guys it’s that time again.. next year I will be reaching the one year with ianthina and during these short months of having this crazy nature loving child ; i’ve never been so happy to see her develop through the amazing threads and friend’s shes made throughout the 10 months of her existence . I’ve created this innocent naive child and tossed her out to the roleplay world. I didn’t think she would hit it off to be honest but here she is. Growing in character and its all thanks to the beautiful and amazing muses and muns she and i have come across. today, this blog as hit the 450+ followers and i’m just filled with bliss. I’m thankful to those that have stuck around and put up with her mod swings and odd nature and i’m excited to see her interact with the new followers. while i am writing this, i want to thank those have been patient with replies that i have yet to do. you guys are all real mvps and i mean it from the bottom of my heart
i just want to give a few thanks and let everyone know that ianthina and i seriously are always filled to join to see all the different characters and personalities that flood the dash.
You’re all just so damn breathtakingly majestic and beautiful.
happy holidays for those of you that celebrate around this time of year, and happy new year, i guess!! nearly two months have passed since i started this blog, which is pretty exciting. 2016 has been, hands down, the worst year of my whole life, but thanks to some of the lovely writers i follow, the year wasn’t as shitty as it could have been. i don’t follow very many people, but i love everyone on my dash with my whole heart. under the cut is a list of people that made these past two months with sua spectacular. (also, WOW, thank you to 150+ people for loving my muse and liking my writing enough to follow passiflor! you’re lovely.)
in hopes that 2017 brings you all nothing but good,
WHAT’S YOUR MUSE’S PLANT PERSONALITY? TAKE THIS QUIZ AND POST YOUR RESULTS ( REPOST, DON’T REBLOG! )
Tagged by: @chraeon + @clementide ( f you both )
Tagging: @passiflor @sanguinae @zenivth @unrxly @suieons @nemessism @rndzvous @absolutorythirst @kindvongift + if you wanna do this just say i tagged you i don’t fucking care this is some next level filler bullshit anyway
Plant Personality: DPS
DANDELION: Scrappy and tough, you’re a pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps kind of person. You don’t give up easily and you often thrive in situations that others would find discouraging. You have an instinct to serve others and see yourself as most useful in times or places of crisis, but you may over rely on your toughness and forget how sensitive you really are.
PEPPERMINT: Unflappable. You are cool in the crisis, calm in the storm, collected amongst the chaos. You’re a breath of fresh air, a waft of inspiration to the down-and-out, a refreshing, inspiring, uplifting person to be around. Of course, even a cool cucumber like yourself can run into trouble. You may try to take on too much, which can leave you feeling weighed down and not quite yourself.
SLIPPERY ELM: Let’s just say you’re a vocal person. Sure, that might mean you’re chatty. But it also means you’re the one humming in the hallway, singing in the shower, speaking your mind, standing up and shouting if need be to get yourself heard. You’ve got a voice and you know how to use it. Inclined to speak up for the voiceless, defend the defenseless or simply bring joy to the joyless, you may have a tendency to overuse your voice.
you almost say seven but the answer floats in your lungs like rising mud. you shift your shoulders. some part of you is already forming an excuse. that it’s not that bad sometimes. one, two, three on a day that the clouds are out. you’re just complaining about stuff. yesterday you laughed past a brick of a four, does that make the brick come down to a two-point-five. the solid seven panic attack of last tuesday feels somehow like a little thorn, just a regular day full of a gentle three-point-nine earthquake rocking after yesterday’s close-to-an-eight. see but if tomorrow you have a real bad day, it will make today look simple.
and what if. what if tomorrow it’s a big old red eight-point-nine. like one of those days where sirens are going off in every part of you but you’re stuck behind a glass window watching it all burn down. like one of those days that your skin against the air feels foreign. like too much of everything. like sitting-in-the-shower, like can’t-eat, like the tide isn’t just coming in, it came while you were sleeping and now you’ve gotta learn how to swim. like bounce me against a bullet hole kind of day.
you keep numbers like nine and ten way out of reach. those are for the people who really are suffering. you’ve got no excuse. nine and ten are funeral numbers, for real problems, not yours, no. and sometimes you’re fine. and you’re kind of used to it. and it’s not sad, it’s just numb like a television caught on static. numb like i can’t remember if i care about this. numb like nothing works but i can’t be bothered to fix it. that’s not sad that’s every day stuff. everybody feels like this, right? feels like they’ve been shut off. right.
maybe five. right in the middle. like not gonna shoot myself but i’m not wasting your time. a nonanswer. like could be worse could be better. like i need help but i don’t want you to worry even though i need someone to worry about me because i can’t worry about myself. maybe five. but what if five is too small. what if five is too big. what if -
“on a scale of one to ten,” he repeats into your silence, and then pauses. “and please be honest about this.”
A tall pile of crumpled up papers lie in his waste-bin, a few wads having toppled over onto the floor. Upon smoothing them out, the messily scrawled handwriting of an almost-seventeen year old Seojun can be seen on the near-illegible sheets. Ink bleed distorts certain areas of the letters, but more notably, a recurring name appears to be heavily crossed out, with the clear intent of being rendered indecipherable; perhaps even to the writer himself. The letters repeatedly address a girl, a figure in his immediate past with a sense of frantic, juvenile longing. His words range from calm explanations to desperate pleas, occasionally appearing to hint at something more ominous. In between the spaces of said words, perhaps, one could begin to see the gaping cracks in his psyche.
dear ▒▒▒▒▒,
i’ve been thinking about you all day today, much like every other day. there’s this heavy weight on my chest that makes it hard to breathe whenever i do. sometimes, when i see you at ▒▒▒▒▒▒, i feel this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, like i’m about to ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒ myself. i’m talking ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒, just... everywhere. i don’t know what to do on my own without you. i’ve had to rely on myself for so long that when you finally gave me a shoulder to lean on, i just... forgot. i forgot what it was like to be all alone.
i haven’t been able to sleep much. i’ve lost all my appetite too. not even the ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ out to get from the street vendor near north park ▒▒▒▒▒▒ good anymore. i couldn’t even finish all of mine without throwing it away. i feel ▒▒▒▒. i feels like everything reminds me of you no matter where i go.
i miss you, ▒▒▒▒▒ . i’m sorry. i sti▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒.
- seojun.
dear ▒▒▒▒▒,
you don’t have to be scared of me anymore. i’m still just me. nothing’s changed. i still want us to work out. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒. in the end, i still want it to be you and me. you know how I feel, right? ▒▒ease don’t be scared.
- seojun.
dear ▒▒▒▒▒,
i’ve been thinking about you today too. i can’t stop it no matter how hard i try. i keep looking for you in other people and it drives me crazy. one of the part-time girls at the hotel was wearing that same necklace i got you on valentines day. it made me feel sick. i don’t know what to do about it.
▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒.
- seojun.
dear ▒▒▒▒▒,
i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.
- seojun.
YOU DON’T EVEN L▒▒L AT ME ANYM▒▒E. AM I T▒▒▒ DISG▒▒TING TO YOU NOW?
dear ▒▒▒▒▒,
i couldn’t control it, i’m sorry. i should’ve told you when i realized what was happening. i know i look like a monster to y▒▒ now, but… i swear it’s not what it looks like. please give me another chance. ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒.
- seojun.
dear ▒▒▒▒▒,
i pushed you away because i knew it was better for you. i knew that it would hurt you deep enough to keep you fr▒▒ coming back. but in doing so, i realized that a sick, twisted part of me still expected you ▒▒ stay. when you left, i couldn’t believe it. i c▒▒▒▒ process the fact that you could actually walk ▒▒ay. it was almost l▒e… like i owned you. you’d ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ , through ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒. i figured you would time and time again. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ to come back to me. i know how that sounds, but i swear, ▒▒’s because i really ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒. i know this is the right thing to do but it’s fucking unbearable. every time I see you i think of how wrong it felt. you ▒▒▒▒▒, ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒. i think of everything we had together that i fuck▒ over be▒▒use i ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒. i’m sorry. i didn’t want it to be this way. i ▒▒▒▒▒▒. forgive me.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
the old man comes down with the flu, so seojun comes right down to the party.
well, not the party, but the mixer - and not really the mixer, but the 25th anniversary of the hanhwa group’s subsidiary, the galleria.
so technically, the party. however, anyone in the business sphere knows an opportunity to network when they see one; and the chance to expand their ‘greedy, capitalist empires’ ( as so eloquently stated by yuri < @chraeon > ), doesn’t go ignored. taekwon’s share holdings in both the luxury halls and their other subsidiaries has mandated the visit anyway, so seojun immediately dons yet another one of his overpriced suits, slides on his strip-yest blue tie and gels his hair up neatly, ready to lie and bullshit his way through another glamorous night.
he doesn’t necessarily like it, but he does owe it to a particular operations manager who, not too many years ago, had pulled a few strings for his first job placement in west hall. that in itself had taken quite a bit of underhanded persuasion, but he ignores that thought for the time-being. instead, he greets the plethora of businessmen and women with their arm candies and oft solemn, haughty appearances with the tact of a seasoned professional: laughing reservedly, nodding thoughtfully, interjecting with either playful commentary or thoughtful observation when needed. but most of all, he smiles. he smiles when a clearly wasted executive speaks directly into his face, mouth reeking of alcohol, he smiles when one of the many trophy wives asks too personal a question, and he smiles when one of the daughters flirts with him with sickening desperation. he just smiles.
sooyeon is a breath of fresh air from the crowd when he spots her, although tyler is oddly nowhere to be found. he walks over to her with two glasses of champagne in tow, handing her the drink with a thinly-veiled smile of relief.
“heard there’s a pretty heavy pre-order for your winter collection already? that’s a good sign, noona. congratulations.”
PICK ONE. QUESTION 1: WHO FAILED?
A) she loved you and you just ruined it.
B) you cannot divide by zero. there was never any way of saving it.
2. TOMORROW YOU WILL:
A) forget about it until you find yourself shaking in the cereal isle, unable to speak.
B) recognize her perfume somewhere on the wind and stand there as if you’ve been struck by lightning.
C) obsess. it feels like you’re drowning.
3. DO YOU TEXT HER?
A) yes, of course, she’ll never respond but she needs to know
B) no, leave her alone. but what if she’s waiting for you to come home?
C). you stare at your phone where saved messages you’ll never send are piling up like fall leaves, overlapping: when can i see you again. could we undo it. could we be better again.
4. WAS IT REAL?
A) god i hope not
B) if it was how am i supposed to get that back what if that was my only shot
5. WHY IS IT OVER?
A). i don’t know.
B). i don’t know.
Whispers breathe through the ears and expel down the working body before him. He floats - flies - around the stranger. He is seen but unseen and as he smiles a crooked smile he speaks in a hushed silence. “Child, oh, child. The world is falling down. A prayer is what you seek and for the one who can grant your wish. All you must do is speak aloud and I shall make sure you get what you want. All I ask In return is that you may grant mine. If so, what do you wish for?”
seojun recounts every hallucinatory drug he knows of: lsd, ecstasy (was meth a hallucinogen…? he can’t remember), p, pcp, magical shrooms. he recounts every instance of rejecting odd substances, almost always offers from shady foreign exchange students on an average night out in hongdae. he recounts the unnerving looks in their hazy, unfocused eyes, and the noticeable slur in their already fucked-up korean. he promptly eliminates it from the list.
seojun recounts the last time he'd had a drink: not too long ago. at precisely 11:33 pm last night, he had consumed his first glass of bacchus cabernet sauvignon, seated in a large, western influenced restaurant at the corner of yongsan. he remembers this clearly only because sooyoung had called him just in time, frantically blabbering on about her car shutting down, which was an easy enough problem to solve (see: “how long ago did you take it in for an oil change?” “hunh? oh.”). anyway, he’d finished off a good portion of it, but it couldn’t possibly still be in his system - so he eliminates that, too, from the list.
seojun recounts the last time he’d sustained a head injury: too long ago. he obviously wasn’t bashing his face into a wall often enough for this shit. easy elimination.
in finality, he tries to recount the last time a dream had felt this real, because he then is forced to focus as a man literally hovers over the ground before his very fucking eyes. he thinks its a miracle he manages to string together a cohesive sentence at all.
tangentwithtanner
stormborns
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
blakekathryn
