Analysis Complete...

Hangman / 23 / Sinopia ... " They compare me to a robot. " ... " But I can't tell them it breaks my clockwork heart. "

[blckhangman-blog]

                             BLCKTMPL Mood Board:        Hangman - Like Clockwork “And as always, to the android,                You conceal yourself with truthful lies                                                                    I'm a ghost, it's true,                                                                                        So I suppose I'm not visible to you...”

[jokerblck-blog]

* aim for the top.

[blckhangman-blog]

Ivory...

Joker...

( ... )

“Still, I think we can do it, but only if you’re both sure that you’re up for it, too. We’re a team for tonight, you know?”

( ... )

(She doesn’t want to think about the other message in the note. She doesn’t want to consider how her name could add to that list any moment now, leaving her as nothing but another number.)  

“There are three of us… and three statues….” she mumbles to herself under her breath, unconsciously tightening her grip on her canister. Perhaps she should allow it to rest in its initial active form instead of keeping it concealed the way she does ─ who knows if something will suddenly spring up and prevent her from using it the way she should. “Do you think we can do it? We may have an advantage in the dark when it comes to ambushes, but as far as the traps go…”

Her words trail off as teeth worry at her lip. The glance she throws between them is uncertain at best, but it doesn’t take long for her to end up staring at Royal Milk, sighing as her shoulders slump.

“Don’t tell me ─ the general consensus is ‘what’s the worst that can happen’, isn’t it?”

There’s a moment of pause, it seems, between all three of them. Between Joker’s somewhat cocky and aloof nature and Ivory confusion Hangman thinks he might have found quite the particular team to fall into. If nothing else, he can play a balance and that’s likely something necessary, at least he would hope so. He pushes some of his hair from his face- directly his glance instantly to the masked one the moment they appear. Noticing is, after all, all he’s ever been good at. It’s all he’s ever done, so it’s something easy enough to do. He watches them jog up- patiently waits as they speak to Joker briefly. An envelope is passed off and Hangman just waits his turn to hear what’s going on or possibly read the envelope himself. Neither is a negative, so long as Joker stays trustworthy.

The missions sounds... tough, as expected. They could simply make a mad dash and try not to die or they could strive for that extra mile of touching the statues because... Fame is important or something like that. He glances to Ivory from the corner or his eye- listening to her mumbling. She’s not likely to want to participate in the side mission, and part of him doesn’t want to force her. She’s already stressed out enough and he feels guilty somewhere inside his metal heart for that. He doesn’t show it though, only continue his blank stare as she speaks up again. He’s a bit shocked that she even asks.

“Truthfully, I don’t think it’s too large of a concern. There will likely be other teams running around attempting to touch the statues at the same time as us, and while there are still more mercenaries than there are of us, I doubt they would be able to get a good hit on us.” He nods his head just slightly before glancing up to Joker now. There’s something comforting about the fact that Joker has a strong leadership quality. It means, for once, Hangman doesn’t have to worry about calling too many shots. Ivory speaks up again and the blank stare returns to her. He almost wants to chuckle, but nothing happens. He just can’t help but be amused at how dejected this is all making her.

“Have you come to that sort of conclusion of me? I wasn’t even thinking that...” Empty sounding. “But, perhaps you’re right. Those were not my thoughts but in hindsight I’m sure that the worst would just be our deaths and we’ve already come awfully close tonight, haven’t we?”

He pauses for only a moment- perhaps for a split second there’s a hint of a snarky smirk on his face- concealed partially by part of the hood. Maybe it was there for the ghost of a moment but it disappears seconds later- back to the nothingness it came from.

“You know what... Maybe I could ever drive us there.”

[blckhangman-blog]

clockworkhangman posted:

I’m quite terrible at keeping up with all this social media... Everyone is so vibrant and I’m usually so very tired.

[blckhangman-blog]

clockworkhangman posted:

I’m very glad to have this phone now. It prevents me from continuously forgetting the date and time.

[blckhangman-blog]

Light Blue Silhouette

@archerblck

Training, at least physically, has never been his favorite thing in the world. It’s necessary, yes. It’s something that he knows better than to stop. If he were to give up on it he’d likely hear word from those who put him here in the first place. Even if he didn’t his skills would likely fall off during a mission and he’d end up dead. Whether or not he’s not the strongest among candidates, it’s better that he make efforts to stay in shape and on par with their skills. Just because he’s smaller and weaker doesn’t mean he’ll lose necessarily, after all. He just needs to make sure to use that mind of his to his advantage.

Of course, training against dummies and targets isn’t exactly the best for honing strategy. Hangman often finds himself wondering if it would be a good plan to find a partner to train with, if only so he could have an opponent with a brain. Then again, if he only trained against the same person he would adapt his fighting against that person specifically... Then he’d be in trouble against someone else. What he really needs is several different training partners, but he’s really not friendly enough to find that many people. Even now with there being a few people also here training, he isn’t compelled to speak to them exactly. If anything, he just eyes them occasionally to see how they fight. It’s always nice to watch people and pick up on their flaws ahead of time. Hopefully he can recall their faces if it becomes a necessity.

But there’s something- or someone, should he say- standing out. In this case, he’s standing out quite literally, just on the outskirts of the training area watching. Hangman recognizes the way it looks, if nothing else, because he’s been one to pull similar things himself. The only major difference being the way he watches, which usually also includes him sketching the people training in ballpoint pen. The idea that this stranger could be watching and analyzing him, though... In a way, it bothers him. It’s not that he’s not controlled- that he doesn’t already hide every last bit of his expression and body language, but that he isn’t sure that he’s worth watching to learn anything about fighting.

So he stops in his training- placing his cylinder in his pocket after the two halves reconnect with one another. His expressions stay blank as he approaches the stranger on the outside. This ones expressionless too. He always wishes somewhere deep down that they weren’t. It’s not a good coping mechanism. He only uses it himself because of the other things it allows.

“Pardon.” He doesn’t sound like he actually cares if he’s interrupting anything. “You appear to just be watching the training... You’ll learn more combat wise if you participate. Care to join me? We can stay toward the sides if you’re worried about the others watching you.”

[blckhangman-blog]

Lost Ivory

@blckduchess

As it turns out, despite being usually quite organized Hangman can be painfully bad at recalling basic information when drunk. Last night, he made a note for himself that he had lessons with Ivory today. So he woke up this morning, vaguely hung over but logic enough and headed out to meet her. The issue being that his drunk self from last night had the wrong date- thinking it was a weekday as opposed to the weekend. So it’s only when he reaches the learning center and spends about 15 minutes trying to find Ivory he realizes that it’s entirely possible that either: 1. she’s dead and he must now accept that fact, 2. she’s extremely late and will be hearing about it when she gets here or 3. he has the wrong day of the week.

None of this stops him from calmly looking around the learning center yet again, though. This time he’s making a note to watch a few people around to entertain himself while he does so. The types who come here always have a certain fascinating air to them. Then again, perhaps that’s just a part of being a candidate. All of them have different ways their reacting to being put through this hellish lifestyle, but it develops them into odd cases- different types. He likes watching them to see the quirks they develop- the coping mechanisms. Some do better than others, he would say, but none of them would be here if they hadn’t found some way to deal with it.

His eye hover over one girl for a bit longer than the others- if only because for a split second he mistakes her for Ivory. In hindsight, they look completely different and he’s an idiot, but he really can’t be blamed for his quick glance failing him. She seems interesting enough, though, and he’s starting to get tired of looking for his Korean tutor... So he might as well speed this process up.

“Pardon me.” His voice shows no remorse for the interruption- empty as always. He gives a slight bow of his head as he approaches the woman. “Have you seen a woman around here named Ivory? She’s about my height, screams when you drive too quickly and has a horrible sense of aim...” A pause. He realizes that description is less than helpful, but physical features have never been as easy for him to describe as the quirks and characteristics he sees in a person.

“Ah... Short bob cut, dark brown. Softer face as well?” He’s not sure how much any of that is worth. “She was intended to meet me here.”

[blckhangman-blog]

Aim For The Han River

[blckhangman-blog]

Ivory.

Joker.

( ... )

“Hey, Royal Milk Guy,” he calls back down, leaning over the edge of his perch to look at the pair, “Catch.” And with that cavalier kind of trust that only Joker could possibly manage, he tosses his weapon gently down toward the pair so that he can properly climb off of this stupid archway that’s somehow digging into his feet through his shoes.

( ... )

Between a gulp of air and a shakily raised finger, there’s a number of words sharp and at the ready on her tongue that all but fall off into a pit of jumbled sounds when someone else speaks. It’s then that she looks up, the expression on her face all but a sketch of what now? as she squints, slowly putting the puzzle together.

She thinks that “Royal Milk” doesn’t quite suit the guy she’d been stuck with this past hour or so, but if there’s one thing she’d learned since that harrowing time in those storage containers, it’s that names are best left unquestioned.

“Coffee guy”, also, doesn’t seem all too steady as far as thought processes go, given the ease in which he’d just toss his weapon despite how poorly that choice of action could go. The noise she makes is one of startled distress ─ for his sake, it seems; she’d been making that sound quite often since she’d woken up ─ but it’s quickly soothed in some odd, scrambling way.

Royal Milk is good for unexpected graces, she supposes; and Coffee’s aim isn’t exactly awful. As the container smacks Royal Milk square on the head, bouncing sadly in her direction thereafter, Ivory comes to the conclusion that out of the many ways that this could’ve gone, this one was the safest and most secure. Not to mention that maybe, just maybe, Royal Milk would have some sense knocked into him now.

She’d say just as much, but time is a creeping pressure at their backs, and Ivory wants nothing more than to get to the temple and avoid even more distressing situations as soon as possible.

“I’ve got it!” she confirms, waving Coffee’s cylinder in her hand. Not an ounce of concern for Royal Milk’s skull is shown; she’s sure he’ll be fine. Given the traffic situation and the fact that, you know, they’re being hunted down, she’s not so sure if they all will be if they continue to dawdle for long.

“We know where to go from here, right?” The thought that she’d automatically assumed Coffee would now be joining them on their track to the temple crosses her mind as something presumptuous; maybe she should fix that. “I mean ─ if you’re coming too? To the Bongeunsa Temple?”

If he was the type to laugh, he would probably do so when he hears Coffee calling him ‘Royal Milk Guy’. It seems that his particular choice of drink has left an impression on this coffee-obsessed cafe man. Not that he can be shocked considering how much he’s heard the other discuss how important it is that he find some form of cafe coffee he likes... But that’s really not all the important right now. What is important is the cylinder that is now hurling toward him.

And when it clocks him in the forehead he can’t help the slight wince that graces his face for a small moment. He failed the catch order, but really how was he supposed to considering the LSD trip he’s still enjoying? Really, how did Coffee even think that it was a good idea to chuck a metal cylinder at him in the first place? Then again, Hangman judged him as being the reckless type from the moment he met him. This shouldn’t be too much of a shock.

“I suppose I deserved that...” He rubs his forehead slightly- face back to blank as he tries to adjust to the slight pain throbbing from it. At least his poor companion managed to catch the cylinder despite the fact that she is still, clearly, not having the best time here. He nods at her weakly before looking back up at Coffee. Having a third ally certainly isn’t a plan that he plans to object to in any way. Besides, a reckless guy like this might have his uses when it comes to mafia...

“Feel free to join us down here. While your aim has just proven to be as terrible as her’s, I suppose our collective aim might be good enough to give us a slight chance against any mafia who hunt us down. Though I still am willing to bet their collective aim is better...” He shakes his head at that- watching as Coffee lands in some all too flashy manner. He wouldn’t expect anything less...

“Now then... with that in mind, let’s head out. Ah, but no more throwing... Of anything.”

[blckhangman-blog]

...OOC

(( Well... my  hands are on fire from writing so much.))

((So I suppose... Like this post if I’m still not plotting with you and you’d like to plot with Hangman. Or, if you’re shy or don’t have ideas, feel free to comment a color and I’l write you a random starter instead owob~))

[blckhangman-blog]

Aim Lower (But Don’t Hit Me.)

[blckhangman-blog]

Ivory.

( ... )

At least the idea he comes up with is one that she’d already been thinking of, herself, though confusion runs across her face and a brow slightly raises in the process.

“You? Why you?” Would it not make more sense for her to be the one being lifted? It’s certainly what one would expect, if nothing else ─ but it doesn’t stop her from stepping forward and getting into position anyway, anxiousness to retrieve her cylinder running near rampantly. 

“─could you please bring my shoe back, too?” Her sock-covered toes squirm in discomfort. At least she hadn’t thrown the second one in an attempt to try again ─ her aim shouldn’t nearly be that bad, but with the weakness that pulls her down to less than her best, it’s not something she thinks she was much capable of helping. 

He stares at her for what feels like far too long. She’s way too slow- but he really can’t blame her considering the drugs. It’s not like he’s feeling like he should be running around out here either, but the fear of a bullet in his head is far more frightening than getting sick because of his drug induced state. She’s amazing at speaking though. ‘Huh’ is such an incredible statement. He crosses his arms for only a moment as he waits for her to catch up. He’d love for them to hurry, but they really shouldn’t be at this exact moment.

So when she asks why him, he just shrugs his shoulders lazily. He’s not going to admit right away that it’s because he doubts that he’s stronger than she is. He just waits for her to step forward and, as soon as she’s in position, steps into her hands in order to jump up and grab the ladder. He pulls himself up seconds later- though the effort from it is a bit dizzying with the effects of the drugs in place. He stops to breath for a second- letting that overwhelming feeling fade away. Only then does he manage to pull the cylinders to his chest- quickly noticing which one is his. He tucks this strange girl’s cylinder in her shoe because peeking over the railing down at her- expression still dead and empty.

“Catch.” He mutters barely before dropped the shoe and cylinder combination next to her. After he has he climbs back down the later and drops to the ground with a slight “Oof.” He straightens up- eyes glancing around the alley. 

Mission Complete: Ally Found.

Mission Complete: Weapon Found.

He glances over his shoulder at her. She’s distracted putting her shoe on... That’s good. Running around without a shoe would only make her more uncomfortable. That, despite his demeanor, he doesn’t want. She seems freaked out and that’s a negative. This is likely her first mission. She acts like she’s not at all prepared- like this is her first time dealing with all of this at once. Such a  hard mission for her first one too... If they run into the mafia will she start to get even more broken up? He doesn’t want to see her crack.

He steps out of the alley in silence- not telling her his plan yet. She still struggling with her shoe, after all. There’s a car parked nearby and he stares at it for only a moment before he makes up his mind. They have quite a ways to run- more than an hour’s drive... Clearly, they shouldn’t be trying to run that whole way.

So driving while on LSD is likely a better choice.

Breaking into a car is not a talent he knew he had, but it’s one he manages. In his mind he comments that it must be that the car is as mechanical as he is. He pulls the door opened and, quickly enough, starts to figure out how to hotwire it. It’s a  bit difficult, but he’s always been a quick learner. This isn’t something... He thought he would use when he learned it.

Within a minute he’s pulling up next to Ivory and glancing at her with that same- deadpan expression.

“Hey, get in... We’re going to fight the mafia.”

[blckhangman-blog]

Advice Like Clockwork

@blckjinx

The library isn’t necessary Hangman’s normal choice of places to hang out, but truthfully, that doesn’t say much. If he had his choice he wouldn’t really be ‘hanging out’ anywhere in particular- just staying at home and resting. But he does require some forms of social interaction, despite how robotic he plays himself off as, and that means that leaving his home is necessary from time to time. So he tends to choose locations near at random- simply heading out to people watch in order to keep his character analyst skills in form. 

Sometimes he finds himself watching The Masked Ones- considering them a challenge due to being unable to see their expressions. Under there they are still human, though. They still have quirks and traits. He’s made it a silent goal to be able to tell them apart based on their actions alone... However, today, he’s at the library to watch Candidates instead. Sometimes he feels its a good idea to somewhat familiarize himself with these people before he actually interacts with them. Knowing a thing or two ahead of time, after all, might prove useful. So he’s sitting still- trying only minimally to make himself look like he’s reading (which is honestly too difficult for him, so he’d rather not) while he actually watches the various people inhabiting the library.

Watching people read isn’t exactly the most interesting thing in the world, but he’s done worse in the past. Following people in their daily lives to judge the content of their character can be tedious and miserable. Most people have awfully monotonous lives, after all. But being bored isn’t his concern. He can entertain himself if necessary. He can do whatever if necessary- it’s just how he is. He tilts the book he’s holding in his hands- turning a page more out of habit and compulsion than for any real reason. The person he was watching has left and that means he’s stuck needing to find someone new or head home.

He glances over the small amount of people with unnatural eyes- blank stare as prevalent as it always is. He only stops his scan once his eyes rest on a familiar figure. Jinx, if he recalls correctly, is this one’s name. The two of them have had to work together once or twice in the past. The other man has an emotionless quality to him as well, though Hangman has seen through the cracks in that mask maybe once or twice to understand more. Being emotionless isn’t exactly a badge of honor, after all. Turning yourself into a robot- into a blank slate- isn’t a positive. It isn’t cool despite the way they depict it on television... No, being this way is... oddly painful.

He stands slowly now- placing the book down on the table noiselessly. He only approaches Jinx after a slight pause- stopping to push some of his hair away from one of his eyes. He, at least, would like to be able to see. He stands beside the other man and glances down at him- empty as always. In a way, he feels bad for addressing someone he might call a friend or acquaintance without even a hint of friendliness or kindness, but he just... can’t. He can’t change what he is now, no matter if his mind sometimes wanders. So he doesn’t budge from that dead expression, even as his voice comes out in a monotonous drone.

“It’s been a while, Jinx.” He leans on the table just a little- hand holding onto the edge of the surface. “I see you’re still holding up an empty facade...”

[blckhangman-blog]

Malfunction

@blckchariot

This place is always calm later in the day. Perhaps it’s a fear of bugs or just the dark in general, but the fields are always empty when he steps into them later at night. He couldn’t care less about obscured vision and buzzing insects so long as he has a moment to stand alone and enjoy the flowers. It’s a little odd, perhaps, to be picking flowers in the later evening, but when has Hangman ever been anything but odd in the first place? He sees no reason to throw up a veil of normalcy now, though perhaps it would be easy enough to accomplish. 

He adjusts the small bouquet he’s holding in one of his hands before barely adjusting his hair. It’s better that his hair stays in his face, as far as he’s concerned. Even if there’s no one around to stare at his now extremely unnatural eyes, he’s been trying to get used to having hair in his face for a while now... It’s not working out perfectly. 

He takes a slightly deeper breath- glancing down to see if there’s any more flowers he wants to pick. He’s not exactly sure when he started doing this, but he does enjoy collecting these soft plants. It never shows on his face, but these flowers give him some odd kind of happiness. It’s just a small buzz of a pleasant feeling, and it’s not enough to be noteworthy, but it’s there none the less. He turns his head to a flower a few steps away. He’ll probably grab that one and head home. He doesn’t want to stay out too late, after all...

A few steps over and he finds himself rather suddenly toppling to the ground though. His foot snagged on something and he barrels into the ground face first. Judging by the noise made by the thing his foot got caught against- he is hit with more than just the ground. He’s hit with a realization. The thing he just tripped against... Is a human. A guy, actually. Some guy he isn’t familiar with and Hangman has just made himself a total fool in front of him.

So he stays there- laying face first in the grass with his arms barely propping him up. He’s sure he should give an apology or something- anything, but instead his mind locks up as soon as he tries to come up with what the proper response to this situation should be. Internally he recognizes this, in the dumbest fashion, as a malfunction, similar to that a robot would have. It’s only fitting that he would have them sometimes too...

The flowers sort of scatter around him in slow motion- falling slower than he did in the first place due to their light nature. A few land on him, but he still doesn’t budge. Maybe he’s embarrassed, but his face wouldn’t show it... No, he’s just... a bit frozen in place... He’ll be fine. He just needs to stay on the ground for a moment first.

[blckhangman-blog]

Aim For The Han River

@blckivory and @jokerblck

They’ve managed to, at least, avoid the mafia. This has involved far more running than he would like and at this point his absolute direction feels like it’s failing him. See, while he has been in Seoul he hasn’t been around Seoul often and certainly not outside of a car. So  he was hoping, if nothing else, that he’d know to head south. But, as it turns out LSD likes to take you for a spin and a half and south is feeling more north than it should while east feels a bit more like up. He’s hating the way that his stomach is churning even now as they continue to run, but if nothing else they’ve gotten this far and he should be happy that he’s got his hands on his weapon once again.

He’s also found an ally, which is probably good or something. Not that she’s proven to be extremely useful yet but he can’t say he has either. They’re working together because, well, they can, and that means that they both might as well stay together until Seoul stops spinning and the mafia stops having guns. Did he mention that fight guns with a garrote is some form of torture? It is. He’s annoyed by it. None of this is showing on his face, though. He won’t even let the dizzying effects of the LSD break his robotic mask no matter how much he thinks that taking a dip in the Han River is starting to sound like a good way to cool his head.

Speaking of the Han, they’ve at least managed to reach it after all this running and that car that he stole and... possibly crashed. Driving is not his best skill and while he tried to obey the traffic laws (though noting that traffic was absolutely terribly) some mafia members spotted both himself and Ivory inside their little (stolen) car they had no choice but to bail. How did they get away after Hangman’s several minutes  of extremely reckless driving (his father would be proud)? Well, Hangman pulled into an alley, hit a dumpster and they ran leaving the car and mafia behind. Good enough.  Now that their at the Han, he pauses only for a moment- adjusting his hood and letting out heavy breathes. He’s in shape, but this running is still far too much for him (as is driving like he belongs in MadMax). His head rolls to the side as he looks at his companion. The obvious answer for getting across the Han is to take a bridge, but he just can’t let his awful sense of humor go. So instead, he deadpans at her.

“I wonder if you could throw me across the Han...” he looks toward the nearest bridge. They’re going to get to have one hell of a time playing chicken with all of those cars... “Then again... your aim is still the issue... And the Han is running away from Gangnam from here, isn’t it? Pity... Otherwise I’d say we should try swimming. That would be one way to avoid the mafia...”

He then starts to walk toward the bridge- only glancing back to make sure she’s following. They haven’t had a mafia run in yet, and they’d like to keep it that way. That means they need to keep moving even if moving is probably less pleasant than a dip in the Han. He really needs... to stop thinking about jumping in the Han. Once they get across he can maybe steal another car or... They could probably just run. It doesn’t matter. What does is the bridge and all of the cars their going to have to NOT get hit by. His head spins suddenly and hard- causing him to stumble for a short moment. He stands straight again and sighs. 

“Come on... We can cross using the bridge. Just watch for cars.” He almost feels bad for her. She doesn’t even have someone who can show her sympathy here... She’s stuck with him- the ally that he’s pretty sure no one wanted to have. “I can’t really take a speeding car for you... So please be careful.” It’s the only comfort he can offer.

And so he takes one more deep breath before running into the traffic on the bridge. At this moment, he’s glad for the Seoul traffic being so terrible. It at least means the cars aren’t zooming across the bridge, but moving at a manageable speed. That doesn’t change the way that they all honk at him, though... He’s sure their honking at her too... It’s really an annoying sound. It makes his head ring. Or maybe that’s the LSD too...

He only stops when suddenly he spots something from the corner of his eyes. A man, one he can’t help but recognize as the one who’s so obsessed with coffee, is hanging in a rather amusing manner from the bridge’s supports... Clearly he’s trying to reach his cylinder, which has been hung not far away. It seems when you’re even taller and Hangman and his still nameless companion they’re even crueler with the height they hide things from you. He’s glad that he didn’t have to attempt climbing bridge supports... His companions shoe might have gone in the Han that way.

Enough with the Han already.

“Coffee Man... you might be awfully easy to shoot up there... Though don’t worry, I’m sure neither my companion or I could hit you if we threw our shoes.”

[blckhangman-blog]

The Cliche Symbolism Of Rain

@reaperblck

Maybe he looks stupid, he really can’t be sure. He’s always made such notes to control his appearance- the way he seems in other’s eyes- that actually doing something that might change what people think of him too much is a bit... odd for him. He can’t bring himself to mind, though. He can’t hate the feeling of the rain dripping down his face even if the torrential downpour is far too intense to be normally comfortable. He likes the feeling of rain. He likes the sound of it even when it’s this hard and heavy. Even though his hair and clothes are completely soaked through he doesn’t bother to budge from his place on the bench. His face is turned upward toward the sky- eyes closed. Somehow it feels refreshing.

In movies rain is always used as symbolism for new beginnings or cleansing. The hero steps into the rain after committing a murder and, in the logic of the movie, that sin is washed away. It can also be used as an amplifier for bad emotions- like anger or sadness. Crying in the rain is a trope that, in a way, Hangman appreciates. The drops of water hide any real tears. Of course, it’s still obvious from a person’s expression when they cry. Not as much on TV or in the movies, perhaps, but in real life at least. He’s always had a harder time watching movies... He can always pick up on all of the slightly incorrect quirks the actors have when emoting. Being a character analyst has truthfully made entertainment near impossible.

He lets out a breath and opens his eyes for just a moment- allowing himself to look forward. His vision is obscured enough without his glasses, but this is just ridiculous. The rain is so heavy that it’s hard to see very far into the Seoul streets. It wouldn’t be too shocking if someone managed to get into a wreck in this weather... Then again, it is night now. The only areas where the rain is completely visible are in the street lights. The rest of it is obscured with the darkness. In a way, the lights look better that way. There’s something beautiful about the downpour. He just wishes he had more ability to express that... outwardly.

Then again, if he could that would ruin everything, wouldn’t it?

He turns his head slowly as he notices a slightly different sound coming somewhere from within the darkness and downpour. If he’s not mistaken, that’s the sound of someone growing closer- likely running through the rain considering most people’s feeling toward it. He only stares out of habit. If the approaching figure is just passing by, he can go back to relaxing. If there’s a reason to stop and talk, he can. It’s not exactly difficult for him to manage either. What’s important is that he maintains his robotic image, even if the rain perhaps leaves a threat of rust.

When the figure is a bit closer he gets a closer look. Another guy- though he could be older or younger. Korean, though that’s not even a small shock as far as Hangman is concerned. It seems that this stranger has also been stuck in the rain for quite some time considering how soaked he is... For a moment, he reacts almost on instinct. He’s speaking without thinking first.

“Quite the storm, hm?” But then he realizes what he’s done. The first sentence may have had a weak, but somewhat pleasant tone, but after that it’s gone. He’s back to a monotonous and empty- what slight light his eyes held also dying out as though extinguished by the rain. “Clearly you and I have both suffered the brunt of it, though you at least appear to be fighting back somewhat... Tell me, what brought you out into this cliche movie scene?”

[blckhangman-blog]

Long Time Coming

[blckhangman-blog]

Babydoll...

( ... )

by her senses alone, she assumed that he had noticed too, the way she had been staring at him from the beginning and how she assumed he had done the same and recognized the gaze she had placed upon him. he would not mind of she had taken a seat then, perhaps? although it was unlike her to not order anything before she had taken the chance to sit down. babydoll’ eyes wavered from his book to his tired eyes. “so you’ve noticed, huh? i figured. then i wouldn’t have had the courage to take a seat across from you.” her eyes just as emotionless as his. 

“royal milk tea? that’s a good choice. with those bags under your eyes, you could use another.” while there was a hint of a small smile there, it disappeared before anyone could get a chance to notice. “i couldn’t possibly ask you to get me anything, if that’s what you’re really asking. but appreciate the gesture. are you really not going to ask why i was looking at you? you noticed, did you not?” she asked, leaning against her seat with her arms crossed in front of her.

He doesn’t budge as she speaks- glancing to his drink of choice for only a moment before looking back at the girl in front of him. He doesn’t hardly move- none the less speak until she’s finished. She’s got an expressionless look, but it’s not as trained as his. He can watch her body language if he needs to figure anything out. It’s the expressionless ones like himself that are the hardest to trust- the ones that are trying to hide something behind their visage. He, of course, has his separate reasons for why he is the way he is. He needs to be this way to figure things out. For now, though he doesn’t bother to observe too closely. He has no reason to.

“The bags are natural.” Empty as always. He pulls his scarf down with a single finger in order to lift the drink to his lips and enjoy the taste of it. It’s sweet, which he’s sure could be taken to mean something as to his personality, but he really doesn’t see that as any form of important detail. He places the cup back down with an odd silence before letting the scarf go once more so it can resume cover his mouth from view. It’s useful when hiding expressions- even if he basically never makes any in the first place. He crosses his arms neatly and leans back in his chair just a bit more. He supposes he at least should speak up a bit more.

“I see no reason to ask.” The words are spoken deadpan but perhaps a bit matter-of-fact. He lifts two fingers from his grip on  his arm in a neutral gesture. “I did notice, but I don’t particularly care as to why you were staring. I’m certain you have your reasons and I don’t care if I’m being looked at myself.” He lets his head tilt very slightly to the side as he crosses his legs. He’s very upright- poised- but untelling. He just looks stiff. He always looks this way. Like he’s a robot- like he’s barely human if anything.

“There are enough cameras and people staring at us in this place that I’m certain if I had an issue with being watched it likely would have come up.” He looks to the side slightly- just into the distance for a moment. It often shocks people how much he talks, but he’s never been the silent type. He says a lot when he’s spoken to, but what he says amounts to very little. He attempts, if nothing else, to make himself somewhat unmemorable or unexciting.

“Is that a disappointment? If you were hoping for me to ask I could rephrase and attempt to do so.” He’s back to look at her- though not even the dead glint in his eyes has shifted. His head naturally tilts down so that the scarf covers more of it. He’s looking the girl over with a sharp gaze- despite it being still nothing much. If she makes too many moves, he’ll notice easily enough. He can play along, though. He always can play along. That’s been a part of his work for as long as he can remember.

[blckhangman-blog]

Aim Lower (But Don’t Hit Me.)

@blckivory

For once his blank stare almost fits the scenario. How did it come to this? When he came to his senses he was already jogging through the city with a fuzzy memory and realizing that things were, if anything, a bit off. He recalls, at least partially, why his memories are so broken but more why his head feels so utterly unclear. He hates it. His mind is his only real weapons- his ability to watch and learn is what keeps him strong. This damn drug is an absolute nightmare.

On top of that, he’s back in the lovely tacky track pants and hoodie They just can’t allow him to keep his signature scarf, can they? It make his expression hiding that much more difficult, but even on the drug it’s natural for him to to keep everything as empty as possible. So he ran for a while- searching for his weapon as it seemed like the best plan.

By the time he spotted it, he started to realize things might go downhill. He’s never met this girl- has no clue who she is. Well, it’s clear she’s also a Candidate judging by the fact there they are now both staring blankly at their cylinders. How did they get on the fire escape? Is this a jab at the fact that both of them are the minimum height? How is he going to get up there in the first place? He glances at the girl again- blank as always. She’s as staring, but she seems to be thinking of something quite clearly. She has a plan.

The moment she starts to pull her shoe off he puts a hand out only slightly. Between the drug and the way she looks, he assumes that she won’t be able to aim well enough to knock the cylinders down successfully. Unfortunately, the drug makes it a bit hard to speak quickly and her shoe is long gone by the time he even manages to open his mouth to try and tell her that it’s a bad plan. He watches the shoe soar through the air, into the fire escape, and then... It’s stuck.

“Good job.” He’s completely deadpan, but internally he might be making some sort of joke. “If you had just waited a few moments I could have informed you that your aim is shit... However, I must admit my fault. I didn’t realize your aim was that poor. You didn’t even miss. You’ve made the absolute worst throw possible. If you had missed the shoe could have at least been retrieved. Now it’s stuck with the cylinders and you’re left barefoot...” Devoid of anything, he continues to stare at his cylinders and now the shoe that accompanies them both. “I would say you should attempt to toss me onto the fire escape, but considering the aim with your shoe that sounds extremely unpleasant. I haven’t practiced my human cannon ball act.” He crosses his arms slowly- not looking at her still. He’s slowly calculating a plan that doesn’t involve shoe throwing, or any throwing, for that matter. 

“And judging by your extremely poor aim, you’d throw me at such an angle that I would somehow slip directly through the cracks in the fire escape and my neck would get caught... Then my name would become awfully ironic, wouldn’t it...?” He walks toward the fire escape and look up at it from below. There’s nothing long enough to knock the objects down easily. Climbing will be optimal... It seems that there will have to be some form of boost required.

“Come over here and boost me up.” He glances back at her only now. “I can reach the ladder with a bit of assistance and then I can retrieve both of our weapons. At this point, it is only logical that we work together, so we can complete this mission after we have gotten them down.” He gestures weakly noncommittally- still far to difficult to read. Everything he’s doing is unreadable- neutral. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He pulls his hood up only now.

“We also might should make an effort to hurry. As much fun as I’m sure we could have fighting the mafia and their guns weaponless, I think it would be more productive if they never find us.”

[blckhangman-blog]

Long Time Coming

@blckbabydoll

This has become somewhat of a routine. He can recall many days when he was told that he should expand his horizons- learn to like new things. He was always dubbed as a bit ‘picky’ though he never thought much of it himself. He has a small pool of things he likes but a large pool of things that he’s okay with. That shouldn’t cause too many problems, but as it turns out people still take it the wrong way when you only seem to choose a few things when it’s up to you. Perhaps it’s how rarely he got to choose that makes him never grow tired of the same few choices...

But things are a bit different now. He has the ability to choose almost always, except for perhaps in missions where they change things up on him. So long as he stays within a certain set of rules he finds that he’s completely free. In a strange way, life within BlckTmpl is almost more free to him than life was outside of it. He could provide that as an excuse for why he’s so calm. Then again, he’s always this way, so it doesn’t matter.

This has also cause the choice to try new things, though. He’s been ordering different drinks off the menu at The Shack for a while now- trying each one as earnestly as possible. Unfortunately this has resulted in him disliking most of the drinks and have little to no preference on the rest. He hasn’t been able to find anything that he ‘likes’ yet aside from the only one he knew he liked from the beginning: Royal Milk Tea. He hasn’t had it in a while, though, as he’s trying so hard to find something else... Again he’s sitting in The Shack with some odd beverage sitting in front of him- sketching some elaborate landscape with strange creatures inhabiting it. This has, after all, become a schedule- a daily thing. He can’t say he dislikes being here nor can he say it’s his favorite thing in the world... At least this way, though, he gets time to draw. He does, after all, enjoy that.

He has, however, noticed in recent times that there have been eyes on him. Not the usual type, either, but someone looking at him for a bit longer. It’s not uncommon for people to stare at him due to his constantly blank expression and perhaps off sense of attire, but he can still tell that there’s something different. So he looks around out of the corners of his eyes until he spots the culprit, a girl. He’s quick enough to glance her over- get a general idea and go back to drawing. He’s subtle enough in the way that he looks at her that he’s sure she won’t notice anyway.

It’s when he approaches and sits across from him that he finally acknowledges her- closing his book softly and placing the pencil on the table. He looks at her with the same empty expression- perhaps a bit more tired than usual. He tilts his head down slightly- so that more of his mouth is hidden by his scarf.

“Took you a while...” He places the book in his lap neatly- out of reach. “What is it you would like...? Would you like a drink in the meantime?”

[blckhangman-blog]

Absolem...

( ... )

 today was a little different. she didn’t have her textbooks or anything relating to the learning center. she was just there to relax and have a little bit of time to herself before the collectors threw her into some stupid situation again. she blinks a few times, noticing someone picking flowers. she walked up behind them, peeking over their shoulder.

❝you’re picking the flowers wrong. you could get cut that way.❞ she mumbled softly, deciding that she’d do a good deed today. and then she can go and live her life of being a horrible,heartless bitch for the next week or so.

It’s a time of day where, at least supposedly, less people are out in the field. He likes these quite moments- the points where he doesn’t feel like he needs to hide as much thanks to the lack of eyes burning into him at all times. When people aren’t looking his face remains blank, but sometimes a small quirk of an expression will come to him. He’s controlled instinctively now, but even that can’t stop him from natural expression when he’s not stopping himself. So as he crouches down to look a bit closer at the plants in front of him- a minuscule smile finds its way to his face- hidden under a oversized scarf as a habit.

He’s already picked several flowers. If he weren’t too concerned about people seeing him, maybe he would even start a garden to grow some of his own... But for now he’s just gathering the bouquet for his deary room. Hopefully the small splash of color will make waking up in the morning a tad less dull, even though he doubts it will do much. After all, they’ll likely start to wilt before too long. A small sigh escapes him. Now’s not a good time for his fatalism, so he reaches out to pluck yet another of the delicate plants.

Only to rather suddenly hear someone speaking up. His moves are instant- smile disappearing and expression back to near empty. The only slight hint of shock that’s given away is the way his eyes widen just a bit more and his eyebrows raise a tad. He looks toward the girl who feels like she’s appeared out of no where. Somehow, the shock has overwhelmed him, and that’s probably how he ended up dropping his bouquet.  The flowers sort of drift to the ground and spread out around him. It’s would be poetic, perhaps, if he weren’t currently more caught up in being concerned if this stranger saw any of his expression. He can’t exactly ruin his reputation so early.

“Cut?” With how deadpan he is, it’s often hard to tell when he’s even asking a question. “I was unaware these plants were sharp. I had assumed they were but normal plants.” The shock is gone with those words- back to a blank slate. He glances to the ground where the flowers have dropped before looking the girl directly in the eye. He’ll pick them up later.

“I was not expecting a sudden companion. Perhaps you have more gardening skills than I do?” He blinks, but stays stiff. There’s not much he can think of to say other than commenting on what she’s given him, but he watches closely. He’ll figure out what it is that’s going on in her mind... He just needs to watch her actions closely.

“If you care to advise me, I would be grateful.”