#prince haze

[miss-mossball]

Invitation

[tomscryingcorner]

INTRODUCING NOW -

THE PRINCEZAM SHIMEJI!!!!!!

DOWNLOAD HERE

INCLUDING THREE (3) SPECIAL BONUS ACTIONS (!?!?!) , MANY MANY UNUSED FILES, AND A LOT OF LOVE !!!!!!!

HERE ARE THINGS TO DO WITH YOUR ZAM!

GRILL HIM

PUT HIM IN SAW

PUT HIM IN SAW. AGAIN

create hell with him inside

think about abyss again

scroll tumblr with company

AND MUCH MUCH MORE !!!!

DOWNLOAD HERE ASWELL!!! PLEASEDOWNLOAD HIM HESNOTMALWARE IPROMMYYYYYY

art by yours truely, coding by @celestinecerasus !! love you lav (prommynorommy ❤)

[rayofillumination]

and also there’s still the part of me that is overthinking if this was really just a silly little tribute or if it’s also some kind of foreshadowing for them next season

[haz311bl0gs]

"I do enjoy our conversations. What do you need?" (x)

[mizeliza]

I think the thing about laurent is that he's depressed, but motivated, because in the grand scheme of things, laurent doesn't believe that he matters as a person, only that one day, he will be king, and he needs to make it to that day because then he will be able to fix things.

at first, these things are the deaths of his father and brother at the hands of akielos, and later, they become his uncle the regent. laurent doesn't matter, ruling is what matters, and so while he definitely indulges in self-destructive behaviors (see: whipping damen in cp), I can't see him going any further than that.

and then there's damen, who believes in both laurent the person and laurent the king. and that's what makes the difference.

[ashersbraincell]

Fuck Romeo and Juliet I want what these bitches have

And by that I mean recognising the uniqueness in one another, despite the fact that we’re all just dust particles in the vastness of the universe, forged by our connection and building a trusting platonic love from that. And when the time comes, being okay with the concept of letting go

[kwyw]

Oh? 👀

[revasserium]

I'm sending a Leon request with a prompt that has tickled the back of my mind ever since I read it on list of gesture prompts. I know you can find a way to make this magic:

possessive hand-holding

ikemen reqs r open u__u thank u @violettduchess i hope u like this... mess LOL

these hands, like gods

leon; 1,059 words; so very nearly nsfw... but not rly... oh yeah, and i simp shakespeare in case yall didnt know...

it always comes back to shakespeare, the damnable bard, a poet to end all poets — a storyteller, a truth-seeker, a dream-spinner; leon used to have to try to stay awake with a book propped in his lap. and now, he wishes his dreams could be half as breathless as all his momentary realities.

“so… they both die at the end?”

you laugh, pressing a finger to his lips; he catches it in his own hand, skimming a kiss by your wrist.

“shh… spoilers!”

leon blinks, still chasing shivers up the length of your arm, kissing you till you’re breathless and his lips are at the base of your throat.

“i thought it was a classic — doesn’t everyone know how it ends already?”

you crinkle your nose, and he kisses that too.

“you didn’t, and it says so in the opening paragraph!” and though there’s nothing accusatory in your tone, he still cocks his head and smirks.

“i do now — and what can i say? i’m hooked,” he says, his voice a bone-deep rumble as it works up through his chest into yours, “you should take responsibility.”

“f-for what? making you more cultured?”

leon scoffs then, propping himself up on an elbow as he lays next to you, the pair of you for once blessedly alone in your chambers, the now-finished play about star-crossed lovers lying face down on the sheets next to you. languidly, almost lazily, he draws his hand up over your arm, tracing an absent finger along the ridge of your collarbones.

“hmmm… i don’t know if cultured is the right word for it,” he muses, and for a moment, you’re caught in the sweep of his dark lashes, in the knife-sharp intensity caught behind his eyes, like shards of shattered glass, making fractals of the afternoon light. “more like… creative.”

and his fingers find yours, lacing one through another, curling, pressing, the movement slow and sure and somehow sensual in a way that you never realized that hands could be. but of course — of course they could be. and you love his hands, don’t you? you love the wide and warmth of them, the length of his fingers, the tan of his skin, the quickness and the certainty with which he wields sword and shield both.

you press your palm to his and smile.

“then…” you let your eyes flutter closed as his other hand trails up the back of your neck, fingers twisting in your hair, tugging ever so gently; you swallow, you gasp, you let yourself be pressed into the soft of the silken sheets, “get creative.”

leon hums, and there’s dare buried somewhere deep his throat, curling up like a purr or a growl or something smack in the middle and just as delicious.

“yeah… what was that line you liked so much again?” he asks, grazing his lips along your cheeks, pulling your hand above your head to pin it there.

“a-and palm to palm,” you recite, your breaths coming quick in your chest now, a burning, twisting heat curling up into the soft of your face, making the tips of your ears go hot, “is h-holy palmer’s kiss — ah —”

you bite your lips as leon grazes his teeth along your neck.

“mhm… then let lips do what hands do… right?” he leans back if only to catch your lips in his, the world falling away in the gravity of him and you, the push and pull, the rise and fall of bodies and breaths, and it is chasing and catching and kissing and breathing, and it is letting go too — but never your hands. always, they stay closed, twisted, entwined. even as one kiss breaks into another, and another, the friction of palm on palm never ceases.

they pray… lest faith turns to despair…

“but no despair for you, i think,” leon had said when you’d first read him the passage aloud, admitting that it’s one of your favorites, and you’d blushed like you do, because of course — of course. what else had there been to do?

“and no death for you, either,” you’d chided, because that was always a more pressing concern.

leon had shrugged, grinning as he looks back at the text, tracing his fingers beneath the well-inked lines.

“well… there’s one kind of death i wouldn’t mind…”

you’d frowned, watched him carefully. but his grin had been cat-like, almost leonine.

“a kind of death?”

“yes — ‘la petit mort’ — you know what it means?” and by now, his smile had gone cheshire-wide and it takes you a moment before you’d squawked and tried to bury your face in the nearest soft thing. which had, incidentally, been your hands.

“leon!”

and he’d laughed, breaking over the sound, leaning back, his shoulders shaking, his eyes cast up and closed, the sound of it sweet and warm as honey.

but now, like this, with your hand held in his, pinned over your head, his lips pressed to the pulse of your heart, your throat bared, your mind unwinding and askew as he trails his free hand along the bend of your waist, you can’t help thinking that he’s right.

if there is a kind of death to pray for… it would be this.

no despair for either of us, you think rather defiantly, only pleasure.

you make yourself that promise as you tug leon up for another soul-searing kiss.

and no death but this one kind, you think as he grins against your lips, striking fire inside you as kindling to a flame, setting you ablaze.

“look at me,” he says, his voice gentle, and you do. you look at him, and in him you find everything — everything you had ever searched for, every truth, every poem, every fairy-tale ending. every story that your body had ever wanted to tell.

“kiss me,” you say. and he does.

and as his hand slowly makes it’s way back up the side of your body to tug at the layers still keeping you apart, you let yourself be lost. you curl your fingers around his, feel the heat of his palm against yours.

you close your eyes — and pray.

[blackhazefanblog]

New Fans seeing the characters be like

[Shicmuon is introduced]

New fans: Oh wow, he looks like a lady killer~

Old fans: Yeah he absolutely is.

[Blow is introduced]

New fans: Ooh, he seems like a heartbreaker! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Old fans: Oh, you have no idea.

[namelessprince]

i still have 2 more blogs to go through that i have saved. smiles

[miss-mossball]

Hibiscus family

[othervee]

'wonderful traditions, as always'

Wilhelm's initiation was just on his own, because he started at Hillerska a bit later than his compatriots. Presumably, though, Alexander and Walter and Henry and the other first-years all started together. So what is initiation like at Hillerska when there's more than one newbie? Do they all get initiated at once, or one at a time?

And if it's all at once, there are only so many second- and third-years to control them. Do they all get dragged and tied as Wilhelm did? There are only so many statues to go around, surely.

Or is it possible that Wilhelm's initiation was actually worse than the usual ones, because usually there are more first-years to torment and so it's shared out among them all, whereas in his case there was only him?

[mersetoilees]

starter for @game-weaver

It had been sometime since Seto had first entered human society, weeks turned to months and he was finally starting to feel as though he understood their society a little better. It felt very similar to the world he had grown up in, though money was an entirely new concept to him. The coastal colony he had relied upon had a similar concept of trade, though nothing quite like the almost sadistic system that humans held themselves to.

It hadn't taken all that long to learn exactly what was expected of him if he wished to live amongst them for any amount of time- at least so long as he wished to blend in. He'd need a home, one he couldn't buy simply by pawning off a handful of pearls or oysters. In order to get that home, he'd needed a "job"- this wasn't as bizarre a concept as the idea of money had been at least. The difficulty came with accepting he was no longer above the common citizen- that he would be expected to lower himself to the same menial tasks they were subjected to in order to live.

Without an identity of his own, finding a job hadn't been easy- it helped less that any skills he could market were directly related to the one place he needed to avoid. In the end it was by no merit of his own that he was able to find employment- he found himself in an all too easy job using only his face to make his paychecks at a shady establishment in the heart of the city. It paid well and left him with ample opportunity to learn more about humanity, they even fed him- though the food they offered was nothing compared to what he was used to.

Finding new accommodations had been more difficult than expected- the same hurdles he'd been forced to jump through in order to find a job standing in his path once more. Without an identity, there were very few willing to consider his applications- his employer had been all too happy to help him in establishing himself. They'd given him documents to prove his existence, though the information on them was far from the truth.

Seto was far from aware of the implications of this help.

After weeks of consideration he settled on an apartment complex nestled deep in a residential district, a humble place that he'd nearly missed in his search. Its outer shell was worn down from the many years it had stood there exposed to the elements. An unassuming structure that seemed all too perfect to hide himself inside.

It was afternoon now, the weekend slowly rolling into view as another day came to its end. He'd have work later that evening, though he had a few hours left- more than enough time to loiter around the city as he made his way.

Stairs creaked and warbled under his weight, their warning enough encouragement to have him taking each step with care as he ascended from his basement unit, all too aware that his deceptive weight would likely be more than enough to send him through the aged wood if he acted too hastily. With a breath of relief he found himself standing at the top of the staircase- though that relief wouldn't last long.

Seto froze as his gaze lifted only to land on a familiar face- one he was not expecting to see so soon. His features pulled into an involuntary scowl silently watching as Yugi wandered into his line of sight, mind racing with his own assumptions for why the fae was present in his new home.

[wayfinderships]

Send this to your favorite blogs! Remember your f/os love you! 💜 We all need some love and positivity 🫶✨

HI PANCHI ty for being my fellow ff//13 selfshipper 💕may you continue to enjoy more blonde/princely fictional men to come (@comfortingstars)

HAZEEEE!!! You're one of my favorite blogs too!! I love seeing you on my dash sm! All your ships are so sweet! Ilysm! (Platonic)

[finnickodaiir]

Remember opening night...

[corvianbard]

#5795

Asterion, the bull of King Minos, Of the city called Knossos, Cursed since your birth To destroy all that is mirth, Sing of your immense sorrow Until a foreign prince comes to know. Let him cross the great sea of haze To end your tragedy in the maze.