It’s not like there’s an on or off switch.
i’m not mad just--- wait til the kid gets picked up by the babysitter i mean youre gonna get dicked alright just be Patient
Three Goblin Art
Sade Olutola
AnasAbdin
hello vonnie
styofa doing anything
todays bird
trying on a metaphor
RMH
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

roma★

oozey mess

Product Placement
Peter Solarz
art blog(derogatory)

Discoholic 🪩
Xuebing Du

we're not kids anymore.

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@vonrittern-blog
It’s not like there’s an on or off switch.
i’m not mad just--- wait til the kid gets picked up by the babysitter i mean youre gonna get dicked alright just be Patient

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And now I’m just going to put sascha in a time out.
don’t be a horndog when uzura is in the house
some birds sing when the sun shines bright my praise is not for them but the ones who sing in the dead of night i raise my cup to them
ind. melodie / “allegra” roleplay written by autumn
❝ —– I don’t know. ❞
“I think she would have fun with that. She has new rain boots she wants to jump around in.”
❝ — Fakir. It’s snowing. ❞
“Do you want to play in puddles with Uzura once it stops?”

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“I live with someone who doesn’t appreciate bookporn. Do you realize how hard distressing that is?”
“I appreciate it plenty, but you reading it aloud at me has created unfavorable situations. Next time you read a leather daddy out of a fucking Supernatural fanfic I’m not writing him back in. Deal with him yourself.”
❝ — But…Fakir… it knows my name. It called me ❛ Prince. ❜ What if it knows more…? I — I want to ask it what it knows. ❞
“There isn’t anything more you need to know. You already know more than you should have ever learned. If you were clueless, you would be safe. Go to bed.”
❝ —– There was a voice… MOANING… it’s calling to me… ❞
“You don’t need to listen to voices that aren’t mine. Go back to bed.”
@schwxnprinz
“Mytho. Where do you think you’re going? It’s almost curfew.”
arms full of fabric, marinette made her way towards her workshop with little success, constantly wobbling and straying side-to-side. she just hoped to make it to the room before the inevitable happened and she tripped. ❛ gwah! ❜ too late. but instead of the cold impact of the floor, marinette’s cloth seemed to have discovered a new mannequin. hesitantly, length of electric blue cotton was removed from the other’s head, revealing the boy beneath.
❛ oh no…i’m so sorry, fakir! uh, if it helps any…i need you to come try on your costume? ❜ idiot marinette!
@vonrittern
Fakir patience for the students he was forced to interact with dwindled with each passing day. Once upon a time, he may have truly enjoyed this school and all it has to offer. When he was younger, more innocent, less walled off from those around him. Fakir at age six would have adored this place. Fakir at fifteen simply remains here because it is a place of relative safety for Mytho - and even that is questionable, with Tutu running amok and other, far darker forces lingering just beyond his line of sight.
Wth the fabric removed from his head, Marinette is met with a glare - not unusual, given his expressions are always sour in some capacity.
“Your lucky your designs are unique enough for the department’s interest.” He chides, a sigh escaping his lips. “Otherwise your clumsiness would have gotten you kicked out of school ages ago. How many times can you trip into someone before they begin to think it’s purposeful assault? Be more careful or I’ll report it as such.”

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So new and fresh is the heart that now rests within his chest that it leaps to the sight of such a youthful, fervent flush upon Fakir’s cheeks. He’s very beautiful for a boy, he always has been…but something about this moment shared between them perfectly frames that beauty. Even a KING buckles in the face of it, feeling his own cheeks flush with warmth as slender digits are cupped between calloused, writer’s fingers. Each brush of those fingers over the back of his palm sends his heart into a flurry of rapid flutters. Fakir is like a different person in this world — different, yet the same. His harsh demeanor and bitter fears have settled beneath reassurances, and a gentle desire to protect those whom he loves…yet, he still exhibits the habits of old. The frustration that grips him as his own fingers grip his nose, the sharp sighs and tension in his temples…something ails him, and nothing could be more upsetting to Siegfried than the interruption of such happiness in his LOVER —
Thin hands rose as they were released, cupping the jaw of the Knight at either side, and loosing the grip of those fingers between his eyes. Urging his gaze back to his Prince, he would soon find a tender thumb running the length of his cheekbone, beneath his eye, the golden orbs reflecting forests of rich green laced with a deep worry. ❝ — FAKIR. There is nothing more important to me than you, and Rue, and Ahiru. My most important work is ensuring your happiness here — my most welcomed distraction, really. Something is troubling you…isn’t it? ❞ Perhaps it was selfish of him — but he wanted to know, wanted to help to dispel whatever worries Fakir held within his heart. The only way he knew how…perhaps it, too, was selfish. Drawing the Knight close by his jaw, pallid lips once more press tenderly to tiers far darker, eyes closing to focus every ounce of his heart into the warmth, adoration, and assurance of the kiss. His love, his devotion, his passion — every piece of his heart made whole bleeds between their lips, Siegfried’s moving in slow rhythm over Fakir’s.
He’s become so disgustingly easy to read in recent months and it has been both a blessing and a curse. Being so transparent allows him to get his feelings for his lovers across, even though he himself is often at a loss for words when he is with them. They can know he loves them through his actions, his expressions, even if speaking words of romance is difficult for him to do. At the same time, though, there are times - like now - where he wishes he could steel himself completely once more and not worry them with his emotions.
He shouldn’t wish for that and he knows it. The last thing he wants is to lie to them, even if the lie is one of omission. But if he could omit his own fears and uneasiness for the sake of their happiness, he would certainly be tempted...
“Forgive me,” he pleads softly, resting his head against Mytho’s midsection, eyelids slipping closed in an attempt to organize his thoughts. Stubborn and action-prone as Fakir is, he’s always been capable of calculated, rational thought, but now, it feels as though... there is someone else in his head, sharing the reigns and throwing him off track. “I worry you so frequently, these days... I don’t mean to, I don’t...”
“Have you ever felt... a longing for something you’ve never had? A recollection of a place so vivid you could smell it, feel it, pick apart very color, but you’ve never been to such a place...” His throat feels tight, and he puffs out a breath before continuing.
“Sand between my toes after you make me take off my boots. Running along the waterfront, down an old dock, the air thick with morning fog and stinking of fish from boats returning from trips out to sea. The sight of a foreign kingdom as sunlight broke and fog cleared and birds moved across the skyline, Mytho, I remember it all so clearly, but I don’t know where the images come from. This isn’t the only time it’s happened and I don’t understand any of it.”
--- in response to @erzahler here.
“You’re doing it again. You’re telling me what’s best for me without letting my opinion on the topic matter. You aren’t my father, Sascha - you’re my housemate. The only time you’re allowed to tell me what to do is when I’m stumbling drunk, and you know how rare that is. Why won’t you just listen to me for five seconds before shunning the idea?”
He isn’t the most romantic person on the planet. He’s bad at I love you’s and valentines gifts. As far as he’s noted, Sascha should appreciate that - he wasn’t wooed by pick up lines or fancy gifts, he looked to be the type who’s prefer a quiet night in over a gaudy, fancy night out on the town. Fakir doesn’t want to push the subject for fear of verging on forcefulness, but it’s painful that Sascha refuses to even hear him out.
“My longest relationship ended with Uzura. It ended because her mother didn’t want her after she was born and she hated me for choosing my beautiful, helpless newborn daughter over her. Any relationship I’ve had since has ended because people can’t put up with my bullshit. Sascha, I love you, but you have to understand that you aren’t the only one in this room who’s been through some shitty relationships.”
Realizing his tone, he steps further away, gives Sascha his space and lowers his voice. He doesn’t want to sound angry, because he isn’t angry - he’s confused and hurt and he just wants Sascha to know he doesn’t have to be alone.
“...you’re so amazing, Sascha - you have a lame taste in movies and you read some really nasty porn, but you’re so amazing, you can’t even see it. Those people who hurt you don’t know what they’re missing out on, what they gave up when they did that to you. You are so talented - you’re smart, you hold yourself well, you always have your nose tucked into a book but you look so beautiful while you’re doing it. You’re so caring, when you let people in... Uzura adores you and Vanyel and Gawain.”
“Why... why can’t you just see how much you mean to us? To me? You’re- You’re a giant mess and a dork, but you and I... click, don’t we? Your weird and my weird clicks... doesn’t it? If I’ve done something to scare you away, please tell me so I can apologize, make up for it, something! I just - I just want you to know how important you are.”
ɪ was foolish. ɪ was reckless. ɪ was careless. &&. ɪ am so, so sᴏʀʀʏ.
─── &&. ɪ never wanted to ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.
🚣
Mega Fluff Meme! Send a symbol, and my muse will… | not accepting.🚣 Take your muse for a quiet night out on the lake | @sieliebte
Lakes have, to this point in Fakir’s life, been places of high dramatic tension and disaster. He has almost died in a lake, saved only by one rogue puppet burning herself so that he could guide himself from the darkness. He nearly lost Ahiru and Rue to a lake, one made of liquified despair. He has cried by lakeside and had many a revelation there as well.
It is nights like this that Fakir is thankful for the peace that has bled into their lives. Within the confines of this now-happy story, Fakir is free to enjoy the beauty of it all, and share in that beauty with others...
“You look beautiful.” He says, watching as Rue, in her simple evening dress, waded barefoot and ankle-deep through the water. “I was worried it would be too cold tonight, but it’s actually quite nice...”
“I’m exhausted. Want to just cuddle?”
Adorable Starters | not accepting.@sieliebte
Her words fall on deaf ears, already lost to sleep, and his only response to them in an incoherent mumbling. Exhausted puts it lightly. Today, many visitors had passed through the castle, and between Rue’s meetings with them and Fakir’s duties to keep them out of trouble, they’ve likely both been ready to pass out since lunchtime.
The moment his head had hit the pillow, he’d blinked out like a light, and steadily his breathing slowed and calmed. If cuddling is what Rue desires, certainly all she has to to is curl against his side and wait for his arm to wrap around her.

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Your scars are flammable, let them burn; they keep the decay away from your soul.
vazakiblack (via wnq-writers)
i want to use my victorian c(h)at more often but ??????? i feel Undesired in a Budding Young Fandom so i’ll chill on my canon charas instead
also, my smol hiatus is over!!
i had my last exam today so i’ll be finishing up drafts over the next couple days.