˖ ྀྀ ･ 𓂃 𝒽𝘂͟𝘁͟𝘁͟𝗲𝗿.
@melancholyichor
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⩨ ៸៸ ⠀⠀IRREGULAR ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀. . ⠀ ⠀⠀ https://t.co/maLbRI4pE5 ⠀ ⋯ ⠀ཾ༵ ♱ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀
* ⠀༷⠀࿐ ₁₈₃₈.
Joined February 2026
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝗪𝗘’𝗥𝗘 ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ UNMADE.⠀ ཾ༵･ ݁ᛪ༙ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
⠀⠀COME 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ˎˊ˗ 𝗠𝗬 𓉸 ⠀* ࿐ ⋮ 𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂．
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/ he has a wife ﹠ an ancient entity with a cat ﹠ 400 rats.
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/ thomas struggling to find balance between being a doting husband who properly accommodates his wife’s needs vs falling short every single time because he too, has his own repressed urges that primarily involve being enraptured.
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⠀ 𓏲⠀ ࣪ ²⁰²⁶ʾ ⠀ꜝ🪦🗝 ⠀┈ ݁⠀ 𝓾nder ⠀ 𝗰onstruction.⠀ꜝ🕰 ཉ⠀.⠀ׅ𖤠 ⠀. #horrorrp 𝐋ᵒᵛᵉ̲ ﹐୨♡୧⠀ ، ⠀ ݁ ⠀ 𝓙𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄 ⠀…⠀horror ⠀ oc 𝄒⠀ 𝐱𝐨.⠀݁ ⠀𓂅 ⠀...⠀◟⠀ 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓇͟𝑒𝓂𝑒 ⠀.. ⠀ ♰ �� ⠀ ⠀
She wears her darkness like silk against bare skin.
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i’m begging you to keep on haunting me.
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/ nosferatu / gothic verses, please come back to me. 💧
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/ “kiss me and I’ll feel the sickness less and less.” oh, thomellen, you are so loved by me.
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• two souls seemingly clinging to favored inhabitants of soil ﹠ what once was.
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• a single ribboned tress of hair. mouth parted to speak to whatever nearest phantasm would listen before somber optics caught the ends of ashen waves flicking towards the heavens above. perhaps this cemetery stranger 𝙬𝙖𝙨 said phantom. after all, they were the only •
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• all, the grief remains everlasting. sanguine memories metastasize to the brain ( the way they always do whenever he’s faced with the loss of fallen mourning dove ). a hand, barely comforted inside wool pocket begins to caress sterling locket that held all that was left —— •
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• beloved’s eternal landmark. slick stone ﹠ a name chiseled as a reminder of grotesque permanence prove that even as time lurches further into the past, the mortal heart can become no more than a festering wound. valves will collapse, a heavy pang will resound. despite it •
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• stark contrast to bleak skies devoid of golden-hued sunlight. age-old rot resided beneath scintillating dust ╱ 𝘩𝘦𝘳 tomb in particular carrying an aromatic twinge of fresh 𝓁ilac. alas, there were no lilacs, nor roses —— instead, dyed immortelles lined the trim of •
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betwixt the powdery spasms of ice that descended ‘pon earth’s frozen terrain, the surface of hollow cheeks 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙜 from harsh winter winds staking claim o’er ruddy complexion. here, in the gated land of the 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗, his heightened physique held a •
⠀⠀ There is no comfort in the cold . Among the stone faces of carved angels nothing but emptiness and sorrow can be felt . Glistening in the evening's descending sun the gentle fall of snow provided the graves a stark white — ⠀⠀
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