#the invisible string

[until-i-set-him-free]

and the ones where we just, barely, never meet

keane // 911 // hannibal // 911 // wiktionary // foreigner // 911 // ruu campbell // 911 // the amazing devil // bucktommy in a softer world // matt maeson // 911 // hannibal // 911

[myownprivateclusterfuck]

He's not necessarily on time, but he's right where he needs to be.

2x14 // 7x06

[kinard-evan]

😣😣

[jacki-daytona]

Fluffbruary 3rd: myth

Words: mine

Keep breathing and move slowly.

[apersononearth011]

when writing about joe in invisible string she says "one single thread of gold tied me to you" but gold isn't invisible, but friendship bracelet string is pretty damn close, eh travis?

[screamingintothevoid123456]

I sometimes feel like I’m floating between being realistic, being cynical and being a fool.

So there is this guy right? Known for a long time been crushing on him for like 5 years. Absolutely absurd I know. Told him in 2019 that I liked him, said he didn’t like me back. Whatever, disappointed, but fine. Life goes on. I felt like our story wasn’t over yet. (I liked him and was a hopeless romantic okay). We continue to still be friends. As most adult relationships do, we are adults btw despite the absolute teenage absurdity of the my feelings, we drifted apart. We talked on and off for like 2 years, but didn’t really have any significant contact. Then right before I left my home state to go to grad school out of state, he suddenly messaged me and asked me to get lunch. We went out to lunch and stayed in pretty regular contact until I moved. I would come back for school breaks and we would always meet up and get food and hang out. We were seeing each other every break for 2 years of my 3 of grad school. Thanksgiving, Winter, Spring, Summer. When I went to grad school I was determined that I was going to move to DC and work in the capital. Every time we had talked about what I wanted to do he would always makes comments and suggestions that I move back to my home state. Well my first year of grad school was a nightmare and I was homesick and missed my family. So summer of second year I did a lot of self-reflecting and decided I did want to go back to my home state despite its flaws. When I told him he did a fist pump and acted excited. We had this sort of weird mixed signals relationship. When I returned for summer after my second year of grad school, I texted him that I was back in home state and wanted to hang out. Usually he was quick to make plans with me as soon as I got home. He said we would plan something and then I didn’t head from him for 6 months.

This fall, in my last year of grad school, I was looking for full time employment for after graduation in home state. I applied to so many places as I was concerned that i wasn’t going to get a job. I ended up getting a response form a company, and it happened to be the company he works for. I ended up accepting an internship with the company with a potential to be hired on full time. I would be in the same office as him. I posted on LinkedIn about my new internship and he liked the post: the literal first interaction I’d had with him in months. Well it turned out that I got a better offer for internship and full time post grad and this lead to that and his company told me to go to the other company. When I arrived back from winter break, I had a package on my doorstep from his company as a welcome gift with some swag. A nice blanket and water bottle. After a lot of contemplation, at this point I assumed that he never wanted to talk to me again and wanted to end our friendship. I sent him a Snapchat of the blanket. He answered and we talked for like an hour about the whole situation. The I started sending him Snapchats that he opened but never responded to.

I was telling my friends about all of the drama and how I was acting like a crazed teenager, when one of my friends said, “invisible string theory” were two people separate and come together again over and over. Now my stupid brain is stuck on the idea that something mystical is pulling us together. That it is all going to work out and we are going to have this epic romance.

When in reality I feel like I’m delusional. I’ve had a crush on the same man for 5 years, a man who already told me he didn’t like me once. Why am I stuck here, why can’t I move on? Why am i so pathetic? I wish I could just face the reality of my situation.

[helpimsleepdeprived]

invisible string theory 2009-2024

[thequestionsofmychild]

Who do you love more me or my sister?

A normal childhood question I am sure most children ask, or at least think so I was prepared for this one. I’m still sure that my mam loves my brother more than the rest of us, she still talks about how good he was because he walked at 10 months old!!! But what followed this question I wasn’t quite prepared for. Just that day I had been reading tweets on X, the platform formally known as Twitter.…

[pineapplehazard]

And if I choose to believe Chris and Eddie arrived in LAX at the same time Buck was dropping Abby there?

[dostoslaysky]

has anyone mentioned the invisible string that brought them to the same bar at the same time yet?

[therewasholyground]

you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much

[archivegyu]

invisible string

part 2

There’s a golden softness to late afternoons in Seoul. The kind that melts into the floorboards and sneaks into the corners of rooms. In Seungcheol’s apartment, it spills in through the wide living room windows, lazily painting everything with that hazy warmth only spring can offer. It catches in the ridges of your coffee mug, glimmers against the silver edges of your ruler, and warms the back of your neck as you hunch over the center table.

The apartment is quiet, save for the low hum of your laptop fan and the occasional scribble of your stylus across the screen. Your project , fills the display in layers of blueprints and notes. Post-its clutter the table’s edge, reminders of measurements and deadlines, and in the middle of it all, there’s you; oversized hoodie, glasses slipping down your nose, hair pulled back in a lazy bun.

And next to you, lying belly-up with a kind of careless peace you envy, is Kkuma.

She lets out a little huff, tail twitching as if in a dream. You reach over to scratch behind her ear with your free hand, lips twitching into a tired smile.

This is what most of your evenings look like lately. Half-finished sketches, cold takeout, and a drowsy dog keeping you company while your best friend dances himself to the bone in some faraway practice room.

You hadn’t meant to stay here long. When Seungcheol first offered his spare room, you’d told yourself it was just for a few months — until your life calmed down, until rent became less of a monster, until breathing felt easier.

But the months stretched, and the apartment never stopped feeling safe. He never made you feel like a guest, either. It wasn’t his place. It became yours too. The kind of home that smells like coffee and fabric softener, where the walls are filled with memories neither of you ever had to say out loud.

The front door clicks open a little past eight.

You don’t look up. You don’t need to.

The soft shuffle of sneakers on tile. The familiar thud of a duffle bag hitting the entryway floor. Then the drag of tired footsteps across the wood, slow and heavy, like gravity itself decided to cling to him today.

“I’m home,” he calls, his voice quieter than usual. Rough around the edges.

Still, you smile without looking. “There’s kimchi fried rice on the stove.”

He pauses, then: “Did you cook or order again?”

“Define ‘cook.’”

He laughs under his breath. A real one. Not the polite, camera-ready kind.

You finally glance up and find him standing a few feet away, hoodie soaked through, bangs sticking to his forehead, sweat glistening at his collarbone. Exhaustion clings to him like second skin, but his eyes are gentle, warm when they land on you.

“You’re still working?” he asks, nodding toward the screen.

You shrug. “Final review is next week.”

“You said that last week.”

“I meant it then, too.”

He shakes his head, kneels to pet Kkuma. She perks up, tail wagging in sleepy little thumps against the floor.

“She’s spoiled now,” he mutters. “Doesn’t even greet me at the door anymore.”

You hum without thinking, eyes drifting back to your screen. “She likes people who feed her on time.”

He snorts. “I’m taking a shower. Don’t pass out on the floor again.”

You raise a hand in lazy salute, already tuning back into the chaos of your canvas.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You’re fast asleep by the time he finds you again.

Curled up on the center table, cheek pressed to your folded arms, a pencil still tucked between your fingers. Your laptop screen has dimmed to black, casting the room into a warm hush. Kkuma lies beside you, paw resting near your knee like she’s been guarding you all evening.

Seungcheol exhales quietly from where he stands in the hallway, towel slung around his shoulders. His hair is still damp, shirt clinging slightly to his skin from the shower. His body aches from practice, but his chest aches for something else entirely.

He steps forward, careful not to wake you. There’s something fragile about the scene; the way your face is turned toward the window, the way your brows are relaxed, mouth slightly parted, like the weight you always carry has finally slipped off for just a moment.

And God, you still wear that hoodie he gave you two winters ago— fraying at the sleeves, too big for your frame, swallowed by the fabric.

He kneels beside the table.

“You weren’t supposed to fall asleep like this,” he murmurs softly, reaching to brush a stray hair out of your face.

You don’t stir. You never do, not when you’re this tired. It’s something he’s learned from the years. How you give everything you have until your body stops you. How you always say you’re fine even when you aren’t. How you carry the weight of the world in silence.

He hesitates, then gently scoops you up in his arms. You sink into his chest instinctively, head resting against the hollow of his shoulder. You smell like shampoo and his vanilla lotion you pretend not to like.

Your fingers twitch once in your sleep, curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt.

And that’s what does it; that tiny movement, that subconscious reach for him. Like something inside you knows, even now, even half-asleep, that it’s him.

He carries you to your room, nudging the door open with his foot. Lays you down slowly, carefully, like you’re something precious. Something breakable. His fingers linger on your wrist for a second too long before he pulls the blanket over you.

Then, without thinking, he reaches up and grazes the back of his knuckle along your cheek.

“Night, pretty girl,” he whispers, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even your dreams deserve rest.”

He closes the door quietly behind him.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Back in the living room, Seungcheol sinks into the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. The quiet presses in; thick and full of everything he’s never said.

Kkuma climbs up beside him, paws light on the cushion. She flops down, tail flicking once, then still.

He chuckles softly, leaning back. “She’s gonna burn herself out before she even graduates.”

Kkuma yawns.

“She doesn’t take care of herself unless someone makes her. It’s annoying,” he says, his voice softer now, gentler. “But… I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the one who reminds her.”

Silence stretches between him and the dog.

“You know, I’ve been trying to ignore it. For years, maybe. Told myself it was just comfort, or familiarity. Like she’s just… always been here.”

He stares up at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded.

“But it’s not that. It’s never been that.”

His voice wavers just a little.

“I’m in love with her.”

There. He says it. Not to you. Not to anyone who can answer. Just to the only soul in the room who might understand.

Kkuma lifts her head slightly, ears twitching.

“I don’t even know when it started,” he continues, his eyes growing distant. “Maybe it was when she stood up to my bully. Maybe when she shared her candy and said I could have the red one.”

A soft laugh escapes him, short and breathless.

“Maybe I’ve always known.”

He reaches down and pets Kkuma’s head again, more to ground himself than anything.

“I don’t know what she’d say if I told her. I don’t know if she’d laugh, or freeze, or leave.” His voice turns quiet. “But I’d rather have her here, like this, than risk losing her at all.”

He looks toward your closed bedroom door.

“So maybe I’ll just wait a little longer.”

The city hums quietly outside the windows. And in this in-between, not quite night, not quite morning; he sits in the golden aftermath of everything unsaid, gently held by the thread that’s tied you to him all this time.

[mctwinkdom]

Oh this tweet just changed my life

[stillgotscars]

going from “chains around my demons” to “and hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons, even if i die screaming” is such a punch in the gut

[jakeperalta]

Timeless is literally the most Taylor Swift song ever written. Projecting a current romance onto old people and fictional stories? ✔️ Believing you're destined by fate to be together in every timeline? ✔️ Reference to forbidden love? ✔️ Emotional bridge that culminates in the story honing back in on the narrator? ✔️ Ending line that returns to the beginning? ✔️ Eyes meeting in a crowded room? ✔️ Love letters? Antique shop? Old photographs? Teenage love? Arranged marriage? ✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️

[apersononearth011]

my invisible string is looking very invisible rn ngl