#phobetxr

[qvaerit-blog]

phobetxr:

"What am I doing?" he repeated the human’s question quietly, remaining still at the other’s nightstand. Talking to humans when they woke up from their nightmares was actually a lot more entertaining that he had originally thought before. He liked the way they gasped for air when they came into consciousness, almost like their dreams were drowning them. One day he hoped they would completely. It’d make his future plans a lot easier. "I’m just here to meet my favorite idol. I’ve been a fan since the entire- well you know," he mirrored some of the rude gestures the singer did in those infamous photos years before and grinned. "I’m sure it’s not anything you could forget."

He propped his hand onto the wall beside him and leaned down a bit to get a better look at the man still laying down. Even in the darkness of the bedroom he could make out the large and confused eyes. Perhaps he wasn’t used to strangers in his room, but Elijah had been here numerous nights. Whispering doubts and insecurities into his ear, celebrities really did have such a low self esteem at times. Money, success and talent didn’t keep the nightmares away. Nothing did. “Did I interrupt you though? Were you having a pleasant dream?” Nothing was ever pleasant when Elijah was around and it was something he was proud of.

        it's not like simba ever expected to wake up from a deeply unpleasant dream, one with the roots of his biggest fears and concerns embedded in every turn, only to find a man, shadowy and suspicious, standing at his nightstand. he was never all too smart when he had just woken up, either; he sat up and rubbed at his eyes, simply staring at the figure in confusion and a slight bit of worry. he focused on what he could first take in: "a fan...?" despite the groggy daze clouding his mind, simba had the decency to flush just slightly at the memory of his photos, a select few moments that he had wished to erase for many nights like the present. "i though' people wouldn't like me aft'a that," he mumbled, averting his eyes briefly, "rather than becomin' a fan."

        feeling scrutinised and very reasonable vulnerable at the way he was look over (like he wasn't a person, he thought, eyes flickering between the stranger and the wall in front of him; like he was a test, or something of the sort), simba was quick to take a few deep inhales, followed by snappy exhales, almost forceful with the wish for all to be a dream. no strange man in his room, no nightmares. it would have made things a lot simpler if he could have nipped himself and woken up for real. "i..." he was hesitant to answer. there was a cold sensation grabbing him by the back of his neck, telling him that the question was not so genuine; that the man already knew the answer, anyway. "i did, thanks," he lied, the words rolling off of his tongue with any shakiness disguised with sleepiness. "now..." he began, pulling the duvet away to sit on his calves and get a proper look at the strange man, "you know who i am, but who are you?"

[archive4selentieun]

"It's your choice, now you have to live with it."

"It's your choice, now you have to live with it."

Naeun doesn’t need someone to inform her, notifying her a second time when she knows the first time. She isn’t perfect, she’s the complete opposite is what comes close to the person that she is. Lips pressed together, breathing through her nose and it slips out between parted lips. The female’s choices isn’t the exact best, there were times where she was bound to mess up from time to time. It happens to everyone eventually anyways.

“You know…” Her words emit out rather softly, not wanting to interrupt the silence that rested into the strong tension between the pair. She isn’t one to speak up for herself, not that she felt like she never had anything to say; the arguments that can lead into one comment, that’s all she didn’t want after speaking a couple of words here and there. And she doesn’t understand how Elijah can speak so freely, how anyone could during that point on.

And she’s grown to realize, she picked the choice of becoming spoken down to as if she’s too vulnerable most of the time.

Which she’s not, people have limitations and one can break inside of the petite girl sooner than later. Eventually. “I don’t exactly need you to tell me otherwise.” It’s frustrating, when someone needed to remind her even if it was one time only. She understands, despite her not speaking about it vocally. Therefore when she said her thought that rolls off the tip of her tongue, an apology comes after it.

Because she’s also used to the idea of constantly apologizing for her actions whether she’s wrong or right.

“But yeah, I’ll.. keep it in mind. Can we just move on from it now?”

[sentimentalscientia]

Fangs and Claws, Shadows and Nightmares

Footsteps echoed off the cold tile. Stopping once the figure settled at the far end of the room. Though the wolf paid it little mind. Mesmerized by the display that by some fortunate circumstance had become permanent. A few artifacts from the viking era. Hatchets, chain mail, carved figurines, and the thing that caught her eye. A broadsword. So well kept there was only traces of rust on the dull metal. The wolf silently mouthed the small inscription along the blade. 

She was drawn by the piece for reasons none of the other patrons would guess. Swept up in stories the sword recalled, she missed the approach of the museum's only other occupant. Finally pulled from her trance as he settled near. But not because of the sounds. His scent had ripped her from pleasant musings. Ripped being an apt description of what had occurred. There was the subtle tinge that identified him as nonhuman. A god to be precise. A common place enough thing. But the part of his fragrance unique to him set her on edge. Something dark and twisted. Images elicited by the scent sent a chill down her spine. As subtle as possible she eased away. Palm moving to cover her mouth and nose. The smell was almost painful. But she wasn't ready to move away form the display just yet. She may have visited it numerous times already, but she was always compelled to linger.

[vladium]

Random Sentence Starters:"Hello? Anyone in [..] to phobetxr

Silent but still audible ticking is heard through the shop that Vlad owns. He probably even lost the feeling that the clocks ticked over and over    

     ' tick             tock                   tick                        tock '

Is all that goes through the store which as of now had no one in it other then Vladmiri and his Doll Assistant who roamed freely around the shop. You could say she was there to keep him safe but she's also there to keep him company -- the real reason she was even created by him. ' Lily ' he calls her. She was probably his second best work with the tune ups and fixings of a big clock she's been with him for many many years. Vlad's been around for very long time and during those times he lost so many friends and the death of those dear to him that he's meet through his immortal life he just didn't think he could go on like that any longer. He was better than the depression he felt for a century . The life like dolls were his babies and he cared for them just as they did to him and though they couldn't speak ( yet ) they never left him to feel alone any longer.

Today was a new day for Vladimir but it was also the slowest day he's had in a few months. He's fulfilled all of his jobs and has gotten paid handsomely for the clocks he's been working on. He knew the sky was the limit when it came to clocks, they could resembled even the hardest things and in this life there's always going to be a need for clocks. No one wanted to lose track of things and time was literally everything to people. The dinging at the front of his store alerted him and Lily both- but with the flick of his wrist he shut her down and moved past her before heading out of the backroom. This man wasn't anyone he knew so he couldn't trust that they weren't here to harm his creations and he needed to keep them safe.

❝ Hello? Anyone in there.❞

Though the male's voice was calm it was still hard to figure out what they were here for, but he didn't want to be so quick to assume they were bad yet either. Moving though another door Vlad voiced out that he was nearing them and peeked out with a warm smile against his lips. The male on the other side of the counter was a new face to him, he never forgets the face of others -- and he's seen many people, but he couldn't pin if he knew this male or not just yet.

His smile flattened as he now stood in front of them and eye'd them.         

         ❝ Hello sir, how may I             help you today.❞

[vixtorix]

♛

♛:If you want a short story about my characters past

"I heard her parents were killed right in front of her.. ""Poor little thing, it must’ve been traumatizing for her..""She’s so young, she shouldn’t have to go through something like that."The whisper of those words repeated themselves over and over again in her head, she hated being pitied, she wasn’t weak. Did it hurt her? Did she cry? Of course she did, but that was for her to know, not for other’s to keep trying to find out. She wanted to be strong, people were making it hard for her to take that big step forward (she wasn’t sure she ever could anyway). Why did her grandmother have her tail along to parties like this anyway? They weren’t for her, she only wanted to stay in her room— keep to herself. It was always like this when she went out with her grandmother, it had been years after her parent’s deaths and she only wishes the “harmless” murmuring about her would stop already. It had her balling her fists at her sides as an attempt to calm her want to lash out at these people and tell them she didn’t want their pity, didn’t need it."I hope they find the people that did this to her.. they deserve to be jailed."That was it, that was the last straw. She knew it wasn’t a person or two who killed her parents, hell, they weren’t people at all. She tried to tell other's of this so many times, but they constantly pushed it off as her trying to find anything to get over it. Her nails were digging into the palms of her hands now, and the looks of 'understanding' and words of sympathy continued."It wasn’t a person!" She finally screamed out at the people that were staring at her, though trying to hide it— her eyes were now shut tightly because of her outrage. "It wasn’t a few people either, there weren’t people at all!"She hoped this time maybe someone would listen and believe her, but when she opened her eyes to look back up at the people, all she could see were looks of sadness for her. Of course, they wouldn’t believe her. She didn’t need them to, she’d find a way to find the thing that did this and make them pay, she didn’t need any of them.

[vixtorix]

"Is that blood behind your ear?"

Victoria had been sure that the small scratch she received on the side of her head just a few nights prior was nothing to be worried about. It was often she found herself wounded when she left the house unknowingly to her grandmother at night to "save the world". She would have thought the gash down her arm would have given her more trouble than that small cut, but that wasn't the case-- even after that mark had healed (it left a scar in it's remembrance) the one on the side of her head continued to give her trouble, she didn't know what was wrong and nor did she want to see a doctor and have to come up with all the many stories on how she obtained such a cut.Her hair was up in a lazy bun today and as always, she failed to remember to do her makeup-- her baggy clothes weren't much help either, made her look slothful. She was only out to study at the library again, something she normally did on her free time so she could study, learn things she couldn't because college was an absolute no for her. Many people were usually at the library as well, so it wasn't odd for her to engage in small talk with a few of the people who frequented there often.She was sitting at a table today all by herself, reading a book on sea creatures (she found water life far more amazing than what lived on land) when she heard someone''s voice, "Is that blood behind your ear?" She  would have likely ignored the comment if she had not been having trouble with a cut that was in the exact same place he asked was bleeding. So she placed her back down, open to a page about polar bears, so she could look to the side of her and to the man that was standing right next to the chair she was seated on. She slowly brought a hand up to touch the side of her head and sure enough, it was wet with blood. After removing her hand and bringing it down to her vision, all she could do was laugh-- a soft laughter. Her hand was stained red, that beast really had found a way to make her suffer or remember his death, how funny."I guess I am, thanks for the head's up."

[bvmkvy]

☢

☢ for my muse’s reaction to yours abandoning them

This is ridiculous, Kibum thinks as he watches Elijah taking a step back with a small smile on his face. He takes notice of the slight note of remorse in Elijah’s curve of his lips and it’s enough to send a hot flare of anger through his limbs. He takes some steps forwards and makes an attempt at reaching his shirt to bring him close, but he stops half-way.

He has read there are four (or seven? He doesn’t really remember) stages when one deals with an event that is far too heavy. He snorts and feels the weight of mean words hanging on his tongue, ready to be spat and hurt like claws. But he’s better than this. He curls his hands into fists and shakes his head.

"So this is it, huh?" he asks, eyes away from Elijah. "You come in here to interrupt my peace. You come to tell me you aren’t quite what my eyes meet. You mess up with my reality and disrupt every single thing I saw as normal, and just like that you tell me you are leaving."

The disbelief washing over his feature is clear just as the flow of things unsaid he’s making his best to suppress. When he finally looks back at Elijah, his eyes are slightly red, and his nose is also becoming puffy.

"How comfortable for you," he spits, angered by how this is the only hurtful thing he allows himself to tell him because no matter how much damage this is causing to him, Elijah is still someone dear. He should be outraging and pointing fingers and accusations, because Elijah taught him so much about himself that Kibum knows he won’t be the same ever again. "You said you were different," he says with a mirthless chuckle, "I thought it wasn’t just because of how literal the statement was that you had said so. But now I know I was mistaken. It’s all my fault. I was the one who thought you were different."

He shakes his head one more time. There was a life before Elijah. There would be one after him. He closes his eyes and pinches them shut for a good moment before he starts making his way back home. Elijah wasn’t asking him to tell him to stay. Kibum had thought about doing that. About convincing him to not leave him. But halfway through this he realized it was to no use. He is hurting and he wishes he could have taken some of this on the man with the dimpled smile. But the faster he closes his heart to this, the faster he will recover.

He continues to walk. His heart is beating fast, urging him to turn around and look at him. But his head has always known better. He carries on, and when the urgency to look back is too much, he bites the inside of his cheek and closes his eyes tightly.

[denuor-archived]

☯

☯ : Do they believe for every darkness there is a lightness? If not, why?

     Holden would like to think he does, but most of the time he isn’t entirely sure. The “darkness” in his life still has yet to pass and by now he is starting to believe it never will. Though he may act as though he is calm and content— his mind is, and forever will be, a dark and twisted place. Until he finds closure that is. But Holden still hopes that one day this darkness will be overcome by a lightness, have his heavy burden finally lifted off his shoulders. He hopes that one day soon his mind will be free of the blackness that consumes it, and be replaced with a more peaceful mind those already assume he has.