#red string of fate theory

[r0bzombixx]

— smoke signals, phoebe bridgers

[zelpharofficial]

Red String of Fate

[defnotriri]

"the man who can't be moved"

|| PRO!Katsuki B. x reader

UNEDITED / UNREVISED

pt. 1

A couple days passed before you got a reply back from the number. You were sitting alone in a cafe with your drink. You were waiting for a friend but he got on his train a bit late.

You thought maybe the number was disabled. Or maybe he still has it on a different phone that he doesn't use. No reply meant it just wasn't meant to be. If you reached out in his dms, that would be doing too much.

You took a sip of your coffee and suddenly your phone buzzed. You were shocked when you saw the number.

You sighed, I guess it really was your destiny. Then suddenly a broad figure sat at the empty table near you. He was wearing a jacket and had his hood on which was weird. You also noticed he had one of your favorite pastries.

"Can I use that napkin?" The man asked pointing at your unused napkin. You tell him of course and hand it to him. Then you pointed at his pastry.

"that use to be my favorite while I was dating this guy." You say and smile at the memories. Whenever you guys would go out, Katsuki would always get you one of your favorite things.

"really? what happened to him" The hooded figured asked.

"he finally achieved his dream, I'm so proud of him." You let out a low chuckle.

"and you're just watching from the sidelines?"

"well its all I can do, we're just not to meant to be." You shrug at the question. You wonder if you're a stalker.

"He's engaged but I don't know- I texted his old number. I told myself if he didn't reply or if someone else did, it wasn't meant to be." You sigh taking another sip.

"Wow. what a way to home wreck." The guy chuckled and you noticed he didn't even touch his food yet. You were about to say something when he gave you your tissue back.

You were going to give it back saying you didn't want his used napkin when you saw writing on it. You straightened it a bit to see what it was. It was a bunch of numbers. Was he just talking to you because he was interested?

"Im so sorry, sir. You're really nice but I'm not interested-" You turn your head to look at him and you finally see his face. Bright ruby red eyes staring back at you with blonde peeking from his hood.

"oh sorry, must've got the wrong impression." His face doesn't react. He carries the same yearning face while talking. Your stomach churns and you're unsure of what to do.

"it's arranged, by the way." He breaks the silence and you hear a platter being placed on your table. He's giving you your favorite treat once again.

"what?" You snap out your trance.

"we're only engaged for our families. The hag wanted me to get married and wouldn't stop nagging me. Round face was one of the only people I barely tolerate" He speaks and suddenly your hands are sweating and your throat is dry. The words are stripped from your mouth.

"why'd you leave when I needed you the most." He finally gets to ask the big question after years of wondering.

"I- um.. I guess I just realized I was too weak willed to become a hero." You played with your fingers and looked anywhere but his face. Yet you could still feel those red eyes burning through you.

"I didn't care if you became a hero or not. I just wanted you."

"I don't know- I just thought I was holding you back, Katsuki."

"You were the only thing pushing me forward." He said with more of a begging tone. Like he was desperate for something. Like he was desperate for you. You did the only thing you could imagine and you hugged him.

He hugged you back, a hand around your hip and one behind your head. His grip was tight and he kissed your head. You could feel him shaking, too scared to let go. Worried if he did you would leave him again.

You thought your destiny would be away from each other but no matter what, you two will always find your way back to each other. Like a string connecting you two together.

TAGLIST: @rednicotine @delshmel @rory-52 @itsjustapumpkin @cumsluut @d4rlinxs @ilovesoupp @idontwannatalkrn1 @katsuisbaby @bri-licious08 @raelikesdinosaurs @dragonictales

hi so sorry if I got ur tag wrong or smth im to lazy to double check them or if the link is wrong lol

[kroz-zivot-srcem]

[heylorrain]

“ His eyes held a touch of sadness and hope, and her hair was the shade of strawberry lemonade in the sun.”

[sapphoherselz]

hi do you ever wonder if wyamack EVER met the Foxes before their time? I'm talking any age, any time in their lives, especially the ones where they really needed a paternal figure to help them out or get them out of trouble?

like he goes grocery shopping and sees this quiet kid trying to stuff as much food in his pockets wo being noticed? but David of course does and the kid is already taking a step back, looking at him with pure terror in his eyes as if he's seeing just another person that can hurt him but of course that doesn't happen. what does happen is that david offers to pay for anything the kid wants and then starts asking question like that's one nasty bruise you got there, want to tell me what happened? and then out of nowhere the boy's mother appears and starts tugging the kid away in a not very gentle manner and David tries to interfere but they're hurriedly walking away before he can get the words out of his mouth (he has to physically stop himself from going after them because that would just frighten the kid more)(he goes back to the same grocery store at the same hour for an entire month, hoping to find this short kid hiding somewhere and maybe tell his mother exactly where she can put her hands)

or maybe he's walking home late at night and sees this kid sitting on the sidewalk and he approaches cause shouldn't you be at home? wouldn't your parents worry? do you want to give them a call, you could use my phone but the kid tenses so much that David takes several steps back and starts talking about everything under the blue sky trying to get him to calm down. when that eventually happens, they end up sitting (with some comfortable distance) next to the other in utter silence, until the kid goes "I don't want to go home" and David is like. okay. we can stay here for as long as you'd like. the night is young and I have snacks in my pockets. did I tell you already that I'm an exy coach? what do you mean you don't know what exy is- no I'm not making that up, it's a job and I have it! they even pay me for it! (he ends up falling asleep in a sitting position and wakes up alone, the marble next to him having long gone cold) (he doesn't even remember if he had managed to make the kid smile or if his eyes were playing tricks on him) (if he starts walking home later than usual just to sit on a lonely sidewalk for hours then it's his business and no one else's)(and yes he does bring with him all of the snacks he thinks the kid would like) (no he didn't spend minutes choosing them)

like something something the red string theory something something everyone is always connected something something

[nabihahahahahaha]

"An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle. But it will never break."

[ilovelovewithallmyheart]

The red string of fate.

It tied around your finger and led you to where your soulmate was. Regardless of who you were, everyone had one.

The strings were indicative of what the relationship would be like if the soulmates ever met.

For some, it was frayed and coming apart. For a minority, it was tangled with knots. For the majority, it was thin and barely even there.

But for God’s chosen select spirits, it was smooth and thick, gleaming with a glassy sheen and basically indestructible.

And, Gojo added with distaste as he stared at his ring finger, tied in a little neat bow.

It was no secret that Gojo was God’s favourite. His looks, his inherited curse technique…but having a perfect soulmate story? Really?

Due to his six eyes, he could see the string all the time. He wasn’t like other people, who could make it appear and disappear as they pleased. It was always there. Eating? It was there. Sleeping? It was there.

It could filter through walls and lead you to the direction your soulmate was, the other end of the string being tied to your soulmate’s hands. It could stretch and-

“ow!” Y/n gasped.

-if you tried to cut it, it would send a searing pain to both parties’ hearts.

“He tried to cut it again?” Y/n’s best friend Ichigo sighed. Her head rested on her left hand while her right hand held a giant mug of coffee. “Mhm,” Y/n responded. She was browsing the web for job opportunities at the local cafe. “Ooh! There’s this job offer at a nearby bank.” Y/n turned her laptop so Ichigo could see. Y/n was used to the pain now. At least once a month her soulmate tried to cut their string, to no avail. Y/n learned to be indifferent to this. She could still find love - not everyone ends up with their soulmate.

“Hey, What’s that?” Ichigo pointed a carefully manicured finger at a job proposal on the side of the screen. “Holy crap! It says Jujutsu tech!” 

“NO!” Y/n gasped, disbelief written across her face. She snatched the laptop out of Ichigo’s hands and her eyes traced back and forth the words of the job advertisement.

*Manager Job applications open* Right next to the advertisement was a funny little badge.

And Y/n knew exactly what that badge meant.

This was a job application for Jujutsu Sorcerors.

Unfortunately for Y/n, not everyone with cursed energy was cut out to be a Jujutsu sorceror. But Y/n had experience in corporate workplaces. She would definitely snag this job. 

She would 100% be a manager.

“Hopefully I’m not the manager of some bratty kids.” Y/n sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Wouldn’t it be worse if you were the manager for some snotty Special Grade?”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “God, that would be so terrible. Imagine being at the beck and call of a stuck up prick!”

Little did Y/n know, she wouldn’t have to imagine it for long.

(part 2 here)

[hollowmem]

Two soumlates

GN!Reader x Johhny "Soap" MacTavish x John Price

I decided to take on a 2 week challange that may or may not extent to a month, we will see. I will be posting everyday, a new story with a prompt I will get for that day

Day 10: Red string of fate but with two soulmates instead of 1

The briefing room smelled faintly of coffee and gun oil. They stood at attention just inside the doorway, shoulders squared, heart hammering hard enough that they were sure it could be heard. The gloves on their hands felt too tight and their uniform sleeves too stiff.

They had been through hell to get here. Now, they were standing in front of the most legendary unit in the military — Task Force 141.

Captain John Price leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a critical but not unkind look in his sharp eyes. Beside him, Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish grinned wide enough almost to look mischievous, but there was a spark of curiosity there too.

"New blood?" Soap asked, tilting his head.

"New operator," Price corrected, voice low and steady. He turned his gaze on them, assessing — not harsh, but careful. Measuring.

"They’ve been assigned to us. Impressive record." He nodded once, a slight sign of approval. "We’ll expect nothing less here."

They nodded, keeping their expression neutral, professional. "Understood, sir."

Price stood, offering his hand — and for a moment, they froze. Gloves.

They always wore them. It had become a habit long before today — before they stopped believing in the old stories about fate, red strings, soulmates. Myths, they thought. Fairy tales for people who couldn’t accept being alone.

They shook his hand firmly, relieved that he didn’t seem to notice the way their fingers tensed. Soap stepped forward next, slapping a hand on their shoulder with a friendly grin.

"Welcome to the madhouse," he joked. "Hope you’re ready."

They managed a small smile. "I’ll manage."

Price smirked slightly at that as if he liked the answer.

"Good. You’re dismissed for now. Gear up — we move out at 0600." As they turned to leave, they caught a brief glimpse of Soap tugging off one of his gloves absentmindedly, fingers flexing. They quickly looked away, heart squeezing tight in their chest for reasons they didn’t want to name.

No use looking for strings. No point in hoping for things that weren’t real.

They shoved their hands deeper into their pockets and kept walking.

The first mission had been a blur of gunfire and flashing lights, the usual chaos of a field operation.

Task Force 141 moved like clockwork, their teamwork so fluid that it almost felt rehearsed. But, for all the precision and experience of the team, nothing could have prepared them for the unexpected. Nothing could have prepared them for what would happen when the mission went sideways.

They had been sweeping through a warehouse on the outskirts of a hostile city, clearing rooms and securing intel. Soap, as always, was the first to kick the door open, charging forward with his usual bravado.

But in the chaos of clearing the room, Soap's foot slipped just slightly — a moment of carelessness, an instinctual lunge — and in that instant, everything shifted. They barely had time to react.

One of the enemy combatants, a figure hidden in the shadows, fired a shot. The bullet went through them — enough to send them crashing to the ground, vision blurring as their body hit the cold concrete floor.

Pain shot through them as they gasped for air, eyes wide in panic. Soap’s voice cut through the haze.

"Shit! Stay with me, Y/n!" He was at their side instantly, his hands already working to stop the bleeding, but the world around them was spinning.

Price’s voice came through the comms, steady, commanding. "Soap, get them out of there. Now."

Soap’s eyes were frantic, his hands moving in a blur as he carefully helped them onto their feet, supporting their weight as they staggered. But then, in an act of panic, his gloved hand brushed against theirs — the contact was brief, barely even noticed, but to Soap, it felt… different.

A pull. Something subtle, yet undeniable. He glanced towards their pinkie, where the red string should be but he stopped himself.

But there was no time.

The battle raged around them, the sound of gunfire still echoing through the building as they were moved to safety. Soap didn’t care about the string right now. He just cared about them. About getting them back to base, where they could be fixed.

The next few hours were a blur of pain and exhaustion. The medbay was sterile and quiet, the hum of machines providing a cold backdrop to the aftermath of the mission.

Soap sat at their bedside, hands restless as he watched them, waiting. His own thoughts were a mess, something gnawing at the back of his mind.

Price had been the one to give the orders to rush them to safety, but now, even Price couldn’t mask the concern etched in his expression. He stood by the door, silent and observant as Soap fidgeted with his gloves.

The air was thick with the unsaid.

Finally, Soap couldn’t hold back anymore. He stood, pacing for a moment, before turning to Price, his voice low but urgent.

“Price,” Soap started, his voice tight, “I—I think there’s something… I think they’re my soulmate.”

Price turned to him sharply, eyebrow raised.

Soap's words came out in a rush, the frustration and confusion clear in his tone. “I— I felt something earlier. When I helped them up after the hit. A pull. A tug. I don’t know what it was, but it didn’t feel like an accident, Price.”

Price’s expression was unreadable. He watched Soap carefully, then glanced back to the Y/n, who was still unconscious on the bed. He let out a breath, his gaze flicking back to Soap. “Think you might be right, son. You’re not the only one who noticed something.”

Soap froze, confusion clouding his features. “What do you mean?” Price didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he nodded towards the bed. “Wait until they’re awake. You’re not the only one here feeling something odd.”

After a while, their eyes flickered open slowly, the sterile white lights blinding at first. The pain in their chest was still there, still persistent. Soap was at their bedside instantly, his hands restless as he watched them, waiting. His voice was gentle.

"Hey, easy there," he murmured, his tone low and concerned. "You're alright. You're safe."

They blinked, the world coming into focus as Soap’s face came into view.

"What… what happened?" They asked weakly, trying to sit up but wincing in pain.

"You got hit," Soap replied, the worry in his eyes almost palpable. "But don’t worry. You’re gonna be fine. Just take it easy."

As they looked around, their eyes caught Price standing at the door, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. There was something in his gaze — something unreadable.

"How are you feeling?" Price asked, his voice even but laced with something else. Was it concern? Something more? They swallowed, trying to push through the fog in their mind. "I’m okay," they muttered. "Just… just a little dizzy."

A long silence passed before Soap stepped forward, his voice low, his hand moving to the side of their bed. "Listen, I have to ask something," Soap said, trying to steady his nerves. "Can you… can you see the string?"

They blinked, confused. "What?"

Soap’s voice was almost quiet as he asked, "Can you see the red string on my pinkie?"

They furrowed their brows in confusion, the question strange in the moment. But then Soap moved his hand up where his string was. They lifted their gaze slowly to Soap’s pinkie — and there it was, a red thread that shimmered faintly.

And then, as if the world wasn’t already strange enough, they turned to Price. He had his arms crossed, but they could see it. Price’s pinkie was adorned with the same red thread. A wave of disbelief hit them all at once, and they stared at their hands, then at each other. There was no hiding it now.

For a long moment, none of them said anything. They just stared — at the faint threads that connected them, at the way the strings didn’t just stretch between two people… but three.

Price was the first to move, shifting his stance slightly, a deep frown cutting into his features.

"This… isn't supposed to happen," he said lowly, almost to himself. Soap let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a gasp of disbelief. "No shit, mate" he muttered, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. He looked at Y/n again — wounded, still pale, but their eyes were sharp now, sharp and full of the same raw confusion he felt.

They swallowed thickly, voice rough. "I thought—" they started, then stopped, gathering their words. "I thought it was only supposed to be two people. One string. One bond."

Price dragged a hand down his face, exhaling slow and heavy. His gaze was steady when he looked at them both, though there was something wounded deep behind it.

"Some things in life don't follow the rules," he said simply.

"Bloody hell…" Soap muttered, pacing again. "I used to think… if it ever happened — if the string was real — it’d be simple. Just me and one other person. Not… not this." He motioned helplessly between the three of them. "Not… all of us.

Y/n gave a little hollow laugh that hitched in their throat. "Same." Another beat of silence. The tension in the room was thick — but underneath it was something new. Something fragile, and terrifying, and real.

Price moved first, stepping forward and lowering himself carefully into the chair on the opposite side of the bed from Soap. His movements were slow and deliberate, like he was afraid he might spook them all if he moved too fast.

"I don’t know how this happened," he said, voice low. "I don’t know why. But… it's real. You feel it too, don't you?"

Y/n hesitated… then nodded. The tugging sensation of belonging was impossible to ignore now that they were aware of it. It was there, even now, tugging gently at their heart, binding them to the two men who sat by their side.

Soap let out a long, shuddering breath. "Fuck," he said under his breath, looking up at the ceiling like he was asking the universe for answers. "So what now? We just… what, accept it? Pretend it doesn't change anything?"

"No pretending," Price said, voice firm. "Not here. Not with this." He leaned forward slightly, elbows braced on his knees, locking eyes with them — first Y/n, then Soap.

"This changes everything," he admitted. "But it doesn't have to be a weakness. Not if we trust each other."

Soap barked a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Trust, right. That’s easy for you to say, old man. You’re good at keepin' your head on straight."

Price smirked slightly, a rare thing — soft, almost fond. "You'll manage, Johnny."

Y/n closed their eyes for a second, trying to slow the frantic beating of their heart. "I… I never thought it could mean more than one person." Their voice was rough around the edges, raw with something they didn’t know how to name.

"Neither did we," Price said immediately, steady as ever. "But that doesn’t change what it is. It’s real." He gave a small nod, like he was reassuring not just them, but himself too. "And we’ll figure it out how to navigate it. Together."

Soap finally sat down, almost like his knees had given out. "You’re stuck with us now, bonnie," he said, with a tired smile that didn’t hide the thick emotion in his voice. "Hope you’re ready for a whole lot of trouble."

Y/n let out a breathless laugh, the first real one since the mission. It hurt — but it also felt good.

"I think," they said, voice trembling but steady, "I've been looking for trouble my whole life."

Price leaned back, studying them both — and for the first time, there was no distance in his gaze. No walls.

"Then it looks like you finally found the right place," he said. And somehow, for the first time in a long time, the cold, sterile med bay didn’t feel so cold anymore.

[lelaaaaaaaa]

red string theory- If two people are destined to meet, their paths will certainly cross one day. Whether they travel the world to find each other or hide to escape from each other, if it is destined, they will meet.

🤗

[chronicskillness]

[nerdylizj]

“Some choices aren’t ours to make,” Katara whispers so quietly that he isn’t sure if she’s speaking to herself or to him. “Sometimes fate chooses for you.” Or, Katara and Zuko dream of what could have been.

Prologue: green-

[triskel-samulet]

You know what would help red string theory? Helicopter struck by lightning

[prettygirl-gabi]

By A thread

---

---

Rating:General Audiences

Warning: Fluff, angst, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom:Seventeen (SVT)  (boyband)

Relationships: !idol Vernon x !non-idol f reader

Summary: When you and Vernon have a falling out...will the thread you're hanging on snap or was it only getting stronger

Trope : Invisible String Theory

---

Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the twelfth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

The moment I learned about the invisible string theory, I couldn't shake the idea that Vernon and I were connected by one. Not in the whimsical, serendipitous way people describe in romantic movies or storybooks, but in the messy, painful way life tends to unfold. Maybe that’s just how my mind works — always lingering on the edges of things, never fully believing in fairy tales. But still, I couldn’t let it go.

The red thread is supposed to be unbreakable, they say, no matter how much it tangles or stretches across time and space. Yet, as I sit here, staring at the text from Vernon that hasn’t received a response in weeks, I wonder if ours had snapped when I wasn’t paying attention.

*“We need to talk,”* he had said the last time we saw each other, his voice barely a whisper. It was one of those moments where you already know what’s coming but pretend you don’t. I had nodded, and we sat in silence.

Looking at my phone, the message stares back at me, a reminder that some things are left unfinished. I hadn’t meant for this to happen — this distance between us. It felt like it snuck up, inch by inch, until one day we were too far apart to meet in the middle.

*“Hey, are you still coming to the party tonight?”*

I blink back to the present, tapping out a quick response to my friend before tossing my phone onto the bed. I’m not sure why I’m going. Maybe part of me hopes Vernon will be there, though the thought makes my chest tighten. We haven’t spoken since that day. I don’t even know if he’ll want to see me.

---

The party is loud, buzzing with the kind of chaotic energy that both excites and exhausts me at once. People swarm around me, their laughter and chatter blending into a noise I can’t focus on. I’m too busy scanning the room, pretending like I’m not hoping to see him. It’s not until my third lap around the house that I finally spot him in the corner, surrounded by a few of his friends.

Vernon looks the same as always — tall, with that easy posture that makes him look like he belongs anywhere. His hair is a bit messier than usual, his jacket hanging loosely off his shoulders. But it’s his eyes that get me, the same way they always do. They glance up, meet mine for half a second, and I swear I feel something pull inside of me. That invisible string, tightening and pulling me closer.

I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or the unresolved tension, but before I can stop myself, I start walking toward him. He notices me, of course, because that’s just how it is with us. Our eyes always seem to find each other. The crowd parts slightly as I make my way over, and suddenly, we’re face-to-face.

“Hey,” I manage, my voice barely audible above the noise.

“Hey,” he replies, his tone unreadable.

The air between us feels charged, thick with all the things we haven’t said. I can’t help but wonder if he’s been thinking about me the way I’ve been thinking about him. About how we drifted apart, about all the little moments that built up to this silence.

“Can we talk?” I blurt out, and his expression falters for a second before he nods.

We weave through the crowd until we find a quieter spot outside. The cool night air hits me, calming the nerves that have been building up inside. Vernon stands a few feet away from me, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking like he’s trying to figure out what to say. I beat him to it.

“I’m sorry,” I begin, my voice shaky. “For everything. I didn’t mean to just disappear like that.”

His eyes soften, but there’s still a distance in them. “You didn’t disappear. I did. Or maybe we both did. I don’t know.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I thought we were good, you know? And then… we weren’t. And I didn’t know how to fix it.”

His words hang in the air, and I feel that invisible string between us tugging again. The tension in his voice mirrors the one inside me, a mess of confusion, hurt, and regret that’s been building for months.

“I thought the same thing,” I admit, stepping closer to him. “But maybe we both were waiting for the other to fix it. And we didn’t realize it was falling apart until it was too late.”

Vernon looks down at his feet, and for a moment, I’m terrified he’ll agree — that maybe it *is* too late. But when he looks back up, there’s something different in his eyes. Not the same frustration or disappointment I’d seen before. There’s hope there, and it makes my heart ache.

“Do you think we could fix it now?” he asks softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t know. But I want to try. I miss you, Vernon. More than you probably realize.”

His lips tug into a small, sad smile, and he takes a step closer to me. The space between us feels smaller now, but not suffocating — comforting, like we’re figuring this out together.

“I miss you, too,” he admits, and it feels like the words are being pulled from deep inside him, ones he’s been holding back for too long. “I don’t want to keep messing this up.”

I nod, feeling the same way. We stand there for a moment, neither of us speaking, just letting the quiet fill the gaps. I can feel the weight of all the unspoken things between us, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel unbearable.

“You know the invisible string thing?” I say suddenly, my words tumbling out before I can stop them.

Vernon raises an eyebrow, looking at me like I’ve lost it. “Uh, what?”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “It’s this theory — that people who are meant to be connected are tied together by an invisible red string. No matter how far apart they are, or how tangled things get, they’re still connected. Like… fate, or something.”

Vernon is quiet for a second, his expression thoughtful. “So, you think we’re connected by some invisible string?”

I shrug, feeling a bit embarrassed now that I’ve said it out loud. “I don’t know. It sounds kind of ridiculous, but… yeah. I do.”

He smiles, this time a real one, and I feel warmth spread through my chest. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous. I mean, we’ve made it this far, right?”

I meet his gaze, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel that connection between us again. Stronger, somehow.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “We did.”

Vernon reaches out, his fingers brushing against mine, and I take his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against my own. We stand there, hand in hand, the world around us fading into the background.

Maybe the invisible string between us never snapped after all. Maybe it just got a little tangled along the way. But standing here, with Vernon by my side, I know one thing for sure — we’re still connected.

And this time, we’re not letting go.

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            ‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[imaginative-joy]

Inktober 2021 piece, prompt was "Knot." Is the red string of fate being tied or untied? Either way, someone is thinking about it...

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Sooo Invisible is going to be all about invisible red string theory!!