REN!! 💙💙🤍🤍

                       Same in Russian                   

bienchanter replied to your post “Latvian pun game is so weak, but sometimes I gotta wonder how on Earth...”

                       Mmmmm, those two words are kinda similar in portuguese   (amêndoa and amídala), so there's definitely something going on.

diaphonie replied to your post  “Latvian pun game is so weak, but sometimes I gotta wonder how on Earth...”

                       wait really? what?                  

probably stalking staff members and rewatching the preview trying to look for some kind of hope even tho in the back of my head im really expecting the worst

yooooooooo

cohabitation

fake dating

umbrellas

enemies to lovers

shopping scenes lmao

I mean firstly, Wook and Won killed Moo. Secondly, he never asked her to be anything more than a friend... he never told her he loved her or put her in the position where she would feel pressured to think of him as more than a brother. He never kept her in a cage? Thats literally what So did by confining her to the Palace, he let her out. 

And he never made her marry him even though he had the power to for years, he simply had made an escape route for her which he knew she might need with Yo or So in power. If she had wanted to leave him at any time he would probably have let her. He even helped her send love letters to So the entire time. 

The war came back to him when he slept; the eyes of the dying, the pull of the trigger, the blood that spattered against his face. He was not a man of innocence, too many bodies on his conscience and too many scars to remind him of the carnage. 

He waded through the trenches of his nightmares, trying to find the way back, the way out, but it pulled and tugged and pushed him until he was at the bottom again, where he would scream, cry, and rip at himself with his bare hands. He couldn’t say how many times he apologized to the nameless faces in those nightmares, but he tried knowing he wouldn’t be forgiven. 

When he woke, she was there, a cool and damp cloth pressed against his face and a lullaby slipping from her lips. His head rested in his lap and his chest heaved. “I am here, my So,” she would whisper. “Come back to me.” 

He focused on her face, his bright star guiding him back home. Soon, the nameless faces faded into the darkness and he remembered he was not at war. He was at home, in the bed he shared with his wife, and their daughter sleeping in the next room. “I am here, my Soo,” he whispered when his heart resumed a normal pace, “I’ve come back to you.” 

In the morning, he would watch her sleep, as the sun began to rise. Her soft breath fluttered the hair that fell across her face, her eyes flickering underneath the lids as she dreamed, sweet ones so unlike the ones he had. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her lips. His star, his only sun, chasing away his dark.