#sepulcres

[anomxlie]

( cont. from here )

@sepulcres

women take offense to almost anything. even if she was one, she never quite understood it. maybe because sarcasm seems to be very popular lately. but all the hiding celebrity could feel at the moment was exasperation. the woman in front of her was carrying pastries. she could see that they created a white line on her already porcelain wrist. “no,” she answered, tearing her gaze away from the plastic bags. they looked freshly baked. and juyeon being juyeon, she had skipped lunch in favor of training for her comeback. it was hard, but she finally looked back at the woman, taking in her features underneath the shadow of her baseball cap.

“i never implied that you were fat,” she answered simply and politely. “but whoever’s you bought those must be really lucky. they smell delicious.” she smiled, though still keeping her head bent down. she wasn’t planning on causing a commotion today. “i apologize for sounding so rude.” her eyes widened and she grabbed the woman’s arm, pulling her closer to the buildings that stood just by the pedestrian lane. there was a student riding a bicycle in full speed who rang his little bell to ask people to move to the side. she had managed to pull the both of them to the side and was relieved, only to see some of the pastries the woman had bought.

and what was worse is people just walked on top of them, crushing them.

“i--”

juyeon froze, looking at the sad looking mush on the pavement. “i-- i’m sorry. again. i... i’ll pay for a new batch to replace those. and also help you carry them.” she looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “they looked so good...”

[dahuism]

fries of the french 🌺

@sepulcres “French fries are not a breakfast food.” It pains me to say that Dahui fundamentally disagrees.

“I––” So many things she could say, so many small issues that arose from such a short sentence within her airy world of daydreams and messy hands, that they overwhelmed her.

Of course the tiny voice of protest at the back of her head screeched with disdain: Consider the small fact that breakfast is a social construct and therefore should be spoken about with a grain of salt. Consider the fact that empty calorific value of french fries does not change, no matter the date nor time. Consider the fact that I am an irresponsible twenty-six year old artist with limited funds who normally opts for a glass of red wine for supper. Please! Leave my dietary habits alone to fester, leave my insides to rot. 

In reality she could only cradle the warm fries to her bosom, like a mother covering her child’s ears and protecting their feelings. Her rounded doe eyes tried to silently communicate that one does not schedule the fries of the french. They screamed that cravings do not get penciled in, they come and go when they please...but with a zipped mouth she only looked guilty. Dahui felt a little guilty too for reasons unbeknownst to her; as an advocate of indulging in every day pleasures, she couldn’t, for the life of her, understand why the words of another person deterred her so easily. 

“I...I like them.” With the conviction of a scolded school child, she stared down at the golden sticks, fresh, crispy, fried to perfection and her fingers moved on their own, hovering over the perfect fry before–– Chomp. Gone. Dahui, you little rebel.  

[heliaeth]

“You’re a terrible cook.”

` & ( MEME ) ACCEPTING!

SEVYN DOESN’T COOK HER OWN MEALS, she hasn’t done anything near the stove since she moved into her own apartment and tried her very best to make ramen——apparently only to somehow burn the pot and a lock of her hair (resulting in having to cut it to the chest length that she keeps it now). The officer has never had very much luck or talent in cooking, so when she’s trying her very best to do something for Hyerin and she’s told the truth that she doesn’t want to hear? It’s disheartening.

At least she’s managed to not burn the place down (she’s really only capable of making coffee). The twenty-six year old woman stared blankly at the dish in front of her before frowning a little bit——“It can’t possibly be that bad.”

[adamonite]

“Sorry, were you sleeping?”

There are only two good reasons as to why anyone would find Alec passed out in public. 

Aside from suffering from a severe case of night owl, he also tends to fall victim to comfortable spaces that feed into the innate need he has for some warmth. He’s used to constantly being cold, but with the weather as warm as it is he might as well be a bear just at the peak of hibernation. 

It becomes clear to the mutant that the subway is not the ideal environment for any nap, as the tap against his shoulder brings him out of the heavy drawls of his drowsiness. Alec is too sluggish and slow to register his surroundings in the slightest, and for once his guard is completely down. Luckily, the voice he hears isn’t menacing. He wouldn’t have to scold himself for dozing off later. 

“Sorry, were you sleeping?” The woman seated next to him asks. 

Alec politely shakes his head before replying, “Only a bit. But if it weren’t for you..I would have missed my stop, it seems.” His eyes follow the flashing lights that signal the traveling course of the vehicle they’re in. He doesn’t ask as to how she might’ve known, but he doesn’t forget to express his thanks afterwards. If she hadn’t woken him up, he’d still be sitting there asleep on some uncomfortable material on the trail to nowhere. 

“Thank you for waking me up by the way,” Alec straightens, “I really do appreciate it.” 

[crauwul]

“You’re my voice of reason. I need you with me on this.”

Gone Girl Sentence Meme. 

Her presence had become something frequent within the last few months; petite frame often found lounged over the arm of his couch whilst plush lips spill of both idle thoughts and covert worries reserved solely for his ears. He had done the easy work; weathering away at the fragile coating of protection people often wore like walls against their skin. He had picked right through every fragment of hesitant trust and filtered words until she was nothing but bare skin laid before eager eyes that hid behind false security. It was just all too easy.

But of course he would have gotten nowhere without the practiced routine of dressing himself as something weak, vulnerable and identifiable. He clothed his past in half truths; the only honest piece remaining being that a struggle once resided here, but it was nothing like the broken and battered image he’d presented. Today was no different than any other day where she would seek comfort in his cluttered home, and opinion in his words.

Ginger movements attempt to make up for the calloused set of hands that meet trembling skin in soothing strokes to accompany an attentive stare. He plays his part with heightened brows dipped in worried curiosity whilst their gazes appear frantic in their need for each other, and it feels like reassurance meeting it’s seeking companion. He cloaks his words in empty promises that sound so heavy, so full of meaning, and so full of truth when they meet her ears in hoarse whispers that become the foundation of their isolation. 

“I’m with you. I’m always with you– you know that, right? Whatever this is you can tell me. I’m right here.” 

[winterblves-blog]

When You Wish Upon a Star & Little April Showers.

When You Wish Upon a Star: What is something you’re wishing for?

[ ❅ ] — ❝ A cute tall boy to sweep me off my feet. Uh… maybe some kind of… break; like.. just a week or two where I don’t have to work or worry about school or anything. ❞

Little April Showers: What’s your favorite time of the year?

[ ❅ ] — ❝ Answered. ❞

[blvckmgc]

☟

Send me ☟ for my muse to turn back into their younger self, with only the memories that lead up to that age.

      Teenage years coincide with living carefree, getting emotional over miniscule problems that you’d forget the more you’d mature from the hyperactive hormones taking the reigns. Hara felt that she was robbed of any stereotype, feeling as if she’d been forced to grow up far too soon. Sixteen and slinking around in baggy clothing to hide what lay underneath, mastering the art of deception with a curve of her lips and of thick, heavy makeup to hide the unwarranted marks on her tender, fair skin. It was like a job at this point. On the clock her performance would ensue – a smile here, a giggle there. Volunteering to stay behind and clean the classroom even if it wasn’t her turn and she’s done it for the past three days. Wearing sweaters even when the blistering sun tried coaxing the long sleeves off. She was diligent in following orders, never once close to slipping else the consequences be dire. She wouldn’t live to register how bad they may be.

      Yet when the curtains are drawn and solitude brought a semblance of relief, her uniform would fall to her ankles and she was herself again. Slim arms decorated in purple shapes, some older, yellow and in the midst of healing. Others were a dark purple – and they were the ones that needed extra time to cover up. Make up could only hide so much.  Physical Education was her least favorite class. The shorts and sweating was never a good combination. Those were the days she skipped the most, save for winter where the reprieve of sweatpants came to the rescue. One time her teacher caught sight of a bruise on her ribcage the day after her school called about her lack of attendance in said class. Her mother shoved her down and called her worthless. Hara landed on something hard. She blames herself for not falling somewhere better. “I’m fine,” Hara said with a convincing smile. Something about her sincere expression was enough to sway the teacher. “What happened?” They asked. “I fell off while riding my bike. I landed on a big rock. That’s my fault, though. I was too busy looking at some flowers at a shop to pay attention to where I was going.” What a convincing thing to say. She’d always been clumsy in their eyes. All her bruises were proof of that, right? “Be careful,” they said. “I will,” She said. 

      She didn’t know where she was at the moment. Perhaps her dissociative tendencies had gotten her lost again, though Hara didn’t recognize this part of town. It looked nothing like her hometown, in fact, she was positive she was far away from the little village-esque atmosphere. Busy streets and towering buildings loomed over her small demeanor. How did she end up here? Though she couldn’t complain. If she wasn’t back home then she wasn’t with her mother – and that was her goal up until this point, wasn’t it? To escape? Seek solace in freedom, unbound by chains, wings stretched and ready to take their first lesson in flight.

      She doesn’t know why, but her feet take her somewhere that seems obscurely familiar. An ice cream shop with bizarre flavors. She chooses the Chia seed ice cream solely because she’s never heard of it before. The cashier rings her up, says “Thank you for coming in today, Hara. It’s been a while! You look different.” which left the young girl confused. She’s never met them before, why did they say that? 

      She wanders outside, and she thinks and she sits and her half melted ice cream started attracting bugs, so she throws it away. As she washed her hands in a public restroom she found after asking for the nearest one, she meets eyes in the mirror with a stranger that makes her heart emanate with warmness. It had nothing to do with attractions, though, don’t get her wrong, she was lovely. Hara just had some odd sense when it came to people. Some people she would meet and her heart would feel warmth – like the feeling after taking a sip of tea after being out in the cold, or when relief flushes over you for the littlest achievements. Some people made her chest cold, lungs frozen with pure winter air that had her coughing. She tried to stay away from those people. 

      Her mother used to make her feel warm. Now it’s just a frigid tundra when she approached Hara. Who took away her mother’s warmth? Was it her father when he passed on?

      “Life is weird, don’t you think?” Her voice sounded so small, even she was unsure if the other woman heard her. “Sometimes you end up where you least expect, but maybe that’s where you’re supposed to be.”

[traelmont]

“Why aren’t you ready yet, we have to leave! …Or are you going like that?”

Accidental insult starters,

He’d been told only few guidelines in regards to the dress code for the occasion: Not too casual, but not too formal. A perfect balance in between is what he’d thought he found, wearing a white long sleeve button down shirt and a pair of dark black pants that fit snugly against his thighs. He thought it’d all been fine, that is, until he’d witnessed her reaction.He glances down briefly at his wardrobe, a confused look dancing across his features while raising his gaze to meet with hers once more. “I’m–” He cuts off at a loss for words before heaving a sigh and throwing his hands to the air in a defeated shrug. “Well I guess I’m not anymore.”