red roses, blue salvia, yellow tulips, white clovers:
I love you. I think of you, thereâs sunshine in your smile. Please think of me.
 Please.
i did a rly quick google search on the language of flowers please donât beat my ass

ellievsbear
almost home
Jules of Nature
dirt enthusiast
$LAYYYTER
Three Goblin Art
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Discoholic đȘ©
Misplaced Lens Cap
Mike Driver
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trying on a metaphor
ojovivo
KIROKAZE
Sade Olutola

if i look back, i am lost

oozey mess

Janaina Medeiros
Game of Thrones Daily
Monterey Bay Aquarium
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@heholy-blog
red roses, blue salvia, yellow tulips, white clovers:
I love you. I think of you, thereâs sunshine in your smile. Please think of me.
 Please.
i did a rly quick google search on the language of flowers please donât beat my ass
when people just donât read your rules :â)
I missed you daddy!
yes itâs me, the coolest priest dad
hello itâs sinday and joâs priest kink is real
ALAS, IN THE NAME OF LOVE, I SHALL SACRIFICE MY SOUL  /  not for a greater good for community to be kept safe and sound from unspeakable horrors of the night  /  not for a tradition to compel, for a ritual to be repeated over and over until the moon bleeds red  /  but for that sentiment, that one above them all driving all men crazy  /  bringing them to scream aloud to the darkened face of the moon.  ââââââââââââââââ indi roleplay blog for dream daddy: a dad dating simulatorâs very own joseph christiansen, highly selective & private, heavily headcanon based & canon divergent.                                ( personals do not reblog )
how to legitimately piss jo with one sentence: call his children âhellspawnsâ and thatâs probably the only time youâll see him turn from fragile angel to ruler of all hells âbaby blues growing so cold like that very own deepest level of the hell pit and turning everything into ice and his voice sounding indeed like blades meant to hurt and spite and cut through meat.Â
not a single bark. not a screech. not a single bone of his moving in attack as theyâre just tense and turn his posture into something regally frightening, and his voice a murmur but itâs a murmur able to make you regret having opened your mouth because thatâs when you understand that itâs dead serious âhis rage never being the scenic type, never it will be, which only makes it even more terrifying.
because sure, you can insult him all you want âheâs already aware of his own horrible self and misery, he already beats himself quite a lot during a single day and might even planned to off his life in at least 500 different ways and actually partially performed 20. heâll take all the hits, use them to fuel even more his desire for deathâs embrace and his raging depression, heâll even give you even more reasons to make him the storyâs most desired villain ( because he knows, everybody needs someone to blame and here he is, godâs lamb who takes all the sins of the world over his shoulders ).
but the kids? theyâre innocent. theyâre out of any discourse imaginable and they shall stay so. they deserve nothing but the nicest things and heâs gonna make everything to be sure that they wonât get the same level of emotional abuse and psychological terrorism he has received âthat they truly shall never end being as fucked up as their father truly is.
ikncw:
       In the shade of the bake sale tent, Chrisâ eyes wandered off to something that wasnât coated in sugar or an elderly woman. It was difficult but he managed to stare down a dead tree in the distance. He blocked out the world around him, even when church goers attempted to make conversation and his father awkwardly awaited a response that wasnât going to come. Eventually Chris broke his silence by saying, âI feel like a cheap whore on the docks.â
@heholy
some god above their head had to be smiling âpon his head that day, if people but himself seemed not to notice what erupted from juvenile voice of the christiansensâ oldest offspring âbaby blues tinted in concern as josephâs hand went to the sonâs shoulder and tried to have him turn towards his own visage, lip bitten a little. â chris, dear, are you okay? do you want to go home? â because as much as he loved having his angels around during the sale, their comfort came first no matter what.
"What did I do wrong? Was I boring? Did I ignore you?"
head would shake and blond locks would dance along, softy âas soft as sigh of repenting sinner leaving lips way too chapped due to endless biting ( vice of selfdestruction never leaving, in his mind well deserved ), dulled baby blues shy when glancing at her figure oh so close, oh so undeserving of that one true person in that culdesac deserving to be called an hellspawn.
                     HE WAS, HE WAS, HE WAS âââTHE RUINATION!
â no, no no noââ donât say that, you did... you did nothing ââfaultâs mine. faultâs gonna always be mine. â for he never rebelled, for he let wires control his life and bring ultimate ruination to his only friendâs, for his attempts at mending every single mistake ended up with none but dust to fill their ulcerous stomachs.Â
he missed solace of moths whirring their chant and wings against his cheeks.
â i ruined your life, i am sorry. â
deathless sentences / @whinemcm
deathless â sentence meme
You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast.
You are going to break your promise. I understand.
Youâre lonely too.
It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be.
I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable.
I am your servant.
I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased.
For you alone I will be weak.
I belong here, and you will not deny me.
I say these things, and the world listens.
I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried.
In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.
I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.
I moved the earth and the water for you.
You will always run away with her.
You will always lose her.
You will always be a fool.
You will always be dead, in a city of ice, snow falling into your ear.
You have already done all of this and will do it again.
No one should be judged for loving more than they ought, only for loving not enough.
We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying.
What we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape.
There need never be any rules between us.
Let us be greedy together; let us hoard.
Do not leave me, swear that you will never leave me.
I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I.
Sleep with fists closed and shoot straight.
I canât abide a poor liar.
You look like a winterâs night. I could sleep inside the cold of you.
Oh, quit that. Blushing is for virgins and Christians.
Scold me; deny me. Tell me you want what you want and damn me forever. But donât leave me.
Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.
In his own country, Death can be kind.
What is the world but a boxing ring where fools and devils put up their fists?
Men die. Itâs practically what theyâre for.
I am no one; I am nothing.
Nothing in me was not made by you.
A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.
Just tell yourself a story thatâll satisfy you and pretend he told it.
Forever isnât bright; it isnât like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.
I savor bitterness - it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived.
If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.
What did I do wrong? Was I boring? Did I ignore you?
Donât you dare speak to me like that.
I have worn nothing but blood and death for years.
I have fought all your battles for you, just as you asked me.
I have learned not to cry when I strangle a man.
I have learned to watch everything die.
I am not a little girl anymore, dazzled by your magic. It is my magic, now, too.
Are we not devils?
No one is now what they were before the war.
I have not seen you without your skin on.
Close up your head; your brain is getting loose.
We obsess. Itâs in our nature.
Iâve a devil of a habit for being right.
In war you must always choose sides.
If you try to be a bridge laid down between them, they will tear you in half.
We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive.
My old bones will follow yours soon enough.
It is better to be strong and cruel than to be fair.
I will see him with his skin off before I agree to fall in love.
After love, no one is what they were before.
I have survived, but I have not been spared.
In the space of one heartbeat to another I loved you and I was lost to you.
Frighten me, make me cry, only come back.
Itâs not so bad, my darling. Being dead. Itâs like being alive, only colder.
Youâll think itâs love, while he dines on your heart.
You will be so beautiful when you are old.
I cannot keep you and I cannot let you go.
You will live as you live in any worldâŠwith difficulty, and grief.
I look at you and it is like my throat being cut.
She said youâd come and I swore to eat your heart.
I still want to kiss you.
My heart is being cut in two. I cannot bear it.
What happens to anything beautiful?
I have to know, I have to or else you will just rule me until the end of everything because you know and I do not.
vice grips wrists, leans towards to snake teeth along jowl, whispering, "you won't take no for an answer huh.."
what a lion he was, robert small, whose roar seemed to echo all around the little space they were encased within when it was just nothing but hoarse vibrato against his ear âa predicament, theirs. a loophole they were so tightly tied into, leaving them gasping for air like addicts reanimated, all the time, every time. HIS SKIN SHIVERED, DEMANDED MOREÂ âpriestly hands unable to cup stubble-covered jawline but a slight caress given with the tip of his nose, hum sounding like saddened psalm.
â i am a weak man, god may have mercy. â
( but he wonât, he never had. )
hughhoncy:
---------- > STARTER CALL Â // Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â @heholy
You  laugh  in   the  face  of  GODS   that  exist   beyond  the  reason   of  your  own   milk  -  ivory  skeleton.   Feeling  CRUSHED   under   this  pious   air  ,  your  lungs   collapse   as   if  trodden   under  a   heavy  boot  â   your   tar  -  black   heart:  weak.     YOU FUCKING HATE THE CHURCH.    Poison  on   your  drunk  tongue.   â  I needâa take a piss, can I do that? The fuck are yaâ lookin  â at me for? â
drunken chant echoing in precious tinted walls and stained glass âIT EBBED IN BLASPHEMOUS FLARE AND MADE SKIN UNDER LAYERS OF BLACK COTTON CRAWL IN UNPRONOUNCEABLE HORRORS as he had to rise his eyes towards such a merciless god watching from above with a bowl of snacks under his holy arm, baby blues of he-priest indeed widening in surprise indeed such a late night fuss wasnât coming from the only person he knew able to do such gesture ; in the house of god heâs meant to be bringer of peace and patience and those are the ornaments all over his pretty face, barely a frown when approaching the source of such mad hexes. â if what youâre looking for is a bathroom, thereâs one in the sacristy right behind me. â
Hey father ;) lemme see that asshole
â iâââi believe i didnât understand what you just said, my friend. â
I donât understand why characters arenât allowed to make mistakes. Iâm always seeing posts and book reviews and shit that are like, âI canât believe this character did this one thing. That was a terrible decisionâ and then they shit all over them for it. Like, yeah, what they did was wrong, but then there was a whole plot line where they figured out why it was wrong, and they grew from it. Why is that seen as bad writing instead of good character development?
ALAS, IN THE NAME OF LOVE, I SHALL SACRIFICE MY SOUL  /  not for a greater good for community to be kept safe and sound from unspeakable horrors of the night  /  not for a tradition to compel, for a ritual to be repeated over and over until the moon bleeds red  /  but for that sentiment, that one above them all driving all men crazy  /  bringing them to scream aloud to the darkened face of the moon.  ââââââââââââââââ indi roleplay blog for dream daddy: a dad dating simulatorâs very own joseph christiansen, highly selective & private, heavily headcanon based & canon divergent.                                ( personals do not reblog )
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