hush, baby.

Gumball?

For a while his eyes left his new toy and he moved to grab the other two that she favored the most, her babies. “Ne, now your babies have a playmate now.” Now winding them up and setting them to move along. In Doojoon’s eyes he was sure he saw them smile, he was sure that they weren’t just moving in circle or on a fixed path. What he did see was that they were playing, talking, interacting and it had pleased him even after murdering his other two creations to form a new one. Just like a god during the day, where they were under his mercy but at night the tables were surely turned. There was a pleasant smile on his face, watching them interact before he turned over to Jiyoon. Somehow slightly forgetting she had tagged along with him as he stared almost all too obsessively at his toys. His hand reached over to take hers. “See, they’re a happy family now. I have to find more parts though. I don’t want taking apart old ones….”A hint of fear present as he spoke. Sometimes he wondered if he was actually sane but he saw how things ended up. Tonight was going to be tricky, for the robots lived on one policy: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Tonight they were going to claim one of his kind and he was going to have to take apart…someone and make something new.

Things were getting dark and as much as he wanted her to stay, the risk was far to big. Maybe tonight wasn’t their night, he was sure to visit her sometime soon or have her come in later in after his deeds were done. It depends. Jiyoon was all to used to their usual “routine”. Tonight blood will be shed once again, tonight a new wallpaper was going to be put up and the stench of blood would overwhelm his very room once more. At least he wasn’t all too crazy or so it appeared, that he wasn’t trapping her in his room like he’d do to anyone who came by, thinking that he was such a gentleman. Smooth and sweet, whispering sweet words only to lure you in.

He turned to wrap his arm around her, it was rare for him to hug anyone but it wasn’t rare for him to hug her. He’d slept with her and damn she was amazing at sex, tasty even. “Run…” he whispered softly as he slowly let his arms slip away from her, a smile so sweet was starting to stretch all to maliciously wide. It was about start. The sun was slowly dipping into the horizon, the sky faded from purple to blue and the dim light seemed the only brightness in the room. “Come back late sweety.” He said smoothly as he ran his fingers through his hair, grinning as he stared her from top to bottom, licking his lips as if he was presented with such a meal. He turned away and looked around his room, it felt like a million eyes were on him, he could see shadows of clawed hand reaching out for him. The tables have turned and now he was but a puppet.

The night was about to begin.

#roleplay #(mrfixitdoojoon)#{gumball?}#<nighttime>

It made her smile to see the two that she loved most brought forward. Like almost all the robots in the room, these two were imperfect. One of them had unbalanced eyes, one dimmer than the other. The other walked slowly, stopping every now and again randomly, almost appearing to be hesitating. Long ago, Jiyoon had marked them hers, chalk marks on their little mechanical hands, but even without the white marks, the woman would easily be able to recognise them, pick them out from his crowd of babies. As he took her hand, her smile widened, eyes soft with affection. It was an abnormal image. Twisted, even, but there were times when Jiyoon would feel that this, with him, with these robots that do not actually have lives, is more of a family than she has ever received after her biological father has killed himself. Her hand clutched tightly onto his, squeezing, not understanding the fear in his voice.

That was the one thing that she would never understand. Why he killed, why he felt the need to kill. Jiyoon has grown to accept that this was simply who he is. How was it possible for her to be so tolerant? Partly, because she never really grew up with the values of the perfect child. No, she grew up with concepts like it being okay stepfathers to touch their wife's children, or ones that told her that it was her own fate to be at the mercy of a man related to her only by law. It all came down to fate and karma. Besides, Jiyoon had no one but Doojoon. There was no possible way for her to continue on with the knowledge except to accept, to love Doojoon in the way she had always loved. Once upon a time, she may have questioned with the idea of asking him about it, or trying to change him, but as she slowly came to accept that, just as it was impossible to change her own need to be in someone's bed every single night, it was impossible to change him, to 'help' him. How could anyone except Jiyoon to help someone else before she could help herself? To tell him 'stop' would make her a hypocrite.

He smelled of oil and warmth. The tug in her chest that made her want to kiss him told her, night was falling. She would have stayed, but the moment he murmured the warning into her ear (it made her tremble, and not in a good way, either), she knew that it wasn't a good night. She also knew that, once she pulled away to look at him, she would see something that she had always disliked. Those were the only times she would fear him.

The air had changed. Whatever child-like innocence that had surrounded them, the type of creepiness that one might feel at the still gaze of a child whom loved dolls and spent all their time on their own, had altered into a full-grown man's lust for blood. The fog was affecting Doojoon faster than her tonight. While Jiyoon lagged momentarily in the day, his eyes were already preying on her. She nodded, feeling her voice stick in her throat, but managed still to squeeze out, "Be careful," before turning. And ran.

Gumball?

Like energy surging through him he took her hand and started to tug her towards the direction of his room, “I-I made this new one, I had to take apart two others but it was worth it. You have to come see it!” For once there was excitement in his voice, though a voice of a man, there was this distinct tone of a child. Obviously he wanted her to come along and he was glad she wanted to come along. With the want to avoid rejection he usually avoided them by trailing off just like that and usually he’d end up with not having company but that seldom happened if it was with her.

He might’ve had dragged her around until he reached the door of his room, looking at her with a smile, “C’mon, c’mon!” The door creaked as he pushed it open. The wear and tear of the traveling of the rain, the sun, the harsh winds have led the wood to peel and creak. His fingers, through muscle memory, reached for the light switch. The dim light revealed heavy shadows of countless toys that slumped over as they lay scattered all over his floor. The stench of his room not very welcoming, as it reeked of blood soaked old wood; the smell just wouldn’t go away. Though she had been here countless times, it wasn’t a first at all, she was used to how his room looked. How his bed was never well kept yet it was always so warm. How his room smelled awful, how his wallpaper were blood stains and how his half made models sat at one corner and it didn’t bother her one bit.

Like a child he let go of her hand just to find the new model he had worked on. Pushing aside the rusty scrap metal and bolts that lay messy on his work desk, he turned to her holding out a rusty, boxy robot. The end of it’s antenna had red paint that was peeling off, it’s body had dents here and there but seemed to look firm and sturdy. Gently he took a wind up key and turned it a couple of times, setting it down on the table as the robot toy came to life. It’s bent body rose and it’s eyes lit up the robot got up and started to walk in a circle.

“It looks amazing right?” Bent over, as he kept eye level with his own little toy, glancing at her from time to time, that huge kiddy smile on his face as he found himself amazed all over again even if he’d seen this toy walk in circles over and over as he was testing it out.

Surprisingly, his words made her brows furrow, lips pursing as she bit on the inside on her mouth. "You took apart two of them?" Jiyoon asked, voice small, as if afraid. And she might as well be. Over time, her love for the robots had grown, too, to the point that she would claim that they were her babies, as much as they were his. While she wasn't at the unhealthy level of his where he seems to think that they speak to him, there were a few of the robots that she had taken particular likings to. She feared that he might have taken those apart, even though she highly doubt that he would do something like that to her behind her back.

It was so strange. Back a year ago, when she had first arrived, the state of his room had struck her. Of course, at that time, she hadn't even heard of the fog yet. She had been wide-eyed, innocent; a baby in the world of the Midnight Circus. The metallic scent of blood, hidden behind the tang of actual metal and warmth of his familiar smell, had repulsed and shocked her. Jiyoon had been afraid of him, for the first time in her life. She had ran away and hid, shaking, planning her escape from this horrible place that turns people like Doojoon -- a strange guy, but the sweetest person she has ever known -- into murderers. Night had fallen, the fog had taken over, and everything changed for her. Her opinions, beliefs, and tolerance for the dark elements of the circus had seeped quickly over from her night personality to her day one. Sleeping with him that night, seeing the blood again in a different light, had helped. That night, the eerieness of writhing against him, sweating together while he threatened to kill her with each thrust, as his robots watched with their lifeless, glowing eyes, had aroused her beyond anything she had felt before.

Sometimes, looking back, Jiyoon thought that was love.

Now, as she stepped into the familiar mixtures of smells and objects of his room, the weak light above them casting shadows everywhere, made by the limbs and shapes of his creations, she didn't even flinch, didn't even make note of the new, dark red stain on the corner of his wooden desk, the way she used to. Even her eyes only needed to blink once to adjust to the change from the setting sun's natural glow to the dimmed artificial light of his room.

Following him further into the room a moment later, she stepped up to his side as his new creation stood up right and started to move about. She wasn't sure whether the thrill that rose up in her chest was from the success (over the years, there had only been a few failures, but that never changed the excitement of seeing his robots come to life) or from the brightest smile on his face. If she had been happy to see him fixing the gumball machine before, she was ecstastic now to see him with his robot. Her attention turned to the small, moving creation. His appearance was far from perfect, but it was because of that that he seemed to speak to her. "He's beautiful," she murmured.

Gumball?

Just like how it has always been, he always had something for her. Well he didn’t have much friends but there was her, the only real thing he had close to him in his solitary life. His toys were good company, those wind up robots that he managed to put together after taking apart a clock in his house and everyday he’d show it to her. They’d play, both found it amusing. Sure they weren’t kids anymore but it was always there, the childhood that they didn’t really have would surface in each others company. She understood him, and he understood her. It was more like a silent understanding, a pact that needed no words at all. Seeing each other in the circus was the least expected and since she came along he’d never been happier. Sure the eeriness and the darkness of the place was sometimes overwhelming and that slow gradual change as the moon rose and the sun vanished had him crave for her company in the morning.

“You should sit down then if it’s acting up,” tugging the sleeve of his jacket, using it as a towel to wipe her forehead gently, it was these little acts that showed how much he cared for her. Sure he hardly voices things out and if he ever did, only she knew about it. If it was anything that was difficult for Doojoon was that he had to remember that people aren’t robots. They feel and they think on their own accord, they’re not programmed. Everything they do is unpredictable and they take things personally. But the solitary life he had then wasn’t any help. So he was always short of something, always lacking in terms of being caring; in terms of being human. But that’s where she comes in. She makes him as human as possible.

Silence followed again the moment he pulled his hand back. There was this inner struggle of thinking what he was going to say next, at times he always came up blank and the situation just would end up as awkward as it ever could be. In these weird moment he had wished night was to fall soon. At night he was better, socially. His eyes shifted to the late afternoon sun to showcase just how dirty and polluted the sky was with the multitude of warm colors that presented themselves. The nice fading hue of orange, red, yellow and sometimes purple. It matched the very setting of the circus where it stood. Pretty to the eyes yet behind it such a dark and horrible world.

“Are you going to have practice again? My rounds are done. I think I’ll go back to the my room and play…” It was an invite, indirectly. He could have flatly said ‘come hang out with me’ rather than leave a trailing sentence that would hint that he wanted her to come along. He was like that. Odd in so many ways, only because he was always unsure or weary or cautious. Coming along with him at this time was risky…not that she couldn’t handle him.

Not once had she ever tried to put a label on their friendship, relationship, companionship, nor had she ever desired to do so. The closest thing that might describe what they had would be 'best friends', and it was a phrase overused and overrated, tossed between girls that do not even necessarily mean what they say. The connotations that come with those two simple words were too silly. They were more than simply best friends. She understood him, and he understood her. There was a bond between them that cannot be replicated elsewhere, one built over the bridge of their broken childhood and further ruining teenage years, over their need to fill the void that would not have existed in the first place if their childhood had been anything like what normal children has. It was a relationship between two people that were equally broken, put together to make one. He made her whole.

Perhaps she was bad for him, for Jiyoon gave him an excuse not to have to speak aloud his emotions and feelings. It would never occur to her that that was the case. Either way, he was too close to her heart for her to ever decide to 'do him good' by distancing herself. As he patted the droplets of sweat away from her forehead, she smiled slightly. It had never once mattered to her that he was unlike others. That was what she had always liked about him. He cared for her, and she knew.

Even before, their group of friends had found it strange. How was it that she could understand Doojoon so well? It made little to no sense, except for the fact that they were both on the quiet side. She knew how to read him, though, in a way that most people cannot.

Which is why, when his voice trailed off, she knew immediately what he was saying. He wanted her to go with him. Glancing back towards where she had been rehearsing alone only a moment ago, Jiyoon took less than two thoughts to turn her eyes back to him and smile, "Can I come along?"

Le Pomme Creme

Food. Jiyoon wanted Food, of course. Jaejoong sighed as he looked at what could have been a beautiful and unique piece for his portfolio. He bent down and pulled out two plates from a bin sitting underneath the metal table. ”How does cake sound? I’m pretty sure this one is going to be delicious. Two layered with chocolate ganache placed in between the layers. Baked Apple slices placed on top of the ganache and homemade icing that will destroy your taste-buds with ecstasy.”

Jaejoong grabbed a nearby knife and began to slice the ruined mess into pieces. As he put the pieces on the plates he couldn’t help but to emit a soft laugh. He had been angry but after licking his lips and tasting the sweet icing he knew that he wasn’t anymore. Food had that kind of effect on the man. Whenever he was sad or lonely or suffering from a breakup food had always been there. It was a miracle that Jaejoong didn’t weigh 300 pounds yet because he just ate that much.

A particular favorite dish was Truffade, potatoes sauteed in a savory garlic sauce with tomme cheese. As a child the only thing that would stop his tears was a nice bowl of Truffade. Naturally, when he grew up the very first dish his mother taught him was Truffade. She used to always say that he should have been born in Auvergne; the region in which the dish is most popularly served.

Jaejoong slid the plate over to the woman knowing she knew where to get the forks. ”Wine?” He asked as he headed towards the back to pick out a bottle. They weren’t the best things and even Jaejoong knew that they weren’t all that tasty but he refused to let them enjoy his Pomme Creme without a nice glass of Vin.

#(jaejoongthemasterchef)#roleplay #{le pomme creme}#<daytime>

As if on cue, the moment her eyes lowered to the cake (in her eyes, not so much with the ruining factor that he could see), her hollow stomach grumbled yet again. How does cake sound? Oh, it sounds perfect to her. She could eat the circus elephant. Except she wouldn't, because there was a whole cake in front of her being offered to her. Were her eyes shining with hunger? Even if they weren't, Jiyoon had the feeling that it looked like she was eating the cake with her eyes.

Giving him a quick, enthusiastic nod, she went to pull up stools while he cut the cake up. It looked amazing. She didn't for one second doubt that it would make her taste buds explode in ecstasy, just as he said they would. She grabbed them forks, too, after a moment's thought, setting the stool beside Jaejoong and the forks on the table, moving her own stool to sit opposite him.

Once the plate was in front of her, Jiyoon let herself endulge. It was so simple, yet it was the simple that was often the most joyous of life. Her fork cut a piece of the cake off and lifted it to her mouth. It seemed to melt on her tongue, and she seemed to feel like melting with it. Just as she expected, absolutely amazing.

Nodding yet again at the offer for wine, she looked up at him with bright, appreciative eyes, "Thank you. This is delicious."

#is everyone asleep? :c #i want more night paras #ooc

Gumball?

Absorbed in his work, even though the task was simple. There wasn’t anything difficult for him so far, there wasn’t any thing that needed fixing that required everything he knew about machines or well, managed to figure out. It was always always something so simple. Not that he complained. His ‘patient’ only had some minor injury and surgery was quick. The spring in the knob had gotten loose, resulting in the flap that would trigger and pull the trap door open for the gumball to drop into the chute not to open. Noticing the shadow that approached him he only looked up to smile the moment he heard her voice. The smile still present on his face when he nodded.

“Nothing hard to fix, just a loose spring.” Pliers reaching in to hook back the spring in place then starting to close up his patient, screwing the lid back shut. “It ate my quarter without giving me my gumball.” He said after a while, turning the knob once more as he held the palm of his hand by the chute where the pink gumball rolled onto. That smile of satisfaction and happiness appeared on his face before he stretched his hand out to her. “Here you can have it. I suddenly didn’t feel like having candy.”

As observant as he was with small details he noticed how she seemed short of breath a bit, how sweat trickled down the side of her head. He knew she came from rehearsals not that she ever stopped dancing. She was always dancing and he knew it made her happy and it made him happy just watching her sometimes. He’d do that sometimes on his free time; he’d watch her practice. It was always something good to watch, she was great at it.

“Practicing hard again?”

Being someone as curiously observant as Jiyoon, it had always managed to fascinate her in some way Doojoon has this seemingly supernatural ability to fix anything and everything. Of course, anyone that was good at what they did received the same fascination and curiosity from the girl, but having known Doojoon longest out of everyone at the circus, he received the most admiration from him. Never mind the fact that she knew of his growing collection of robots from even before coming here. The few years spent apart had certainly increased the admiration through his growth and her surprise of it all.

Her eyes sparkled as she took the gumball. Though her mouth was dry from thirst, she still liked receiving gifts from him. He always did treat her well. Back then. Now. Popping the candy into her mouth, she chewed, blowing it into a small bubble afterwards and letting it pop. As she tongued it back into her mouth, she grinned. There were times when she was still so much like a child, letting herself be amused by little things like that. Sometimes, on days when she opens her eyes in the morning and feels too old in her body, she knows that her normal self is like a form of herself trapped still in the age when her father was still alive, more than ten years ago now.

"I wouldn't say that I've been practising hard, exactly," Jiyoon sounded sheepish, hands slipping into the pockets of her cardigan and pulling it downwards, hiding more of her pale legs stretching out from beneath her leotard. "My ankle is acting up again, so I needed a rest," she explained.

Gumball?

It was as it was. The day starts with however the night ended, cleaning up what he should, tossing out what shouldn’t be there. Traces of blood smeared on his walls and floor appeared as nothing but decorations, the stench of death seeming like fresh early morning air to him; yes it was a normal morning. A cup of coffee to wake him up, a bit of cleaning, freshening up.

Yoon Doojoon made his rounds the second time around, late in the afternoon. Checking everything, if everything was working well. There was always this certain thrill inside of him as he made his rounds; always hoping, always wishing that there was at least one thing that needed fixing. It was more than a past time really; and what would he do if there wasn’t anything that needed fixing? He’d be nothing. He’d have no purpose. He’d be bored. On some days he was lucky, there was one and though it was just faulty wiring or lose bolts and screws, that had already made his day brighter.

The tip of his finger brushed over the dusty steel of one of the clown cars that was parked along with the other props, eyes closely inspecting. With nothing there and everything in order her found himself standing in front of a gumball vending machine. For a while he stared, then reaching into his pocket for a quarter and dropping it in the slot, turning the knob and waiting for his gumball to drop in the chute but none came. Just like that, a smile appeared on his face. Getting on his knees, he reached into his utility belt for a screwdriver and started to happily fix the machine. Carefully unscrewing the slot cover, inspecting and searching for the problem.

Today was a good day.

Her ankle was beginning to hurt, and she needed a break.

As one of the most hardworking of the junior dance troupe, Jiyoon didn't take breaks often, and when she did, she really did need them. This time, she really needed it. Her calf felt ready to snap when she finally stopped, breathing hard, pulling on a thin cardigan and stepping outside, into the fresh air, into the real world where life wasn't equivalent to dance, and dance wasn't equivalent to life. On these days, she has the thought of running away, but it quickly dissipates. They were irrational thoughts, for never once had she seriously disliked being here.

Squinting across, she spotted a familiar figure. Doojoon? He was inspecting the machines, doing his job and being happy about it. On this sunny, but slightly breezy day, Jiyoon watched her friend, and willed, deep down, for one of the machines to have a problem. Not because she wanted bad things for the man, but, rather, because she knew precisely what it was that made him tick, just as he knew precisely what made the machines tick. He liked this, and so Jiyoon wanted him to be able to stop and fix something, because it would put a smile on his face. A genuine, sincere smile, so different from the ones that sticks in her blurry memories of the nights.

Crossing over to him after a moment, her shadow fell in a pool at the foot of the gumball machine. She waited for him to notice him, before smiling, "It's broken?"

Little Miss Red

manager-minho-blog

The show was running too far past late as Minho watched the moon fall past the earth. His hand clutching onto the rail of the caged cattle as the fog emerged from the darkness. It was a managers nightmare knowing that the performers were still on stage with a full audience and were soon to be changed into who knows what. With all the new workers Minho had yet to figure out all of their personalities let alone their night visions. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if some of them had been through a night experience yet. Troubles set into his mind more and more as he petted the cattle one last time before turning quickly towards the back stage once again.

As he worried for not only the preformers but the auidience it’s self he completely forgotten about his own change in desire. With the small cast of a shadowy fog it didn’t take long for not only Minho to see his new set of mind but the people around him as well. Shivers spiked up his back as he watched around him, licking his lips with fear before his old mind was completely gone.

It didn’t take long for him to reach where the girl was standing, creeping behind her as he watched her makeup become complete. Many feet away and it was almost as if he was right in front of the mirror. His eyes stayed narrowed as he head gently turned around, Minho’s senses flaring as the scent of the females hair instantly flew in his direction. She was a beauty, no doubt, and Minho’s night view wasn’t going to let a distant fear of the show let this one slip away from him.

A crooked smile placed along his lips as he took steps closer to the female. In an instant he was less than three inched from breathing down the girl’s neck, keeping his eyes tight on hers and smile planted nice and firm. His fingers trinkled around her shirt for a few seconds before yanking her onto his chest, tilting his head a little down at her. “Have you really set yourself out her like so with no intentions of attraction?”

#roleplay #(manager-minho)#{little miss red}#<nighttime>

This wasn't the first night experience for her. How could it be? Jiyoon has been with the circus for almost a year now. She knew. There were some that feared the change, some that pretended it did not even exist. But her? She welcomed it with open arms. Surprise, right?, considering how daring and damned a personality that comes out during the night, contrasted with how very timid and obedient she normally is during the day. But think about it. All her life, Jiyoon has suppressed. Suppressed anger, suppressed fear, suppressed desire. Suppressed life. To her, this was her way out. This was her freedom, her only method of expressing all that cannot be expressed as a child and an adolescent. Somehow there had never been any doubt within her that she would explode one day, anyway. The fog was simply a trigger that downsized her impending explosion into something natural. She was never to know that, despite the lack of an explosion, the flames were still much larger than she could ever make herself.

Jiyoon wasn't too sure if she first noticed the prickling but rather pleasant and familiar sensation of being watched, or was it the soft breathing brushing down the soft hairs of her bare neck that alerted her? Either way, he was fast, and when she turned, he was there. Ah, Minho the manager. She's seen him around, heard about him, but they've never been officially introduced. She supposed that this wasn't an entirely bad way to meet, pressed to his chest, looking up at him through her dark lashes. Her reddened lips curled into a small smirk. She liked the scent of the circus that clung to his clothing.

"Oh, that was most definitely not what I intended." The circus, after all, comes alive at night, even if not for the audience. She could easily have stepped out of the tent, into the darkness where one mystery after the next awaits her. But, now, as a hand curled behind his neck and pulled him low (control, she always fought for it despite the tendency to give in at the end to a man that could dominate), Jiyoon murmured, "But I could always be a private show if you will it, big boy." Maybe it wasn't a good idea to call him a boy, whether big or not. She decided that she didn't really care, and wanted whatever that came to mind to flow from her lips without filter.

Le Pomme Creme

Jaejoong felt like his entire world had shattered with one single mistake. His heart began to race and he had to bite down on his bottom lip to prevent a scream from escaping his lips. The wooden spoon he had used to prevent his teeth from gritting had fallen onto the top of the cake, it’s ladle making a clearly unfix-able indent next to the dollop of buttercream icing.

His jaw dropped as he gaped at what his masterpiece had become. His perfect Pomme Creme ruined because he had been so careless when he chose what spot to work in. This wasn’t the fault of Jiyoon, it was his. He silently chuckled at the irony of the situation. His Pomme Creme was ruined and it was karma’s way of making him atone for using Kibum’s workstation.

He gently removed the wooden spoon and tried to see what he could salvage, which of course was nothing. ”No…, n-not your fault,” Jaejoong managed to whisper in a barely audible voice. Still clearly shocked by the ruining of his precious cake he took a moment to compose himself before turning towards the girl.

”Can I help you?” He asked with an unusually bright smile that normally wouldn’t have been seen on the face of Kim Jaejoong. Hopeing it didn’t seem too fake he genuinely wondered why the girl had walked into his kitchen. It’s not your kitchen, moron.

#roleplay #(jaejoongthemasterchef)#{le pomme creme}#<daytime>

The younger woman would not once begin to be able to interpret the thoughts and emotions racing through the chef's mind. And how could she? Jaejoong had always seemed to her a gentle, kind man whose fingers spewed magic in the form of beautifully made cuisine, an art that Jiyoon herself knew could not be fully appreciated by herself, as someone that had never been all that interested in art beyond the surface level of acknowledging a beauty that touches on the human brain.

Yet, it was not completely beyond her that something was off, that something was unusual. Her eyes darted down to the surface of the pomme creme, and almost winced at the sight of it. This was what was wrong. No, it wasn't her fault? That was a lie. Yes, it most definitely was her fault. The man did not have to speak for her to understand that.

The dazzling smile he turned to her with made her lower her eyes in shame, in a sense of self-hatred whenever she did anything remotely wrong. There was that urge to swallow herself back into herself, to disappear completely, to cancel herself out. But, there she stood, a small child feeling that she has done too much wrong to the world to even have the right to exist in it.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I was just..." It seemed silly now, "I was wondering if you had any food."

#tired as eff after a long long day ;~;#will get to replies #:D/#ooc

#u_u #eyes shutting #replies to be done later #bye!#ooc

Little Miss Red

Night has fallen.

The dancer pursed her lips together as she brushed the finishing touches of her crimson eyeshadow over the lids of her eyes, before they opened, and Jiyoon smiled a full smile at herself. Now that's something one wouldn't see from the oh-so-delicate Jiyoon of the daylight. The woman could scoff at her alter ego. But, no, she'll keep it to herself, to her more devilish side. After all, without her weaker self, she knew she wouldn't at all exist. And how the world would miss out on something brilliant.

Her part of the performance was over, the only reason why she was free to sit around here. One might be curious as to why she was redoing her make-up, but she had a bit of a motto: a performer is always a performer, whether under the scrutiny of the audience or not.

Shoulders rolling back in a slight stretch, Jiyoon moved over to the curtains to peek out towards the performance that was still happening. She had to admit to herself, all those that danced with her danced beautifully, whether male or female. It made her smile. Fully intending to watch for longer, it wasn't until she heard a noise behind her that she dropped her curtain and turned to look, a slight cock to her eyebrow at the unexpected intruder.

#roleplay #(manager-minho)#{little miss red}#ooc: sorry it took a while #<nighttime>

Le Pomme Creme

Jaejoong hummed in contentment as he gently whipped the perfect icing to a delectably soft consistency. He quickly dropped the bowl and moved to put up the Apple Butter-cream that he had just poured into a piping bag beforehand. Jaejoong’s specialty was French Cuisine, pastries of any kind weren’t usually up his ally. However the inspiration for the two-layer chocolate apple cake with the chocolate ganesh came out of no-where and hit the man like a ton of bricks.

Taking the piping cream in one hand and placing a wooden spoon into his mouth to prevent mistakes he began to pipe the burgundy fondant that he had placed over the cake an hour ago. With slow and careful movements he began to old-school pipe various squiglies and heart shapes over the side of the fondant.

Jaejoong didn’t particularly like cooking during the afternoon but when he strolled in that morning he noticed the main kitchen area was empty and he could’t resist the urge to cook on the stainless steel tabletops.

Just as Jaejoong put the finishing touches of the painted tips on the top of the cake he heard a small noise and in panic dropped the wooden spoon causing it to drop on the bottom of the piping bag. A quarter sized dollop spilled out onto the center of the cake ruining his hardwork and causing his beautiful masterpiece to look like a 3 year old played with its mash potatoes.