caelum kim
still waters run deep
intro “I embrace the rain like no one else and I call for storms because I live for the moments when I get through to the other side with all my organs intact.
I change with the seasons and the seasons live in me, depending on the weather as if it's something to be trusted. I don't feel safe unless I'm far below or high above, near the ocean, or climbing the mountain. Where I can't be reached or seen by anyone or anything and not even myself, because it seems to me that these voices in my head get louder just to kill the noise from the outside, and so I need to go away from time to time.
You will never see me surrender, never see me cry, but you will often see me walk away. Turn around and just leave, without looking back."
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ- Charlotte Eriksson
rule i. please don’t expect me to carry the plot alone — i value real collaboration. rule ii. don’t poke me for replies unless it’s been over a week with no communication. rule iii. no godmodding or dragging my character into heavy ic drama without consent. rule iv. random starters are welcome as long as you’ve read these boundaries. rule v. i love brainstorming — be open to plotting through genuine convo.
rule vi. reply pace varies with length, muse, and life — i’ll always keep you posted. rule vii. i write in third person, semi to multi-para. i’ll match your tone + length. rule viii. discuss mature topics beforehand; fcs must be legal age + age-appropriate. rule ix. feel free to ask me to start, but heads up: my starters tend to be lengthy. rule x. be kind. we’re here to build something cool, not stress each other out.
❝ The soul knows no greater anguish than to take a breath that begins with love and ends with grief. But there are other anguishes, many others. They unfold as they will, and to dwell within them is to understand nothing. Except, perhaps, this. In love, grief is a promise.
| caelum kim | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| name | Caelum Adriaan Kim van Zuylen van Nijevelt | age/dob | 27, 20.03.98 |
| pronouns | he/him/his | occupation | ex-idol, artist |
| origin | bloemendaal, netherlands | ethnicity | dutch/korean |
| orientation | homosexual, demiromantic | preferences | versatile bottom |
quirks
✧ likes : Overcast skies, oil paints, the scent of rosemary, handwritten letters, old bookstores, sea glass, chamomile tea, classical piano, silence, long baths, woven textures
✧ dislikes : Flash photography, tabloid culture, insincerity, loud bars, cheap cologne, questions about his past, surveillance cameras, styrofoam, bright artificial lights, being touched without warning
✧ hobbies : Oil painting, beachcombing, restoring antique furniture, late-night walks, reading poetry collections, collecting vinyl records, quiet cooking experiments
✧ habits : Tends to hold his breath when deep in thought, curls his fingers under when anxious, often forgets to eat while painting, writes lyrics in the margins of books, smokes when he can’t sleep
✧ other :
ㅤㅤ• Speaks fluent Dutch, Korean, English, and conversational French, and German
ㅤㅤ• Occasionally uploads unreleased music under a pseudonym
ㅤㅤ• Keeps all his empty pill bottles in a box under the sink- he calls it his “graveyard”
ㅤㅤ• Has a subtle scar on his left wrist, rarely visible
ㅤㅤ• Smells like cedarwood, turpentine, and something faintly floral
ㅤㅤ• Used to abuse prescription drugs, now smokes Marijuana regularly
height : 181cm (5’11”)
build : slender, androgynous
eye color : dark brown
hair color : jet black
skin color : warm gold
piercings : general ears, belly
tattoos : none yet
scars : none major
mbti : infp, the mediator
alignment : true neutral
persona
Soft outside, hard in. Caelum exudes a kind of reserved beauty, the kind people mistake for shyness. Quiet, not because he's got nothing to say, but because he's spent years being watched, dissected, and misunderstood. He's thoughtful, often lost in thought or the rhythm of his brush. Silence is more true to him than conversation ever could be.He's not cynical or bitter, just tired. There is a delicateness to what he says and a tact to how he approaches people. While he does not open up too frequently, he is a listener, offering silent comfort in the form of endless stares, warm drinks, and a moment of silence shared. Despite his gentle exterior, Caelum has a sharp wit, dry at times, occasionally cutting, and most often kept for those capable of seeing beyond his sorrow. He doesn't easily trust, yet he aches for real connection more than he'll ever admit. He dreads vulnerability, not because he doesn't dare to feel, but because feeling has always arrived too much, too quickly, too forcefully. He doesn't trust other people enough to show them his heart, no matter how isolated he may be in life.He notices things: the shift in someone's tone of voice, the color of a wine glass as light catches it in the dawn, the kind of look that would convey more than words ever could. That sharpness, once his greatest limitation, is now the heart of his work. Caelum does not believe in redemption, but he believes in beauty. And between one work and the next, in the quiet, that is sufficient to get him through.
biography Born in the affluent Dutch town of Bloemendaal, Caelum grew up surrounded by wealth, legacy, and quiet scandal. His father came from a long-standing maritime trade and shipping business dynasty, his mother a former South Korean classical pianist and heiress to an old family fortune. Their affair, passionate but doomed, ended in heartbreak. His mother returned to South Korea when Caelum was just a child, and though she remained a distant figure, her presence haunted the halls of his father’s estate. Despite being the product of infidelity, Caelum was never mistreated. In fact, he was indulged to the point of detachment. He held a striking resemblance to his mother; delicate features, expressive eyes, her same artistic fire- he fully knew it was the only reason his father offered him affection at all. But Caelum always knew he was not truly a part of the family. He would never inherit the business. He would never belong.At age 16, Caelum left for Seoul. Under the guidance of his mother’s old contacts, he was scouted by an entertainment company for his unique looks and natural vocal tone. His soft-spoken elegance, European features, and Korean fluency made him an instant fascination. For a few years, he thrived. As part of a K-pop group, he gained recognition for his charisma and ethereal image. But the pressure to maintain perfection, please fans, hide his identity, and ignore his mental health began to suffocate him. Around the age of 20, Caelum quietly fell into substance use. At first as a coping mechanism, later as a crutch. By 22, after multiple incidents and missed schedules, his company terminated his contract. The scandal never went public, thanks to his family’s wealth, but he was blacklisted in the industry.He returned to the Netherlands, lost and untethered. His father had remarried by then. The house that once overlooked the sea now felt more like a museum than a home. He tried rehab- twice. Sobriety slipped through his fingers like water. Music felt too connected to the person he used to be, wrapped in layers of choreography, public scrutiny, and a mask he no longer recognized.It was during this silence, in the loneliest part of his withdrawal, that he found painting. Oil on canvas gave him something music no longer could: slowness, privacy, the freedom to make mistakes. He started with abstract shapes, then moved to memories; the glint of ocean light, the wind off the dunes, the feeling of watching clouds drift over Bloemendaal’s gray horizon. The sea, especially, became his obsession. Not just for its beauty, but for its contradictions: calm and violent, vast and close, impossible to hold.Eventually, he left for Wineport, a sleepy coastal town known for its vineyards and quiet comfort. With no need to work, he keeps to himself, living in a small but beautiful home by the sea. Oil painting became his new medium of survival- slow, tactile, imperfect. Occasionally, he’ll upload a song to streaming platforms under an anonymous alias, usually late at night and without promotion. Only devoted fans recognize the sound.In town, he's known as the quiet, beautiful artist with a melancholy air. Locals say he always smells faintly of turpentine and lavender. He rarely drinks anymore, but he's not quite sober either. There’s a softness to him now, something bruised but strangely comforting, like a painting left out in the rain.
| npcs | |
|---|---|
| ㅤbaron willem van zuylen van nijeveltㅤ | father |
| ㅤkim yunhyeㅤ | mother |
| ㅤwillem bastiaan van zuylen van nijeveltㅤ | elder brother |
| ㅤhugo matthijs van zuylen van nijeveltㅤ | younger brother |
| ㅤcelina margot van zuylen van nijeveltㅤ | younger sister |
| ㅤbaroness margriet van zuylen van nijeveltㅤ | step mother |
ghosts of glamour
✿ open — any gender — ex-fans, friends, idols :You knew him before. Or at least, you thought you did. Maybe you were a fan of his music, maybe you knew him when he still smiled on stage. Meeting again in Wineport, away from Seoul’s spotlight, you see what’s left of the boy who once shimmered.
The question is: do you want to know the man he is now?
the man in the rain
✿ open — any gender — neighbors :You live near Caelum’s cottage, and while you’ve never really spoken beyond the occasional nod or mail mishap, his art studio lights are always on when you come home late. One rainy day, you catch him outside, drenched, paint-stained, muttering to himself about the canvas being “too honest.”
He startles when you offer an umbrella. Something new begins.
grapefruit and rosemary
✿ open — any gender — emotional caretaking, slow trust :You were having a moment. A breakdown, a panic attack, a memory that hit too hard, right there on the sidewalk. And Caelum, the quiet artist who rarely speaks to anyone, didn’t walk away. He didn’t say much, either. Just offered you a drink, a seat, a moment. Somehow, that became two moments. Three. You start showing up on his porch. Not always to talk- sometimes just to breathe. He never pries, but he always notices. You’re not sure if you’re friends. But you know you feel safer around him than you have in a long time.
And he… hasn’t asked you to leave.
falling on ink-stained sheets is like flying
✿ taken by alessio leone — replied — location :they were childhood friends, lost to time and silence- until years later, they're reunited not through reunion, but ruin. what began as a one-night mistake becomes a pattern: sex too familiar to be meaningless, denial too fragile to hold. caelum relapses. alessio finds him on the floor. and suddenly it’s not about coincidence, but memory. not about lust, but survival.
now it's about whether he stays, and if caelum lets him.
