#ofignis

[deadends-blog1]

❛ & : incoming snap !

SAFIYA: hello my luv i need a favor SAFIYA: can u tell me if this boy is cute SAFIYA: i’m drunk n don’t trust my judgement

[bedsofrosearchive]

ofignis replied to your post:i just did my first match ever on fifa and i suck 

did u try kicking the ball in the goal

no i tried kicking the ball into the right side of the field 

[makeyoubleeds-blog]

@ofignis.

          he wakes to the first rays of dawn filtering through the filmy curtains, casting the gentlest of glows across the room, his own body, and that of the figure sleeping next to him. it’s a warm early april, the windows cast open to allow in fresh air and sunlight alike, and the throes of sleep still lap at his toes, hoping to pull him under once more; undeniably tempting, he must admit, but no more so than the form lain supine just adjacent, his lips parting around quiet, steady breaths. 

          arsenio’s fallen for him at an alarming rate, this doe-eyed frenchman with a passionate love for both the seaside and the world as seen through the viewfinder of his camera. it’s been a whirlwind romance, built on snatches of broken english exchanged between the pair and nights spent communicating far more fluently using only their bodies and the sounds of their breaths, skin against skin in the pitch dark until they inevitably succumb to unconsciousness wrapped in one another’s arms, jacque’s voice cooing sweet nothings in his ear.

          touch feather-light, he runs a thumb down the sharp curve of jacque’s jawline, tangling fingers through his hair before daring to press his nose against the soft hollow of his lover’s collarbone. the sun’s already begun to break over the horizon, and arsenio hates to miss it, even to stay in bed with the beautiful boy he’s come to tentatively call his own.  ❛   jacque  …  svegliati, bambino. the sun  –––  you want to see him rise, sì?   ❜  

[misdiirection-blog]

@ofignis

           “don’t suppose you’ve got a bandaid.”

[peachfleurs]

@ofignis ,

     GUILTY AS CHARGED, the boy couldn’t resist himself when it came to any kind of sweets & her just HAD to dip his finger in the open cake on of the employees had just laid out to cut into samples. he didn’t even look around to make sure that no one was WATCHING. it was only after he had his finger pressed against his tongue that he felt a set of eyes STARING in his direction. ❛ don’t TELL anyone. ❜

[makeyoubleeds-blog]

@ofignis.

          ❛   baby …   ❜

[mybarchive]

hm hm hmmmm 24, 13, and 30 :B

send me a number 1-60. / accepting.

24: What does your OC smell like?

always, cigarette smoke. often smoke mingled with a certain material, like plastic or hair or flesh, as well. sometimes like blood, sometimes like the flowery laundry detergent jack uses, sometimes like both. he carries the smell of jack’s cologne, too, in the crook of his neck and the hollow beneath his ear, on his collarbones as well. occasionally like overpriced cologne, shoe polish and freshly-ironed linen, mixed with hair gel.

13: What is your OCs earliest memory?

learning to braid his best friend’s hair. after her mother started deteriorating, bennie needed someone who knew how to tame her wild curls, so she enlisted an elementary-age aspen and taught him how to french braid and fishtail her hair. it’s a very hazy memory, but a fond one, and braiding is a skill he retains to this day.