#soft :')

[polinsated]

[klarsynt]

@warplanet din sent: in a quiet moment, din leans his helmeted forehead into emil's forehead and stays there, silent.

all the planets he has touched, the moons he has docked on, the satellites stationed upon, and emil swears there are no two sunsets that are alike. there is a serenity to watching blue skies erupt in overwhelming hues of glowing orange and bright pink. he is distracted by this one, hazel eyes taking on a warm, umber glint when he glances away from the fire in front of him. the smell of roasting food—the real kind: fresh meat, vegetables, spices—wafts around him, only cementing the rare, comfortable haze of the evening. he turns from the fire, ladle in hand to glance at din. emil grows still when the other man draws closer. it always makes his heartbeat stutter, his breath catch. his expression grows soft as the mandalorian's head tips towards his. cool metal kisses his brow. a small smile curls at his lips, subtle but there all the same. he lifts his free hand and curls his fingers around din's bicep.

❝ hey... ❞ his voice is a low rumble, the only other noise besides crackling flames and insects chirping nearby. slowly, emil trails his hand up his shoulder, to the side of his neck and then the back of it. index finger brushes past fabric so he can chase the warmth of skin. he shifts his touch, moves gradually just enough until he can feel his hair just underneath the edges of his helmet. he reaches behind himself without moving away so he can drop the ladle into the pot. with is other hand now free he reaches for din's side, fingers curling into the fabric at his ribs as if to anchor the both of them there. he breathes out slowly and allows himself to enjoy the moment, the scarcity of peace and quiet is odd considering how vast the galaxy is. but they lead rough lives. they must appreciate what they can get when it comes. and learn to let go when it is time to move. several moments drag on before he finally speaks again, a dry but teasing tone to his voice ❝ i stand here any longer the roast might burn. ❞

[cloudhymnarchived]

Caelus cannot help how his inquisitive gaze lingers, the Vidyadhara horns were ethereal in a way that made his gilded eyes widen. Even as March had adamantly reassured Dan Heng that no matter how his outer appearance changed he would remain the same Dan heng to them ! even if he were a cyborg ! or a giant, flying tortoise! Caelus had nodded along because it had felt important, however, it was hard to stifle his curiosity.

“ Are they uncomfortable ?” He cants his head, unable to entirely deny the fact that he did want to touch them, just a tiny bit.

“ yes. ” the response was instantaneous, truthful, but even so there was no defensive malice in his tone. it wasn’t the monotonous indifference people often mistook for dan heng’s regular speech pattern either, but soft reverence the archivist employed in tender moments with the people he cared for. the ordeal that had been visiting the luofu had ripped open wounds that were barely just starting to heal, ugly, sutured and poorly maintained wounds at that. the resurgence of his insecurities and the face he shared with dan feng brought bouts of dysphoria more tormenting than any threat of physical harm. this was the lunae form he had hidden precisely for that purpose.

at least here, on the safety of the express once more, dan heng could shake from his form the illusory cloudhymn and not feel eyes burning holes into the back of his neck, the weight of crimes long past heavy upon his shoulders.

the lost pride of the vidyadhara race had once been these horns, and this voluminous, majestic tail. the self doubt when it came to wielding his true form could not be swayed with one such reassurance, but there has never been any contempt or disappointment from the inquisitive light of caelus’ eyes. the archivist’s stony disposition always fractures with his presence, like sunlight cast onto plants, growing stubbornly through the sidewalk. “ but, not in the way that you think. ” they don’t hurt. was what he meant, hoping to convey that through an elegant lower of his head. “ go ahead. ” the long emanator’s, former dragon king of the luofu vidyadhara, bowing his crown in service of those he now regarded his new home.

@raytm.

[cloudhymnarchived]

@coffinsaint said   :   [Puts feet on the other’s lap] (cae)

          foreign.   why dan heng had never made a space for himself that had more permanence, why he had always kept his roots untethered, why he’d always preferred to keep his life in hand luggage. for so long, he had always viewed the astral express as foreign, even when he became aware of its inner workings, the dynamics with its passengers, because this was temporary ; there was no home for an exile. he would run for the rest of his life, this was the punishment he bore for the sins of his last incarnation. he had come to accept that, swallowing down the idea that he needed to remain vigilant, and that he must never be comfortable where he is. the last emanator of permanence could never be afforded his own namesake. that fact remained more bitter than even the dregs of himeko’s coffee, knowing he might never find a place he truly belonged.

          after leaving the xianzhou, stellaron crisis absolved, he would immediately rescind into his former appearance, horns and tail dissipating into the ether once more. long scion had, for some reason, expected all of them to treat him differently, as if they – too – could feel the weight yinyue had left upon his shoulders. but no ; march still continued to hide candies in the parlour’s second to last seat cushion, mr. yang’s morning coughing fits could be heard from across the hall in the mornings, and caelus resumed their evening reading sessions as if nothing was amiss. only the dim light of a monitor, playing documentaries on salsotto, lit up the archives. the gentle reflection of the water beneath makeshift bed making atmosphere peaceful, quiet. caelus had long since strewn legs over his own, and the comforting warmth of him had eased tension and doubt like the ebb of waves over scorching rock. the archivist’s gaze would glance, almost sleepily, over caelus’   ;   all easy smiles, ashen lashes, heat like a supernova dan heng once thought would consume him   (   maybe he’d let him one day.   )   they said that imbibitor lunae’s were destined for a jaded existence, the weight of lifetimes more cumbersome as one grew and grew. there was something in the way caelus looked at the world, at him, with fresh eyes and heart free of judgement that invoked a protective loyalty, a sense of belonging dan heng had never felt before, something profound, and more important to him than what fate had decreed for the shadow of a sinner.

          tentative hand reached out while star – kissed remained occupied by the video, the blue lights shifting over skin that seemed to speckle with cosmos. slow but more sure in his movements, his fingers weaved with caelus’. something that both ached and bloomed fluttered between his ribs.

          i’m home.

prompt.   🍁

[victoriams]

the sun had caught her eyes at just the right angle, and he remembers thinking that he’d never seen another person look quite so radiant –

selkielore on tumblr / in the kitchen, helena janecic / how to swim with her, andrés neuman / carry on, rainbow rowell / pride and prejudice, jane austin / fence: disarmed, sarah rees brennan / unknown / little women, dir. greta gerwig / on a train, wendy cope / never let me go, florence + the machine / unknown / tennessee williams / unknown / just before midnight, anne magill / mouthful of forevers, clementine von radics / peace, taylor swift / birsiyahhikayesi on tumblr / she keeps me warm, mary lambert / pema chödrön / this is how you lose the time war, amal el-mohtar and max gladstone / fleabag 1x04 ‘episode 4’ / little dog’s rhapsody in the night, mary oliver / letters to véra, vladimir nabokov / workingman’s blues #2, bob dylan / you’re my best friend, queen / kim english / new year’s day, taylr swift / i love you in sign language, bert heymans 

@riiseandfall

[keepfight1n]

@dscvrdbcttr asked: ∗ o9﹕ sender  falls  asleep  leaning  against  receiver . // bc soft mags

ㅤit had been a long day, and they hadn't made it as far as they should have. there weren't any obstacles . . . no undead, no hunters, no raiders. even still, night had taken their energy, and they were forced to set up out in the open. it was safe enough to build a fire, and the two of them had sat together to eat what little was left in their bags. tomorrow would be better. they would find food, a roof to settle under. for now, this would have to do. he hadn't even noticed how close she'd gotten, how warm his left side was, until he'd tried ( and failed ) to get her attention. " i think tomorrow we need to head west . . . maggie? " voice tapers off when he looks down to find her eyes closed, body slumped against his shoulder. though he isn't conscious of it, a small smile plays at the corners of his lips. he reaches over to pull her jacket a bit tighter around her shoulders. he adjusts her hat so it's covering her ears. her cheeks are pink in the glow of the fire, and he hopes it's because of the warmth instead of the cold.

[personnages]

ANDREI | starter for Pierre, at @skyjci

In winter, Bogucharovo was quiet. The long rows of straight pines and birches stretched between the flat fields covered in snow, both smudging and distinguishing the far-away horizon. The stone house had finally been completed and was now suitable for winter, so it was here that Prince Andrei and his family had come for the season, instead of the capitals. 

The crunch of runners signaled a visitor, and little Nikolushka -- seven now -- ran outside to see who it was. The sunlight was muffled by the grey sky, but it glinted off the frame of Pierre’s spectacles. Prince Andrei put on his coat and went outside to help Countess Marya down from the troika, then turned to Pierre and smiled. “How unexpected,” he said affectionately, leading them both inside. “Come in, but why have you come out here? I’d thought you were in Moscow.”