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👰 Would your muse ever get married?
( source: accepting. )
poppy and marriage sounds like a foreign concept lmao. she doesn’t think anyone would date her let alone marry her and tbh the thought of it makes her uncomfortable cause 1). she doesn’t think anyone would want to put up with her and 2). she’s not able to express her feelings much. but is there a possibility? if she feels strongly of the person then yes, she would.
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@pseudohorror
The office could do with some decoration. The monochrome theme of strictly gray was relatively dreary, so much that she could feel her own soul reflecting the shade. She thinks the tightly drawn shades would be a wonderful place for some potted plants, and they in turn would filter the stuffy air in the relatively small space. Lowering her legs in the too-large arm chair she was directed to sit on, she hobbles over and twists the blinds open to let the sun in, allowing herself a moment to bask in the exposed lights, golden and holy.
What she had expected that morning when they hefted her out of bed was death, not this odd sense of peace in this unknown room. She had screamed, kicked, and begged for a moment longer, just enough time to say goodbye to the people she loved, before she was shoved into a white van. There was no explanation as to where and why this was happening. One moment she was crying for her life, the next she is reveling in this momentary solitude she didn’t think she needed.
She senses his presence before a word could leave his mouth. She turns, gives him a once over before letting a frown settle on her face.
“You look my age or something. Are you an assistant? Can you tell me why I’m here?”
he hides by not hiding at all, possibly comes from his inability to remain perfectly incognito and a presence in the shadow: some permanent trace of who he is remains behind, a signature tucked away to be found after the fact, he's horribly assure of himself these days. but it's not at all undeserved cockiness, he has always been good at what he does and good at what he is. lies aren't really lies in this context, there's always a thread of truth. he doesn't like liars, doesn't consider himself to be one. he almost always gives out his real name, nothing flagging for there's other park chanyeols in this city ( 531 to be exact ) -- his face isn't remarkable, he tells them he's a defector; there's always pity, always something useful to latch onto as he shares woes he had never experienced. morally ambiguous intent tucked beneath an ear to ear grin.
it's only then, when familiarity allows for exploit, he attacks through security walls. if there's no glory, he has no interest, but pride had always been one of his unremetting sins. pride and vapid curiosity and some need he never had been able to identify has him here. with this boy, who has more to say on his painstakingly boring blog than he does in real life, taking and retaking pictures of his pet spiders. who spent two years talking to someone he shouldn't have, logs and logs of conversation he filtered too. "come on, let's take another one," he holds up his phone, shifting though instagram -- he glances at him, kyungsoo has long lashes, 164 individual hairs on his right eyelid, 167 on his left, "and try to smile this time, you look better when you smile,"
64 & 67
& send me some questions ! ↳ status: accepting.
64. last concert you went to ?
▍▍ ❝ i dunno. it was kind of a blur. my friend dragged me to it and i didn’t even know who it was or what was going on for most of the time i was there. it was wild. ❞
67. favorite singer ?
▍▍ ❝ i’m not entirely sure that i have a favorite. i’m a pretty big fan of melanie martinez. ❞
; @pseudohorror
long days sucked. not always, maybe, but most of the time they did. tao had been up since 4 in the morning that day and now it was what, 11 o’clock at night? he had a hard time even getting his key to open his front door. dance practice was the last thing he had done that day and he wanted nothing more than to take a shower, eat something and go to sleep. his muscles ached, his stomach was begging for food, and his body was covered in sweat. when he finally gets his door opened, he sighs lightly, eyes closed as he nearly slams the door shut behind him. he slips off his shoes and tosses his bag on the couch as he trudges towards his room. looking at his bed, tao realizes just how tired he is and thinks maybe he should sit for a minute. but instead of sitting, he face plants his bed with a muffled groan. he sits there for a good 5 minutes until he feels something small, fast and hairy scutter over his hand.
tao immediately jerks his head up to see what that unknown feeling was, but his first thought was some kind of bug. he hated bugs. but what he witnesses just mere inches from his face was not just a little bug. it was the biggest, grossest, scariest spider he had ever seen in his life. he completely forgets about his fatigue as a scream rips though his throat, loud enough to think he was being murdered. his limbs fling the sheets over the spider, and he’s trying to get away from it as fast as he could. he witnesses the spider do that thing it does when it’s scared, it’s limbs stretching out horrifyingly, and tao’s tripping over his own feet as he tries to escape. he’s sweating again, as he darts out to his living room, taking deep panicked breathes. he doesn’t know what to do because he’s never had to face such a big insect before. after pacing the room for a few minutes, he decides to try and throw his shoe at it--do something to injure it.
reaching for his dr. martens, he just barely lifts the shoe when another spider falls out of his shoe. that wasn’t there before. and it’s just as big as the last--if not bigger. the shoe goes flying and it hits the ceiling, a serious of loud screaming and frantic flailing occurring on his chase to the couch. the spider is on the wall now and is moving. this is possibly tao’s worst nightmare, and all he wanted to do was relax. though he’s standing on the couch in an effort to save himself, he knows he certainly not safe as long as the two spiders were lurking in his home. he feels like crying as he watches the spider slowly get closer and closer, as well as knowing the other one was out there somewhere when suddenly a soft knock sounds at his door. though it’s soft, it scares the daylights out of him, and he stares at the door for a while. both him and the spider stop moving until he makes a dart for the door, hoping it’s someone who can rescue him.
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"They're so insincere."
death of a bachelor | accepting
The young boy’s pale, ashen eyes stare in an impassive manner at the other. There was a faint moment of reminiscence as he set that nearly colourless gaze at the other, but of course– a spell had prevented him from remembering the other fully. Instead, a memory of the Ice King’s husky voice immediately resurfaced to the top of his head, and the Ice Prince’s thick, pink lips mumbled the very same words the King had told him;
“Nothing in this world is sincere."
He glanced over to the overly bright screen, the one that’s placed so highly, so that it could grab anyone’s attention in order to make everyone knew that there’s another person in the other part of the world, the one that wears a clean, crisp suit to the deep, slum areas of a troubled country, acting as if they care about those who live far below the poverty line. The prince’s stoic features remained unchanged; nonchalant to the scene unfolding before his eyes.
"Keep in mind that you are looking at the true embodiment of insincerity right now."
