#iimmortalisms

[wangerism-blog]

&& iimmortalisms !!

“Um what you mean I can’t do make up? I can totally do make up. I watch our own make up artists do it all the time so you better believe I know the skills by now.” 

[mxrtifero]

[X]

▸ sᴇɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴀ [X] ᴛᴏ sᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍᴜsᴇ’s ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀs.▸ sᴏᴜʀᴄᴇ —— sᴛᴀᴛᴜs ; ✘ —— iimmortalisms

[ IMAGE ↬ ●  ] 

❛ Two things i can’t deny, you’re abeautiful flower and you look toofamiliar ❜

[punchdrunksarchive]

⚡️

my first impression of your muse: she’s pretty mysterious and has some interesting vibe going on, like my muse wants to know more about her and that’s really cool.my first impression of you: my favorite thing about your muse: i don’t know much about her yet but based from the little interactions they’ve had, she seems to be very welcoming and insightful!my favorite thing about you: would I ever consider shipping our muses: not at the moment.a plot I’d like to see between our muses: nothing specific right now but i’d love for them to interact more and get to know each other and have interesting encounters! i’m up for a thread anytime.an AU I think would be interesting for our muses: a tour guide and traveler au where your muse is the guide-- i think that’d be cool since she’s been through decades and my muse would be so curious why her knowledge seems to be endless...

[editorialisms]

▸ ‘ & iimmortalisms ;

                           “The amount of rare paintings in                             this gallery..I wonder how much                            the owner had to pay just to even                               look at these pieces.”

[dohaeun-blog]

Reverie

Reverie: Favorite memory?

*:･ﾟ✧ A very long time ago when I was only eight years old, there was a father-daughter dance that took place at my school. It was the night where I remember my father being the most happy. That evening, all the girls had to say what they were thankful for in their life and I remember saying that my father was the one I cherished the most. If you were there, you could have seen the tears in his eyes and his lips tight with the smallest hint of a smile at each corner. I knew he wanted to grin. I knew he wanted to cry. I knew that my father, the man who had always acted tough, had let down his guard for one night. When we danced, he let me step on his shoes as he led us around the gym and I distinctly remember that when the song ended, I started to tear up because I wanted to keep dancing. So when every other father-daughter duo was off and back at their respectable tables, we were left in our own little world for just a little bit longer. 

[dohaeun-blog]

+ iimmortalisms liked this for a starter!

*:･ﾟ✧ Museums and galleries were her delight. A simple girl living in a simple world that offered her complex pieces of art brought an immense amount of joy to Haeun. Though she was not talented in art whatsoever, that didn’t mean she couldn’t admire those who were. In fact, her inability to create fine pieces of work only made her appreciate it even more. Hugging her black leather purse to her side, Haeun’s café au lait orbs eagerly took in the sight of various works of art. Every stroke and every chisel had a meaning behind it and she was glad to say she could highly esteem each and every display. 

*:･ﾟ✧ One particular painting had caught her attention and she was stuck in front of it for some time, forcing those who wanted to see it to stand behind her. She was short enough, so her height shouldn’t have shrouded their view. With rosy lips parted, she stared at the detail with awe, taking in where strokes of the paint brush began and ended. A woman suddenly appeared by the side of her and looked rather formal, but she couldn’t help but turn her head to glance at her and smile, sharing her excitement. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

[punchdrunksarchive]

“You can’t just sleep all summer.”

iimmortalisms

his blue orbs shifted their focus from the popsicle he was licking and biting to the girl standing beside him at a donuts store queue. a humid saturday, and donuts were selling like hotcakes. his short patience has caused him to mumble things to himself, such as ‘i can just be sleeping the summer through’, which gave him a response in english from the stranger. a warm smile lit up his face.

“hypothetical and wishful thinking, you know? like, if i could, i would.”

[arystotle]

ღ

              Send me a ‘ღ’ to generate a romancy drabble.

                                   9; Pianos and Clockwork. [ listen ]

    When the rain falls over the land, when it drenches his fancy estate and closes him off to the world, he turns to his well-worn in piano. Grand as it is, sometimes Arystotle does not find the time to use it. Ironic, given that he has until forever…

    His fingers dance over the keys as he tries over and over again on the most difficult part of a composition called Clocks, unsure why his perfect slender fingers must fail him when he needs them the most. Frustration fades away when the rain’s cool breeze floats through the open window, and he overlooks the garden from his seat. Inhaling that rain-smell deeply, he allows his eyes to linger on the clouds that mimic his mirror-grey eyes. Arys bears no expression, stormy irises flitting over the sodden landscape as he begins to see the forest for the trees, and turns back to his piano. Every trace of anger is washed away from his motions, and he isn’t playing with ferocious passion any longer.

    He starts up Yiruma’s Love Me and begins to close his eyes, playing without sight. he knows the tune well, timing perfect and key just right. The rain beats on in the background, a mist rising from the moor-like country that is his backyard. He feels the presence in the doorway long before she gets there, and turns to pierce her with his stormy grey eyes. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, but not enough to break through the intensity of the moment. It’s his silent cue, and she crosses the room to seat herself on the bench alongside of him and harmonize to the melody on the keys.

    Long after their song is done and the rain has ceased, the melodies seem to echo over the moors in their sadness and simplicity.