Kim ‘ Jinam ‘ Jiwoong | INX semi-au ↻ reblog for a starter ♡ like for a follow ❝ As the ground vanishes I wonder – will the sky be the next to fail me ? ❞
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Kim ‘ Jinam ‘ Jiwoong | INX semi-au ↻ reblog for a starter ♡ like for a follow ❝ As the ground vanishes I wonder – will the sky be the next to fail me ? ❞
Reblog this post if you rp on aim and are interested in starting up some new interactions for your muse.
Ache.
Yes, that certainly qualified as the darkness residing in permanence upon his heart, almost as if it were a bitter reminder of unspeakable horrors in which Namjoon would never in his existence be able to reiterate without visible discomfort, whether it fall beneath the label of either physical or mental. Physically, he was fine, and it disgusted him to extents in which he'd grown unable to voice in fear that it was nothing more than a dream-- his taste of luck was far from what he’d perceived to be his own.
Seconds, mere seconds he’d spent without a skeletal structure. To be in a state of paralysis, mirroring the unimaginable pain coursing through his system in response to the gruesome condition he’d been left with was alarming, more so a sharp take to the mind-- he yearned to learn more, and perhaps that was where his mistakes could be rooted, for as he did, he’d been left to repay wisdom deemed priceless. It was distadteful, how much it pulled at him-- he wanted to learn more. He needed more. There was no point in surviving if he couldn’t grasp The Truth post experience.
God, he was repulsive.
It’d taken years for the boy to move past his experience, and he hadn’t truly achieved said goal, constantly haunted by the sacrifice of his mother’s attempt to allow him a life he did not deserve. He shouldn’t have been here-- immortal by godlike standards, he was something one could consider a miracle. Distinctly broken with a soul calling towards an empty fear. Scratching, grasping, screaming-- screaming for granted passage. The fuel to his nightmares, the fear of attempting something as inhumane as he’d done once before; an explanation towards his demeanor. There were visible cracks in sanity, but that was something that could be placed beneath a smile, yes?
Exactly.
Tell me a secret anonymously.
@ALCHEMONSTER FOR REBLOGGING THIS
He ended up reacting before he could catch himself. As soon as Lincoln spotted the familiar face ( recognizable thanks to who else but his sibling ), he pulled in one corner of his lips and he gave an extremely unenthusiastic “Oh, it’s you”. The boy group was one of his sister’s favorites and it was always weird how she swooned over them, because of her age. The older guys with the literal pretty boy he could at least understand. “Sorry, it’s not you. Not your fault I mean.” The guy was bilingual right? Hopefully or it would seem like Lincoln was blabbing away in a foreign language looking incredibly rude. “It’s just that my sister blasts your music every day and I know some of the lyrics to your songs now without wanting to.”
Well, he was certainly a foreigner and for that much, the boy was sure of-- from a spill of sentences that couldn’t seem to bridge together upon pacing unless one were to repeat it to themselves, to the subtle thickness in the stranger’s accent that ticked off as another indication. Usually, recognition in his own country held itself solely in the reigns of those residing, but never quite an individual who, for one thing, was unaware of statement structure. For now, anyway.
Brows knitting together, the boy lifted a hand to pick absently at the surgical mask he’d shifted off-- momentarily, just to finish his ice cream-- desperately attempting to translate as the stranger spoke. He understood ( and was highly embarrassed as a spill of modesty filled into his system ) but Namjoon knew he could make it easier. "Do you..-- ah...” Pausing, he tried to remember exactly how his sentence should have been voiced. Take two;
"Do you speak English?” Goal.
WARNING: ACCOUNT CONTAINS MODERATE AMOUNTS OF KRP SATIRE. Also a legitimate roleplay account though, so. I want to actually write.
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“Hm, did you say something, hyung?” He raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t really listening since his own thoughts were preoccupying him. They were mostly having the same thoughts about cleaning up the place. Just doing it was a whole different story. He let out a soft sigh as he put on his shoes. “Do you think we should organize a cleaning day of the dorm, hyung?”
He laughed softly as he grabbed his own mask to hide half of his face with before going out the door. “You might lose all your teeth one day if you’re not careful, hyung!” His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled underneath his mask. He nudged the older man playfully when he saw the other’s pout. “Aaww hyung, you look like a little kid right now! I’ll buy you all the sweets you want~.”
“Like we did in L.A.?” He jested fondly, memories of being stuck on cleaning duty with Jimin as the other members went out shopping spilling back into a lighter frame of mind. Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he offered a nod, knowing fully well that a day of cleaning was exactly what they needed-- but to enforce such a thing? That might have to deem itself the most difficult.
"Okay but--” He started in protest, though he knew the younger was right. Still, he ate sweets in moderation thankfully, so there couldn’t be much for him to worry about-- especially since he was a master at dental hygiene. Of course that wasn’t something one usually took pride in, but still. “Ahh, I’m the hyung!” He mumbled softly, nose wrinkling as a hallmark feature of his. “I have to spoil my saengie too, don’t I?”
@djgamyeong
( S tarter from here ! )
There was warmth filling into his system, stemmed intricately from the depths of his core, residing simply due to the words lacing between the pair from the part of her lips. The corners of his lips shifted upwards, pulling into a smile as he listen, the tone alone allowing him to feel a comfort he’d lacked in for years in counting.
“Can I take you up on that hug any time soon?” He breathed, unable to help the softened dip to his vocals upon inquiry. “I–” Need it.
— Eyes searching his features, worrying she may have said something wrong as the silence hung rather heavily around them. The worry soon dissipates when she spots the smile on his face and her own lips tugged upwards to return the smile. At his inquiry, she nodded and opened her arms as to receive him in her embrace, he didn’t need to complete his request, she understood…
Hye Sung was awkward with physical contact but she knew when it was necessary to offer a pat on the back or a hug, “Of course,” she responded.
It’d been a while-- or rather, more than a while since his last genuine hug, and as attached as he’d grown to such a feat, it was hard for the boy to come across one too often. Pausing for a moment, his nose wrinkled almost boyishly as she stepped closer, arms moving to wrap around him; filling the space, he secured his own around her smaller frame, squeezing gently.
Asking for hugs wasn’t a normal occurrence, but it was a necessity if granted upon such lists, and he was beyond grateful. “Thank you,” Namjoon spoke beneath a breath, nosing into her hair upon instinct. “Ah-- you smell nice.”
@jinorous – ( reply to ∞ ! )
It shouldn’t have necessarily been considered a bad thing, as much as it was odd, his actions; if one were to steal a peek at the boy, they’d think nothing of him as his hands folded skillfully, setting a mountain of warm clothing into their respective piles folded neatly as if they were his own. –And there lay the issue: they weren’t his clothes. That, and whoever held ownership to this load was must have deemed it personal upon some level; “I mean, it’s not like I’m committing a crime.” Sure felt like it, though.
Silvery irises dipped against a proud gaze as Namjoon allowed himself a step back, satisfied with his work– the individual was a boy, thank goodness, as indicated by the pairs of underwear reserved solely for those beneath the term. Not that ladies couldn’t sport male underwear, but why do that when panties were cute? He more than likely would have drowned in a flood of embarrassment, had he been caught with feminine items between his fingers– really, the thought alone had caused a subtle flush of crimson to creep beneath his cheeks.
Lifting his sights towards the window, splays of light’d begun to illuminate the otherwise dim room, as indication that the sun had risen allowing a mass of brightness to secure those beneath it; lips parting some, the boy released a tired sigh, carefully placing the neatly folded articles into its bag, lifting with ease– he had to leave at some point, and the person without a name wasn’t returning any time soon. Not now, anyway. Perhaps he should have posted a notice–
Missing Items! Please return my superhero boxers soon, I have no idea how to function without them! Reward: I have a copy of Pokemon Leaf Green and a Gameboy Advanced, hmu.
Feeling the corners of his lips tug upwards, an amused chuckle spilled past; his jokes were the best.
At the end of the day, no one came up to him for the clothes. Sammy was thinking that maybe the owner didn’t care for them. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed yet. He stared at the neatly folded clothes and shrugged, putting them in a basket again. Well, they’ll spend an other day in his room until he found out to whom they belonged to. He carefully picked the basket up and was just about to go back to his apartment floor when he noticed a post-it placed against the notice board. Oh. Oh, so that’s the owner of the clothes. He stared at them for a while, especially the boxers, and snorted. The pokemon game did sound great. He always wanted to play Pokemon Leaf Green. He might just have to pick up his offer.
But, there was no phone number or way to contact the owner, just text and he felt himself pout. This was suddenly way more complicated than he was supposed to be. He huffed and rubbed his cheek, his lips forming a small frown as he reread the message a few times. Oh, he could just write something back. He looked around for a pen, having to go to the reception for one, because who carries one with them anyway, and quickly clicks it open to write something down on the paper. His tongue peeked out of his lips and his nose scrunched up as he tried to focus, wanting to write properly. He hoped his Korean was comprehensible and was easy to understand. he could feel his teeth sinking into his lower lip nervously. Hopefully this was good enough.
Sammy picked up the basket again and made his way to his apartment floor, making sure to take the stairs because the elevators too forever, and he didn’t want to be judged over superhero boxers. He rubbed his eyes and let out a small yawn, maybe he could nap while he waited for the owner to find him. Man, this was becoming a cat and mouse game. He hoped he didn’t have to keep the clothes, as cool as the boxers were.
‘Hey, you didn’t leave a way to message you. I got your clothes, they’re clean and all folded, and I’ll totally pick up the offer for the video game. If you want, you can come over to my apartment, I’m room 102. Make sure to ring the doorbell a few times because I might be napping!’
He hadn’t found himself genuinely upset at his lack of clothes in the moment-- it was only a week’s worth, after all. Another trip to the dorms would probably make up for his missing items, but never would it be able to replace the boxers he’d bought in L.A. Superheroes were his ‘thing’ and he’d grown attached to the rather nerd-like articles of clothing that no one but himself-- and a stranger in his own apartment building-- were able to see.
However, Kim Namjoon was your friendly, self certified idiot. You know, the one that never checked his pockets before throwing an item into the wash? Yes, that kind. As if to make matters worse, he’d remained upon that hallmark prior to this set of clothes, which meant only one thing to the alchemist who couldn’t use his knowledge-- or rather, power-- in public without severe repercussions ( there were cameras ): he had no keys.
And that was how one would find him, perched upon the staircase of the third floor, pouting as a child would. Using the supply of sticky notes and influx of pens at the lobby was luck to the boy, but alas, here he was once more with a basket of neatly folded laundry, and a sullen take to his demeanor that greatly differed his usual output. Poking at the basket, he wrinkled his nose, knowing fully well that sulking in front of the inanimate articles wouldn’t quite achieve much of anything. “How am I supposed to live?” Translation: How am I supposed to catch up on Steven Universe? A lack of Steven Universe could only mean one thing.
Death.
Okay, not death, but it sure felt like it.
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