#talk to you later. love you. bye.

[starryeyed-spacegirl]

As We Fall Chapter 37 "Talk to You Later! Love You! Bye!" is Posted!

Well, this chapter was supposed to span a whole lot longer length of time, but I don't always get to choose where we wander. I'm just the one writing it all down as we go!

The fic is called "As We Fall", and I never specified how far we were falling or for how long.

Therefore, I am vindicated.

That's all. Talk to you later! Love y'all! Byeeeeeee <3

#silco x reader #chapter 37 #as we fall #silco fanfic #talk to you later. love you. bye. #arcane fanfic #fanfiction #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane lol #silco arcane #silco and jinx #silco x you #ekko #jinx #fluff and angst #angst with a happy ending #coffee shop au #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 link #fanfic #ao3 stuff

[willowser]

i will say. i will talk and write about shy, no rizz katsuki until i am dead in the ground BUT. i do think once he gains a bit more confidence in himself as a partner—he really becomes the same gremlin little shit he is about everything else.

starts feeling like he's got this relationship on lock and that's when the ass smacking begins.

#i just like talking about pre/early relationship katsuki the BEST #it's the sweetest to write #BUT #katsuki that is happy and confident and thriving in his relationship is a MENACE #i still think he gets a bit shy about certain things but like #he warms up about them much quicker than he did in the early stages #i personally dont think he's much of a dirty talker BUT THAT'S JUST FOR ME THAT'S MY BIAS THAT'S MY THOUGHT #but i think it comes out a little bit later into the relationship heheheuwheuwheu #okay love you bye #✿ thoughts: bakugou

[soupfather]

I think he’d be really good at making snowmen

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #sundrop #fnaf sun #fnaf daycare attendant #I’ll expand on this later #a friend and I were talking about how they’d react to snow #I think it’s neat #okay i love you bye

[lynzishell]

As summer turned to Autumn and the days got colder and shorter, Phoenix and Dawn found themselves shifting focus to their careers. They both earned big promotions that led to higher stress and longer hours. With less time to see each other during the week, they made the most of what small pockets of time they could… like their 15 minutes over coffee in the mornings.

Phoenix, who has been working for the San Myshuno Human Rights Commission, is now heading the Department for Housing and Community Development. At first, he was excited and had big plans for the future of the city. Unfortunately, it seems the more power he is given to make a positive impact, the more he runs into roadblocks and red tape. The stress and frustration started taking a toll.

To cope with the stress, he began spending more time in Mt. Komorebi where he’d go snowboarding with his friends the way he used to before Kiyoshi ever presented the idea of climbing the mountain.

Nothing like the rush of flying down the slopes and landing massive jumps to get your mind off things, I suppose.

Meanwhile, Dawn has been working for the Dreamer Foundation as an Event Planner. She organizes many of their fundraising events, and they’ve been doing so well that she’s started putting together more prestigious events for their larger donors. This, of course, comes with its own kind of stress and frustration.

Rather than take off for the mountains though, she felt like she needed to make time to slow down and breathe. So, she started getting into wellness activities like yoga and meditation.

Oh! Also, Atlas and Asher started coming over every Sunday to join them for dinner...

...and to watch the latest season of Somnium.

All four of them are now fully invested in the series. (how could they not be with a genius creator like @rebouks)

Prev // Next

#autumn #figured this was a good opportunity to give y'all an update on their careers #i don't talk about them much but they're each in different branches of the politician career #the details aren't super relevant to the story so just giving you the 'need to know' stuff #tho Phoenix's career will be more relevant a bit later #👀 #ne way gotta love a somnium moment #do you know this scene? #do you know why phoenix is yelling at the tv? #also there are a few small details in those last two screenies that made me absolutely giddy #mostly because the parallels were unintentional lol #curious if anyone but me will notice #wow i don't think i've ever rambled so much in the tags #ok bye <3 #ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt3 #phoenix realta #dawn stephens #atlas stephens #asher goode #somnium by rebouks

[beeduoo]

originnssssss who remembers origins i Loved origins

Lowkey i ate with rhis actually no i didn't i ate wirh rhat ENDER EYE Why is it so rendered Hello

IGNORW RHEIR UGLY UGLY DESIGNS This was before they switched to their iconic Skins past e didn't know......

#loosely based off of this old thing it's under the Cut #origins smp #beeduo #beeduo fanart #idk what other tags to put i cant put C because this isn't C this is O..... but like do people even check those tags idk #actually no im scared i heard theres been like three failed origins revivals i dont want to interfere with their character ecosystem i was #only there for the first one😅 #i rewatched some origins streams a little while ago oh my god theyre SO FUNNY #DUDE DOES ANUONE REMMEBER THAT ONE STREAM I COUDLNT FIND RHIS ONE STREAM #IR EAS LIKE THE ONE WHERE TUBBO WAS SINGING SUGAR BY MAROON FIVE thats all i remmeber ANF ALSO RNE can i call you senpaaiiii bit thay shit h #ad me CRYING in 2021 Please i swear this happened imnot crazy but also they might have been separate streams actuallu i dont rememebr its #been wayyyyyyy too long #BUT IT HAPPENED I PROMISE Sorry i've been gone for a while ive been very busy lots of Things going on went to Six flags then jad a surprise #bday party then i had to buy shoes for prom then Go to prom and also i do figure skating and am out like every day idknt have Time im sorry☹ #had a crepe yesterday it was sooooo goood im like learning to drive too that shit is boring as hell my dad kept gettign 😑 bc i couldn't stop #yawning DRIVING IS SO BORING its not my fault😭😭😭😭 #ok what else ohhhh. y god i locked in SO HARD for this physics essay u guys dont even knowim getting ONE HUNDRED on that trust i just really #wanted to share ok i love you bge #WAIT ACTUALLT SORRU IM LIKE REMMEBERJNG THE ORIGINS STREAMS K WAYCHED #RANBOO WAS SO FUCKING FUNNT IN THOSE STREAMS TOO LIKE I REMEMBER NIKI WANTED TO SEE THEIR BASE and tubbo was like ooh maybe we can put like #water down here for you niki we need a water system and ranwas like Do we though?I WAD WAYCHING THAT .LIKE DAMMMNNNNNN OM LIKE GIGGLING WRIT #ING THIS RIGHT NOW I CAN HEARTHE CLIP HE DID NOTTT WANT HER IJNTHEIR BASE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 #I NEED TO FIDN THAT STREAM WHERE IRS LIKE TOMMY AND JACK A D FHEHRE LOKE TALKING ABOUT DUOS AND THEN JACK SAYS THE MOST OUT OF POCKET SHIT I #VE EVER HEARD LKKE I LITERALLU HAD TK PAUSE. H PHONE AND BURST OUR LAUHJIMG MY JAW WAS ON THE FLOORRRRR DO U GUYS R EME ER WTF IM TLAKING AB #OUT IDK HOW TO FIND THESE STREAMS Oh my god u really Had to be there early 2021 that was liye the funniest era of mt life i wlild be #Tearing up from lauhjimg every day I MISS WAYCHING STREAMS LIVE CHAT WAS SO FUNNY I wishe it was archivedI WISH MORE STREAMERS KEPT CHAT ON #SCREEN i defiently understand why most didn't like Wyd when chats annouing ad hell but also Me 3 years later is interested in what the pub #lic had to say.... ok Now bye

[gregoftom]

pretty sure i’ve seen romance movies with scenes like this

#tomgreg #where do i even start with t his horseshit okay here we fucking go. #so tom's first instinct is to go to greg when he's on shaky ground with shiv. the only way he feels safe is to have GREG with him. #who tf would want greg as an attack dog??!?!? lets be fucking real. when he says that i think he means just a dog. just someone loyal. #who loves him and won't dick him around. i think he's pretty tired of it by now. #he wants an alliance with like. ok in this show who would you pick to ally with. i love greg but he's abso useless in terms of skills that #would keep you safe. if anything TOM would keep HIM safe. in fact tom himself says who else has taken care of you. literally spells it out. #he even says greg is a joke; will fail; will fuck up; so what use does he have for tom other than companionship. other than love? #a dog might do tricks for you but your main reason for getting one is usually love. right? at least it should be. it would be in tom's case. #and don't even fucking get me STARTED on ''do you wanna come with me? ...sporus?" like girl. #you know what you told him about nero and sporus right. and now you're saying to him; yeah i was talking about you. #you and me. you're my favourite and i wasn't joking when i said i'd marry you. #the whole while tom is asking greg to be his attack dog his fuckin. eyes and expression we get it you're in love with him. like it's ridic. #and all this coming with phrasing it sounds like they're fucking ELOPING. I HATE IT!!!!!! SHUT UP! stop saying that fucking shit god. god #they are so annoying. anyway #the way tom's voice breaks as he says he has things to do [what things. will i find out later.] and the deal and!! #what am i gonna do with a soul anyways... i have you what do i need it for. and as that paragraph said somewhere. he castrates his soul. #then they giggle and are fucking annoying and greg'S HANDS LOOK LIK EHE'S ABOUT TO IDK. HUG TOM? AROUND THE MIDDLE MAYBE #or do something else. and then they just hug instead and i fucking. ugh. i've had enough tbh good fucking bye

[todayisafridaynight]

so magical that yakuza 1 and shadow the hedgehog came out the same year........ 2005 the best year for sega honestly.....

#snap chats #AND DAYS APART TOO IN JAPAN (rgg1 dec. 8 while shadow was dec. 15) #the gap is significantly wider for US releases but thats not important..... #japanese kids were winning on christmas i swear #'snap why are you bringing this up' isnt it obvious. i am playing shadow the hedgedhog #and i keep thinking about daigo playing shadow and then later down the line just talking to mine bout it cause he can be a lil sillay #i hope he had dreams where he and shadow got to be besties. and by Him And Shadow i mean he dreams himself as sonic #because obligatory Same VA Joke Is Obligatory IF WE CAN GET ONE (1) W FROM RCS VOICING DAIGO. LET IT BE THAT AT LEAST. #for me..... let it slide for me..... yes ik it was jason griffith voicing sonic (and shadow) back then but let it slide this once.. #i refuse to acknowledge modern shadow. unless it's from that one uhhh fuck what was the cartoon called #its on netflix Point Is the one time shadow was actually like his old self girl i sobbed. too bad sonic was a dipshit though #a soul for a soul ig.... i think its ok just this once.... #im getting so off topic but this is how i inflict my other interests upon you lot #i trap you into reading a post vaguely about rgg and then i make it about something else :) #look at my pfp you fool. i legally have to talk about shadow the hedgehog like once a month ok let me have this #while im here. like /i/ know this game is nine years long but sometimes i forget HOW long #326 endings and for what. because they love me thats why. #fym 'revenge at last' is only ending 11 that seems like the third route or so you'd take (only black doom missions) #ok ive talked long enough. anyway bye im gonna uhhhh god idk.... i keep getting distracted #i started watching kagerou while my sister was playing mysims the other day but i got too engrossed by her playing to continue #mysims was like. A White Whale of sorts in my house for a while since it was one of like five games my sis actually played #and it was her fave but one day 1.) we lost it 2.) our wii stopped working. since that day she's blamed me for losing it #WELL then i found it and i got the wii u working SO all that can stop now 👁️👁️ ok ive fr gone on too long #unfortunately i cant talk about EVERYTHING i want to lest i just turn this into a general games blog. but i wont i prommy #for now. bye fr i think my sis just got home actually LMAO

[mothram]

#diana's music diary #it's been happening unofficially for a little bit already here but #these diaries are probably going to slow down or stop for a little period #because I'm really not managing well and I am not in a good spot to talk publicly about myself the way I'd normally do so #if we're mutuals feel free to keep in touch but I'll be back with these at some point later... #bye bye love you

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Hhhh maintenance to do maintenance to do but like. I kinda hate that I now have to think about Staffbot Lore for my stuff. Like yeah it bugged me a bit I never gave them the ability to be sentient before when I did the wet floor bots but I just. Kinda don't like 'em ngl

Like yeah story wise? Them being able to strike and shit is WILD and it opens up so many possibilities in terms of what CAN be done... But also things that's are too humanoid or designed to be human looking but not just don't vibe with me. I just sorta don't like 'em. It's not uncanny valley or anything I just have a dislike for hugely humanoid designs like them. I just really like my animals man. Like a special interest kind of love for animals and anthropomorphic animals from cartoons and games and stuff that has lasted a lifetime kind of thing, the human-esque ones just can't compete :(

Yet I'm gonna have to think about it now hhhh it's cool in concept and it's been on the back of my mind that there's so many Horrors and fun stuff to be had with them. I'm just favouritist towards the animal guys with the attendant as an exception I guess cause I forgot about them when I started this whoops

Like??? They can be characters??? They can be sentient and aware??? They can have their own names but ONLY if they're freed from the network??? They have a hierarchy but at the same time they don't because they're all the same just with different jobs??? As though it's been forced on them but they know better??? They're not the smartest but their skillset is vast??? A lack of uniqueness on the scale of thousands and thousands???? Just like humanity if we lacked our creativity???? Can they be creative????? Would they struggle not to be exact??? If they're freed would they even know what to do with themselves as they've never once had a lack of commands to follow?????

Oh wait I've already don't this on a more specific scale with just One Guy this is literally what I was talking about last night but not specific to this fucking sad wet beast I dragged out of the Tubes god damn well at least I know I've already done most of the work I guess. I can use that guy as a base for what to do with the thousands... And the Minis as a guide for other stuff cause they're my guide for everything like this normally...

Hhhh maintenance to do okay bye

#pop rox talks #wanted a quick ramble cause I'm procrastinating myself into an early fucking grave #i will cry if i carry on not doing the thing #i can say who the guy is if so desired i just like to keep things vague until i can do something with it unless prompted #maybe i can draw a bunch tomorrow i dunno i wanna draw and do plex history #and it's maddening cause i know i only want to do this as avoidance to self care that makes me feel fantastic and better about everything #like come on brain if you wanna feel good about life you gotta maintain it god damn #anyway okay bye #going to the pantomime in a bit bye will likely come back like :D later cause i love the pantomime #i will SOB if my executive dysfunction stops me from going this is a fuckng threat #okay bye bye bye bye #turning my internet off okay bye

[satans-codpiece]

so here's the question, right? why the fuck would Reader break up with him? like he's perfect fdjshfs

and it specifically has to be some kind of reason that isn't "oh we have to break up bc im moving away" since Ramattra leaves Nepal anyway.

#fjdhksfs #i HAVE to just make it like. 'Reader thought maybe they wanted more' #or Reader wasn't sure if they really loved him #like Reader just wasn't 100% on their feelings and Ramattra is like. okay i cant stay here and NOT be with you so i HAVE to go do this thin #that ive been thinking about doing anyway bye #and then 2 days later Reader is like oh. i do love him. fuck. #kat talks

[lesbiankordian]

i just realized one year ago today i realized i was aromantic

#I had been thinking about it for over a year before that but it was the day when i came to terms with it #looking back it's so unbelievable for me how I didn't realize it sooner bc my worldview and feelings were so obviously aro #and i knew I had a different vision of romance and such things than most people but you know how it is #I remember the next day I was so happy. I kept talking abt aromanticism to my cishet friend during one lesson. but it was cool #the breakdowns over it came later. same w/ lesbianism tbh. the first week after I realize sth I feel soo good and then. reality. feelings😐 #but yeah hiiii i love being aromantic i love aromantic people #the story HOW I finally realized is so funny tho lol. jujutsu kaisen also played a role in it #okie rant over. #aromantic #aro #i used to be like 'idk if it's aromanticism emotional constipation or problems with social norms tho... maybe I'm not aromantic?' #but now I'm like #WHY NOT ALL??? #ok bye #i was supposed to write a cv 🧍

[willowser]

satoru avoids you.

it's easy to tell with him, when most mornings have you wrapped sweetly up in the expanse of his warmth; face tucked into your neck, a hand half up your shirt, lanky leg tangled between yours. but the bed is empty, and you let the silence live, for now. sometimes he needs it.

faintly, you can hear him tinkering in the kitchen, though satoru hardly does anything quietly. how gently he's setting his utensils and plate in the sink is with purpose, like he's trying to keep you asleep for just a moment longer. it's unusual, is all: him not wanting for your attention every chance he can get it.

you stretch out into the space his long limbs are no longer hoarding, sighing a little breathlessly, as if you need to be quiet, too—and when you run a hand across your sleepy face, something scratches you. something sitting on your finger that most certainly was not there the night before.

it's rather simple, in the best way; almost inconspicuous, if it weren't adorned on your hand, right in front of your face. you don't doubt it still cost him an arm and a leg, but—there are no frills, no in-character, extravagant designs, no fluff.

there is only a single band and a small diamond, one that is almost a gentle blue in the light of the morning.

you're sitting there, staring at it blankly when satoru finally returns, though he still doesn't look at you.

"well, well, well," the grin in his voice is obvious, and you feel a distant relief that his tone is teasing, that his spirits are up. and then you feel a belated annoyance that he's daring to say anything about you being in bed. "look who's finally up."

it's still a bit early, you want to remind him, but he's already at his closet with an urgency in his step, picking out a set of clothes that give the impression he's not going to be crawling back into bed with you.

he continues, like he knows what you're thinking. "the one time itadori is early..." and he trails off with a shake of his head, running a hand through his hair as if he doesn't know to wear the same thing he does every time he trains with the students.

and you see it there on him, too.

almost blending in with his hair, a little, white silicone band that's hugging the base of his long finger, almost like the two of you have already up and done the ceremony and said your vows and til' death do you part, amen.

you finally say something when he tugs his shirt over his head in a hurry.

"do you really think this is a good idea?"

the dust has settled, but he is still gojo satoru.

it's taken a long time just for you to get here with him, enjoying a lazy morning in his home, seeing his hair still sleep-mussed, granted the quiet, intimate view of him pulling on his pants. he kept you an arm's length away for almost too long, for a numerous amount of reasons he's never listed for you, and you've never held it against him because you know why he worries. why he has to.

your question is genuine, though he is anything but.

he turns to look at you, all smiles. "have a little faith in me, peach, i practically taught him everything he knows! i can handle the kid."

you pull your knees up to your chest to hug, frowning. "i'm being serious."

satoru's expression softens, but only just. he flaps a hand at you as if to wave off your worry, before turning back around to pluck his shirt out. "have i ever been wrong about anything?"

you watch the marble of his back as he pushes his hair out of his face, blindfold at the ready, before slipping out of bed. he's still bare, and you press your cheek into his spine, wrapping your arms around his little waist. the affection makes him tense; you half-expected him to shut you out.

"satoru," you murmur into his skin, and when you peek around his shoulder to meet his reflection in the mirror, all you're allowed is dark fabric.

—but then he tugs one side up and levels you with his bright stare. "i do," he says, and the irony of his words has you flushing a bit. "i do think it's a good idea."

you can feel his heartbeat through his back, heavy and human, and you wait until his stomach flexes with all his nerves before biting him on the back of the arm. he lets you.

"okay," you press a smile into him, warm, until it spreads to his own face. "i do, too."

#i don't wanna talk about it #alfndjakaa no but. i kind of like the idea that there's never anything official #for the legality of it all #bc it makes things too complicated especially with his clan #you both just start wearing rings and you dont take his last name but everyone in your inner circle calls you his wife #and him your husband #🥺🥺🥺 #maybe you have a small ceremony months later bc satoru loves parties aifbeiajdbaka #i hate myself for this bye #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: gojo

[koro-is-caffeinated]

Nightwatch- Chapter 1 “A Stranger”

“Good morning, dear.” The clockmaker awakens with a yawn, having already overslept. Another foggy morning settles thick beyond rocky shore, stirring as if foam from the frothy waves. His wife rubs her eyes, looking enchanted through the morning grogginess. Her coils of black fall just short of her shoulders, loose and frayed. The clockmaker can’t help smiling at the sight of her. “Morning, Rick.” She leans in for a kiss. “Oh,” He reels back, gingerly pushing back her shoulders. “Dear, I have morning breath.” “I don’t care, now get over here.” She yanks his collar, their lips connecting. When they are apart, she pulls a perplexing face, black eyes studying with scrutiny. “Little scruffy, there.” Rick’s full beard and mustache of orange and white completely conceal his mouth, like ginger vines obscuring a cave opening. He smiles sheepishly, teeth barely visible. “Well, it’s either prickles or scruff, dear.” “I’ll settle for scruff.” She snides, and the sun peeks through the clouds for only a moment, casting rainbows of light over her incandescent eyes. She’s the town beauty, her skin gleams in the sun, reflecting gold off her brown skin. Her eyes are wide and doe, always a coy glimmer visible if you look close enough. She’s got pink rollers scattered in her curls, turning rusty in the light like a black cat. Her sleepy smile carves dimples into her soft cheeks and her eyes into wrinkled crescents. It’s mornings like this that Rick knows he’s a lucky man. Before she can lean in to steal another good-morning kiss, a discordant chime rattles through the air. “Rick, can’t you just throw that one out already?” She scoffs, a dramatic eye roll accentuating her annoyance. “Alright.” Rick pinches his nose bridge, easing out of the creaky bed onto even creakier, cold floorboards. “If I don’t sell it, it’s out.” His words fall heavy off of his tongue. It brings him melancholy to see it go. That clock has been a staple of the shop for who knows how long. Its obnoxious tone can be heard over each and every tick. It’s both a blessing and a curse, such a beautiful thing beyond repair. It was a timeless find, and yet, it just can’t be sold. Hell, the damn thing runs backwards. The somber is thick in his eyes, and thick in the sky with morning drizzle that drips down the windowsill. He slams the window shut, drawing the curtains to release shadows that cut through the drafty walls of the shop like steely, black knives. He turns, immediately averting his bashful pink face from the sight of his wife changing clothes. He scurries off to the bathroom, his wife chuckling in the backdrop of ticking clocks. He’s seen her exposed a million times, she has to admit with a shake of the head how cute his flustered nature can be. Sluggishly mixing his shaving foam by the sink, Rick’s feet hit familiar creaks in the floor. His wife calls from the loft, gracefully perched with her arms crossed over the railing. “Rick, you’re opening late. There’s a man waiting by the door.” Her voice induces a rush of rose to Rick’s face, though this time, with embarrassment. He huffs, abashed. “Let them wait. I haven’t even had coffee yet.” He takes his sweet time, half with spite, half with care not to nick his cheek with the razor. A kempt beard at last, he slinks away from the loft into the sleepy shop below, lamps lit with a hiss of gas and warmth under his shoes. The shut of the back door, his wife heading into the dark morning, marks the beginning of another restless day with no sleep until sundown for the busy woman. Rick heaves a weary sigh. He’ll pamper her tonight, she deserves it. Rick flips the ‘Open’ sign, shuffling back behind the counter, a soul softly stirring awake in the loft above. Within seconds, a jingle of rusty bells announces the arrival of a customer, door slamming behind them with a rush of wind. “Repair or purchase?” Rick asks, polishing the glass face of an ornate pocket watch with his vest. “Mr. Sjoberg.” The stranger calls, muffled by a large scarf over their mouth. Rick finally takes notice, peering over his glasses at the customer. Who he sees is an odd sight, their skin is ghostly pale, the haze of tobacco in their ruby red eyes and batting white lashes. Their short hair is straight like a flow of frothy water, sticking up with curled bangs in the shape of a rabbit’s ears. They approach the counter lightly on their toes, shivering, their lightweight black garb barely concealing their snowy skin from the cold. Somebody new? Around here? Has hell frozen over? “Is the Missus home?” They mumble, barely audible. “Adeline… Isn’t here. You’ve just missed her, I���m afraid.” There’s a twinge of suspicion in his voice, the squeaking of cloth against a watchface filling the awkward, uncomfortable air. “Ah. Pity.” The stranger sniffles, a red button nose peeking over their scarf. “I’m here for a purchase.” Their scarlet eyes scan the wall-to-wall selection, pausing over cobwebs. “Oh, good. Anything in particular you’re looking for?” Rick clasps his hands together, a polite, catty smile on his face. The stranger is briefly distracted by his appearance. He works precariously, attaching chains to watches and tuning them carefully. The stranger, at first, had thought he was wearing gloves. But no, he had wooden arms and legs, with black glossy joints and delicate, steady digits. His hair is a peachy color, shocked with white, fluffy and unkempt like his freshly tidied beard of salt-and-pepper. He has curious eyes of teal and gold that glare over black spectacles at all they see. He’s got the body of a father, and they mean that nicely, with a gray sweater-vest and black tie,pinstripe slacks hiked up by an old-looking leather belt. His sleeves are rolled up, the fuzz on his freckled neck standing on edge. The stranger didn’t mean to stare. “Um?” “Sorry. Yeah, just… What’s the cheapest thing you’ve got?” At once, Rick takes to his feet, kicking up the smell of mildew in the carpet. While he rummages to find a stepstool, footsteps creep down the steps, only to stumble clumsily and nearly miss the last step. The person in question, now of solid footing, is a familiar face to the stranger. “Sinclair.” Rick doesn’t look up from his busy hands. Sinclair snaps his eyes open, timid. He’s Rick’s adoptive son, a scrawny, chicken-legged boy in his late teenage years, a shaggy middle-part of greasy lavender hair and faded roots framing skin that never sees the sun, large square glasses, and sad gray eyes that always seem to droop to the floor. He twiddles his thumbs, in a pigeon-toed stance. There’s eyeliner smeared down his cheeks, another heartbreak staining his neck and white shirt with mascara. “Yeah?” “Can you move these boxes for me before you head out?” “Ugh. Yeah, I guess.” Sinclair trips over his own feet to haul a box of cogs, trailing gears behind him as he takes them out back. He jitters, recognizing the stranger and shutting the door quickly behind him. “I’ll bring you back a Macchiato. Love you. Bye.” He huffs. Typical teen. Eyerolls and all, dark circles to boot, jingling spurs on his heels clicking against the cobbles, heard through the door. He must be off to the bar, he used to sing on stage. Recently, he played a drab tune lacking melody that he called “Purgatorius”. He has lyrical talent, but he will never have the vocal prowess of his mother. Rick finally grabs a clock off the wall, looking at it with scorn in his eye as he turns it over in his hands. “Here.” He adjusts his glasses. “This blasted thing, I will sell to you for mere pennies. It was a passion project, but... It's beyond my help.” The stranger takes it in their grasp, thumbing over the old, battered wood. A one-eyed bird juts from a green trapdoor, chirping discordantly on a broken spring. The ticking seems wrong, somehow. They squint, realizing the truth. It runs backwards. What a delight! “It’s perfect.” The stranger rummages in their pocket, tossing crumpled bank notes on the counter, leaving without even a ‘Thank you’. The freezing wind swirls in the quiet of the shop behind them, leaving a perplexed clockmaker behind in their wake. The image of the boardwalk is a familiar one to the stranger, a memory of fog and clouds lying low to the shore. How frigid, the heart of Autumn. Seagulls keen, unseen through the swirling mist. Between foghorns and the gentle sprinkle of rain, a song stirs. A sad, yet optimistic song that swells in the chest and spills from the strings of a violin dances on the fog and breaks apart worries. There is something there, however, that feels slightly off. ‘Must be out of tune.’ The stranger thinks. The stranger struts down the boardwalk, cutting through the mist and rain, an unfamiliar black and white shape slithering between homes. As the song on the wind grows, an anxious patter worms into the stranger’s heartbeat, only accentuated by inhaled black smoke from the roaring chimneys atop every shack, bungalow, and storefront. Nearly there, a voice bleats from a corner. “You don’t seem too familiar, do I know you?” A jaded-looking old widower leans over the banister of his porch, dangling chains from his glasses blowing in the cold wind. He looks as if a Billy goat was a person, long hair in all shades of gray tied back from a hollow, wrinkled face and cloudy, kind eyes sitting above a crooked nose and goatee. His posture is hunched like a vulture, neck bent awkwardly forward with an Adam's apple like a rock and hands curled politely into his black patchwork shawl. Frail ribs stick out beneath billowing, loose fabric. “No, you don’t know me.” “Just passing through?” The widower blathers. He may not know them, but they know him. His name is Todd, his wife died 50 years ago just this week. “I’m here to stay for a short while.” “That so?” Todd begins, pausing to scan the stranger with disturbing clarity through smudged bifocals. “You look cold.” “I forgot my coat, that’s all.” The stranger replies with disinterest, hoping to move on. “Well, that’s no good. Care for something warm?” Todd breaks off a crust of rye bread, tossing it down to the stranger, who wolfs it down without another thought, finally taking the time to see the loom poised before Todd, tangled with mauve threads across splintered wood. “Oh, no, thank y-” The stranger is struck in the face with a massive white shawl that nearly blows away in the gust. They hold it, a silent nod of thanks hidden by their scarf. They pull the garment over their head, and fashion it in a way that’s slick and doesn’t hinder mobility, a master of working with even the most frilly of things. It’s adorned with red, bejeweled tassels that match their eyes. “Free of charge, min vän!” Todd chuckles, bony hands already at work with the loom, patterns of fields and trees unfurling into fabric before their eyes. With an affable smile, the stranger is waved away, whisked with the wind across damp, dark cobbles and under dripping awnings. They wouldn’t be seeing Todd for a while longer. Once again, the mesmerizing melody leads them around a corner to the chapel by the seaside. With the percussion of the sea striking the rocks, the violinist appears from the fog. The church pastor sits upon the concrete steps, shoes wet by rainwater. Their bow glides across the yellowed strings, head bobbing about gently to the rhythm like driftwood on the waves. Nothing can be seen of the loosely hung figure but a sprawled pose and thin, calm smile displaying a row of pearly teeth, just barely visible beneath the wide, flat black hat that conceals his face beneath its brim, shadows cast over his form. He’s a peculiar sight, but not to the stranger, who walks past without blinking into the warm glow of the bar next door. Blaring horns sever the music. A massive ship docks just outside, sailors smelling of salt and sweat flocking to the streets and into the bar as frolicking geese. Captain Blåhaj steps onto the deck, picking absentmindedly at the barnacles clinging desperately to the weathered red metal of the hull like Adams Rock to the star-spackled tide. His hair is short, spiky and blowing behind him. He tucks the front of his navy peacoat over his chest, the felted fabric straining over his arms. He’s not a sight for sore eyes, his scarred, tan face, tasteful scent of tobacco, and black eyes make even his own crew swoon. He tamps leaves into his pipe, rummaging for a match in his pockets. “Captain!” His right hand man comes galloping over. His name is Crockett, a poor and white-haired young man with shocking blue eyes and a scrappy figure that barely holds up the white cotton of his uniform. Blåhaj’s broad hand lands on Crockett’s narrow shoulder, sending a knot in his stomach. “Beautiful morning, huh, boy?” He gruffly smiles, a sharp smile carving his face, a true Renaissance statue. Crockett strikes a match and gingerly lights Blåhaj’s pipe, a small wisp of smoke rising with the Sun. The brief glow of flame makes him look painterly and sickeningly handsome. Crockett gulps. “So, uh,” He squawks “Our haul has the grocers impressed.” He twiddles his thumbs, gesturing back with his head to a net of mackerel dangling precariously down to the dock. Blåhaj smirks, a gold tooth flashing. “Good work, boy.” He puffs smoke, and Crockett can feel it on his face, suddenly feeling a little weak in the knees. Blåhaj’s stern, aged face has only become fine wine to the crew across the oceans, his strapping and broad-shouldered silhouette is simply mesomorphic and kind on the eyes. “How’s about a gin to wind down?” Another waft of sweet smoke that’s more intoxicating to Crockett than a drink will ever be. He can’t help but notice the slight tangle of Blåhaj’s fingers in his ponytail. “Ah, yeah, that’s a good idea…” The walking juxtapositions make their way to the boardwalk, a well-decorated sailor can catch anybody’s attention. The bar is alive already, even so early. The sun has only just come up, but the sailors and sleepless countrymen flooding the place means a busy morning. The stranger sits themself in a far corner by the bar, ordering a White Russian and kicking up their feet. Their mind wanders in the dark of the bar, to the clockmaker and his shop. The murder of chivalry may be in store. All those cobwebs, all those promising shadowy corners. What eight-legged friends could be found? All this time spent searching, all that trouble in the scrub, and it was in the very town where it had originated. Those webs are so perfect, they’re just right- they have to be. They can practically see the outlines of red on black abdomens crystal clear in their mind, the spindles of silk betwixt each other- the patterns match up just right. They have to return. Just not now, the Sun keeps ambition at bay for ghosts and strangers alike. Heaven in vocal form envelops the bar, every patron hushing to complete silence as the lights dim. The stage lights up, and out steps none other than Adel Sjoberg. She looks like an angel up there in her form-fit black dress, velvety and mimicking the shape of a mermaid’s tail, for she is truly a siren to every sailor in the crowd. Her voice is thick and sweet like honey, flowing and clinging to the dust in the air, an archon earworm. “It begins to tell, 'round midnight, midnight.” The stranger’s spine tingles, the crisp white hair on their arms standing supine at the twinge of her Veery clarion call. It’s throaty, and warms up the air, or is that just the breath of the masses being stolen? Whatever it may be, she’s captured the hearts of all. Her dress sparkles in the spotlight, her tight curls bounce, her eyelashes bat like butterflies. Lucky clockmaker. "I do pretty well, till after sundown, suppertime I'm feelin' sad; but it really gets bad, 'round midnight." With the men and women under her spell, a hum of whispers returns. Sailors joke. Old women gossip. Sinclair kisses a countryman right under his mother's nose, as if he doesn't have permanent, black tear stains down his neck. From beyond the neon glow of an Inn sign, an eccentric-looking drunkard stands atop a table, telling tales to his ashamed friends, all to the backdrop of Adel's enchanting chords. She opens her eyes just enough to grasp the microphone and give a sassy glare to a woman ogling her figure. The gazes of countless avert in tandem. Her simulacrum is anything but bland. The stranger remains in that bar, wasting away on coffee liquor into the hours of the evening, morning to sunset, the fog bleeding out into an amber glow upon the still waves beyond closed doors. Green, red, and blue lights flicker on to announce the Inn's vacancy. 'Don't wander' The sign warns in a neon flash beneath brighter eyes, an owl chewing on white, bloodied fur. The head of a mushroom bobs under a drip of oil and water from the awning, looking like a familiar hat. Waiving the anemoia off, the stranger basks under the yellow light around a billiards table, piercing the wooziness to sink the 8-ball into the pocket across from them. Sinclair hands over a sizeable chunk of money to Captain Blåhaj, losing the third bet of the night. The money is passed off to an old maid, summoning a forlorn sigh from Crockett that just screams shaken limerence. Realizing the time as the cuckoo clock jabs into their side with another chime, the stranger surrenders the cue stick to the wall and scurries out the door, leaving astounded bartenders wondering their name as they fill up yet another beer for the sadsacks. To the church they creep, wrapping the shawl tight over their arms, the evening chill giving way for the freezing night, the fog begotten as the Red Sea. The stained white brickwork looks black in the night, the shape of the steeple cutting out the Milky Way. An oddly cloudless night, perfect. From a nail on the door, a lantern glows and flickers. The stranger removes it, extinguishing the light and walking with dire purpose back to the clockmaker's shop. The occupant has long retired for the evening, not a single light inside but a dull candle. The stranger tries the door, to no avail, it's padlocked. No matter, the stranger has a bobby pin holding their sleeve garter in place. They jam the bronze pin inside, googling it around until a click brings a satisfied grin to the stranger's obscured face. Careful to take off the bells before entering, the stranger enters. With only the light of the candle to guide them, they creep behind shelves upon shelves, the ticking of countless clocks in the darkness is enough to drive any man mad. The floor creaks beneath them, each making them wince. There's not a sound from the loft. Upon the walls behind the counter, among mechanical mysteries and showy ornamented clocks is a sight much less Baroque. The web of the prodigious arachnid they've been searching for. Upon the stranger's shadow approaching, a cluster of spindly black legs retreat into a clockface. Promising. The stranger opens the empty, desolate shaft of the lantern, prodding at the clock with the pin until the spider within stirs, stumbling into the lantern, a nervous threat trailing behind. The stranger snaps the lantern shut and holds it to the light, appeased with their prize. Illuminated by candlelight, it comes into view, what gorgeous and rococo majesty! A black widow. A delicious thing to behold. With the widow obtained and the future in sight, it's shaping up for the stranger. No more brush and brambles, no more spider bites. A thump. Then another. Wooden feet scale the staircase. As if never there, the stranger sweeps away and out the open door with the wind, leaving not a trace. Rick stands in the shop, all life barren, the glimpse of a shadow disappearing between shelves into the night. Down the road and where the drunk men sing shanties, mass is coming to a close. Father Winecroft reaches for the heavens with veiny hands and the digits of a musician. They can taste Heaven in the air, feel Hell beneath their feet. Just like Adeline, Winecroft has them captivated by his hypnotic sermon. “It’s on the night that God had graced us, and we did not give Him enough. And so He took what He had been owed…” The stranger listens in, knees tucked high over the lantern. “He knocked thrice upon the door of Satan and drove him away.” The stranger knocks on the wall. A chorus of amazed gasps rises a chuckle from Winecroft’s chest. “Yes, my sheep. He is with us always…” The droning is all a blur, oil paint soundwaves. When all is quiet and they are certain that the mass has concluded, Winecroft descends into the cellar, where the stranger resides. “Ehud.” A striking white smile appears in the gloom. The stranger stands, their name clear. “Sir, I have good news.” “Well, tell me quickly, I haven’t got all night.” Winecroft positions himself like a gargoyle in front of Ehud, lighting a candle. His fluffy mane of auburn looks like fire in the warm lucency, tallow dripping over their fingers. His smile twitches, yet never ceases. He stands straight and tall, cossock concealing a dynamic and long body with feet positioned like that of a ballerina, stock-still and awaiting disclosure. “I bring you, firstly a clock fit for tonight.” Ehud presents the broken cuckoo clock. Winecroft leans forward, looking like a robot with an unwavering expression, the hand tucked behind their back inching forward to stroke the clock’s surface. Their fingertips graze it oddly, dust lifting from it. His smile gets a little wider, which shouldn’t be possible. They rise again, making a strange noise that can only be described as smug. “Perfect. Good work, friend.” They hiss, a small giggle of anticipation slipping between his flat teeth. “What else do you have for me?” The trepidation tickles his throat. Without a word, Ehud hands over the lantern. Winecroft sets down the candle, turning over the lantern in his hands against the light. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Their crooked hat reveals a wide, raving eye. The deceptively warm brown turns to amber in the flame, tracing the spider’s form and shaking violently. “What a specimen, oh, perfect- By God’s Gospel-” He sets down the lantern to lean with his elbows against the tablecloth. “The perfect spider. So gorgeous, and oh-so deadly, how lovely! The power this little treat holds is more than your little mind can imagine.” They wax poetic, a waver in their throat, sounding like the Prince of Horror. Black gloves removed, they unlatch the lantern, the grotesque spider crawling onto the back of his hand. He holds it gently, eye falling half-mast as it crawls from one palm to another, non compos mentis. “Macabre, isn’t she? I can’t resist, you’ve brought me such a trophy, Ehud. I commend you.” He cups the spider, prodding at it with one finger. It rears up, lashing out, fangs sinking into his palm. He winces, smile wavering for only an instant before it is once again plastered on his pale face that is painted with dancing shadows. The spider tries to scurry up his sleeve, only to be seized between two fingers by the leg, squirming. “Odger-” “Sir.” “Sir, that’s venomous.” “Ah, I know. Nothing I haven’t drank in communion already.” His eye nearly rolls back into his head with each throb of the bite, pain turning to pleasure. “It’s time.” He groans. Massaging the bite in an uncomfortably sensual manner, he tosses the black widow without another care into the lantern, striking a match, lighting it aflame. The hourglass on its back turns a boiling black as it jitters and curls up in the heat. Moths flock to the light to nibble on clothes and drop dead. The lantern is sealed, Winecroft leaps onto the table, dancer-like, daintily hanging the clock on the wall. Perfect timing, the clock strikes a false-midnight, the wooden bird singing its broken song. Ehud scrambles to join him on the table, adorned like an altar, bones clattering to the floor in a cloud of dirt. The writhing spider thuds against the glass, burning into nothing, a pitiful curl of black legs. A rattling- no, a chattering- is heard. The chattering of teeth. Winecroft stands close behind, too close, Ehud can feel his breath on the back of their neck. They turn to see, from beneath his hat’s brim, an odd expression with furrowed, sorrowful brows, a twitchy smile, and grinning eyes that glisten, devilish in the growing glow until they disappear into their mess of hair. From the ceiling, an ethereal gleam spills between floorboards like a waterfall of luminous dust, the Aurora Borealis encapsulated into a smoky stream that strikes the lantern. It sounds like rain on a tin roof that spirals into a crescendo of screaming. Agony. Pure agony, that’s the sound. The pain of awareness. A skull rises, then a rib, then a collarbone, a femur… Before their eyes, a skeleton is assembled. Winecroft jitters, hands sweaty and posture kingly. A ripple crawls down Ehud’s spine at the sight of the skeleton’s very own spine snapping into place. Fully arranged, it collapses in a pathetic, shaking heap on the ground. Winecroft leaps like a frog to its level, quickly covering the bones in a shaggy, torn cloak that was probably once purple, now covered in soot and dirt. They creep away, backwards as a mime and away from its view. Ehud’s heart nearly leaps out of their chest. Their scarf falls, failing to conceal grit teeth and a quivering white lip. Their painted nails scrape into the white lace tablecloth that’s slipping beneath their feet. The skeleton quakes, an arm snapping upwards and leveraging the skull. It looks around, narrowly missing the two shaking humans by mere inches of darkness. It kneels, catching its breath, despite a lack of lungs. Its hand rubs its skull, causing reason for pause. “Hnnggk?” It moans, staring down at its skeletal hands. “No… No, no, no, no no no-” A distorted, raspy tone rattles from the skeleton’s chattering teeth, sounding nothing like the Gary Cooper that is Winecroft. “I was supposed to die, just let me die.” It weeps without ever shedding a tear. Its breath smells of rot. It stumbles to its feet and wobbles like a newborn giraffe, slipping its old cloak over its bone shoulders, ribs clacking, hand already adorned with a dangling lantern. Its jaw painfully cracks, muttering to itself about death, decay, ascension, and all kinds of rambling of its pain. Just like that, through invocation of some God they’ll never know, The Nightman walks the streets again on shaky legs. Lantern light fading into the fog, all across town the sounds of shutters slamming shut can be heard like applause at what Ehud had done. Terrorized no more had they been, and now they’ll suffer for it. 50 years of peace is too long. Rick wakes again in the dead of night, not too far after his wife threw herself into bed beside him, hair tousled and wrinkled evening dress still on. Her makeup smears her pillow. The sounds of clicking heels and shaky feet on the boardwalk riles Rick to once again descend from the loft. At first seeing nothing, he blows out his candle to return to bed, briefly relishing the smell of sweet smoke. Then, from the inky black comparable to the deep sea, a single yellow light swims, an angler in the depths. An achy figure shuffling down and stopping just outside the shop, facing the sea, as still as a mannequin. Rick nervously opens the door. The figure doesn’t so much as flinch at the jangle of bells. “Uh, hello?” Rick coos, half inside with one foot out the door. The silhouette doesn’t move, cloak hood billowing in the slight breeze. “C-can I help you?” “Hungry.” “... Excuse me?” “I’m hungry.” The figure looks up, lantern raising to the firmament. A flash of razor-sharp teeth and a bone-white face slip through the hood, fangs clicking much like mandibles. “Do you need food?” Rick swallows hard. The silhouette doesn’t respond, looking like the Grim Reaper. A yellow, jaundiced eye blinks. “Are you… Are you from here?” “Used to be.” “Hmm?” “I’m supposed to be up there.” “...In the sky?” Rick scoffs, licking his dry lips. The silhouette points to the stars, rail-thin hand shakily settling on a bright, twinkling dot among many paint splattered suns. “I should be up there. I was happy. But… Somebody brought me back. I can’t be back. I just want to go back. I’m so hungry.” “Well, can I help? I don’t understand-” It turns its head. Half-masked by the shade of a hood, a funereal, gaunt shape with sunken sockets stares back, lantern clutched protectively to its chest. “Food.” After a mostly one-sided exchange, the Nightman stumbles off, snarling. Two strangers in one night? Impossible. It wobbles its way to the dock, disgusting eyes swaying back and forth with the waves, scanning from boat to boat until it comes upon a crate of ice and something that smells enticing. Gazing at it like a newfound love, it slinks off to have a new meal for the first time in so, so long. “Ehud, you’ve done it.” Winecroft appears, nearly from thin air behind them. He stands proudly with that signature smile and his hands folded neatly and cordially behind his back. “I guess I have.” “Isn’t it exciting? Oh, don’t you think he’s hungry? What a darling- it’s coming together just as I thought.” They gaze together onto the docks, where a cloaked figure stumbles in the moonlight, gruesome spider legs jutting from either side of its face as it latches onto a chunk of food and swallows it, greed in its growl. The way Winecroft jitters at the sight makes Ehud feeling gross. Just standing beside him feels enough to warrant a shower with how little he makes an effort to conceal the power-high that goes to the wrong head. “They’ll be wanting a body soon.” Ehud chokes, running a hand through knots in their white hair. Ehud gags, recalling the many times that Ol’ Odger called their hair spider silk. “Hmm, that’s right.” He flicks up the brim of his hat, drawling with a suck of the teeth. “Just pray to our Lord that it doesn’t take yours.” The sirocco nearly blows off his hat, and with an unwavering, coy grin that reeks of malice and unspeakables, Winecroft takes the warmth of the coming morning in his stride; a serpent among rats in the lighthouse’s shadow. Ehud is left to stand and stew in the doorway to the chapel, drenched in the chagrin of Winecroft’s euphoric violin and the ignominy of a new, deadly occupant.

@dreamcatcher-ranger @moth-yknowtheartist

#Nightwatch #writing #You know that something special I was talking abt? This is it #Not my best work #I haven't written anything in a hot minute except for essays so bear with me #SO MUCH TO TAKE IN SO MUCH UNEXPLAINED LORE #Yes yes it will come to you in due time but do tell me your thoughts for id love to hear them #Each character is inspired by an animal and there are many influences/inspirations to this #If you can guess any of the aforementioned inspirations do not hesitate to tell me and see if you're right #I'm trying something new and its hard #BUT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #I could ramble abt these characters and all the symbolism for so long omfggg #Some characters kinda just #Appear #But they are relavant later #*relevant #There's never any goddamn sense to where my stories start lmao #IN THIS HOUSE WE LOVE RICK AND HIS DOPE JAZZY WIFE #HNmnhgkkkknnmmkk I am going to go to bed now gfdfghjklkjhgfdsdfghjklkjhgfd bye y'all #Enjoy I guess #Also ps no Nightwatch and Thalasso are not connected they are not associated in any way except being by me #🦇🫀 #tw violence #Tw body horror #tw alcohol and drug use #cw minor romance #horror/mystery #tw religious imagery #tw catholicism #tw sadism

[possum-tooth]

i am. so tipsy

#idk if this will even post bc im in like thee worst area but. happy new queer :) <3 #ive had like 3 malibu pina colada premade drinks and theyre SO good omg #i shouldve gotten more but. bud light here i come later lol #anyway happy new year im so lucky and happy to know you all i love you so much #also wish sarah and i a happy 4 year anniversary <33333333 #ok bye love you see you next year<3 #talk tag

[places-people]

it is really hard sometimes dealing w how many people just. want talk to me about wanting to fuck my friends. Like cool. Cool cool cool. I get it. Yes they are very hot I know. Btw I had a crush on you for 2 months but this is also good

#Like I am aware I am not unattractive but I am also friends with people that decidedly make me look comparatively bad #which is NOT ON THEM god #I love them sm they’re my best friends and we talk daily this is not about them #this is just. idk a weird built up feeling over time ? #like. it is just. bad for your mental health probably to have this constant stream of people talking to you so they can hit on your friends #Like the number of times I have thought I have made a new friend or god forbid been flirted with only for it to segue into asking #about one of my other friends #it’s just. a lot #I literally brought a friend from out of town to a club once and people there who always ignore my existence #obvi got introductions #w/e i rolled that off bc I’m a good wingman I expect that #but later. dm’d me. on instagram. to invite *him* to a house party for them. I was not invited they just wanted me to pass it on lsnfhdgdgs #Anyway this is just coming up bc a guy I am now legit friends w but did have a crush on #made a joke about topping me #to which I made a joke back #knowing he was joking #and he hardcore backtracked #and reasserted that’s it’s not ‘bc I’m ugly’ / that we’re friends / HE WANTED TO SLEEP WITH MY FRIENDS MORE #anyway I’m ranting and I’m just. gonna go workout I guess lmao bye #Nate says stuff

[todayisafridaynight]

One of my fave jackets is this green jacket with a fur hood im wearin rn because 1.) its green 2.) my dad gave it to me 3.) it reminds me of saejima. Who also reminds me of my dad

#snap chats #p sure i talked bout this jacket before but idc read my diary #sorry that every other middle aged man i see i say reminds me of my dad its a compliment #tbh love how i clowned on ichi for being on premium copium bout arakawa but highkey i woulda done the same bout my dad.. i get it ichi.. #anyway :) i legally get to talk about my day with him now :)) HE SAID THE FUNNIEST SHIT UPON SEEING ME #HE SAID ‘oh wow we dress similar :)’ and keep in mind. he was wearing a latte brown coat with a black turtleneck and pants and shoes #meanwhile. i approach With Black Pants And Shoes Admittedly but then im in this goofy old ass jacket with a red scarf #and a crane-decorated dress shirt that i got two buttons undone on like DAAD you are senile. hes so funny #so fun my dad actually recognized this was the jacket he got me- it was one of the first things he bought for me after i told My Secret 🙈 #also i finally asked how tall he was and i can’t believe my dad matches the criteria to be an rgg character he’s fuckin 6’1 like i thought #AH but today was really nice- i got to hang with my sis and her husband as well as my dad’s wife :) #it was awful tho cause the second my sis saw my dad’s outfit she’s just like ‘it’s so kdramacore’ AND SHES RIIIGHT 😭😭 #we later found out dad’s wife loves kpop…. and she bought him his new clothes…. so we are no longer surprised….. AWFUL. #honestly i could write a drama based off my dad’s life i really could it has elements for it. i mean ig i kinda do that already dont i #i borrow. anyways. today was fun :) even if i almost lost my mind trying to take the train the first time #this train system was weird… it wa worth tho it was great seein popop again #yeah….. ugh i have to still drive home from the station. and hope my car is still there #i get very paranoid leaving my car alone so openly i dont like it… #anyways. bye bye :) i might nap til my stop or work on a fic i started #‘snap what happened to’ dont worry about it i need to look at something else or ill scream #ok bye 👋