event time baby! i’ve decided to throw up a little bit of information for oz here.
for the time being oz isn’t going to be trusting either side, though his personality means that he’ll naturally try to help defenseless people if and when he sees them. that said, he hugely aware of how powerless he is right now. all he has going for him is his wooden scythe, his regeneration and his wit. additionally, while he isn’t the type to be afraid of monsters or villains, he isn’t enjoying the natural disasters, particularly earthquakes. they only give him bad memories, so he might be somewhat distracted.
if you’d be interested in writting / plotting something out, feel free to give this a like. otherwise, feel free to hop into my DMs & i’d be happy to talk.
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*bottles up emotions* this coping shits easy
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The golden trio
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STARTER . @restiituo.
❛ Aha, are you okay? ❜
the egg hunt had seemed popular enough, and oz could never resist a crowd. still, oz hadn’t expected an amphibian to hop out of the egg he found, nor for it to quickly leap onto the closest thing to it. or person, in this case. its escape was fast, uncaring of how he had used a stranger’s head as a landing platform to get to the ground, and oz was chortling in spite of it all. ‘ I didn’t expect that to come out... what a weird holiday. ❜ weren’t there supposed to be chocolates? or had oz completely missed the point of this game? that wouldn’t surprise him, not when he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to the explanation provided. ❛ Here, a handkerchief. You can wipe your face if you’d like. It might come in handy if any more frogs decide to pounce too. ❜
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STARTER . @hypnotictrance.
the concept of go-karting was new.
oz had never heard the term before, nor had he known what a ‘go-kart’ was before coming to this track. regardless, the idea of driving around at high speeds in a competition to see who could go the fastest instantly appealed to the boy. he had never been allowed steer a carriage back home, let alone drive a vehicle ( for fear he would crash it into something — and to be fair to those who stopped him, he probably would have ), so when told that those under a certain age or height had to go in pairs, he immediately turns to the boy next to him, eyes shining.
❛ Could I drive? Would you mind? ❜
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STARTER . @primarche.
❛ This... isn’t working. ❜
it hadn’t looked that difficult when they had demonstrated it to the group! drawing a picture in the frothy foam of the latte — simple on paper, and yet oz just wasn’t able to figure it out. what he had intended to be a cute little rabbit had turned into some type of monstrous octopus. so much so that oz quickly erased and placed his mug down in a huff. ❛ Um, can you show me how to do it again? Like you did before? I’m probably doing it wrong — I’ve never been great at delicate things like this. ❜
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baketanuki:
@abysscut
“so what? we were taken all the way out here just to plant some trees? i don’t even know where’s a good place to plant one…” probably in the soil? did it matter where?
❛ I’m not entirely sure, but I did hear someone say its good for the environment. ❜ being brought to this particular location probably meant the whole space was fair game, but spacing them out strangely would be a little — ❛ If we plant them near each other, it might make an impressive forest someday. Wanna do that? ❜
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But I was only sixteen, sixteen
At the time I thought my world would fall apart
I couldn’t find an answer, answer
For the questions that were running through my head
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boyexorcist:
ϟ » starter call! » excuse me, @abysscut—
Thinking back on it, the Mokke kind of resemble rabbits, don’t they?
The thought arises from nowhere as Kou scuffs his shoe on the tile, waiting in a long line for a simple order. The longer he waits, the antsier he gets, and the further his mind wanders away.
Maybe that’s why he’s started thinking about the Mokke. It’s been over a month since he last saw one ( chalk the recency up to Kamome and his sister, both with a Mokke in one hand or hallway at all times, ) so he doesn’t really have an excuse to start thinking about them now, but he doesn’t have much else to do in this line. He could text Mitsuba—it wouldn’t be hard, and he’s sure it’d pass the time—
but, no, no, his brain is definitely forcing him to focus on the Mokke for the next two minutes. He can’t even fathom why he’s thinking about them or how similar they look to rabbits; after all, there isn’t—
…
Okay, well, there is a stuffed rabbit head peeking out of the person’s bag in front of him, but that totally isn’t the reason why. ( It probably is. )
It doesn’t take long for his mind to connect the dots. Because Nene certainly adores the Mokke, and the Mokke look like rabbits, and there is definitely a rabbit plush right in front of him. So…
Kou taps on the person’s shoulder in front of him, adding a small wave before he starts. “Hey, if you don’t mind me asking… Where did you get that toy from?”
Is it weird to be asking this? Kou’s really hoping it isn’t. “I just have a friend that really likes them! I was thinking I’d get one for her.”
it was unexpected to be spoken to while waiting in the queue for a drink, but the noble was never one to discourage a friendly face. it was a welcome change when most people in this city were somewhat closed off, thoughts hard to discern from a mere glance and expressions dark. not that he could blame them. in this place, maintaining some degree of caution was completely understandable — not that would change oz’s own desire to speak to people his own age.
if anything, it made him all the more eager.
sure, most of his upbeat energy was a front. that wouldn’t change, not when he had always been acting in some way. but his desire to make friends was a genuine one, his insatiable urge to spend time with others a constant. especially so in a city where he was without gilbert, alice and any of the other members of pandora. break had always called him a creepy kid for being so adaptable to the most precarious of changes in his life — doing the same in this place wasn’t much of a challenge.
❛ Well, this particular rabbit was handmade by someone I know. It’d be pretty hard to get an exact replica when she only ever made two of them, I’m afraid. ❜ even if lacie was in this city, as strange as that still was to acknowledge, oz doubted she’d really enter the business of making rabbit plushies on demand.
❛ But, I did happen to see a toy store with a couple of cute ones in the display a few days ago. If you’d like, I can show you the way there? You might find one you think she’d like. ❜ he stops there, however, turning his head to the gentleman behind the counter who handed him a drink with a smile. that’s right — they were still in a cafe. he had almost forgotten, being as caught up as he was. ❛ After you get what you came here for, that is. I didn’t mean to rush. ❜
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mysterthree:
“Why do you have something of your friend’s if she’s not here!?”
Mitsuba hadn’t gotten anything related to anyone of his friends; in fact, he’d been here for days before any of them had even showed up, and there had been a chance that some of them might not have ever shown up to begin with. The thought of some kid having some random thing that should’ve belonged to a friend–
–well, at the time, he hadn’t even really… even after everything they’d been through, Mitsuba would have still doubted that any of them were really his friends, right? Not… not to that great of an extent, anyway. If anyone had been given any important items of theirs, it probably wouldn’t have been him, so… maybe this boy wasn’t lying?
(Or, well… nah.)
“Don’tcha think that’s weird to be parading it around like you own it if it’s your ‘friend’s’!? Shouldn’t you be keeping it safe at home? Weirdo! Keeping it with you! Pervert!–”
… r-report him to the…
“… huh?”
Wh-why was he looking at Mitsuba like that? What was that smile for?
“Th-there’s nothing weird about looking in windows! It’s a store! I-I was window shopping! What’re you gonna tell the police, ‘oh, that cute little boy wasn’t doing anything wrong but he was looking at goods and merchandise from outside and I think that’s prettttyyy creepy!’ Go to Hell!”
“Uwahh…”
He hadn’t even been window shopping, of course, but that was a much nicer excuse than ‘oh, was just reminiscing about mirrors, you know’. Boy, Mitsuba didn’t like this kid, though! He didn’t like him at all! The sooner he could get out of here the better, but that creepy smile didn’t exactly have him wanting to risk budging from where he stood. Maybe if he, um, didn’t move at all, he wouldn’t get eaten up or whatever this kid was planning to do?
Normal kids absolutely didn’t smile like that.
oz’s glare becomes less mocking and more so frustrated, lips pressing together to keep himself from actually snapping at the boy as his arms fold. deep breaths, vessalius, deep breaths. it wasn’t as if this boy would understand the importance alice held to him, and therefore the importance of anything alice held dear. it helped that this particular rabbit held a huge deal of significance to him as well, even if he no longer had any genuine connection to it beyond memories. no, the rabbit itself was empty — his soul was in this body now, and the chances of returning to the plush once more were slim at best. either way, there was no point in trying to explain it. it would be nothing more than a waste of breath.
wait, was he - why did this kid look like he was about to cry?
the anger in oz’s own expression dissipates to one of confusion, then quickly to realization. in seconds of being somewhat threatened, the kid had frozen up and taken on an expression akin to a fearful bunny ( and this was coming from the b. rabbit himself ). if anything, his change in body language reminded oz of a younger gilbert — they were similar in a lot of ways, the stranger’s resounding self-confidence in his appearance aside ( not that oz could fault that when he himself had been known to brag on occasion as well ).
❛ ... You’re not very good at talking to people, are you? ❜ he says bluntly, but oz truthfully doesn’t know another way to breach the subject. to crumble so meekly in the face of what had been an otherwise terrible ( and obviously false ) threat — oz couldn’t muster the motivation to prod further at his cowardice. ❛ You shouldn’t immediately snap at someone who annoys you, as easy as that is, unless you want to start trouble like this. Otherwise, someday you might annoy someone whose miles more dangerous than me. That is to say, an actual weirdo. ❜ to quote the boy’s words against him.
❛ Or did you really want to buy a hammer? This shop is a hardware store, you know. ❜
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hopeled:
it really was childish.
people so easily judged others for what they saw, making assumptions and acting on them without a care if it was true or not. behaving like idiots all because they found joy in making fun of someone and seeing them upset. she really couldn’t stand to see such things nor could she just stand idly by as a passive witness. for all their supposed bravado and ‘badass’ attitude, they really were nothing more than all bark and no bite to be so easily chased off.
Ritsuka kneels down, picking up a rabbit plush that had been scattered in the almost confrontation she readily disturbed. fingers gently dust off any dirt that may have gotten on it, inspecting it to make sure there were no rips or tears. satisfied at seeing it fine, she turns on her heels, approaching the boy on the ground, back against the wall. he had been the unfortunate target of the punks but…he looked to be okay. no visible cuts or scrapes, no blood or bruises. that was good.
“ Here.” a gentle smile, hand extending out for him to grab to help him up, the plush clutched in her other arm. “ Are you okay? “
@abysscut – starter call.
❛ I’m alright. Thank you for your help. ❜
there was some bruising beneath his shirt, but he could already feel his regenerative powers at work. it might not be as fast as it had once been, and it definitely couldn’t repair his body to the level it used to be capable of, but being smacked around a little was nothing of concern. nothing to worry about, nor to make others worry about on his behalf either ( finding a kind soul in a city of strangers was a nice change of pace all the same ). so, with a smile, he takes the hand offered to him. once standing, he brushes off the leg of his pants and huffs, expression akin to a pout.
❛ Some people have no manners! I’m glad nothing was torn, at least. ❜ it wasn’t as if oz didn’t have the smarts to avoid a confrontation. rather, he was known to instigate irritation in others — or he had once upon a time, back when he had been somewhat innocent to the reality of his own history — and promptly shut them up with a few choice words. people were easily manipulated, and even easier still was frightening them by prodding at the weak points in their will ( inflated egos were easy to burst ).
in this city, however, he was more hesitant to bite back; an unconscious fear of hurting others now that he knew what he was capable of? normal humans didn’t deserve that sort of pain, not even the judgemental fools. ❛ I hope this didn’t inconvenience you at all. I’m sure you have better things to be doing with your day, miss. ❜ he says, softer this time.
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SHAKESPEARE AESTHETICS.
𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨 &. 𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐭. suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.
𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐥𝐞𝐭. speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn, mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.
𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.
𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐡. the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia. headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.
𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall, hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. stuff getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.
𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫. cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.
𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭’𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦. the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.
TAGGED BY: i am but a thief.
TAGGING: if you’re reading this consider yourself tagged hoho
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soviireign:
Children fending for themselves was not an unfamiliar sight to the Eternal, and that was an unfortunate fact in itself. They always have that hardened look in their eyes, just a bit sharper beyond their years. This kid’s good at hiding it, but Siete could see it just peeking through. You just need to know where to look. It’s why he knew off the bat he won’t be looking for any parents soon – chances are he wouldn’t find any looking.
Were this be his world Siete would immediately direct the kid to Stardust Town, but things weren’t as convenient here. Still, he couldn’t just find himself to leave this alone. Not having the strength worthy of his title was no excuse to leave things as they are, after all. He kneeled down, looking as friendly as he could, in order to see the other blonde at an equal eye level.
“That’s a nice stuffed rabbit.” It wasn’t the most extravagant of stitchwork, but it look well-kept regardless. “Does it have a name?”
@abysscut / starter call!
❛ We have the same name, actually. It’s Oz. ❜
at this point, oz was not surprised that the small rabbit was catching the eyes of others. it was unusual for a boy his age to be seen carrying one around, he was sure. most children in their mid-teens would have abandoned such childish indulgences for the sake of appearing more mature, left behind their plush companions to move on to more ‘adult’ activities. even so, oz did not want to leave behind the stuffed toy, even if it did bring more attention than he would have liked. it was a part of him once, and now that he had been reunited with his old body, it felt strange to leave it behind. it would be safer with him anyway. ❛ He belongs to... my friend. But, well, it doesn’t look like she’s here. In this city, that is. ❜ probably for the better. he wouldn’t want alice to be trapped in such a place.
❛ I’m holding on to it, just in case. She’d get mad at me if he got damaged. ❜ oz wouldn’t exactly feel too happy about his old body getting hurt either, even if the plush no longer held any form of consciousness within it.
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petalbursting:
❛ Heh — it’s okay ! Never a bad time to show her off… And you’re totally right to be amazed, ❜ RUBY replies with mirrored enthusiasm — in fact, she might be even more enthusiastic than he is. Despite Crescent Rose’s weight, he handles it pretty well… So naturally, she wasn’t surprised to learn they share a weapon. She was, however, totally ecstatic.
❛ I know that feeling — Crescent Rose was all wooden and stuff when I first got here. But she got better ! So go easy on yours, it’s probably trying its best… I still wouldn’t mind getting to see it ! ❜ It’s a natural matter of pride, after all, a show-and-tell for champs ! She twirls her weapon several times length-wise before sliding it into place on her back; honestly she’s not sure how she’ll cope when she gets Crescent Rose’s gun mode back — it’s done wonders for her posture to lug a giant scythe around. But more importantly —
❛ Oh— ! Heh, forgot to introduce myself too ! Ruby Rose. … Oh, and… Not to braaag, but… I could totally take a look at your weapon for you whenever it’s back to normal ! I helped make mine, after all — and gave some suggestions for upgrades last month. … They didn’t go with any of ‘em — but now I have ideas ! ❜
❛ Sure! You seem way better at weapon maintenance than I am. The only thing I’m good for is swinging one around - I’d probably be smarter not to tinker with it too much, whenever I do get it back. I’d probably endanger people if I fooled around with tools. ❜ it wouldn’t hurt to let the girl - ruby, he notes, now that he knows her name - try. especially if she was experienced. what she would make of a chain’s weapon - what she would be able to discover - oz was rather interested to see. even if it would take some time before he regained his scythe ( he could always listen to her speak more of her own in the meantime ).
but while still on the topic of her weapon, he gestures towards it, intrigued at one of the things she had said moments prior. ❛ You gave your scythe a name. Is there a story behind it? ❜ crescent rose, she had said. they shared the same last name, weapon and wielder. a coincidence, or something more significant? oz couldn’t help the curiosity that overcame him. his smile remained bright as he inquired further. ❛ I know people are in the habit of naming weapons, but I’ve never done it myself. It’s always made me wonder how exactly they go about it. ❜ a ceremonial blade or two, involved in formal ceremonies of nobility and bestowed their names many years before they were placed in his hands, were the only named weapons he had personally wielded. his own scythe was nameless, simply an extension of himself.
❛ Oh, but if it’s too personal, don’t worry about answering me. I don’t mean to pry. ❜
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colchiste:
❛ Yes — speed and accuracy are key here. Too much speed and the dish will fail; too little accuracy and it won’t cook properly. This device is picky, though, I think — it only registers this… wand part of the time. ❜
SHE isn’t sure why this boy is watching, but she’s far too invested in making the dish to shoo him away. TAP-TAP-TAP — each progressive hit of the stylus against the handheld’s screen grows louder in tandem with her intensity. Did this sauce take so long to simmer in the last round, or does it merely feel longer because there’s a second pair of eyes ?
❛ As for why a rat is working in a restaurant… Your guess is as good as mine. ❜
@abysscut ——————— S.C.
❛ Huh... I see. ❜
how it had come to this, his own head peeking over the stranger’s shoulder as she played a game, oz was not sure. still, it was rather captivating to watch her tap-tap-tap on the screen of the device, his own emerald gaze following the rat as it scurried from one part of the kitchen to the other. what a talented fellow. if he could ever see gilbert again, maybe oz would tell him about this strange game. but in watching her for several minutes, the woman’s expression turning from irritated to genuinely frustrated during certain parts of this ‘level’, as she had called it, a question came to the boy that he had to ask. ❛ Is it even any fun? ❜
❛ You said it doesn’t register your movements half the time, so it seems more stressful than anything else. Do you gain something from winning this game? ❜
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if you don’t believe then there’s nothing for you to be afraid of, right?
❛ … I suppose. ❜
as if prompted by her words, he recalls a memory, a time spent in the company of gilbert and ada. they had been sharing stories, whispering among themselves about the legendary ‘abyss’ - a place where only the most heinous and terrible of condemned criminals would be sent. a pit so large none could ever escape it, or so the tale went. ‘nothing more than a scary story’, he had told his quivering sister when her tears had begun to fall, nothing to be truly afraid of. or so the young noble had believed.
oz supposed he had forgotten a great many things to alleviate his fears. in his desire to escape the perpetual fear - the accursed guilt that consumed him - he had forgotten sablier, he had forgotten jack, he had forgotten alice. and so he had lived peacefully, without any knowledge of his sin. but even so —
❛ — still, it’s always better to believe in something. Or in someone. A life without that sort of faith would be a lonely one, even if you were without fear. ❜
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