#jxsminie

[xktve-blog]

Blue >//<

Blue - You’re amazing.


The only amazing one here is you. { — grins widely. }

[seohyvnnie]

♡ ♡ ♡

For every "♡" I get I'll give tip on how to win my muse's heart.

Be kind to her father.

Teach her and show her things she didn't know.

Protect her, because she's never felt more alone.

[ttaettaek]

jxsminie ... So hard... OTZ

[mdpvrk]

{ jxsminie }

❝ All corny lines aside - I feel like I've seen      you before, I'm not crazy, am I? ❞

[xktve-blog]

jxsminie replied to your post “unf” coughs”

S-sorry. {/hides}

Hm? Don’t be, i should be saying thank you so thank you. { — smiles softly. }

[lxxclara-blog]

Brown Eyed Girls

Favorite Member: GainLeast Favorite Member:   -Prettiest Member: NarshaFavorite Song/MV: ok i don’t know.. Favorite Pairing:  hmmmmmm me with everyone of them LOL

[accixmus]

旦

Send me a “旦” If our muses haven’t interacted yet and but you want us to change that.

        His eyes scanned the area of the small park he had stumbled upon one day, which seemed to be a haven for many of the little children who lived within the city limits. It was kept up to a decent standard, the little plots of grass weren’t dead or rotting away under trash and rubble. It seemed to be an attraction to those who knew about the place.

        Lounging back a bench, he stretched his arms and long legs, unaware of the hindrance it causes, specially considering how sudden his movement was. Marc thought about how someone could trip over his outstretched legs, but he didn't expect it to actually happen, thus his surprise when it did happen. A girl-- thank god it's not a kid. He can't handle the cries of children-- A girl, who appeared to be in a hurry, found her way tripping over the unintentional camouflage of his white pants with the snow.

        It would've been polite to help her out, and it would've been rude if he laughed, so Marc did what's in the middle and laughed as he offered help. It was inevitable, laughing at a stranger tripping. It's in his immature nature to find it funny, but of course he wasn't raised in a pig pen so he helped her out.

        "Are you okay, miss? Be careful next time."

[translucerez]

▲

send me a ▲& i will put our character’s names into this generator and i’ll write a starter based on the scenario that comes up!» Lucia tries to tell Jasmin that ‘It isn’t what it looks like, I swear!’ 

Blood soaked shirt clung onto her convulsing chest, wracking sobs pouring out almost as quick as the sanguine fluid. Her left hand pressed against the gaping wound did little to prevent the blood from slipping through her slender fingers. It was not a sight for the weak hearted, which unfortunately included herself yet miraculously (miracles, she noted, are often glorified to such extreme measures that they were unbelievable) she had not fainted even after the excessive loss.

Instead she sat, the sticky hand threatening to shift at any moment. Maladroitness was a curse she had suffered throughout the twenty years of her life; still such a trait cannot prepare a person, no matter how much experience, and the aftershock of injury damaged reaction nerves enough to render her motionless for the first few seconds after acquiring it. To be fair, it did numb the pain momentarily until realisation kicked in.

A scratch. That’s what it should’ve been. An insignificant graze, easily brushed off with only a pretty little plaster as a token of remembrance. She was sure she had just brushed against the roughness of the wall, but perhaps the wall had a secret weapon of it’s own — a rusty nail or a shard of glass, something which could tear skin with ease. Trust with humans had never existed, but the trust for walls had been completely destroyed; her mentality made out as if this was it’s intention all along (she had developed a sort of history with walls, they were her friends. were.), a calculated attack.

Belatedly, it occurs that dwindling on such things is senseless — action is required. Brining her bloodied arm to her lips, she fails to prevent the wound from worsening in a barbaric attempt to drink up the crimson liquid; a film (or was it a book?) from childhood had instilled this idea that if one is to lose blood it’s only smart to drink it up so that it remains in oneself, minimization loss of blood. Rather it gave her the appearance of a savage, the surface area of which it covers increasing to include the lower of her face.

Another attempt, as short lived as the former, due to the woman situated in her line of vision terror-stricken screams. The shock from such a sound made her jump; submerging from the depths of her muddled mind, a light-headedness evincing all she is. The left hand once more clamps over the wounded right, skin untainted by such gore becoming shades paler, almost translucent. Miracles really were just a sham, concocted by the human race in hopes they may one day gain truth in them. A hoarse voice, barely audible and extremely un-Lucia like, cuts through the banshee screeches of the other female. 

‘It isn’t what it looks like, I swear!’