[mellifluous]

_____________ ☠ _____________

wip.
Globophobia. Fear of balloons popping.
Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia. Fear of long words. Dyslexia maybe?
HIMSELF
HE IN DA MAFIA

█ ~ #hexcode
█ ~ #8E929E
█ ~ #575A6D
█ ~ #3E3B46
█ ~ #B8AFB0
█ ~ #E8E9EB
█ ~ #C6C9D2
█ ~ #AFB2C3

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username ; Mellifluous

full name ; Teivel Phobus Than

gender ; Male

[Birdy]

huge markkk

[chunkypeanutbutter]

username ; chunkypeanutbutter name ; lamille (la-miyel) gender ; female

[Calibri]

username: Calibri
kalon name: Maeve Cassidy (meaning: "intoxicating", "curly haired")
gender: Female
prompt:


You loved him, didn’t you, Maeve?

“You are the definition of perfection”, he’d say. He was so kind – soft-spoken, generous, caring. Being with him was bliss. He made you feel so special, so loved. You’d tell all your friends about him, how happy he made you – they saw it in the spring in your step, the twinkle in your eye when you spoke about him. You were so proud of him; you never imagined you’d be so lucky to find someone as lovely as he was. God, how had you gotten so lucky that you’d met him and fallen for him? He could’ve done so much better than you – but he said he didn’t want to. He wanted you. You two lovebirds were so close. You liked that nickname, didn’t you? “Lovebirds”. You liked it when your friends teased you like that with stupid names. That’s what you were, though - nothing could tear you two apart. You’d talk every day whenever you had the chance, from the moment you woke up until the moment you passed out because you were so tired. Those late nights spent with him, listening to your favourite songs, talking about everything and nothing and everything in-between. Do you remember those, Maeve? Of course you do – you can never forget them, no matter how hard you try.

“You are the definition of perfection”, he'd say. Those damned words will forever ring in your ears. Thinking about them still brings you to tears. He grew distant - cold, even. You were terrified you had done something wrong, had scared him off, had messed things up and oh God you ruined everything didn’t you. Whenever you confronted him, he’d brush you off or grow annoyed with you for worrying so much. The tone of his voice changed and so did his affection towards you. He never called you pet names or said the same sweet things to you anymore. It might not have sounded like much, but it meant a lot to you. It felt like the man you fell for was slowly slipping through your fingers like sand – and there was nothing you could do to stop it. To stop him from growing bored of you, to stop him from leaving. Do you remember, Maeve? Those sleepless nights you had over him, bawling your eyes out with nothing to do to stop it? That hopelessness, desperation, fear that he’d leave you? You remember. I know you do, Maeve. It hurts, doesn’t it? I know it does. You’re choking back your tears, I know you are. You were scared to tell anyone and put the man you loved so much in a bad light. You didn’t want to admit you were wrong about him, the humiliation was too much. You just smiled – told your friends that everything was okay between the two of you. You’d laugh, say something vague about him – and change the topic when you felt your eyes pricking with tears. Your favourite songs brought nothing but sadness anymore. Everything you saw – everything you heard – it reminded you of him.

“You are the definition of perfection”. He lied. How could he lie to you like that, Maeve? After everything you had gone through together, he got with another girl behind your back. You were upset – but mostly humiliated that you thought you were something. Something special. That’s not who you are, Maeve. You know that better than anyone. You are a pathetic little girl destined for eternal loneliness. Nobody wants you, Maeve. Love just isn’t for everybody. He was way too good for you and you knew that. The most pathetic thing is you knew from the start that this would hurt, yet you persisted like the foolish girl that you are. You knew he’d hurt you, yet you kept going. He lied to you. You deserved it. You should never think that you are of any significance or that you matter. He lied to you with good reason, Maeve. And the most pathetic thing of them all is that after everything he has done to you – all those sleepless nights, all those tears you shed for him – you still miss him. How can you miss a man as cruel as him, Maeve? He used you. He abandoned you. He broke you. He broke you, yet you desperately scramble to pick up the pieces and crawl back to him. You know he’ll just walk all over you again. You pathetic girl. So desperate to give love and to please everyone else that you forget you deserve to be loved yourself. But none of that matters, does it? He was your world, your everything. He left you - and you still find a way to blame yourself for his actions. You are weak, Maeve. And despite everything – despite those horrible moments of indescribable loneliness where you missed him so much your entire body ached – you’d do it all again for him. But let’s face it, shall we, Maeve? It was never about him, was it? You didn’t fall for him, you fell for the idea of him. The idea that you’d have someone to love you. Despite everything, you begged for him to stay. Despite everything, you loved him. You loved him because you thought things would be different this time. You loved him because you were scared you’d be alone without him.

And he left.

(900/900)

[Kyo]

Mark

[kanadensis]

thicc mark

[f1owercrown]

[ f1owercrown ] - Francine - female - actress - 899/900

No reflective surfaces, please.

It was printed on her terms and agreement.

"What do you mean..."

Her head lowered, gray eyes peering from beneath black shades. "No metallic, shiny surfaces. Get me a white trailer with colored walls."

"But what does it matt--"

"It's in fine print," Her words echoed. "Either you agree to it, or you don't. Do you need to know the reason why? If you want to work with me, you have to respect my preferences. And I prefer not to have any reflective surfaces."

With hesitance, the man affixed his signature on the letter.

"I pray it will be nice working with you." The woman stood abruptly, her 3-inch heels clicking on the marble floor. On her way out, she paused for a moment to turn back. "If word goes out, good luck finding a better artist."

To put it briefly, Francine was an actress. She had with her a sense of strength and assertiveness that she carried throughout her acting career, yet she constructed barriers around herself that people thought it was her own character to be mysterious yet so powerful and respectful.

--

Arriving at her room after a long day, Francine breathed deeply. She removed her shades and threw them on her side table before walking towards the bathroom to wash her face. Occasionally, one had a mirror set up in above the sink to see their reflection after a good face wash, but not Francine.

She had no mirrors set up anywhere.

In all honestly, Francine was terrified of her own reflection. The last time Francine took a good look at herself was before she moved into her apartment, before she turned into a daughter of Hollywood, before she left her measly life with her twelve other cousins in the countryside. At that time she hated her image, both physically and emotionally, that she decided not to look at her own reflection out of disgust. First it was just a days of taking off the mirrors, but these days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and soon enough she stopped looking at the mirror completely to rewire her brain into thinking that she could live without ever knowing how she looked anymore.

It's been years since.

How much did she hate herself to make her completely refuse to look at herself?

The extent of her refusal stretched so far that she forgot why she was doing it in the first place. Why this long of a refusal happened, she didn't know, but all she could say was that she was afraid of the day she'd look at herself again.

--

In an up-coming movie, Francine portrayed as a queen named Aibell, who presided over a kingdom as a banshee while being a guardian-spirit. Aibell was warm yet powerful, quick on her feet yet stubborn. Ruling over a palace while being a guardian-spirit was no easy task for her, and in one of the scenes she reaches her breaking point, much to the dismay of her servants.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Francine, as Aibell, whispered by the candlelight.

"Madam," One of the servants exclaimed. "You can't keep doing this. Just look at yourself!"

Francine had been reading from the script, where her next action was, "AIBELL looks to her front". She lifted her head from slumping on the dresser chair to look ahead, and right in front of her was a mirror covered with translucent plastic.

Francine screamed, pushing her body away from the dresser in sheer horror.

The studio bells rang for a cut, and her manager ran to her for comfort. "It's alright, Francine. They attached a plastic to the mirror so you wouldn't see your reflection."

"This wasn't in the script," Francine said, hands trembling.

"They thought adding in that detail would give more flavor to the scene," Her manager sighed, "the translucent plastic is so the editors could at least see your blurry reflection as a guide for them when they edit in your real reflection. It's just a placeholder, sweetheart. It's alright. It's not your real reflection."

It's not your real reflection.

Francine headed back to the set-up to gaze at the mirror once more, gritting her teeth out of fear. At first she was hesitant, but her trembling legs moved so she could face the mirror.

And there she was, her image blurred by the plastic that covered it.

Maybe she'd been afraid because, without being conscious of reality, she could be whatever she thought she was. Beautiful, powerful, and mysterious -- an ideal face for herself.

Her reality was a blur.

She walked over to the dresser and slumped down once again, whispering, "Let's take another shot." She waited for others to position before following up with, "Please remove the plastic cover off the mirror."

Everyone on set asked the same question.

"What?"

"I said remove it," Francine said, her voice cracking as she spoke. "Remove it."

With worried exchanges, two crew members peeled off the plastic from the mirror.

The director waved his megaphone. "...aaaand action!"

The servant by her side exclaimed his lines. "You can't keep doing this," he said in a soft tone. "Just look at yourself!"

The dialogue was scripted, but it seemed as if the words resonated in her far more than expected. Francine lifted her head, cold, gray eyes meeting herself for the first time in years.

AIBELL cries.

[cyborgishly]

phat mark

[Cinnamon Heart]

username:
kalon name:
gender:
prompt: (answer through writing or artwork; word limit of 900 / limit of 7 comic panels)

[OrangeSocks]

username: OrangeSocks
kalon name: Elvira
gender: Female
prompt: (answer through writing or artwork; word limit of 900 / limit of 7 comic panels)