❝ We're both damned to eternity, cursed to live while our souls bleed and the stench of decay stains our every waking thought. dictionaddicts -- semi-hiatus
RULE 1. You can only say GUILTY or INNOCENT.
RULE 2. You are not allowed to explain anything unless someone messages you and asks! Now, here’s what you’re supposed to do… And please do not spoil the fun. Delete my answers, type in your answers and tag 3-10 of your friends to answer this.
Tagged by: narsadismx
Tagging: Everyone i know already been tagged, I think? Kmortale
1. Asked someone to marry you? Innocent.
2. Kissed one of your friends? Innocent.
3. Danced on a table in a bar? Innocent.
5. Had feelings for someone whom you can’t have? Guilty.
6. Ever kissed someone of the same sex? Guilty.
7. Kissed a picture? Guilty.
8. Slept in until 5 PM? Innocent.
9. Fallen asleep at work/school? Innocent.
10. Held a snake? Guilty.
11. Been suspended from school? Innocent.
12. Worked at a fast food chain/restaurant? Innocent.
13. Stolen something? Innocent.
14. Been fired from a job? Innocent.
15. Done something you regret? Guilty.
16. Laughed until something you were drinking came out of your nose? Innocent.
17. Caught a snowflake on your tongue? ...Guilty.
18. Kissed in the rain? Guilty.
19. Sat on a roof-top? Guilty.
20. Kissed someone you shouldn’t? Guilty.
21. Sang in the shower? Innocent.
22. Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? Innocent.
23. Shaved your head? Innocent.
24. Slept naked? Guilty.
25. Had a boxing membership? Innocent.
26. Made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? Innocent.
27. Been in a band? Innocent.
28. Shot a gun? Guilty.
29. Donated blood? Guilty.
30. Eaten alligator meat? Innocent.
31. Eaten cheesecake? Guilty.
32. Still love someone you shouldn’t? Guilty.
33. Have/had a tattoo? Guilty.
34. Liked someone, but will never tell who? Guilty.
35. Been too honest? Guilty.
36. Ruined a surprise? Innocent.
37. Ate in a restaurant and got really bloated that you can’t walk afterwards? Innocent.
38. Erased someone in your friends list? Guilty.
39. Dressed in a woman’s clothes (if you’re a guy) or man’s clothes (if you’re a girl)? Innocent.
40. Joined a pageant? Innocent.
41. Been told that you’re handsome or beautiful by someone who totally meant what they said? Guilty.
42. Still have communication w/ your ex? Innocent.
43. Cheated on someone? Innocent.
44. Get totally drunk one night and you have an important exam tomorrow morning? Innocent.
45. A total stranger treated you by paying your fare? Innocent.
46. Get totally angry that you cried so hard? Guilty.
47. Tried to stay away from someone for their own good? Innocent.
48. Thought about suicide? Guilty.
49. Thought about murder? Guilty.
50. How about Mass Murder? He's committed genocide Guilty.
51. Rode in a stranger’s vehicle? Innocent.
52. Stalked someone? … Guilty.
53. Had a girlfriend/boyfriend? Connor voice I don't do boyfriends Innocent.
54. Gotten totally drunk during a holiday? Guilty.
When you give up as soon as you open customization. Too tired to give a fuck I'll do this shit later y'all can drown in the ~mystery~ while I take my sweet time.
I apologize for not keeping in contact as much as I should. A lot has happened recently.
I would write it all here, but as you know I’m not very big on talking about anything too serious. I’m getting better at it, but I think it will still be a while before I can voice it at all.
It isn’t difficult to make a good cup of tea, but I think the feeling has to be right. When someone you know cares about you and gives you a cup of tea it’s much different than just receiving it from a cashier. Trust me; I’ve had plenty of tea to know this. Everyone seems to make it in the same way (despite it being a bag or just the leaves) but the satisfaction you get from taking that first sip is different from person to person. It may sound ridiculous, but it’s true.
The tea you make for me is good. I’ll always appreciate it. There is a reason why I bother you for it.
- Sehun
PS: And I’ll always pick you up when you call me drunk.
We will
re-write history in
the grooves of our palms
we walk with a modern day
revolution
between our teeth
stained with blood.
Choke out the legends
in our lungs
after sticking toothbrushes
down our throats,
Fuck the wars
fought with weapons
forged from
steel and iron
we are here to
fabricate an empire
from glitter and gold
and with
words of sin
tattooed on our tongues,
we will tear out
the holy inside us,
inside of our bones,
with butcher knives.
Who the fuck says Apollo can't fall in love with Hades.
`maybe his expression cracks at the edges for a second, once monotone washed with a combination of irritation and disbelief ( something along the lines of i hate you ), but it drains away into subtle amusement, barely noticeable on his features — a rarity he finds himself in front of a plastered Taemin, scenario often flipped if he had to be honest with himself ( though he rarely is ); he scoffs at the slurred, drunken remark, slamming the door close in their face in the universal sign to fuck off.
So the purpose of this meme is to give a little info on your muses without having to rely on others to fill your ask with meme questions. I know how disappointing it can be to come back to an empty ask so I wanted to create a meme that anyone and everyone can do (mun and muse). The rules are simple, you do not need to be tagged to fill out the questions, but once you have you must reblog and tag 10 of your followers to spread the love (as well as add a question of your own to the bonus section). You can fill it out as many times as your heart desires (we all know muses can change with their character development.)
Tagged by: K-sung.
Tagged: Everyone I wanted to tag has already been tagged so eheheheh he.
muse:
10 Questions:
1. What is your favorite word?:
I have none.
2. What is your least favorite word?:
Again, I have none.
3. What turns you on?:
Why are you interested in my sex life?
4. What turns you off?:
Again, why are you interested in my sex life?
5. What sound do you love?:
Silence.
6. What sound do you hate?:
Imbeciles screaming profanity. There's nothing attractive about crass behavior.
7. What is your favorite curse word?:
I don't curse.
8. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?:
Does this have any actual point.
9. What profession would you not like to do?:
I'm guessing no.
10. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God(s) say when you arrive at the pearly gates?:
Heaven is the last place I'm going.
Bonus Questions:
1. Something most people don’t know about you?:
This is becoming more and more irritating and less and less tolerable.
2. Sexual Preference?
Either is fine.
3. What position do you sleep in?:
[unanswered]
4. What if someone told you…you HAD to lose, just this one time?:
What are you even babbling on about.
5. Greatest fear?
[unanswered]
6. If you could leave one thing to be remembered by, what would it be?[unanswered]
7. If you could choose what you would like to be reincarnated in your next life, what would it be?
Child, statistics say I'll still be around when you're reincarnated into your life after the next.
8. What do you keep on your nightstand?
[unanswered]
9. What do you think of your mun?
Strange. Annoying. Slightly obsessive. She gets worse mood swings than a pregnant woman on steroids. Also never stops complaining about her back.
11. What’s your favorite thing to do in your free time?
I don't usually have much free time, but I enjoy reading when I do. Novels, mostly.
12. What are some notable merits and flaws?
[unanswered]
13. What is a habit you have? (ex. biting your lip, keeping things neat, looking at the ground, reading out loud without realizing it, etc.)
[unanswered]
[ I admire anyone willing to put their writing out on a public forum, but I sense you’re looking for people to follow, so I’ll list some. And this does not in any way even begin to say how many people I actually admire, or that I admire one over the other, but it’s definitely more than five. There’s also a blog roll below the cut. This is long, but I’m going to use it as a reference if I’m asked again. Sorry mobile. ]
The first time he calls you holy,
you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
The second time,
you moan gospel around his fingers
between your teeth.
He has always surprised
you into surprising yourself.
Because he’s an angel hiding his halo
behind his back and
nothing has ever felt so filthy
as plucking the wings from his shoulders—
undressing his softness
one feather at a time.
God, if you’re out there,
if you’re listening,
he fucks like a seraphim,
and there’s no part of scripture
that ever prepared you for his hands.
Hands that map a communion
in the cradle of your hips.
Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
He confesses how long he’s looked
for a place to worship and,oh,
you put him on his knees.
When he sinks to the floor and moans
like he can’t help himself,
you wonder if the other angels
fell so sweet.
He says his prayers between your thighs
and you dig your heels into the base of his spine
until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue.
You will ruin him and he will thank you;
he will say please.
No damnation ever looked as cozy as this,
but you fit over his hips like they
were made for you.You fit, you fit, you fit.
On top of him, you are an ancient god
that only he remembers and he
offers up his skin.
And you take it.
Who knew sacrifice was so profane?
And once you’ve taught him how to hold
your throat in one hand
and your heart in the other,
you will have forgotten every other word,
except his name.
{; Lithe fingers comb through honey-brown tresses, natural highlights glimmering gold beneath artificial lights he deems far too bright for his own tastes; metallic sweetness lingers faint on his tongue, teeth habitually scraping over the plump of his lip until skin peels from worn flesh. His footsteps echo through white-washed hallways characteristic of these flawed judicial systems, boasting welfare of the people instead of the corruption rotting away this entire nation beneath structured concrete and multi-colored billboards advertising the latest Gucci perfume -- because 'there is no grey when it comes to justice, only black and white.’
He moves effortlessly through winding corridors and sliding glass doors; passive, beautiful, menacing in all the ways humanity labels everything it cannot understand. }
“Sir? Do you have an appointment?” {; The words come from a petite little woman, tight-lipped and dark haired, aged 25 to 30, possibly Caucasian. Overworked and underpaid as well, from the looks of it. }
“Why would I need an appointment to meet my husband?” {; He sounds more indifferent than mocking even though he’s literally bullshitting his way through homeland security (more so for his own personal entertainment than anything else); he looks at her and sees nothing beyond the cracking composure underneath crimson smeared lips and a pencil skirt with a slit half-way up her thigh – she is as objective to him as the black leather clutch he grasps between curled fingers, perhaps less. It’s quite expensive while she is obviously not. }
“I didn’t know he was married--” {; She fumbles with the words, running french-tipped nails over the hem of her blouse for lack of a better thing to do; her expression darkens with each passing second, from surprise to confusion to ill-concealed disgust. The silver cross hanging from her throat serves as a memento, a reminder of her faith in an absent lord and beliefs born from nothing more than human prejudice. In the end, a diamond-encrusted collar is still a fucking collar. }
“I doubt you know anything about his personal life, love, since that really isn’t what you’re getting paid for.” {; His gaze is drawn towards the clock sitting atop a desk he assumes to be hers, what with all the paperwork stacked up a mile high – 12:08 AM. He doesn’t care enough to notice the scorn stretched taut across her features in the guise of a smile, the ends of her lips twisting upwards in pretend warmth simply because it’s part of her job description, limbs turning stiff beneath the weight of how mediocre he makes her feel. She’d call him conceited. He’d call himself blunt.
Strolling past with all the conviction of an Oscar winning actor slash pathological liar, he presses against carved oak doors, knocking once and then twice before he steps in --leaving polished wood wide open behind him. Long strides take him toward the taller male, familiarity tugging at his lips before he presses them firm against Kai’s own, arms wrapping loose around broad shoulders and all the attention he brought with his arrival is quickly forgotten, replaced by burning hatred within prying eyes before she turns on her heels, the muffled click of her pumps against Italian carpeting fading slow until they die out completely; such outward displays of affection are unwarranted for inside these homophobic political walls. He can’t be bothered giving a damn. } Ready for lunch?
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