always run, run, run. So they look for answers everywhere, because they have to have the answers to everything, and they scry and they spy and they play sides. They meet with queens. They turn to each other on the streets on the way out of the palace and ask in horror, "What did we just do?"

They run and they run and they trip and they fall and they unleash more evil than there was to start with. They lose one of their own, again. They sit in shattered shards, and what just happened? How could we have seen this coming? What did we just do?

They don't know themselves. They've been running from themselves, trying to run towards misty shapes they can't define in a too-big coat and too-small shoes, without any real practice in running towards to begin with. They don't know themselves, but they need to move forwards. They need to be whole again, the six, the seven (the eight, the nein). How can they do that if they don't know themselves?

And--finally, finally, they learn.

They learn. They throw a sword in a volcano and forge a sword anew. They rediscover their own mind, their own heart, covered in blood with each other's blood on their hands. They walk into their abusers' homes and then walk back out again alive and un-alone and unchained. They recover bodies. They recover families. They find themselves.

(And the selves they find are mortal and flawed, because they have always been mortal and flawed, because they are built to be mortal and flawed, because they are still the same misbegotten messes they have ever been. But they are stronger for having sought themselves out, for what they have found. They are the stronger for those threads of heroism they tried to, managed to keep.)

They stop a war, incidentally. In the end it's not even all that much due to them. They sit, nobodies on a ship in the middle of the ocean, and watch in silence. It chafes a little, not to be in the center of things, to be able to be the heroes it felt like the world told them they had to be. (It feels a little like relief.)

They find themselves. They find themselves, and they find another lost and broken man, miserable outcast loner, petty and venal and mortal and flawed. They only start to realize how they know themselves now when they see how much he doesn't.

(The peace treaty happens, happened, is/was/will be happening, because they tripped and trembled and tried their way into it, but in the end a thousand chess pieces moved to make it so, and it is signed on a boat where we do not even set foot. The culmination, the crowning glory, the true victory of that whole middle story, is a perfectly-dressed man in chains in the hold of a boat, admitting to his own sins. It is secret and it is individual, and it is the concrete proof above all proofs that our nobody unknowns are finally their own very-known selves. Because they were Essek, once--but know they know their own mirrors well enough to look at him and recognize that.)

They know so much, now, about who they are and who they are to become. They have looked at their pasts and, yes, flinched away, but they've seen, and they know, now, as much as they can handle. In the end, the one thing they don't know the true shape of, the one thing left to seek that must be sought, is of course (of course, of course) that very first thing they thought they knew to begin with. The one thing left to face is their grief. The one thing left to discover is what shaped it from the very start.

So they run, like they have always run. In amongst the snow it is the very distillation of running, towards and away, away and towards, chasing and fleeing and fleeing and chasing, are we in front or are they? It's every mistake they ever made all over again. It's every new lesson they've ever learned.

They don't ask any more, what's the right thing to do. They don't need to ask. They know, already, swift and sure and confident as they once stumbled and dodged. This is a thing that must be stopped. It is ours to stop it. Yes, it is a heavy, clumsy coat to wear, but it fits us out here in the snows where we're not trying to prove our heroism to anybody any more, for good or for evil. Yes, it weighs on our backs and tangles our legs, but it fits as well as any role we've ever tried to wear. It fits us more than it could ever fit anybody else. It's our role. It's our coat. It was forged of our choices, our pieces, our fights. It was forged of our grief.

Nobody else is here with us, to watch, to know. Just like when we were seven shiftless, aimless, worthless nobodies wandering through a circus tent on the way to nowhere (everywhere) else. There's us and the demon born from our grief, the demon who sprang up and died and is the only reason we any of us ever met. Just us, just the nine of us, three and three and three. The three who were dragged off in chains and gave us something to run towards, that very first time. The three who chased, and watched their companion fall, and faced their grief head on, and ran. And Lucien, and Caduceus, and Essek, beginning and middle and end: The man whose demise allowed us to come together, reborn from the loss that bound us. The man who found us and told us that grief is inevitable and passing, that we must continue with it, that we still had such a long way to go. The man who we found like a reflection in an aging mirror, reflecting our own progress back at us, showing us how far we've come and what we've learned how to be.

Of course it had to end this way. (There were so very many other ways it could have ended, once. Of course there were none at all.) Of course it would be nine and nine in the end. Of course it would be this final perfect marriage of heroism and anonymity, for this group that's finally figured out their selves, past and future and right-the-fuck-now, saviors and heroes and petty nobody fucks. Of course it would be this.

And of course, of course, of course it had to go like this. Of course, after everything, the first six of them would try to reverse that grief that forged and tied them. Of course they couldn't. Of course they couldn't, of course, of course--(and was it fate, that 1-in-20 chance, that 5% chance, that 1 on a die? was it fate like the dice are always fate in every game, rolling out poetry with every throw, because all the rolls that aren't quite poetic enough get forgotten?) Of course it was a 1, not some other number, not some sheepish failure of a 4. Of course the universe itself would speak to say no.

No, says the universe, that is not how this story goes--because the road is full of shattered shards, and our heroes only learned to be heroes by discovering how bloodily bad at it they were, by nearly causing the apocalypse before wrestling it back again. Of course the universe itself says that after all this time, after changing so far and discovering so much, this the inciting thing from the very beginning that bound this group in steel must not be changed. Of course, with all their pleas, the six people who knew him cannot bring him back.

Of course that's how the story would go. And of course there's Essek, the man who met this party so long after their throes of mourning that it had sunk into their bones and grown quiet before they ever knew him, who cannot accept this outcome. Of course it's Essek, who never met and has barely heard of this man, this grief--Essek who has not yet grown into the quiet acceptance of his own grief, who does not yet know his own mirror, who has only just barely begun to understand running to instead of from and still doesn't know the shape of what he might eventually choose to chase--who seethes in rage. Who cries about not fair.

Of course it's Caduceus who takes the inspiration of that anger, that grief, and changes it all. Of course it's Caduceus, who the group only even found out of their grief. (They tracked him down to beg to know if he could raise the dead in the first place. Do you remember? One, two, three, Caleb and Beau and Nott, finding him in his graveyard to beg him to help.) Of course it's Caduceus, created to serve and to heal and to make so, so very sure that everyone understood that death could be necessary and final. Of course it's Caduceus, who stood over Mollymauk's grave by the roadside and put a hand in the dirt and cast decompose, because what is dead should be allowed to stay that way until it grows into something else. Of course it is. Because Caduceus has learned his own shape by now, too--and it is still full of devotion, of dedication to the dead remaining dead, but it is steadfast and selfish sometimes too, forged in friendship, full enough of love to try, just this once.

Of course Caduceus gave the diamond but didn't try to perform the ritual, at first, at first. Of course he's spent so very long so very gently urging his friends to reconcile themselves to their loss, to letting their loved one sleep. Of course, in the end, in the very end, he weighed all his faith that once held so firm and final and without exceptions, with this grief before him, and found just this once, maybe, within it.

Of course when he tried, the man who lives to put things in the ground (to put Molly in the ground), even after the fates and the gods and the universe had spoken--when, just this once, against the will of the natural order and the universe and the power of destiny, he asked, just once, for the path of things to reverse--of course. Of course he was the voice that needed to speak for the story to listen.

Of course Molly would end the campaign. Of course this had to be the finale of it all. Of course this ritual--not this fight, not this mission, not even this apocalypse, but this ritual, this resurrection--must be the end of things. Of course it's the end of the story. You can't go any farther than this.

There can never be nine of us. It won't be ironic any more. But irony, after all, is just a way of running from sincerity, sometimes running away from sincerity so hard and fast you crash back into it from the other side. Like running from being a person, from being that person, from letting things matter, from mattering. Like running so far and fast from being found that eventually you have no choice but to find yourself. Irony's a shield against having to know the truth.

There's nine of them. It's not ironic. It's perfect, but it's not ironic. It's just the truth. They know who they are, now. Not who they were running away from being. Not who they tried to be for the sake of anyone else. Who they always are. Always were.

This story could have been a hundred thousand different things, when it started. Of course it was always fated to end with nine.

[komvrebi]

getou was the type of person who woke up early and got their day started. they were productive. and they believed you could start your day off right or start your day off wrong. and so they woke up, made breakfast, went for a run, did some workouts, showered, and then went to wake up satoru. satoru, on the other hand, must not have believed in any of that stuff, because he was always sleeping sound as a rock when suguru got to his room.

sometimes, admittedly, suguru was jealous of satoru. now, he never considered him his rival. he thought that was petty and immature. but they envied how easily everything came for him. suguru wasn't granted that kind of luxury. nothing came easy for him. everything he'd ever had in life, he'd had to work for. they weren't positive, because they'd never ask, but they were fairly certain satoru didn't have to work for anything. in fact, they bet he never even felt things like 'jealousy'. ( maybe suguru thought too highly of satoru, which was kind of funny, considering he also thought he was an absolute brat. ) he opened his door and stepped inside his room, collapsing onto satoru's bed next to him. "toru," he said, nudging him. "wake up." @dereliqui

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Ok so I had this thing bubbling in my head today. FIRST A DISCLAIMER: I 100% acknowledge that Taylor’s music is written from her perspective, from her gaze, about her own experiences and feelings. Just getting that out of the way.

But after thinking about the New Year’s Day/Peace medley from last night, it kind of hit me that there are several references in her discography to her making a commitment (to Joe), but there aren’t any of him reciprocating, or a mutual future being built.

(Again: I know that this is Taylor’s music, not Joe’s, so obviously she’s going to speak about her side of things.)

Even as early as reputation, we start getting references that this is the Big One for her, e.g. New Year’s Day’s “I want your midnights,” “you and me forevermore.” We continue to see more of these sprinkled throughout her subsequent discography, e.g. on Lover with Lover (“can we be this close forever and ever?” “I’ve loved you three summers now honey but I want them all,” the entire bridge being like wedding vows), Paper Rings (“I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings”), All of the Girls (“I want to teach you how forever feels”), folklore’s invisible string (“one single thread of gold tied me to you”) and peace (“give you my wild give you my child” along with, like, the entire rest of the song), evermore’s Cowboy Like Me (“that was before I locked it down,” “forever is the sweetest con,” “I’m never gonna love again”).

Midnights obviously has its share of references too, though interestingly maybe less overt than the other albums? Sweet Nothing implies a shared home she’s running home to, as does Hits Different (…). The Great War is probably the most obvious with, “I vowed I would always be yours ‘cause we survived the Great War.” There’s also “I wanna brainwash you into loving me forever,” in Paris and “I’m fastening myself to you with a stitch,” in Glitch.

The most obvious reference to her commitment that we hear is on You’re Losing Me, with “I wouldn’t marry me either” implying that it was something that was discussed and a point of contention given the way she spits it out in the bridge and there are also the references to their shared home (“remember looking at this room, we loved it cause of the light,” “every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes,” “do I throw out everything we built or keep it?” Etc.).

Yet throughout these songs, where she’s saying she wants to be with this person forever, she wants to show him how forever feels, she wants to marry him, etc., in retrospect they’re kind of one-sided. AGAIN I UNDERSTAND THAT THAT’S BECAUSE THESE ARE TAYLOR’S SONGS. But it’s interesting that when she does sprinkle in references to his side of things, they’re directed at her (e.g. “You said I had to trust more freely,” “You say ‘I don’t understand’ and I say ‘I know you don’t,’” “You say ‘what a mind’,” and so on). It’s like she captures his reaction to her actions, but not that he’s in this with her.

I repeat: I know that this is because this is Taylor’s music, not Joe’s, and she’s writing about her experience of these situations. But in retrospect, and with everything we’re finding out now, it’s just really interesting that the way she wrote about commitment/marriage/family in her music about this period in her life was about what she wanted, what she brought to the table, what she hoped for the future, etc. But she didn’t write about how her partner made her feel about those same commitments. She vowed to always be his, but we don’t know if he vowed to be hers after the war. She fastened herself to him, but did he rip the seam? She wanted to marry him with paper rings, but YLM indicates the feeling may not have been reciprocated after all at the end of the day. Etc. In her music at least, looking back it’s like there isn’t as much reassurance on the other person’s end that this is what they wanted after all, especially by Midnights.

I know this is a jumble of thoughts and by no means a literary analysis of her discography, but it’s just kind of hit me out of the blue today in ways that I think were completely unintentional, but with the imminent release of TTPD, the secret songs on tour and the general ~vibes~ of what we’re all picking up these days, I think we’re in for some more emotional damage by this next album.

[grim-faux]

Yeah. But not sure how accurate that is, since most the kids seem to be vibin with this world and all its hostilities. By the kids behavior, everything seems to be pretty normal . They might could’ve arrived at a younger point in their lives, and simply don’t remember where they came from - Six excluded.

Which explains why a lot of the kids adorn oversized or simplistic attire - especially that early concept of Mono in the art book. If the kids came to the LN world very young AND managed to survive long enough, their clothing would be outgrown or worn to tatters. We don’t see a lot of clothing stores catering to children. Still, they need something to wear, anything - Ghost, Nose Bleed Girl, and Mono are good examples of this. Ghost kid essentially wears a blanket, and I kind of headcannon this helps with them camouflaging in their environment... if the television doesn’t shut off.

Lollypop Kid still has whatever clothing he arrived with, and shoes to boot! If shoes in their size were available, I don’t imagine the kids would have really adopted to wearing them if they grew out of a pair, or if they ever started out with shoes from the get go. For one, the kids priority would be navigation and avoiding hazards. A side quest for shoes would be one distraction that could get them killed or worse. For many reasons, kids wearing shoes are a rarity, and it would depend ‘from where’ they came from initially.

In Pale City and the Wilderness, and elsewhere, we see dead kids. But in the hidden content of LN2 and the Wastes, with all these kids living around the apartment rooms, it’s theorized that there was meant to be more kids hunkering down. And there’s some debate on if the Devs wanted more interactions from these NPCs, in regards to getting Mono and Six through the areas they visited. We still don’t know the fruition of these plans, since the content is partially built and there might be placeholders in areas where the Devs meant to change up mechanics. That can throw interpretation off.

None of this really expands on where the kids come from. It might be the LN world is a reality parallel to our own, a backrooms where children exclusively stumble into. Or it could have something to do with the televisions and the Signal Tower, wherein the ambiguous eldritch monster inadvertently drags fodder into its warped, nightmare world.

One thing I like about the Flesh, is that it’s an ambiguous eldritch beast. It doesn’t have a consciousness that we really grasp from the game, and it never had a voice - much as with the theme of characters in the games. It comes across as a creature with no higher function other than survival and feeding, but it doesn’t have any sort of higher cognizant functions to achieve those needs - which is what makes it terrifying. I’ve described it as an sea anemone, feeding on lesser lifeforms - humans, animals, whatever wanders into its clutches. Everything it does is purely instinctual, and there’s no rationalizing with its since its nothing sentient, aside from being a big animal that has found its niche for survival by hypnotizing the masses with a soothing signal and luring them into its Maw ˡᵒˡ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᴵ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵃ ᶜˡᵉᵛᵉʳ ���ⁿᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᶜᵉ

Which makes the children involvement with this ‘world’ a tragedy. The Tower - if it drags fodder in from another world - it is not doing this as a deliberate effort to keep itself fed. It’s sort of like a jellyfish, threading its nettles through the waters and snagging whatever gets tangled in its tentacles. It’s rooted in its own world, swaying with the current of the signals, hauling in whatever it snares.

It’s capacity might even be able to sweep through other signals, and snare other victims across parallel existing realities.

[keysmashingfantasies]

i'm depressed and dying :) will you write me something sweet? you can choose who!! i just need something really comforting right now, thanks ily 💖

of course! i hope this cheers u up. and if you need to talk, i’m always here. love u bestie 💝💌💟💗💓 ps: i couldn’t decide so i did bucky, sam and loki, i hope it’s okay :D

BUCKY 

he doesn’t like to see you sad

you hide it from him at first. you don’t want to worry him, bucky has a lot on his plate already. and he’s doing so good on therapy too. you would feel so guilty to ruin it. so you keep it to yourself.

but bucky knows you like the palm of his hand. “sometimes i feel like i understand this pretty head of yours more than i understand my own, doll”, he would say sometimes

after some time of you not opening up he would lowkey think it’s because you came to your senses and decided to leave him but when he sees your teary eyes one night he quickly pushes these insecurities down. “come on, this is not about you. if she leaves then try to at least cheer her up before”

so one day you arrive to his apartment and is greeted by candles, a dinner table where usually there would be nothing but a chair and a tv. and bucky dressed sharply. instead of his usual clothes, he would be wearing a suit. you wondered if the girls from back in the day felt these butterflies on the regular seeing him like this. 

“hi, doll” “bucky, what’s this?” “well, i... please sit down”

you sit, and after a glass of wine and forced small talk, you began to talk. you were dying to know what this was all about and bucky wanted to use up every second he had left with you

“i know there’s something wrong”, he said. uh oh. busted. 

“bucky, i-” “and i’ve been crushed to see you like this but i understand, honestly”. your heart ached at just how sweet he is. 

“and this is by no means a way to try and change your mind. i just wanted to show you how much i love you one last time and-” “wait, WHAT? bucky, what are you talking about?”

“you’re leaving. because of me, that’s why you’re sad, right?” “of course not, bucky. you make me the happiest i’ve ever been. i didn’t want to stress you out- it’s just... i’m overwhelmed, that’s all. and... honestly, i’ve been bottling all up and just...”, you sighed heavily, hiding your face in your hands. 

he gently pried your hands off your eyes, and greeted you with a smile so bright you couldn’t help but give him a smile back. “doll, i love you so much. but you don’t have to make it easy on me, okay? i want to be here for you, so why don’t you vent with me while we eat and then i can make you forget about it by kissing every square inch of your skin?” “sounds perfect

SAM

you needed sam. you had THE worst day since ever and you needed sam so bad. 

you talked to him throughout the week while he was away, and it helped a bit. but it seemed like everything just built up inside of you and now you just wanted to curl into a ball and cry. and you wanted sam to hold you so bad. but he wouldn’t be back. not for another week.

you did everything you could to cheer yourself up. you wanted to feel fine and were tired of feeling miserable. “what would sam tell me to do?”, you thought to yourself. 

so you decided to take off your makeup. but before you reached for the wipes, first you brushed away your mascara stained tear tracks with your hands. gently, like he would. if you close your eyes, it’s like he was there. “shhh... i got you, baby girl... now give me a smile”, he would coo. but he wasn’t there. so you settled for wiping away your makeup and hopping to a hot shower. 

you then dug through his closet, searching for a shirt that smelled like him and instead of your sleeping short, you wore one of his briefs. you closed your eyes again. “what? at this rate i’ll have no more clothes left?”, he teased. he tried to sound angry but couldn’t help but smile seeing you wear his shirt. “but they’re so comfy. and they smell like you”, you said, going to hold him. “yeah, yeah, okay... how would you feel if you saw me wearing your clothes?”, he said, his hands going to tickle your sides. “i think you’ll look lovely”, you teased with a giggle that made his smile widen. “then imma start rocking those party dresses”, he said, making you throw back your head in laughter, giving him space to cover your neck in kisses. “now come, lil’ Sam, let’s order something”. you smiled at the memory and went to the phone.

“i’m gonna order enough for an army. i deserve it tonight”, you said as you waited for someone to pick up. after not long, you were reciting your and sam’s order by heart to the person on the other side of the line. 

“good to see you’re getting the party started for me”, a voice said as soon as you hung up the phone. you stopped for a moment, not sure if this was just another memory you were conjuring. no. no, it’s real. the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat, the sparkle in his eyes, the way you could feel his voice rumble in your chest, even from afar. 

“SAM!”, you yelled as you ran to hold him. “hi, baby”, he whispered, laying kisses on your hair. “i missed you so much, i needed you so much”, you said, holding him just a bit tighter, while some tears escaped your closed eyes. “yeah, baby. i know. i missed you too”, he said, lifting you off the ground; you promptly wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“i thought you were out on a mission”, you said, going to hold his face in your hands. “i had to take care of those guys extra quick. how am i a good hero if i don’t rescue my girl from a bad week?”, he said, making you smile. 

“i love you so much”, you said. “i love you too, baby. now let’s go, lil Sam. we don’t have much time before the food is here” “where are we going?” “bedroom. duh”, he said as he carried you. 

LOKI

“who did this to you?”, he would ask immediatly upon seeing you holding back tears. “no one, it’s... i...”, he rushed to your side, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “you’re in your head again, aren’t you, love?”, he whispered so gently one might think he was sharing a secret, his lips against your temple. you just nodded while he pulled you closer. 

“come, love”, he said, pulling you by the hand to your room. you wanted nothing more than him and the silk sheets, before the weight of reality came crashing down on you. you had obligations, deadlines... “loki, wait. i need to-” “you need to rest, my love”, he said, giving your lips a chaste kiss. “but i have so much to do”, you complaint sounded more like a whine, and loki gave a slight smile at the pout on your lips. “it’s all taken care of, my queen” “loki, you can’t keep using your powers so recklessly! only when necessary, remember?” “nothing is more necessary to me than to ease your mind, make you smile, bring you peace... now come”

he undressed you slowly, pulliing the elastic out of your hair and letting his hands massage your scalp and thread through your locks. you hummed, the tension on your shoulders easing immediatly. 

loki helped you to lay down, easing you gently to the silk sheets that he insisted on buying to your bed. then he undressed himself, eyes locked on yours. however, there was no lust. just adoration, love. his eyes sparkled for you, like you were his entire world. 

“i am baring myself for you. you are the only one from who i keep no secrets”, he said, while going to lay by your side, his hand carressing your face briefly before returning to your hair. “i am a god and you are nothing short of a goddess. i am but a servant kneeled at you altar, begging to be at your mercy, to serve you. will you lay with me for a moment, my love? rest you mind, let me adore you?”, he whispered against your lips

you spent the rest of the day and the night on the bed, whispering sweet love confessions, making love and sleeping next to your king.

[marxles]

[8:45pm]

You walked through the door that leads to the dorm your boyfriend is currently residing in. Shutting the door behind you silently, you slipped off you shoes and made your way to the kitchen, saying hello to the few members that were lounging about. You headed over here after receiving multiple text messages from different members claiming they were worried for your boyfriend. The boy’s schedule was overpacked, causing you to not see your boyfriend in person for a month. Your boyfriend, as hardworking as he is, tries his best to maintain contact with you through texting before going to bed and when waking up, as well as video chatting whenever possible even if only for a few minutes at a time. 

“He’s in his room, been in there all day.” Yuta said as he placed his dishes in the sink, nodding in the direction of the bedrooms. 

“What happened? Is he okay?” You asked worried.

“No idea. One minute he’s in the recording studio working on lyrics, the next he’s on the ground sobbing and yelling that he can’t breathe.” Taeil explains. 

“Wait, so he had a panic attack? Do you know why or what caused it?” You started to get more and more antsy, wanting to just run to your boyfriend and hold him. 

“I guess so, we had no idea what was happening. We took him to the emergency room and they gave him something to calm down and we headed back here.” The older hyung stated.

“Yeah, he really freaked us all out. The nurse said that he had been working himself too hard and apparently stressed himself out over stupid lyrics that all his emotions just built up and he exploded.” Yuta explained. 

You just nodded, taking in the information the older guys were throwing at you. 

“I’m gonna go and see him, I guess. Make sure he’s okay.” You whispered, waiting for the boys to nod before you made your way over to the bedrooms. 

You knocked quietly on your boyfriends door, waiting for a response. When you didn’t receive any, you knocked again. 

“Go away, hyung, I told you to leave me alone.” You heard your boyfriends raspy voice speak. 

You opened the door slightly, peeking your head inside the room and scanning his room before landing on your boyfriend, Mark, curled in a ball in the corner. You opened the door wider and stood in the doorway, your heart breaking as he looked up with tears running down his face. 

“Oh, hi baby, wh-what are you doing here?” Your boyfriend asks, getting up and wiping his tears away. He stands before you fidgeting with the end of his long shirt and shifting from one foot to the other. 

You stepped inside the room, closing and locking the door behind you in case one of his members or a manager tries to come in. Moving closer to Mark, you placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away the stray tears that were still falling. You looked him in the eyes, red and puffy before placing your other hand on his other cheek, now cradling his face as more tears were starting to fall. 

“Oh baby…” You started and then pulled him in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours, just allowing him let everything out and letting him pull you closer and closer until hi shoulders stopped shaking and you didn’t hear anymore sniffling. He pulled away and wiped his face of a few remaining tears before grabbing your hand and leading you to his bed. Laying down on his side, he pulled you down so you laid on your back while he placed his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist before letting out a deep sigh and closing his eyes. You threaded your fingers through his dark roots, trying to rid the hairspray that clumped his hair together. 

“Do you wanna talk about?” You suggested softly. Peering down to look at his expression. 

“Not really… I guess I just got a bit overwhelmed with everything our company is throwing at us.” He whispered and sighed again, moving his head so he can look up at you. 

“Really? Cause from what I heard, it seemed a lot more intense than just ‘a bit overwhelming.’” You responded. He didn’t say anything back and instead stared up at you as if admiring your face. They way he looked at you released butterflies in your stomach and your mind to completely lose track of all thought. You two had been dating for almost two years now and you still cannot get used to the sensations he sends through you, the way your body lights up as if on fire whenever he looks your way, how you get lightheaded whenever he kisses you as if it was the last thing he was ever going to do. Everything this boy does to you, you still cannot and probably will not get used too. 

“Babe..? Are you okay?” He chuckles a bit at your fazed expression and allows himself to roll off you to lay on his stomach, while you moved onto your side so you two were facing each other. 

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m good.. why?”

“Because I just asked you a question and you just stared at me for about a two minutes. Where’d you go?” You just smiled and leaned forward to connect your lips with his, a brief interaction that had left you breathless. You pulled away, leaving only centimeters between you two before staring into his eyes again. What’s that expression, the eyes are the windows into the soul, well, you wouldn’t mind looking into his soul all the time if what looked back at you in return was intense adoration and love. 

You pulled away completely and moved on top of Mark so you were straddling his back. You started to lightly press into his back, massaging him and then moving up to his shoulders, to try and release some tension he might have. You moved your hands back down to his waist before placing them under his shirt and pushing it up, placing kisses up his back. He let out a deep breath before speaking. 

“What are you doing?” You pressed a few more kisses up his spine, pressing your chest flush against his back. You lightly kissed the spot just under his ear before responding. 

“Just let me take care of you for once.” You whispered, kissing the shell of his ear once and then moving back up and getting off of him. 

“Roll over onto your back.” 

Mark moved his head up to look at you once before listening and flipping over onto his back, letting you get back to straddling him. You pushed his shirt up further exposing more of his gorgeous, toned body that you haven’t seen in person for so long. He got the hint and lifted his shoulders off the bed allowing you space to pull his shirt off entirely, leaving him in only his black sweatpants. You gazed down to admire your beautiful boyfriend and then leaned back down to continue attacking his neck. You placed another kiss under his ear and made your way down leaving red marks that were soon to be replaced with purple and blue hues. You reached his sweet spot, just right in the crevice of his collarbone and neck, paying extra attention to that one spot. Mark let out a few groans and breaths, letting his eyes flutter close as you continue your work. 

You continued to place kisses down Mark’s chest, leaving marks down to his stomach, listening to Mark’s breathing as it gets heavier and heavier. You sat back up to admire your craftsmanship, a proud smile gracing your features while you traced your fingers lightly down his body, reaching the hem of his sweatpants. You peered back up at him, looking at his face through your eyelashes, looking for some sort of approval before continuing your journey. Mark noticed your hesitation and opened his eyes, nodding slightly. That was all you needed before letting your hands trace over his growing bulge, his breath hitching at the contact. You smiled at him again and then moved your hands to the strings of the sweatpants, untying them and pulling them down slightly. You got off him so he could lift his hips and push down his pants past his ankles. You looked down at his boxers and and placed your hand on his crotch, pressing down earning a gasp from your boyfriend. You looked up at him before letting your hands wander to the top of his boxers, letting them pull down his boxers, his dick springing free. 

Mark hissed as the cold air hit his dick, but it was soon replaced with a moan as your hand wrapped around the tip, gathering the pre-cum that was leaking through. You rubbed the tip a bit before reaching down and wrapping your mouth around the tip while your hand moved down to the base of his cock. Your boyfriend let out a deep groan at the sensation of your mouth and so he reached his hand down to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail. You removed your hand from his dick and allowed Mark to push you down further until your nose was touching his skin, his dick reaching the back of your throat, making you gag a bit. To be honest, you couldn’t care less. You let him mishandle you, thinking that he needed the release of his tension, and so you let him. You let him deep throat you as tears started brimming your eyes, but you let him keep going. 

With your throat burning, tears now escaping, and scalp hurting, you placed your hands on his thighs to signal to him that you needed a breather and reluctantly, he let you go. You gasped for air as you came up. 

“Sorry.. Got a bit carried away..” He mumbled. You disregarded him and after collecting yourself, you leaned back down to take him in your mouth again. You bobbed you head up and down, reaching your hand up so you can grab his hand to lead back into your hair. He starts to card his fingers through your hair, letting out a few deep grunts and thrusting up into your mouth. 

“Shit, I’m.. God.. I’m close, baby.” You kept going, letting him thrust up into you a few more times before he let out a string of curses, releasing into your mouth. You let go of him, a bit of saliva connecting your lips with his dick, before sitting up completely and swallowing his load. Mark opened his eyes, looking a bit dazed before sitting up along with you and reaching his hand up to wipe the corners of your mouth. 

“Good girl. My good girl.” He stares at your mouth before leaning in and connecting your lips together. He kissed you with so much passion and lust, a feeling reaching down into your core. He pulled away slightly before whispering. 

“Your turn.” 

[anayaahwrites]

KOT ficlet #6 (Kudou Chika/Houzuki Satowa)

(Events based after the most recent update that had me screaming into oblivion.)

Needle in a thread

His first thought is, not them.

He recalls his horror when they took away the one person who had loved him, the one that lit fireworks in his darkness.

But before he had time to mourn, the torch had been passed—like some sort of metaphorical relay race—into fresh, affectionate, and welcoming hands. They cared, nurtured, and gave purpose to his existence.

The child hated by a parent, the child of calamity.

Of disaster.

And now that he’s built a home, a hideaway to rush back to whenever things seemed too rough, like hell he’d let the demons of his past have it their way.

He drops down carefully, one knee after another, placing folded hands in front of the head tucked in between his legs.

Because Chika is desperate and he has no pride to protect to begin with, so pleading before them to let him just live outweighed any sense of shame he’d feel.

But he’s naive to think Uzuki cares.

There was something bizzare about the boy since he’d met him, how he changed based on what the situation called for—like a snake shedding layers of its skin.

The light at the end of the tunnel vanishes, but Chika pushes on, pouring the deepest parts of his soul in front of the people that ruined him once before.

Because Chika refused to let his torch dim, the flame protected by so many, he couldn’t be any more grateful.

Uzuki snickers, instructing Abiko and taking a blow to the face.

“I’ll tell everyone you did this to me.” He smiles.

Chika’s light is bright.

But his darkness is all-consuming. It wraps him like a blanket of thorns, clawing to tear chunks of his soul away. In the end, who could he save?

Who could save him?

“I’m tired of all of this!”

He snaps his head, facing the voice, breathing life into his own.

Houzuki stands with her back to him, confronting the men with such ferocity, they stutter for a second.

“To hell with your ‘ruin his life’ nonsense,” she huffs, swinging her hair like a whip. “I’m taking him home!”

He had so many questions.

Houzuki grumbles under her breath all the way out, twisting and turning from one street to the other, tugging him behind her like a four-year-old.

Why was she here to begin with?

Usually, he’d shrug her away. He’d tease the ever loving crap out of her and watch Houzuki turn a brighter shade of crimson every time while subtly keeping his distance from the intense urge to hold her close.

But today, when he looks at her, Chika sees more than just Satowa.

He sees a woman with the will of a stallion, dulling her blade in front of no one, however intimidating they might be.

He sees the hand of a woman he could not help but admire.

Couldn’t help but love.

He stops walking, looking at the fingers wrapped delicately around his wrist as if Chika realised for the first time that he was holding the hand of the woman he fell in love with a long time ago.

“Are you tired?” comes her tender voice filled with concern, as she looks around, “Do you want to sit for a while?”

He looks into her worried eyes and quickly drops his gaze, to the hand she wouldn’t leave. On any normal day, by now Satowa would let go, a shade of bright pink spreading down her arm to her toes.

Today she holds his hand, firm and gentle, both at once, neither shaking nor blushing at the contact that was progressively setting his nerves on fire.

And admitting his feelings was easy. It was easy for him to look at every minute he’d spent with her—in sorrow, in joy—that Chika was irrevocably in love with her.

He’d give the Sun if she demanded it, the moon adorned as an elegant crescent ring around her finger. He’s so in love that he forgets his past, that he could endanger Houzuki and her entire family.

But it looms around him like a constant-present shadow. So he sharpens his facade to protect her.

“You shouldn’t follow me to places like this,” he swallows, maintaining his composure as best as he can. “It’s dangerous. Are you stupid? Don't pull a stunt like this again.”

He steals a glimpse at her, pushing strands of loose hair behind her ear with not an ounce of regret or fear of her actions.

“If anything, you’re the stupid one,” she replies, ebony eyes staring straight into his as he raises an eyebrow in question.

“For thinking you’d need to face this alone.”

He stills, feeling her thumb stroke his bruised knuckles, eyes steadily turning a shade lighter.

“I understand,” she says, “I understand you’ve been fighting your battles by yourself all these years. You feel responsible for everything—like you deserve divine punishment for sins you didn’t commit to begin with,”

“But for once, point the blame to those that deserve it.” her grip tightens. “Tell them to,” she sucks in a sharp breath.

“Eat shit for all I care.”

Her gaze softens as he peers into her eyes; for solace, for the comfort he’s never had. That he’s never asked for.

“You’re only human, Kudou, and humans make mistakes. We all do. Does that mean we need to be crucified for it?”

He shakes his head from one side to another in an unspoken response.

“The past won’t change, no matter how hard we try. But the future.....” she grimaces, “Our circumstances are different now. No one helped you then—no one stood for you,”

Satowa’s smile is melancholy, like rain and snow at once, as she cups his cheek with her free hand.

“But you have me now,” she whispers, lacing her fingers into the groove between his. He peers into those abysmal eyes and sees a promise.

“The only day I’ll let go of this hand will be the day I die.”

In a flash, Chika breaks.

He shatters like smashed glass, scattering across the ground in shards of built up agony. He feels the tears forming in his eyes as he looks into hers, chin wobbling uncontrollably. His heart squeezes in his chest as everything sinks in—Dad, Mom, Grandpa, everyone he’s loved and lost.

And she stays there throughout, rubbing warm circles into his much bigger palm, a distant sorrow in her eyes.

This woman, this beautiful, wonderful woman, had saved him on more occasions than he could count.

She was the white to his black, yin to his yang painting his life with every colour in the spectrum between them.

The Sun sets not far behind, fiery orange encircling her like a golden halo. And that’s all it takes—the gleaming sky behind her, the tears in her eyes, the ones in his.

He pulls her forward gently, letting Satowa fall against him as every type of warmth rushes through his veins.

She stills for a moment, leaning against him, not a hair on her head moving. Chika gives her time, space enough to let go if this isn’t what she wants. God knows he doesn’t want to force her.

When she leaves his hand, Chika thinks it’s all over. And that’s okay.

He’s okay with that.

Instead, Satowa throws her arms around his neck, face sinking into the groove of his chest, nuzzling the space where his heart beats erratically.

He takes a moment to register, but when realisation sets in, Chika pulls her tighter to himself, fingers working through the strands of her hair, chin resting comfortably above her head.

In those small arms, Chika feels the affection she holds radiating with every fibre of her being. She stands on her toes, reaching higher to lay her head on his shoulder. He draws her up by the waist, anchoring her safely to his chest.

“You’re not alone,” she whispers into his collarbone, the touch of her lips, a second of pure bliss for him. He shivers at the contact, holding his breath to stop his thoughts from escalating.

“You’re not alone,” Satowa repeats, chin resting against his chest as she stares into his eyes, lowering one hand to trace his jaw in short, quiet strokes.

“You have me forever.”

When Chika kisses Satowa, he feels everything all at once. The rustling of the leaves dull, his heartbeat overpowering every sound in existence.

When she kisses him back, realisation sinks in that this woman, this beautiful wonderful woman, would give him the world too.

Chika stands in the centre of their universe, two supernovae colliding against the speed of the world, her breath against his skin like warm sunlight streaming in through a window.

When Chika looks into her eyes, he sees himself in them, trapped in a circle of warm ebony. He watches her smile brighten when she raises herself just enough to wipe the tears he doesn’t remember crying.

Today, when he looks at Satowa, Chika sees salvation. He sees his world.

“Forever,” he sighs as they walk back side by side, fingers intertwined, like needle and thread. She gazes at him, instinctively moving closer.

For once, Chika would let himself be protected. Because Satowa was a force to reckon with. She’s fierce and brave and he’s safe in her arms.

Chika really smiles then, one so wide his eyes crinkle and vision narrows to the one person who matters more than any other.

The world has to allow him this one moment of greed.

“Forever isn’t long enough.”

Yay! I wanted to write something for so long! This idea came to me after randomly listening to "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift.

Thank you for reading, and being patient with me. I love y'all so much <<3

[komvrebi]

#komvrebi: longing to be near someone who is too far away. komvrebi is an independent blog for getou suguru from jujutsu kaisen. established on 6.25 and penned by summer. interest tracker. | pinterest.

mun and muse are 21+ and lgbtq. minors, racists, transphobes, homophobes, etc etc etc dni. click on #komvrebi above to find rules. this blog will contain tagged dark themes. art from Sally_Chang_ on twitter.