*draws a pentagram and chants something in moon language to summon @insilium from the depths of hell

Origami Around

tannertan36
$LAYYYTER

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Peter Solarz
tumblr dot com

roma★
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

titsay
Stranger Things
noise dept.
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Not today Justin
Monterey Bay Aquarium
DEAR READER

Kaledo Art

#extradirty
One Nice Bug Per Day
i don't do bad sauce passes
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

seen from Malaysia
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@insilium
*draws a pentagram and chants something in moon language to summon @insilium from the depths of hell
anons
“reblog if you want anons in your ask”
“are you trying to hold my hand?”
─── ¨ ☾ MEME
salut d’amour. a somber dissonance of unspoken thoughts. soojung looked so calm and peaceful that morning ( after a night of endless conversations ) her beloved violin tucked under her chin as she plays by the window ( by this time the melody is engraved in his mind ). the hushed whispers of the early breeze are gentle against her hair, pale skin glittering under the warmth of the morning sun - yixing is thankful, for the world returns her kindness in its own way.
it has never been the case for him. he sees them coming by the corner of his eyes ( they are always coming for him ), hiding beneath the structure of time and space. the abyss dominates the ever-growing cosmic plane, whirlwinds of crushing gravity ripping the cosmos and leaving fissures of infinite probabilities.
what if the void tears them apart? what if he never makes it to the end of his promises?
( an unfinished story, like the rest of them, left hanging by the author in the middle of action so that the reader will be left in a state of perpetual longing, begging for the next word until he feeds his own mind with delusional endings.
is he the story, the reader, or the author? incomplete, desperate or apathetic? )
yixing doesn’t know. maybe he is all. maybe he is none.
panic starts creeping between flesh and bones. lungs devoid of air, a trembling ribcage, a throat full of sawdust. hopelessness is the moment when you realize you cannot change your miserable irrelevance and insignificance to the grand scheme of things. each day that passes, he becomes less and less of himself.
but she is here, in this very moment, and perhaps if he holds her hand, he will no longer be afraid.
he tries to reach for her hand ( to save himself and her, too, from the dread she does not yet know ), lips parting to ask for permission - but he ends up scratching the surface of his dreams. when asked, his affirmation is morose; with a sorrow that tugged something buried deep within the chasm of his memories.
❛ yes. ❜
like the salut d’amour he willingly embraces every morning, he would hold her all the time if he could.
❛ maybe. i… even just for a while… ❜
( OH, SEHUN )
- – but isn’t this little play on these lovely words fun? making my monstrous words dance to fame in the bindings of sold novels? spewed from my love, adoration and spite?
as you all know (or may not) – yoo hyejung was created the day the drama was born. which was the 20th of june in the year 2016. the amount of relationships and plots that she’s been in is truly amazing. and i’ve hit 500 followers. wow, halfway to 1000. so! this is y’know, an appreciate post for those who’s been a great help of helping hyejung grow. thank you all for giving me the opportunity to write with you!
Keep reading
why you? because the earth is made of dust and dirt and you are as essential to me as earth is to sky; you give me something to set my sun against.
@insilium & @isctonic. au/oc, selective, lit. kindly reblog/like!
send ‘🔺’ + a color for a color board of our muses / source
❝ You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.❞
green / @insilium
hogwarts house aesthetics
gryffindor: laughter in the moonlight; angry tears and clenched jaws; daffodils; burnt wood still smoking into the dawn; love against hungry lips and desperate fingers; fear so crippling it forces the lungs to expand despite its readiness to sleep; moments alone on the rooftop, sharing a smoke with the sunset; hums because of nerves, glances at every which way because it’s all you can think to do
ravenclaw: being quiet, but never silent; too many mugs perched on a variety of surfaces; a chaotic cleanliness; whispers that are giggles beneath cool sheets, against warm fingertips; toes poking from under cooled duvets; deep inhales of the ocean air, long exhales of something heavy; too many pens, too many notebooks - never enough; roses pressed between nervous fingers, petals gripped but never ripped; lullabies without words; steps and twirls across every smooth surface; thin lace against bare skin; a promise kept silent because it wouldn’t be a promise otherwise
slytherin: happy smiles at the simple things - the simple factors hardly anyone cares to think about; jewelry spewed somewhere in a forgotten box; letters left unfinished on paper, but said through the mind; promises are oaths - oaths are nothing more than empty phrases to be desired; wet sand between toes on a breezy day; the warmth behind closed eyelids on a sunny day, just beneath the shelter of leaves; glances in between bookshelves; a breath let go into a winter afternoon; the feeling of leather brushed over knuckles; scars faded but felt; the hum of a car going somewhere far; back pressed to the wall, nighttime, eyes closed, fingers idle; stories trapped under the pretense of apathy
hufflepuff: a smile that never quite reaches all of the corners of her face; the way he tilts his head; rice, grain slipping between finger crevices; the anxiety of having to let go; post bath drowsiness; napping in the afternoon, curled up in an odd position; being held, being touched, being observed at a distance; charcoal stained wrists and palms - too many ink streaks kissing your fingertips; thoughts, thoughts, too many thoughts; resilience to bend in the face of all; an open window during the winter; laugh even when it’s not true to it can become true; flowers pressed and left to dry; the song sting of a mug; palms just straying for another touch
han solo
ur my leia ♥
I am IN LOVE with your writing! Just thought I'd let you know :)
and i’m in love with your kindness. thank you so much! weeps, i’m very slow, but i try.
I feel like I always make these way too often compared to other people, but I’ve always wanted to appreciate my roleplay partners more than most people, so here I am again with another follow forever… that being said, it’s going to be my last follow forever as from today, I am making all my muses, even jack and juwon, all now closed and private, and obviously selective. I will only be writing on with the writing partners I’ve made to date for reasons of the semester starting up again and medical school and all that fun barnacles jazz.
because of the number of people I consider friends, and the number of muses I have, I’ve decided to break the follow forever into two parts to keep it more organized and short (HAHA who am I kidding) – this one, for juwon, and also a part two over on @runest, for people I consider more writing partners on jack’s account. I didn’t want to just link people as I really wanted to take out the time and write a little blurb for each person. I really hold all of you dear and I hope this will be a small confession to you all.
to everyone that I’ve tried to link and list on here: I just wanted to say thank you for everything. for writing with me, for dealing with my non-responsive, always extra, always clingy ass. for dealing with my screaming and my pcy trashiness… thank you for always having the caliber to deal with someone as ridiculous as me, as both a friend as a mun and as a roleplay partner. thank you. sincerely, from your local beyonce fanatic.
Keep reading
▲
▲, 4: my muse’s reaction to your muse holding their hand for the first time
surely, the fingers intertwined with his belonging to the gentle artist that is jung soojung was a reflection of reality. he had never believed in existing in a dream in an almost realistic sense but the sensation of her clammy skin, smaller hand with his has him thinking twice.
to think he was a creator of more profound, more audacious, more incredible worlds with his hands, his words.
jung soojung delivered very much the same in the contact of his hand.
why? he does not know, and fears for his life in his terribly mortal body. (by gosh, this woman existed to throttle him from his carefully painted existence.) jung soojung was profound on her own, and this every fact was – indeed, painfully mesmerising on the heaving poet’s chest.
could you believe it? this mind that is encased in his fleshy, bony head. oh sehun is taken, in the pure touch of jung soojung. the innocent glance and sheepish interlocking of fingers has him like this.
sehun had conquered even the most complex of women into his cotton sheets, mewling and in his horrendous, nitpicking hands. but holding this artist’ hands, her fingers that have known shades of regret and hues of pity – that she purposely found her fingers to his hateful, spiteful bones wrapped in disgust and mortal flesh is beyond him.
how could someone like her find herself to someone like him in this, grotesque human form?
(she must’ve been or is a goddess in her lifetime, there is no way his perspiration, palpitations thrust him in a frenzy like this.) she was the woman he deserved to write about, he deserved to be int he mere presence of. she encapsulated the qualities the classic woman he had droned over and over for.
no this is not reality, this physical closeness.
taking her hand in his and to his lips, he had waited too long to have something most desirable, delicate in his clutches.
(he’d write about her for an eternity, the way her lashes batted, fingers inched and lips quirked. an eternity, he’d tell you.)
send me “☽” and i will pick a random tarot card and write a starter based on its meaning ( source ) ` for: @aurze ! / status: not accepting.
#11: wheel of fortune (good luck, karma, life cycles, destiny, a turning point)
{ `수정 ; high noon, watercolor mood: she stares and does nothing but, just as an art enthusiast would upon the lined displays inside of an art gallery, or as a lover should their significant other at the break of dawn whilst they lie atop a dented mattress and beneath cotton sheets, daylight washing the murky walls;
she stares until she realizes, with exposed embarrassments, the long-forgotten days of springtime and adolescence, of clasped hands betwixt frost and uncut grass,
of warm smiles, bare feet, the smell of lilies in her hair, of fleeting eyes toing and froing between the fence, ( naiveté and curiosity juxtaposed. )
she feels compelled to speak, yet is obliged to stay in her seat. the hour passes, air quiet, her fingers along with those of everyone else in the room smeared with lead, moving constantly as the instructor roams freely.
bemused. all the while, she struggles, finds him almost too difficult to replicate on paper.
( you’ve put in a lot of detail on his face, her art teacher says, peering over her shoulder, his mouth, especially. how long did you spend on his mouth?
not long, she responds. soojung hopes he doesn’t hear. )
+
tipped paint, airbrushed, overfamiliar: an hour felt almost like three. she waits for the room to empty and takes the opportunity to walk near, sketchbook in her palms, her heart inside of her throat and his likeness marking coarse paper.
overcuriosity is overwhelming.
she lets him, though almost timidly, glimpse her work (her own portrayal of him — a him she scarcely remembers), the words on her tongue those that only he would understand:
“ wie gefällt es dir ? ”
☽ winks
( STATUS: MEME NOT ACCEPTING. ) | strength.
STRENGTH CAME IN MANY, DIFFERENT WAYS but to Seungjae, they all had to be physical, somehow. The idea of emotional strength was foreign to him, maybe because life had treated him with kindness he was so undeserving of, but when he looked at someone like Soojung, maybe then he was beginning to understand.
She was fragile in so many different ways that he feared he was going to break her, if his touch was too aggressive or his words too harsh. Being no supporter of handling someone else with kid gloves, it only seemed to make sense for the raven-haired male to treat her the way he was accustomed to, the same way he had been raised by strict but loving parents. Sometimes, he figured, you had to face what you were afraid of in order to grow as a person and learn from the mistakes you had previously committed, or had yet to commit.
(Maybe he wanted to see what it would feel like to see her breaking apart under his touch.)
But there was more to her, and he could sense that. It wasn’t just the sadness that seemed to be looming over the female whenever his gaze settled on her (sometimes for too long, sometimes for not long enough) and even though he couldn’t figure it out just yet, even though she kept her lips tightly shut together about whatever it was that had forced her to be this way, the male would find a way to get her to talk about it, no matter if he too, needed to apply force in order for her to be honest with him.
As of now, majority of their interactions consisted of her disapproval or disinterest, and him being hellbent on changing that, somehow. It was pathetic, and a younger version of Seungjae would scold him for going after a girl the way he was chasing Soojung but it happened less out of romantic interest (though that was indeed a present factor) but out of genuine curiosity to see what a small, little thing like her would be capable of doing, if he kept on backing her into a corner she couldn’t escape from.
Maybe she was a lot stronger than he acknowledged, he thought to himself, when he pressed her back into the wall before his own pair of lips came crashing down on hers in something that spoke of hunger and pressure, but also a strange sense of care and desire.
And maybe, he was taking something she was not yet ready to give but to hell with that.
whispers hello friends hmu me on aim @civencia
“They’re always haunting my sanity, so I’ve encased them in my marble.” i. / ii. / iii.
soojungie
{ `수정 ; “ that — isn’t exactly a name within my ideals, but hearing it from you makes it sound pretty special, i suppose. ”