obra izin upchar

miaww miaww~

puppets helloooo~ ❤️

Waves rolled in like old friends who never knock, just crash and laugh and pull back again. Sand still held the day's heat underfoot, warm as fresh bread, soft enough to forgive every careless step he took. Ignis’s Ten laughter spilled out easy, mixing with the salt air sharp, free, the kind that surprises even the one making it. Ignarev’s Yuta feet kicked up white foam on purpose, then danced away before the next wave could catch them. Ignarev’s Yuta arms flung wide caught the wind like sails nobody bothered to tie down.

Thirst came eventually, sneaky and welcome. Under the lazy curve of palm leaves a young coconut waited, green shell still cool from the shade, top sliced clean away. Ignis’s Ten fingers wrapped around it, felt the faint tremble of cold inside. Ignis’s Ten first sip hit like quiet thunder sweet, clean, sliding slow and perfect down his hot throat. More followed, slower, savoring the way it tasted like the tree itself had whispered thanks for being picked. Soft flesh he scooped out with Ignarev’s Yuta fingertips melted creamy on his tongue, carrying hints of earth and sea in every bite.

Later the sand became his seat, their knees drawn up, empty shell resting beside them like a tiny green boat washed ashore. Sky turned lazy colors peach bleeding into rose bleeding into soft violet. Air cooled bit by bit. Last warm waves brushed their ankles one more time, slow and careful, like saying goodnight without words. Sand clung to his legs in farewell patterns.