#words how little they mean*
Can we stop sleeping on sad beautiful tragic? I’m tired of everyone acting like it’s not the best song on red
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So let's talk about the Lost Generation.
This is the generation that came of age during WWI and the 1918 flu pandemic. They witnessed their world collapse in the first war that spread around the globe, and they -- in retrospect, optimistically -- called it the "war to end all wars". And that war was a quagmire. The trenches on the Western Front were notoriously awful, unsanitary and cold and wet and teeming with sickness, and bloody battles were fought to gain or lose a few feet of territory, and all because a series of alliances caused one assassination in one unstable area to spiral into a brutal large-scale war fought on the ground by people who mostly had no personal stake in the outcomes and gained nothing from winning.
On some of the worst-hit battlefields, the land is still too toxic for plant growth.
And on the heels of this horrific war, a pandemic struck. It's often referred to as "the Spanish flu" because Spain was neutral in the war, and so was the first country to admit that their people were dropping like flies. By the time the warring countries were willing to face the disease, it was far too late to contain it.
Anywhere from 50 to 100 million people worldwide would die from it. 675,000 were in the US.
But once it was finally contained -- anywhere from a year to a year and a half later -- the 20s had begun, and they began roaring.
Hedonism abounded. Alcohol flowed like water in spite of Prohibition. Music and dance and art fluorished. It was the age of Dadaism, an artistic movement of surrealism, absurdism, and abstraction. Women's skirts rose and haircuts shortened in a flamboyant rejection of the social norms of the previous decades. It was a time of glitter and glamour and jazz and flash, and (save for the art that was made) it was mostly skin deep.
Everyone stumbled out of the war and pandemic desperate to forget the horrific things they'd seen and done and all that they'd lost, and lost for nothing.
Reality seemed so pointless. It's not a coincidence that the two codifiers of the fantasy genre -- J.R.R. Tolkein and C.S. Lewis -- both fought in WWI. In fact, they were school friends before the war, and were the only two of their group to return home. Tolkein wanted to rewrite the history of Europe, while Lewis wanted to rebuild faith in the escape from the world.
(There's a reason Frodo goes into the West: physically, he returned to the Shire, but mentally, he never came back from Mordor, and he couldn't live his whole life there. There's a reason three of the Pevensies can never let go of Narnia: in Narnia, unlike reality, the things they did and fought for and believed in actually mattered, were actually worth the price they paid.)
It's also no coincidence that many of the famous artists of the time either killed themselves outright or let their vices do them in. The 20s roared both in spite of and because of the despair of the Lost Generation.
It was also the era of the Harlem Renaissance, which came to the feelings of alienation and disillusionment from a different direction: there was a large migration of Black people from the South, many of whom moved to the Harlem neighborhood of New York City. Obviously, the sense of alienation wasn't new to Black people in America, but the cultural shift allowed for them to publicly express it in the arts and literature in ways that hadn't been open to them before.
There was also horrific -- and state-sanctioned -- violence perpetrated against Black communities in this time, furthering the anger and despair and sense that society had not only failed them but had never even given them a chance. The term at the time was shell-shock, but now we know it as PTSD, and the vast majority of the people who came of age between 1910 and 1920 suffered from it, from one source or another.
It was an entire generation of trauma, and then the stock market crashed in 1929. Helpless, angry, impotent in the face of all that had seemingly destroyed the world for them, on the verge of utter despair, it was also a generation vulnerable to despotism. In the wake of all this chaos -- god, please, someone just take control of all this mess and set it right.
Sometimes the person who took over was decent and played by the rules and at least attempted to do the right thing. Other times, they were self-serving and hateful and committed to subjugating anyone who didn't fit their mold.
There are a lot of parallels to now, but we have something they didn't, and that's the fact that they did it first.
We know what their mistakes and sins were. We have the gift of history to see the whole picture and what worked and what failed. We as a species have walked this road before, and we weren't any happier or stronger or smarter about it the first time.
I think I want to reiterate that point: the Lost Generation were no stronger or weaker than Millennials and Gen Z are today. Plenty of both have risen up and fought back, and plenty have stumbled and been crushed under the weight. Plenty have been horribly abused by the people who were supposed to lead them, and plenty have done the abusing. Plenty of great art has been made by both, and plenty of it is escapist fantasy or scathing criticism or inspiring optimism or despairing pessimism.
We find humor in much the same things, because when reality is a mess, both the absurd and the self-deprecating become hilarious in comparison. There's a reason modern audiences don't find Seinfeld as funny as Gen X does, and many older audiences find modern comedy impenetrable and baffling -- they're different kinds of humor from different realities.
I think my point accumulates into this: in spite of how awful and hopeless and pointless everything feels, we do have a guide. We've been through this before, as a culture, and even though all of them are gone now, we have their words and art and memory to help us. We know now what they didn't then: there is a future.
The path forward is a hard one, and the only thing that makes it easier is human connection. Art -- in the most base sense, anything that is an expression of emotion and thought into a medium that allows it to be shared -- is the best and most enduring vehicle for that connection, to reach not just loved ones but people a thousand miles or a hundred years away.
So don't bottle it up. Don't pretend to be okay when you're not. Paint it, sculpt it, write it, play it, sing it, scream it, hell, you can even meme it out into the void. Whatever it takes to reach someone else -- not just for yourself but for others, both present and future.
Because, to quote the inimitable Terry Pratchett, "in a hundred years we'll all be dead, but here and now, we are alive."
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I've weeped for you an endless fleuve / where this flumen flows , may it takes also the love I do not know how to hold to influunt her way to you
D C de Oliveira from Forlornly “Waterways” |
September 25 2021, 10.38am . Saturday
(Dickson Wetland - ACT, May 2015)
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do, like- do you think sam and dean knew they were jewish?? because midwestern goyim don’t tend to throw around words like “mazel” and “dayenu” the way dean did, but honestly i think it would make a lot of sense if they didn’t know until part way through the show. because mary doesn’t strike me as a particularly observant or even ritualistic person, the kind who would make shabbat dinner or light candles every week. even if she went to high holidays, dean would have been too little to go with. he would have stayed home with john. and maybe they celebrated hanukkah, but would a four year old necessarily remember lighting some random candles? almost definitely not. and i could absolutely see john not mentioning it, not out of malice, but just that “you’re jewish” is about mary, and mary hurt to talk about. and like, no way he was stable enough to do hanukkah 1984 with the boys just a month after she died. and then he didn’t want to stick around long enough anywhere to be able to give them bar mitzvahs, so isn’t it easier if they just don’t know? after all, you can’t miss what you don’t know you’re supposed to have.
and then they find out they have a grandfather named moishe and they’re like “............ excuse me?”
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Jonny Sun, “How to cook scrambled eggs” from Goodbye, Again: Essays, Reflections, and Illustrations
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One thing I did NOT realize was going to make me extremely emotional as the second Critical Role campaign draws to a close here is that it’s once again driving home to me how surreal it feels to have Caduceus, confirmed aro/ace protagonist, as one of the main cast members -- and what it says about my relationship with fiction and representation that I get to enjoy the close of this story with so much less apprehension than usual.
Because like. The thing about finales is. They often pull romantic relationships out at the last minute in a way that I really struggle with. “Pair the spares” is a very real thing, and even when stories are better told than that, it is super, super common for a relationship that was well-developed but previously platonic to swing romantic really fast at the end of a story -- because that’s what happens in a happy ending, right? That’s what people are supposed to want, isn’t it?
And yeah, there have absolutely been stories I’ve followed where a main character or two -- or sometimes, though rarely, even more -- that I like a lot has stayed romantically unaffiliated all the way through, but the other thing, the thing where of course they end up in romantic relationship by the end, that’s how it’s supposed to go, happens so dang often that I just... expect it. I go into finales assuming it’s going to happen, with this vague sense of dread that by the time this story ends, there isn’t going to be anyone plausibly like me in it -- which is an awful feeling in general, but made far, far worse by the fact that I know the reason it happens is because people think it’s better, and happier, and more complete for that to be How Stories End -- without people like me in them
It also seems especially common for it to happen in stories that have other queer representation in them -- I don’t know why, exactly, but I do know that all the examples I can think of that have left me feeling the most utterly gut-punched have all been ones that other friends of mine have actually been thrilled over, because there are characters like them in it..... but no one like me. And of course I’m absolutely still happy when they get to have that! It makes me happy too! But it has also left me with this awful feeling that I have to wait my turn to be represented in stories, after everyone else gets it, and be willing to smile and congratulate all these other people even while personally feeling like I’ve had the rug pulled out from under me, over and over again.
So it’s a lot for me to have this story -- which I love! which many of my friends love! which is important to a number of people I know because of all the other kinds of representation in it! -- and get to look at it in this totally different way, where I already know for sure, without that vague dread that I always get when stories I love end, for the very first time in my life, that I will get to be included in the end of this one. I’ve never had that kind of guarantee, and I’ve never realized how much of a weight off my shoulders it is to know already “Someone like you is going to be a part of this happy ending”
Which. Goddamn. Saying that feels good would be an understatement.
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"I'm not mad I'm just disappointed."
Toshinori tries to stay positive. He hasn't completely pushed Yamada out of the picture quite like Aizawa has, since he's still hoping there'll be a turnaround. He knows Loudspeaker only did what he did 'cause he's scared. I think Toshinori can empathize with the whole situation. After Nighteye. Maybe.
Mostly, All Might just leaves Loudspeaker be and focuses on making sure Aizawa is doing alright. He has Midoryia to worry about anyway.
From what I can tell from the light novels and Teamup Missions chapter 7, the two have quite a good friendship. I can see them having a bit of a father-son dynamic.
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could you expand on why you don't really like bugs bunny?
oh, i don't dislike him at all! he's probably in my top 5 characters (and if not, #6) i LOVE his earlier cartoons and (i have a million different stories as to how i got into LT but this is also very true) i wanted to start watching more LT to see more of Bugs. it's basically the same case with my relationsip w/ Chuck Jones' Daffy, i'm not a fan of the later world weary, smug Chuck Jones bunny.
the '40s, excitable, brash, fast-talking and incredibly New York Bugs is my favorite and i think he's a lot more interesting when he's more reactionary. i'd say my "dislike" is more restlessness than anything, i feel like he was toned down wayyyyyyy too much in the '50s and '60s and fell too deep into the formula that you always know he's going to win. i feel like the calm, smug side to him is okay, but BORING--i like the fast pace of the '40s shorts much better. i'd rather see him get dragged away kicking and screaming by the cops and yelling at Cecil Turtle than see him make a smug face at the camera for the 8th time in 2 minutes, y'know (a nd this isn't to put Chuck Jones down at all, i've softened up a LOOOOOOT in the past 2 years because i used to vehemently REFUSE to touch anything he made after 1950 which is positively ridiculous, it's all a matter of taste and me being picky)
shorts like Tortoise Wins By a Hare, The Heckling Hare, Little Red Riding Rabbit, Slick Hare, Bugs Bunny Gets the Boid, The Unruly Hare, Easter Yeggs, Case of the Missing Hare, Rabbit Transit, Rhapsody Rabbit, Bugs Bunny Rides Again and a WHOLE list of others are some of my FAVORITES and i REALLY enjoy them! i like that he's energetic and brash and spirited, and i have a big soft spot for his '41-'42 egg head design
i just don't talk about him as much because i don't have as much to say. he doesn't reach out and grab me like Daffy and Porky do (which, i think personal bias comes into play because i can relate to the both of them a lot and dissect their characters easier HAHA whereas Bugs i don't relate to as much) and i don't know as much about him-- i haven't seen every short (there are even some '40s Bugs shorts i haven't seen).
i like him a LOT!! i just don't have as much to say and my interpretation/tastes don't really gel with fandom interpretations of him. i honestly like how he is in the (earlier) cartoons as is and don't have as much to expand on. there are plenty of Bugs shorts i love and hold dearly!
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I’ve got you.
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song and silence
det var så många röster... själva i sin röst... förstår du vad jag menar? och sen så sjöng... högst...du sjöng från hjärtat ändå. they were all on the stage next to simon, but his was the only voice coming through loud and clear. they were lost, but simon was singing from the heart, singing the words wilhelm was too afraid to say.
wilhelm hears a lot of voices telling him what to do and who to be, ones that just sound like noise to him. säg efter mig. du är bara tyst. he is told to sit silent, but simon sings his heart. he sang it as wilhelm sat silent listening in the chapel, and he sang it as he sat silent in the sea of pounding sound at the initiation party. all the voices fade into meaninglessness when he meets simon's eyes.
sitting outside together, wilhelm hears august calling for him in the distance. he hides, asking simon to hide too. tyst säger jag! he's covering simon's mouth with his hand. i told you to be quiet!
wilhelm is not free to speak as simon does. du behöver inte berätta några detaljer. jag vill inte höra några. njut av det där. sen kommer folk att börja tycka en massa saker. that's what erik tells him. i don't want any details. enjoy yourself, soon people will start having opinions. he can be himself, just as long as no one sees. the gaze of the eyes pressed against the glass will try to find them. if they want to escape it together, then they have to keep quiet.
we're going to get out of here. the horror movie dialogue makes them a promise as their fingers interlock.
but sara's eyes find them first. jag har sett hur ni tittar på varandra. wilhelm runs out of the room, running through the tall grass like the character on the screen.
stay where you are. don't move. save your voice.
stay in the room simon. he's telling you not to speak yet, save it and stay strong. stay above the surface looking at the stars, don't get pulled down into the underground.
stay in the room. if you follow him there's no going back.
but simon was always going to follow him. först försökte du hjälpa pappa, sen mig, och nu wilhelm. first pappa, then me, now wilhelm. he follows after them all.
over here! wilhelm still calls out to him from behind the glass. jag är inte... förstår du vad jag menar? he's trying to tell him without saying it in so many words. all he has is the silence and a dampened scream with eyes everywhere watching him. jag vill va med dig, but it's caught in his throat. he wants to listen to simon, to just be with him, but he can't say it.
meeting simon's eyes, wilhelm waits for his answer in the now empty gym. he sits in the silence, unsure if simon will speak to him again. but he looks back, speaks back. the empty space fills with music of the theme that follows their love, a song they sing together.
then the car crashes. then the entire world submerges beneath the surface.
wilhelm and simon sit apart, the room empty and silent again. it's fading, but simon's song still reverberates a ghost in the space between. i’ll remember you...
but wilhelm is afraid. he looks down. his brother was buried and he feels the dirt crumbling overhead. jag tänker att vi kanske ska glömma det. jag kan inte hålla på med det här längre. forget. i can't keep doing this. he is slipping away, slipping into the abyss. it's not simon's fault, but he can't say it.
until one night gone swimming in the substances washes it away. jag tycker om dig. no facades to hide behind. no more pretending or silence. i like you, and that is not fake. simon follows after him into the night.
but in the morning sunbeam light the drugs have worn off and the world is crashing in. malin is knocking on the door. one more time he asks simon to hide, hand over his mouth.
du kan vänta tills jag och livvakterna har gått ner. sen kan du följa efter, okej? men måste se ut som att du kommer från bussen. wilhelm tells him what it means to follow after, that he has to to make it look like he didn’t spend the night. but he is also tries to sweeten this bitter truth, asking nicely despite not wanting to ask at all. you can wait until the bodyguards and i have gone down. then you can follow. okay? but we have to make it look like you came from the bus.
each word is a wish it was different. he’s wishing that he wasn’t interrupted a moment ago, that he could stay in bed with simon all day, that he didn’t have to leave and make it look like it didn’t happen. he doesn’t want to hide, but interrupting are the expectations and realities of his life. malin knocks on the door and reminds him who he’s asked to be: the crown prince. he is still contained. he is still seen through the glass. wilhelm wanted to escape it for a moment, and he did, but that was floating above and now it’s time to be dragged back down below. so he says the words with a kindness as he and simon both sink back into the underground still with the light of the stars in their eyes.
when they're found the glow goes dim. wilhelm doesn't know what to do, he's afraid and slipping away again.
följa ditt hjärta. follow your heart. he remembers the night in bjärstad when simon's arms were around him. the world may have sunk below trying to quiet the pounding, but that is his heart. simon still sings it.
det ser ut som att vi inte kan tysta ner det här. kristina is telling him to sit silent again. we have a chance to make this go away. she brings wilhelm back to the palace and away from simon who speaks back. he wants to resist it but his scream gets contained behind the glass. ayub reads to simon the words he never wanted to hear, all the noise around him drowning as the camera holds onto his shocked expression listening for a voice that is fading.
when wilhelm returns because he needs to talk, it is simon who has fallen silent. they suffocate in the things unsaid. wilhelm tries to fill the space but the words evaporate into the bleak, cloudy sky. simon says nothing.
jag vill inte säga nånting. wilhelm tried to fix it. he tried to keep simon above the surface in the light of the stars. he tried to protect him but the underground swallowed them both up. he tried but it wasn't enough.
simon leaves quietly behind him, so the silence finds wilhelm again. he is buried in it when he learns august uploaded the video, buried when his mother tells him the it will protect him. jag skydda dig.
he hangs up the phone and cuts her off, a slice of the sharpened silence blade. the camera falters while still holding him centered in the frame. he looks down with a realization growing in his eyes. his brother is dead. his cousin betrayed him. his mother won't defend him. his love had to walk away. he is on his own.
the silence remains as the camera cuts and he shuffles restlessly. running his fingers though his hair, he now looks up. still a doubt lingers. he seeks the stars but the sky is clouded over. he wants a powerful voice but there are no words. language fails, only remaining the sound of a strike against to produce a flame.
vi har en chans att tysta ner det här nu. now he refuses. now he will sing. the city's on fire but it's beautiful as revolution plays louder. the glass shatters and the facade burns. if no light from the stars above, then flames below.
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November 1st, 1997
Happy Birthday to the amazing and talented Aleksi Kaunisvesi/Alex Mattson!!!
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8x21 “The Great Escapist” | I could never go on a quest like that
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“And I am your future”
“I am your past”
“Never forget we were built to last”
“Step out of the shadows”
“And into my life.”
“Silence the voices that haunt you inside”
“Just say the word, we’ll take on the world”
“Just say you’re hurt,”
“We’ll face the worst”
“Nobody knows you, the way that I know you”
“Look in my eyes”
“I will never desert you”
“And just say the word”
“We’ll take on the world”
To the duo whose devotion and love for each other will always make me soft, to the OTP that means the whole world to me, to the couple that I love with my whole heart,
HAPPY BOKUAKA DAY!!!
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“I didn’t know when you would come, or how, but... I knew you would come.“
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i get that the intentions are good but when fans make “headcanons” that fictional characters are part of some marginalized group that they are not part of in canon, and said fans are not part of that marginalized group, it often comes off as at best shallow and at worst offensive. ask yourself: where does this headcanon come from? does it inform the character in a specific compelling way, and if not, are you simply (subconsciously or not) noticing stereotypes of a marginalized group in a character, and therefore deciding that the character is part of said group? what are the implications that this headcanon would have? are you doing this because you actually care about this marginalized group, or because you want to look good, or (worse) because you think this marginalized identity is somehow “exotic”? i'm definitely not saying you can't make these headcanons, just that you should be mindful.
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anyways i think its kind of funny (and also really concerning) how so many c!dream apologists will be like "c!dreams character doesnt revolve around c!tommy!! stop reducing him to his relationship with c!tommy!!" and then blame c!tommy for how c!dream treats him and go all "c!tommy destroyed everything c!dream is just reacting to what he did!!" like. hello?
people seem to just forget that tommy didnt do anything to dteam that they didnt already do to each other kcnsks like c!dreams obsession with c!tommy started when he started literally stalking him during the disc war 😭 stop blaming c!tommy for c!dream being a weirdo towards him you dont have to resort to victim blaming to make a point about how c!dream is a fully fleshed character
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if i don’t write down all my thoughts about surviving this summer sometime soon i think i will explode !
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licherally why did they cut this scene from tmp
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Clyla headcanons.. Don’t read these /Ih
Okay so you didn’t listen to me >:/ Shock
Some of these were more character focused so I split them up a little. I’ll probably keep adding to this whenever this ship drags me down- Also omitted all the ones with Tiso, those can be for another time- or applied to art preferably.
Because of dealing with the infection, Myla’s memories are scattered. She has a basic sense of self and her general goals, the main one being that she has to work hard and make money whenever she can. While she can eventually remember songs, she can never remember where they came from or who sang them to her. This is a part of why she stays in Hallownest, because where exactly could she go now? This also adds to why she's insistent on being with Cloth initially. So little options and none of them seemed as appealing.
She also has a warped sense of time, and her sleep is all over the place. So while Cloth is sleeping, Myla is awake, either listening to her chirp(?) underground or trying to find something to do that isn’t wandering her scrambled thoughts. During the day she’ll sometimes feel drowsy as they’re travelling and so this eventually developed the habit in having to carry her around.
Most people who meet or interact with her believe she’s just naturally very cheerful. Truthfully, Myla just doesn’t realize when she’s feeling down or overwhelmed. (Also as a result of the infection? Probably) and therefore has a hard time expressing emotions that aren’t what she thinks she should be feeling. An indication of when she’s feeling off is her stutter. This is something Cloth recognizes early on but has no idea how to approach the topic.
Myla loves contact, she’s too afraid to ask for it from Cloth in particular (initially) and so often seeks it out from her other friends. I mean after they’ve established that they like each other, then yes…unprompted cuddles...
She’s also the type in which once she starts something, refuses to stop until it’s done. When she takes a break she finds it difficult to start her task again and so she often avoids doing so. Unhealthy, may need to talk about that at some point. But just ‘talking’ to each other properly is so difficult for the two of them to do.
Her stutter is the kind that often shows up when she’s nervous or excited, or even lost in thought and not really comprehending what she’s saying. Cloth finds it endearing.
Can’t count the amount of times she’s wanted to ask Cloth about her more-than-concerning ‘ambitions’ but never knew how to approach the topic, or whether she even should. While she’s outspoken with everyone else, Cloth is the one person she’s never known how to approach, or why she even cared so much about the way she did. And it was daunting.
Cloth herself doesn’t like singing as much (shock horror) But she loves listening to Myla. She’s asked a couple of times where she’s learned those songs from but never received any proper answers, specifically because Myla herself has forgotten.
The entire prospect of being in a relationship again was completely out of the question for her. (SO Uh while I’m not gonna get into it here, it was unrequited at first- I’ll elaborate and maybe post on exactly how I see their relationship develop someday, but that itself is… over 1000 words right now- I’ll spare you bc merciful) Anyway, that eventually did change.
She’s not as open about their relationship, since a part of her wants to keep it safe and intimate. Myla doesn’t always get the message-
Not at first, but Cloth eventually becomes a great listener. Hearing about other people’s troubles made her realize she wasn’t alone in dealing with them, and so it became a comfort to focus on and support them to an extent... also her gf rambles.
She’s proud of her strength. Y’know what? I’m proud of her too
She often likes looking at the big picture from time to time, since she’s the type to be so invested with making sure all the little things go her way. One of these things is looking at Myla and thinking; ‘Oh. I’m dating her.’ Which makes her happy… smol girlfriend is a comfort and a delight to be around.
She can sleep anywhere. Even while standing, it’s always embarrassing.
Because of aspects like the infection scrambling your mind (Myla), or naturally feeling the need to lie and cover up how you actually feel (Cloth), talking to each other genuinely for them is really difficult. Never results in fights, just misunderstandings. More often results in a back and forth with Cloth getting frustrated and eventually giving up, and Myla being left confused and simply forgetting it happened. (They eventually work on this dw..)
They often like to keep their relationship to themselves, just enjoying it intimately. If anyone ever asks anything regarding it though, Myla rambles incessantly and Cloth simply just hides away-
Myla likes to romanticise everything Cloth does; Cloth prefers simplicity but still adores that about her.
On the rare occasion they’re both awake at night they might start talking about everything they’ve seen together. ‘What a strange and funny kingdom we’ve walked into-’ ‘But don’t you find any of this horrific?’ ‘..Yes, of course. I was just trying to show off in front of you.’ ‘No need! I already think you’re amazing.’ ‘Oh wow...smooth.’
And if we really wanted to get sappy- ‘What do you think our future’s going to look like?’ conversations… I’ll spare you those.
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why are you so LOUD
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