See what you started Crown Queen!?! What has been done cannot be undone! We shall all forever be Narcissistic self shipping sinners!!! But that is alright. We have learned that Sancest is okay and shall live on within our hearts, minds and souls XD
Perché ogni volta deve finire così…le nostre pagine…strappate sempre di più…dove sono finite le nostre chiamate passate tra sorrisi e frasi dolci, tra cavolate e freddure. Mi manca…mi mancano quei momenti, mi manca il tuo sorriso, per quanto siano belle le tue lacrime fanno male come spilli che, come uno di quei cuscinetti ricamati, conficcati dritti…in mezzo al petto.
Mi manca sentirti sollevato, mi manca sentirti felice. Mi dispiace di essere lontana mi dispiace di essere nata qui, certe volte mi dispiace anche di essere nata sinceramente…“what is done cannot be undone”. Ogni notte ho attacchi di panico e la mattinata la passo con delle emicranie da paura….non riesco a concentrarmi su nulla e l'esame finale si avvicina…mi sento confusa, spaesata…chi sono…cosa sono…perché deve fare sempre così male…
((ok, I thought he looked better… I used photo of Hideo Muraoka as a body reference))
Ok, so, em, I just have kind of a story to this drawing.
emm… a headcanon?
Gogo and Honey Lemon just as a joke signed up Tadashi on some modeling competition and send lame photos of him. They forgot about it, and ofc, Tadashi was in sweet unawareness. Things got complicated when Tadashi got in and had to take part in a real professional photo session. So Gogo with Honey Lemon, had to tell him - he was furious. But what was done, cannot be undone, he would take part in but he needed to get some fancy clothes that moment, instantly, bc they got info about all that mess few hours before photo session. So Honey with Gogo were asking random ppl at the corridors at their university to borrow some nice things (Gogo apparently ripped off one dude’s jeans). During photo session Tadashi was sending them death glear, what just kind of made him 100x hotter… but he, (thank god, thought Tadashi) didn’t win.
Guilt is illogical. Regret is illogical. What is, is. What was, was. What is done cannot be undone. The lesson should be taken, memorized, memorialized to the extent required, and then released.
Spock’s trying, really, he is.
It’s just that nothing is the way Spock expected them to be, and although of course rigidity in expectation is illogical itself as the universe is constantly unfolding into new scenes, with new players upon the stage, Spock at least thought he understood the premise of the script, if not the emotion behind it.
Jim Kirk doesn’t do scripts. Not even the neatly printed Starfleet Regulation Handbook. He can barely even stick to the stage directions–smiling when he is sad, for instance, serves no purpose other than to prevent the requisite comfort to alleviate and soothe.
Spock cannot imagine attempting to soothe the depths of Jim Kirk’s sadness. It would be like attempting to brush his hand across a nebula–shimmering and incorporeal. And, most important of all, perhaps, just as pointless. It’s too deep, too faraway now, for Spock to touch.
Do you understand why I went back for you?
No, actually, Spock thinks, rereading his report later, long after it has passed into irrelevancy, long after apologies could have served any purpose, long after everything has coalesced into an enormous meltdown, leaving only Jim Kirk’s body lying cold and empty by the glass and the kind of silence that only comes after a death. I have never earned you. It is illogical that you should value my life to any extent beyond any other person’s.
But the truth, now spoken, can no longer go unnoticed. All plausible deniability is off. There is truth, and only truth, and the spread of Jim’s hand against the glass. Against Spock’s. Because you are my friend.
It is illogical, now that Jim has died and been brought back to life, to dwell on these past matters. Jim laughs and smiles, plays games that involve running and chasing and yelling and also games that involve strategic thinking and a different kind of silence, one that still moves, still breathes. It is a good life to live again, Spock thinks. A good life to have saved.
But Spock thinks about that life and all its second chances and the guilt is illogical, but still there is sometimes that sadness in Jim Kirk, the one Spock cannot place nor understand, and he wonders whether he should not leave those second chances to the ones who deserve them.
He’s trying, Spock is, truly, but Jim Kirk smiles when the script would have said he ought not, and so Spock joins him in the improvisation and stays.