The legacies people leave behind in you.
My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.
I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.
I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.
I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.
I learned to love books because my father loved them first.
How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.
"suguru, i've finally caught up with you."
About this and this: I like mocking George R R Martin's "realism" as much as the next ecology nerd/feminist who isn't thrilled about rape in fiction being written in maybe-tittilating ways/whatever, but, specifically in the context of writing about wars that are morally ambiguous and do not have straightforward good vs evil sides, yeah, that's more realistic than orcs.
Yes, there are individual people who are pretty spectacularly awful, and movements etc that are overall pretty awful, but there are not entire societies or movements or alliances or any large groups of people that are just evil and morally OK to kill down to the last person. Not how things work.
I missed most of the Iraq war due to being a baby, but every time I read about it I start wondering why we aren’t all talking about it all of the time
Brigitte Bardot, 1957
his dimples are driving me insane
something something father son
Gojo x Deadpool 😫😫😫
Art by: akutawah