I g n i t e @ncminseo-blog - Tumblr Blog

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I didn’t know that the war was still inside you, that there was a war to begin with, that once it enters you it never leaves—but merely echoes

Ocean Vuong, “A Letter to My Mother that She Will Never Read ” (via weltenwellen)

#( in the same vein; )#( in this story we're still a disaster / finding salvation in hellfire; )

first light.

@nckeon

—— the grief / is stuck inside me, a poisoned apple / that won’t go up or down.

she remembers in fragments: the white of his shirt. soft murmurs. the beat of his heart beneath her ear, a steady rhythm that anchors & lulls. fragments; pieces together that form a picture one-fifth out of reach.

the belly of the moon turns as dawn approaches. she leaves him in bed, in warmth, limbs whittled with lingering moonlight. his shirt hangs on her frame and she takes comfort in his scent, as if it could chase away the ghosts nestling beneath her ribs. but they are stubborn creatures, raging with an altered love, biting at the tail end of her thoughts.

last night was drowning the past in the bottom of a bottle - this morning is no different chasing numbness ( brother, i replaced your hand in mine with a gun. what would you think of me now? ). she’s fissured with blue & muted bitterness. half the glass is already gone when she hears his footsteps. she’s stuck in grief’s trapdoor, down a path she doesn’t want him to follow, doesn’t want to leave breadcrumb trails to. but it’s too late - bottle & half empty glass signalling to him like neon signs.

“did i wake you?” she turns to face him, heavy gaze noting the tiredness in his features ( she shouldn’t have called him last night ), combing a hand through his mussed hair gently. it’s light & devastation, swallowing shadows to reveal fractures. & when dawn comes, it tears through echoes of mourning, her voice leaking tenderness. “it’s still early, love. go back to bed.”

#nckeon #( first light; )

all the texts babe 💕

Send “✆” for a MORNING text.

( satan’s spawn 💞 )

( ✉ ) morning satan

( ✉ ) ,,i mean handsome

( ✉ ) satanically handsome !

#nckeon #///im half asleep and this took waay too long 😩#( tag tba )

nckeon-blog

rpmememaker‌:

Send “✆” for a MORNING text. Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. Send “☎” for a RUSHED text. Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text. Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text. Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text. Send “#” for a RANDOM text. Send “@” for a SCARED text. Send “&” for a LOVING text. Send “%” for a CURIOUS text. Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text. Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text. Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.

#( meme; )

arsenic;

@ncliying

empty glasses && raucous laughter — the crowd grows rowdier as the night progresses. minseo peers down at the dance floor a level below them, far from the sweaty crowd in the comfort of their booth. she could see everything — the girl stuffing capsules into her silver clutch. the man bumping into another, the shattering of glasses amidst the loud music like a sound echoed from far away. some girl jumping onto a tabletop, shoes smacking loudly. another joins her and the dance suddenly becomes a lot steamier, both too high or drunk to care.

minseo’s skin prickled with a feeling all too familiar — an itch, a weight sliding over her form. she could almost tell what he looks like without shifting her gaze: a good suit, probably a little grey at the temples. he would be watching how her lipstick stains the glass in her hand as she finishes her drink, would then slide his gaze to the pretty companion beside her. she stares back, watching him watch the executor. good black suit. expensive. grey streaks in his hair. it was all too predicable the way he nods at them, a hesitant smile unfolding across his face.

“how adorable,” minseo says in mock amusement, leaning back into the velvet booth, back into the shadows. “i bet he’s married too.” sure enough, the ring gleamed in the dim light as he moved. by all means, this would be a ripe hunting ground had minseo not grown bored, preoccupied with another game and its own brand of arsenic. what use did she have for pawns when the queen sits next to her?

she takes liying’s half finished cigarette and raises it to her own lips. she’s a little drunk, the chandeliers above twinkling like stars as she exhales smoke. envoy and killer — deadly duo engaged in a game only they know how to play without ruin. painted lips curve into a half smile as she hands back the cigarette, fingers brushing against hers. anticipation thrums in her veins, all sweet && heavy, something unresolved. her black dress hikes up, revealing more skin as she crosses her legs, intent laced in every subtle action. “i heard something about you flying to hong kong again next week.” the man still stares at them, and minseo’s smile tightens. “—will you be gone for long?”

#ncliying #( past; )#( arsenic; )

✦*.･ hi all, thanks for the warm welcome! im bec and minseo is my baby from nc’s first run but this time with a whole new backstory. she’s a big sibling, a sweet-faced killing machine. here is her profile / bio / plots. below the cut is a short version of her bio & some more about her. click that heart if you’d like to plot & i’ll msg you~

#nc:plotcall

timotaychalamet

Helter Skelter (2012) dir. Mika Ninagawa

#( in the same vein; )

lifeinpoetry

… you want a heart in this life, you pay for it.

Sylvia Plath, from “The Fifteen-Dollar Eagle,” Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams: and other prose writings (via lifeinpoetry)

#( in the same vein; )

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