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Summary
When a sick man meets a sicker man, he finds himself mirrored, understood; finds himself solved and doesn’t run from it for the first time in his life. But he hates it, just as he loves it. And so the sick man nudges the other, peels his shell part by part, and finds himself naked in return.
When one sick man lets go, there is always the sicker man who holds on.
———
Luka doesn’t cope well with loneliness, and neither does Ivan.
Recent bookmarks
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“An angel? You’re having nightmares about an angel?”
Kafka sounds a little confused. Ren couldn’t blame her. Her expression shifts back into bland, unassuming patience.
“Angels,” she muses. “A symbol of purity, innocence, goodness… Sometimes mercy. Sometimes even death itself. It’s not so surprising that you’d dream of one, A-Ren, but you seem to dislike the role that angel played. In your dream, it seemed to be…mm, a symbol of forgiveness. Do you detest the idea of being forgiven that much?”
(In which Ren tries to live a normal life, avoiding that certain being that keeps a close, unsettling watch. This might have something to do with what happened during his stay at the mental health facility.)
Bookmarked by 4hra
15 Feb 2026
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“I thought I’d find you here.”
Luka doesn’t spare him a glance. “Then stop thinking.”
Ivan, unperturbed, accepts. “Okay.”
Series
- Part 3 of by the root
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After the grueling Neo Egoist League, Bastard Munchen's manager decides their members went through a lot and sends them off to therapy.
Bookmarked by 4hra
31 Dec 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
this is the kaiser that is most accurate to the one in my head and its beautifully written :") absolutely love it
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“You’re drunk,” he murmurs, low and rough. “Will you remember this tomorrow?”
“I’m not that drunk anymore,” Ness says. Looks at Kaiser’s mouth and licks his lip. “I need you, Kaiser. My head hurts—”
OR
Kaiser’s mid-throw, a lamp clutched over his head and aimed at the darkened television, when his phone vibrates.
helpme, Ness’s text reads.
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Summary
So he played soccer as a quiet rebellion, cast spells on the pitch with his passes, and then he met Michael. Michael, ethereally, impossibly beautiful, like a prince or perhaps even a king, an emperor. Michael, who believed in the unexplainable, who believed in his magic. And Alexis drowned, he drowned in cerulean eyes and sharp insults and a laugh he’d memorised, despite only having truly seen it twice.
'Oh shit. Maybe I AM gay.'
Or: In which Alexis desperately needs a hug, Michael gets relationship advice from Itoshi Sae of all people, and they hurt each other enough to learn that the worst (best) kind of healing comes from separation.

