✩ danger, there's danger

It is a condition of monsters that they do not perceive themselves as such. The dragon, you know, hunkered in the village devouring maidens, heard the townsfolk cry 'Monster!' and looked behind him. " lee daehwi the famine card [ disclaimer ]

[ccfamine-blog]

defend

one word meme ; defend      setting : present day

Daehwi glares defiantly at a spot on Minhyun’s chest, the leader towering over him with his own penetrating stare boring into the top of Daehwi’s head. The living room is trashed, cushions ripped at the seams and spilling stuffing onto the carpeted floor, a ceramic lamp in pieces and a small flower pot spilling damp soil onto the floor. Unseen in the other room are Daehwi’s linens crumpled up and decorating his bedroom floor, a pair of high school workbooks torn and holey, lost somewhere near the closet. 

The dorm is eerily quiet in comparison to the ruckus that permeated the air just seconds ago.

“This is why everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Minhyun’s words are low and dark, sting to the very core like poisonous nettles embedded in his lung tissue.

Daehwi’s gaze shoots up, full of fire, threatening a cloudy white at the edges where his inner self has been lurking for several minutes, waiting for its chance to come out. He opens his mouth to protest, with thousand year old curse words on the tip of his tongue, his frame poised to lash out physically at his terrible awful cruel leader who never fails to condescend to him like he’s a child-

A pair of hands tug him back by the arms and a small frame slips between the seething card and the equally angry hero.

Truthfully, Daehwi can’t even remember what brought about his tantrum in the first place. Though it’s been ages since their last promotions, since the fan engagements and concerts that keep his hunger at bay. He craves the attention, his power aches unused inside of him, their idol diet leaves him so intensely hungry he feels like his true self might tear through his human skin at any second.

“Stop it,” he hears Kenta softly commanding through the furious haze clouding his own consciousness, his back protective glued to Daehwi’s front. “That’s not fair...You’re never this cruel with me.”

Daehwi’s eyes, still angry with a pale, animalistic glint to them, flicker back to Minhyun’s face challengingly.

“Because you’re n-”

“What?” Kenta interrupts, before heated words Minhyun will inevitably regret can escape, “I’m what? A good card?”

“Because you’re such a good her-” Daehwi starts to spit sarcastically, only to be drowned out by Kenta’s desperate attempt to keep the pair of them from being at each other’s throats anymore than they already have.

“You know that’s not how it works, Minhyun. We’re a family. There’s no good or bad about it.”

There’s a long pause, all five of them tense, nervous, as if anticipating another wave of chaos with bated breath.

“You and Minki should go out, maybe get food for everyone. Everything’ll be cleaned up when you get back. Ok?”

Minhyun’s lips flatten into a thin line, his eyes passing over Daehwi’s face one more time before he nods and heads for the door. Kenta’s sigh of relief is almost tangible.

[ccfamine-blog]

cook

one word meme ; cook       setting : present day au (?), valentine’s season

“I don’t get it,” Yongguk uttered flatly, the first time since he’d arrived at the dorm that he’d said more than two words at once. He stared down at the cookbook balanced on the edge of the counter, glossy, colorful photographs of macarons casting the beginnings of a confused scowl across Yongguk’s brow.

“You don’t get what?” Daehwi responded, careless and nonchalant where he lay sprawled upside down across the living room sofa, watching pigeons fight over chip crumbs through the foggy glass of the balcony door.

“What’s so great about these cookies? Does Kenta even-”

It was as if he’d blinked and missed Daehwi somehow covering the distance between the living room and the kitchen island in an instant. The Famine Card looked offended, at the very least, a strangely sour and intimidating expression that looked out of place under a shining mop of perfectly trimmed honey blond hair and on top of a form wrapped up in oversized pastel fleece down to the polka dot socks on his feet.

“Don’t be stupid, hyung.” The honorific fell from his lips almost derisively and certainly with irony: he was millennia old, but by now the practice of tacking it on after every sentence was practically inherent. In this moment, he wanted to make sure Yongguk knew just how ridiculous his question really was.

“Everyone like cookies. Everyone likes macarons. Everyone,” he insisted when he thought Yongguk’s next breath might have been in preparation to protest, his eyes flashing in a dare to interrupt him. “Look at them! They’re so pretty, and delicious, and nobody yells at you for eating them whole in front of their mothers because they don’t have mothers.”

Yongguk blinked, his face still frustratingly unreadable.

“That’s,” Daehwi continued when it was clear he wouldn’t be facing anymore interruptions, “what’s so great about these cookies.”

A moment of stillness passed between them, challenging, tangible.

“Then why can’t you make them?”

Famine groaned, tossing his head back dramatically.

“Because he’s your valentine not mine. And I still have twelve and a half boxes of chocolates to finish.”

He plucked the nearby whisk from where it lay discarded on a nearby countertop and slipped it daintily (see: firmly, and with no room for protest by pain of death) into Yongguk’s hand.

“Don’t take forever,” he called over his shoulder as he walked away, toward the pile of fan-gifted candies in the corner of the living room, “he’ll be home soon~”

[ccfamine-blog]

solace, song, scars, snow (PICK ONE OR ALL OF THEM AS YOU WISH)

one word meme ; snow, song, scars, solace       setting : present day au, somewhere cold

daehwi’s laughter is gleeful, mingling with the playful shouts from minki across the way, from behind their small mountain of crudely made snowballs. their stock is low, and kenta’s inherent winning streak isn’t helping. out of the corner of his eye, he sees jenta tackle minki from behind, the pair of them lost behind a small snowbank as the luck card flattens a handful of snow against minki’s face.

minhyun is nowhere to be seen. and then, in a flash of dark hair and height he darts from behind a tree.

“i see you!” daehwi shouts through a laugh, pelting a snowball at the familiar shadowy figure. he misses miserably, the snowball grazing a nearby bush and dissolving into nothing as the smile fades from his face, “hey, stop moving so much!”

minhyun reappears then, a mischievous glint in his eye, and daehwi only realizes too late what that means. the snowball bursts against his shoulder and he stumbles backward, only to run toward the perpetrator in the next second.

“i’m gonna get you hwang minhyun!”

it’s a fearless beeline, one that makes him blind against the way the small expanse of ground in front of him changes from snow to something sleeker. there’s another playful taunt on his tongue, one that morphs into a startled cry as the ice suddenly gives underfoot.

in one instant the game goes from harmless to dangerous as his foot slips through the ice, shoe, sock, and pant leg soaked through immediately. the edge caught by his toe sends him flying forward, face first, his forehead knocking dangerously against the surface when he lands. he blinks black stars from his vision, groaning as cold seeps into his bones and pain rings through his skull.

“daehwi!” minhyun dashes toward the card in a blur, game forgotten, the first one by his side, “daehwi? talk to me.”

the blond utters something imperceptible in response, but minhyun’s relief is short-lived when he helps him sit up and sees the small scarlet streak stark against the pale pallor of daehwi’s skin.

“look what you made me do,” the card mumbles in a sleepy way that worries minhyun, who supports his back with one hand and gently grasps his chin with the other.

“hey, hey look at me.”

“my ankle hurts.”

minhyun gently shushes him, scowling deeply as he observes the worrying width of daehwi’s pupils.

“but you told me to talk-”

“i know, i know. hey, what’s our title song called again?” he asks, glancing over daehwi’s should just long enough to send a small nod to minki and kenta, who stand feet away on safer ground, looking distressed. he’s fine, he tries to convey silently, without giving the boy in his arms any signs that he might be otherwise, he’ll be fine.

“verona,” daehwi answers with his own confused scowl, pulling the hero’s attention back toward him, “why are you asking dumb questions?”

“how does it go again?” he prompts, still not convinced that daehwi is entirely free of concussion, not when his speech still sounds too sleepy and his blinks still happen too slow. it could very well be minhyun’s overly-concerned imagination, but he doesn’t dare take any chances.

“what?”

“let’s sing it together.”

“right now?”

“right now.”

“but-”

“daehwi.”

daehwi frowns, but complies without further argument, starting at the chorus tentatively and scowling at minhyun until he joins in, as promised. 

they finish the first few lines together, without error, and minhyun is relieved, though he does his best not to let it show that he was ever concerned in the first place. the urge to pull daehwi into his arms and scold him over and over to never run on the ice again is almost tangible, but he resists, reaching up to carefully push daehwi’s bangs out of the minor cut still leaking red down the side of his face.

“you scared us, you know,” minhyun tells him seriously, pulling the sleeve of his shirt over the heel of his hand and dabbing away the drop of blood before it can find its way into daehwi’s eye.

daehwi lets out a disappointed, sardonic puff of air, one that’s cloudy and white against the frigid winter air.

“what is it?”

“i hate this stupid human body,” he’s upset, it’s clear in his gaze when his eyes meet minhyun’s (but so is the gradual and symmetrical shrinking of his pupils, and that’s a trade minhyun is happy to make), “i’ll never be able to fight with you. i can’t even be in a snowball fight without getting hurt. not in this body.”

he doesn’t have to say it, but the implication is there. and you’d be too afraid of the real me. everyone is. they always have been.

minhyun shrugs his coat off and tucks it around daehwi as he talks.

“i’m a burden. at least lucky’s lucky. i can’t do anything in battle. monsters aren’t even scared of me anymore, why do you even keep me around–ow!”

minhyun pulls his hand away from where he’s lightly flicked daehwi’s forehead, daehwi reaching up to cover the offended spot with his hand.

“that hurt.”

“that’s what happens when you say ridiculous things.”

“what do you mean? then you should get one for forgetting our title song!”

“come on,” minhyun stands after narrowly dodging his own flick attack from the injured card, offering a hand to help him up and catching him when he stumbles sideways on his hurt ankle, “we’ll have hot chocolate back at the dorm.”

“with the big marshmallows.”

“with the biggest marshmallows we can find.”

[cardcaptorsrp]

:// NEW WRITING MEME UNLOCKED!

hello to our lovely members! this is your admin egg here to share our first drabble meme! this time around, we’re doing something special! not only will you get to have loads of fun writing, but you also have the chance to gain points for your characters !

for this challenge, you will be awarded ONE (1) point for every TWO (2) people you send a meme to! whichever account you send the meme from will be awarded the points, and this works up until you hit ask limit! (you can still send asks from other accounts/anonymous, you just need to stop collecting points after ask limit!) 

the only main rule is that in order for it to count for points, it has to be off of anonymous! so with that, have fun!!

Keep reading

[ccfamine-blog]

ღseeing red

[ccfamine-blog]

ccminhyun:

he’s grown to hate moving from one location to another as a member of miracle era. there’s never a peaceful moment when they’re out and about as a group, bunch of overly excited fans waiting for them at every turn. it’s especially dangerous for daehwi, who’s not only physically vulnerable due to the human body he’s taken but also has to control his powers at all times. this is why minhyun tries his best to keep an eye out for him whenever they venture into a big crowd. this time, somehow, daehwi gets ahead with the manager while minhyun is stuck behind. he can’t even see the others struggling to walk behind him, nor can he see clearly in front.

it’s his intuition that warns him that something’s off. a shift in the atmosphere, a suspicious female shoving people around dressed in the most ridiculous attire. well, it’s not exactly ridiculous, but it is in broad daylight and outside of a cosplayer gathering. minhyun only sees her back but it’s enough to make the connection: she’s a hero, and she seems to be going after daehwi.

he doesn’t see her weapon, which must still be concealed, but minhyun picks up his pace, trying to push his way through the crowd. “daehwi?” he calls out, unable to see the top of his member’s head from where he stands, but following the back of the girl’s.

and then time freezes as he’s finally close enough to tower over the scene (he’s quite tall among a sea of young high school girls), but too far to be able to do anything to stop it. he doesn’t witness the stabbing, at least he’s too far to realize what it is until droplets of blood come out of daehwi’s mouth. “daehwi!” it’s like everyone stopped moving around him and all he can see is the younger male, face contorted with pain, calling out for him. he thinks the girl must have lost her damn mind if she thinks for even a second that he’ll let daehwi die on his watch. “what the hell did you do?!” he shouts at the other hero, who promptly vanishes in the crowd not to be seen again. in any other situation, minhyun would run after her, but there’s no time.

their manager helps daehwi walk towards the van and minhyun rushes after, catching up with them just in time to assist in holding the boy up and get him safely inside. the manager is already on his phone yelling something about getting another van for the rest of the group. there’s no time to waste and they both know it, however, minhyun doesn’t want daehwi to know how dire the situation is. he sits next to him, with famine’s head resting on his lap as bloody hands apply pressure onto his wound trying to keep it from bleeding. “i-it’s okay,” he says, voice shaky but soft as he tries his best to smile.“ you’re okay. just talk to me.”

tw: blood, obv

his fingers bleed too, where they’ve caught the edge of the blade, trying to pull it out because it’s the only thing that makes sense. he looks up, eyes wide with fear and pain and utter disbelief (it would never have been this easy if he weren’t trapped in this small human form), meeting her cold, sinister gaze. something akin to smirk curls the corner of her mouth, like parchment paper under white hot flames, and she twists her wrist, the blade turning with it, an inescapable drill in the perfectly manicured hands of a spiteful hero with murder on her mind. it hurts, the tearing of his human insides, and something inside of him tenses in response, the slightest bit of scarlet pooling in his mouth and dribbling over his bottom lip.

he’s tasted blood before, but it’s different when it’s his own, when it’s his own leaving his body in more than one place. 

she’s got a firm hand on his shoulder, the one that isn’t holding her dagger, leveraging him against his demise, a carefully calculated guarantee of his death. his own fingers, painted red, weaken, like the rest of him. he can’t fight her. he’s weak. when did he become so weak? memories of tearing potential enemies to pieces and picking bits of their corpses from between his teeth with his tongue bubble to the surface. he is far from the fearsome beast he once was.

the excitable rumblings of the crowd pulsing around them are muffled underneath the woosh of his own blood in his ears, the rapid thumping of his heart. minhyun calls his name, nearer this time, and the hero starts, quickly sizing up the potential threat and realizing the odds are no longer in her favor. she wrenches the blade from him unceremoniously, which smarts more than it had going in and sends another pulse of red out from between his lips.

this can’t be happening. he’s so sure that this can’t be happening that it almost feels like a dream, even as his legs buckle and he willingly collapses against the supportive frame of their manager, who is already leading him back toward the waiting van. disembodied hands grab at his clothing, most of them unaware of the magical reality of it all, security guards working frantically, and even violently in some cases, to clear a path for the members to get to safety. it’s a blur, noisy and colorless until he’s safe behind the sliding doors and tinted windows of the van, his head propped in minhyun’s lap.

he’s aware of a few things then: he’s aware of the ringing in his ears that is lingering screams of fans and the desperate pounding of his heart trying to move blood through his body to the spot it keeps escaping from; he’s aware of the fabric of minhyun’s trousers against the back of his neck as the van’s engine rumbles to life and carries them away from the scene as fast as it possibly can; he’s aware of his own hands on his wound, where they’d instinctively gravitated when she pulled the knife from his gut, of the warm stickiness coating his fingers, of minhyun’s hand on his own, strong and calloused and comforting.

he cranes his neck, steals a vague glimpse of the mess, sees far too much red. he’s cold, he realizes then, despite the heat hanging in the autumn air outside. beads of sweat dot his forehead, mat freshly trimmed fringe. he can still taste his own blood on his tongue. 

“hyung,” he utters, breaths shallow, his eyes bright with fear, “it hurts.”

“i-it’s okay. you’re okay. just talk to me.”

minhyun’s smiling, which makes famine think, through the exhausted, delirious state he’s in, that it must be okay, just as minhyun says, even if he doesn’t feel okay at all.

“the photoshoot...she ruined it...and my sweater...hyung,” he says again, pulling his gaze from where he’d started watching the gentle, rhythmic whir of colors pass across the window, something that seemed to be making his eyelids heavier, to look back up at minhyun, his next blink ominously slow, “i don’t feel well.”

[idaehwi]

a nervous boy 😓

[magixbooks]

Campaign ||

[ccfamine-blog]

ccxmyung:

The newest line of cosmetics was left in Myungsoo’s charge. As assistant VP of marketing, he had some pull apparently with how the promotions and the advertising was going to go. He hadn’t gone to school for this type of work, so he was very confused as to what he would do, but he went about it in the logical way. An idol group would be the best idea, so he had reached to Defy Entertainment and offered them the cosmetics campaign. It would be a boost for him and the idol group and the hefty paychecks would be beneficial to the group as well. 

However, when he was told that M:EA would be the group to undertake the campaign, Myungsoo had agreed to that but put in the request that he meet one of the members face to face. It wasn’t so much that he would hypnotize them, it was more so the fact that Myungsoo could reassure himself that it was the right decision. Of course, he would end up meeting with the face of the group, the one who would end at the center of the campaign. There would be food, so that he could discuss the plan. It didn’t occur to him how strange it would be, two men meeting in private. 

It would be easier to meet at his abode, in Busan. He had an apartment in Seoul and in Busan. Both apartments were a level of luxury unseen to normal people. He himself wasn’t really used to it yet but he showed no discomfort. He wanted money, he got money. He nodded as the boy introduced himself. “Please do come in. It’s an absolute delight to meet you, Daehwi,” he said. He closed the door once the other had stepped in. “Please don’t call me chajangnim. Myungsoo will be fine.” he added. 

“Make yourself comfortable.”

The interior of the apartment was just as impressive as its exterior, all expensive furniture and sleek lines, polished surfaces and rich upholstery, clean and impeccable as if it were being showed to be sold and not lived in regularly by a corporate heir, no doubt the result of the presence of hired staff. Famine wondered if this human--hero, he realized after walking past Myungsoo and through a strong, fragrant cloud of magic--had hired a chef to prepare the food he could already smell from here. The luxury of it all brought Famine back to memories of ancient civilizations, the ones in charge who’d draped him in garlands and beauties and riches to keep his hunger at bay. It took all he had not to gleefully skip his way into the heart of the apartment.

It was a relief to drop the title, it meant he wouldn’t have to think about it every time he addressed him, wouldn’t have to pretend to submit to humans’ strange obsessive notions with hierarchies, as if he weren’t a god himself. “Myungsoo-ssi,” he tested the name on his tongue, turning over his shoulder from where he’d planted a hand against one of the expansive windows overlooking the city (he’d been invited to make himself comfortable, which meant, to him, that he could treat this place as if it were his own), “You have a very nice home. It’s so clean. Do you even live here?”

It was only after another beat of staring out at the city and reminiscing over what landscapes used to look like and how they’d sprouted tall and shining from the ground like a human-grown garden of sharp, pointed flowers, that he recalled why he was here (Once, he peered through Greek columns and from the heights of Mayan pyramids, over lands that belonged to him, whether they knew it or not. Now he watched from sleek highrises and colorfully lit stages, stadiums and cities still under his fingertips, humans still tossing metaphorical rose petals across the ground he walked on). He turned completely from the sparkling view, a charming, bright smile splitting his face.

“Maybe someday hyungs and I can live in a place like this. With Ringo’s help of course, cha-” a deliberate mistake; humans had always been creatures of ego after all. He had to alter his habits, now that he was in a body that charmed them instead of the one that frightened them into giving him what he wanted, “Myungsoo-ssi.”

[ccfamine-blog]

ღseeing red

@ccminhyun

It’s a day like any other. They’re a rookie group between comebacks with few activities and even fewer excursions. But their fanbase is intimidating, overwhelming, thanks to Kenta’s magically inherent luck and Daehwi’s own abilities driving them nearly rabid at every fansign (he’s better at diluting it now, at keeping it under control, to prevent fights or fainting or both). They have to get from Point A to Point B, from the salon to their photoshoot location. 

The good news is that they’re all photo ready for the short, yet harrowing, distance between the salon’s back door to the group’s waiting van. The bad news is that, somehow, their location has been leaked, and by the time every curl, wave, clip is in place, there’s a small mob growing behind the shop, blocking the cargo entrance and calling for the biggest security they can find.

Daehwi is anxious. He remembers all too well their return from a destination shoot, the way the fans had pushed over barriers at the airport and overwhelmed the unsuspecting staff. He’d only sprained an ankle, but it’s enough to keep him wary of these frenzied crowds when they’re not prepared for them. But the show must go on, and if they sit inside the salon for too long, it’s not too far-fetched that some of their fans might start breaking down the windows.

They seem to forget, in that moment, that there are hero games afoot. Perhaps they should’ve heeded Eli Moon’s words more carefully.

They ferry them out in a neat column, security flanking them, pushing eager fans back, taking oversized camera lenses to the face. The meaty arm guiding him out by the shoulders is comforting until the weight of it slips from him, leaving him vulnerable in the pulsing, feverish crowd.

“Hyung-” he whirls around, not sure which way is the right way, because as the crowd surges in, the van disappears from view, as do the black shirts of security or any familiar faces from the staff or the group. Don’t panic, he reminds himself, panicking makes it worse, they don’t want to hurt you, they can’t hurt you, they’re just humans-

“You’re mine, card,” she hisses, materializing inches in front of him as if out of nowhere, her garb soft pink with yellow accents, like a sunrise, or a rose garden-

Something pinches in his gut, and when he looks down, all he sees is red, staining his sweater, the cuff of her hero garb, the hilt of her blade. His own fingers curl around it, as if to pull the intrusive object out of his very human flesh, but she’s strong, so strong, and it’s already so much blood-

“Hyung!” he hears himself shouting before he realizes it’s him doing the shouting, catching a glimpse of Minhyun’s head behind her, feet away, too far away, towering over the crowd, “Help-”

[ccyongguk-blog]

an adequate attempt ;;

@ccfamine

yongguk’s not quite sure what to make of the whole situation. 

the ELI MOON incident was interesting enough, the free use of his own magic to shape his face back into a more familiar setting, akin to the photo yongguk had seen once while surfing the internet on mundane human activities. ( perhaps not so mundane now ) and then, the concepts he preached were a whole other level of interesting.

the governing body is planning something. as much as he’d like to brush it off and say it doesn’t bother him much ( and it really doesn’t if he’s being honest, whatever happens happens ) he finds himself a little curious too. what do they plan to do with the lot of kizna? why order so many? what is the final objective? is it in the best interest of all — or will suffering fall upon the cards once again? he finds himself thinking of kenta and the fellow cards he’s come to befriend and falters in his plan to not do a thing.

speaking of kenta — he stares across the room at a familiar face. he’d recognized famine almost immediately as he walked into the dining room at the time specified and yet at first made no move to approach him. he didn’t know the other card too well — sure he was a m.ea member and they ran in similar circles ( cough kenta cough ) but he wouldn’t say they were… friends.

but in a room full of foreign and unapproachable faces, he decides to take the leap. once dinner wraps up with heavy minds, and the room begins to empty out almost immediately, yongguk silently treks up beside the other card, and exchanges ( what he hopes was ) a friendly gaze. “famine.” his voice is a little hoarse due to him not having spoken in a while. “surprised to see you here.”

an adequate start. he applauds his own efforts.

[ccfamine-blog]

he hadn’t planned on going at first, though that ‘at first’ was short-lived after his own circumstances had settled in. he hadn’t expected to be chased down by heroes at all since bonding with dongho, and yet, there he was, panting, sweating through his school uniform, fleeing not from over-zealous fans but from someone in blue and red and a hideous pair of old combat boots.

kenta tells him about the coin and he tells kenta about his and they agree that they should go together, if only to see what the coincidence is, because what are the odds that they should receive something so cryptic, so mysterious, so specific, so simultaneously?

he recognizes auras and energies better than he recognizes faces, cards he’s likely encountered over his centuries of existence and been separated by the same time itself that once brought them together. he’s wary of being recognized at an event like this, especially without any security flanking them, or even their manager, because surely not all of their fans are just human, but kenta assures him it’ll be fine, their heroes will be able to feel if anything goes awry.

famine’s not sure if he believes him, but he decides it doesn’t matter after he sees the spread of food designated for them, endless and colorful and all (as far as he knows) edible (edible here meaning something regularly consumed by humans, and therefore acceptably consumed by himself). he loses lucky in his haste to pile a plate high with a second course (crowds make him anxious and, consequently, hungry), and lets the events of the day replay in his mind. kizna, eli moon, the governing body, chobotics...none of it makes any actual sense, and he has no intention of joining an organization that might jeopardize the life he’s happily living among the humans now, but for now it plays in the back of his mind like a broken record nonetheless.

the other guests seem to grow tired of eating, something famine forgets happens to other people, but he stays where he is, knowing full well only ramen packets and cardboard-flavored protein bars await him at the dorm.

yongguk, someone he only recognizes from time spent scrolling absentmindedly through lucky’s social media profiles, approaches, looking awkward and uneasy, and famine can’t help but wonder if he’s supposed to feel the same (he doesn’t. the food is delicious and the gossip is rife. what’s there to be uneasy about?)

“surprised?” he utters through cheeks chipmunk-full of something with strawberry filling and something else with bits of carrots in it, scowling at the familiar face, as if he’s said something utterly nonsensical or, perhaps, even suspicious, “why would you be surprised?”

[idaehwi]

when you’re cute without trying 💕

[ccfamine-blog]

ღmarshmallow

[ccfamine-blog]

cclucky:

with brows slightly furrowed, kenta is focused – or as focused as he can be at  any given point; this is probably a job better left to the stylists, who are admittedly better at matching colours and picking the right palettes for the boys – but the miracle boys aren’t scheduled for anything official today, and kenta agreed to practice with daehwi while they wait for their ride to the studio later. kenta isn’t exactly an artist, but when it comes to the technical aspect of applying makeup, he isn’t really able to mess up that badly. on days when kenta is left to do his own eye makeup, the stylists will say they envy him because he can procure a near-perfect flick of eyeliner out of nowhere ( to which he’ll usually quip “guess i’m just lucky!”, followed by collective groaning from his groupmates and stylists alike. ) 

in any case – he is careful. kenta might be lucky, but he knows daehwi isn’t always the best at sitting still. he purses his lips slightly, swiping a light amount of pink on daehwi’s eyelids. after a moment, he leans back to inspect his work. the verdict: daehwi he looks appropriately soft and ridiculously adorable, and kenta is satisfied. 

“ah, so ‘crush’ really was the right colour. called it,” he’s talking to himself more than daehwi, congratulating himself, more or less. 

he pauses for a second to let the other card eat another marshmallow, then hums a bit as he starts working on his eyeliner. “oh, that stuff?” he briefly glances at the bottle. “uhh.. oh! it’s colour correcting concealer. it’s the green , right? – that one is good if you have a lot of red around your nose and stuff, i think.. but you don’t have to worry about that, your skin-tone is already pretty even." 

though he’s been chastised before for being too honest – some people don’t take compliments well – for kenta, layering praises onto his friends comes naturally. this is especially true when it comes to the people most important to him, and people who maybe need to hear it more than others, whether they realize it or not.

so his answer to daehwi’s next question comes easily, kenta pausing his brush’s movement again only to offer him a small smile. "of course you are! you don’t even need all this, honestly,” he pulls the eyeliner pencil away, picking up a compact for blush instead. he dusts the light powder on daehwi’s cheekbones, and adds , somewhat matter-of-factly: “you have that fresh look… what’s the term? oh yeah, you’re a flower boy. it’s a big reason why the fans – why everyone loves you so much.”

he sets the bottle down, before being too overwhelmed by the urge to uncap the bottle and smell the product, which would only lead to the temptation to taste it. why would they make it that shade of green, the same green as mint chip ice cream or green tea pocky, if you’re not supposed to eat it, he wants to ask. but he doesn’t, having long since given up on trying to understand the criteria of edibility humans have in place.

he lets kenta’s words sink in, light and honest and encouraging. he sniffs, pursing full lips in an attempt to mask the shift in his mood. he may be in the body of a child, but he is not so naive. and he’s seen the way their leader looks at him when he thinks no one is paying attention.

“they only like me because of this face.”

he pulls his gaze back down to the pile, to distract himself, plucking from it a pink tube of shiny lip tint, the one he knows smells like cherries and cream. 

but he can’t let it go, that nagging feeling at the back of his mind. he knows he can trust lucky, their bond as the only cards in the group strong, spanning centuries of existence instead of the decade and a half of their human bodies.

“minhyun hyung doesn’t love me,” he declares suddenly after picking up on the emphasis in kenta’s voice.

“he hates me, doesn’t he” it’s not a question, but a statement of fact, a verbal confirmation of what’s otherwise gone unsaid between the five of them. “because i stole this face.”

he unscrews the tube of lip gloss, bringing it to his nose for a whiff of the comforting scent, then holds it out for kenta to take, a wordless demand for it to be added to the look in progress.

“i’m not sorry, you know,” he lies, defensively, petulantly, his expression wavering, as if he’s justifying himself to minhyun right then and there, and not poor lucky, caught in the middle of it all.  “it was his fault. he shouldn’t have been wandering around on his own.”

[magixbooks]

Campaign ||

[ccfamine-blog]

ccxmyung:

@ccfamine

In the new timeline, Myungsoo was the heir to one of the biggest cosmetic brands in Korea and Japan. He had still not adjusted to the fact that he was rich and more importantly that he had enough power to make suggestions. After doing the research, he found that the cosmetic brand that he was the heir to was called Ringo Cosmetics, and that his mother was the initial mastermind. He was fascinated by it.How could someone like him become the heir in this new timeline? He was surprised and yet he loved it. Apparently the brand was popular enough to draw attentions from the public, and yet unpopular to draw in large crowds but Myungsoo had some ideas. 

Myungsoo was expecting someone from an idol group called M:EA. Apparently from what he managed to figure out, M:EA was an boy band. He wasn’t sure on whether they would be the ideal match for the brand, but he would see. Myungsoo was eager to get involved in his new life as though he was meant to be living this life. He had no idea what he was supposed to be like in this timeline, so he’d just act like himself. 

When he heard the knock on his apartment door, he put on a smile and opened the door. “Hi, there!” he exclaimed, voice completely monotone. 

The company had called him in as soon as the opportunity arose. It’d been a straightforward briefing, a simple explaining of the endorsement deal hanging in the air as a possibility for M.Ea. It would undoubtedly jump start their nascent career as a group and boost album and merchandise sales, not to mention the hefty paycheck for each member that would follow should the cosmetics campaign be successful.

But Ringo’s CEO had left the company’s newest line of cosmetics in the hands of his son, who had more or less agreed to the deal, but only on the condition that he meet one of the members face to face. You are the face of M.Ea after all, the Defy executives had reminded him, it would make the most sense that we send you. Famine held no qualms with the arrangement whatsoever; there would be a free meal, and his own naivety about the human world meant he was clueless to the negative implications such a meeting might have on his career should the wrong person find out.

It was easiest for the meeting to happen on private property, away from overzealous fans and aggressive paparazzi. So they opted for the heir’s own apartment, which made Daehwi’s eyes glitter when the door opened. It was reminiscent of palace chambers, of ancient shrines they used to build for the sacrifices they dedicated to him. It took all he had not to bound out through the door like an excitable puppy when it opened. 

He bowed politely, as he knew was proper, his manager reminding him over his shoulder that he’d be picked up promptly at 8 o’clock before disappearing down the hall toward the elevators.

“Hello, I’m M.Ea’s representative Lee Daehwi, thank you for meeting me, Chajangnim!”

[ccseongwoo]

a look into war ong seongwoos’s, instagram @iamseongwoo               ––––– if he had one and wasn’t terrible at technology (… one day).

he doesn’t bother putting his instagram on private despite posting pictures with the m.ea members ( he likes that he gets more followers thanks to that ). his ig aesthetic is mostly cold, dark colours and he likes to go for a more ‘grunge’ kind of feel. also enjoys posting pictures of himself because he thinks he’s pretty good looking as well as pictures of his friends ! + probably uses a lot of emojis in his captions ie; 😎 😪  👀

featuring: @ccxjoy, @cclucky. @ccniel, @ccjinyoung, @ccfamine, @ccjueun

[ccseonho-blog]

yoo seonho’s private instagram 

— ft. @ccminhyun, @cclucky, @cctaehyung, @ccguanlin, @ccxjoy, and @ccfamine.

[epikcry]

park wink is shaking!

[ccfamine-blog]

ღcheer up baby

@ccseonho

he wasn’t oblivious to it, to the comments on their videos, to the cruel tweets hashtagged with their names. he was there for the petition that circulated to have seonho removed from the group, he was there for the threats of a black ocean at their next live appearance. even at school, they were relentless with notes on his desk and whispers behind his back. i want to tell them to stop, he’d complained to his manager, who’d promptly threatened to end his internet access should he even try. but he couldn’t, for the life of him, decipher why their own fans would treat their youngest member so cruelly.

he couldn’t tell them to stop, not with words pasted on their social media pages. but he could do his best to convey the message by other means, by showing how much he cared for seonho, by reminding the fans that they weren’t whole as anything but five.

he wasn’t oblivious to it, and he certainly didn’t miss the way seonho’s face had darkened over the past hour as he scrolled through his phone. daehwi stole a glance over his shoulder when his own comment from across the room to seonho about the day’s recording went unanswered, his own smile faltering at the first few words he glimpsed. how long had seonho been sifting through thousands of characters of negativity? how deep in the pit of his stomach had his heart sunk? the very thought of it made daehwi sick to his stomach, a rare sensation for the famine card. something had to be done.

“c’mere,” he finally chimed in, putting the warm smile back on his face and scrambling to his feet, tugging the hero behind him as he shuffled, on socked feet, out of their shared bedroom and toward the living room, where he knew a colorful pile of unopened fan gifts awaited, “let’s open presents.”

[ccfamine-blog]

ur the famine but i'm so full whenever i see u

“ah, you must be a fan. thank you for supporting me! please look forward to m.ea’s comeback~”