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obligatory appearances.

tencs‌:

@cstaeyong

it’s not even december yet and the elders are already breaking out their expensive liquor and polite masks in the name of christmas parties. he’s grown up in this life and he still doesn’t get it; no one here actually likes each other. it’s just a chance for everyone to flex on each other, to show off what expensive things they can afford or what new political allies they have wooed or positions they have won. it’s a charade, a well-scripted drama that ten’s been living since he was old enough to be trusted to speak by himself in public. and he can play his part well enough, but it’s so damn boring.

thank god there’s at least some youths his age who are forced to these same events.

his first flute of champagne is downed before he even has a chance to taste the flavor, gulped down in a manner that would make his father frown and his mild-mannered mother pull him aside for a reminder of his public manners. he doesn’t care. he’d drop the crystal glass on the floor and watch it shatter if he didn’t still have some respect left for his father and the nation he and his family supposed to represent at any public gathering. ten leaves it on someone else’s table instead. the hired help are paid to clean up after the social elite anyways, may as well make them earn their wages. he’s swiping a second drink off a serving tray as he scans the crowd. there’s familiar faces he expects to see, the ones who manage to make these parties a little less mundane.

taeyong.

ten zeroes in on the other young man, the fun twin as he likes to think of him, and lets a lazy grin slide across his face. target acquired. he homes in, a grace in his movement that comes from years of his mother’s careful attention to public appearance.

“frown more, someone might think you’re actually happy to be here.” the joke comes easily to ten’s lips, somewhere between casual familiarity of several forced meetings and his own reckless carelessness. “let me guess, you’re three drinks in and already thinking about leaving despite only being here for half an hour. i’m right, you don’t have to answer.”

he hates these parties. he hates everything about the parties. from the rich pretentious assholes who gave birth to the rich pretentious asshole juniors who he grew up alongside, to the twelve foot champagne tower, to the view overlooking the city that’s looming and imposing enough to belong to some powerful comic book supervillain, he hates every single thing about these excessive, indulgent parties.

he’s been rubbing elbows with the elite since he was sharing a womb with his brother, the family’s own prodigy of pretentiousness, and there hasn’t been a single moment where he hasn’t felt like a lap dog in a suit, like a toy poodle in a tuxedo: no, i don’t know how the numbers on the samsung stocks are, no i don’t know what the prospects are on foreign steel or domestic tin, no i’m not my capitalist-teeny-bopper twin brother so i can’t tell you whether incheon will part with their branch if the offer is high enough but i can tell you that you talk in a flat, nasally b minor and it makes me want to fling myself out of this twenty-story window so if you’ll excuse me-

he’s lost count of how many conversations he’s ‘excused himself’ from, and he can’t help but wonder how many more it’ll take before his family finally ‘excuses him’ from these horrible parties altogether instead of dragging him along in some senseless, torturous ritual of reputation.

somehow, when he locks himself in a corner of the room not otherwise occupied by the smell of gio armani and cigar smoke, he manages to appear physically nonchalant, outside of the visible tenseness making permanent home in the muscles of his shoulders and upper back. he pulls his brooding gaze from the horizon on the other side of floor-to-ceiling plexiglass, just beyond razor sharp skyscrapers, and glances down at the fresh glass of champagne in his hand, vaguely hopes it’s poisoned, and tips it to his lips with every intention of downing the entire glass like a shot of spring break tequila-

frown more, someone might think you’re actually happy to be here.

“ten,” he greets simply, casually, with a subtle change in his expression that says he’s happy to see the familiar face but refuses to look happy in case the other male’s facetious prediction might actually come to fruition.

“three and a half,” he corrects with a wry smirk, lifting his glass toward ten in a salutation before finishing what he’d begun and effortlessly tossing the bubbly down the back of his throat.

“what are you still doing here?” he gestures at ten with his empty glass, his free hand tucked away in the safety of a silk trouser pocket, “shouldn’t you off be ruining someone’s marriage or something?”

#tencs #//p:obligatory appearances

// sparks, notes

@seolhyuncs

“Don’t forget your orchestral critiques are due by next Friday. Actually listen to the MP3s online before you do them, I’ll know if you didn’t, Professor Bin will know if you didn’t, and your grade will suffer if you don’t; there’s no Sparks-Noteing Borodin.”

He watched the small class gather their things, rummage through bags, notes, papers, the last few minutes of their scheduled session dwindling rapidly. They looked as tired as he felt, which he both sympathized with a resented: the class was primarily composed of undergrad underclassmen who had yet to feel the sweet sting of graduate school exhaustion.

“And review our discussion from Tuesday about the differences between period instruments and modern instruments. Professor Bin will expect it to show up in your comparison critiques, which means you should expect it to be on the next pop quiz,” There were a few murmurs scattered throughout the room at that, all landing somewhere on the spectrum between exasperated groans and grateful sighs, before he finally officially dismissed him with a, “Have a good weekend.”

He shut his own laptop and unplugged it from the room’s projector set up, then glimpsed a note penned in red, in his own handwriting, on a post-it stuck to the top of his papers designated for his class, a reminder he’d left for himself earlier that day while going through the students’ most recent blog comments.

“Kim Seolhyun,” he called casually, albeit unreadably, into the room as bodies began to file out of it, a few heads turning and eyebrows raising curiously at the singling out, “A quick word, please.”

#//p:sparks notes

🐕 🍻 🌙 💪

🐕 [ pets ] // he’s surprisingly good with animals, in spite of having grown up in a household where even goldfish were forbidden for being ‘unhygienic.’ he and new pets tend to take a while to warm up to each other, due to a mutual apprehension, but he is fond of them, and tends to talk to them with the same amount of respect and dry sarcasm he reserves for people he’s closer to. he’s definitely more of a cat person than a dog person, and currently shares his apartment with one named lottie, a wily abyssinian mix he adopted from a shelter about two years into his undergrad career.

🍻 [ in a bar/drunk ] // he’s definitely a social drinker. he doesn’t keep a lot of alcohol in his apartment as it tends to interfere with his creative process, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t indulge. between the clubs and bars he plays with la.v and the more formal social events he grudgingly attends alongside his family, he drinks about the expected amount for a young man his age, if not more. considering he had his first drink when he was fifteen, it takes a significant amount to get him truly inebriated. more alcohol in his system means an increased likelihood that his guard comes down and his natural tendencies toward physical affection become more obvious. he’s noticeably less judgmental but just as noticeably more vocal about his thoughts and opinions. if among the right company, his volume naturally increases and his smile makes frequent appearances.

🌙 [ at nighttime ] // like most artists, he is firm in his belief of the unofficial “no art before noon” law, which does prove difficult now that he is a teaching assistant. it’s a lot harder to skip class and sleep in when, half the time, he’s the one running the class. consequently, he can be even crankier than normal during morning classes or meetings, because he was, most likely, up until three or four the night (morning) before. most of his best work is penned at night, long after the sun has gone down and the rest of the world has fallen asleep, when he thrives best.

💪 [ at the gym ] // he doesn’t spend much time at the gym: between his job as a teaching assistant and the active pursuit of his masters degree, school takes up most of his time, and the rest of his time is usually spent on the band. he’s also abhors gym culture and the ‘meathead’ types it attracts. if he does find himself at the gym, if only to look better in tailored suits than his brother does, he usually does a quick one hour strength workout with earbuds in, pointedly avoiding contact with anyone else that may be there.

#tencs #//m #//m:emojihc #//hc

cityscapekrp

As a welcome to all of our members, we’re reblogging our first meme! Since everyone is new and getting to know each others’ muses, we’re starting out with a headcanon meme! This can be answered through either a solo or drabble through your muse’s perspective or as an out of character commentary about their life and experiences. And be sure to remember roleplay karma; the more memes you send out, the more you’re likely to receive!

Send one of the following for a headcanon about my muse…

🎄 at christmastime

🌵 being stranded in the desert

🌲 out in nature

🌴 going on vacation

🍀 lucking out

👗 going shopping

🍂 going to the park

🌙 at nighttime

🌞 dealing with a heatwave

❄️ in a blizzard

☔️ caught in the rain