#delightinsecrecy

[antinxus-blog]

delightinsecrecy replied to your post:

I SEE YOU TALKING ABOUT ME

Because ur lame

[lxgique-archive-blog]

Deduce it!

what do you see mr. holmes?

                         “ you do not often go out. possibly, you only exit when you need to. alternatively, you have an occupation which forces long hours indoors. underneath your fingernails, one can see the permanent stains of paint.

                            a painter, then.

                            also, judging by the dust on your jacket, you do not have a woman in your life. you are a bachelor then. a bachelor with few friends for here you are, alone. i do not believe you have many obligations other than the ones you impose on yourself. ” 

[missxscarlet-blog]

"Is that how you always greet a lady?" 

[cupidxjr--archive-blog]

delightinsecrecy replied to your post:like this for an animal fact in ur askbox 

chOKES--

you inspired a nation

[lxgique-archive-blog]

♥ + delightinsecrecy ; u ;

[ meme ]

five points to make a star

i.we actually don’t talk much ( which is a shame ) but you are such a joy to see on my dash! golly gosh, you make me laugh. both muse & mun! 

ii.a really good basil! a great mix of comedy ( remember that convo on grxvis’ text wall? ) and seriousness. you make me hurt in the feels.

iii.because basil hallward and no one gives enough love to basil hallward.

iv.your prose is really nice! it has a great flow to it. ‘tis like air. it floats freely without being tied down by unnecessary, complicated words uvu

v.you’re an actual cutie okay.

[juvenescxnt]

lxgis replied to your post:     "Basil, paint me like one of your french...

dun do it basil. he’ll end up killing you.

Shhhh, what he doesn't know won't --

Oh.

[juvenescxnt]

     "Basil, paint me like one of your french girls."

[juvenescxnt]

ɴ ɪ ᴄ ᴏ ᴛ ɪ ɴ ᴇ || ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀᴜ

     The sun has fallen.

     He notes this as he glances through the window, though his smile still lingers so that he appears to be listening to whomever he's speaking with now. He's quite forgotten the name.

     He's enjoyed the party quite thoroughly for the last few hours -- he's still new to being invited out as a grown man. With the fading sunlight, however, he is beginning to notice how insincere his conversations are. He is reciting facts about himself to strangers, but it is for show. It feels fake.

     The sun has fallen and he is bathed in artificial light.

     He cannot help but to hope that his next interaction, even if it is something altogether meaningless, will be genuine.