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note

I have officially moved blogs (but same muse)! for many roleplayers, I am one of the few who require a restart. This will now become a still lifeless blog. if there are those who wish to roleplay, I will be more than happy to do so! 

this has become a blog that follows and no longer writes. 

if you wish to roleplay in future, please message and i will be more than happy to respond. otherwise, I will stick to the other as it will be simple and minimalistic in regards to ooc and ic (more ic o’course!) So like this post or send a simple a message and you will be heard. 

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♤

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debates on a restart

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Hi all, I am extremely sorry for disappearing. I am still recovering from life.

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@esperiums

Nestled in the palm of her open hand is a crane. A paper crane with delicate wings and a strong beak, each corner folded with the uttermost care. It represented but one of many other cranes just like it in appearance, each imbued with a special and powerful brand of magic. The same magic that flowed through her veins, the very source of her existence. “You have spirits that are like friends, and friends that are like spirits. How to differentiate between them if they are one in the same?” The hybrid regards him with a fond gaze filled with warmth and familiarity. At one point, she lowers her head and gently blows at the crane, her soft breath giving flight to its wings that now flutter with life. It glides gracefully towards him, whimsical and light in the way it danced around him before it came to perch on his shoulder. Wishes woven into paper wings, magic that gives life to the heart’s desire; this is, and has always been, Terra’s gift to him.

Her smile does not fade. It grows with each passing moment. She thinks that this must be his own particular kind of magic.

”I carry them with me, - within me -, wherever I may roam. There are times when I cannot see nor hear them, but I still feel them near. It is how I know they are there at my side”. The ties that bind transcends all. It cannot be undone by the passing of time nor undermined by the transient. “Should I call you immortal? I’ve made you divine by keeping you in my heart”. The mind may forget, time may forget, but the heart will always remember. Immortalized. This is how one creates an eternity.  

Terra moves closer, slowly closing the distance between them until her arms reach out to embrace him. She allows herself to bask in the warmth of someone dear and indulges in the contact - a rare display of affection on her part given her withdrawn nature. “How wonderful it is to see you…”.

Was it that familiar smell, the lingering colour of her cheeks that caressed the arch of her cheek bones would have any man's heart pound in ecstatically from her very appearance. It was a vivid memory that had faded in the pages of his memories as black and white. For her very existence had brought colour off it’s pages and life into his bones; her existence was a dream that never ended. She was a friend that he cherished so deeply, he himself had failed to understand the integrity of his own emotions and feelings when it came to her. 

Unfortunately for the mad man, he found himself staring -- to which many knew that it was impolite to a lady -- and found himself fixing his posture. Standing tall with a familiar smile that nearly matched her own though Cheshire may have minded such a fickle thing for this man, with fish pie involved of course. Ringed digits that outstretched briefly to catch the familiar token of their friendship; missing for his reaction was too slow -- too childish. “Such is why, I have friends as like you.” Tiers that curved even wider, flashing teeth in a similar fashion. Just as she naturally carried, a magic that lingered in her bones that brightened his world. 

He quickly moved to his own pocket, realisation evident as his brows raised and his expression quickly changed to one of recollection. Slipping his hand into his blazer, he pulls out a single object. It’s frame was almost poorly maintained as it’s wings appeared wrinkled from it’s travel. But he carefully pulled it apart in it’s folded form before placing it flat upon his now open palm to show her. “My companion in the shadows, you see she’s gone weary with the darkness of what was once home...” Words trailed off before showing the posed crane to her.  “Once again, we think the same, my dear Madame E.” He chuckled to her suggestion quietly, tipping his head to one side in response. “If I am immortal, then perhaps I may be a book that you never choose to stop reading as a book’s pages may disappear but it’s story never dies.” 

Dongwoo was an introvert though his extravagant personality underlined a more exuberant individual. But his reaction was almost impulsive, wrapping his own arms around her petite form, he embraced the young female before him into a heartfelt encounter. Her scent, her hair - though it was now as golden as the rays of the sun itself - and her very physique now gently moulded with his own before he pulled slightly away to see her face. “I have missed you, my dear friend. For I feel as if the sun has returned and the clouds have disappeared once more to see you again.” 

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Don’t Stop Me Now - Queen (Jazz, 1978)

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❛ Tell me — has anyone ever believed you when you told them not to worry? ❜

"To worry? For why would one worry, when there is so much tea and joy within this world, for I see no need to truly and most certainly worry as that is nothing but a simple little myth to toy with your very bones and to your toes, my dear! For to worry is as nothing as the sand between your toes." A wide impish grin found itself twisting between his tiers, as violet hues grew childish with glee as it always did upon such little riddles. For this was like cotton candy for a toddler with the attention span of a puppy. Hands now raised to beneath his chin, cradling the surface by using the back of his hands to position his chin between the makeshift bridge. 

“Do tell me, if you truly have ever, worried for even the littlest things. For worrying is to breathe and to breathe is to worry.”

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all these dANG P0RN BLOGS why

i mean i enjoy the booty and the tattas and all bUT PLS NOT WHEN IM AT WORK  on tumblr!!11

you don’t bring sand to the beach ok 

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Monsieur Jang, would you be so kind as to tell me a story? Perhaps a rhyme or two if you have a moment to spare for a weary mind. Just a moment is all that I will beg off you. -- Madame E

The male’s heels clicked together, as his legs swayed beneath his seat as he read the note, lips pursed almost childishly as he pondered on his response to the simple little request. How was one to tell a story. A story, you see? Of what he was not sure he could recite today. Oh what a story, what was there to tell on such a quiet day?

Long digits that now tapped the surface of the desk before one story had come to mind. He sat up straight, as all good men who told stories knew, looked to the ceiling and began.

“Once upon a time, there was a dog who lived in a zoo. He was called, Mr. Bark. Mr Bark loved to travel, you see. He searched the sea, land and the air for treasure. For Mr. Bark had a nose that knew what it wanted. And that was always treasure you see, Madame E.” Now Dongwoo began moving his hands to gesture the motions of searching with every word to accentuate the search for treasure on a dog’s tell-tale story. “You see, Mr. Bark was a curious little fellow who most truly searched for the best that the world held for him. One day, Mr. Bark came across a single seed. This seed, you see, held magic. At least, that was what the note said. There was no one else he could confirm with. This seed may be as magical as how Jack’s was, but only you and I know how that story ends.”  

Dongwoo chuckled, his ringed digits now raised from the table, the pads now pressed against the other as he leaned forward. The rings clicked with the swift movement before bringing them both flat onto his lap. “And so, Mr. Bark found himself planting the seed as our friend Jack had. He watered the very mound every day and made sure to sing to the little soul every day and night, from dusk to dawn as often as he drank his tea. One day the seed turned into a sprout, a stem that sprouted so high it nearly met his four little knees. To which the sprout faced the sky, it’s glorious body reaching for the sunlight that Mr. Bark hid so carelessly. But what did he know? All he truly wanted was maybe some gold, and a goose or three, too!”

The male took a moment to lack a hand around his tea cup, sipping the peppermint tea slowly before settling it back onto it’s saucer. 

“So where was I? Oh yes, the poor little seed grew ever so quickly over the next few days until it sprouted to a glorious little…..daffodil. You see the little seed cherished the sun so much that it’s petals were a brilliant shade of gold that was almost as binding as the sun’s own rays. So she stood with her petals bloomed so bright, her leaves swaying in the gentle breeze like the most beautiful thing Mr. Bark saw. Mr Bark, who saw that she had bloomed, was disappointed that she was no beanstalk, yet he found himself mesmerised with greed for the little flower that he wanted to rip it from the ground. Though over time, he grew found of the little seed amidst his conversations as she began to grow, he was lacking in self control. He was, a treasure hunter after all. Could anyone blame him for what he was to do next?” 

“He was so obsessed, so mesmerised with it’s beauty that he was consumed by it’s strange design. Mr. Bark, you see, wrapped his paws around the lower part of her body and ripped her from the ground. Daffodil struggled with her roots to stay put, but the poor little flower could only struggle so much until her roots tore from her body and found herself in his clutches. Mr. Bark waved her in the air, satisfied that she became his. She had definitely become his…. and yet.” 

Dongwoo’s features saddened for a moment, a breath of air was needed to respond next as he surely had forgotten to breathe in between his story telling. “And so he looked to his paw, his furry brows raised on his small head as he stared at the wilting flower in his hand. Poor Daffodil, who’s strength was now beginning to fail her as her body grew weak. ‘What’s wrong?’ He asked, confused as he stared at the little flower. For Mr. Bark did not understand why she was dying  - he never truly understood the concept of dying as he was always alone. ‘I feel weak’ She said. ‘My leaves hurt and my petals feel sore. I don’t think I should have been pulled away, please do not touch me anymore.’ She whispered, her face now hidden from Mr. Bark. ‘What did I do? Are you pretending?’ Asked the old dog, as he continued to wave her in the air. Daffodil’s petals grew pale as her leaves began to brown. Her glow and colour had begun to fade, and so did Mr. Bark’s greed. ‘You pulled me from the ground, and now I grow weak.’ She replied and said no more after. Mr. Bark soon realised that he’d made a mistake. He quickly looked for some grass and dug a hole far too big for poor Daffodil. But he continued to try anyway. He placed Daffodil in this hole, buried her neck deep in the soil and made sure she would face the sun as she had always loved more than he. And so he watered her again, day after night. From dusk to dawn to make sure she was alright. He kept her company to make sure she would not grow lonely, he made sure to apologise to her sincerely for his wrong doing and greed. Then one day Daffodil stood, her leaves once more green and her petals were no longer browned but yellow as the sun. 

And so the two became friends until the very end. He continues to water her, every day and every night. From dusk to dawn they stayed together as good friends would.” 

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INFINITE ruining my bias list, 5 / ∞ Dongwoo being all serious 

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FIND YOUR ARCHETYPE

your archetype is the master.

(disclaimer: the master archetype is not a reflection of what a horrible person you are. ie: jyn erso and mary talbot are both extremely intelligent and driven people because they use their traits for good--although mary's character can be quite ambiguous in the earlier seasons)

traits: determined, obsessive, powerful, charismatic, confident, rash, challenging

the master is most commonly used to symbolize the antagonist, or the upper hand. while they aren't inherently the bad guys, their determination and ability to plan ahead can be twisted into something akin to evil. while that is a strong possibility in literature, their charisma and confidence can be utilized to create a strong idea and even an idea for the good side. many masters were the catalysts of revolutions, sparking hope and motivation. masters are extremely rash in their decisions, no matter how meticulous their planning may be. they tend to follow their instincts, and it's a good thing that they're so quick on their feet, otherwise, many of the challenges they face might have become uglier than expected.

fictional characters that are masters: tom riddle, jyn erso, thetis, mary talbot, irene adler, moriarty, tyrion lannister, cersei lannister, the joker

other personality types that go with this: alexander hamilton

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(*)

As you know the holiday’s keep one’s existence busier than a bee, I’ll pop in and out but won’t be able to do some heavy duty repling/meme(s) but will reblog them to work on them when I get back~ 

Happy holidays!! 

- Geppetto 

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fantastic beasts & where to find them starters.

❛ I think there’s much more to you than what meets the eye.❜ ❛ I wonder, what makes Him/Her so fond of you.❜ ❛ Anything edible in there?❜ ❛ News travels fast.❜ ❛ People behind this are not like you and me.❜ ❛ Don’t panic. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.❜ ❛ I want to be a wizard.❜ ❛ I don’t think I’m dreaming. I ain’t got the brains to make this up.❜ ❛ We’ve lived in the shadows for too long.❜ ❛ I refuse to bow down anymore.❜ ❛Are you a seeker, a seeker of truth?❜ ❛ Try very hard not to be predictable.❜ ❛ People change after a while, and they are no longer who you once knew.❜ ❛ My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice.❜  ❛ People are easiest to read when they’re hurting.❜ ❛ Tell me — has anyone ever believed you when you told them not to worry?❜ ❛ What brings you here?❜ ❛ She/He was a taker. You need a giver.❜ ❛ You are a miracle!❜  ❛ I was never supposed to know any of this. Why did you keep me around?❜ ❛ Because I like you and because you’re my friend.❜ ❛ But I made some cocoa.❜ ❛ Most guys think what you were thinking, the first time they see me.❜

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Sorry, kiddo. I couldn’t let anyone stop this, including us.

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If it's meant to be, then let it be so. I won't ask for anything more - to know that you remember at least something, no matter how small, is enough for me. Should you forget, I will remember for us both. Perhaps I'll appear when I finish assembling my thousand paper cranes. For your wish. It isn't safe for the time being. -- Madame E

“But you have never, truly ever have asked for anything more. I say, I say you must be a little silly, Madame E. For you have never asked for anything though if you did, it would never be a bore…” The male paused for a moment, his digits pressed against each other in that particular moment to contemplate her words in a calm manner. “I hope that… is soon.” Neglecting to comment on the later half of her statement, he began to ponder, contemplating her words though his heart failed to understand what she had ever truly meant.

Perhaps absence did make the heart go fonder, but what would happen to one who did not have a heart?

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@tsesarevna​

Is sleep a blessing or a curse? To some, it comes as the only way to escape reality. To others, it could mean wasted time. For her, sometimes, it feels as another mechanical thing she does because she has to. She has learned to deal with little sleep, no sleep, lots of sleep, too much sleep - all of it. She does get ‘tired’ but in a way that is different from humans. Her mind hardly ever fully shuts down but her body begins to grow heavy and difficult to control as smoothly. She knows her muscles must recover, must let the blood truly soak into them, so she sleeps. Or closes her eyes and puts her body to rest, rather.

What is sleep with blood dripping onto the floor of the guillotine ate up another chosen victim? An obligation. What is sleep with the sound of gunfire and yells and screams and death in the distance? A luxury. You can’t sleep without a gun under your pillow, without a knife at arm’s reach. These are lessons she carries as second nature. In her king-sized bed, one side remains empty of a body but R hides under the comfort of a pillow. It was a long day: meeting in the morning, training in the afternoon, assignment in the evening. Blood, a shower, a quick check-up on Woohyun and straight into bed when the clock announced one o’clock. As soon as she was tucked in, her body sunk into the bed and her systems began to restore themselves.

Except her mind. That wicked mind.

She isn’t one to dream much. Only an occasional dream here and there, mostly related to her mother or her childhood. She seems unable to dream of her new life, of herself in this perfect body. It’s been almost three-hundred years and not much has changed. She dreams of certain figures, certain characters but most times the dreams resemble a dark maze of flashes of images that keep alive in her who she is and what she is to do. No nightmares, no. Except when she goes to bed worried, when she bares a burden.

She’s been reading about Hungary, reading accounts of the War. It cannot leave her mind to the point of almost becoming an obsession. The Austro-Hungarian Empire could be the easiest target to point fingers at even if Germany payed the price. And as a Russian, she is bound to walk straight into the wolf’s mouth. It could be a double political and strategic alliance, a new beginning of sorts. An opportunity to leave the rancor behind. To the humans it wouldn’t exist but to vampires as old as she is, it means more than just marrying into a foreign family for the purpose of slowly rebuilding prestige and lost pieces of the puzzle. Yet, it worries her. It worries her, it scares her. Can she trust them? Will she ever be able to truly open up? She is never intimidated but she would hate being unable to be herself. She is tired of putting up an act, even if she does so more often than most would expect. Even now she is a put-up performance. Blonde hair that is not hers, dark red sleeping-gown, dark red nails.

Red is the color of blood, of hatred, of anger, of madness, of passion…

                                                                                        Of love.

Diurne sleeps next to her head in unconscious vigilance as that of her vampire companion but she is the one to acknowledge the intruder first. First by ears that flick into noises, then a head that abandons the comfort of folded paws. But Alexis is lost in a nightmare, a War nightmare. Her breathing is shallow, shaky, as if she were running away from something. Then comes a flinch, a hand that reacts out of force of habit but also in response to Diurne’s loud hissing against her ear. It doesn’t take long for the gun to be out of its hiding place to be pointing at the intruder in the window. Only one other person would do such a thing but she knows her sister to be more decent at choosing her visit hours.

Diurne bares teeth and arches her back as her owner tries to pull herself together, but silver irises are fully stained an angry red with fangs peeking out from under an upper lip. She thinks she’s staring at Death right in the face. She always assumed it would be like this. Such a person, such a mirrored image of something she ached and yearned to have but never had in the first place. Pure confabulations. She doesn’t put the gun down but her eyebrows furrow in confusion when she notices what he’s eating. Another moment and she abandons her initial stance of being on her legs on the bed with her arms stretched out in his direction and the gun in her hand.

She idly checks the bullets and puts the safety lock back on before she reaches to stroke at her cat’s skin with her free hand. She isn’t looking at him though she knows he’s there as his scent invades the room. Why are their encounters always so violent? Finally, she puts the gun back under the pillow and plops tiredly onto her back on the bed.

“You scared me.”

She whispers after a moment of silence she takes to collect herself, hesitant of hearing her own voice. What does it sound like? What emotions does it convey? Suddenly she remembers the ring that is in his possession and she wonders whether it is the appropriate time to retrieve it or let it be lost in the hands of the one she has loved most.

Features that curved upwards in what would be deemed as slight amusement, though it was never truly felt for his ebony hues failed to glisten. Blood never laughed, he was never really content with feelings -- nuisances that were deemed unnecessary but came with the body that was just as disposable. Yet in a way it was simply human for the fable. So completely amusing for the walking - now sitting -- contradiction. 

Though idle movements stirred his own consciousness; his shoulders arching as a cat in preparation for the aftermath. Curious yet far to suspecting of the inevitable of what was to come. She would move as she always did, never settled within her quarters like a restless dog. 

His head turned in her direction, those eyes now peering down the length of the barrel and to the woman before him. The clicking following the stream of thoughts that rung in response to her words -- such thoughts that were mad  as they should be. 

“Doubtfully.”

The chocolate was raised to his lips, biting onto the end with a soft crunch. Jaws that now moved slowly as he began to chew the tasteless creation upon his tongue as he feigned interest in eating something that was unnecessary for his own body. 

“I never knew you were the type to leave a window open at night...” 

Words that slipped idly with a single swallow of his treat. He was quiet, selective as he played with the few rings upon his fingers before picking up the package off the windowsill. “You want one?” Brow was arched slightly in a question that was rather unnecessary as perhaps she would assume that the cheap chocolate was nothing more than a coax to bring her closer. 

Though it was not. He forced himself not to follow his animal instinct to pull her close; instead he chose to stay as far as he could. “They’re not very good but they keep the mouth busy.”