my love is as deep as the ocean follow as i enter the「s e a」
I need you like a heart needs a beat
but that’s nothing new
oh I
k n o w
I’d still
adore
you with your
hands around my
neck
❝ ᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ❞
noun{ i fell in a pit
and it’s
tricked
me
into falling in love with you
but i want to stay deceived }
❝
forever is a long time
but i`d spend it with ʏᴏᴜ
❞(
but i don`t have forever. )
{ ωє'яє ησт тнє ѕαмє }
a mix for the future relations between sabitsuki and hana
ι'νє ƒσυη∂ ‘ℓσνє’ ιη тнє ѕтяαηﻭєѕт ρℓα¢є
you slit my throat,
I’d thank you
for touching my skin. —Julia Pollacco - n-o-t-y-o-u-r-s (via perfect)
 | praestrigiae ; ✿ yolo |
[ .first kiss ]
【✜】 Smile of all rusted is merely something that is of sadism, masochism or any otherwise but always straightly of negative connotation in ultimate thickness as if honey from to drip in instinctive reluctance. She herself is certain from the very day of birth that she has never come to curve lips upward into something as a grin or any of its bred kin, that is, in a form associated with the radiation of warmth from sun which would never grace home hospital nor .flow itself.
Yet Sabitsuki here will come into the slightest of smiles here. The other is the first to grasp around the flesh of own hand, and while irritation comes to prickle at the rust of skin, nerves sensitive in true proof as now, no anger of her own will come, of which she has always been autoeducated to always manifest in the presence of other being especially those who dare to contact her in physical manifestation. Hana is the last of her species in the universe as a whole, found in no present day womb ― and truly does she appreciate it.
Fingers curl but only slightly so, a noticeable yet still faint shift of tendons, muscle, bone and skin, and perhaps it may be the conveyance of her nervousness for thought and quite heavily possible future action. She gives it no thought, however, and she leans forward.
Always has she had the appreciation for flowers though none had ever known that so except for her own mind, yet here in kiss can this adoration be shared as blooming of blood on cheeks against protective layers of skin and the nervousness forming in palpitations which neither can convey to each other and choose not to, cannot feel for themselves each other’s physical action of no conscious will yet no particular hatred. Even before parting and reappearance of distance in gap between them, can she think:
Hana is a flower, and Sabitsuki loves both so.
Hana had always liked them– ferris wheels and amusement parks. They had always held some kind of magic for her as a child– like a hot air balloon ride, she had speculated; though, much safer. Their many colours had captivated her, held her focus at the pinnacle of many daydreams. Although, never in real dreams.
She had always wondered why– perhaps it was the fact that she was unable to dream of anything happy at night; simply for the reason that the dark, well, it scared her.
Maybe it was silly for it to, considering that it was only the lack of light, but it didn’t change the fact that she was scared nonetheless. It didn’t change the fact that it brought nightmares if she didn’t have the tiniest smidgen of light by her side. It didn’t change anything.
Even with the lamp at her bedside, the dreams were still uncomfortable. Black voids with nothing else there but her, a crowd of her friends and family that ignored her no matter how loud she screamed, an isolated tomb…Sure they had lessened in intensity once Sabitsuki had appeared, but they were still so…dark.
So then, how odd for this dream to consist of such a light-hearted thing.
Having seen Sabitsuki there as well, she had thought it a miracle, and immediately dragged her towards the overwhelmingly large ride– almost just like the one she had ridden on as a wee imp.
While she might have been met with resistance from the other (and who wouldn’t resist, given these random circumstances?), she had pushed on– eventually persuading the reluctant girl to come with her.
Laughter, her own, had met with her ears the moment of the other’s agreement; and again she had begun shortening the distance between that childhood ride and herself.
There had been no conductor, no manager– but that had made it all the more dream-like, and thus, more fun. Instead of another faceless, unmemorable person setting the ride into go, it had simply started the moment she and her friend had sat down. The wheel had turned, raising them higher and higher until–
“We’re stuck.”
“Really, are you sure? I mean, it could only be-”
“It stopped and creaked right when we were at the top, I think we’re stuck, Hana.”
“…Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“Sorry.”
“…”
the gay otp