contrive/contrite

we let the worst things happen to the best of us— and after a while, we start to wonder whose to blame;

[moropiku]

Kaworu no everything about this is a terrible idea

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[wishchu]

also affectionately known as “blue kaworu”

[mkurisu]

✽ ✾ ✿ ❁Send my muse a bouquet of flowers (on anon or not) and I will respond respectively! ❃ ❋ ❀

[coldtrainer-blog]

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[desssays]

Visit Original Link

Gotten - Slash feat Adam Levine

[blancontrive]

Your voice was once my favorite resonance, but lately I've forgotten even how I sound | Dark

So nice to see your face again; tell me how long has it been, since you've been here— 

The sight was familiar, and almost too much for the young adult to bear at the current moment. Around him, the world still continued on and moved as though they were nothing but strangers who happened to be around the same place at the same time : a pair of randomly vibrating particles that happened to collide at some point on a cartesian plane with no real impact; but it's not true, isn't it? He and the other were not just strangers like the other faces of anonymity that milled around them. 

The name is bitter on Blanc's tongue and misplaced with a question.

Was Dark still the correct or adequate term of address? They had once been so close that names had become obsolete, and one glance or just a notion would have allowed them to communicate easily as though they were all the same person. Names and spoken words were fallible back then, but not their trio; we were inseparable for the same cause—

and now he had nothing he could possibly say that would stop the other from walking out his life; eternally and again.

You look so different than before, but you're still the person I adore

Fingers reach out instinctively to grasp at the last of the man's shadow as it passes by him in the moment of thought and rumination

— what if he doesn't want to acknowledge me? 

Frozen with fear – all out of love but I take it from the past; All out of words cause I'm sure it'll ever last—

"Excuse me, please. I know you saw me there; I know you too well." Blanc swallows hard and feels the spit scratch against his parsed throat; and a brief but empty chuckle replaces the silence that escalated the waiting, pounding in his chest.

I've been saving these last words for one last miracle, but now I'm not sure. I can't save you if you don't let me – you just get me like I've never been gotten before.

[blancontrive]

ask anything—

[nge4]

[blancontrive]

You and I both sought stars, but your world was much wider than mine || cyrus

[galactic-leadercyrus-deactivate]

Rain… the motion was calming, soothing on the mind. Although it could sometimes allow thoughts, feelings… emotions to seep into an individual’s mind. Cyrus had long ago sworn off emotions and everything that came with them. The pain, pleasure, and ties that tugged at the heart strings and played cords deafening to the ears.

Cyrus walked slowly through the downpour as the skies darkened more with the aspect of the prolonged rain. Lightening flashed with the thunder sounding closely behind. His blue hair fell flat due to the wetness, while grey-blue eyes shifted around him always alert. His time in the distortion world has taught him nothing, and has greatly prolonged his intentions for this world. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, he continued forward wondering if being out in the open like this was such a good idea… being a criminal and all.

A brief, low chuckle sounded as Cyrus bumped shoulders with a boy of white hair. He was nowhere near the height that he himself had. He stopped and looked the boy over, noticing the way the boy had shifted on his own feet to look at the taller man. Cyrus lifted an arm to slick back his blue hair, basically matting it into its heap of unruly spikes. The smaller boy looked like he was searching for something, but never finding it. “Who are you?”

[blancontrive]

It feels as though the world might drown in that instant – the rogue drops that trickle off the edges of strangers' umbrellas and onto him (unintentionally, Blanc is certain — because for some stupid, indiscernible reason, he still believes people are all born with good-intentions). Still, no one stops him to offer shelter, but it didn't really matter, did it?

Considering all, it is a great big world and to each their own— who was he to impose on the vastness and function of things, anyway? The earth needs no instruction to pivot on its axis and simply exist; and with that, Blanc never questioned how the big picture went;

—even if the "big picture" meant sometimes running into people that would teach us lessons in their own little, very human, ways. Some were kindly like Ghetsis who gave him purpose, and others were brute and imposing with nary a hint of kindness in their eyes. Who are you?— that's what the stranger's voice articulated, though Blanc had yet to see the much taller stranger's face, and opting instead, to study the pattern of raindrops circumnavigating around his paused footsteps before melding into the puddle beneath his feet.

Who are you— it parrots in his mind and starts to feel like an existential question, and by now Blanc finds himself shuffling to get a better view of the questioning voice, half-expecting to see god standing there with a stone tablet in his hand questioning him about what he had done in his life—

Am I dead?

Silence; and he feels invariably dwarfed by both the stranger and his question.

"Who am I?" — the white-haired boy pauses with a brief chuckle and muse, shoulders raised and sagged with a shrug. "I wish I could tell you, but they call me Blanc."

[transcendingsound]

Visit Original Link

Where Is My Mind // THE PIXIES

With your feet on the air and your head on the ground Try this trick and spin it, yeah Your head will collapse But there’s nothing in it And you’ll ask yourself Where is my mind?

[blancontrive]

You and I both sought stars, but your world was much wider than mine || cyrus

With your feet on the air and your head on the ground Try this trick and spin it;

Raining. It’s raining but Blanc doesn’t realize how the droplets have beaten down on his face nor how the wetness clung on his skin and seeped into the fabric of his shirt. It wasn't that he particularly loved the rain, but perhaps it was apt now as per his circumstance; considering how the gloom was paralleled to his reminiscence on the contrast of times passed.

A time where he was happier, perhaps – even if it had taken everything he had remembered of himself and remodeled him like a doll suited to needs; 

Your head will collapse, but there's nothing in it and you'll ask yourself—

Was I happy, then? It was a fleeting thought as busied bodies brushed past him in their haste to get out of the storm; unapologetic glances shot at the fair-headed boy who seemed to ignore the actual happenings around him. It is but rain.. he reasons to himself with a brief chuckle, steps carrying him across the cobblestoned paths with hands in his pockets and exhaled breaths mixing with the downfall. 

—Where is my mind?

[blancontrive]

//mun// 

hello! just putting this out here so more people would see this: Anyone up for a thread? I'm currently plotting with Dark & Mei (I think) and have an open available for anybody's who's interested!  — If you have any particular plots in mind you can inbox me! Alternatively; like this post for a non-plotted random starter and I'll get to it a s a p.

Have a good day, everyone!

[chidokii]

[chidokii]

[blancontrive]

Between you and me; we have a house, but not a home — open

Rumination runs deep; the feeling of incompleteness and vacancy like a black hole where his purpose should be—

—the errant need to protect and a loyalty sworn eats his core away like a moth and paper, but Blanc doesn't care. Not now; where nothing mattered to him save for an irate need to find a home in the loneliness he had come to accept was his fate. It has been months, days, and perhaps even years since he had seen a sliver of his past where he would have been so brave and deemed himself happy — undeserving of it, no doubt; but the smiles in the castle were genuine even if contrived. 

Blanc remembers the dinner table where his lords and king dined together like a family — a real, wholesome kind of mismatched haven that was far displaced from what he expected to have deserved even if he lived his life through tens of times.

Yet, happiness is always short-lived— the reminder comes painful as teeth comes down hard against the lower-lip he had been unintentionally chewing; the copper taste of blood surprising against his tongue, yet none too shocking as a hand was raised to cup the dark liquid that spread over a dry mouth. While crimson stained his fingertips and dampened skin with its moisture, Blanc was merely absorbed and fascinated with how raw it had felt than to find aid for his wound. 

Surely, it must look worse than he feels; and the mothers on the streets are pulling away their children from the "bleeding man" as though he were a monster, shielding their eyes as if it were something sinful to look at.

This – substance that keeps us alive is sometimes an eyesore, was it? 

[blackmagicincorporated]

[seraephs-deactivated20190715]

i love kaworu and i also love gas masks

[shinuix-deactivated20140915]

【落書】music for you