I Have This Saved As You KNOW He Would.png

walking away from the cambrian explosion and making sure not to look back at it so its all badass

hfggvghjccgjghggfhvhhhhjhjfh goodnight, gorgeous. the tortures resume bright and early tomorrow

should I rejoice in the fact that now I don't have to suffer(see: enjoy)these song revelations alone or be scared of (look forward to) the many more that are surely to come now that you have a tumblr

getonanago enjoyers today i offer you a case of "any song can be about your favs if you try hard enough" :)

tv girl - the blonde!

starting off with satosugu as teenagers, "whisper filthy things into their ears" standing as the distinct sense of youth, how everything was new and fun and felt like it would last forever you know? all sneaky kisses and missions together and thinking themselves untouchable by others.

and then it immediately melts into the phase AFTER getou left, tying into gojo "standing out in the rain" i.e. the initial conviction that getou wouldn't do something like this, wouldn't leave him alone, followed by "keep it up very long just to prove somebody wrong" i.e. gojo continuing his duties desperately despite not particularly caring for strangers' lives himself, just to prove to getou and himself that there is meaning here.

"sang a lonesome song" because it didn't really end at getou did it? nanami left too. and god knows gojo would be the type to distance himself from shoko etc as well at that time, because what's the point if everyone will leave anyway? but then you fast forward some more and suddenly gojo's an adult and nanami's back and then the song gets almost,, softer? in a way? the whole "ra-pa-pa-pa" part. like encouraging gojo to open up once more, to show that maybe his heart has enough space for two, maybe it always did.

or something. ya know.

i guess its hurt your pussy hour

I decided to look around on spotify and found this beauty

how could you add these groundbreaking lines to this and then leave them in the tags

Have you heard of the red string of fate?

There is this idea that the string, it connects you to your destined lover. Your soulmate. I find it hard to believe. Nor do I wish to believe it. I much prefer my hands. They hold on to people I want in my life, refusing to let go.

They grab my mother's shirt so I don't get lost in a crowd. They fit easily into my friend's hand, slick with sweat and intertwining with her fingers. They reach for my sister, dwarfing her little palm in their own. They hold onto the balcony railing as I watch people pass by, they carry fragile flowers in their palms with utmost care, they push aside the curtains in my home to let sunlight in, they hold books and crinkle the pages as I read an embarrassing scene, they cradle the faces of people I love. I could go on and on.

I think, what I mean to say is, I put much more trust in the strength of my desperate hands than in a string that may break if I tug at it too hard.

Loving things too much should not be a curse, after all.