J-eonsa
C-lementine
alterinq
Cridhe-briste
Ao-Heroa-Hjarta
kliovan
b-rutality
m-isunderstoo-d
E-scapIsms
Total--Darkness
unamusinq
pun-ISH
kneescrapes
auxiliary-aide
tramautizinq
encouraginq
searchinq
e-spionage
d-arkdreams
hopefuIness
A-methystinus
rebeIlious
heroIns
truth-and-ideals
awhorable
h-ardsheII
homesIice
- June 30
- United States
- Deviant for 8 years
- He / Him
Badges
My Bio
the sickly.
kenta 'ken' toujigamori.
{ twenty-three years of age. six feet, one inch.
japanese-american. black hair. black eyes. panromantic pansexual. }
Needless to say, you've seen some stuff. Sometimes, you ponder on your luck- what are the odds that you, a sickly, fragile and young salaryman happen to have made it this far in what many consider the apocalypse? People you've known- friends, family, simple acquaintances; you've seen them, rotting in their corpses, souls somewhere else hopefully in a happier place but with their collapsing bodies dragging on in the most primal and terrifying of ways. Your mother, your little brother- they weren't here with you- and while you grieved heavily during the first months, you came to a realization that they are happier where they are and they would want you to live on with their legacy.
Therefore, you hope. You hope for a peaceful future, the unity of the people, the will to survive and to live; you wake in the morning with tremendous migraine, an awful throat, throbbing eyes, aching bones and optimism that cannot be overcome.
You joined a camp, recently- and you certainly can't help but admire the people there. Strong, fast, smart- you call it, but everyone has their own admirable skill- and you? You're just a sickly young man with what some say a 'spirit of gold'. It flatters you, though, and you grin in joy when you are able to attend to others. And maybe, just maybe- you'll all live on to posterity.
kenta 'ken' toujigamori.
{ twenty-three years of age. six feet, one inch.
japanese-american. black hair. black eyes. panromantic pansexual. }
Needless to say, you've seen some stuff. Sometimes, you ponder on your luck- what are the odds that you, a sickly, fragile and young salaryman happen to have made it this far in what many consider the apocalypse? People you've known- friends, family, simple acquaintances; you've seen them, rotting in their corpses, souls somewhere else hopefully in a happier place but with their collapsing bodies dragging on in the most primal and terrifying of ways. Your mother, your little brother- they weren't here with you- and while you grieved heavily during the first months, you came to a realization that they are happier where they are and they would want you to live on with their legacy.
Therefore, you hope. You hope for a peaceful future, the unity of the people, the will to survive and to live; you wake in the morning with tremendous migraine, an awful throat, throbbing eyes, aching bones and optimism that cannot be overcome.
You joined a camp, recently- and you certainly can't help but admire the people there. Strong, fast, smart- you call it, but everyone has their own admirable skill- and you? You're just a sickly young man with what some say a 'spirit of gold'. It flatters you, though, and you grin in joy when you are able to attend to others. And maybe, just maybe- you'll all live on to posterity.
Profile Comments 73
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i have sweet tea
and
ice cream
and chips
will u be my non-valentine-day-valentine?
and
ice cream
and chips
will u be my non-valentine-day-valentine?
ooc. this guy's such a cutie omg <3 i luv this
happy birthday, kid !!
damn i want to recite a poem just for you , ,
ken !!
i got you a present !
/ ken
/ she is giving up her butterfinger
/ for you because it's your birthday
/ that means a l OT
"ken!!!"
/ she is giving up her butterfinger
/ for you because it's your birthday
/ that means a l OT
"ken!!!"
"kenta ken mem lem nem ken gen len kentyy kenton kentingshton"
oh so so many years before today
our founding fathers with their signatures
sculpted the greatest nation as some say , ,,,