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#No word sun shine
robsmooth · 11 months
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"You are my home and my journey
I was cursed with your love for many of years and I loathed everything I have ever devoted myself to
And I have no one else to comfort my pain other than you. My beautiful child"
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taizi · 3 months
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gently in the cold dark earth
scum villain's self saving system word count: 2k canon divergent / no system au; sy transmigrates into an empty npc role; gray lotus binghe loves his shixiong more than life and he's ready to make it everyone's problem
title borrowed from work song by hozier
read on ao3
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The first thing Luo Binghe does when he escapes the Abyss is return to Cang Qiong Mountain. 
With Xin Mo secured to his back, the way could be instant if he so chose—the journey of a thousand miles reduced to a single step—but he unsheathes the elegant jian at his hip instead.
Yong Liang sings sweetly for him, the snow white blade still shining and untainted even after years of helping Luo Binghe carve his way through hell. It has never once failed him, soulbound to the one person still on this earth who has never failed him. 
“Take it,” his shixiong insisted, low and urgent. The Abyss was behind them, an even deadlier threat was ahead, and Without A Cure clogging his meridians made Luo Binghe the best choice to wield the only unshattered spirit sword they had between them. “Binghe, take it.”
He pressed until Luo Binghe’s grip curled tight around the hilt, not hesitating to put his soul in Luo Binghe’s hands even with the rosy glow of an unsealed demon mark shining on his face. 
Luo Binghe flies at a pace best described as dangerously reckless, hardly smelling the fragrant spring air or feeling the sun on his face. His robes are a disgrace, his hair a tangled, matted mess, and it occurs to him that he could stop somewhere and clean himself up, make himself presentable, but it’s a brief, fleeting thought. 
Shen Yuan would be furious to find out that Luo Binghe wasted even a single second returning to his side. 
——
He passes through the ancient wards effortlessly, feeling them fall away from him like water. It’s a simple thing to tamp down on his demonic qi, to disguise the parts of him that those so-called righteous cultivators would scorn. He ghosts through the familiar grounds as eagerly as a starving animal bolting down a fresh game trail, but one by one, all of their familiar haunts come up empty, without even a lingering trace of Shen Yuan’s spiritual energy left behind.   
The head disciple’s room is dusted and undisturbed, as if its occupant might walk through the door at any moment, but the lack of clutter and the empty book shelf makes it very clear to Luo Binghe what the truth must be.
If Shen Yuan returned to the peak after the Conference, he didn’t stay. 
All at once, images crowd the front of his mind—his shixiong grieving, pulling away, turning his back on those responsible for his heartache. 
Yue Qingyuan, always only a step behind wherever his precious Xiu Ya sword went, promised that no one wanted to hurt them. They only wanted to help.
He looked so solemn and righteous that Shen Yuan reluctantly allowed himself to be convinced. Luo Binghe, who had gone to the man for help after a bloody whipping when he was a child, only to be given a walnut cake and turned away at the door, knew better. 
He wasn’t surprised when Shen Yuan was wrenched away from him, and shizun sent him staggering off the cliff with a spiritual dagger buried to the hilt in his chest, all of it happening within a matter of seconds—but it still hurt. 
Shen Yuan’s scream followed him all the way down. 
I’m alive, Luo Binghe thinks, with no one there to tell it to. I came back to you. Let me come back to you. 
——
Including time spent in the abyss, it’s three years before they meet again. 
Luo Binghe’s revenge is his second priority at best, but he is nothing if not efficient and knows how to kill two birds with the same stone. Huan Hua affords him ample resources and opportunities to scour the world for his missing shixiong while playing the role of earnest and diligent new disciple. He snatches up each mission that comes along as though  eager to prove his worth to the sect that so graciously took him in, but he takes every excuse to wander, to search, to make conversation with vendors and innkeepers and passing strangers. 
Have you seen my heart? It lives outside of me in the form of a beautiful young man and tends to wander. Very contrary, likes to fuss over people, could argue the stripes off a lushu just for fun. You’d know it if you met it. You’d never forget. 
The days blur together, meaningless and gray, but he doesn’t stop looking. Shen Yuan still exists somewhere in this world, because otherwise Luo Binghe wouldn’t. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. 
And then, finally—an afternoon in Jinlan City, when Luo Binghe arrives in a throng of incompetent gold-clad Huan Hua disciples, to investigate a plague of all things—
He’s there. 
In dark, neutral colors and plain clothes, a traveling cloak with its hood resting down around his shoulders, as if his beauty could possibly be lessened by cheap, shapeless fabrics rather than effortlessly enhanced. His hair falls from its half-tail in glorious waves—he never did have the patience for anything elaborate, only wearing braids when one of his sticky shidimei cajoled and convinced him. Traveling alone, who could he possibly have to roll his eyes at and complain about and sit patiently still for?
A pale green ribbon is all that decorates his hair. Luo Binghe recognizes it instantly. 
“You should spend your allowance on yourself, Binghe,” Shen Yuan scolded him, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. 
“But I did,” Luo Binghe protested, widening his eyes and clasping his hands earnestly, the way he knew worked best. “I wanted it! And now that I have it, I want to give it to you.”
Shen Yuan was too clever by half to be truly fooled by the innocent act, but he always folded like paper anyway. He spoiled all of his shidimei but Luo Binghe most of all. Anyone on Qing Jing Peak would be hard-pressed to think of a single example of Shen Yuan telling Luo Binghe ‘no.’ 
Sure enough, after a second spent visibly wrestling with himself, he blurted, “Oh, fine! Hand it over.” 
He wore it every day since. He’s wearing it now. The wind catches the ends of it, sending it streaming behind him like the tails of a paradise flycatcher. Lovely. 
For a brief moment, Luo Binghe is frozen where he stands, finally faced with the very thing that he’s been missing for years, that he’s been living a miserable half-life without. 
And then he remembers himself and lurches forward. His voice is a tangle in his throat but he manages to choke out, “Shixiong!”
A strike of lightning couldn’t have jolted Shen Yuan into more perfect stillness. He stops mid-step, every inch of him as good as carved from precious jade. He doesn’t turn his head, and the sliver of his face visible from where Luo Binghe stands is very pale. 
Luo Binghe wonders suddenly if this has happened to him before—if Shen Yuan has heard a voice on the road or in the market that was almost familiar, that was almost the one he was hoping for, only to be disappointed when he turned to follow it and found a stranger. 
Luo Binghe shortens the distance between them with a few anxious steps and tries again. 
“Shixiong.”
The older boy whirls around abruptly, as if to get it over with. He’s bracing himself, but Luo Binghe barely has a second to absorb Shen Yuan’s painful-looking anticipation before it bleeds out of his face in favor of something else entirely. 
He looks like the earth has fallen out from beneath his feet, like he hardly dares to believe his eyes. Zheng Yang gleams golden at Shen Yuan’s hip, reforged and whole again.
“Binghe?”  
“It’s me,” Luo Binghe says softly. 
There’s a tableau he’s afraid to break, as if they’re in a delicate dreamscape and a move too sudden or loud might dissolve it. He wants to say I’ve missed you the way lungs miss air, immediately and needfully, I haven’t breathed at all since we’ve been apart. He wants to say you’re my light in the dark, I can only stand in front of you now because I love you too much to ever truly leave you. 
Instead, he tells his dearest friend, “This one made you wait. But your Binghe is here.”
Shen Yuan sprints the rest of the way to meet him, almost before he’s even finished talking, and they collide in a solid embrace that knocks the air from them both. 
His arms wind around Luo Binghe’s waist like steel bands, fingers digging into the back of his robes, precious face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Luo Binghe doesn’t hesitate to gather him up close, holding him as tightly and securely as he knows how, burying his nose in his shixiong’s hair and breathing in the familiar, beloved smell of him.  
Shen Yuan is a few inches shorter than he remembers. All the better to tuck him beneath Luo Binghe’s chin, to cover and surround him so completely that not even the heavens above can get a decent eyeful. 
He wants to grab and bite and pin Shen Yuan beneath him and never let go. His jaw aches with wanting it. 
“I’ve been looking for you,” Luo Binghe says, eyes wet. “I went home first.” Unsaid goes the obvious but you weren’t there. 
“How could I stay?” Shen Yuan bites out, managing to sound all at once strangled and bewildered and—charmingly—offended. He shakes his head without lifting it, an aggressive nuzzle against Binghe’s shoulder. “After what they did to you, I’d rather die than represent their stupid sect another minute.”
“Step away from it, Shen Yuan,” shizun said coldly. “I’ll put that beast back where it belongs.”
“No,” shixiong said in a voice that was smaller than usual, one that shook. He was frightened, clearly overwhelmed, but he didn’t budge from where he was plastered in front of Luo Binghe like a breathing shield. 
“Now.” 
“No, shizun.”
“Shizhi,” Yue Qingyuan said gently, offering his hand. “Come here. It will be alright.”
Shen Yuan said, “No. You can’t hurt Binghe. He’s not bad just because of who his parents are. He’s as good as he was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. He’s hardworking and loyal and a sweetheart to anybody who gives him half a chance. He’s so good.”
Liu Qingge was behind the sect leader, sword drawn. Shen Qingqiu was quickly losing what little patience he had, face twisted into a sneer, dark eyes stabbing hatefully at Luo Binghe from over his head disciple’s shoulder. There were more figures rapidly drawing closer, the other peak lords following the flare of Yue Qingyuan’s qi. The standoff was becoming more and more untenable, and Shen Yuan was too smart not to see that, shrinking back against Luo Binghe as much as he could without crowding him closer to the edge. 
“You can’t hurt him,” he said again, the closest Luo Binghe had ever heard him come to tears, “he’s my shidi.”
Luo Binghe is unsurprised by his shixiong’s loyalty, because it’s already been proven to him over and over. It’s unremarkable at this point, which is an absolutely remarkable thing in itself. It makes him feel warm with gratitude and affection and ownership. 
Shen Yuan is clever and quick on his feet and always three steps ahead, more knowledgeable about flora and fauna than anyone else Binghe has ever known combined, and probably a force to be reckoned with as a rogue cultivator, where the only rules of conduct he has to adhere to are his own. 
But Luo Binghe hates to think of him on the road alone, without the little martial siblings who follow him like ducklings, without his Binghe there to make sure he remembers to eat all his meals and comb out his hair before bed. He’s a creature of comfort, made for airy rooms with too many cushions and an abundance of sweets and books to read. 
Luo Binghe has fantasized more than once about building a home for Shen Yuan to lounge prettily in. It was, in fact, his favorite flavor of daydream since he was about thirteen. 
If Shen Yuan wants to rogue cultivate, then that’s what they’ll do. But Luo Binghe thinks, if he constructs a palace that’s as comfortable as it is grand, and fills it with trashy romance novels and obscure beasts and his own hand-made meals, he can convince his friend to live in it with him.
Shen Yuan needs to be taken care of. Luo Binghe needs to be the one taking care of him. They’re together now and they’ll never be apart again and those needs can both be met. 
That possessive, proprietary feeling coils dark and deep inside him, undulating lazily like a serpent who’s fed enough for days, reminding him over and over what he already knows:
Mine. 
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babbimetal · 3 months
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LEGEND MM DAY 1 HAS COMMENCED I WAS WATCHING A LIVESTREAM OF IT LORD HAVE MERCY IT WAS ICONIC!!!!
WE GOT THE RETURN OF DA DA DANCE, SHANTI SHANTI SHANTI FUCKING KAGEROU FUCKING SYNCOPATION AND DOKI DOKI MORNING WITH MOMO VOCALS❗️❗️❗️
AND OF COURSE WE GOT METALI(WITH A NEW KAMI BAND INTRO :O)
AND MOMOBANGER❗️❗️❗️❗️ WE GOT MOMOBANGER❗️❗️❗️ SHE FUCKING GROWLED TWICE AND CAME DOWN FROM THE CEILING AND ALL THE WRISTBANDS AND LIGHTS WERE PINK EJSJWJWJWJWN
NIGHT 21 TOMORROW IS 1,000% GONNA HAVE A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SETLIST AND ITS GONNA SLAY SO FUCKING HARD
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priscirat · 3 months
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the moon got a shine of her own
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yourlovelyspace · 1 month
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💝☀️
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gardenofwordss · 2 years
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Don't compare your life to others.. There's no comparison between the sun and the moon. They shine when it's their time.
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ssentimentals · 2 years
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dating dk feels like...
walking on the flower road. he is acceptance without judgement, gentle touch with all the care in the world; it's never hard to be vulnerable with him because he encourages it, wants you to spill your whole heart to him so he can put it back together, each piece sewed back to another one with love threads.
seokmin is a literal embodiment of the quote 'how lucky you are to have someone you can tell all about your bad behaviors without them thinking that you are a bad person, but because they know that what is inside is purer and more beautiful'.
('mistakes don't make us bad,' he says quietly, stroking your back. 'we are only humans, we all have ego, we all make bad judgements sometimes.'
yours sobs turned into little sniffs at this point as you calmed down from your breakdown. rubbing your eyes, you meet his gaze and almost cry again because the amount of love you find there feels completely undeserved now. you can barely breathe, thinking about what kind of impression he must have of you now. 'seokkie,' you call, hiccuping. 'please don't think bad-'
'shh,' he pulls you back to him and lets you wet his t-shirt with your tears. 'i don't think bad of you, how could i? you are my everything.' he stops when you lightly swat at his chest. chuckling, he grabs your hand and kisses your fingers. 'what? i know you and you are more than this situation.' he feels a small kiss placed on his shoulder and smiles. 'you are my everything.')
he is the 'yeah i haven't slept more than one hour but no worries, i'm coming with you' and 'i can stay on the line as much as you need, tell me everything' type of guy; his love pours from him in waves and you can feel it even through the distance. his heart is big and it wants to fit all of you, wants to keep you close but not with desire to lock you away but with wish to treasure and take care. he is the furtherest guy from displaying any controlling behavior; he wants you to be you and be happy.
('i want to do it but..' you shift from side to side, unsure. 'it sounds a bit crazy to be honest.'
'it does,' he agrees and quickly adds before you can start overthinking: 'but if it'll make you happy then i'm all for it.'
your eyes shine brighter at this, lightning up whole town. 'really? you don't mind?' you rush towards him, lopping your arms around his torso. 'really-really?'
seokmin laughs, addicted to your happiness. he nods, kissing you soundly. 'really and i want to do it with you. crazy things are better when shared, right?')
dates with seokmin are filled with lightness; there's nothing forced and he just makes it so easy. easy to accept that perfection doesn't exist, easy to face your fears, easy to speak up. he is hope, he is light at the end of the tunnel, he is a lighthouse in the middle of the ocean; he can handle a lot and all he asks for is to be appreciated for it.
('did i go overboard with my positivity?' he asks on your way back home. by his solemn tone you can tell that this has been on his mind for a while. 'i can get annoying sometime-'
'no,' you interrupt sharply, angry that he even thinks so. 'no, everyone needed that, trust me. didn't see how hopeful you made everybody?'
he looks at you, trying to see in your eyes whether you're lying or not. when he realizes that you're not, he relaxes, smiling. 'most importantly, did i make you start thinking positively too?'
you nod, because he did, because that's what he does to you all the time. 'you gave me hope again.')
he's a bit shy, awkward in some things too, but he is devoted - your relationship is a priority for him and he is ready to shift his life around in order to accommodate you in the best way. he molds himself around you but he does so without losing himself in it.
dating seokmin is like laying on the beach and having tides lightly sweep over you in a gentle reminder of themselves. this is how it is with seokmin - you have a solid ground to lay on and his love encompasses you all but without overwhelming you. it's peaceful, it's tender, it's sweet.
a/n: written for loveliest @pepperonidk <3
tag list: @pearlygraysky @woozionascooter @smalliechelle @jaetaimjadore @yeow6n (let me know if you want to be added!)
here is the link to my all my other works and come say hi <3 - nini
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twopathsdiverge · 2 months
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Rejoice!
My eyes Can find The kind Remind.
Lonely, still,
The sun will shine.
Proven by the passage,
Time.
A lovely sense,
Sight.
How divine.
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spacemilkbag · 2 months
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I really needed a laugh thanks guys and dream for making it happen ❤️
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heraldofcrow · 1 year
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Melancholia isn’t the age-old trope of the rainy funeral, the snow-capped graveyard or the grey skies in midwinter.
It’s not the fall of night or the fading leaves.
Melancholia is the sunlit graveyard years after the last funeral was held there.
Melancholia is wild flowers growing over a field that was once stained with the blood of war.
It’s when the animals return after years have passed and begin to raise their offspring in that field.
It’s when the insects hum again and birds return to sing with joy after you’ve been shattered by life’s cruelties.
It’s when nature heals after it was trampled under the weight of death and decay.
It’s when nature heals despite humanity’s lingering wounds from that time of suffering.
Melancholia is when the earth just keeps spinning and life goes on, despite the fact that you remain in that time, that day, that moment.
It’s when spring returns with bright greens after a winter of grief and despair.
It’s when you find a forgotten headstone in the midsummer warmth, overgrown with flowers and leaves.
It’s when you can’t read the faded name on that headstone, because despite our best efforts to remember, we forgot.
It’s that feeling of lost memory, when you return to a childhood home and it doesn’t look the same because it moved on without you.
Melancholia is the sun rising above a broken world.
It’s dawn shining with golden rays through the walls of a city that was ruined the night before.
Melancholia is the light returning when it should have stayed dark.
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theladwhoisweird · 7 months
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I'm the sun. Please take off that umbrella. Those shades are not necessary. Wipe off that suntan lotion. Let my beams embrace you.
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herewegobebe · 2 years
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 JINKI 💞🐰💞  Midnight Sun Curtain Call   (Cr. dooboplalalike)
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burrythelies · 6 months
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offrozenmemoirs · 1 month
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"Makoto," Maisie glances at the floor worriedly. The both of them have been sitting beside together. "I am not sure if you're able of this, but your tail looks like it's about to coil around my leg."
Unprompted Asks || Accepting! @allthatisleftinthedark
"Hm?"
The dragon looks at his companion, before noticing that his tail is in fact curling around Maisie's ankle. He wonders just when he's become so comfortable around the woman, part of him feeling slightly uncomfortable with the gesture of affection. Yet, another part of him doesn't mind. How could he, when all he wants is to be treated softly?
It's stubborn pride that makes him deny gestures of affection, pushing others away and keeping the icy wall around his heart. He's afraid to lose others, and he's afraid to have his heart torn out once again. For all the power he held, he couldn't protect someone he loved dearly. So he walled himself off.
He remembers Maisie's hands cupping his cheeks, and how it made him freeze, how gentle her touch was, how warm her hands felt against him. He remembers leaning into it, a soft rumble of pleasure vibrating within his chest. Eyes closed, he simply enjoys the presence of another, for however short of a time it may have been.
"Ah. My apologies."
Makoto's voice is surprisingly soft, and he looks down at his lap, tail uncoiling from around Maisie's leg, before adjusting to wrap around her wrist instead.
"Makoto? Are you okay?"
He nods in response to her question, and allows a smile to come to his face. He doesn't know what he's supposed to be feeling anymore, however short the time that things have been, in between his training as an Astral Knight, and dealing with the ramifications of Orchidus returning to their world, there had been a growing sense of both irritation and desperation.
The prince wants nothing more than a break from all the work he's been doing, to try and live something of a normal life for once. Alas, that wouldn't happen, not quite yet. So, perhaps it's time that he makes more of an effort.
[But you can't continue to go on without properly mourning. How can you help when you can barely pull yourself together long enough to get your current work done? You've locked yourself away so long that you don't know how to live among the world anymore.]
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm still capable of changing. I know I'm not easy to deal with. That I'm too eager to jump to violence...But I...I never want to feel powerless again, to feel as if I'm going to fail the people who are relying on me."
[I don't want to fail you.]
"I don't know how else to be, and I'm afraid of what's going to become of me once I tire of fighting. Who am I meant to be, outside of a general? What place do I have in a time of peace?"
Maisie sits, and she listens, and she's always listening to the problems of others, but who listens to her? How long has she had to be the one who keeps things together, who pulls it all together and holds it there when they're on the verge of breaking? How much more could she do before she broke? Yet she gives her all to people, she gives her all and more, even when she shouldn't. He is not worthy of her, and he knows that. Yet she continues to give him chances. He feels her hand rest on top of his, and he flinches as he's pulled from his wandering mind.
Gentleness guides her fingers over his frost-like skin, barely kindling warmth to his countenance. Sunflower yellow irises train on his nearly white eyes. When she meets his eyes, it is like sunlight trying to break through a blizzard. So much intensity may be blinding, and the snowfall obscures any chance for the light to seep through or for someone to finally see where they stand in a bleak white storm.
"You are fighting for the chance of your countrymen to live," her eyelids lower, watching him sympathetically. "You are using power to what you can, but violence isn't why you are powerful; you are choosing to use it as such."
"After fighting all this time, remember that your soldiers go to barracks or home to rest, the same way you return to your loved ones to meet them. You have peace in you and the power to decide that."
"What comes in the aftermath is, hopefully, you." Her lips quirk in a shy smile.
Makoto has to stop himself from turning away at how beautiful her smile is. Sometimes he likens her smile to the rising of the sun, matched only by the sound of her laughter. Much like the chiming of a bell, music to his ears. He loves the way her eyes twinkle, and how her shoulders shake with laughter sometimes, and he likes the way her fingers feel running through his hair, as gentle as a breeze.
Her eyes draw away momentarily, "What you make of it is a mystery." But she returns her eyes to him, careful and tender in her voice. "You will find who you'd want to be in life, not what you were supposed to be in war."
"You are not alone in what comes after. You are not and won't be; you just need to let some people in, 'Koto."
He takes her hand that caresses his cheek, and turns his head and places a gentle kiss to the palm. His heart races slightly, at being so bold (for him). It was easy for him to flirt with people, but the minute there was interest returned, it threw him off. Yet, now, he wasn't afraid to give such a gesture. Perhaps it was because Maisie was a comforting presence, she could calm him, get him to see reason.
"wux re wer siksta batobot kanskaic vhira acht ve, sia mitne, kagh wux skaulix ve. si ornla majak wux wer hardric, sjek wux tora coi di ve, sia itov."
His eyes twinkle with mirth, and a laugh rumbles from his chest as he sees her confused look. She doesn't speak draconic, so she wouldn't understand him. Makoto leans in and presses a peck against her forehead, before leaning back and wrapping his tail and wings around her. Gentle with his grip, he simply enjoys the warmth of another person. He feels the gnome stiffen slightly, before she relaxes and stares up at him.
"I think I needed this, Mai. Thank you, sia itov."
He resists the urge to giggle as he sees her wrinkle her nose, but she smiles, cupping his cheeks once more.
"Any time, 'Koto."
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euesworld · 1 year
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"Like the sun in the sky, you shine so bright.. no day with you could ever be night. You're just so fun, a whole lot of love.. and baby I want to tell you that you're the only one."
I love you like biscuits and gravy with a kiss on the side - eUë
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kotaerukoto · 7 days
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" We’re all headed into an ashen sky, and we don’t always know where we’re going. Whether or not things will work out isn’t something anyone can definitely say, but even so… Even so, we won’t stop moving forward. "
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" That uncertain tomorrow— will surely be a good day! "
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