frostgnawd

[frostgnawd]

✧ candling: the habit of taking stock of your life on the occasion of your birthday.

Obscure Sorrows

The first birthday he remembers is a simple one.

"My precious flower, blooming even in a storm." His mother's voice is distant now, a faded memory, a tune lost to time. If he lies to himself, he still remembers it, and considering he lies to himself quite often --

"Another year stronger." His father's voice is clearer, for some reason. His laughter, not so tinged with bitterness, or maybe that's wishful thinking. Trying, for him. Their faces are illuminated by candles, but the forms are too blurred for him to make out.

Save for those starry eyes, of course.

Something sweet and fresh, made by hands that loved him, fills his stomach. Something warm and pristine, an ensemble that suited the elegance of a fallen nation, wraps around his shoulders -- the threads that could be scavenged, anyway. He still gets them dirty on accident. He's just a boy, after all. He's still happy like this.

( His father leaves him to his duty the next year. Or is it the year after? )

The first birthday with the Ragnvindr's is much different.

Life on the surface is different. Confusing. The sun rises and sets and the seasons change and the words are not like the ones he knows because the words he knows are his father's and they ring in his ears without reprieve. Except for sometimes, if he lets himself experience Mondstadt -- and he always has had a nasty habit of getting distracted.

( He is 6, and it shouldn't feel like such a sin, but he's a Sinner, too, so what's the difference. )

Diluc distracts him. It's hard not to, not when you shine as bright as he does, not when you want so eager and earnestly to share all that you know that with those around you -- and Kaeya, specifically, always has been a good listener, follower, observer. (Younger brother.) Diluc makes him experience Mondstadt, or at least experience the Manor, and at his age they might as well be the same thing. They clamber over carts and barrels and bother poor Adelinde and Elzer and run through the grapevines without a care in the world.

( He feels like he's betraying his father. )

It's a chilly day when they are trudging under the stakes of the trellis, taking a break from horsing around the dormant vines and wires. There's a crystalfly resting against the grain, wings beating gently, a juxtaposition of life and Anemo's bright teal against the rugged bark of the vine, and Kaeya blinks.

He has been here for.. what, four months now? Five? Late July, early August, it all blends together -- but he's learned about the cycle of their (their, because he's becoming part of this) vineyard in that time. The grapes were still growing when he'd first arrived, nourished by summer sun and rain, and even into autumn, they'd gotten rounder, more plump, red color deepening like the wine they'd eventually produce. Just last month, the last of the vines had been harvested from, and now, they lie in repose against the trellis, preparing to endure Mondstadt's mild winter so they can bloom again in full in spring. More will be planted in December, which is only a few days away.

And that is when it occurs to him.

"I think it's my birthday soon." He says, out of nowhere, and seals his fate.

When Diluc wants something, he does not stop until he gets it; in this case, it means he gets the date of Kaeya's birth (tomorrow, actually, which Kaeya offers very apologetically, because the mood feels quite serious now) as well as the quickly cobbled together party for Kaeya the following morning. A single eye blinks at the cake on the table, as though he hardly comprehends what it's doing there.

Kaeya feels increasingly embarrassed with all the eyes on him in turn, the gifts that are solely his, the well wishes he receives en masse (he doesn't recall ever having so many people sing to him before, and he likes it, even if some are terribly off-key), but he doesn't feel like he wants to shrivel up and disappear, so he must be happy with this outcome.

His glance flickers over to Diluc's face -- he looks so pleased, and the candles shine all the brighter for him, like they know -- and he smiles, too. Yes, he must be happy.

( Is that alright? )

The first birthday when he is on his own again passes by in a blur.

So does the next. And the one after.

The only dates that matter are the days he actually gets a letter back, the days he spends with Klee, and the day that is Jean's own birthday.

He only feels like properly celebrating again when that god-given red gem is out of his possession, finally, and Charles somehow seems relieved that he actually shows up to the tavern that year, day-of.

His birthdays thereafter... well, they've been quite interesting, haven't they? He likes interesting things, and the mysterious traveler from afar, the excitement that dragon provided, the little tiff with the Abyss Order, I mean, how else would you describe it? His birthday comes, and, still riding that high, he celebrates without thinking twice.

But that delight, much like any other source of happiness he keeps, is held carefully by hands that never learned how to keep things safe through kindness (can he learn now, or is it too late?), palms open, because while Kaeya is one to accept gifts, he's not one to expect them to stay.

He's pleased they're still here, though, and when he finds himself clinking glasses with familiar faces in the Angel's Share, even the star in his gaze twinkles.

[frostgnawd]

January Plot Call

While I have a few threads in the works for Kaeya, I'm eager to snag a few more!

Commission Based Threads I'd be down to grab:

Teyvat: Liyue’s famed Lantern Rite is just around the corner, and tourists from all across the land have already begun flocking into the Harbor. Of course, with so many naive souls looking forward to the celebrations, less savory individuals will follow. The demand for bodyguards exceeds the abilities of both the Millelith and private parties, and so a recommendation comes for visitors to journey in groups. What better way to meet a new friend than travel together through the beautiful fields and mountains of Rex Lapis’ lands… and maaaybe beat up a few Treasure Hoarders along the way?

Kaeya and traveling go hand in hand, so this is an easy snag. Can play watchers, bar buddies, etc. He will engage in games and whatever else freely, so a lot of wiggle room here! Also down to play combat, for sure ♪ yoinked

Quanta: Though Belobog was a far cry from defrosting, expeditions out of the city are easier to execute on. One such expedition resulted in a rather… odd specimen. A strange creature, with a segmented trunk for a nose and gnarled tusks. Faint hues of pink radiate from inside, with faded pink markings decorating what would just be white and dark purple skin. Despite its massive size, there are no previous records of creatures like this on Belobog, and a signal has been put out, requesting any further information on this strangely alien beast and how it may have gotten here.

Mostly I'd just be down to put the ice man on the ice planet. Deeply out of his depth but with the attitude to take on whatever!

Non-Commission related thread ideas:

I think it would be funny (for me, personally) if Kaeya got stuck in some kinda old school ruin capturing device he accidentally triggered and had to wait for someone to get his ass out. Expect: sarcastic commentary, theatrical pleading, and general idiotic chatter while your muse does all the work and he sits there. Bonus points if your muse gets stuck too before they both manage to get out. yoinked

Always welcome to other ideas!

Thank you for reading my plot call! If you're interested, please feel free to dm or ping me in server, and I'll reply as quickly as I am able!

[frostgnawd]

December Review

Commissions: Crystallize Kaveh // Tale As New As Time (Ongoing)

Asks Obscure Sorrows // Craxis Obscure Sorrows // Enouement Obscure Sorrows // Keep Obscure Sorrows // Rasque Mistletoe // Alhaitham Mistletoe // Childe Mistletoe // Clorinde

Threads Clorinde // Pull the Trigger, Clorinde (Ongoing)

1 Talent Point Gained!

[frostgnawd]

✧ keep: an important part of your personality that others seldom see, that remains a vital part of who you are even if nobody knows it's there.

When he is 9,

The eyes of the governess stare down upon him as he's called to read aloud. His words don't trip over each other the way they had when he'd first arrived, tongue clumsy with the weight of a language he'd grasped odds and ends and no centers of, but they do stumble, stutter, cut off, when he meets her gaze. It's the weight of those eyes upon him that he is still not used to -- eyes free of the unique cross he will forever bear.

When he is 14,

Jean and Diluc take to presenting drills with practiced ease, as was part of the routine of the fearless Ordo Favonius, and while Kaeya had thought he'd have fully caught up to their bravado by now -- to put it simply, he hasn't. Today, again, his hand trembles as it grasps the hilt of his sword, and he nearly drops it when he swings, but at least he's started to learn to play off the laughter that inevitably comes his way. Work in progress, he tells himself. He promises the two dearest to him that he's just trying to ensure he'll never have to play leader -- I'm perfect otherwise, aren't I? -- and offers a jab about how he's certainly seen Diluc drop his claymore before to divert the subject.

When he is 17,

He stares at the church's entryway for a beat, then another, before sighing to himself and ultimately departing in favor of the Ordo Favonius barracks. There's a first aid kit there, though there's not a healer, but he's gleaned enough knowledge from the treatments he's received previously to know what he ought to do for the fresh burn that still sears the side of his face. Nobody's seen it just yet, thank gods, and he intends to keep it that way, ascot wadded up and pressed firmly to ensure the rain doesn't soak the injury. It might feel nice, but Kaeya doesn't want to know what kind of infections would come from the wrathful sky above. He makes sure to keep his head down in the hallways, and mentally works out what he'll explain to whatever captain he'll surely be shoved towards in the morning.

When he is 22,

He adjusts the garments carefully, gingerly, feeling both at home and foreign entirely in the ensemble he's been provided. Idyia calls him from her place on the stage, and Kaeya meanders out from the fitting room obediently to present his new ensemble. When so many eyes land on him, he can't help but fidget with the dressing, shifting side to side in a motion that almost looks nervous.

It seems, even after all these years, he's still terribly shy.

[frostgnawd]

(TW: vague mention of alcohol)

There’s more people here than he’d expected, but for Kaeya, that’s a favorable outcome. Crowds had a certain way of blending one to obscurity, or so those with less gracious desires would lead themselves to believe – playing dangerous games without noticing the star-shaped X settled on their backs. Granted, Kaeya is not here to sniff out scoundrels today. It’s strictly leisure on his end: telling stories is one of his specialties, after all. This little venture will be simple as breathing.

There’s idle chatter as the rest of the storytellers-to-be tread onto the ship, and Kaeya makes observant rounds under the guise of familiarizing himself with both the layout and the drinks that always call his name. It wasn’t his first time aboard the vessel, of course, too many trips made to Liyue to forgo at least one embarkment, but it never hurt to familiarize oneself when there was the limited space available, right? The tables have been set up in a far different order than they normally might be, less open space available at the main deck, but it’s obviously to make up for the number of entrants. Goodness, who knew there were so many burgeoning storytellers in Liyue?

( Ha. )

Eventually, he meanders over to his seat – assigned, as indicated by the host – electing to wait there for the other guests to disperse from their conversations as well. But, lucky him! There’s already a blond at the table, and if the vague system he’s managed to glean is anything to go by, isn’t that who he’ll be working with?

( Elegantly dressed, and with a Dendro Vision at his side – the casing around it appears Sumerian, if he’s not mistaken. )

“A lot of anticipation building for the main course, I think.” Comes Kaeya’s introductory remark, settling into his chair. There’s a glimpse to the tablemates that have begun to settle in, a nod at one who seems content to keep to himself (maybe he’s just shy), a cursory glance to take in the others, before his gaze lands on the one beside him again. “How nerve-wracking… I hope you came with ample material prepared-- my mind's blank.”

A beat -- and then his eye crinkles in tandem with the upwards curl of his lips.

“Kidding, of course. Kaeya. And yourself?”

@aesthetecomplex

Tales As New As Time

Commission: Crystallize ✧ Liyue’s Storytelling Competition Kaeya ✧ Kaveh

[frostgnawd]

Outing.

[frostgnawd]

🎄

tw: alc mention || @currentlyoffwork

" Now look who's all by his lonesome! "

Kaeya grins at the stranger who's settled himself in a corner, content to read his book despite the not-so-peaceful-quiet of the tavern's patio. But then Kaeya notices the headphones the stranger dons; a blink, once, twice, and he taps the side of his head, mimicking the position of the earpieces, as if to ask if he's currently being tuned out.

And then, whether he is or isn't, he points upwards -- stares, for a beat, until he's certain the other has noticed the mistletoe above them too.

There's a half-hearted shrug (mostly because one hand holds a very precious goblet of wine he cares not to spill) as if to say it can't be helped, you know.

" But don't worry-- " Kaeya promises, elbows pressing onto the table for support. " I'll hardly disturb you. "

And he actually keeps to his word -- Alhaitham doesn't even have to put down his book, because Kaeya just presses a kiss on the hand holding up whatever esoteric novel he's indulging himself in. Something on Deshret, Kaeya vaguely notes.

His eye crinkles as he peeks over the cover of the book, and when he pulls back, the rest of his expression looks just as playfully smug. As if he's actually accomplished something here.

" Thank you for sharing the moment, friend ~! " And with that, Kaeya turns on his heel, offering little more than a wave over his shoulder as he disappears into the crowd again.

[frostgnawd]

🎄

" When in Fontaine, do as the Fontainians do, yes? " That silver glance flickers to her face from where it'd been cast upwards, briefly studying the decorative sprig of mistletoe that's locked them into obligatory tradition. Chin in his hand, his seems to put some weight to this thought -- or he's just playing theatrics as usual, who knows?

" Well. " An exhale. " I can't say just anyone would be so confident as to stride up to the Champion Duelist like this, no matter which way I paint it! Would you mind terribly if I offered you what I'd do in Mond instead? "

His head tilts, lips quirking upwards in a small, pleased smile, and then he's giving her a dee bow, one arm tucked resolutely behind his back. The other takes her hand from her side, and his eye falls shut as he brings her knuckles to his lips for just a beat.

The gesture certainly fits the knight of a child's fairytale, if that's what he's trying to be.

And then he's rising again, allowing her to take back her hand.

" I hope I'm not too brazen in asking you to consider it a cultural exchange, mademoiselle. "

@huntersoath

[frostgnawd]

🎄

Trips and falls into here, Hey- ヾ(•＾▽＾•)

" Aren't you supposed to be a little more aware of your surroundings, friend? "

Kaeya's chin settles into his palm as he glances at the Harbinger, eye flashing with mischeif even in the dim light of the tavern.

" Or do you understand what, exactly, you've landed yourself in? "

He tilts his head just so -- pressing forward with curiosity, despite the barely concealed danger that seemingly comes across in his tone. And then, he releases his drink, hand slowly moving to point... upwards?

A mistletoe innocently dangles from the rafter above them. Kaeya grins, because this is, indeed, what he's been referring to the whole time.

" You know, surprising you would be a little amusing, but I'd prefer to give you a point for observation and chalk it up to boldness. Hope that's alright? " A laugh, but he hardly gives Childe a chance to respond -- instead, he takes the Harbinger's hand and brings it closer, abandoning his casual posture to lean in and press a kiss to the back of his half-gloved hand.

" Fate favors the bold, after all. So do the holidays, I suppose! "

@whaleschild

[frostgnawd]

‘TIS THE SEASON.

send 🎄for our muses to get caught under the mistletoe !!

[frostgnawd]

✧ rasque: a moment you instantly wish you could take back, feeling a pulse of dread right after crossing the point of no return.

Obscure Sorrows

It has been no more than sixty seconds from the moment Kaeya's father abandoned him, and already, the child has broken his oath. Kaeya is no hope, he's belatedly realized, he's no answer to already answerless prayers -- the only thing he is, is terrified, and he has no greater desire than that which all children do: to return home.

" Father --..? " He calls out, to no avail. The rain that begins to pelt him offers him the first cruel reality of the surface world: when you think things are bad, they will always get worse. His hand reaches up to slough the water from his face, and his cape catches, wet and weighed down already from their trek, tangling around him like a snake. He feels like he's choking. His heartbeat trembles.

His frantic steps continue on.

And that's the thing. It has been no more than sixty seconds since Kaeya's father left, but he is not like Kaeya. The steps of man whittled down by the world fall evenly on the muddy path, long legs giving way to longer strides, and keeping out of sight is instinctual because they know kind eyes rarely find them. He knows where he is, and he knows the way home, and he knows that Kaeya's trust in him is ingrained and that it is damning: why should a child care to pay attention to the roads they take when he is with his father, who has led him through the maze that is -- was -- their home, a thousand times over?

Kaeya realizes the latter too, a sickening sort of realization that encroaches as he’s running through this nightmarish landscape. Nothing is familiar to him, except some of the trees look familiar, except all the trees look the same, so is he actually making any headway? The rains have already begun to wash away any traces of footsteps he could've followed, unforgiving and angry at the one who does not belong here. It is as if everything has come together specifically in the manner is most ruinous for him, and it makes his head spin.

" Father!? " Kaeya rasps again, nearly tripping over his own feet. But he doesn't have to -- the path he weaves, between open road and forest, does it for him, the hook of a root sending him sprawling into the mud. It's shockingly cold, covering him up to his torso, but Kaeya knows this is not the worst of it.

It is as he presses himself up on his hands, too afraid to sob, that his current situation begins to register. Kaeya may not be wise when it comes to navigation, but for one with so tragic a fate, he is more than adept at realizing cruel truths:

His father is not coming back, and he has to make peace with this.

[frostgnawd]

Tied down by your own bloodline

Sorry kids, I was away to get some milk. Can’t find any though. Here’s Kaeya instead

I just wanna draw him in this expression and the rest happened🧍‍♂️

Shoutout to the peeps in my private account who encourage me to draw yaya in chains after I mentioned I’m scared of drawing it

[frostgnawd]

craxis: the unease of knowing how quickly your circumstances could change on you.

Obscure Sorrows

"Kaeya Alberich!"

The call of his full name sets him on edge after his return from Sumeru. His nerves have never been so frayed; his stomach twists into uncomfortable knots, and the weight of the reality he exists in settles heavily on already burdened shoulders.

Still, the mask he's built up for near-decades doesn't falter, thank gods, and each and every smile he gives is as pristinely carefree as the last. His facade never falters. It cannot falter. And, on top of that, he reminds himself that several of his companions in Mond have always seen him as a shady, untrustworthy sort; their scrutinization should cause him no more alarm now than it had before.

'Scrutinization.' No -- given what he's freshly learned, he ought to call it something more apt. 'Dislike' or 'disdain' or 'annoyance' -- 'irritation,' even. He's a thorn in their side, but he's still a reliable Cavalry Captain, undoubtedly doing his part to keep their windy city safe (though they hardly agree with his methodology). Those weary few 'question' him in fleeting sneers and pointed scoffs and nothing that could actually hurt him, while the rest of Mondstadt falls victim to his charm. This is how it has always been, and, if he's lucky, this is how it will continue.

He wonders what would happen, should Dainsleif actually take him up for that drink. He had no trouble playing revelations in front of the Traveler, after all!

Perhaps he should steer clear of the Angel's Share for a while.

[frostgnawd]

✧ énouement: the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, finally learning the answers to how things turned out but being unable to tell your past self.

Obscure Sorrows

There's a child that lingers in the reflection of the ice, too small and too weak and too insignificant to be anything but a shadow. Perhaps that is how he should've stayed, all wide eyes and trembling hands and fear that the world around him would swallow him whole. Sunlight is an indulgence he's rarely partaken in, and now, he cannot escape it. Now, he is center-stage, as if everything in the world depends on his very being.

He decides to try.

Every tentative step he takes is a daring venture. Every sickness he overcomes is in spite of fate reminding him where he should not be, and every challenge he takes on upon a healthier constitution he does so with an earnestness and dedication that hardly suits his sickly disposition.

He still tries. He dedicates himself to trying, guided by the hand of a man that will never be as bitter as his father was, and the smile of a woman who will never be as weary as his mother was, and the cheerful tone of a boy who will never truly understand him.

( The former are perspectives whittled away by death and time, and the latter has always been his fault entirely. )

He keeps trying. His past begins to fade, and the future opens up before him, and he's so close to bridging the difference that it leaves behind. He's so close to grasping the light -- he's so close to becoming something more than shadow.

But the boy raised in shadow does not understand how intense light can be. He's clumsy, and he's careless, a gaze suited for darkness unable to comprehend the dangers hidden in plain sight. He doesn't realize that this light he's trying to grasp has a heart of its own.

The boy in the shadows, the boy that is a shadow, has known fire within caverns, the torches that burn and illuminate the walls; he is familiar with that comfort instead, of places that are hidden but not dark, and he has mistaken that for the light that he glimpsed at the end of the tunnel, at the escape he might've found if only he'd been more conscientious of the manner in which he tread.

There's a boy in the ice, and Kaeya does not see him so often anymore -- but he does see him tonight. An illusion of the sight, of the mind, and yet somehow he hears that hesitant voice call out anyway.

"It works, doesn't it?" He asks, and Kaeya only smiles. He is taller and wiser and far more confident, and yet, he is still a shadow.

He will always be a shadow. If only he'd realized sooner.

"You try." He says, and the ice cracks, shattering into the same nothing it has been from the start. "But it's not enough."

[frostgnawd]

𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

a collection of words to describe the strangeness of being human.

✧ agnosthesia: the state of not knowing how you really feel about something.

✧ alazia: the fear that you're no longer able to change.

✧ altschmerz: a sense of weariness with the same old problems that you've always had, the same boring issues and anxieties you've been gnawing on for decades.

✧ apolytus: the moment you realize you are changing as a person, finally outgrowing your old problems like a reptile shedding its skin.

✧ bareleveling: trying to improve yourself without anyone else knowing about it, afraid that they'll think it's silly or grandiose or unnecessary, or that they'll end up calling too much attention to your efforts.

✧ bye-over: the sheepish casual vibe between two people who've shared an emotional farewell but then unexpectedly have a little extra time together.

✧ candling: the habit of taking stock of your life on the occasion of your birthday.

✧ craxis: the unease of knowing how quickly your circumstances could change on you.

✧ daguerreologue: an imaginary conversation with an old photo of yourself, in which you might offer them a word of advice, or maybe just ask them if they thought you had done justice to the life they built for you.

✧ dead reckoning: finding yourself bothered by somebody's death more than you would have expected, even if they were only an abstract presence in your life.

✧ dolonia: a state of unease prompted by people who seem to like you too much, which makes you wonder if they must have you confused with someone else.

✧ endzoned: the hollow feeling of having gotten exactly what you thought you wanted, only to learn that it didn't make you happy.

✧ énouement: the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, finally learning the answers to how things turned out but being unable to tell your past self.

✧ etterath: the feeling of emptiness after a long and arduous process is finally complete.

✧ falesia: the disquieting awareness that someone's importance to you and your importance to them may not necessarily match.

✧ feresy: the fear that your partner is changing in ways you don't understand, even though they might be changes for the better.

✧ fool's guilt: a pulse of shame you feel even though you've done nothing wrong.

✧ harmonoia: an itchy sense of dread when life feels just a hint too peaceful, with an eerie stillness that makes you want to brace for the inevitable collapse, or burn it down yourself.

✧ heartspur: an unexpected surge of emotion in response to a seemingly innocuous trigger, which feels all the more intense because you can't quite pin it down.

✧ immerensis: the maddening inability to understand the reasons why someone loves you.

✧ inerrata: a kind of mistake you wouldn't take back even if you could.

✧ insoucism: the inability to decide how much sympathy your situation really deserves, knowing that so many people have it far worse and others far better.

✧ justing: the habit of telling yourself that just one tweak could solve all of your problems, which leaves you feeling perpetually on the cusp of a better life.

✧ kairosclerosis: the moment you look around and realize that you're currently happy, which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart, and put it in context.

✧ keep: an important part of your personality that others seldom see, that remains a vital part of who you are even if nobody knows it's there.

✧ kuebiko: a state of exhaustion inspired by senseless tragedies and acts of violence, which force you to abruptly revise your expectations of what can happen in this world.

✧ lackout: the sudden awareness that you're finally over someone, noticing that the same voice that once triggered a cocktail of emotions now evokes nothing at all.

✧ leidenfreude: a sense of paradoxical relief when something bad happens to you.

✧ liberosis: the desire to care less about things.

✧ lyssamania: the irrational fear that someone you know is angry with you.

✧ mauerbauertraurigkeit: the inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends whose company you generally enjoy.

✧ mcfeely: to be inexplicably moved by predictable and well-worn sentiments, even if they're trite or obvious or being broadcast blindly to the masses.

✧ nachlophobia: the fear that your deepest connections with people are ultimately pretty shallow.

✧ nighthawk: a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night.

✧ opia: the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

✧ ozurie: the feeling of being torn between the life you want and the life you have.

✧ pâro: the feeling that everything you do is always somehow wrong.

✧ povism: the frustration of being stuck inside your own head, unable to see your face or read your body language in context, only ever guessing how you might be coming across.

✧ proluctance: the paradoxical urge to avoid doing something you've been looking forward to, stretching out the bliss of anticipation as long as you can.

✧ punt kick: a quiet jolt of recognition that it's time to become a better version of yourself, sensing that all the strategies that brought you this far are no longer working.

✧ rasque: a moment you instantly wish you could take back, feeling a pulse of dread right after crossing the point of no return.

✧ rubatosis: the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.

✧ scabulous: being proud of a certain scar on your body, even if it hurts.

✧ slipfast: the longing to disappear completely, so you can take in the world without having to take part in it.

✧ soufrise: the maddening thrill of an ambiguous flirtation, which quivers in tension halfway between platonic and romantic.

✧ tiris: the bittersweet awareness that all things must end.

✧ the whipgraft delusion: the phenomenon in which you catch your reflection in the mirror and get the sense that you're peering into the eyes of a stranger.

✧ tichloch: the anxiety of never knowing how much time you have left.

✧ tornomov: the weird hollowness of trying to imagine the distant future.

✧ yu yi: the longing to feel things intensely again.

[frostgnawd]

Happy bday!!!

[frostgnawd]

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