angel to some, devil to others

[ndhoneybee]

Y'all mind if I

disappear permanently

[boksoonie]

“I, of course, was going to get you something bigger, but I knew you’d refuse anything larger,” he informed her. “When you decide to put this ring on, never take it off,” he instructed.

“I’d be surprised if they did make anything bigger than this. Choi Donggil, are you out of your mind?” She hosts mild panic in her voice, nerves translating in wary gaze and teeth trapping her lower lip. The box is cradled in careful hands, apprehensive to even lay fingers on the piece of jewelry. She settles for tilting the box every which way, watching the ring glint in the light. The diamonds were almost intimidating, as if it’ll pierce skin upon contact.

“If I punch anyone while wearing this on my finger, it’ll probably hurt, wouldn’t it?,” she relays in a giggle, amused at the prospect. There’s quiet in silent sigh, gaze trailing to meet his instead. “I don’t know how I feel about wearing this everywhere… It’s too precious… And probably more expensive than my life.”

“Thank you, though. You’re spoiling me. I’ll make sure to keep it with me always.”

[boksoonie]

"Just wanted to congratulate you on being engaged to me."

“Why thank you,” came her reply, cooed in mock haughtiness to match the underlying smugness in his tone, “I could never have achieved that without your help, of course.” She places emphasis with a light tap of his nose, fighting a grin but to no avail. “I’d like to convey my condolences for being engaged to plain ol’ me though,” she teases in faux melancholy with retreat in her demeanour, “I hope you won’t be changing your mind...”

[boksoonie]

damnved: 

( @boksoonie ) in reply to this It’s always amusing to tease his friends, sometimes he’s goes over the top and though he knows he shouldn’t indulge in the act too much he can’t help how he enjoys the look of fear coming across their face or how the pitch of their voice changes as he continues spewing harmless lies. Trying his best to not laugh at the quietness suddenly, he turns to glance at her, eyes rolling at the first words coming from her mouth as he shakes his head in protest. “Of course! I told you, I’ve been sober at work and I don’t have an alcohol problem either.” He tells her a playful pout on his lips momentarily as he lets her have that win, it was becoming far too normal for his friends to assume he was always drinking. It wasn’t something he often did but when he indulged too much it usually became apparent and his friend told him off or just laughed at his failure to control himself around the drinks. He shakes his head at her words once more, taking a step forward as he turns to glance at her. “They say she’s calling for help, it was such a tragic thing and she was so young. It becomes more obvious when girls walk this way because she’s trying to warn you of the dangers that came happen”  he says head shaking when she asked if he was kidding. Of course he was going to blatantly lie in front of her voice, he had to keep the pretense up now he was in too deep. “Since you walk this way all the time i’m surprised you haven’t heard her whispering. Or hey, maybe she’s so used to you she just watches you from the shadows, perhaps she wants to befriend you? She’s still hanging on they say.” It’s strange how his voice gets softer and softer until he’s walking beside her almost whispering as he continues to freak her out, not bothered too much about the dead girl since she didn’t really exist only in his mind and now his friend’s.

Dread washes over her like a cold breeze, chills coursing underneath skin in the aftermath. The growing anger in how her brows furrow deeper above hardened glaring was almost unwarranted, lacing the words slipping past gritted teeth in hushed tone. “I don’t want to befriend a fucking spirit, Aoi! Don’t say that, you asshole.”

She moves on impulse, clammy fingers balled in a fist to deliver a hit against his arm in feeble attempt, the rest of her body as if frozen from nonexistent cold. “You’re such a liar, I swear! You’re just trying to scare me on purpose, aren’t you?” Despite the stubborn nature of her words, it’s worth noting the way she doesn’t let her gaze stray far from straight ahead, only ever daring to spare glances his way. If she were to list her fears(something she wouldn’t be caught dead doing), the supernatural would be near the top albeit her fascination with horror stories. She adopts a different kind of self-destruction in reading of monsters that haunt her dreams for weeks and never truly learns from them.

“If you say one more word about the ghost girl, I’m going to murder you right here. And then you can keep her company all you want. God,” There’s frustration in her tone and panic in hurried footsteps that wanted to get out of there—stat. “And if she follows me home because of all the shit you just said, I’m dragging your ass right back here and murdering you too.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that she doesn’t react all too well to fear. “I’m serious, Aoi. I’ll fucking kill you.”

[boksoonie]

( 📷 → ig @boksoonie ) : 허상인가?

[boksoonie]

( 📷 → ig @boksoonie ) : “모든 것들은 그렇듯 겉으로는 한결같이 보이지만 실은 시시각각으로 변하고 있음을 다만 우리가 모르고 있을 따름이지요.” ... 아름다운 허상이다.

*Picture: The term 'eternity' in itself is nothing more than a beautiful illusion, and living or non-living; everything is bound to change bit by bit. The water that flows down a stream today is not the water from yesterday. Even the stone that rolls down a road has changed from yesterday. All these changes are constantly happening on the surface yet we simply fail to notice them anymore. **Caption: "All these changes are constantly happening on the surface yet we simply fail to notice them anymore." ... a beautiful illusion.

[crxcifix]

I am an impulsive roleplayer.

I let my muse take the reins and decide what threads to start or reply to in a given day. If the muse doesn’t feel it, it isn’t happening. That doesn’t mean that I hate you or that I no longer want to interact with you; I probably either lost our thread or my muse just said, ‘nah bro.’

I’m sorry I drop threads. I’m sorry I don’t reply to memes. I’m sorry I ignore my asks. I’m sorry I plot things and then don’t do them. I’m an impulsive roleplayer: my muse guides me.

Roleplaying isn’t my job: it’s my hobby. I do it for fun. My muse isn’t my coworker: my muse is my friend. We have fun together. If I started treating this as a job, it wouldn’t be enjoyable for me anymore, and the quality of my content would diminish greatly!

And while we’re on the subject, just because a thread gets dropped does not mean the relationship between our muses is dead!! Thread =/= relationship! We can start something new and continue building their bond! Relationships are important to building new aspects of our muses!

I always want to roleplay with you. Just…perhaps not with that thread. You feel?

[boksoonie]

⌚

⌚ - asking my muse what time it is.

“Probably too damn late for either of us to be out and about,” Her reply came in a murmur, barely legible if not for the quiet of the night. She looks up to the stranger finally, wearing an apologetic smile and small gesture in the way she shakes her phone light, showing off the dull black. “Phone’s dead. Don’t have a watch on me so my guess is as good as yours.”

She’s quiet for a second, sigh exhaled only to turn her attention back on the wide expanse of city skyline across the wide river. The spot wasn’t as quiet as she had once remembered, evidently.

“Might be a little over 3 in the morning, I assume,” she continues with a shrug of her shoulders, gaze skywards and finding unhelpful darkness. “Are you lost?” She bears a furrow in her brows, voice loud in the silence to look upon the figure again. Her efforts to make out any of his features falter without success, shrouded in darkness only further amplified by the glaring light of the lamppost that towered behind his form.

She tries to find coherence in meeting a stranger, walking along Han River in the darkness, yet asks for the time of night. Asking for concerns that should long before have been made known. Huh. Strange. “…or drunk maybe?”

send me a symbol starter!

[boksoonie]

📞

📞 - my muse calls yours.

Still the pounding in your heart. Dial tone. Be at peace now. A click, and she’s greeted with the familiar tenor of his voice, quiet and unassuming: hello?

“Jungkook-ah,” she begins in singsong, letting the quiet in between words be graced with soft melody, “Yah, who are you trying to fool with that playlist hm?” She’s certain he’d be able to hear the laughter rising in her throat as she jested, gaze flying across screen as she scrolled down the page. It was rare for her to be on her phone for anything outside of the realm of her work or school, so she’d been days late on the infamous tweet.

“In reality, you only listen to girl groups, don’t you?” There was playful accusation in her tone, laughter escaping her finally, “Is that PRISTIN in the background, I’m hearing right now? Jeon Jungkook, you’re unbelievable.” She trails off with clicking of her tongue in mock disappointment, head shaking as if he was around to see.

“Don’t fanboy too much, eo? Aren’t you on tour right now?”

Her actual sentiments bled into speech belatedly, revealing purpose of her unannounced call. She feigns inattention even as eyes flicked back and forth at the articles that flooded her screen, fans alike flocking to the comments with concerns of their own. He might not have been the actual member in question mentioned in headlines left and right but she couldn’t help but worry.

“Is America treating you well?”

send me a symbol starter!

[etial-blog1]

                                                             you know what to do.

[boksoonie]

🌸

🌸 - receiving flowers from my muse.

soft waves pressed into her hair from having been kept in a bun all morning, boksoon moves to guide stray strands back over her shoulder to focus on the task at hand. “carnations. fascination and love,” she speaks aloud with subtle pride in her tone, fingers reaching below petals to guide the stem into the bouquet. “ranunculus. dazzled by your charms,” she continues, in voice and actions, feeling at ease in the lull of the afternoon. “spirae. bridal wreaths. victory,” she continues with a grin, fingers moving deft over paper to avoid crinkling. with practice-perfected finesse, she finishes the bouquet with a ribbon bow, dark brown against pale paper.

“to,” read aloud a step slower than how swift pen was meeting paper, leaving trail of black ink against parchment, “dylan unnie. study hard and have strength!” laughter leaves her at the corny message, moving sporadically to doodle small hearts all over the page. once satisfied, she tucks the white square in between the bulbs of garden roses, thrusting the bouquet towards the other with a wide grin. “here! you have to accept it because they match your hair!” her warning was in jest, paired with narrowing eyes and an insistent nudge despite her unwavering grin. she was void of concern despite it being an uneventful day, making a split-second decision to gift the other a bouquet. boksoon simply enjoyed the craft of arranging blooms with person in mind. she has always been rather sentimental at her workplace.

“do you like it?”

send me a symbol starter!

[boksoonie]

👻 t

👻 - telling ghost stories with my muse.

If he strained enough, she swore the beating of her heart could combat the sound of their footsteps against asphalt. She tries not to frown too deeply at the way they walked out of step; she has had to adjust her pacing to match his one too many times. But a much larger discrepancy was at play.

“Have you been drinking at work again?” she taunts, concealing the shake of her voice with an arched brow and a sniff in his direction. She catches scent of baked goods and deodorant. The furrow in her doesn’t let up even as they settle in brief silence, eyes travelling in heightened wariness masquerading as nonchalant curiousity over their surroundings.

“It wasn’t the voice of a dead little girl. I’m sure there are probably houses nearby or something…” she trails off to a quiet murmur, features resting in a deadpan like a coping mechanism while her thoughts returned again and again to his totally bogus story of a little girl dying from a freak accident in the quiet back-streets of Seoul. Right here, he had claimed, total mutilation. She was a hair’s breadth away from flinching at shadows.

“Fuck,” she exhales under breath, glaring daggers his way. Expletives. Coping mechanism number two.“You’re kidding, right?”

“I walk home this way all the damn time, Aoi.”

“If a little ghost girl appears in front of me I would literally pass the fuck out.”

send me a symbol starter!

[boksoonie]

#❀ ᵗ ⋮ just putting it out there that with the rapidly approaching demise of AIM, you can catch me on discord at h.ydrangea #4252 or tumblr IM for IC and OOC chats because i’m not planning on making any accounts on any other social media platforms. xo.

[boksoonie]

☔

☔ - our muses share an umbrella on a rainy day.

she’s grossly occupied in ways—countable, tense and shivering under the wrath of winter’s departure. seasons come and go so dramatically and persons come and go in poor mimicry. at least the latter didn’t come with a risk of hypothermia. not usually. the thought comes as reminder why her steps were clumsy, more than usual, why her lips were pursed in a small frown and why one hand was wrapped around the handle of an umbrella while the other was grabbing onto fabric of a shirt collar.

“i’m not giving this to you! you should have brought your own in the first place,” her voice hosts a permanent undertone of a whine in usual boksoon fashion like a habit. or the tattoos that littered her body.

“hong sejin!” she warns, ambitious to berate despite her unintimidating demeanour, “we’re both gonna get wet if you don’t keep still!” and she should have seen this coming from a mile away, really. her paranoia was rarely for naught: evident when a stumble lands her preceding footstep in a puddle.

silence at length.

was it possible to drown someone in rainfall alone?

send me a symbol starter!

[ada-tan]

Symbol Starters~

Send ☔ for our muses to share an umbrella on a rainy day.

Send 📱 for my muse to send yours a random text.

Send 📞 for my muse to call yours.

Send ✞ for our muses to meet in an empty church.

Send ⚔ to challenge my muse to a duel.

Send 😢 for my muse to comfort you.

Send 🌸 to receive flowers from my muse.

Send ☁ for our muses to watch the clouds together.

Send ⌚ to ask my muse what time it is.

Send ℃ for my muse to discuss the temperature with yours.

Send 👻 to tell ghost stories with my muse.

Send 🐩 to play with my muse’s pet (or have my muse play with yours).

Send 😘 to see my muse’s reaction to yours flirting with them.

Send 💅 to do my muse’s nails.

Send 🐎 for our muses to go horse riding together.

Send 📺 for our muses to have a TV/movie night.

Send 🍸 for our muses to have a drink together.

Send 💪 for our muses to workout together.

Send 💤 to wake my muse up from their nap.

Send 🍔 for our muses to have lunch together.

Send 💢 for my muse to get mad at yours for something they did.

Send 😓 for my muse to apologize to yours for something they did.

Send 💖 for my muse to tell yours who they currently have a crush on.

Send 💘 for my muse to ask yours who they have a crush on.

Send 💋 to randomly kiss my muse.

Send 🎃 to carve pumpkins with my muse.

Send 🎁 for my muse to give yours a gift.

[boksoonie]

dijinity: 

//: @boksoonie​ [cont from here]

“Mm, quite a bold move using orange like that, but it works. I do kind of hope you were kidding about puns not being your kind of humour though.” Jin smiled at her. “They’re the only kind of humour I have, unfortunately.”

Laughter is unmistakable in her eyes, regardless of how she has her lips pursed in mock distaste. Amusement spills over in a mischievous grin, soft laughter escaping her. “Don’t worry, i was juice kidding!” her laughter comes out loud the second time, hands batting at the air in futile attempt to come to her senses. “That was the last one, i swear!”

[boksoonie]

❛ we’re too far from help. ❜

she thinks there was acceleration in pace of thudding against her chest in panic, realising belatedly that the organ has never sat idle. perhaps there was recurring fear in sign of life existing in her body. there’s stillness in the air where she sits blinking in curiosity and skin-deep naivety.

“are you…threatening me right now?” her query doesn’t ring completely uncalled for in response to meaningful gaze that lingered half a second too long. she almost cowers. the surprise in her tone was bogus in its entirety, well-acquainted with threats in response to her taunting. alas, she refuses to learn.

“now that you mention it though…” she starts with distraction seeping easily from her bones, “you could totally murder me here right now without hitch.”

“i’d be dead long before anyone comes around to discover my corpse.”

“don’t, though.”

“i’d prefer to die in something prettier.”

send me an asw starter!