#goregacha

[annelidist]

@goregacha happy birthday <3! 

commissions | twitter

[kitschd]

more intense vibes | accepting

@goregacha​​ says:  “ get up. ”

It was true what they said about your life flashing before your eyes before you die.  The last thing David heard before he flatlined was the ear piercing bang of Adam Smasher’s gun right to his head.  He expected to be asleep forever, however, a voice called out him.  Didn’t sound familiar.  His eyes slowly opened. Was he dead?  Couldn’t be if someone was talking to him right now.

He tried moving, but was still incredibly weak.  “Did...did Lucy ever make it to the moon?”, he asked still in his groggy state.   

[stabyouth]

𓊔﹒𓌹 𓂃 𓌺   𝙸𝙽 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴, both completely unexpected and thoroughly bizarre (as is customary), frank’s vocabulary briefly consists only of curses onto which he occasionally tacks a proper noun. “𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬, 𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐢!” can be heard amongst the babble. his heart is beating a mile a minute. she’s managed to let herself into the resort, a location he hadn’t even thought most people their age knew existed, but ... he shouldn’t be surprised at this point. she’s a menace with a penchant for showing up exactly where she doesn’t belong, but he can’t bring himself to hold it against her. 

to him nooni is not only a girl 〈 an admittedly pretty girl, with blonde hair highlighted delicately with a cotton-candy hue / eyes that instil something briefly & unintentionally haunting within the observer, eyes which he can never quite remember the exact colour of until he once again sees her with his own, a child’s lack of object permanence. all frank recalls is a sudden flash of feeling whilst peering into them, those big bright mirrors– a feeling  poignant & eerie 〉, but an omen. omens don’t control when or where they appear; they simply do as is required of them. it’s freezing enough for the frost to brutally assault his cheeks, and clouds of white steam come streaming from his mouth in as thick a cloud as it would were he smoking. he pops his collar, drawing it closer to his pink-tinged nose.  “𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭... 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬. 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧?”     🔪  @goregacha​ ❤︎’d

[extested]

@goregacha   ♡'d   for   a   lyric   starter.

❝   𝐂𝐀𝐍   𝐘𝐎𝐔   𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋   𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓   i'm   dead   inside   ?   .   .   .   if   you   only   knew.   ❞

[reapersman]

HIIIIIIIII-YA, OLD MAN!! :DDDD

HELLO . . . YOUNG GIRL.

[halfhim]

  —    goregacha   :   “  how do i look?  ”

          his smile stitched  — the soft rasp of his voice like phantom smoke pouring through his sharp teeth.   “   like a little monster.   “   he croons a mocking mother’s scorn.   “   with a face not even a mommy could love.   “   his derision doesn’t need nor want reason. it needs  — wants  — torment the same way a rabid beast craves blood. with fangs and foaming insanity. it’s the rhythm pumping through his wrist. it’s chaotic and pounds with guttural bass,   like some shit - sweat nightclub. the flickering street lamp above their head,   an imitation strobe light. it has his face alternating between ashy shadows or sickly pallor on the unblemished bits of his cheeks. 

[gamewon]

“  run away with me!!! ” she's only HALF-joking

meme. accepting. @goregacha

        It’s one of those nights where she’s managed to drag him out, because really, he only ever is willing to go out when it’s nighttime. Less people around to see him. Less crowds. He’s more comfortable that way, but not by much. It’s generally okay, though, if she’s there. Makes him feel a lot safer, and people are usually more focused on her than on him. She’s bright and vibrant, and he really isn’t.

        They’ve snuck onto the roof of the boba tea shop again. The summer night air is warm and comfortable, but he doesn’t even consider shedding the hoodie. He knows the second he takes it off he’ll just be chilly again—curse of being too small and having almost no body fat. Always cold. He has one knee pulled up to his chest and his other leg curled under him, and his eyes are on the cup in his hands while hers are on the sky. He uses the straw to poke at a tapioca pearl.

        “I can’t do that, Nooni,” Near replies simply. He knows it’s partially a joke, but he also knows that if he ever gave the word she would take him away from here. It’s a nice thought, but also never a real temptation of his. He’s fine with where he is, with what he does. No need to run away when she can just stay with him like she always does. Mostly to himself, he murmurs, “What would the world think if L just disappeared, I wonder.”

        No successor picked out yet, even. Roger has reached out to him about it. Lidner and Rester have both made comments. He’s older now than the first L was when he chose Near and Mello. It’s about time. Apparently the kids still at Wammy’s House really want to talk to him.

        It’s difficult.

        Life isn’t a movie where he can just drop everything and run away. Near was never destined for that sort of life, anyway. Not that he really believes in destiny or fate or, whatever.

        But it’s okay if she stays here. But there will always be some lingering fear that one day she’ll just disappear again, like she did when they were kids. Part of him has resigned himself to that possibility. No one can ever really stay forever.

        “Maybe I’m just being a stick in the mud.”

[gamewon]

missin her... (by noah!)