#babieee

[loverboyilya]

blurry ilya peek 🥰

[justbeinglonely]

renjun on hi seulgi

[999nigga]

this wasn’t even two years ago and I don’t even wear denim anymore

[deathbyfiction]

JUST FELL TO THE FLOOR SOBBING

[whewchilly]

You Have To Answer with Sebastian Vettel

[whoregaylorenzo]

QUICK GIF GAME: Raúl Fernández for @eneabastianini23

[atypicalacademic]

WIP Someday

Thank you @aria-i-adagio @cleverblackcat and @dirty-bosmer for the tag! here is this bit from Hallowed Ground ft teenaged Teldryn being a sad baby. Tagging those who tagged me in return! And @dumpsterhipster @cumbiazevran @ollifree @memaidraws and anyone else!

Teldryn’s breath left him in a quiet sob. Alsal always gave the warmest hugs. The familiar scent of incense and perfumed silk was a golden dart of sunlight seeping through his skin, taking aches from him he didn’t know were there at all. Every time they held him, as though he mattered in that moment more than anything in this world, his courage would slip like a cloak shrugged away by the wayside, and how light, how gentle it was to live without having to carry it till his bones splintered and his heart cracked in two. He envied Zennat this. Teldryn couldn’t bear to go near his own mother without the guilt turning his blood to ice, and her grip around him was always a dying woman’s, desperate and brief.  By the time he pulled away from them, legs trembling and fearing he’d fall to pieces, his tears had stained their gold and crimson shawl. Still, they dabbed gently at the corners of his eyes with it.  “You don’t have to go back there if you don’t want to.” Alsal said. “I’ll talk to your uncle, and you can stay here.”  Teldryn managed to shake his head. “It’s alright, serjo. I’ll manage.” They were quiet for a moment, watching him with a look in their eyes he couldn't name. “You shouldn’t be managing. You should be safe.”  “I am safe. You needn’t worry about-” “Shouldn’t someone?”  No. He’d seen the offerings, the funerals, the weeping. He’d seen the dead and heard the sickness. The last thing anyone should do for a brat old enough to carry his own sword and cast his own ward was to worry. He bit his lip, and looked down. Ruffling his hair, Alsal sighed, and held him close again. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? Go home with a full stomach at least, alright?”  Teldryn swallowed hard. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Zennat was back from his room, his long hair loose and damp and falling past his shoulders. He waved, and smiled so bright Teldryn’s chest smarted from it.  “Okay.” He told Alsal. “Okay.” 

[heizestuff]