[cranberyy]

username + number :: atlasunavailable + 933049
kalon name ::
prompt :: (tell me about their love language, 500 words)

[strawberrymwilk]

mark

[Toxic Wolf]

username + number :: toxic wolf + 123982
kalon name :: - Saphilia

prompt ::

Musings on my Nature in Love
Saphilia is my name
The meaning weaved of two words,
With a meaning to many
But many too few
Would know the meaning of my name
For so many liken the heart of love
With the passion and tender heat of a flame

My mother is the goddess of love
So I suppose I should know a thing or two
My childhood was in no way loveless
Filled to the brim with “I love you”
But a confession is
That I never really knew
The meaning of the words
Out of my lips, they just flew

I have always felt love, known it
But hardly have I known how
I spoke it
When I love, do I pray, lay, kiss, bow?
These questions haunted me
In truth,
They daunted me
I was born of and in love
It seemed completely wild
That this simple question
Would have me so riled

It led me to doubt
And to realise that doubt
Is the love-killer
At least its greatest, just about
For my love for myself weakened
When I no longer trusted
My own heart
And it rusted

No, not quite rusted
I pumped it, hammered it
Tried to spill out all its contents
For it to tell me, pouring out as I hit
How my love was spoken
Could you find my love in gifts?
The greatest gift of all, in my presence?
Was my touch my vessel?
My acts of selflessness?
With love all around me,
It is hard to see
Anything but it
Do you understand my plea?
The question of where
Does the love of all
Become my love, my flair?

But these are not words of despair
For the journey was pleasant, in truth
When I stilled, and stopped pumping,
And realised that in calm and soothe
I could find my heart again
Overworked and in need of
Someone who could translate it
And bring it the peace of love

In those moments
It became clear to me, like a breeze
That the language of my love
Is stillness and ease

The inherent peace and safety
Of a loving relation
The moments of ease in an
Otherwise busy, hectic world
The acceptance, open and ready,
For even these words, losing their rhyme.
My love language can have many forms,
vowels, spellings, vocals, speeds.
But common to it all is this
The moment of embrace
A smile that lasts a few seconds longer
The safety of accountability
To the truth of another person
The forgiveness
Of mistakes of which we all are kin
Protecting the space where
My loved ones develop their identity
And self, so that they
Can feel as at ease and in love with themselves
As I am

This is the essence
Speaking the stillness and ease
For others and myself
To be comfortable in their own skin
Because to me, there is no greater form of love
Than the room to soar and fall.

(496/500)

[trans]

username + number :: trans + 423895
kalon name :: nevy
prompt :: [ 500 words ]

everyone loves differently, yet similarly. we are unique and individual, yet at the same time, mirrors of one other. it's part of what makes us so special.

you have always found your calling in many areas; your self expression and your methods of showing love, in particular, as varied as the kalons that surround you. bound to no one thing, you feel free to explore, free to choose.

however, you would be a liar to say there is not one way you prefer to display your affections...

painting. oh, how you love to paint; but not on a traditional canvas. no, no, no. the painting you enjoy is different. for your love is the brush, and with it you show your loved ones just how much they mean to you, how special they really are.

everyone's different, so everyone gets their face painted differently. for your lover, it is flowers; flowers as pink and delicate as the soft blush they grow when they catch your wandering glance. moths and butterflies, to represent their free spirit, and their warmth. their warmth, like the sun, that draws you in like a moth to a flame... you cannot help but be lost in their eyes, their smile, the way their face wrinkles when they give you that look of pure love that you cant live without anymore. they are the bright, resplendent spring to your frigid, desolate winter.

for your father, it is a sturdy foundation; a solid color, but only at first. for soon, there are the faint featherings that resemble a lion's mane on the sides of his face, for he has been so brave where you couldnt have been for yourself. fuzzy, round bees are painted near the tired corners of his eyes, crinkly and aged by life, by time. for even when someone had their rough spots, he abandoned no one; no one ever had to face the world alone, when they had a whole hive behind them to support them, your father the hardest working one there was, to repair the fractures in your family. he brought colorful harmony to the gray, bleak mindspace that consumed you when you were young.

for your best friend, it is books; books with words that almost fly out of the pages, because she has so many favorite sayings and poems, and you always listen in earnest as she tells you what they mean, and where she learned it from. forget-me-nots that grow from her hairline and frame her face, because she's so forgetful, so so forgetful, but she never forgets what truly matters, and blue is her favorite color; blue like the sky, like the sea, like belle's commoner dress from beauty and the beast. she is the belle of this world, among the tiny space you all occupy in it, never forgetting to make you feel wanted, to feel seen.

it pays very little, but that is not why you do it...

you do it out of love, after all.

[Ucanthandleme]

username + number :: Ucanthandleme + 809102
kalon name :: Mercy
prompt ::

It was cold. A frigid icy touch, a lover's hand gone dead. He grasped tightly, a hold so strong they tried to pry his fingers from the hand to no avail. His lifeline in this moment was this touch, this moment with his hand against his lovers, but it was cold. He could not help but crouch, the hand cradled in his own as he held it to his forehead, hot tears streamed down. He was crying, bawling, perhaps he was even screaming in the moment but he could not hear, all he knew was that his eyes burned and throat felt raw, his cries left for the world to hear but he could not hear his own.

He remembered the warmth that once came with the now lifeless hand. A trickle of sunlight in his palm, a movement, a grasp, finger intertwined and his lover's bright smile as they walked together. Words of sweet nothings could not be applied to their relationship as he had never been able to hear, but to them this was no barrier. Just a touch, one filled with warmth and love was all that was needed. Their language was only known to themselves, a caress of a cheek was a great affair, a hug brought great comfort, a strong grip created longing and a smile showed great care. All of this is a love language of their own, the language of touch.

But now it is gone. The smile, the grip, the hug, the love, the touch. All of it was gone in a moment. Perhaps he did not wish to believe, believe in the truth in front of his eyes. All he remembered was their language. So he grasped his lover's hand, gave a smile between the torrent of tears and gently caressed their cheek. Hoping waiting, waiting for the return of touch…it did not come. Slowly releasing his hand from his lover he used his fingertip to trace the outline of their face in one last lover's touch, and all that he could think. It was cold.

Mercy looked at the picture longingly, the love of his youth that he had thought would last forever. He had not been able to hear since birth but since that day he too could not feel the warmth of a touch. Perhaps his mind did not wish for him to forget, forget the love who took his heart, the love who took his touch, a warm hand that held his own. A curse perhaps, his love language, because once it had been broken he could never get it back. But that did not matter, he thought as he looked at the letter before him. A letter from his son, their child. A language of words that conveyed one's love to another. A language that would never disappear even after one's love was gone.

(478/500)

[WiltedLovers]

username + number :: WiltedLovers + #925269
kalon name :: Isebella
prompt ::

Isebella looked down at her notepad and looked back up at the question that was being asked to her. “Love langue you say?” She smiles slightly and presses a paw on her notebook. With a short little giggle she passes you her notebook. “It’s most definitely little notes or even short little pieces of paper with words on them. You see when I am in a relationship with someone I like to right down the goods and the bads about them and how good they are too me or what they need to work on. Then I will either give them a full notebook, or a jar full of little notes. Sometimes in these jars I put little random gifts that remind me of them!” She had let out a embarrassed laugh and took back her note book. “I know it isn’t what others think would be good, but that’s just how I am.” She smiled and turned around to walk away.

[Griff]

username + number :: Griff 254592
kalon name :: Melody aka "Teddy"
prompt :: Her voice had never belonged to hers, a condition she had been born with. This never hindered Melody, but it did mean she had to get creative at times to show others what she was thinking or how she felt about them. She was not a rich person, so gifts were out of the question. And she was a touch sickly, so her hands could not make anything intricate or play music. So what was left?

She opted over time to keep it simple: a hug. Despite her lack of energy and frail energy, she would pour everything she has into her hugs, letting her emotion show through her actions. Be it a soft touch, a bear hug, or the sort of hug one can wrap themselves into she is a master of them all, and each is given to those she cares about when she can. For those who do not like contact? She will hug the air, or make a heart-shape and then hug the air.

It was in this way she earned the nickname "Teddy" as her hugs were like a warm teddy bear's!

[dragonstars]

username + number :: dragonstars+865902
kalon name :: Angel
prompt ::
It's quite simple really, Angel's love language is hand holding, forehead kisses, and hugs. Angel has a hard time conveying emotions, and showing love with others, But these 3 helps her convey her love with the one she loves. She had grew up in a family that barely showed love or emotions, which, had sadly , made her do the same, but over time, she started to show more emotion with the help of her friends.

[Mima]

username + number :: mima, #819472
kalon name :: lily
prompt ::

"your hair is so beautiful," mumbled salvia, still half-asleep, "do you ever do anything with it?"

"not often. why?"

"just wondering," she replied, all the while conspicuously reaching over to touch it. her hand sunk in like it was soft winter snow, and she found herself gathering together strands and rearranging them the way she would a bouquet; folding one section over another, loosely forming together braids, or pulling it up in a mock-ponytail. there was just so much of it.

a shiver shot down lily's back as salvia's hand brushed the nape of her neck.

"oh- sorry," salvia stuttered, pulling her hand back.

lily brushed her own hand through her hair, though her face was now colored with an awkward, rosy blush. "oh, uh, it's... fine. i don't mind. it just... surprised me." she stumbled over her own words, not quite sure how to put it best.

silently, again, and with a smile- salvia went back to playing with lily's hair.

(and lily silently leaned in a little, the warmth of her blush extending into salvia's warm and fluffy shoulder.)

[Mnemosyne]

username + number :: Mnemosyne & 249050
kalon name :: Rianthe
prompt :: Rianthe spots her crush from across the room. Butterflies bloom in her chest, threatening to choke her, but it's not an altogether unpleasant sensation.

'Breathe, girl,' she tells herself, taking a deep breath before heading over. Rianthe drops into the seat next to her crush, leaning over casually. She hopes.

"What's up, loser?" she says. The words are out of her mouth before she can take them back, and Rianthe cringes internally. Luckily, her crush smiles and replies, and soon they're deep in a conversation about a TV show that the two of them have both been keeping up with lately.

"I don't know," Rianthe mutters. "There's literally nothing you could pay me to spend a whole month on a desert island. All that sand? Gross!"

Her crush giggles. "Wouldn't it be kind of fun though? Lounging around in the sun, gathering food, making a fire..."

Rianthe has a sudden vision of the two of them on a beach, shaded by a palm frond as they sip from coconuts. 'I think I could work with that,' she thinks, but what comes out instead is "I'd rather take a vacation in a volcano. At least it'd be equally hot."

Gods, but her brain-to-mouth filter is completely broken. Rianthe is ready to bury herself in the ground, but her pity party is interrupted by her crush's bell-like laughter.

"I'll book us a trip, then. Next weekend work for you?"

Rianthe blushes down to the tip of her ears. "I hate you."

From the soft smile she gets in return, Rianthe knows that she's being completely seen through. Something warm and fuzzy swells in her chest. Normally her rough, sarcastic exterior, the jokes that she makes constantly, are taken at face value. But now she's found someone who understands her, truly and fully.

"How are you?"

"I want to spend time with you, wherever it is."

"I love you."

[ 316 / 500 ]