“People keep telling me to write something Like joy’s the only thing worth singing about.
But the truth is… the songs that stick in your chest the longest?
They’re the personal ones.
That’s where the real stuff lives”
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The fox blows off a record, one of his dads. Setting it on his player before going to make himself some coco, his heat stopped working so he’s warming up any way he can, he wouldn’t be opposed to company though
The front door of the small burrow apartment creaks open just after sunset. A tired but warm voice calls out from the entryway as a shopping bag rustles and keys jingle
“I’m home, READER! Im gonna start on dinner~!•