inspiration.

[dracoswrites]

[beholdingslut]

It isn’t evil that is ruining the earth, but mediocrity. The crime is not that Nero played while Rome burned, but that he played badly.

Ned Rorem (via mythaelogy)

[lifeinpoetry]

this is the story of how I never stopped running. this is the story of how, when the wolves knocked, I met them at the door and I became the beast, instead.

(via runloverrun)

[noirsmoonarchived]

ELEKTRA : I am the shape you made me.

Filth teaches filth.

– Sophokles, Elektra (tr. by Anne Carson)

[noirsmoonarchived]

tagged by – @oeciers, @infxnitv tagging – @inwolvesteeth, @sooncerely, @axxailant, @fluorvte, @sognitio, @lostashore, @vartouhix, @multifaricus

name oh sehun. birthday 19941224. zodiac sign capricorn // dog. siblings n/a. pets n/a. time 801 am. phone s7edge, note 5, iphone 6+, multiple prepaid disposable phones. love or lust love. lemonade or ice tea lemonade. cats or dogs cats. coke or pepsi pepsi. day or night day. meet a celebrity zhang ziyi. chapstick or lipstick chapstick. city or country city. last song played nova heart // my song 9.

[noirsmoonarchived]

RULES – cross off the ones you’ve done (IC). please, repost and don’t reblog! TAGGED BY – lots + oeciers TAGGING – n/a

Keep reading

[noirsmoonarchived]

❛ M A D E into violence –

selective / 18+ content / strictly literate

[noirsmoonarchived]

it’s never part of orders to tell him where he’s going, no vague indications about the cities he wakes up in after the drugs drain out of his system – the surrounding world is so big to the fourteen year old, he forgets how safe his cell keeps him; some mix of incapacitating agents pumped into his veins has him unconscious for hours this time, waking up to a migraine that rivals the one he often gets after overusage of his powers etches at his temples. reintroducing him to the world started two years ago, treading between conditioning and rehabilitation he does not know, thrust involuntarily into the rumbustious streets of beijing without clear guidance. it was a stricken anxiety attack that sent him back into the compound after the unwanted eyes and invasion of senses left him openly vulnerable. overload, his brain simply couldn’t handle the thoughts and emotions and memories cutting into his own. someone crying over a lost loved one, a first kiss, surviving a fatal car crash of torn metal and fire, a cheating spouse. his feet hitting pavement, shoving through crowds of bewildered onlookers until he passed out in the streets. bleeding from his eyes and nose, as if stricken by a viral infection.

dr huang had labeled it ‘agoraphobia’, wrote it down amongst the entangled diagnosis already filling his sheets in stained ink. he grits his teeth and accepts it, until he breaks away from the disorders hanging like a chain around his neck. he wasn’t allowed out for two months. nowadays, he disconnects himself from that boy entirely, uneffected by what he conceives as defiencies.

he awakes up alone in a hotel room, reading over the files in mandarin, before glancing outside the window; the familiar, but vaguely unfamiliar snow-covered cityspace greets him in russian-style architecture, the ryugyong hotel an eyesore in the horizons. he’s home, or as close to home he has been in five years. he feels no more than vague buzzing in his head, no emotions stir beneath his ribcage. he spends his day locked inside the dark space, curtains drawn as he searches for information on the man through bureau 121s database, permission given by the military with a request for Osiris to use his abilities when its needed, he’s in their servitude now – shifting through information until he finds what he needs. it’s the bare minimum. gives away nothing substantial other than a name he’s sure is an alias. you give to get, he knows this by now. he calls for his ride, running thin fingers through the rough chop of once too long locks, the haircut just one of many prompt ways to bleed him into these surroundings.

the officers check his passport when they escort him to the vehicle, speaking in quick pyongyang accent before he nods to all inquiries (never speaking too much or out of turn, never given anything valuable away to be used against him); even with his organization and the cyberwarefare agency giving him validity, he was nothing more than a outsider – one who looked too young to be within these ranks. and he was. he couldn’t travel without assigned personnel, no matter who he claimed to be.

when military officials showed up on your doorstep, pressed in olive and khaki, wearing nothing more than neutrality on their faces; you were expected to act. especially in this country. he’s standing beside the car in waiting with his hands shoved in his pockets – watching his breath escape in cold smoke, he wonders if this potential partner would be the type to flee and he has no intention to dig a bullet from their back.

[noirsmoonarchived]

ROLEPLAY CHARACTER STATS SHEET

repost, replacing the old information with your muse’s information. pass it on to your mutuals for a better understanding of their muses.

face claim: oh sehun name: oh sehun age: 22 gender: cis m nationality: n korean birthplace: hyesan, nk birthday: 25 december star sign: capricorn…… . . residence: apartment w/ 2 bedrooms near snu, gwanak district marital status: single alignment: neutral evil

LIKES —

drink: water food: pot stickers day or night: day song: black black heart // david usher quote: “mankind has always been cutting one another’s throats …. do you not believe …that hawks have always preyed upon pigeons …? then … if hawks have always had the same nature, what reason can you give why mankind should change theirs?” pet: n/a color: white sexuality: kinsey 4, predominantly homosexual, but more than incidentally heterosexual romantic orientation: grayromantic, do not often experience romantic attraction

LOOKS —

body type: ectomorph eye colour: brown hair colour: black body reference: [ ref ]

TAGGED: N/A TAGGING: anyone who wants to!

[noirsmoonarchived]

four times my muse says they don’t love yours, and the one time they admit it (jongin)

someone had once told him that he was emotional detached. inability to connect, inability to sustain any human relationship longer than a few weeks. someone he thought he loved, someone dissociated with his world. she had been the only one he considered himself committed to and she left. but he didn’t pursue relationships, never enough time to deal with the associated baggage that came with anything beyond the physical. he’s meant to integrate into these cities while not integrating at all; keep the lies he balances flexible enough to allow him to leave without leaving any traces behind – identity disposable. connections disposable. sex was easy for him, simple with clear boundaries and almost always with a goal in mind. it’s neither surprising nor new that most of those he slept with were older men, in power with a title attached to their names. tokyo has him meeting higher ups within the yakuza, standing outside the doorway as he pulls his phone out to distract himself with. incoming texts more interesting than the tattooed bodyguards who’ll shoot him if he even steps incorrectly. jongin differed, it was not commitment by any means of the word, but it was a constant; which he needed. mutualism at best. or so he will say, because he has no idea what jongin gets out of this, but sex. which he tends to get constantly elsewhere when sehun is not around.

[ sms; kjn ] i don’t love you.

the response is instant, ‘that’s fine’ with a smiley attached to it.

Keep reading

[noirsmoonarchived]

already at nineteen, he had earned a title suited for seniors thrice his age and experience, agitator of historical purification for he had been doing this for quite some years. not from hard work, but the altercations in his genetic makeup alone. not entirely difficult to succeed when he was made this way. as predictable as ever in it’s assignments, given tasks and ideas, required to operate them out from any city they’ve stationed him within. new identity, new purpose. he would compare it to reprogramming, but the term felt much too clinical. even if it was terribly accurate. close enough to moscow for transferring, though away from overly watchful eyes here in this smaller urban city, he can blend in without truly blending in at all. yekaterinburg was always windy, cold enough to constantly wear a jacket and cap against it’s effects. crowded, but no different than any metropolitan in russia. he misses china.

his documentations read park hyeonwoo, south korean immigrant double majoring in psychology and russian literature at ural state. son of scientific researchers, everything had been planned down to mundane details. where he grew up, upper-middle class in seoul city, no siblings. it’s unsurprising that everyone believed it, even his girlfriend of six months suspected nothing. there should be some fringe of remorse for the lies yet he feels none. having relationships in his line of work was never directly prohibited by the organization, but considered undesirable. he keeps his outside life separate from everything else.

it’s her birthday, and in one hand is a bag of tropical fruits, in the other are the okinawan sweet potatoes she favored. she hates peeling them, claim they’re too messy and gets underneath her fingernails. so he does it. they had been dating three months before he asked her to move in, his superiors would disapprove of the situation, but not outright punish him. though they could and he would not fight disciplinary actions, acceptance of retribution for wrongful doings was fitting in any occurrences. this was no exception.

the door to their apartment is slightly opened, he pauses, over-cautious and paranoid, hand hovering on the doorknob as he prenaturally feels something behind the wooden frame – fear tangent, the most potent emotion. he enters, sitting the bags down on the floors. accessing, watching. he’s stepping in blood, trailing small in a direct line. and the body is there, at the entrance. knife still embedded in it’s abdomen. he recognizes that weathered face, pavel, former fsb officer gone rogue – god, he hated hitmen. unorganized. guns for hires with shit pay and equally shit thought processes. he hears her crying before he physically sees her tucked from view, “yana, come out,”

[noirsmoonarchived]

kim gadreel, alias ‘jongin’ – doesn’t know why the male chooses to go by that hideous western name, would never have been someone he would have chosen to carry out these assignments with. assignments that he has worked and reworked to textbook perfection. a list of names given by the organization and only a small time-frame allowing for him to plan the eradications. democide the most accurate term for what he commits. impulsive, bloodthirsty, with all the roughed instincts of an uneducated animal, were required for obedience. easier to train, it was by the definition. he understand that much after years at his job, handpicked hitmen before who had similar traits personally. he likes the methods simple, poisons, stage accidents, killed covertly. only when requested otherwise, he gets creative for a statement.

he sends a text message, 'i’m coming over now, have files with me.’ directly to the point, as always.

maybe gadreel wouldn’t understand the mechanisms behind pain threshold and sensory deprivations, but he understood the torture techniques by far and inflicting pain was something the man seemed to get off on. sehun doesn’t care about his sadistic tendencies, doesn’t even question the hidden 'morgue’ in his home and the bodies he has stored down there. wasn’t his place, he only needed gadreel for a few tasks. if his hobbies were foolishly naive – some fantasy driven up by horror films he would have guessed and messy – incredibly messy, it had nothing to do with him. the world was littered with killers. nothing new there. he had encountered a man who ate his victims in rwanda, ate his own child. but gadreel was differently unstable, sehun doesn’t know if it’s an alter he occasionally deals with or a staged personality gadreel finds comfort in; four years of studying neuropsychology did not train him for these encounters. gadreel irritated him, but he could at least tolerant jongin. nice, polite jongin.

he knocks and waits, adjusting the sunglasses perched on his nose. languid impatience in his movement as he waits for the older man to open up. even now through the door he can hear jazz music being played.

[fyeah-redvelvet]

[dracoswrites]

[dracoswrites]

born to a saenuri party assembly leader and high-profiled attorney at law, it’s only natural that jongin as the oldest and only son carrying their surname would be molded into the heir apparent. this environment conditioned him. his upbringing was strict and calculated in a household with parents who loved and worked as business partners. the technical term had been companionate marriage, educated elites serving each other for a means to an end. but without one, neither could survive. he learns that this is more than just conventional love, it’s mutual respect and admiration. it’s a symbiotic relationship built on gain. his parents never loved each other like the couples he sees indulging in public displays of affection. there’s hard lines and negotiations, left no room for emotions or fights. sometimes he sees them occasionally sharing a cigarette on the balcony and it’s the closest thing to intimacy he will ever see. he’s pushed by both of them, never coddled. he pushes back. the threat of anything less than perfection looming over his head should have frightened him. but he knew nothing of errors and mistakes, already at a young age, determining that he could play the game as efficiently as they could. at ten when jongin gets into a schoolyard brawl, coming home after breaking a mate’s nose, his father asks him if he had won; he replies, ‘yes’. and then he’s beaten until he cannot stand, taught the meaning of subtle for the first time until it’s ingrained in his head. it’s the first and only time his father lays hands on him. at twelve, he pays someone twice his age to attack a schoolmate, leaving him half-dead, the boy is in the hospital for months. lesson learned. at thirteen, he becomes fascinated with getting people to obey him. neither of his parents are strangers to infidelity and he occasionally recognizes those unfamiliar faces, on the outside they present themselves as a united front. a picture perfect family here is nothing more than a political bloom and voters subconsciously identify with the politico’s brood, the kims represented the image of nation pride. patriotic in their stance with korean values and maintaining the conservative idealisms of the past. the church they attend serving as only a marker for photoshoot opportunities. he never fidgets under the traditional garments, keeps the smile tight on his face. he grows up hearing xenophobia spewed casually in conversations, his mother complaining about the chinese associates she’s required to work with. his father agrees, slanging slurs and profanities off his otherwise eloquent tongue. words neither would say under public scrutiny. they stick in his head and years later, he finds himself repeating them underneath his breath to close friends. at fifteen he has sex for the first time, it’s over and there’s fingerprints on her neck, she’s crying. it had been thoroughly unsatisfying, wasn’t for him.

[dracoswrites]

a natural-born leader characterized by ruthless levels of rationality and eluding charisma, confidence in ways that draws people in, jongin was conditioned into this persona of alpha male. he is dominant and assertive, without coming across as aggressive in public, the type of individual that makes you want to trust in him. it’s not uncommon for him to be referred to as ‘golden boy’ because of his credentials and boyishly good looks, occasionally mockingly in tone. with the right word and an artificial smile on his face, he notes it’s easy to get what he wants when he wants it – 'no’ is a word that does not exist in his world. he knows how to shape his image in public, never coming across as haughty and conceited if he can help it, despite being incredibly arrogant underneath that mask. never let anyone see more of you than you’re willing to show. he constructs pieces of himself. on first impressions, he is engaging, appears to be polite and nothing short of a gentleman to those he meets. he engages people in conversations and is quite a social creature. he often tries to get to know people, no matter the tier they belong to. but not out of respect, if he thinks someone can serve him, he will use them to his advantage until he no longer needs them. everyone is disposable, top or bottom tier for him, it does not matter. when you ask someone about him, they will say he’s a good guy or at least, they think, but trail off into uncertainty because they simply do not truly know. he has a reputation of being amiable, but rumors and stories linked to him, to the council he belongs to, says otherwise. none have been proven, he will keep it that way. he likes to be liked, to be admired, finding satisfaction in being in the spotlight. he learned about political ploys from both of his parents. deception is an art he long-since excelled in, most of what he says and who is is nothing more than a performance for the apathy that exists, the true inability to care about everyone around him. he likes to be center-stage in everything that he does and willingly to claw his way to the top to get there. in his book, it’s hunt or be hunted. normal feelings of paranoia and nervousness does not exist for someone who cannot fathom most average emotional ranges. he feels happiness as like others, usually stems from victories. incredibly easy to anger over small things, even if he comes across as logical and cool-headed to the public, but most do not get the chance to see this side of him. fortunate enough for them. displays of anger are just ways for him to demonstrate that he’s in charge, that he has the upper-hand in the situation. willing to be violent and horrific in his punishments. he is sadistic, not against harming those for his own pleasure, more kin to picking a victim that will not talk. he has hurt people, physically and emotionally. he can sense weaknesses in others like a trained animal, trailing after it to exploit. he builds relationships based solely on power and only ever establishes dominance bonds. he tends to not understand rejection and in turn, blames those he hurts. rationalizing his own behavior and paints his intentions as honest. jongin is narcissistic in his unstable nature, thinking of himself as above everyone around him, and his perception almost borders grandeur delusions

[dracoswrites]