Local Bubblegum

I'm back, baby! Still no idea of how tumblr actually works…|| 25(FUCK?!)yo Cybird enjoyer and other fandoms ❗️ occasionally NSFW ❗️

[bubheart]

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱•••ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕖•••⊰•̩̩͙*⭑

Update: semi-hiatus bcs I’m moving to the other side of the world my country and doing everything alone is hard.

Update: I did end up moving countries...continent entirely actually. Somewhere much warmer :D I think I'm gonna play a bit on the blog (finish some stuff) again before life catches up to me.

[keithsandwich]

Good afternoon! I'm in love with Keith Howell.

[natimiles]

“I need you just as fiercely as I need my music.

You’re so precious to me… I have nothing else to compare it to. You are mein Schatz, my treasure.”

Countdown to Wolf's Birthday: moodboard | 5 days!

Masterlists: Writing | Screenshots & Such | Edits

[celiciaa-deactivated20240806]

ⓒ mssstaaa

[shatcey]

William's wit

I'm not very good at English, which is pretty obvious… and I don't know Old English at all… to me, it sounds like a completely unknown new language. So, when I first start reading William's route (sorry, I can't name a person by last name… it's pretty rude in my country) I felt a little lost. I even used a translator from time to time, because I couldn't find a single familiar word in his long and probably very poetic lines.

So it was a nightmare. But the brain adapts very easily, and over time, even if I didn't know all the words in a line, I would somehow be able to understand its meaning.

And now I (who knows why) felt a strong nostalgia for this beautiful bird and decided to re-read his route. It's still difficult… but… now I find his way of expressing himself quite funny, something between an insult and a compliment. He's very good with words, that's for sure…

And the more I read it, the more it feels like flirting… I may be wrong, but words are his bread and I doubt he'll use them for a person he's not interested in. I still haven't read the stories from his point of view (but I plan to), so will see if my guess was right…

[hhoneypop]

@hhoneypop. — “ and when that mockingbird drops dead, i'll find a way to make you happy again. . . ”

[chuye-a]

【潔癖さんの萌え探求】

企画お借りしました（pixiv id=20438219）

[lichtluv]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒖𝒑, 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒖𝒔...

𝒘𝒉𝒚'𝒅 𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉?

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊'𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

↷ɪsᴀᴀᴄ ɴᴇᴡᴛᴏɴ ᴍᴏᴏᴅʙᴏᴀʀᴅ.

[lichtluv]

────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──────

𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒆?

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕...

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒐𝒅 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒊 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍.

────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──────

⊰ 𝙟𝙤𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙣 𝙜𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙜 𝙛𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙗𝙤𝙖𝙧𝙙.

[lotrlorien]

"One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.”

[wackyweirdwriter]

HE CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD FOR ONE LAST PERFORMANCE!

[samgiddings]

OK new game. Use this website to see how common your first name is, and then put that number in the tags. 

[wordycheeseblob]

Ikevamp prompt idea

Murder mystery mansion (something like @dove-da-birb did)

[emyn-arnens]

TOLKIEN WEEK 2022 | DAY 5: HEARTBREAK ⇢ ANDRETH

“Andreth adaneth, the life and love of the Eldar dwells much in memory; and we (if not ye) would rather have a memory that is fair but unfinished than one that goes on to a grievous end. Now he will ever remember thee in the sun of morning, and that last evening by the water of Aeluin in which he saw thy face mirrored with a star caught in thy hair—ever, until the North-wind brings the night of his flame. Yea, and after that, sitting in the House of Mandos in the Halls of Awaiting until the end of Arda.”

“And what shall I remember?” said she. “And when I go, to what halls shall I come? To a darkness in which even the memory of the sharp flame shall be quenched? Even the memory of rejection. That at least.”

[violettduchess]

Congratulations again and again XD You're a star! If it would be alright, may I request Mozart + Red Tulip, please?

A/N: Part of my 500 Follower Celebration🎉

Mozart x f!Reader

Fluff

Word Count: 977

A red blanket spread across bright green grass under a cornflower blue sky. Bold colors, bright colors. You look at the man you love as he lies on his side, his head of silver hair almost luminous in the sunlight. A man of understated pale blue and silver and white and gray, a sharp contrast to the world around you. Sometimes you wonder if he is truly here, his spectral beauty almost too much for this plane of existence. Your hand travels to your neck at the thought, fingers touching skin that is still tender from earlier that morning and the love-mark of his fangs. It reassures you. He is here. And real. And yours.

He is currently propped up on one elbow, absently toying with a few grapes. You can tell by the way his violet eyes aren’t focused that he isn’t really here. His body may be present but his mind is wandering in its own dream-space, lost in music only he can hear, building symphonies and concertos while you mundanely decide which jelly to put on your croissant. 

You know his heart well enough to leave him to his dreaming, leaning back on your palms and enjoying the view over the rolling green hills dotted with over-exuberant daisies. Your attention is pulled away from the idyllic scene by something small and blue bobbing its way toward you. A large butterfly with cobalt wings edged in black is fluttering toward your picnic. You hold your breath as it lands, first on the wicker handle of your basket and then it flaps its way in a lazy zig-zag to land right on your bent knee. Squashing the impulse to gasp, you remain very still as the butterfly takes its respite, gossamer wings slowly folding and unfolding on a loop, a ballerina stretching before her next dance. Up close, you can see the tiny, delicate black veins that run through the shocking blue of its wings. A living jewel right in front of you. The wings open and close one more time and then without warning it takes off, fluttering away as unexpectedly as it came.

You can’t help it. Delight and excitement finally are allowed to escape as you burst into elated laughter. Mozart snaps to attention, as if he had heard a gunshot and not an expression of joy. He blinks his amethyst eyes, staring at you.

“Wolf, did you see it? Did you see the beautiful butterfly that just landed on me? Just like that!” You are still laughing, talking excitedly as you scan the green fields around you for any sign of your tiny visitor. Mozart slowly pushes himself up, the only sign of what he is thinking is the corner of his mouth, lifted in an unreadable, Mona Lisa smile.

A few days later

The concert hall is buzzing like a hive full of bees. You smooth your hands over the deep ochre velvet of your skirt, the familiar excitement of attending a Mozart concert running through you as well. The gleaming white beast of a grand piano is already spotlit and awaiting the man who will bring it to life, whose fingers will breathe air into its lungs and start a heart beating in its chest. Next to you, le Comte is a vision of calm as he takes in the stage, the lights, the sounds of the patrons. He glances at you and offers a smile.

“You said he wrote this piece in a few hours?”

You nod. “We were having a picnic on the hill and then he just got up and said he needed to go, immediately.”

Comte turns his golden gaze back to the stage, affection in his smile. “That’s Mozart.”

You’re about to agree when the lights finally go down and your heart leaps up, somersaulting in your chest as you see the refined, slender figure of the man you love more than anything enter the stage. The applause swells like a cresting wave until he holds up his hand, Neptune calming the seas with a gesture.

“This piece is called “Das Glück der Schmetterlinge.” He makes an elegant turn on his heel, walking toward the grand piano. The audience holds its breath in anticipation.

You lean closer to Comte a moment, eyes still glued to Mozart as he seats himself on the shiny piano bench.

“I know that ‘Schmetterling’ is butterfly. Did you understand the rest?”

Comte tilts his head towards you. “My German isn’t perfect but I do believe it translates to ‘The Joy of Butterflies’.”

Warmth blooms in your chest as you lean back in your chair. Ah, so he did notice the butterfly that day. 

Mozart raises his hands, elegant fingers poised over the black and white keys and then pauses, turning his head to face the audience one more time.

“I dedicate this piece to the most beautiful sound in the world.”

Murmuring ripples through the audience. What sound could the master of music think is the most beautiful thing in the world?

He closes his eyes and his hands begin moving, spinning magic from the first note on. His music always moves you, always reaches inside and wraps itself around your heart. But here….there was something here, something familiar. A repetition of notes that carries the entire song. Something about it tickles the back of your mind, a notion nebulous and cloudy but refusing to dissipate. It is only when you see le Comte smiling that you realize he has unlocked the secret. Again you lean close.

“It’s a beautiful piece,” you whisper, “but why does it feel so familiar? Mozart isn’t playing any of the songs he has written in the past.”

Comte waits a moment, the same series of notes ringing through the concert hall like beacons of sparkling light, enchanting the audience, before he turns his head, his mouth close to your ear.

“Mon chéri,” he says gently, voice brimming with warm amusement, “Do you not recognize the music of your own laughter?”

🎼

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial@alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome

[tiny-wooden-robot-deactivated20]

Nokto, you sunnuva

[ikemen-prince-writers-posts]

@tiny-wooden-robot @atelieredux ....I'm suddenly burning up to bite this guy's neck and leave a very obvious hickey....

[ikevamp-twitter]