sapienticrem-blog

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              penned by justine, inspired from theories

—— DOUBT COMES IN and kills the lights. Doubt comes in and chills the air. Doubt comes in and all falls silent. It’s as though you aren’t there. Where are you? Where are you now ? Hold on tight, it won’t be long, ‘cause the darkest hour of the darkest night comes right before the dawn.

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Hey I need your help ! Please VOTE HERE. I'm also taking other muses recomendation by asks ( anon or not ) if anyone wants to see me play a muse in particular or is searching for some character to interact with ??? idk but HEK here I go again.

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condemned. it’s still in the works, but please like or reblog this post if you’d be interested in participating in a hadestown group verse !

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DARK/VIOLENT STARTERS

Send me a 💀 and I’ll generate a number, 1 - 111, for what my muse will say to yours. Note that some content below the cut may be triggering.

Continua a leggere

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romanticize eternal damnation

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Happy New Year guys !!! Just letting you know that I won't be here or not entirely here for the next week because of the holidays and some personal problems. I hope I'll see you all soon guys ! Take care ♥

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WALKING WITHIN THE GARDENS OF DEATH, he wanders away : nothing can chain him to his final resting place. he's blessed with the FREEDOM of those who no more shall live, immortality, and the graces in which he seems to find himself - respected by god, ignored by the devil - he bent the rules in some strange ways. In the Purgatory, he finds bliss, away from the cry of the damned, between heaven and hell. But silence and solitude always acompany him, looming over him like birds of doom : ALONE HE GOES, lucky in his sanctity, condemn by his worth. Not even an angel would look down on him an smile : his sentence is forever, slef-inflicted : it is the absence that he represents, a soul that shall never be remarked but by those that do no yet share his fate. By a tree he sits, looking around him with a superficial curiosity ( it has died long ago ). Eyes of pale blue are set once more on the scenery, a pastoral painting he could retrace even blindfolded. And yet, something shines on the horizon, a warm light that calls for him, strangely. It is with no real purpose than to see it that he walks to this blinding spot of white and yellow, hidding himself behind the hollow corpses of trees. And as his eyes adjust to the light of such a bizarre yet beautiful vision, it is no less than a saint he thinks this soul to be. With flames of auburn framing her delicate face, she seems as FIERCE and cruel as Gabriel, but soft and kind as God wants his child to be. Was she ever human ? —— Has the Apocalypse day come ? Heaven, hell and Purgatory here seem reunited. Yet, and though fear lingers at your sight, there is only peace that I feel with certainity. Who are you ? “                                                                                           X | @perignotus

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desperationiis a réagi à votre billet “��”

w irt stop being a c reep

Wirt, ur fellow poet friend is worried abt u

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—— Have no fear, he is with god now. “ A peculair SORROW marks his voice, a burden he shares with her.                                                                                                      X | @ncright

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Small relationship tag dump for those who liked my previous post !

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—— You have such strange eyes. Beautiful ones, but strange. “ He tries to read her like an open book, but all the pages are WHITE. —— What is it you're thinking ? “                                                                                                      X | @doesntlie

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" 🙆 " ( reaches across the realms just to touch his hair )

Play with dem golden locks | a c c e p t i n g

SHE IS THE ABSENCE, the wind that howls and breaks the silence just to remind you how sweet the birds' song was. Everywhere he goes, she is not, living a world apart from his - high up, there, she sits close to the Lord. Pyramus and Thisbe, lovers locked away one from another, the sweet salute of death cannot even bring them together. On his heart, tragedies write themselves to the ink of his blood, stemming from the WOUND so deep his soul bears. And so, he wanders, haunting the rivers of the Styx, looking for her reflexion upon those dark waters. How unfair it is, this craving !Dismal was this day, and long those hours spent waiting. But the SWEET CARESS of slender fingers running in his hair kills the monotony of this life : as he turns around, A SMILE BLOOMS ON HIS LIPS.

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We are nothing but memories now.

Six word story // Grazia Curcuru (via hcathledger)

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🙆

Play with dem golden locks | a c c e p t i n g

NIGHT COMES, a silent ennemy that slithers as snakes so elegantly do. It falls upon your neck like a GUILLOTINE BLADE and in the blink of an eye, it is already too late : he is lost in those woods, lost on a path he thought he knew. He looks around, but nothing familiar catch his eyes - but what is there to see in the darkness of such a place ? A BLIND guide he is, walking around with hesitation, as an infant scared to fall. But fingers reach him in the black of this night, winded in his hair. Freezing like a statue of ice, he feels upon his shoulder the light of two YELLOW EYES. His blood runs cold, fear poisonning his thoughts : THE BEAST IS HERE.

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🙆-shicldfought idk man

Play with dem golden locks | a c c e p t i n g

An afternoon spent under the care of the sun, LIGHT'S WARMTH COVER THEM in a gentle embrace : here they lay, away from the noise of the crowd. Antic words attached like pearls to the string of her voice decorate the silence, a lesson he will never understand. Yet the BEAUTY of her prose still charms him, finding the appeal of mystery in tales he will never understand. Truth be told, he pays more attention to those lips articulating every sound that comes like a song to his hears, red rubby tentation that he will SADLY never let himself succumb to.Nevertheless, he finds courage in a curious act : resting his head upon her lap, his hand reaches for hers, guiding it toward a jungle of golden locks. A spoiled child he looks like, and yet, she complies ! The soft edges of a smile brings light to his feautures - for once, he WINS this game he so hesitantly tried to play.