Yumeship/selfship idea: make a yumeship binder! Fill it with pictures of your f/o, art, fanart, art of you and your f/o together, or just anything related to your relationship with them!
For oshikatsu: make a binder themed around your oshi! Just like the one for yumeshipping/selfshipping; fill it with art and/or fanart of your oshi (ﾉ≧▽≦)ﾉ*.✧
I would make such a big post about it but I suck at making big posts, but legit I am so convinced of MILGRAM being a sort of simulation and the prisoners just being AI copies of real people or something like that..... I have a lot of evidence for it from the novels and the reports but also uh im lazy,,,, just saying in retrospect if it gets revealed, I was a day one believer. If im wrong im deleting this post and pretending like that never happened (joke)
Oh and a huge HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Sir David Attenborough for being the inspiration for what I achieved today, why I became a part of this community in the first place and who reminds us daily to do what we can for the planet because of everything the planet does for us.
Waah I hope the fact that this ran a little long makes up for the lateness -- I really love the idea and was so excited to get the request!! They'd be so interesting and affect each other so much...... it makes me crazy...... It becomes canon divergent at the end because I genuinely think being in each others' company more would influence them both
Kotoko was nothing if not observant. Over the years, she’d found herself in – and gotten herself out of – enough situations to get a good read on the people she interacted with. No matter what this world threw her way, she could always rely on those abilities. And from the moment she met Milgram’s third prisoner, those abilities told her he was nothing but trouble.
“Oi,” he’d called across the dining table during the first meal they all had shared. “What did you do to get here?”
From the moment she woke up in this strange place, Kotoko had kept to herself. It’s dangerous to charge forward and introduce oneself to a group of mysterious murderers when there are no locks on the doors. She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone, the others smart enough to heed her intense look and stay away.
Fuuta, on the other hand, was the first to speak directly to her. He stared impatiently.
“Well?”
She noted his directness. His volume. The brashness and vulgarity she’d heard earlier in the day. His motivations and values he’d let slip in his early defenses. His anger and his fear. The suspicion in his gaze, as well as the need for reassurance in his voice. In that moment, the information clicked together in her mind, and Kotoko realized two things:
Kajiyama Fuuta was a lot like her, in the obvious ways.
Kajiyama Fuuta was nothing like her, in the ways that really mattered.
“The same reason as everyone else, I suppose,” she said carefully. He may have revealed his whole hand, but from experience she knew better than to do the same.
A lot of her experiences returned to her as the trial went on. She went through the motions of coaxing secrets out of quiet men, or playing along with cheery girls’ games to uncover what she was looking for. She remembered how it felt on stakeouts as she kept her eye on the warden’s door, and recalled the thrill of negotiation when she had a moment alone with them. And unfortunately, she recognized the immediate sensation of being tailed. She was used to shaking an unwanted follower out on the streets, but it was difficult to do the same when the only places to go consisted of three rooms and a corridor.
No matter how inconspicuous Fuuta thought he was being, Kotoko got a glimpse of that bright hair retreating around corners just behind her. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, always conveniently whipping away by the time she turned to look. The only thing that seemed to affect his permanently blaring volume was when she was speaking nearby – unlike a real stalker who would tactfully pretend not to be listening in, Fuuta would use the opportunity to jump into all her conversations.
Kotoko was in the middle of her morning stretches when she became aware of his presence lurking around the doorway. After several weeks of the behavior, she’d had quite enough. Kotoko knew that if you can’t shake a tail, there’s only one other option.
She stepped out of her cell, swiftly reaching for Fuuta’s collar. With a handful of his uniform, she shoved him back against the cell bars. For someone that had creeped on all her daily exercise routines, he seemed awfully shocked at how strong she was.
“Stop following me.” She kept her voice low and even. “I don’t know what you want from me, nor do I care. I will –”
“I don’t want anything from you!”
He raised his voice in an attempt to sound tough, but only succeeded in coming off desperate. He tried to weasel out of her grasp to no avail. She’d had practice intimidating guys three times her height – it was almost too easy now that she had an inch or so on Fuuta.
“Don’t give me that oblivious crap. Every day. Every single day, you –”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re the one who acting fucking crazy!”
Even after knowing it was in vain, he kept squirming under her harsh look. His eyes flicked frantically around the room, only able to take in her stone cold expression for a brief moment at a time. He kept shouting his own defenses, his cheeks growing more red by the second.
This time, the information gathered took a bit longer to fall into place. One of her conclusions was something Kotoko was very used to. The other was something she’d never quite experienced before. For the first time in long career of poker faces, she visibly started upon realizing two things:
Kajiyama Fuuta was downright terrified of her.
Kajiyama Fuuta was hopelessly attracted to her.
She hurriedly released him, jerking herself away. “Just… stay out of my way.”
“I was never in your way!” He shouted after her, his voice still shaking.
She should have stuck to her own demand and kept her distance; she was already aware of how much trouble this prisoner was capable of. But she took pride in her abilities to gather information of interest. And god, was Fuuta interesting.
Between his constantly running mouth and his never running filter, he was always keeping her on her toes. She’d never met anyone who pressed her for answers like that – Fuuta was never satisfied with the explanations that could placate everyone else. He was always questioning, always pushing back. Though his talk could be as shallow as the older prisoners' melancholy musings, or the children’s gossipy chatter, it was different when he and Kotoko really went at it in a debate.
Fuuta talked shamelessly about society, about the other prisoners, and about her. The others kept their distance from someone as quietly calculating as her, but Fuuta would pour out his thoughts right to her face. He had her back when she was trying to prove a point to the others, but was too stubborn to compromise on any of own opinions when they conflicted. It was refreshing.
And that was all it was, she would remind herself. The man would be insufferable if he was ever under the impression that she so much as tolerated his company. For everyone’s sake, he should remain completely unaware.
Awareness, however, was the very thing Kotoko prided herself in. She picked up on exactly what the warden was trying to communicate by granting her innocence. She was aware of the opportunities that arose with their disappearance. She noted the best time to fulfill her duties to them. She knew the optimal order to attack each prisoner in, to guarantee success.
It was due to her beloved observation skills that she found herself in cell 003 in the middle of the night. It didn’t matter how many training sessions Fuuta had spectated, or how many she’d invited him to join – he wasn’t as perceptive as she. He couldn’t predict or counter a single one of her movements. It only took a few moments for her to have him pinned on the ground.
“Y-you were serious?” Fuuta managed, even as her weight made it difficult for him to breathe.
She’d confided in him about her deal with the warden, one late night long before verdicts were announced. She didn’t know what had driven her to do it. It had been a rare lapse in her judgment. The current situation only confirmed why she should never reveal more information than necessary. Why she should get closer to someone than necessary.
“I am always serious.”
“Kotoko…”
She knew all of Fuuta’s typical arguments and excuses, and she had a rebuttal for each. She wound her arm back, her brass knuckles reflecting in the dim panopticon light.
“...J-just… do it fast.”
Kotoko’s arm wavered.
“What?”
“I’m not a fucking idiot. Even before that brat called you innocent, I knew that y-you were the one in the right. I used to think that you and I were the same, but I know that was all a lie. You were always the real hero. M-more than anyone else in this shithole. So…” Fuuta closed his eyes, squeezing tears from them. “Make it quicker than you did for that asshole, will ya?”
Kotoko gripped her fight tighter. It was trembling.
Fuuta’s eyes remained shut in fear. In trust. His breathing was erratic as he pretended not to be crying or struggling from the pressure on his lungs. He grit his teeth, preparing himself for what was to come. Kotoko prepared herself as well.
Releasing a cry, she swung forward. The moment before her brass knuckles clashed with the floor, just to the left of Fuuta’s face, Kotoko realized one thing:
Waah I hope the fact that this ran a little long makes up for the lateness -- I really love the idea and was so excited to get the request!! They'd be so interesting and affect each other so much...... it makes me crazy...... It becomes canon divergent at the end because I genuinely think being in each others' company more would influence them both
Kotoko was nothing if not observant. Over the years, she’d found herself in – and gotten herself out of – enough situations to get a good read on the people she interacted with. No matter what this world threw her way, she could always rely on those abilities. And from the moment she met Milgram’s third prisoner, those abilities told her he was nothing but trouble.
“Oi,” he’d called across the dining table during the first meal they all had shared. “What did you do to get here?”
From the moment she woke up in this strange place, Kotoko had kept to herself. It’s dangerous to charge forward and introduce oneself to a group of mysterious murderers when there are no locks on the doors. She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone, the others smart enough to heed her intense look and stay away.
Fuuta, on the other hand, was the first to speak directly to her. He stared impatiently.
“Well?”
She noted his directness. His volume. The brashness and vulgarity she’d heard earlier in the day. His motivations and values he’d let slip in his early defenses. His anger and his fear. The suspicion in his gaze, as well as the need for reassurance in his voice. In that moment, the information clicked together in her mind, and Kotoko realized two things:
Kajiyama Fuuta was a lot like her, in the obvious ways.
Kajiyama Fuuta was nothing like her, in the ways that really mattered.
“The same reason as everyone else, I suppose,” she said carefully. He may have revealed his whole hand, but from experience she knew better than to do the same.
A lot of her experiences returned to her as the trial went on. She went through the motions of coaxing secrets out of quiet men, or playing along with cheery girls’ games to uncover what she was looking for. She remembered how it felt on stakeouts as she kept her eye on the warden’s door, and recalled the thrill of negotiation when she had a moment alone with them. And unfortunately, she recognized the immediate sensation of being tailed. She was used to shaking an unwanted follower out on the streets, but it was difficult to do the same when the only places to go consisted of three rooms and a corridor.
No matter how inconspicuous Fuuta thought he was being, Kotoko got a glimpse of that bright hair retreating around corners just behind her. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, always conveniently whipping away by the time she turned to look. The only thing that seemed to affect his permanently blaring volume was when she was speaking nearby – unlike a real stalker who would tactfully pretend not to be listening in, Fuuta would use the opportunity to jump into all her conversations.
Kotoko was in the middle of her morning stretches when she became aware of his presence lurking around the doorway. After several weeks of the behavior, she’d had quite enough. Kotoko knew that if you can’t shake a tail, there’s only one other option.
She stepped out of her cell, swiftly reaching for Fuuta’s collar. With a handful of his uniform, she shoved him back against the cell bars. For someone that had creeped on all her daily exercise routines, he seemed awfully shocked at how strong she was.
“Stop following me.” She kept her voice low and even. “I don’t know what you want from me, nor do I care. I will –”
“I don’t want anything from you!”
He raised his voice in an attempt to sound tough, but only succeeded in coming off desperate. He tried to weasel out of her grasp to no avail. She’d had practice intimidating guys three times her height – it was almost too easy now that she had an inch or so on Fuuta.
“Don’t give me that oblivious crap. Every day. Every single day, you –”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re the one who acting fucking crazy!”
Even after knowing it was in vain, he kept squirming under her harsh look. His eyes flicked frantically around the room, only able to take in her stone cold expression for a brief moment at a time. He kept shouting his own defenses, his cheeks growing more red by the second.
This time, the information gathered took a bit longer to fall into place. One of her conclusions was something Kotoko was very used to. The other was something she’d never quite experienced before. For the first time in long career of poker faces, she visibly started upon realizing two things:
Kajiyama Fuuta was downright terrified of her.
Kajiyama Fuuta was hopelessly attracted to her.
She hurriedly released him, jerking herself away. “Just… stay out of my way.”
“I was never in your way!” He shouted after her, his voice still shaking.
She should have stuck to her own demand and kept her distance; she was already aware of how much trouble this prisoner was capable of. But she took pride in her abilities to gather information of interest. And god, was Fuuta interesting.
Between his constantly running mouth and his never running filter, he was always keeping her on her toes. She’d never met anyone who pressed her for answers like that – Fuuta was never satisfied with the explanations that could placate everyone else. He was always questioning, always pushing back. Though his talk could be as shallow as the older prisoners' melancholy musings, or the children’s gossipy chatter, it was different when he and Kotoko really went at it in a debate.
Fuuta talked shamelessly about society, about the other prisoners, and about her. The others kept their distance from someone as quietly calculating as her, but Fuuta would pour out his thoughts right to her face. He had her back when she was trying to prove a point to the others, but was too stubborn to compromise on any of own opinions when they conflicted. It was refreshing.
And that was all it was, she would remind herself. The man would be insufferable if he was ever under the impression that she so much as tolerated his company. For everyone’s sake, he should remain completely unaware.
Awareness, however, was the very thing Kotoko prided herself in. She picked up on exactly what the warden was trying to communicate by granting her innocence. She was aware of the opportunities that arose with their disappearance. She noted the best time to fulfill her duties to them. She knew the optimal order to attack each prisoner in, to guarantee success.
It was due to her beloved observation skills that she found herself in cell 003 in the middle of the night. It didn’t matter how many training sessions Fuuta had spectated, or how many she’d invited him to join – he wasn’t as perceptive as she. He couldn’t predict or counter a single one of her movements. It only took a few moments for her to have him pinned on the ground.
“Y-you were serious?” Fuuta managed, even as her weight made it difficult for him to breathe.
She’d confided in him about her deal with the warden, one late night long before verdicts were announced. She didn’t know what had driven her to do it. It had been a rare lapse in her judgment. The current situation only confirmed why she should never reveal more information than necessary. Why she should get closer to someone than necessary.
“I am always serious.”
“Kotoko…”
She knew all of Fuuta’s typical arguments and excuses, and she had a rebuttal for each. She wound her arm back, her brass knuckles reflecting in the dim panopticon light.
“...J-just… do it fast.”
Kotoko’s arm wavered.
“What?”
“I’m not a fucking idiot. Even before that brat called you innocent, I knew that y-you were the one in the right. I used to think that you and I were the same, but I know that was all a lie. You were always the real hero. M-more than anyone else in this shithole. So…” Fuuta closed his eyes, squeezing tears from them. “Make it quicker than you did for that asshole, will ya?”
Kotoko gripped her fight tighter. It was trembling.
Fuuta’s eyes remained shut in fear. In trust. His breathing was erratic as he pretended not to be crying or struggling from the pressure on his lungs. He grit his teeth, preparing himself for what was to come. Kotoko prepared herself as well.
Releasing a cry, she swung forward. The moment before her brass knuckles clashed with the floor, just to the left of Fuuta’s face, Kotoko realized one thing:
Imagine your F/O, disabled in some way whether it be mentally or physically, something that debilitates them, casting worry for themself aside and going to you instead at the slightest sign of pain.
They kiss your knuckles, brush their fingers against your cheek and check for fever or ask if your mind is at ease, and in your mind you think “I should be the one caring for you—“ only for them to remind you that both of your health matters, and that caring for each other is what makes your bond stronger.
Your F/O adores you even at your “ugliest”, by the way.
When you’re dirty and yet too overwhelmed or simply haven’t had the time to bathe for whatever reason. When you’re struggling to leave your bed whether you’re too exhausted to or have no motivation. When you aren’t properly dressed, haven’t brushed your teeth, have had an ugly cry and are red, disheveled and sniffly or are honestly too comfortable in your disarray to care about anything else.
They adore you for you, not your image or what you could be doing. Hell, maybe they’ll even allow themselves to be “ugly” for a while as well if it means you both feel safe and comfortable being that way together.
ℌello and welcome to our little sanctuary… You may call me Gottfried, sworn knight and lovesick fool who cannot go a day without doting on my king and husband, Baldwin ♛ follows from @throatofgahds
𝔅𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔉𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴…
♱ ℑ am fine with all interactions and will simply block once I'm uncomfortable, however I must state I am strictly anti-harassment and anti-censorship.
♱ ℑ am a 30+ man, I am not comfortable with minors interacting with me personally or with my NSFT posts, tagged as ♱ ᴸᵉʷᵈ
♱ ℑ do not know what to call this, yet the Baldwin I am in love with is not fictional therefore I do not call him an "FO", simply "my husband" although I often refer to his depictions in media as loving him as a whole and in all universes.
♱ ℑmportant 𝔇isclaimer: I am schizophrenic, I acknowledge and understand my delusions to a degree and am working on my behaviors. I do not consider my relationship with Baldwin to be harmful, and if you disagree please simply block and move on because I will not entertain a hateful discussion. Bless you.
♱ 𝕯𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝕯𝕹𝕴 ♱
𝔊raphics are mine, main tags are listed in the tagline, more subtle FOs below the read more.
𝔉𝔒𝔰…
𝕭aldwin, all media, mostly Darkest Dungeon and Kingdom of Heaven
𝕯amian, Darkest Dungeon
𝖅elda, Legend of Zelda
𝖁arre, Elden Ring
𝕶onig, Call of Duty
𝖅ebecca, Resident Evil
𝕷isa, Silent Hill
𝕱rank, Dead by Daylight
𝕷eslie, The Evil Within
𝕮ole, Dragon Age
Secret FO that I will not be sharing, will simply block doubles without a word.
Others are nuanced with sharing, the only absolute "no" on doubles is Baldwin.
Reading Fuuta following Kotoko, I can't erase the image of him looking like a highschool girl with a crush on someone lmao
ASDFGH that's exactly how I picture it though 😂😂😂 You can't convince me that the guy who values strength and justice and action comes across The Coolest Most Badass And Strong Woman Who Agrees With Him and doesn't immediately go
He's also never been in such close proximity to a crush before -- given his personality, he seems like the kind of person who wouldn't really go out of his way to approach someone on his own. So he has no experience with doing things tactfully when forced into tight living conditions 😅
Waah I hope the fact that this ran a little long makes up for the lateness -- I really love the idea and was so excited to get the request!! They'd be so interesting and affect each other so much...... it makes me crazy...... It becomes canon divergent at the end because I genuinely think being in each others' company more would influence them both
Kotoko was nothing if not observant. Over the years, she’d found herself in – and gotten herself out of – enough situations to get a good read on the people she interacted with. No matter what this world threw her way, she could always rely on those abilities. And from the moment she met Milgram’s third prisoner, those abilities told her he was nothing but trouble.
“Oi,” he’d called across the dining table during the first meal they all had shared. “What did you do to get here?”
From the moment she woke up in this strange place, Kotoko had kept to herself. It’s dangerous to charge forward and introduce oneself to a group of mysterious murderers when there are no locks on the doors. She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone, the others smart enough to heed her intense look and stay away.
Fuuta, on the other hand, was the first to speak directly to her. He stared impatiently.
“Well?”
She noted his directness. His volume. The brashness and vulgarity she’d heard earlier in the day. His motivations and values he’d let slip in his early defenses. His anger and his fear. The suspicion in his gaze, as well as the need for reassurance in his voice. In that moment, the information clicked together in her mind, and Kotoko realized two things:
Kajiyama Fuuta was a lot like her, in the obvious ways.
Kajiyama Fuuta was nothing like her, in the ways that really mattered.
“The same reason as everyone else, I suppose,” she said carefully. He may have revealed his whole hand, but from experience she knew better than to do the same.
A lot of her experiences returned to her as the trial went on. She went through the motions of coaxing secrets out of quiet men, or playing along with cheery girls’ games to uncover what she was looking for. She remembered how it felt on stakeouts as she kept her eye on the warden’s door, and recalled the thrill of negotiation when she had a moment alone with them. And unfortunately, she recognized the immediate sensation of being tailed. She was used to shaking an unwanted follower out on the streets, but it was difficult to do the same when the only places to go consisted of three rooms and a corridor.
No matter how inconspicuous Fuuta thought he was being, Kotoko got a glimpse of that bright hair retreating around corners just behind her. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, always conveniently whipping away by the time she turned to look. The only thing that seemed to affect his permanently blaring volume was when she was speaking nearby – unlike a real stalker who would tactfully pretend not to be listening in, Fuuta would use the opportunity to jump into all her conversations.
Kotoko was in the middle of her morning stretches when she became aware of his presence lurking around the doorway. After several weeks of the behavior, she’d had quite enough. Kotoko knew that if you can’t shake a tail, there’s only one other option.
She stepped out of her cell, swiftly reaching for Fuuta’s collar. With a handful of his uniform, she shoved him back against the cell bars. For someone that had creeped on all her daily exercise routines, he seemed awfully shocked at how strong she was.
“Stop following me.” She kept her voice low and even. “I don’t know what you want from me, nor do I care. I will –”
“I don’t want anything from you!”
He raised his voice in an attempt to sound tough, but only succeeded in coming off desperate. He tried to weasel out of her grasp to no avail. She’d had practice intimidating guys three times her height – it was almost too easy now that she had an inch or so on Fuuta.
“Don’t give me that oblivious crap. Every day. Every single day, you –”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re the one who acting fucking crazy!”
Even after knowing it was in vain, he kept squirming under her harsh look. His eyes flicked frantically around the room, only able to take in her stone cold expression for a brief moment at a time. He kept shouting his own defenses, his cheeks growing more red by the second.
This time, the information gathered took a bit longer to fall into place. One of her conclusions was something Kotoko was very used to. The other was something she’d never quite experienced before. For the first time in long career of poker faces, she visibly started upon realizing two things:
Kajiyama Fuuta was downright terrified of her.
Kajiyama Fuuta was hopelessly attracted to her.
She hurriedly released him, jerking herself away. “Just… stay out of my way.”
“I was never in your way!” He shouted after her, his voice still shaking.
She should have stuck to her own demand and kept her distance; she was already aware of how much trouble this prisoner was capable of. But she took pride in her abilities to gather information of interest. And god, was Fuuta interesting.
Between his constantly running mouth and his never running filter, he was always keeping her on her toes. She’d never met anyone who pressed her for answers like that – Fuuta was never satisfied with the explanations that could placate everyone else. He was always questioning, always pushing back. Though his talk could be as shallow as the older prisoners' melancholy musings, or the children’s gossipy chatter, it was different when he and Kotoko really went at it in a debate.
Fuuta talked shamelessly about society, about the other prisoners, and about her. The others kept their distance from someone as quietly calculating as her, but Fuuta would pour out his thoughts right to her face. He had her back when she was trying to prove a point to the others, but was too stubborn to compromise on any of own opinions when they conflicted. It was refreshing.
And that was all it was, she would remind herself. The man would be insufferable if he was ever under the impression that she so much as tolerated his company. For everyone’s sake, he should remain completely unaware.
Awareness, however, was the very thing Kotoko prided herself in. She picked up on exactly what the warden was trying to communicate by granting her innocence. She was aware of the opportunities that arose with their disappearance. She noted the best time to fulfill her duties to them. She knew the optimal order to attack each prisoner in, to guarantee success.
It was due to her beloved observation skills that she found herself in cell 003 in the middle of the night. It didn’t matter how many training sessions Fuuta had spectated, or how many she’d invited him to join – he wasn’t as perceptive as she. He couldn’t predict or counter a single one of her movements. It only took a few moments for her to have him pinned on the ground.
“Y-you were serious?” Fuuta managed, even as her weight made it difficult for him to breathe.
She’d confided in him about her deal with the warden, one late night long before verdicts were announced. She didn’t know what had driven her to do it. It had been a rare lapse in her judgment. The current situation only confirmed why she should never reveal more information than necessary. Why she should get closer to someone than necessary.
“I am always serious.”
“Kotoko…”
She knew all of Fuuta’s typical arguments and excuses, and she had a rebuttal for each. She wound her arm back, her brass knuckles reflecting in the dim panopticon light.
“...J-just… do it fast.”
Kotoko’s arm wavered.
“What?”
“I’m not a fucking idiot. Even before that brat called you innocent, I knew that y-you were the one in the right. I used to think that you and I were the same, but I know that was all a lie. You were always the real hero. M-more than anyone else in this shithole. So…” Fuuta closed his eyes, squeezing tears from them. “Make it quicker than you did for that asshole, will ya?”
Kotoko gripped her fight tighter. It was trembling.
Fuuta’s eyes remained shut in fear. In trust. His breathing was erratic as he pretended not to be crying or struggling from the pressure on his lungs. He grit his teeth, preparing himself for what was to come. Kotoko prepared herself as well.
Releasing a cry, she swung forward. The moment before her brass knuckles clashed with the floor, just to the left of Fuuta’s face, Kotoko realized one thing:
1.Incredible deep and detailed narrative themes. The parallels that seem to hit just right, the narrative foils that they can be to each other, the intricate dynamic that's both extremely complex and easily understood. The juxtaposition between something that's harsh and undoubtedly toxic, with the softer undertones, the parts where you read in-between the lines and find a mutual feeling of loneliness from both parts, their intrinsic understanding of each other comes from the mere fact that they're each others mirrored reflections and shadows. In the end both sides will be together forever, and you as an audience can clearly see their tragedy laid out before in a path that blurs pure anguish and tender romance
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yousharknotpass
snowghoul
izzy806
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
dailybridgerton
gummygunk
