#aentisid

[deadprxsident-blog]

😳

            SEX+ROMANCE HEADCANONS!

                            status: not accepting! 

       “ 😳 : What was my muse’s worst romantic/sexual relationship? ”

         - –  this is actually a long answer. in plotted terms, her worst romantic/sexual relationship was this love triangle of sorts back when she attended high school in LA. she had a loving boyfriend throughout her sophomore, junior, and senior years, but she was cheating on him with a fling she had during the latter half of her junior year. it was both taxing and exhilarating for irene – taxing because she was so emotionally torn between the two and disappointed in herself for failing to be the perfect girl she wanted wants to be, but exhilarating because being with that girl definitely gave way to irene’s sexual orientation and her sexuality in general. either that, or in unplotted terms, she had another love triangle of sorts where one party wasn’t clear on what she wanted with irene ( leading to much confusion between the two ) and the other, whom irene basically treated like a rebound, was obviously head-over-heels for irene, but was never there for her.

[deliacate]

Veins: What gives you the biggest adrenaline rush?

body parts headcanon meme ❀ ▸ ​ meme status: accepting! // @aentisid

Veins: What gives you the biggest adrenaline rush? 

It’s the late night rehearsals, sprained ligaments and tired feet--- it’s the sore on the heel of her foot and the callouses on her toes that makes ballet so tiresome. But ballet is her life, the fire in her passion and there isn’t anything she’s dedicated herself in longer than she has with dancing. And if there’s anything that gives her all of the adrenaline rush, it’d be the feeling of standing on stage during solo rehearsals, heat of the bulb against the delicate flesh of her skin as she moves gracefully through the dance floor. 

[caroire-blog]

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

ATTN: @aentisid​, FROM: HERE, STATUS: ACCEPTING.

Gaze dropping onto the oversized shirt she had adorned, it didn’t even occur to her that it was the male’s shirt she’s been wearing-- especially not after having kept it for too long (and considering her much too massive closet, really). It took a few seconds, but recollection slowly kicked in at quite the wild night they had perhaps a few weeks back, which perhaps explained his shirt being accidentally left behind when he left in that flurry. “This is yours?” She asked, head still in somewhat of a daze after being woken up abruptly by the sound of her doorbell ringing way too early in the morning. Well, 9 A.M., but still-- early. Hand raising to her mouth to cover a yawn, she soon moved it to rub at puffy eyes before shaking the lethargy off quickly. 

.... And though she did try, the exhaustion laced within her next few words were impossible to miss and it took a whole lot of energy just to keep herself standing upright and awake (just barely) enough to continue the conversation with the sudden visitor. “Please tell me you’re not back for this shirt because then I’ll have to change out of it and then wash it, and... trouble.” She emphasized on the last word with a soft huff, head shaking once. “But apart from that, one-- why are you at my door this early on a Sunday morning; and two-- tell me you have coffee with you, or you can make a good cup because I might need three to get me through the day.” 

[nineteen94]

@aentisid

Jinri has figured that she doesn’t understand herself after all. 

It was just past midnight when his texts drags her into the unforgiving breeze of Seoul, she is not obliged to do anything he asked her to, especially not after the breakup after high school. But she does so anyways— what miracles can habits tattoo into her veins, the spider veins that once flowed of the blood that tastes like the wilderness. It is 12:04AM, the girl breaths a soft stream of air that marked the lone streets of Seoul— the city of dreams, and perhaps the reason why she personifies solitude is for the remembrance of her defect of a dream.

He has probably assured himself once again that the world out there is too monotonous for a blaring soul like his own, for he haunts her soul merely as a weekend entertainment. Jinri has pictured uncountable scenarios of her walking out on him, yet not long has she realised that he is stained in her life, his word tainted in her dreams, his sole existence besmirched her, and he finds satisfaction in witnessing her downfall. 

Jinri has figured that she doesn’t understand him as well. 

Jinri’s hands clenches onto her phone as the girl settles in front of his apartment. It is almost 1:00AM and she can’t quite fathom what drives her to rush here upon a text— to her, he will always be like a drug, she knows— with clarity that excruciates every part of her; that whatever is left in between the two, is wrong, indefinitely wrong. But she seems addicted.  

Her hand frozen on the door knob, contemplating if it is a wise choice to just walk into his apartment— after all, it is not normal for him to keep the door unlocked, not even when he is anticipating her arrival. Jinri sighs as she pushes the door and makes her way into the compacted space that she has familiarised herself with from the past years— yet something was differently, utterly different.

There are clothes everywhere, especially those female undergarments that stings her eyes. 

  “What the actual fuck!?” the girl almost find her cursing pierce through the night sky, she was known to be calm— too calm they always commented. Yet at the very moment her clenched fist is not longer able to hold in her anger. “Song Minho, why must you humiliate me that way—do you find it funny—” Jinri’s wrath is pulled to an immediate halt upon her sight meeting two naked bodies, she should have guessed the moment she entered the house yet the girl can’t hold in the disgust— it was written all over her face when she burst out of the room.

[deliacate]

〈 🍒  —-  replied from here for @aentisid 。〉

〈 🍒 〉––     ❝ You’ve wasted it all on alcohol! ❞ Nahyun should have known better that the other would just end up going around the bar, begging for more drinks than he could handle. The young woman’s obviously had too much for comfort and she always knows when to stop. Though that isn’t much of a problem but Minho could be-- she needs to get him home soon because of errands tomorrow afterall and she doesn’t know when to start and how. She shakes her head and tugs on one of his arm, rummaging through her hand bag to give the bartender some spare change for the drink they’ll be leaving behind. ❝ We really should go-- it’s getting so late. ❞

[pennchoarchive-blog]

AH

PIN MY MUSE ( accepting //  @aentisid   // fury. ) 

Her flesh burned where his touch met her, the wall cooled her back as her body burned with rage. The fire burning inside his hues only matched her own. How dare he come back after months of disappearing, her hands brushed against his chest to keep him from getting closer. She could feel the rise and fall of his breath, frequent and rapid – much like themselves.  

The club’s music played over his voice and she couldn’t hear a word – the look in his eyes – the grip he hand on her made her body shiver. Her hair stood up to give him a standing ovation. “Get the fuck away from me. I didn’t come here to see you.” She leaned closer to him, a gentle whisper in his ear before her hands shoved his chest away from her. They were explosive – they always had been, love and hate was a fine line that always burred when they had too much to drink. Rage was another word for passion and white lies and empty promises were their love songs.  

She ran her hands though her soft amber waves, a sigh left her body as their eyes met. “I came to drink – leave me alone. You were the one who left, fucker. So do what you do best and leave.”

[aekure]

           @aentisid

— ❖ There it was again, that feeling she would get around particular people, there were always those that she’d pass by without receiving any impression or thought whatsoever, but there were also those she’d keep her eyes on, that would draw her to them and make her interested, and this last option was how she felt about the taller male, not too far away. Something interesting about him, she didn’t know what but was bound to find out, June would always act upon her feelings, how else does one find new inspiration and creativity? ‘You look like a little lost lamb.’ She states as she moves herself to stand beside him.

[deliacate]

old lace.

Send A Shade Of White 〈 @aentisid​ 〉▸ meme status: currently accepting!

old lace: what’s something you should throw away, but can’t? what value does it hold to you? explain.

❛ It isn’t like I have to throw it away or something, rather, it’s something that doesn’t hold much significance anymore because I can’t wear it anymore. It’s a pearl rhinestone bracelet my mom gave me when I turned a year old. It’s the first present she got me, and the last thing I remember getting from her. It’s the sentiment that counts for me, I suppose and that’s why I can’t dispose of it. ❜