#solo para.

[uroborosymphony]

The rebirth.

september, wednesday 28th, 5:03am. Paris.​

ft. @darkepithymia

Folie à deux” - "shared madness," or "madness for two". Psychiatrists describe it as the presence of the same psychotic ideas in two persons closely associated with one another, under the schizophrenic spectrum.

What if we’re the sane ones, what if the world has lost its mind and we’ve been manipulated, lied to all along, and so we’re convinced that we’re the mad ones, when we’re not?

We’re running, and running and running in the streets of Paris. My hand in his, the sound of our steps hitting the wet tarmac in a symphony of euphoria. It has rained, droplets like pearls cascading down the leaves of the trees that watch us in silence. The gods have left us, the gods have abandonned us and their thrones are free to claim.

The street is empty, nothing is chasing us - would say any pedestrian walking by - but we know they’re after us, the ones who saw, the ones who saw what we just did and so we just keep on running.  I’m breathless, not from the race against shadows but from the laughing. Oh I can’t stop laughing as I’m possessed, possessed by this fatale fever that runs under my skin, fuels my veins, feeds my soul. He stops running in the middle of the road and he turns around, to seize me by the waist; to watch me laugh, to laugh with me. Our eyes meet, our souls are in a tango. Slow, and intense. He can see it, the inferno dancing inside my dilated pupils, the cursed edens in my irises as I smile to him. His large hand cups my jawline in a firm hold, his fingers adoring my skin while the blood on his phallanxis is now tinting my apple of my cheek, the pulp of my lip as the tip of my tongue lace with his thumb. 

We can be God, Gabriel.

You will be god Dahlia, I will be your Cerberus, your hell hound.

Kill for me, if you want me, to dit, kill for me.

Anybody who dares to cross our paths.

We dance, in a demonic watlz, a macabre pas de deux. My dress, crimson tainted by our little games is flying around my legs as he makes me spin. The lightness of my giggles echoing under the slumber of the moon, and he smiles like he always does to me, our demons making one, as their own shadow are brought to life, embracing the warmth in violence.

Let’s celebrate.

Where will your take me?

To a place where our myths, our stories, our past lives and the world awaiting for us when this is all over come to life.

I remember nine months ago, the two men I’ve almost left to die in the mansion in the south of france after I set it all on fire - two men who had nothing in mind but to disrespect me, two men who took the Dahlia for something she was not. Today, they have paid the price. No crime should be left unpunished. 

We’re the answer, Gabriel, my Gabriel.

I see it, in my dreams, the ones I have when i’m fully awake. I see a holy war we will march for, I see the purge of all evils we will make of this world. And finally, finally, when the persecutors are no more, it will be our time to ascend. It’s not just the revenge of the loss of my family I want, this will just be the first step to something bigger. I want it all purified, all the souls who have wronged me, in a way or another - I will purify you.

[notninani]

stupid idea ends in stupid doodles

Extra:

[estigmxs]

Las peores decisiones las tomamos estando tristes, pero las mejores, también.

El dolor siempre será necesario.

[lesbiancosmicowl]

Sueños de Libertad | Episodio 19

[latinotiktok]

GRINGOS DONT VOTE

[kasiobite03]

oh jaiden

[cassmonkeyphase]

A silly challenge from twitter I think

[idon-twannabeperceived]

Based exactas

(Descripción en texto alternativo)

[ansiedad-incertidumbre]

No me interesa ser tu prioridad, por que tus sueños y tu salud mental deben serlo; prefiero ser tu compañía favorita y tu lugar seguro en el mundo.

[uroborosymphony]

Monsters and humans.

september, sunday 18th, 2:31am. Seoul.​

ft. @darkepithymia

The ravens in my eyes have not stopped contemplating it. The majesty of it. 

In a box made of glass in my woodened bookshelf : a heart. It has been gifted to me, has captured the depths of my mind ever since. It almost feels like it’s speaking to me, whispering to me, calling for me in the night as I walk out of my rosy sheets of silk to find myself in the living room again, haunted. I could spend hours and hours admiring its chirurgically proceeded arteries, the wonders formol have done to the ventricles, how beautifully done was the virtrification process. The glassified heart has then painted in red, the veins in black and gifted to me.

Art.

Pure art.

An art of barbary, an act of madness, an act that tainted souls and minds and psyches... for me.  I smile to myself, giddy.

I knew Yongdae has helped Geonwoo. The trustworthy doctors in the underground were rare these days and these two do work hand in hand behind the Grim Reaper’s closed doors. They do have secrets nevertheless, sometimes locking themselves in the study the way they do, leaving me bored in the VIP salon of the club with only Mr Known to keep me company. I’m not truly mad at them, but I do like whining. If only I knew this time it was for them to serve me a soul on a plate, I would have been less difficult.

The lights are dimmed in my house, only my favorite Chopin’s waltz is playing as I lounge on my couch of velvet, the length of my hair cascading down my bare chest almost exposed by the robe that was slipping off my shoulder, the ebony of my hair betraying the porcelain of my skin.

“It’s magnificent.” Says the voice in my head.

It’s only her and I now. Many voices used to live within my mind, pulling on my brain from one side to another, ordering me to start fires or end my days. Years after years, they have morphed into one and only. My ally. The bridge to my subconsciousness. The one who thirsts and feeds on blood, the one who sings to the glory of vengence, the one who one day will consume me whole and let us ascend, let us be god.

“Wouldn’t a collection of hearts be even more magnificient? One by one, the core of our persecutors, caged, owned. By us.” I answer out loud, the lowness of my voice echoing in the immensity of the emptiness of my house.

“You finally realize the power we hold, don’t you. Embrace the rise, in no time we will be ready for our ascencion. That joke of a psychiatrist was just a pawn and had to go first. Hahahaha isn’t he more useful now? For us to contemplate like this in a box of cold glass. We will climb the ladder, taking off each piece of the game, bishops and knights, until finally, wet get the queen’s head.” 

"We have our own army now. Allies and knights. Blood oh blood will rain without us having to lift a finger until dommsday. It’s only for the final act that I will take my gloves off and do what I’ve came down this earth to do. It has begun, finally, it has. 

So.

Who’s next?”

[ritmos-eternos]

Espero qué este velo nocturno sea mi cómplice, que me ayude a llegar a tus sueños; espero poder entrar y ser parte, aunque sea por unas horas de tu mundo.

Papittafritta

[milanesa42]

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Idol Au inspired by @manawari ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 014 ✦ ┆・

╰┈➤ ❝ [ The Prince of Death; Monarch of Shadows] ¡! ❞

Idol!Sung Jinwoo in which his theme revolves around darkness ofc. But specifically it revolves around time and the bitter clutches of being alone on the bring of insanity.

His songs revolve around the idea of wandering in an infinite loop. Existential crisis and such. The pain of being being alone. The agony of a soul who yearns for the spotlight, who yearns for recognition, the crave for glory.

He sings songs of misery, of tears, of anguish and longing. His instrumental with dramatic violins and pianos. Luring you even more into the dark depths of the abyss that he embodies. He tugs at your soul with his deep voice. Lullabies that are full of sadness and complexities and such

Idol!Jinwoo in which his solo choreography is similar to an emotional ballet. Fluid movements as if he were drawing shadows in the air. Hypnotizing you with his movements that were ever so beautiful and graceful.

Though, he does take a change of phase sometimes. Love songs that are just fluffy and warm, dreamy instrumentals that goes along with his deep voice. It's as if he is coaxing you, cooing at you ever so lovingly. His love songs make you feel like dancing around in the rain in his hand. He makes you feel like a princess with how gentle and loving his voice becomes.

A lullaby so to speak, a lullaby that makes you feel like you are floating on clouds. A field of flowers on your bare feet, and there he is, guiding you in such a breath taking view. He wants you to feel his heart, he wants you to feel important, his love songs exist as his canvas of longing.

"Can you call out my name sweetly once more? Let me hear your voice, part your pretty lips and utter my name." His voice lowers into a teasing whisper, tickling your ears and most especially your heart. After all, our Jinwoo is such a charmer.

Will you give in though? Will you call out his name so dearly?

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[izzakry]

𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗈́𝗇 𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖾.

nunca pudo resistirse a la buena música. tal vez uno de sus principales placeres culpables, porque con banda en vivo... dios, ¿cómo no ceder al excelente ambiente del salón? canturrea canción que reconoce por la radio local, aunque los torpes pasos de individuos en la pista de baile provocan ascenso de labios. ' tsk, pisó su vestido como ocho veces en menos de dos minutos. ' comunica relativamente tranquilo, sabiendo que será escuchado por quien ha decidido unirse a él. ' ¿team no saber bailar o fallar en encontrar la pareja adecuada? '

[thiagodasilva]

Enzo en París, gracias a fashion week ✨

[todos-mis-motivoss]

Seré tu eterna enamorada y te aseguro que todas las noches te amaré