#assassincreeds

[valonqars]

[j-aeho]

assassincreeds replied to your post:hello did you miss me do you remember me????

I WAS WONDERING WHEN THIS BLOG WOULD RETURN TO US ALL

yes i know you mentioning history today did the trick!!!

[defsouljb]

"#i stan jb's side profile#his side profile is the truth" THIS IS IT THIS IS THE REALEST

/cries/ he’s so breathtakingly beautiful ಥ_ಥ

[mimotchka-archive]

me: [does the cliché thing and casts u as grantaire]

:) (that’s me screaming w/ my mouth closed)

let’s do the thing where you cast me in a musical

[eunjiyas]

happy birthday! i wish you happiness and good health but most importantly i hope eunji shows up at ur door and sings u a happy birthday song <3

i would legitimately die if that happened like.......i would really die. thank you so much! <3

[marktuan]

i think it's bambam's hand? like his fingers are that long and i've seen his hands on pics before i think it's his

oOoooh maybe! hm i need to pay more attention to their hands HAHa *_*

[rubenwolfe]

is it okay if i ask for airplane by f(x)? if u want u could just read the translated lyrics to the song, u know my name, my selfie tag is /my face and my pronouns are she/her.

one’s freedom from one’s own self comes with the illusion of happiness, she thinks, and thus her adventures with reality, acknowledgement, and the lack thereof begin.

one, she breathes: this is the first ingredient of her recipe; her lungs fill with the immortality of her dreams, of her reluctance, of her desire for freedom. she defines freedom with the curves of her fingers and the fabric of her clothing; brushes of dark paint against a canvas, dusk, and everything fear-free. one, she breathes, and she feels herself on her fingertips.

two, she speaks: with the small tip of her head, the lines of her shoulders, the arch of her back and the glint in her eyes. she’s never truly spoken before, not because of the apparent fear, but because of the lack of an obvious opportunity, so two, she makes one herself.

three, she lives: every step is an earthquake, every sigh is the cluster of an artificial tornado rising airplanes leave behind; she teaches herself to fly, in her own little ways, under her own circumstances, and when, if, someone asks her: “how,” she says she does not know. she does not. so three, she lives without the knowledge, but the freedom.

and thus her story with airplanes with no wings is no longer, and the one with crushing beats and small victories begins. four, she thinks.

[lilyfevers]

K-PIANO | twenty-four piano covers from some of my favourite songs. perfect for studying or relaxing, or for just some piano tunes in your life.