#third verse

[dynamitem]

@uravity-rises​ -  ⛔️ // Symbol Meme. // Still Accepting.

Someone is being naughty, even if to a wall, by using a painting tube, leaving green dots onto the solid surface. Not to mention, with peoples walking by, like its no one business, since this is hardly illegal, this Rimbombee was having the time of her life, making art.

[exalted-slaughter]

@hclluvahctel

“Do you seriously think you can keep me down here forever? Do you really think you’ll be able to use me as some sort of pathetic chess piece to try and negotiate for a cease fire with heaven? You’re pathetic.”

The glow of Lute’s mask is the only thing visible within the darkness of the hotel’s basement, of the makeshift “cell” that had been hastily forged within the building’s renovations. The cell itself was less of an actual room within the basement and more of just a section of the already open room boxed off with a row of solid iron beams from the floor to the ceiling, making up the “bars” of the prison that kept her in. There was a “door” in the sense that there was a section where the beams were cut and hinged so that they could swing out and offer a space to climb in or out, and a slot at the bottom where food trays could be delivered, but ultimately, the “cell” itself was just a corner of the cobweb ridden basement that happened to also hold the building’s rattling, soot stained furnace and a couple of old storage boxes collecting dust.

Lute had seemingly tucked herself into the corner of what little space she had, back pressed up against the wall and not seeming to care about the threat of any dust or debris getting in her feathers, her uniform still stained with the golden ichor of her own semi-fresh blood, the ragged remains of where her arm used to be exposed to the air. There was a single shackle clasped to her left ankle that was connected to a chain that was stuck to the opposite wall. A precaution, just in case she tried to escape.

[heavybrothercomedy]

It’s funny that our national anthem has an uncensored version and a damn radio edit.

[fanchonmoreau]

I love when German lieder love songs are to me, specifically. Lucia Popp sings Schubert's 'Seligkeit'

[waferqueen]

We're not a commercial for everyone else. We go out for coffee and keep it to ourselves. We make little homes out of 3 star hotels. I know what you're feeling 'cause I feel it as well.

Troye Sivan, For Him I really like this improv verse. I like my relationships with privacy. When you're with me, you don't really have to take a snap of everything. When you're with me, forget about the rest of the world.

[miraculousloser]

Sick

“If you want me to be honest, Chat, I'm worried sick, and so are they.” The conversation with her parents had been intense, and they'd made it quite clear that they wanted to meet Marinette's boyfriend, saviour of Paris or not. Marinette had to wonder whether her papa would meet Chat the confident, sweet superhero, or the awkward teenage boy he was beneath that. She couldn't see Chat keeping up his grins, posturing, and puns in the face of her protective father, although it would be fun to see him try. “They think I'm in danger from Hawk Moth,” she said. They were probably right.

“I'm so sorry, Marinette,” he said, tucking his mouth against her shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut as he held her tightly from behind. He'd had a harder time than usual getting to her balcony unseen, and they hadn't been able to risk standing there together because someone with a telephoto lens had already caught sight of him kissing her goodbye last night. It had been all over the internet all day, and all over the magazines by that evening.

“It'll blow over,” she said, putting her hands over his and giving him a confident smile that she didn't feel. “Adrien's taking me to school every day, and back again,” she added. “The press are just an annoyance.”

Chat lifted his head up to quirk an eyebrow at her, cheekily. “Should I be jealous?” He asked. “My girlfriend's getting limo rides from a model.”

Marinette laughed. “Silly cat,” she teased, leaning in to press her lips to his cheek. “Maybe if Adrien had been the one to get caught sneaking into the hospital ward to visit me,” she told him, with a grin. She'd pressed the flowers when she'd got home, and was intent on making a box frame for them so she could hang them up, but she hadn't told Chat about this. He laughed, and settled in to cuddle her tight again.

“We'll just have to be really careful,” she told him.

His arms tightened around her. “What if someone comes for you?” He asked. “What if Hawk Moth--?”

“Then we'll deal with it,” she said, cutting him off before he got himself worked up and gave himself nightmares again, “when it happens, if it happens. I'm not helpless,” she pointed out. “I can take care of myself.”

Chat sighed, and hugged her closer. “I still worry,” he said, softly.

“We'll get through it,” Marinette said, and Chat turned his head to look her in the eyes at the words. She offered him a warm smile. “You're not the only one looking out for me. Don't take it all on yourself. I want you to be my boyfriend, not my bodyguard.” He sighed, and nodded, and Marinette sighed too. “Now papa,” she said, humour back in her voice, “might have other ideas.”

Chat would never admit to the nervous little squeak that came from him at the impending meeting of Marinette's parents and formal introduction as her boyfriend, but he made it nonetheless.

[oblitus-est]

Ba’t di salubungin Ang puso ko at kunin Ang diwang malaya Wag na wag magpapayapa Ikaw ang pagibig Pakinggan ang himig ko Wag ka sanang lalayo Mundong ito ay hihinto

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

Casually listens to Florence + The Machine and cries over fictional characters