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#love and letter 馃拰
astronautdiaz15 hours ago
Thinking about Eddie climbing in Bucks bunk with him post Buck begins and no one says anything about it because they all know what it鈥檚 like to come this close to losing the person you love most in the world and they know the only cure for that desperate feeling is falling asleep feeling them breathe under your hands. I gtg
cool ! i no longer feel okay !!! thanks king for the emotional damage !!!
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acknowledgetheabsurd8 hours ago
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I'm leaning on us and that strength is infinite. Your love, the one that fills me up, the splendid certainty where I live now, makes all my will and all my deep joy. I want to thank you, again and again, as one thanks an irreplaceable companion. And to kiss you too, but like the woman I love - with all my strength.
Albert Camus to Maria Casar猫s, Correspondance, September 17, 1949 [#96] 聽 聽
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pierremichelofavignon12 hours ago
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"My Dearest Heart,
Oh, the cruelty of this war that has taken you from my arms. I am lost without you, unable to find my way in a landscape of dying bodies and rivers of flowing blood. The world makes no sense. Up is down. Day is night. I trust that you are safe from the devils with which we wage war. I would remind you that these devils seek to deny our liberties, and for this reason I have joined the conflict.
Yet I find myself embroiled in a different kind of conflict. It is a conflict of loneliness, as my heart questions not what I do, but what I have sacrificed to do it. I have given my life to a cause I believe in that carries countless threats. Every day I die for this cause, only to be reborn. And with my rebirth I am only more committed to the greater purpose I serve.
Today, I saw the sun rise in the west, mocking me for having lost my way amidst this death and carnage, for without your love as my compass, the path before me is uncertain.
Tell me, my love, when you look at the sky, what do you see? The sky before me, once so blue, is obscured by ominous grey clouds. These are the grey clouds of war, threatening to bring a storm of death and misery.
Oh, that I could take shelter from this storm in your arms, where the only thunder I hear is the thunder of your heart. I know that I will not find shelter from this terrible storm, for I am the shelter just as surely as I am the storm.
Soon enough we will be reunited. Until that time, I will persevere in this world that mocks us both, a world in which every day without you is a day I die.
- Your Truest Love, N"
The Old Guard: Tales Through Time
#4 - Love Letters
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whremii9 hours ago
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hbd sero! 馃槱馃馃従 to celebrate, have this small thing i been thinking about for a while now. enjoy <3
content 鈥 male!reader. cockwarming. anal penetration. fluff?
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hanta rested both of his hand on your hips, pulling you so that you were now half way on his lap. you lifted your hoodie up to your chest, showing off your leaking and twitching sex. your boyfriend chuckled at the sight.
"you don't need any prep baby?" hanta asked, looking up at you with tender eyes. you looked down to see his cock in hand, his fist wrapped around himself and jerking himself off at a steady pace.
you smiled, placing a kiss on the top of his head. "i'm okay hanta, just want you inside of me..." you moved yourself into his lap and then raised your body up a few inches.
sero nodded lightly and guided his cockhead to your hole. you sucked in a deep breath as you felt him stretch past your rim. hanta groaned and stopped himself from going any further yet, not until he made sure you were okay. before he could ask, you plopped yourself down on his lap, fully taking his cock. hanta's eyes widened in suprise and lets out a drawn-out moan.
you mewled, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and cursed under your breath as you felt his cock brush against your prostate. your cock rested between the both of you, rubbing slightly against the material of your boyfriend's shirt.
"fuck y/n..." your lover gripped your hips and moved them to your ass, gently kneeding with his long, slinder fingers. "you're really something else."
"yeah?" you kissed his nose and giggled, snuggling your head in his shoulder. "no moving until the movie is over, right?"
sero hummed in agreement and started the movie up, snuggling up into you closer.
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iwasgivenwings12 hours ago
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螘蟻蠅蟿喂魏萎 蔚蟺喂蟽蟿慰位萎 螕喂蠋蟻纬慰蠀 危蔚蠁苇蟻畏 蟽蟿畏 螠伪蟻蠋
[螒胃萎谓伪] 螝蠀蟻喂伪魏萎 蟺蟻蠅委. [29 危蔚蟺蟿蔚渭尾蟻委慰蠀 1940]
螠蠈位喂蟼 蟿蠋蟻伪 蟺萎蟻伪 蟿慰 蟺蟻蠅喂谓蠈 渭慰蠀 魏伪喂 未喂维尾伪蟽伪 蟿慰 纬蟻维渭渭伪 蟽慰蠀. 螒谓维蟽伪谓伪 蟺慰蠀 尉苇蟻蠅 蟺蠅蟼 苇蟻蠂蔚蟽伪喂 蟿畏谓 螤伪蟻伪蟽魏蔚蠀萎. 螖蔚谓 尉苇蟻蔚喂蟼 蟺蠋蟼 蟽蔚 蟺蔚蟻喂渭苇谓蠅. 螕喂伪蟿委 伪蠀蟿苇蟼 蟿喂蟼 蟿蔚位蔚蠀蟿伪委蔚蟼 渭苇蟻蔚蟼 蟽鈥 苇蠂蠅 蠁蟻喂蠂蟿维 蔚蟺喂胃蠀渭萎蟽蔚喂. 韦委 蟿伪 胃苇位蔚喂蟼, 蟽蔚 蟽蟿蔚蟻萎胃畏魏伪 蠈位慰 蟿慰 魏伪位慰魏伪委蟻喂 纬喂伪蟿委 萎蟽慰蠀谓 渭伪魏蟻喂维 魏伪喂 纬喂伪蟿委 委蟽蠅蟼, 渭鈥 蠈位蔚蟼 伪蠀蟿苇蟼 蟿喂蟼 伪谓蠈畏蟿蔚蟼 喂蟽蟿慰蟻委蔚蟼, 魏喂 蠈蟿伪谓 萎蟽慰蠀谓 伪魏蠈渭伪 魏慰谓蟿维 渭慰蠀, 未蔚谓 蟽蔚 蔚委蠂伪 蠈蟺蠅蟼 胃伪 蟿慰 萎胃蔚位伪. - 螌位慰 渭慰蠀 蟿慰 蟽蠋渭伪 蟺慰谓蔚委 伪蟺蠈 蔚蟺喂胃蠀渭委伪. 危魏苇蟺蟿慰渭伪喂 蟺蠅蟼 渭蟺慰蟻蔚委 谓伪 蟽蔚 魏蟻伪蟿萎蟽蠅 纬蠀渭谓萎 伪蟺维谓蠅 渭慰蠀 魏伪喂 蠈位伪 蠂维谓慰蠀谓蟿伪喂, 蠈蟺慰蠀 魏伪喂 谓伪 尾蟻委蟽魏慰渭伪喂, 蠈,蟿喂 魏伪喂 谓伪 魏维谓蠅. 螘委谓伪喂 伪蟽蟿蔚委慰 魏维蟺慰蟿蔚 谓伪 尾位苇蟺蠅 蟿慰谓 蔚伪蠀蟿蠈 渭慰蠀 蟽伪谓 苇谓伪谓 蠀蟺谓慰尾维蟿畏 萎 蟽伪谓 苇谓伪谓 蟿蠀蠁位蠈 蟺慰蠀 蟽蔚 蠄维蠂谓蔚喂 渭蔚 蟿喂蟼 蟺伪位维渭蔚蟼 伪蟺位蠅渭苇谓蔚蟼 魏伪喂 渭蔚 蟿伪 渭维蟿喂伪 魏位蔚喂蟽蟿维. 螘委渭伪喂 蔚位蔚蔚喂谓维 魏伪蠀位蠅渭苇谓慰蟼, 蠂蟻蠀蟽蠈, 魏伪喂 未蔚 蟽魏苇蟺蟿慰渭伪喂 蟿委蟺慰蟿蔚 维位位慰 蟺伪蟻维 蟺蠋蟼 谓伪 蟽蔚 纬伪渭萎蟽蠅 伪蟿苇位蔚喂蠅蟿伪 渭喂伪 慰位蠈魏位畏蟻畏 谓蠉蠂蟿伪.
螝伪喂 未蔚谓 渭蟺慰蟻蠋 谓伪 蟽慰蠀 纬蟻维蠄蠅 伪位位喂蠋蟼.
螕螜惟巍螕螣危
[违螕.] 螕蟻维蠄蔚 渭慰蠀 未蠀慰 位蠈纬喂伪 渭蠈位喂蟼 位维尾蔚喂蟼 蟿慰 纬蟻维渭渭伪. 螝伪喂 渭畏 尉蔚蠂谓维蟼 谓伪 纬蟻维蠁蔚喂蟼 蟽蠅蟽蟿维 蟿畏 未喂蔚蠉胃蠀谓蟽萎 渭慰蠀.
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tbh-logic3 hours ago
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I really like these :3
Anyway zabuza/obito!! For @narutorarepairweek Takes place in an au of mine where obito says fuck it and decides not to go back to madara or konoha and instead recruits the akatsuki as his own group to individually do what they can to help those around them. Kisame suggests obito searches out zabuza~
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pierremichelofavignon13 hours ago
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thoughts on tales through time: issue #4 - love letters
this issue contains depictions of racism (it uses the n word once, but i haven't included that panel below) and is fairly gory. proceed with caution. (i recognise i haven't been using warnings before when i maybe should have. apologies. if you ever need anything tagged/warned for please let me know)
spoilers under the cut!
so here's our nicky-centric story! i'm not going to talk about the issues i have with the general trend of overlooking joe throughout the anthology so far that much in this post since that's not just about this story specifically, but i do still have issues with it.
with that out of the way. i have mixed feelings about the art style here (mostly because no nicky will ever beat zanzibar and other harbors nicky in my opinion) but i did still like it.
what nicky's actually doing was a little confusing for me to figure out at first, but essentially he poses as a severely injured soldier in a confederate uniform who is then brought back to the camp for medical treatment. he collects information and then (in this specific instance) murders the soldiers and frees the slaves.
this issue, true to its name, is narrated by nicky in a letter to joe. here's the full thing (paragraphs / paragraph breaks added for ease of reading):
"My Dearest Heart,
Oh, the cruelty of this war that has taken you from my arms. I am lost without you, unable to find my way in a landscape of dying bodies and rivers of flowing blood. The world makes no sense. Up is down. Day is night. I trust that you are safe from the devils with which we wage war. I would remind you that these devils seek to deny our liberties, and for this reason I have joined the conflict.
Yet I find myself embroiled in a different kind of conflict. It is a conflict of loneliness, as my heart questions not what I do, but what I have sacrificed to do it. I have given my life to a cause I believe in that carries countless threats. Every day I die for this cause, only to be reborn. And with my rebirth I am only more committed to the greater purpose I serve.
Today, I saw the sun rise in the west, mocking me for having lost my way amidst this death and carnage, for without your love as my compass the path before me is uncertain.
Tell me, my love, when you look at the sky, what do you see? The sky before me, once so blue, is obscured by ominous grey clouds. These are the grey clouds of war, threatening to bring a storm of death and misery.
Oh, that I could take shelter from this storm in your arms, where the only thunder I hear is the thunder of your heart. I know that I will not find shelter from this terrible storm, for I am the shelter just as surely as I am the storm.
Soon enough we will be reunited. Until that time, I will persevere in this world that mocks us both, a world in which every day without you is a day I die.
- Your Truest Love, N"
there's also a second letter at the end:
"My Love,
I am weary and in need of rest. The nightmares that haunt my sleep have taken to dancing before my open eyes. The world remains upside down, just as the sun, lost and confused, once again rises in the west. The light of the sun remains hidden by the most grey of clouds. But I recall your wise words, telling me that though the sun may be hidden from sight, we can always take comfort in knowing that it is there, and it is only a matter of time time before it reveals itself, and burns away the clouds."
all in all, i really liked this one. it all felt very in character to me, with some parts reminding me almost of nicky talking to merrick and kozak in the movie - this scenario is more violent, but still has the same 'your time is coming' idea. see below (gore warning, this bit is pretty bloody):
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as much as i love gentle movie nicky, i do like this version of nicky. just a little bit terrifying. we didn't really get him being as kind as everyone always says he is (there is a brief moment where he directs the freed slaves to where joe and the others are) but i'm beginning to resign myself to the probability that the comics aren't going to back that up except in zanzibar and other harbors.
i did also like how it was framed as nicky writing to joe, as opposed to the other way around - joe spends a lot of time talking about how great nicky is without nicky doing the same as much. i'm glad we got at least some joe appreciation. he deserves it. i was going into this expecting a nicky centric thing, though, and that's what i got. and overall, i enjoyed it a lot.
one more thing: the story begins and ends the same way, with nicky half-dead in a battlefield. you get the sense he's done the same thing many times before, and in the letter to joe he expresses how tired he is of the war. i don't have much to say about this, i just like the theme of exhaustion with the constant battle. the story begins and ends the same way, and there is no clear end to the cycle, despite nicky assuring joe that they will be reunited soon. just, you know, things to think about.
there's also the implication that nicky is haunted in a way by the people he's killed, even if it was for the right reasons. this, generally, isn't explored very much in canon, but i like when it is - it shows how killing people does still affect them, even after this long.
anyway, that concludes this review post! see you next month for tales through time #5 - an old soul and never gets old!
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beggingwolf6 hours ago
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to get schmoopy about it, I hope fic writers know that the work they do leaves real impact on people. I still think about fics I read years ago. fanworks have had SUCH an impact on me and my life and so many are embedded into me along with my other favorite pieces of media.
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tosunsets15 hours ago
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The number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.
鈥 Mikko Harvey, from聽鈥淔or M,鈥 Foundry // Paintings by Malcolm T. Liepke
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cabnotaloveletter4 hours ago
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doing some random midnight sketches, and this is the caption-
I don't even know if this is funny in english 馃拃
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90sfilm5 hours ago
No pressure to answer but i was wondering how you got into screenwriting?
it鈥檚 kind of a long story but it鈥檚 mainly because of the taxi driver script. i know i sound like an annoying film student who wears layers of plaid and rolls cigs but that film is one of the most beautiful and godly things i鈥檝e ever seen, and the script even more so.
the way paul schrader described and narrated the story was so intimate and beautiful and disturbing. it showed me the film in an entirely different way and i ate that shit up. some of the quotes in there if you ever read it are seriously life changing and made me go insane in a really cool way.
scriptwriting styles can vary so wildly, and it鈥檚 always like you鈥檙e letting the audience in on a secret. the ocean鈥檚 eleven script has more jokes, the taxi driver script has more character insight, etc etc.
and while noticing that i realized that i wanted to be the person who鈥檚 script got highlighted by some bored teenager in his bedroom and well. here we are now <3
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thelonerdreamer3 hours ago
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writing without thinking
I'm craving to create a connection that transcends the capacity of just being human. I'm craving the small bits of softness words can offer, because I don't want my heart to be locked by fear of misunderstanding or some sense of worthless. I feel so scared of the odds, so scared of never having this one thing I'm deeply searching for. I wish I could have a guess, a single clue, but I have nothing but my own standards and desires. Is it so wrong to want it so much? I want something discomplicated, something simple but not fragile, something that comprehends my spectrum of introspection, the solitude that lives inside my heart. It feels like I have been waiting for so long and all that I know is the broken pieces of dellusion; sometimes it feels like it is slipping away, running through my fingers like sand and I can just not hold it. I feel that I deserve so much, but my mind just can not comprehend the deepness of this constant years without just one touch, one sign of reciprocity. The blank pages I use to write on knows me so well and maybe that's the reason why I love writing. I try to hold on to that perspective that, someday, someone will see right through me, and there will be no reason for me to hide from the unknown.
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teesumu7 hours ago
Wattpad memories 馃槶馃槶
ALSO YOU GOT A SAMSUNG AS YOUR FIRST PHONE?!?!
MINE WAS FUCKING SONY ERICSSON K55Oi 馃槶馃槶馃槶
HELP I HAD TO SEARCH IT UP FKSKDJDKFJ
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Nah but my grandma had a phone like this and she had this game like diamond rush or something THAT GAME WAS STRAIGHT FIRE BRO HOLY SHIT
I played that shit like every day on her phone and she was like 鈥淚 need to make a call鈥 and I was like 鈥渉ell no you don鈥檛, grannie, you gonna wait till I finish this level goodbye鈥 HELP DJSNDJDB
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guillemelgat18 hours ago
What is synesthesia and do you have it ?
Hi anon, thanks for asking lol (I'm guessing this is about this post, I definitely didn't explain anything there so good catch)
Here's the Wikipedia definition, to start:
Synesthesia (American English) or synaesthesia (British English) is a perceptual phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway.
Basically, what that means is that when you see, hear, smell, etc. a certain thing, it brings up another feeling/sound/sight in your head. That's a very vague definition because it's a very broad-reaching phenomena, but here are some examples of different kinds of synesthesia:
Grapheme-color synesthesia, where when you see different written characters (letters, numbers, etc), you get the sensation of a specific color as well (usually each character has a color)
Chromesthesia, where when you hear a certain sound, you get the sensation of a color (often with people with perfect pitch, they see different keys as different colors)
Spatial sequence synesthesia, where you visualize numbers as points in space/as a map (I'd never heard of this one before so I have less of an idea of how it works)
Auditory-tactile synesthesia, where hearing a certain sound might give your skin the sensation of being touched by something
Ordinal linguistic personification, where different numbers and letters give the sensation of different personalities, similar to grapheme-color synesthesia
Mirror-touch synesthesia, where if you sees someone else be touched somewhere, you feel the same sensation in their body
Lexical-gustatory synesthesia, where different words give you the sensation of different tastes
Basically, synesthesia is just your brain making random but consistent connections between two sensations, and it's pretty much only a useful thing, not usually a problematic one. For example, I have grapheme-color synesthesia and ordinal linguistic personification, both for letters and numbers but it's much stronger for letters. It makes it kind of fun to do things like sudoku because I can look at a box and pretty quickly figure out what number is missing if there's no green, or to remember dates and years because I have the very strong color association. The reason why I brought up the question is because I'm not sure how it transfers over to learning other alphabets, and from the one person who replied to that post it seems like the only way forward is just frustration and tears, but if anyone else has opinions lmk! Maybe over time it'll reform for a new alphabet and I can go back to reading normally.
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f0xfordcomma12 hours ago
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re:union (kataang week 2021) DAY THREE
re:union
chapter three: the avatar's girl
rating: G
words: 958
summary: "He wrote love letters. He wrote a lot of love letters. He told her how much he missed her, how much he wished she was with him, how much he wished he was with her, how much, how much, how much. He never sent them."
read it on ao3
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Three years.
They loved each other for three years after the war.
Then, for three years after that, they tried, tried, tried to stop.
The love never went anywhere, though. Not really.
He needed to go. She needed to stay.
She wanted to go with him, but the hospital needed her more.
He wanted to stay with her, but the acolytes needed him more.
Maybe this is for the best, they told each other. Maybe we both need time, space, to grow, to become ourselves. They had been young, everyone was not shy in reminding them, when they had gotten together. Perhaps, they had not yet been fully grown up. (Though, they both knew that this wasn鈥檛 true. They were young, yes, but they were grown. Had been grown. Had needed to be grown.)
He left, and she stayed, and they promised not to make any promises to one another. Not yet, not like this.
He wrote letters about his travels and the restoration process. He asked questions about irrigation and economics for Sokka to advise upon. He relayed funny anecdotes about the acolytes and the lemurs and, encouragingly, the newly discovered baby bison. He drew pictures of the views and sent along trinkets he found.
He wrote love letters. He wrote a lot of love letters. He told her how much he missed her, how much he wished she was with him, how much he wished he was with her, how much, how much, how much. He never sent them.
She answered his correspondences quickly, diligently. She鈥檇 get Sokka鈥檚 input. She鈥檇 share the stories with their friends. She鈥檇 include her own stories. Of the children she healed and the healers she trained. She pored over every word on every page he wrote. Her fingers tracing the looping scrawl of his handwriting. Wondering if the love, Aang held the multitudes that she read into it.
She went on dates. Four of them, to be precise, each one worse than the last. She was well past marrying age in the water tribes and the northern benders that came to study under her tutelage always asked about her status, seeming shocked that such a talented young woman was still single at 21. She resented the assertion that she was incomplete without a man nearly as much as she resented the fact that she felt incomplete without one, without him.
For all her great accomplishments, for all the ways that she was making a name for herself in her own right, divorcing herself from the lingering title of 鈥渢he Avatar鈥檚 girl,鈥 she knew, in the silence of the night, that it had been one of her proudest titles.
On the first date, with the shy son of a shopkeeper who worked with Lao Beifong, she had been asked about it. The night had been fine, the dinner had been fine, the conversation had been fine. 鈥淲ait! Aren鈥檛 you the Avatar鈥檚 girl?鈥 She hadn鈥檛 said no. (It wouldn鈥檛 necessarily be the truth.) She had left soon after, citing a stomachache. (It hadn鈥檛 necessarily been a lie.)
On the second date, with a young herbalist she knew from the hospital, she had been kissed. She had let him kiss her. He was kind. He was handsome. He held her hand and listened to her speak and told good jokes. He leaned in, she didn鈥檛 lean away. It was warm and wet and nothing.
On the third date, with a warrior from the Northern Water Tribe, she had felt his hand on her backside before they had even eaten. She left him frozen in an alley. She bathed twice, trying to erase the invisible mark of him. It felt like infidelity. It felt infuriating.
On the fourth date, with an Earth Kingdom diplomat, she鈥檇 fallen asleep in her soup. To be fair, she鈥檇 received an unexpected letter from Aang the night before. He was coming back. Cranefish City was being renamed, and he had done what he had sought to do at the temples, and he was coming back.
鈥 I can鈥檛 wait to see you. It has been too long.
Love, Aang
She couldn鈥檛 figure out if the you was singular or plural. The letter was addressed to her, but they all had been; she was the only one who checked the hawkery regularly enough to be trusted with important correspondence.
Love, Aang
She had stroked her finger over his name for three hours, feeling the indent in the paper where his quill had been. In the morning, she realized that her finger was marked black with ink, the words on the paper nearly rubbed away. She forewent her morning waterbending practice. The ink stain was still on her finger as she strolled down the wide boulevards of Cranefish City with the boring man from Ba Sing Se.
The two months felt, in some ways, longer than the three years had.
She waited. When the cicada-crickets had just started serenading the sleepy streets of the city and the water in the air thrummed heavily around her, he arrived. She was lugging a sack of produce from the market up toward the house in which she had been renting a room when she heard the groan, felt the shadow. The sack dropped from her arms, littering the ground with mangoes and cabbages.
She ran.
He was somehow taller, somehow broader. He had scruff on his face, a deeper sadness in his eyes, a stronger slant to his shoulders.
She wanted to hug him but she couldn't move from the spot.
She stared. Grey, grey, grey. Him.
Her mouth moved, her hand rose, her head was full of fog. A little wave. A little blush. 鈥淗i, Aang.鈥
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@kataang-week
thanks to my beta: @foxy-knowledgeseeker (you da best)
chapter one
chapter two
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teesumu22 hours ago
just wanna say ur interactions with sunny makes me laugh a lot 馃槶
wym laugh ??
you should be crying at how sad my life story is
i am a young woman in the big world trying to find my footing in life and she's cyberbullying me to the point that im simply broken and unmotivated
@inarizahki you suck im stealing kita so you'll be forever lonely goodbye its what you deserve
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fiendishpal15 hours ago
Hi, hello I just wanna drop by and say that the recent bokuaka comic is amazing as always 馃挅馃挅馃挅
thanks for taking the time to say so anon!!馃挅馃挅馃挅
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