Charlotte () : Msg - Sent Yeah, Real Offended.

charlotte (👑) : msg    -    sent     ›    yeah, real offended.

charlotte (👑) : msg    -    sent     ›    i could get less tamed for you if that's what you're trying to bite.

charlotte (👑) : msg    -    sent     ›    . . see you soon, princess.

charlotte (👑) : msg    -    sent     ›    you could've texted me, i wouldn't mind picking you up.

charlotte (👑) : msg    -    sent     ›    you're lucky that you're cute.

𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭,    𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫    𝐤𝐞𝐲 '𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤.   𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 ;   𝐨𝐮𝐫  𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔭𝔥𝔢𝔪𝔶   𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐲.

𝐀𝐧   𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭,   𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲   𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞   𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲   𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠   𝐟𝐨𝐫   𝐚𝐧   𝕺𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑   𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗.  𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬   𝐨𝐟   :   𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫,   𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭,   𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥,   𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬,   𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝   𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜   𝐚𝐧𝐝   𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞   𝐃𝐍𝐈   𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫   𝟐𝟎. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝   𝐛𝐲   𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖗   HƆ⊥IM   .   𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘/𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌   𝟑𝟎. promo template credit

this is a gift , it comes with a price . independent, highly selective multi-muse roleplay blog. featuring muses from wrestling, house of the dragon, a song of ice and fire, interview with the vampire, and more ! minors do not interact. will contain triggering & sensitive topics, follow at your own behest. #PETITMORTES , as slaughtered by mowgli, 28 / cst / she+hers .

who is the lamb & who is the knife ?

© * ᴵᴺ ᴬ ᴴᴼᵁᔆᴱ ᴼᶠ ᴹᴵᴿᴿᴼᴿᔆ ᵞᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴺᴱⱽᴱᴿ ᴬᴸᴼᴺᴱ - WELCOME HOME!

love was complex, something he didn't know could possibly exist. after all, he heard the words before. love between husband and wife going sour, love between family— those church walls hadn't lied. humans tend to make matters complicating when discussing love; love was simplicity. love was acceptance. his idea of love was an illusion. something he was spoon—fed and nurtured upon in hopes that he will find someone too. that was before he became this .. beast—like creature.

heavy was the head that held the crown of thorns, a king of nothing. ruling over a small church, looming in the halls— painfully bored and unamused by the sounds of children playing outside during the day. his new life was torment, to watch others appreciate the life he hadn't. then a summer child with the touch of grace came along, raising him a question that he avoided for decades.

could death itself love something beyond him? humming to himself at the gentle caress, leaning into the comfort without realization. he was seeking out, hopeful. but her question brought him back, as he bit down on the inners of his cheek. “ always. but love isn't something to fear? "