✨ on the dark sea / the road of silver continues to the stars / this is a message brought by the moon.
🌙 s𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.
1. What does your muse smell like?
virote has a lovely collection of perfume and body mists that he really enjoys. some of them are a little on the typical, high-end of the spectrum like various perfumes from the jasmine + woodsy alien by mugler. then, you have your demeter fragrance oddball scents like petrichor, that smells exactly like the ozone / petrichor of a fallen rain on the dirt. warm, earthy, and ozone. he smells like the weather. whenever you’re close to him, you smell a summer rainstorm. this is usually layered OVER something else! here are a few choice picks he likes to layer with it:
- CHLOE SEVIGNY’S LITTLE FLOWER BY REGIME DES FLEURS / black tea, bleeding heart, blackcurrant bud, peony, palo santo incense, pomelo, honeysuckle, and a precious ottoman rose absolute. described as romantic, dewy, and woody musk.
- AYAMORI’S HINOKI ONSEN / geranium, jasmine sambac, red mandarin, and vetiver. described as described as calming, mood elevating, soothing, and deep.
- MOLTON BROWN’S FIERY PINK PEPPER / pink pepper, ginger, tangerine, nutmeg, osmanthus, lily-of-the-valley, jasmine, labdanum, musk, patchouli, oakmoss, and cedar. very strong spicy fragrance. described as stirring, sultry, and smoldering.
BLACK ALCHEMY LAB’S FAIRY BITE / osmanthus, raw honey with lavender, chamomile, white peppermint, raspberry, honeysuckle, thyme, bergamot, and dracula orchid.
BLACK ALCHEMY LAB’S ICE / eucalyptus blossom, crystalline musk, white ginger, mint, and elemi. oddly described as a ruthless, cold metal, icicle scent.
if you stand too close to him and catch a whiff, you fall in love so uve been warned.
2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?
considering his skincare routine is some of the most hardcore shit in the name of beauty, his hands are just… pillow soft, smooth. he’s always putting on lotion, aloe vera, shea butter. especially shea butter. he finds that shea butter bring out the maximum softness™ in his hands. every friday night he’ll use hand masks for about 20 minutes and those are usually on the lower end of cost since hand masks aren’t super important to his skincare routine. theyre just extra. his favorites are the cheapo epielle hand masks from the dollar store with coconut oil, milk extract, hyaluronic acid. aaaand the tonymoly i’m lovely peach hand masks <: )
3. What does your muse usually eat in a day?
in the morning, he’s usually making a smoothie and having some oatmeal to go with it. throw in a little fruit, maybe even some coffee if he feels like he might not make it through the day. for lunch, he usually opts for something quick, but fresh and satisfying like from a food truck since he’s probably gonna be on the run the moment he’s done. like tacos or kimbap! ESPECIALLY kimbap, he loves that shit. kimbap, some squid chips, and a seltzer water? yeah, babey.
for dinner, it really depends. he might cook something for himself! like curry and laab moo with some roti on the side, tom yum, xiaolongbao with cold noodles, hot pot, maybe some fried tofu with a little sauce over it with some rice maybe a couple of eggs on top of it all. if he orders something it ‘s usually cuban food, ‘cause his ass loves ropa vieja. sometimes indian or greek. japanese. if it’s japanese, he’s goin’ out for okonomiyaki.
as for snacking, he’s usually eating some sort of dried fruit, pistachios, super dark chocolate like 85% dark super bitter and not sweet at all, hummus over super crunchy bread… or some awful shit from taco bell and burger king if he’s having a bad day. he has a lot of bad days so find him at ya local taco bell, ordering a beefy five layer with a baja blast. anyway he loves trying new foods so if a restaurant opens up, he’s there.
4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?
it’s fair! you could even call it pretty. limited range, but pretty. he’s not gonna kill you with it until he tries to karaoke mariah carey. then no one’s surviving those crackly, shrill high notes… awful…….. he will never sing ‘ butterfly ’ without nearly dying…. everyone in the room passes away.
5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?
HIS WHOLE LIFE IS A BAD HABIT.
6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?
oh babey… i can’t even describe… but he dresses better than anyone u’ve ever met… don’t invite him to ur birthday, he’s gonna show up in vintage versace, on a white horse, while 70s underground disco plays. body chains everywhere. he’s so eclectic and fashionable and experimental. runway looks just to go to the store. of course for work he’ll just wear a suit or something casual lol. but outside of work????? u could see him in a $5000 la perla pajama set, eden boots, faux fur coat, and a pearl necklace just to get chips from the gas station. he’s ur glam babygirl…. he’s your goth boyfriend…
7. Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so?
affectionate enough so please don’t touch him a lot. lkjgfdlsgjkl. and idk, he has a hot-cold kind of personality, so sometimes he won’t even look at you. won’t touch you, won’t do anything. if he’s touching a friend, it’s usually when it’s a very intimate moment. like a serious talk or something. he’s not one to grab them up into hugs and shit. he’s not a cuddlebug. but in somber, solemn moments or moments where he wants to make a point, he may touch a hand very briefly. like a little flash of love and absolute trust and vulnerability.
even in his romantic relationships he’ll most likely sit on the waaay opposite end of the couch from his boyfriend if theyre talking. it’s really just best to express in some way that you want to touch him before actually doing it. like you don’t have to outright ask for permission but you need to be really careful about it and indicate something so you don’t weird him the fuck out.
he’s just never been a touchy person. being a domestic abuse survivor didn’t help.
with that said if there’s enough trust gained, he doesn’t mind! but that’s an upward climb that people rarely ever power through. vi’s affection is usually expressed through doing favors and stuff like that anyway.
vi has punched people in the face more than he’s hugged people on his blog and that’s just where he’s at as a person………..
8. What position does your muse sleep in?
vi’s the type to fall asleep wherever he falls so he could be twisted like a pretzel or laid out like a plank. you might even find him face down on his kitchen floor, making friends with the linoleum floors of his kitchen!! on his side, in the bathroom. bent up like a tangled slinky somewhere in his office. it’s like finding a dead body every time you find him sleeping except he’s alive and probably dreaming about kazuki kitamura in a wet t-shirt contest.
9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?
no and that’s exactly why he’s great at trespassing. u befriend him and ur asking for break-ins. u won’t even know he’s in ur kitchen, eating your french toast like some sort of shitty little moon raccoon. also he can phase thru ur walls? you are not catching him.
✨ TAGGED BY: i see things.. i wanna do it.
✨ TAGGING: @technodromes @bewitchingbaker @amoriscustos @spxnglr @sinbyeol @knightshonour @baekjeongu @advnterccs @outsideiin @inseparableduo @novaless @oldtimies @shctupmeg + tag ur it!!!
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I wanted a little undiagnosed TLE Steve Harrington. So I wrote some. He does not have healthy thoughts here.
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"We need to grab the -- the -- its the -- we need to -- its -- that thing that we -- its -- fucking--" Steve stopped to swallow, breathe, shift his jaw and his tongue, scrunch his mouth up, trying to find the magic button that would give him the word he was looking for. It was right there. It was right there. He started talking to Max and Lucas, trying to get some shade set up for the group as they lazed about by the quarry. They were helping as much as any of them ever helped. Steve just needed to remember the word.
For the thing. The thing that he'd grabbed. It was the thing that he got to go with the rope to make the other thing - fuck what was the name of the other thing?
Dropping his head back with a sigh, he closed his eyes, and dropped into mom-pose. It was a helpful refuge when he needed a second.
'You don't get to complain we aren't helping if you don't actually tell us what you want us to do, man."
If they thought he was being bitchy, they didn't notice.
It was the thing. He knew what it was. A bag of them. He bought them a few days ago so they could set up the shade thing. The - uh - the fabric-shade-making-overhead-canopy-hanging-fabric -- The tent! Tent. They were the things that went with the tent. With the rope for the tent. To make it stay in place. The things that went in the ground. He had the mallet with him specifically because of the things. The things for the tent.
He just had to remember what the fuck they were called.
Not because of the kids. He could point. They'd grab them.
He could tell them to grab the orange things, and they'd do it.
He could tell them to grab the bag of things that made the tent stay on the ground, and they'd know what he meant.
That wasn't the point.
He knew the word, he knew he knew the word. But when he reached for it to speak, his hand slipped through air where the word should have been. Like pushing up his glasses when he wasn't wearing them. Like a phone call waiting to connect. Like missing the next step with his foot.
Everyone thought he was an idiot, and he knew, okay, he knew he'd never be as smart as the kids. He knew he was the stupidest person around most days, but he didn't need the reminder. He didn't need to be brilliant, but it had been a whole week of this, constantly this, and it was making him crazy.
There wasn't even a migraine to blame. He knew what to do about those. He thought one was starting, but it never went past nausea and faintness that went in an out for three days. This was just his brain reminding him that he was an idiot. Too stupid to remember the name of a thing he bought a few days ago. Too stupid to remember his own address on the mail order. Too stupid to remember that he already had two huge jugs of laundry soap in the basement when he brought home a third. Too stupid to remember the name of the game the kids played with Eddie.
That one used to be a joke. He made up ridiculous versions. It wasn't a joke this week. He couldn't remember what it was called as he drove over to pick them up, and was saved by the jokes that came before. He wracked his brain the whole time, and couldn't un-abbreviate D&D.
All week long like this, and nothing to blame it on but himself.
One slow exhale, and he resigned himself to it. He couldn't stall longer.
"Lucas, grab the orange sticks in the bag by the cooler. And the mallet."
Max rolled her eyes. "You could have said."
"I did say, thanks."
"Yeah, but before you got grumpy about it."
"This right?" Lucas asked, handing things over.
Anchors.
Right. Anchors. Stakes. Ground Pins. Tent Pegs. Spikes.
That was the fucking word. Several words. All of which abandoned him until he saw them, at which point they all unlocked at once.
"Yeah," Steve muttered. "Need to anchor the... yeah. Go. I'll finish this."
He got to work. It wasn't like he forgot how to do things, or how to use things. He just lost words. Normal people forgot a fancy vocab word or a crossword answer every now and then. Steve wasn't normal.
He was stupid, and it was getting harder to keep hidden just how true that was. He got his frustration out hammering them down, and kept his sunglasses on until his eyes stopped watering.
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