luminescent;

you want the world nothing less all the glam and the press, only givng you the best to use---

[luciavioleta]

“Too bad that’s not what I do,” she drawled, her fingers tapping impatiently on the counter. “I’ve just been around you for too long.” She’d been stuck with Damien since she was a little girl, though if she was being truly honest, she wouldn’t want to get rid of him if given the option. The products of washed up dreams and failures to live vicariously through their children, Lisette and Damien had all but broken away from the families and created a makeshift one of their own. “True,” was all she had to say, a snort escaping her when her friend directed his icy gaze towards the stranger at their table. It was strange, she supposed, that most of the people that streamed in and out of their apartment were wholly unfamiliar—ghosts included. “Poor blondie, he looks crushed. Should’ve bet on how long this one was gonna stay,” she commented with a hint of a smirk, low enough for only Damien to hear. “Maybe I would’ve won something. I mean, he lasted the fucking morning.”

[damiensxng-blog]

"Probably,” he said, not bothering to look at the dejected blonde shuffling out of his room, like he’d been punched in the gut. He did make this clear that this was a one time thing, though. It wasn’t his fault that the boy got attached. “I mean even he defied my expectations. I’d guess you’d get my coffee as always. Like, the boss’ good stash that he imports from who knows where.” It was a dramatic ploy, full of overstatements and grand gestures, and he knew it. Doesn’t mean he won’t try and pick the lock to the shelf again. To be honest, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Lisette, she’d been the one rock that stuck through the sea of bullshit that was his irritating life. He’d never say it, of course; he was too proud and as stubborn as a mule. Looking back to the blonde who was apparently still there, mouthing “call me”, prompting him to roll his eyes. “He really won’t go away,” he said, muttering, “Could you get some of your ghost friends to like, give him a message? Horror movie style?”

[damiensxng-blog]

Background Questions: Character Development Sheet #2

WHO ARE/WERE THEIR PARENTS: His parents are Song Yu-hee and Song Nam-soon.

DID THEY LIVE WITH THEIR PARENTS? IF NOT, WHO WERE THE PEOPLE WHO RAISED THEM? DESCRIBE THOSE PEOPLE: Damien lived with his parents, unfortunately.

WHAT DID THEIR PARENT OR GUARDIAN DO FOR A LIVING?: His mother worked as a nurse in the local hospital, while his father was a pencil pusher in a corporate office in the city.

DID THEY GET ALONG WITH THEIR PARENT(S)/GUARDIANS(?): No. He has no contact with them whatsoever as of the present too.

SIBLING(S): Jaime Lee Song, and Grant Everett Song.

DID THEY GET ALONG WITH THEIR SIBLING(S)?: Civility was one of the fundamental aspects of his relationship with his siblings, but quickly devolved into trash talk and punches once they were riled up. This was after he made his debut, of course.

ETHNICITY: Korean

WHAT LANGUAGE(S) DID THEY GROW UP SPEAKING?: He grew up speaking Korean at home, but outside was a mix of muttered Korean and English.

RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR FAMILY: As far as anyone other than Damien’s concerned, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family.

DESCRIBE THEIR PARENT(S)/GUARDIAN (S) OPINION OF THEM: Loud. Vain. Stubborn. And those three have no expletives. They think he’ll fall on his ass and come crawling back to them soon, which is not very likely.

DO THEY KEEP IN TOUCH WITH THEIR FAMILY MEMBERS?: No. Ever since he stormed out of his home, he has no contact with them whatsoever.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WERE THEY BORN INTO?: Fairly upper-middle or middle class. He’d lived decently, with a few gifts here and there.

WHAT IS THE NAME OF THEIR HOMETOWN?: Bunting. But it’ll always be Shithole, Illinos to him.

WHAT TYPE OF HOME DID THEY LIVE IN?: He lived in a decently large townhouse fit for five people.

[taeyeonmin-blog]

baby, i’m a blur • tae & damien

[taeyeonmin-blog]

“Your roommate,” he retorted mockingly, deliberately blowing smoke rings in the guy’s direction, a cheeky smile playing at his lips. “is way too fucking anal for her own good. Who doesn’t love a bit of lung cancer?” Granted, his lungs were in a considerably healthy condition for someone who smoked like a chimney, but Taeyeon wasn’t invincible. Somewhere off in an abandoned corner of his mind, there ligered an unspoken thought that he would probably die early, crossing the fine ledge between life and danger that he so loved to toy with. But like all of his thoughts concerning anything long-term, it never surfaced from the swirly waves of his subconscious.

There was a passing remark about a father and memories. He laughed again. “Oh my God, who the fuck gives a shit?” he exclaimed, his tone inappropriately delighted for unknown reasons. Fathers! Who even had the headspace to think about them in a club? What kind of a broody, boring jackass mulled over their daddy issues at a place like this? At the mention of alcohol, however, Tae’s eyes lit up. “About damn time.” Flicking the ash off his cigarette into a tray, he stood up eagerly, swaying a little. “C'mon, man. I gotta wash down all that acid.” (Which, by the way, was the worst idea in the history of worst ideas. Then again, this was Taeyeon.)

[damiensxng-blog]

“You utter ass,” he coughed out, trying to disperse the annoying smoke rings coming his way, “Let’s see if I buy you a drink after that.” When the irritation at the back of his mind both from the insults directed at his beloved roomie and his horrible father, started to set in,  he knew that it really was time to get blackout drunk and make bad choices in life. Standing up and rolling his eyes at the man, he pushed through the dance floor, eager to get trashed and wake up somewhere that wasn’t here. It was hell, walking through the sea of people, with grabby hands and bodies pressed together, but he’d knew he’d have to brave it before reaching the promised land.

And there they were, in front of an endless sea of booze, with some of the cutest bartenders he’s ever seen. Looking the shelf up and down for something that would make him have anterograde amnesia, he settled for a classic: a bottle of tequila, straight up. He hollered the order to the bartender, a biblical acquaintance, who raised an eyebrow as he slid over the bottle to him, probably thinking of the poor sap that’d have to clean him off the floor. “Now,” he said, taking a swig of the bottle, “Are you going to partake of my dubiously owed gains, or are you just going to stand there like my lethargic-ass aunt?”

[damiensxng-blog]

so ive been having a really bad internet sitch in my house im sorry but im ready to RP YEAH hmu lmao

[damiensxng-blog]

INSTAGRAM ANOTHER FLAWLESS PIC. -- Nicki Minaj

Vanity, they say, is just another of Damien’s great flaws. His cathartic nature, the desire to be the best, his selfie per minute average, it was all shameful, they said. He would’ve believed that long ago, but not now. Not anymore. 

He wanted to disappear, the fade from their memories so they could hurt him no longer. But when that didn’t work, when it just got worse, he forced himself out of the shell that he built for himself, resolving never to step into the shadows again. 

Pride may be his capital sin, one that he’s damned for, but all he knows is that he’ll never let himself walk back into the shadows and let himself be that meek little boy again. He was born to be a shining success, and like it or not, he was here to stay.

[robinflyaway-deactivated2015073]

“Well, thank you for gracing this establishment with your presence,” Robin says dramatically, placing the drink before him as if it were filled with liquid gold. He shrugs, resting his chin in his hand. “Not a whole lot. There’s been a couple fights, some bad karaoke, a shitton of PDA…,” he watches as the kid waves flirtatiously, giving his brows a wiggle when he turns back. “It’s still early, though. I could change up the music a bit, if you wanna go and work your magic.”

[damiensxng-blog]

Quickly grabbing the drink and downing it in one go, he signaled for another glass, eager to get his liver to kick the bucket. “If I work my magic,” he responded, a tinge of red slightly working its way to his ears “You don’t need to change the music, honest. They’ll come to me.” That wasn’t exactly true, of course, but Damien always did have a huge ego, expecting things to naturally come his way. Looking back to the crew of boys now eyeing him, it seemed that it was game time. He turned to the bartender, a small flush in his cheeks present.  "I didn’t get your name, by the way. Would you kindly give it to me,” he said, a bit jokingly, “Or do I have to guess?”

[damiensxng-blog]

“Regrets are illuminations come too late.” ― Joseph Campbell

title:  red carpets and roaring applausecharacters: damien song, parentssetting: evening, damien’s housewarnings: n/a

“You have been granted another Tony nomination for your latest role in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream, how do you feel about that? Do you expect you’ll win?”

“Damien, every designer from Alexander Wang to Zegna is clamoring for you to wear their clothes and walk their runways! Any comment?” 

“There have been rumors that you’re writing a play that’s set to hit Broadway soon? Can you give any confirmations to that?” 

It was exhilarating, walking down the red carpet in couture and sunglasses, the heat of the camera flashes gracing his skin like sunlight, and reporters clamoring for a statement, a word, a meaningful gesture from him. He was where he needed to be, his natural habitat: the center of attention. He was attending the awards ceremony, and here he was, outshining all the glitziest and most glamorous stars on the block.

Looking to his left at the paparazzi and the screaming fans, he saw members of his hometown, pushing against the security, practically demanding he came there and autographed their notebooks, their clothes, their skin, probably. Disdain and smugness washed over him, turning his gaze back to the red carpet and focusing on strutting his stuff as he saw theatrical icons walking the carpet with him. 

The crowd’s screaming grew louder as he walked on, and he turned in annoyance to give them a dirty look through his glasses, only to have the faces of his parents, as cross as ever, look back at him. He glared at them, stopping in his tracks, about to spew acid their way, when they stared kneeling and clutching at his pant leg, practically begging him to forgive them. Their pleas were regretful, hurt, even, condensing into one cacophonous screech.

And then, he woke up.

It was a dream.

A glorious, cathartic, and devilishly divine dream.

And his alarm blew it. Just fucking perfect.

“God damn it,” he muttered to himself, staring dagger at his alarm ringing beside him, “Couldn’t let me have that, can you, huh?”

[damiensxng-blog]

don’t start, darling  || eli & damien

[diabvlical]

The more the guy talked the more the ink spread. The black spread like an infection around more than half of the cup by the time the stranger was done talking. The nerve to want to laugh irked him even more. Then again it wasn’t like he wasn’t at fault to. Someone being late for a deal always pissed him off no matter how good his day had been before. This guy was just a bonus to make his day shitty for the rest of the day and night. 

“I was orphaned by birth with my brother. Foster parents weren’t that great either. The guy was never there and the woman was a mad alcoholic. I almost died multiple times. Burned by her joints and cigarettes. I ran away with my brother but he’s not here anymore either.” As he spoke he kept his voice calm even though he was seething anger. Eli had gotten up to place the cup beside the man on the counter. “Don’t let it burn you.” With that he left, walking out of the door as the cup corroded and crumpled on itself slowly.

[damiensxng-blog]

Was he supposed to feel like absolute shit after hearing that? Probably. Did he feel like shit? Honestly, no. However, he was concerned by the fact that there was suddenly gall ink that corroded the cup, which was by all means intriguing. He’d stared at it a couple of minutes before scribbling a note to the next barista to tell the cashier that he’s gone out for a few minutes. Hopefully, she’d be understanding and maybe not rip him a new one when he gets home.

Taking off his apron and vaulting over the counter and jogging outside to catch up with the supremely angry man, he walked beside him, like he didn’t just offend the man a few moments ago. “You got a shit draw, huh? And shit insults, let me just say that.” he commented, hands inside his pockets and his resting bitchface reasserting itself, “At least your birth family never hated your guts, right? I mean mine were horrible, but you didn’t ask that. How about your powers, huh? Any way you got them? Nuclear spider? Psionic manipulation? Penile insertion? Mine, I found out after beating in the town’s star quarterback’s face and his buddies.”

[damiensxng-blog]

moodboard [2/?]

“friends that slay together, stay together.”

[taeyeonmin-blog]

baby, i’m a blur • tae & damien

[taeyeonmin-blog]

Reaching out a hand—much steadier than he’d expected—, he took out the ever-present pack of cigarettes from his pocket; he pulled one out with his teeth and lit the tip in swift movements, puffing out a trail of smoke. Comedowns felt immensely better with nicotine. Tae sighed, feeling his head sobering up little by little, though there still lingered a hazy drug-induced fog clouding his brain. 

For some reason, Taeyeon’s slightly cross-faded brain found the guy’s remark utterly hilarious. He threw his head back, a loud bark of laughter falling from his lips, nearly dropping his cigarette in the process. “That’s cute,“ he remarked, wrinkling his nose at his fellow sofa occupant in a playful manner. “Poke me if you’re cold again.” The faintest sense of familiarity flickered in a deep corner of his mind as lights flashed over the other’s face; however, he was way too fucking buzzed to mull over it. “You smoke?” he asked abruptly, eyes glinting sideways at the stranger.

[damiensxng-blog]

Eyebrows raised, he quickly shook his head, perfectly content with not ingesting anything that could possibly ruin anything in his vocal tract. Waving his hand to disperse the smoke, he rolled his eyes at the other boy’s comment, perfectly aware that it should be taken in jest, despite what the back of his mind said. “Usually, I’m the one getting poked,” he said playfully, smiling as heavy bass pounded in his ears, “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

Damien was looking back to the bar, past the writhing mess of bodies out grinding on the dance floor, when he heard that particularly distressing question. On a normal day, he’d deliver a cold response, complete with a withering look, but today he’d felt like he was on a natural high so he let him off easy. “Nah, my roommate’ll kick me out if she smells smoke on me,” he replied, shrugging, “And my dad did, so I don’t want to touch the stuff. Memories.” This was getting a bit too personal, something that made him bristle, antsy for anything to take his mind of Illinois. His eyes shifting back to the bar, he gave it a quick once-over before looking back to the stranger, eager to get smashed. “How ‘bout you? Wanna get hammered?” he proposed coolly, smiling “Any chance that you want a drink or something? .”

[damiensxng-blog]

moodboard [1/?]

"remember, the most beautiful snakes are the most poisonous.”

[robinflyaway-deactivated2015073]

Robin greets the customer with a wide grin as he dries a fresh round of glasses. The kid is radiating flirtatious vibes, and Robin takes it upon himself to sneak a look through his rose-tinted glasses. “I sure do,” he says, grinning at the wink. “Sure you can handle it?” He gives a short laugh to show that he’s joking and pours the drink. “It’s Boston,” Robin shrugs, “but at least this place’ll be a little more entertaining thanks to you.” 

[damiensxng-blog]

Everything thus far was going according to plan, at any rate. Damien had stuck up a conversation with the bartender, several guys were looking his way, and he looked amazing. He always did look fantastic, but that was beside the point. The only thing that could’ve made this better was that if his efforts paid off, which was tentative at this point. “I’m practically a blessing, I know,” he said, smiling coyly, “So, anything interesting happen yet, besides me?” He looked behind him and waved at the gaggle of boys, and turned back to the bartender. This was going to be some night, all right.

[kmagazinelovers]

Lee Jong Suk - @Star1 Magazine July Issue ‘15

[damiensxng-blog]

don’t start, darling  || eli & damien

[diabvlical]

Usually if he was brash about things people turn away and leave him alone. Depending on how much sleep he got it ranged from a light nip to a full on bite. At the times like now though, when he didn’t get a win of sleep for the past two days, his brain was too muddled to be clever. His usual wit was buried under the exhaustion that controlled his body. Just hearing the nickname of being a ‘hipster wanna be’ made his irritation flare to actual anger for two seconds.

Just enough time for his body to react physically. His powers were still held under some control since he felt like he was getting run over a bus and punched in the eyes at the same time his control slipped. His gloved hands had tightened around the coffee cup he held. The pads of a few fingers on his left hand had burned through and left smudged ink stains on the cream colored cup. No one would see that of course since he hadn’t moved his hands from the cup one inch. It was only to his knowledge that he fucked up yet another pair of gloves and now would need new ones. “Spill about what? You want story of my personal life or the story of why I’m here? Because if it’s the first then you can be as annoying and hindering as you can to me. If it’s the latter then I can show you. I just can’t promise you’ll have your job at the end of it.”

[damiensxng-blog]

His foot stopped tapping as soon as the man visibly tightened his grip around the cup, his face shifting from annoyance to anger. “So he really does have some bite,” he thought to himself, a bit impressed, “And he has a weak tolerance for insults, so goading him isn’t worth it. Unless I want my eyeliner to run again.” Damien put his hands on his hips, about to retort sat the obviously aggravated man, when he heard about the promise of getting him fired, which for all intents and purposes, was hilarious to him.

 Chuckling to himself uncontrollably, he bit his lip, trying to get his giggles under control. Because frankly, he really couldn’t care less about this horrible beige prison. “Dude, fine. If you want to, and I’m probably sure you will,” he sputtered out, still shaking a bit, “Get me fired, fine. But if you’re going to spill ‘bout your personal life, I wouldn’t object, really. If you want to quid pro quo me on it, I won’t object either.” Looking at the man with a small smile, he leaned into the counter, seemingly inquisitive about what he has to say. Just a facade to pass the time, and to keep this guy from smashing every glass cup in here. Hey, he never said that he was a people person.

[damiensxng-blog]

don’t start, darling  || eli & damien

[diabvlical]

Now he wasn’t a strict punctual man. A few minutes late was fine by him and he wasn’t one to show up any later to a meeting than 10 minutes. Anything past that tried his patience. There was a client that was supposed to come talk to him today to weed out the details for their deal. He got to the cafe on time surprisingly enough and even got himself a cup of coffee. 

That had been half an hour ago. His fingers were drumming restlessly against the fake wooded tabletop. With eyes on the glass window and the clear aura of him not wanting anyone to say or do anything to him no one bothered him. No one but that man- the barista it turned out- that decided to speak his thoughts. Eli blinked once before he looked over to the man. The other’s expression was matched with his own annoyed look. “Never thought of shooting up a cafe, but if I ever do I’ll make sure you’re the first I go for. And I never get stood up on dates so turn your nosy ass around and make some more coffee or some shit.”

[damiensxng-blog]

Damien wasn’t a people person, not by a long shot, as evidenced by every single time he hadn’t talked to someone in an abrasive manner. So, when this man became absolutely rude to him without any explanation at all, he raised a perfectly and painfully plucked eyebrow, not even bothering to let his anger show for this simpleton. He felt like was too good to retort some, half-assed backhanded compliment, but honestly, he could use the entertainment on this boring shift. He stood upright and put a hand on his hip, clearly not fazed by this stranger’s vitriol. He’d heard worse from his own parents, for Christ’s sake, it wouldn’t kill him to put a little creativity into his threats. 

“I’m so flattered by your heartfelt sentiment,” he said in a monotone voice, accompanied by the soft jazz that floated through the room, “And you do know that there’s no one to make coffee for, right? So spill, hipster wannabe, I have nothing better to do for the next three hours, and you’re probably going to have to wait that long too, so win-win.” He’d nothing better to do, and something in his gut told him that this would be a good show, one way or the other. Staring down the man with the best impassive expression he could muster, he tapped his foot on the carpet, a metronome to gauge the passing minutes.

[damiensxng-blog]

if anyone wants to send me quotes, go for it!!!! i have #thirst for this new event. or maybe, think of plot bunnies, at any rate. when i mean plot bunnies i mean like weird details between our charries. so like, connections, basically lmao woops 

im dtp (down to plot) all day erry day (which means like when i wake up at 12nn lmao) but seriously? plot with me. i am a plot hoe. 

[damiensxng-blog]

don’t start, darling  || eli & damien

The scent of caffeine swept through the shop, and the whirring of machines could be heard throughout the comparable silence of the shop. It wasn’t the best part of his day when Damien had to shuffle back to the shop and tie his apron around his waist for another dull day. The fact that he had to deal with cranky, decaffeinated people was another plus that constantly made him want to shove the boiling-hot coffee in their faces. Niceties weren’t a big thing with them before caffiene, so why should he make an effort to smile for them, anyways?

On this particular day, Damien spotted someone take their coffee and nurse it for half an hour. If that didn’t sound any alarm bells, it was the guy’s constant checking of his watch and the emptiness of the club. Leaning against the counter and staring at the man with his trademark deadpan face, he called out to him, no hint of warmth in his voice. “Hey, you stood up by your date, or something? You’ve been sipping that cold-ass latte for thirty minutes, for some reason, and I need to know if you’re going to shoot this place up so I don’t die here.”