THERE IS JUST A BOY INSIDE THAT GOD TRYING TO DREAM HIMSELF WELL.
Peter Solarz

titsay

shark vs the universe
AnasAbdin
Game of Thrones Daily
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Today's Document

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

@theartofmadeline
todays bird
cherry valley forever
h
NASA
almost home
trying on a metaphor
YOU ARE THE REASON
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

roma★
seen from Canada
seen from Australia

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Belarus

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from France

seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from Portugal
seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@dreamgodkai-a
THERE IS JUST A BOY INSIDE THAT GOD TRYING TO DREAM HIMSELF WELL.
alive, alive in the moment until the drunk wears off; kiss me so i forget him, kiss me so i have something else to think about in the morning, kiss me so for an instant i am off this planet and somewhere love exists
jongin for ᴠᴏɢᴜᴇ korea (2019)
..this is, you know, totally ok… totally fine. …TOTALLY. 🔥💦
* / This is random, but I was looking through the krp tag today and saw you there, and I remember when I first followed you years ago. (Still do, haha.) I hope you're doing well and that life is treating you good!
Thank you! I am doing great. I am glad some people still remember me. Do not hesitate to approach me! Have a good day, dear!
in the mood for love
* (1) word prompts
send a number and i’ll write a prompt about the following!
wounded
cold
silence
safety
hot
secret
bury
run
loss
nightfall
smile
hitchhiker
blood
laughter
disgust
wrath
remorse
cry
numb
alone
danger
food
matches
hallway
sunlight
forgotten
lie
sleep
scratching
soaring
power
winter
death
panic
insomnia
rain
myth
bury
gun
clown
cult
bug
creature
tire
lost
Kai - Ooh La La La
181028 cr. KNK / don’t edit
These scars are my documentation of the mistakes I’ve made in trying to overcome them. I am both the things I’ve done to myself and the things done to me. Along these nerve endings, you will find a history of me.
Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via goodreadss)
xhiimera:
to skye, there was nothing unattractive about someone fucking up their own life, and/or being fucked up. because well– that’s all skye’s ever known. he was inherently fucked up, and it was in his nature to continually fuck up left and right. he was never one to judge others. ( the only lines he ever drew were if someone tried to fuck over his gang– both the business and his brothers. ) watching jongin these days was like watching an inevitable train wreck. the fire started long ago. it wasn’t as if skye didn’t intervene sooner, because he didn’t care. but sometimes, you had to fuck up so badly that you couldn’t be saved. that’s how you grew. that’s how you shaped yourself into an actual person instead of another carbon copy of trillions on this shit planet.
“bro– three things: 1. stop apologizing. 2. i don’t do pity 3. can’t say that i know how to solve whatever mess you’ve got going on, buuuut–” he drew out the word while a smile grew on his face. it was akin to the smile of the Cheshire Cat: ominous, perhaps devious. seemingly full of good intentions. but too much smoke and mirrors. “–i think i know how to help you get through it.” skye leaned in closer. “alcohol, drugs or all of the above?”
vices were the only way to make existence bearable. skye was such a fucking good friend that he’d supply drugs to his closest friends for free. sounded insane ( ‘cause it was passing up a whole lot of business opportunities ), but it was true. he had the money to do it. and if putting pills or needles or powder or whatever else into his friends’ hands kept them from taking a gun to their head or blades to their wrists– fuck it. self-destruction was a way of staying alive. no matter how paradoxical it sounded. “you’ve already fucked up,” skye said with a shrug. “so you might as well fuck up some more. there’s a party going on tonight. you wanna go and forget for a bit?”
Jongin is still a phantom of who he once was. Clean-cut and law abiding. Even now, torn from the stress and cruelty of life, there are shadows of the prim and proper life he had before. Previously, he would have never even entertained the idea of putting something toxic in his body. He was a dancer. His body was his temple and the sole reason he could afford his lifestyle back then. Now, he was stuck with a bad leg and a bitter heart. He had nothing left to lose. Everything else had been snatched from him without remorse.
Even though, he reasonably knows it's a horrible idea his thoughts travel darker. What did it matter, anymore? What did he have left to lose? Absolutely nothing. His first love, his sole purpose for existing on this fucking planet, his passions, and his career -- it was all gone down the metaphorical drain.
Introverted and morbid Jongin finds himself nodding. Agreeing to these nameless vices and this party he would no doubt do anything but loathe. His fingers card through his dark hair knowing if he was going to sink he might as well anchor himself for the impact. There was no man left worth saving. "Yeah," He mutters finally, eyes dancing up facing the other. "Why not?"
peachseouls·:
THE HOMELESS WOMAN TAKES A bite of the food in her hand as he asks his question, eyes casting up towards him before she weighs on the pros and cons of staying with him. it was supposed to get cold later that night, so why not, right? packing back up the sandwich and placing it back in the bag, she nods slowly, clearing her throat to begin talking, “i would really appreciate that.” She stands slowly, bringing her light jacket (too light for the chill that was in the air) around her midsection as she sighs. “where do you live?” she questions next.
He does not live too far. Which is probably why he sees her so frequently. It's uncomfortable passing her knowing she probably wouldn't have anywhere safe or warm to go. His place was big enough for two minus his wild dogs that would no doubt give the woman no peace or privacy. "It's actually down the street." He admits, "It's nothing much but it's warm and safe."
❛ Those people thought I was a hero. ❜
Could anyone really be blamed for another person's perspective of them?
Jongin knew there was some fault in it for everyone but ultimately he couldn't be blamed for what assumptions people would make of him. It's why these things are so sad. They expect successful, happy, and heroic people around them when so many are just broken or lost or just as uncertain. His head tilts, "Did they think wrong?" He asks. If he were in the other's shoes he would say absolutely. Jongin was no hero. A coward who ran from his family and lost his dreams. The idea anyone might see him as such left a nasty taste in his mouth.
It was sour, it was disappointing.
i have everything else drafted. for now, if anyone would like to plot or something throw me a message?
peachseouls·:
JOLTING FROM HER SLUMBER under the awning of a old cafe (that was since vacant), she hears someone rustling near her, a bag of some sort. rubbing sleep from her eyes quickly, the young woman begins to try to find something to defend herself when she sees the familiar stranger setting down a bag of food next to her. “o-oh… sorry.” she whispers quietly, eyes examining the bag. “t-thank you…” she whispers, reaching for the bag slowly to only open it. a chicken sandwich and fries from a local fast food restaurant were the contents inside, a small smile gracing her lips as she takes the food from the bag. eyes gaze up towards the kind samaritan. “w-why are you so kind to me?” she questions.
Everyone has times where their luck seems to end. Jongin would know best, right? The only problems he doesn't have in his life right now are financial ones -- thankful he did at least one wise thing when he was making a lot of money... which was to allow people to invest it for him. As miserable as he was with himself there was no way he could just walk past her without trying to help. "I know this might be seen as suspect or shady but would you like somewhere warm to sleep tonight?" He murmurs, "I have a couch."
❛ You definitely don’t know who I am. Cause I am a chick with layers. ❜ (from suji)
He has not always been this terribly bland with conversation. But the lack of sleep is getting to him as he stares trying to find something personable or witty to come up with. Jongin knows he is descending into this terribly grumpy man with little prospects. The least he could do was be a little bit friendly in hopes of somehow gaining a new friend. However, he falls flat feeling any sense of bubbliness and excitement vacuum right out of him. He huffs, a steady exhale of his expectations, and shakes his head. “Chicks with layers sounds complicated.”
❛ In my experience, the really bad stuff… you never see coming. ❜
He didn’t see it coming to this. Perhaps he was blinded by his own sense of invisibleness and high on the fame, fortune, and allure of his career. It was insane how a nobody like him crawled his way up from the trenches of nameless background dancer who sometimes posted on social media to the most renowned male dancer at the Seoul ballet. Just as quickly as it came was it snatched from him, leaving behind the memories of a man who was far better than the current weary Jongin who has lost the love of his life: dance. “I, sometimes, wonder if it would hurt less if I saw it coming. Or would I feel even weaker and powerless to be able to see my doom coming but unable to stop it from tumbling down.”