sanctitas @minssiah-a-blog - Tumblr Blog

need to get active here once again so like this for a starter! if you prefer a specific verse just let me know!

@painridden liked!

« Hyung, I think we’re lost. »

#painridden #“ && i shall rise my hand to start a rain of fire ” ┇┇ STARTERS ;#“ && i hold the destiny of the world in my hands ” ┇┇ VERSE:MAIN ;#i arrive 2 weeks later for a oneliner sc #im so sorry jaskdf

itwasaporcupine-deactivated2014

i am glass but do not call me fragile glass is not delicate and neither am i {{ i am glass because i am [ broken ] }} and the pieces of me are more dangerous than the {whole} me ever was

#“ && will i ever leave these four walls again? ” ┇┇ THOUGHTS ;

saxngjon:

“ then it shall happen sometime down the road, i am sure you will be able to fly again, little dove. “

strong arms going to wrap themselves around the delicate temple boy, holding in close so their chests are touching — firm and soft, he is always so soft and you are nothing but broken glass that tries to avoid cutting on perfect skin. a hum, something that seems so sad like the melancholy autumn showers that cloud the sky in remembrance of a spring day. your fingers brush through his hair and the subtle affection can be seen practically oozing out of a person that doesn’’t seem to care, which is a lie. because you care So much.

“ keep desiring it, dove. i’ll fight for it with you. “

« You’d fight for it? » And in his heart --a single flutter, a sweet one, a sensation he’s never felt except for when the contact between himself and that one shadow-shrouded figure that was the being looming over his figure like a thick, dull cloak drenched with darkness. Yet, despite such grim aesthetics, it was something he felt safe within --a sweet embrace, a loving one perhaps, in which death itself would get such a sweet, sweet taste.

( after all, they’re made to dance alongside each other --like death & the maiden )

Cue, his voice sounding like a timid chirping --voice of innocence within layers of sin. « What is so valuable in me that makes you even want to fight for me? »

#saxngjon #“ && if twice must be repeated then twice you’ll hear ” ┇┇ REPLY ;#“ && i hold the destiny of the world in my hands ” ┇┇ VERSE:MAIN ;

need to get active here once again so like this for a starter! if you prefer a specific verse just let me know!

#“ && i bear the judgement of a thousand souls ” ┇┇ STARTER CALLS ;

taeguk

happy birthday to our talented and lovable, min yoongi ♡

#HappySugaDay, #윤기생일ᄎᄏ

#“ && he is the messiah of silence harbinger of the apocalypse ” ┇┇ MIN YOONGI ;

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. Repost, don’t reblog.

– BASICS.

NAME: fede. PRONOUNS: she/her. SEXUALITY: bi. TAKEN OR SINGLE: ehh. complicated.

– THREE FACTS.

- in one thing i’m definitely your typical italian girl: i fucking love cooking. - i do have a darts target im my room, and i actually use it as a board for pics or stuff to remember ( and not to attach and hit the pics of my enemies *angel emoji ) - i just caught a houndoom on pokemon go and i feel god.

– EXPERIENCE.

HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): i have 9+ years of experience in roleplaying and creative writing, divided in forums, facebook, tumblr and even larp. PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: forums, facebook ( italian only ), tumblr ( english only ). BEST EXPERIENCE: when you find someone who wants to write with you and does write with you --regardless of when and how, that’s always one of the best experience and sensation roleplay can offer! – MUSE PREFERENCES.

FEMALE OR MALE: pretty much anything, it all depends on the muse itself when i start imagining them. sometimes i imagine a boy. sometimes a girl. sometimes it’s some kind of obscure shapeshifting mass.

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: pretty much anything except fluff. i can’t manage to be fluffy and cute and domestic for too long, it bores me as hell and i’m not gonna lie. i like my things spicy and with an aftertaste of freshly shed tears ;D

PLOTS OR MEMES: both, it all depends on the roleplayer i’m with, really. if i feel like plotting with someone, i do approach with a plot or a base to brainstorm with , if not i just send memes.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: i can do both, it really depends on how much i feel the muse that day. sometimes i feel like writing an essay of 8+ paragraphs, some other times i just feel the minimal monosyllables and nothing more.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: when you’re inspired, of course! it’s never a thing i rush, either on others and myself. sometimes it just happens i don’t feel like replying for weeks, while other times i feel like replying every single hour, night or day, doesn’t matter.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): no, definitely. self-projection/self-insertion is a big pet peeve of mine and i always try to avoid it with the best of my abilities. i like to keep my characters completely detached and separated from who i am, i like them being well defined, with them developing their own soul and their own specific mentality as i write them, and even if they might have an experience in common with me, i always try to make them have a different point of view or approach with the issues.

TAGGED BY: @vleuhels TAGGING: @craniumaniac @mckuahine @nevermorx @arrakiiis @ariosely

#“ && this is your god speaking and warning you to turn off the dab ” ┇┇ OOC ;

NOTE: ON YOONGI’S CURRENT HEALTH CONDITIONS

it’s clear that he’s not feeling good, it doesn’t take a phd in medicine to see it. besides the even more evident pallor and the tattered trail of healing brusies and violence signs on his hands and neck, the medical eyepatch concealing a blackish purple mass of sickly folded skin barely laying where the eyesocket is located --and within it a missing, gouged eye ( which is going to regenerate in more or less 4 to 7 days )-- is what catches the attention the most. yoongi’s a trembling mess trying to hide it, blaming on a cold weather that might not be there, or an excess of nervousness. his sleep is light and too easy to disrupt, a mere vibration of his own body barely shifting within the bedsheets. when he’s out ( if actually able to bring himself to climb down the stairway to the secret exit and leave ), his step is wobbly and slightly limping, hands on a healing side and still feeling the sensation of something stabbed deep within the almost healed cut. his lonely eye would be shaky and wide, looking everywhere, almost as if fear is the only thing surfacing and being visible, thin hair look like they’re on the verge of falling, chapped lip reduced to be barely one shade darker than his skin. barely visible, just like him within the crowd.

it’s not the first time he’s this hurt --but this time, it’s just slightly worse.

#“ && figments of godhood and leaking ambrosia ” ┇┇ HEADCANONS ;#“ && i hold the destiny of the world in my hands ” ┇┇ VERSE:MAIN ;#in short: he's fragile and heavily fucked up pls mind this #nsfw #tw: gore #tw: abuse #tw: eye horror

vleuhels:

a smile. oh, a smile. he got himself a smile.

and a nuzzle. a body arching into his own. completely content with where it was. his heart swells with affection. the kind of affection he only feels when he sees his beautiful baby boy like this. he wants to keep him like this forever. he so, so does. and he is looking for a way. and he will find a way. but for now, these short moments are all he has.

eyelids drop, eyes closing. and he presses even closer to yoongi. presses the softest kiss to the boy’s cheek. enjoys every second of it. he doesn’t want to let go, but the sound that was emitted earlier tells him the boy needs something to drink. needs some nutrition. and in his distraction he has forgotten to put the water and the bottle ready. he would curse himself (would not could) for being so forgetful. so he gives himself a few more seconds, which turn into some more seconds. which turn into a minute. only then does he get himself to pull back. let go.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, turning the boy’s face towards him and stroking his cheek. “i forgot to have water ready as well as have your bottle prepared. i’ll go get it now.”

another stroke. another kiss to the cheek.

he slowly shifts the boy back onto the bed. careful and gentle. such a contrast to before. (how unaware he is of that fact.) with another ‘be right back’ he finally turns around and leaves the room at a quick pace. he has to work quickly. (quickquickquick.) before his baby boy is gone. before he loses the affection.

so it takes him under five minutes to get back. (feels like ages.) two bottles in hand. one with water. one with the regular formula. the seraph sits on the bed again. props the weak boy up against his side. he brushes the black hair away from his forehead and traces the eyepatch with the pads of his fingers. even like this, his baby is gorgeous.

“here,” he says in that ever soft voice of his, putting the bottle with water to the pale lips. of course he is going to do it for him. his baby should be taken care of. he wouldn’t let him do anything on his own. not even this.

there was no beauty in all of that.

there was nothing but a stifling sequences of missed opportunities, all flashing away the tired, almost delusional young husk of a boy with a soul greater than the world they were living --all running away just like he was supposed to do with his own two, fragile looking legs when the angel with bloodied hands was away for that fraction of time. it was a special fraction, it had his name onto it, but rather than dilating it just went away so suddenly, the poor victim of this extraterrestrial conspiracy just couldn’t do that because of how weakened by whatever shit just happened he was.

he could barely open his mouth and let choked sounds struggle to get out his dehydrated lips --he’d try to move his face and bare some expressions but what he’d get would be nothing close to what he wanted to achieve. his left side pulsated obnoxiously and felt so hauntingly empty, just like something got stripped away from him. he felt it, void. he wanted it gone. his head was filled with a haunting buzz, and all that white, all that bright, blinding white...

...he wanted it all gone, all of it.

and all of this was crossing the mind of the poor boy, the poor shadow of a human being meant to carry greater things, but sealed away from them so far, to the point there’s nothing but the boy and not the messiah, on the mirror he’s reflecting his face into. while his brain would slowly start to understand the immediate need of focus on those elements in his shock being definitely too off to ignore, he’d feel words able to leave some physical sense of cringe onto him as well as the pressure of something against his lips. his hands still trembled too much to actually try to move forward and attempt any kind of move. he hated it. he hated the white, too.

but whatever was touching his lips, now --it felt fresh, at least. no taste, but fresh, and liquidlike --water. yes, water. that something his aching throat was now asking by aching and almost tearing apart even more and forcing the broken child to let his maw go lightly loose from all the accumulated tension ( under the gaze of a selfproclaimed guardian more similar to the worst type of abuser known to mankind ), and avidly chug more and more of that liquid, feeling it so quickly absorbed by his windpipe, and all of his mouth inbetween.

he felt like he hadn’t a single drop of water in days -maybe that’s why.

and at every single touch he just could feel, so clearly, his stomach revolting in disgust.

#vleuhels #“ && if twice must be repeated then twice you’ll hear ” ┇┇ REPLY ;#“ && i hold the destiny of the world in my hands ” ┇┇ VERSE:MAIN ;#tw: abuse

army-baby-gzb-blog

yoongi’s photos for the wings tour photobook

#“ && he is the messiah of silence harbinger of the apocalypse ” ┇┇ MIN YOONGI ;

whitefall

Visit Original Link

#“ && harmonization of pipe organ in d minor ” ┇┇ MUSIC ;

vleuhels:

he doesn’t let go of yoongi the whole time he is unconscious, stroking his face with delicate touches. the boy doesn’t deserve anything harsher. only the gentle caresses of fingertips and pale lips. the seraph waits and waits and waits. impatient for his little boy to come to life once more. so he can see the love in his eyes (delusional. he is delusional.) and hear the coos of his love returned.

and then finally, finally, he can see the boy stirring. body squirming in his hold. eyelid fluttering and revealing one of the dark eyes (the only one he has left right now). it stares up at him, unseeing. the seraph can feel yoongi press closer, hear him release a soft whine. he is awake and the seraph can not be happier. because as much as he loves watching the boy sleep and care for him. it is always a lot more fun when yoongi can reciprocate the affections.

“hello, baby boy,” he mumbles softly, not even trying to get yoongi to hear him. seokjin revels in the fact that yoongi is clinging to him. something he doesn’t get to see all that often. something he wishes he could get more. but knows he will always be depraved of when it comes down to it. the thought is easily pushed away and his mind focuses on the boy in his arms and nothing else.

he pulls gently at the body, forcing him to sit up on the seraph’s lap. arms are wrapped around the tiny waist, nose buried into the dark and soft locks. back pressed against his chest, he can feel the soft breaths that come from the boy. if only they could stay like this forever. but forever is just a distant dream for now. maybe someday. but at this point he has to treasure the moments they have together.

putting a gentle smile on his usually stoic face. gently rubbing the soft skin beneath the boy’s shirt in a soothing manner. like that he speaks again, voice soft and melodic in a way that he knows will appease yoongi. “i’m here. don’t worry, my baby boy. i’m here. i’ll take care of you.”

Mumbling can be heard by the young man, a voice so familiar in both peaceful and horrendous moments --a nickname reaching his scrambled brain and still being able to make him cringe. He’d squint for a moment, in his haze, trying to piece things together but his head felt like he got hit so hard and violently it was actually difficult to put things together.

( but it felt nice. )

But, still, there was something wrong. Something terribly wrong and he could barely perceive it, in the numbness of his poor senses trying to regain functionality but not managing yet, just as if he’s been unable to move for god-knows how long and now he had to recover slowly, just like a child would. Yoongi couldn’t tell exactly why, or how --he’d try to to make efforts to push his brain only to feel more of those needles and blades piercing his brain with no form of mercy, and systematically giving up, not feeling like he could handle any of the things slowly returning to overwhelm him .

Eyes would squint, the light being so bright. White could be so, so invasive. So hurtful.

« Ah-- » Voice came out cracked, somehow because of how his windpipe would sting in dehydration, like the eye he felt like being unable to open in that precise moment no matter how he tried --one hand trembling, still,when hovering on the patch and letting out a gasp, so hauntingly adorable. His figure would lightly cling onto the only figure so close to him, only to feel sharper pain as his world seemed to spin and his position got changed so abruptly, almost causing him to squeal in sudden distress; he felt overall aching, he wouldn’t deny it, but he could feel some warmth --a warmth somehow genuine to his messed up senses, a warmth able to make the poor, mangled husk to actually crack a smile up his chapped lips, nose lightly nuzzling against the angel’s neck in a sign of ingenuous affection.

( it felt nice, it felt so nice )

Sigh left his lips --sharp, with his figure arching lightly before relaxing onto the older man’s lap, back against the broader chest and the lonely eye slowly blinking, trying to put everything on focus, just to be aware if there was something else beside all that white, infinite white, hated white. He had questions, so many questions everywhere in his skull but no strength or will to actually let them out.

#vleuhels #“ && if twice must be repeated then twice you’ll hear ” ┇┇ REPLY ;#“ && i hold the destiny of the world in my hands ” ┇┇ VERSE:MAIN ;#tw: abuse

saxngjon-a-deactivated20180727

@minssiah

control. control was led with someone holding the chains and collar attached to your neck like some dog. death had spent too many decads in heaven before humanity was even born, even then understanding the tick of the clock. tick. fall in line. tick. sing the holy song. tick. tick. tick. you hold yoongi’s hands, brushing calloused fingers over the softest of skin– no scars, nothing but a clean slate every time but while his touches were soft, his words were not. they carried advice, they carried purpose, most importantly they carried warning. your eyes were burning, kissed by societies greatest failures and advances for you to fall in line to no avail. ‘ it is better to have your wings free rather than caged. i am my own god, my own religion; love myself, hate myself, pick myself back up again if i have to and build a better me. ‘gi, ‘ you smile at the young dove and kiss his palm slightly, laughing at the reaction. ‘ if someone is telling you that they know what is best for you – their wrong. you will find out what is best for yourself and if they keep insisting… be strong. you must. soon you can fly with me, yeah? ‘

minssiah-a-blog

Namjoon’s touch has always been so soft with him, so delicate --almost as if the other didn’t want to break him on purpose. He’d lean onto that touch, letting his hands rest onto the other’s, fingers twirling alongside, a sweet hum always leaving his lips while looking at that one person whose only presence was able to make his heart beat in delight.

« I always thought that was a way to show care and affection. » His voice sounded so naive, lips pursed in a soft smile easily, because it was hard for him to keep any form of worried expression around that one person who has been showing him the world, that one person who was helping him break a routine he felt like trapping him in an endless cycle he couldn’t even figure out because whenever he’d try to pry deep into his memory, everything would get painfully hard to catch.

But he truly, truly wished he could remember.

He sighed softly, his figure leaning forward to rest his forehead on the other’s shoulder. Namjoon’s scent ticked his nose, something so bittersweet he couldn’t help but love. « I want to fly with you, it’s... it’s perhaps the first thing I’ve ever truly, strongly desired. »

#saxngjon #“ && if twice must be repeated then twice you’ll hear ” ┇┇ REPLY ;#“ && i hold the destiny of the world in my hands ” ┇┇ VERSE:MAIN ;

vleuhels:

it’s with great disappointment that seokjin watches yoongi pass out. oh, his body is still moving, but the screams have stopped and it is the best way to see that the boy is no longer conscious. his eyes narrow, brows furrow. he is not pleased. his fist clenches around the severed eye and it pops. fluids course through his fingers and drip onto the floor. but the disappointment has passed within a second, his expression morphing into one of care and affection. the organ falls to the ground - squelch! - and seokjin steps closer.

“poor baby,” he coos. fingers brush along cheekbones. wipe away the blood that, just like tears, flow down. still so beautiful. always so beautiful. his beautiful boy.

he wants to cradle the lifeless body to his chest, tell him it will be alright. because it will. he will protect him from the world. but it’s moot. no point in talking to a boy that won’t listen to him. he looks around the lab and the mess he has created in his excitement. now is the time to clean up he supposes. is it weird that he doesn’t like to clean? maybe. but he is used to being cleaned up after. the benefits of having angels underneath you in rank when in heaven.

but alas, he is not in heaven, so he doesn’t have many other options but to clean up himself. there are definitely more fun things to do with his time. such as take care of yoongi. definitely more fun. so he quickly makes work of cleaning up his utensils, putting everything to the side, before he can finally, finally, turn all of his attention to his yoongi. the boy is still laying naked on the table, caked blood leaving behind red and black patches on the otherwise smooth, white skin. the hooks still keeping the eye wide open, a black hole staring up at the ceiling. it looks ugly and the seraph wants it gone. ugly doesn’t suit yoongi at all.

he removes the hooks after cleaning the wound. there’s no real visible progress as far as the seraph can see, but he just assumes this one will take a little longer to heal than those scratches he has been inflicting on the boy lately. he’s been getting a bit nonchalant in his research as of late. he has noticed. it’s hard to understand why. his eyes fall on the peaceful looking face of the boy. definitely hard to understand, indeed.

sliding his arms underneath the lightweight husk, he picks him up. cradles him to his chest. and carries him out of the lab. he buries his nose into the dark locks, the metallic smell of blood seeping in together with a smell that is just so yoongi. it’s almost hard to let him go and to lay him in the tub. but he still does so, the body falling limp on the bottom. the seraph then goes on to quickly, but gently, clean yoongi’s body from all the blood that has accumulated. the red water flows away. and as seokjin looks over the boy, there is absolutely no sign of anything having happened before. aside from the eye, at least. but with his eyes closed, it is hardly visible. (if one doesn’t know where to look of course.) he’ll have to find something to help cover it up later. it won’t do for yoongi to look anything but beautiful, after all.

and so time passes. too slow but too fast for seokjin. he dresses the boy to his liking. (even adds a stylish eyepatch to match his outfit. how thoughtful.) places him on the bed. tucks him in. talks to him. croons. and coos. and hums soft lullabies. he holds him close. brushes the fringe from his face. does everything a lover does. because in those moments, he is not the scientist doing his experiments. no, he is yoongi’s caretaker.

and care for him he will.

He’s unaware of what happened, at least mostly --barely hearing any sound coming from all around him, feeling himself so lightweight he’d actally suppose he’s resting on soft clouds when the truth was that he’s been lifted by strong arms to be carried away and then surrounded with lukewarm water from head to toe, and treated head to toe by a caring touch he’d definitely associate to loving early memories, something he’d almost lean towards if he wasn’t so tired, so damn tired to even try to put his thoughts in line. not even attempting at remember what just happened or why he was feeling like a huge gap missing, not when he barely could part his thin, rosy lips and breathe.

There was no scent of blood, only clean detergent and perhaps the scent those ambient perfumes he once found when exploring a supermarket with Namjoon. Or was it disinfectant? He couldn’t tell --barely conscious as he was, it was really a miracle he could somehow remember his own name and the fact he was laying somewhere warm and safe.

And if there was no blood to taste or smell, no gruesomeness to see around with his fluttering open eye, no pain ( except for that numbing echo ) actually torturing his body, he had nothing to fear, right? It had to be something created by the back of his mind because of some bad dream, right?

( so his lonely eye opened, and all he saw was white, all he could hear was a lullaby he almost whined along )

And he so vapidly would believe it --it had to be a nightmare, he’d think. Even with the bandaged eye slowly trying to bloom back --that fizzling still easy to compare to some background noise, almost a memory blurred by the way his body was just overwhelmed--, he’d think it was all a night terror in need to be shaken off, or that maybe something happened to him since he was really prone to be clumsy as of late, and the good angel took care of him and put him to rest.

He was confused, he was so scrambled by all of this --his figure only able to cling closer to whatever ( or whoever ) was secured around him and caressing his hair in such a lovingly way, a soft whine from even softer lips echoing within the walls of wherever he was.

#vleuhels #“ && if twice must be repeated then twice you’ll hear ” ┇┇ REPLY ;#“ && i hold the destiny of the world in my hands ” ┇┇ VERSE:MAIN ;#nsfw #tw: eye horror #tw: torture #tw: abuse

‘ i am in control & i listen to no one. ’

@saxngjon ( growling suggestion )

« You’re... »

He’d look at Namjoon with such wonder, the innocent child --he’d look and have his pretty eyes doe and wide, a smile curling his thin rosy lips. Namjoon was someone to admire, with the purest feelings ever bubbling from his heart, someone with such a strong will he’d love to emulate, because he really, really wanted to be as rebellious, as able to take his life in his hands and start to show he could exist in that world, that he could live alongside everybody else.

« You’re truly amazing, ‘joonie. »

#saxngjon #“ && in abraxas’ name i shall give my sentence ” ┇┇ INBOX ;

minssiah-a-blog

&& I DANCE WITH DEATH AND AN ANGEL BY BOTH MY SIDES

( ind. sel. pri. au min yoongi, heavily plot driven & not safe for work )

#reblogging this again for the coming crowd #help would be much appreciated #♥

I MISSED ROLEPLAYING GORE AND TORTURE SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA

#im sorry for scarring an entire dash but at the same time #i am rping something so crazy i love #i love my rp partners so much #“ && this is your god speaking and warning you to turn off the dab ” ┇┇ OOC ;

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