hello there!
i am liano, i am transgender and i really love kazuha very much.
i am a fic writer and i write especially for tomozuha/tomokazu. (sfw & nsfw ♡)
my links ;
ao3 | twitter
sheepfilms
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
$LAYYYTER
Stranger Things

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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Mike Driver
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cherry valley forever

roma★

Origami Around

titsay
h
will byers stan first human second
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@inkgota
hello there!
i am liano, i am transgender and i really love kazuha very much.
i am a fic writer and i write especially for tomozuha/tomokazu. (sfw & nsfw ♡)
my links ;
ao3 | twitter
I don't really bring Twitter drama to here but @ yaevanity is a groomer. Not only that but him and @ colonelhua tried to get a 16 year old harrased because she yumeships with dan heng and is still friends with Ren while knowing he's a groomer. Ren has stopped using twitter and moved to here to avoid accountability for grooming someone, please don't let him.
[Link] [Link] please refer to here for proofs
It's April 6th (in my time zone)
Happy international day of asexuality
actually i will write a poem about it, because i used to genuinely believe i wouldn't live to be 30. i said it isn't right for me. i said i just sense it: it was an inevitability. what i wasn't saying was the other thing: that i knew it would be by my hand, my actions. by my own deed.
and what would i tell myself, really, honestly, at 22. back in 2016. it's been ten years - a decade - and they've slipped by both so slowly and impossibly quickly. a third of my life in a blink.
there are so many bad things. it's hard not to start with that. i've always been a "bad news first" person anyway, and there's so many tragedies coming. personal and political. for a long time it felt like i had a stretch of bad luck, and the bad luck just wouldn't stop coming.
in 2016 it was still about a year before someone would spike my drink, and a bad thing would happen to me. in another six months i'll break up with my public embarrassment of a boyfriend. the world never really heals from this year, but i don't know that it was really ever whole in the first place.
what could i tell you about your life, though. there are funerals coming that you cannot still figure the shape of. you lose all of your grandparents, you lose other family members, the cancer is diagnosed in your cousin. for about two months you'll be fully blind, half blind for six months. you go through three cars, although only actually crash one of them (the other two were old, there was nothing you could do but turn them in, crying about it). you're actually still looking for a new car after that incident, honestly, currently driving a stick shift subaru.
and that's the thing: you drive now, you're no longer terrified of it. you love trains again, the panic attacks have subsided. the world is certifiably on fire, that is immediately true: and... I'm proud of you for surviving to 32.
you will rekindle friendships that you thought you'd lost due to distance; you literally live down the street from jason and the two of you spend many saturdays talking and laughing. you haven't started your weekly dnd sessions yet, that's another three years down the road. you meet terrible people, sure, and you get your heart shattered (and then something even worse), but: you also meet people that are destined to be on road trips with you, howling at the moon. you meet nick and amity house and all of them. you discover you're actually not a terrible cook once you venture away from making plain pasta, you fall in love with baking and with painting and with crafts you've never even heard of. you meet alison's daughter, who is perfect and just like her mom, you'll love her. in four years you meet your dog, he is going to save your life. you meet your nephew, and you're now close with your family. you see concerts you never thought you could afford, read books and watch movies that you didn't think you'd be alive for. you've now gone abroad, conquered your fear of planes multiple times, have been to cities you used to only recognize by name. you come out first as bisexual and then as a nonbinary lesbian (which fits more accurately), and your mom is so okay with it that she consistently tries to set you up with people from her office. remember thinking you could never escape, never really find home? you discover you can make it. you are now in a suburb of boston, still writing (of course).
oh and you have a book out, you're a proper "author" now, your childhood dream come true. you're working on your second one already, actually, and a close friend is coming over tonight for a "wine wednesday writing session" (yes you still do those, they're still lovely), but you won't meet that friend for another eight years and six months. you have met the person you are currently roommates with, and your house together is fucking amazing. plants cover every fucking inch. the two of you have only one house rule: do whatever you want, forever.
you are so fucking lucky these days it is glittering. holy shit. bookstores and beach trips and so many people that you love and that love you back that you are endlessly, furiously happy about it. you are rabidly, obnoxiously happy, the kind of happy you used to think was faked; the kind of happy that pours out of you. you have dinner parties and friends over every weekend and music out of your speakers. you once wrote a short little paragraph about hoping you'd still find the beauty in things, and i have great news: you are still in love, if not moreso, with everything. little flowers and children in snowsuits and bunnies running and sunrises and the curl of oatmilk in your coffee (oh. oat milk is gonna be a thing).
this is the year that you start taking therapy seriously, thank you for that. and yes, we're still in therapy (like i said, a lot of bad things have been happening), but we are so much better. something you find impossible: we finally stopped self-harming. we get tattoos over the worst scars in five years pretty much on the dot. we have such a fucking good relationship to our body; we finally have an excellent relationship to food and to eating. we still dance, we still make art, we are still singing. we laugh so much more now, though. we are so much more confident, a version of ourselves we never thought possible: funny, and fun-loving, and healthy. healing.
you have a long road to walk. i think you'd have asked me: is it worth it? all the scars, the indignity of trauma.
and i'm telling you: even one moment of it is worth it, my love. even one drop of the future that's waiting for you. and while i wish none of the bad shit happened: holy shit, i cannot wait for all of the good that you live through. every single sunbeam was worth it. every walk with your dog. every quiet morning. every time you watched the soft purr of the grey and lifting fog.
it is worth it, and i'm so glad you're here now. it was worth it all. i know you feel aging is one long and terrible fall. i am telling you i am waiting for you there, at the end of the tunnel. i am waiting in the light and the growing spring.
you should stay for another decade. the birds are coming back. i can't wait for you to hear them sing.
faelight yuri hehehehe (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.゚
Pride and Prejudice || Faelight
everyone should support my very talented friend ok
Pride and Prejudice || Faelight
amir khusrow (1253–1325 CE)
This is back on my dash! And listen, I love to see Amir Khusrau getting appreciation, but this translation ignores a lot. The original rhymes! And scans! And does playful things with register! And conveys a tone of affectionate banter between the two speakers, not least because it has them both addressing each other as sakhi (translated above as “girl”) in the last two lines. I think taking some liberties with line order is worth it to preserve more of the rest—and I think there’s a better translation of sakhi. And so:
He only visits once a year, I splurge big on him when he’s here, His kisses make my tastebuds tango. Who, bitch, your man? Nah, bitch, a mango.
A kitty, and a cat. 🐾
kisses for the young master…!
Reminder that spring will always come back, music will never stop being created, and there are still so many books left to read! You’re alive! You’re alive! You’re alive!
i dont know brah hashtag love yourself hashtag never ever kill yourself or something! I liek when words mean things sometimes! Stay kind to everyone, including yourself, never kill anyone, including yourself. something something. love thyself. something something. poetry and art. or something. scratches head and chuckles nervously.
@inkskinned
in between all of it, your stupid human heart. no matter where you stash it, you always find that same ache, this desire for some feeling that is beautiful, an unwinnable and unkillable goal. and where can music fit in a life, right now? people are dying. fascism is the rule of order. the cdc is a farce, the epa is dead in the water, america is a fucking shithole.
but the shower you took today was nice. the birds are coming back. someone has started a little conga line of tiny snowmen near your local bus stop; each one a little sillier than the last. without any evidence, you strongly believe they're left there by adults - something about the shape and size of the abdomen and thorax.
people are dying, still. you donate. you protest. another name in the files and still no action taken, the dow is up. a toddler is taken to a concentration camp and is "lost". your paycheck barely covers rent, groceries are obscene, your boss warns you of potential layoffs.
but your neighbor helped you shovel snow, made you a hot cocoa. you and your friends randomly decide to have a taco dinner right now because why not; you're all stone cold sober and shaking ass at 10PM on a worknight. you meet a girl and she shows you her music, her hands shaking. when you have the honor of making her laugh hard enough her blue eyes water; something about the liquification of joy spills into your palm and coats your veins in marigolds.
laundry has to be done. tax season is somehow here (but, like, fuck 'em). every day something happens that makes your breath suck out of your body in a single sharp smack, and you still need to meal plan. AI is stealing water to make advertisements for items you don't even want. you still have to stop to get gas. someone you really respected is shown to have secretly been a predator. you still need to remember to pick up pet food.
and, too; the little poet of your heart. untended to but somehow still alive in the dark: the little poet notices the new leaf on your plant, wants you to dance in the grocery aisle. the little poet covets a new book by your favorite author, wants you to make cookies, scoops the perfect round top of your peanut butter. the little poet puts down little hands over the forever-wound of you; and the little poet says: it is worth it, being here and having this. even if for just a little longer.
24 May // Reykjavik // Austurbæjarbio // Tickets 26 May // Belfast // Waterfront Hall // Tickets 27 May // Belfast // Waterfront Hall // Tickets 29 May // Warsaw // Orange Warsaw // Tickets 01 June // Lisbon // Lisboa ao Vivo // Tickets 04 June // Barcelona // Primavera Sound // Tickets
Castorice illustrated for Honkai:Star Rail🦋