promisebound - a term for oneself & one’s partner(s) are bound, intertwined, linked, etc. together by promises/a promise.
partner in this case isn’t inherently romantic.
symbol source.
term/flag by us. for @szpdboy. tagging @radiomogai & @boundedly.
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promisebound - a term for oneself & one’s partner(s) are bound, intertwined, linked, etc. together by promises/a promise.
partner in this case isn’t inherently romantic.
symbol source.
term/flag by us. for @szpdboy. tagging @radiomogai & @boundedly.
Out of bullets;
I'll be stalking tumblr a bit today, while I attend the Earth Bound Papas concert at Onicon (Galveston, TX!) X3 If I have a moment, I shall work on tags, but it will mostly just be creeping on my lovely followers. If I tagged you here, that means you are next in the replies line~
Wish me luck! (My japanese is so rusty, I have no idea how well I will conduct myself at the after party around such awesome people ajfhsijddj but I will try.)
PS: If anyone would like my skype info, especially those people I am writing with, feel free to shoot me a message! (My phone has skype 8D)
"I trust you, Vincent."
He turned to face the young woman behind him and let his eyes flicker across her form before responding first, with a nod. "And I you." It was true. Vincent had come to trust all of his friends with his life. Perhaps not with his feelings, all of his past, and his valuables, but most certainly with his life. Tifa herself…she was one of the few he felt that maybe — Maybe if he ever decided that he was truly done with his penance, he could open up to. She was patient and kind, did not judge others quickly. She did her best to make others feel comfortable and accepted. Yes. She just might someday hear the bitter tale of one, Vincent Valentine in full.
[ Oh! Never thanked you for following me back. Thanks so much! ]
ooc;
Oh no, it’s my pleasure! Thank you for the follow in the first place. <3
➹
Hyne, I could go for a really good drink right now. Or two.
Tifa had spent the evening prior baking to her heart's content and settled on an assortment of cookies, sweets were always her specialty. A basket, flourished with a bow, was presented to him with decadent delights just for him. "I know I often do not see you eat, but perhaps you could share this with someone or indulge yourself. Happy Birthday, my friend." She kissed his cheek quickly and pushed the basket unto him.
The gift, mayhaps, that was expected because it's came to be so every years that people feel the need to remind me of the occasion in which I shall never grow older and of the others who shall. It was also the a reminder toward that one simple, and mostly unspoken truth-- a blessing toward others, if not this man-- the black ride, unless I am the one to settle the score and let the whole world burn.
The awaiting rest.
The swift kiss, however, was unexpected. I glanced down at the basket of treats in my hands. Its presence reminded me of another individual from another time, of summer's breeze and honeysuckle peppered kisses. "Lockhart." My voice was bade low, remaining akin to the wind in my hair that moved on to toy with her hazel strands, as I shook my head. "This is too much."
"And I don't really have a plan." Or admittedly, there hasn't really been a plan that would allow all these treats an opportunity to be shared with anyone unless you can count all the three Cats back at this man's place. Do cats even eat sweet? Saving for one Vincent Valentine, the man highly doubt it goes well with the species' digestive system.
A ghost of a smile graced her lips when noticing he accepted the device; the ravenette was pleased, however, the hint of joy was languidly depleted from scarlet, soulful depths. "He has a new one, besides, we have yours programmed with a new number.. seems Yuffie wouldn't leave him alone either." Soft words were nearly muted at the end of the conversation, "You've been taking care of yourself, hm?" It felt best to steer the topic to another direction.
"Would I have imagine...", I chuckled-- the sound, having been caught beneath thick drape of maroon, was most likely lost. The thought about the other brunette within this little disfunctional group I have came to call 'comrade', however, would likely remain till the end of time-- much to my chargin.
"I am well, Lockhart, if that's what you are asking."
"How's the little brat-- of course, beside the usual?"