SECOND HEARTBEAT

kim jongin, 23. law student. sometimes you have to pee in the sink.

[hpjongin]

“you’re really sensitive for a selfish asshole."

sentence meme for @hpjsuran // not accepting

“don’t fucking tell me you didn’t tear up once during that entire movie.” from under disparaging brows, jongin looks at her in disbelief.

their eyes lock for a solid minute, neither speaking to the other. finally, he breaks the silence: “hachi is just a really sad movie, okay?! just, just — why am i not surprised that you’re completely unaffected by this? hachi waits every fucking day at the train station even after parker dies. until hachi fucking dies! hachi fucking dies too! and while he’s dying he has a fucking vision of parker coming to pick him up!” jongin presses his eyes into the heels of his palms and releases a guttural groan.

“god, fuck. fuck you, suran. you’re the selfish asshole. never taking you to see a dog movie again. i’ll j-just drive you home now.”

[sueing]

Visit Original Link

[hpjongin]

“bro, you look so cute right now. dude, you are so fucking adorable.”

sentence meme for @hpjestella​ // not accepting

“christ, are you stoned?” he gives her a curious look, one eyebrow raised. it’s not long before his eyes return to the prize in front of him, of which he rather ravenously takes a bite. “damn,” jongin isn’t even halfway done chewing the food in his mouth before he chooses to speak again. “you want a bite of this burger? i just, like, fucking, nut.”

it’s with some reluctance that he rests it back down onto the plate before looking up at estella. “but anyway, thanks, i think. you’re pretty fucking adorable yourself. or whatever.”

[hpjongin]

“i think I’m subconsciously trying to ruin my own life.”

sentence meme for @hpjevan​ // not accepting

“bro, you hit a blunt. not like you just tried to murder someone.” he lets the joint rest in between his lips. breathes in, breathes out, coughs, then looks back up at evan. “unless, this is about something else?”

one by one, jongin begins to crack his knuckles — partially out of habit, but more so just to clear the air. it’s quiet for a bit, save for the faint strum of a guitar solo in the background from inside the bar, then jongin speaks up again.

“i think — i think you’re doing all right. getting by. we all are,” he watches rather passively as the ashes on the end of their joint fall to the cement below their feet. “besides, you have haein. don’t you guys love each other, or something? i mean, not in that way. i mean, unless it is in the way, then that’s okay too. yeah. you, subconsciously trying to ruin your own life,” jongin exhales the stale smoke from the bottom of his lungs. “i think she’d try to stop you.”

[hpjongin]

“i don’t want to look ‘pretty’, i want to look otherwordly and vaguely threatening.”

sentence meme for @jieunhpj // not accepting

the white gardenia from the local florist was a nice touch, he thought. he had slipped it behind her ear, stepped back to examine her, and then called her pretty, in that order. of course, jongin knew jieun was bound to protest.

“not going to happen. no matter how hard you try,” chuckling almost inaudibly, he raises his hand and brushes a stray length of hair from her face before flashing his infamously boyish smile. “although, you might just be able to pass as otherworldly. anyway, do you want to grab a bite? there’s a band playing at this joint around the corner. please say yes.”

his only free day and he comes to her first. a sigh, then his eyes rest on the gardenia. “couldn’t pass on an opportunity. really. not when you look this pretty, and otherworldly, and i guess vaguely threatening.”

[hpjongin]

“i’ll have you know my trust issues and my daddy issues are two COMPLETELY different topics of conversation.”

sentence meme for @hpjlauren // not accepting

“you’re kidding, right?”

he throws her his usual look of disbelief — usual for lauren, anyway, just based on the things that usually came from her mouth. but, of course, he really can’t help but break into string of hearty laughter, as he often did. unintentional or not, she had a way of getting him to do that. 

“you have trust issues because you have daddy issues. like, that’s how it works. speaking of which, i think the unloved is playing a couple of blocks down from here. some of their songs are about daddy issues. really — in one, they even say ‘daddy’ in english. unless it’s actually a kink song…” he furrows his brows, then brightens again. “anyway, maybe you can get some inspo for wuju cowboy. don’t know what you guys are going for, but i assume it includes being quirky and ironic.”

[mitsuki20s]

local, lazy admin here with a meme that you can use with the event if you’d like, if not that’s cool too. feel free to reblog and do to your heart’s content but please keep in mind that memes don’t go towards activity. also general psa some of these are nsfw.

Keep reading

[hpjsuranbaby-blog]

( BODYACHE )

[hpjongin]

hpjsuran:

( ... )

“it’d be sending the wrong signals if i drop by unannounced with no underwear on—which, by the way, your mentor stole from me—so no, i don’t have any other dick to please tonight.” she hardly bothers to suppress the eye roll. 

“besides, i already have my hands full right now dealing with you and your shitty no heater car.”

by that, she did mean, yes, he was a dick.

“yeah, totally, like my internal car heater is going to be any help to a cold car battery.” his eyes narrow, ill humor manifesting in the form of a sardonic frown. “you wouldn’t know how cars work because it’s always someone else driving you, right?”

then, a quiet sigh parts his lips. “buying you things, doing your laundry, spoon-feeding you — wonder if you’ve ever done anything yourself.” he gives her a spiteful look, scrunching his nose at the rather off-putting fruity smell. it’s an almost involuntary move to roll the windows down; he can’t afford to have his car smelling like vape juice for the next week, even if it meant frigid air kissing their cheeks and disheveling their hair. not that he cared much.

“and, that’s probably because i’m not?” jongin laughs — genuinely, this time, in the full-throated way he usually did. it carries for a solid twenty seconds; he couldn’t have begun to imagine what type of person he’d be if his dad was like his dad, growing up. “i was referring to my father. he’s the uh, the military son. meaning, my grandpa was the one who hung out with americans all the time, back in the fifties. hence, the old music cassettes everywhere. do you like sgt. pepper’s lonely hearts club band? the beatles album?” he fumbles around with the compartments, just to show her, before realizing: “christ, why am i telling you this? you don’t care. just — just could you stop vaping in my car?”

deliberately, slowly as if with exaggerated courtesy jongin turns his head to look at her when they hit a stoplight, shades of red hitting the wider planes of their faces. “you know i hate him, right? my thirty-something boss you just fucked. i’m just doing this internship for the money. like, i’m legitimately broke. and god knows anything but corporate law won’t pay you the same. you know that.”

“so sorry you think i’m a dick or whatever—” he got the reference. “—but it’s really too much of you to expect me to prince charming when i have to go to work in four hours and i’m still here with you.”

[angelstills]

Submarine (2010)

[hpjongin]

* GOOD FELLAS ,

[hpjongin]

hpjmoon:

An earful and a mouthful, and he knew where this was going – dipping fish cakes in tteokbokki sauce could only distract Moon for so long, “Politicians are simply the face of it all; it’s the people behind the scenes that are the true dickwads.” His eloquence was a gift from Negligence. The remaining crumbs of his snack was flung back into the hatch and his stomach was still not as full as he would like it to be. The stained creased cup followed after Jongin’s, bouncing from the rim and barely making it in.

“They’re all connected, anyway,” warm lights reflecting warm light was dipping into the creases of his skin and it was already a good night. “Park Geunhye was – and is – part of a cult and it’s only a matter of time before Moon Jaein caves in, too.” Shoulders were shrugged and hands tucked into pockets, “Unless he already is; wouldn’t doubt it.”

Neon sign after “30% OFF sign, Moon was keeping an eye out for their destination. Trying to memorize the cracks in the pavement was a pointless, needless task, so he kept track of shop names they passed. Most had racks with shirts with English he couldn’t understand (or barely even pronounce) stacked in the street like they had no home. He’ll find his way back to his rooftop somehow, even if someone puts the “SNIFFING GLUE WON’T KEEP FAMILIES TOGETHER” tunic back to where it belongs. “Like The Cow Chips, Funeral Advantage, or more of a Hot Potato feel?”

a skeptical glance is thrown towards moon, followed by a string of chuckles arising not out of his own volition. jongin only ever lends part and parcel of his sentiments to moon, but the mere thought of a discussion about conspiracies now seemed more to serve the purpose of amusement rather than actual discussion.

at the very least, to him. moon seemed to be into it. jongin really can never tell if he’s being serious or not.

“you think other people would notice whether you had just listed off random nouns and adjectives or actually mentioned the names of bands?” a boyish smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “uh, the cow chips? i think?” remembering word-for-word, picture-for-picture, sound-for-sound used to be a piece of cake. jongin scratches the back of his head and runs his fingers through his mess of hair. “yeah, i don’t know. you decide. i’m getting old — i always get their respective names and sounds mixed up.” he shrugs, glances with fleeting modes of attention at the various street shops and performers surrounding them.

with his elbow, jongin nudges his counterpart. “though, i doubt i’d ever forget yours. you ever going to get a band together again?”

[hpjongin]

* UNFORGETTABLE

@hpjlondon​

“you liked it?”

jongin throws her an affectionate glance and boyish smile before swishing around the rest of his coffee in his now half empty cup. by 12:41 a.m., london and jongin have reached a park just outside of the vicinity of her flat — is that how the british say it? — and his eyelids have already begun to endure the gravity of exhaustion. still, he doesn’t quite let the night end. it was only some four or five hours ago that they were seated side by side in a theater located in the heart of seoul. then, it was coffee, then self-deprecating jokes on the train, and now, the park.

but he feels like he shouldn’t let it end. the evening air feels vanilla under the yellow street lights, but even jongin has to admit that london is anything but.

“i thought maybe you would? you’re a writer and all — it’s one of my favorite stories,” he jests, taking a sip from his now cold cup. “makes baum’s the wonderful wizard of oz seem like a bunch of horse crap.”

a playground comes into view. “ever tried jumping off a swing? you’ve got to have.” setting his cup on the floor, he approaches a pair of swings with recently replaced chains, then holds out in a rather chivalrous fashion, her seat.

then, a glance at his watch. 12:52. there was always something about wicked hours that made his heart sink.

[themaninthegreenshirt]

When I look up, I see people cashing in. I don’t see heaven or saints or angels. I see people cashing in on every decent impulse and every human tragedy.

Joseph Heller, Catch-22 (via themaninthegreenshirt)

[hpjsehun-blog]

—floating to nowhere

@hpjongin​ ,

the midday summer sun beat on and the boys wandered, staying safe under the shade of the tree-lined street. an inordinate amount of independent art galleries littered the area and sehun squinted at every artist’s name as they passed an exhibition. although sehun made art himself, the whole art world as an institution and industry and history confused the hell out of him. he told jongin he was interested in coming to this area, but he suddenly regretted it when he realized he knew jackshit about how to talk about art.

they entered one gallery and sehun took a cursory glance around the main space. it seemed to be a mixed collection of artists. the art was nice, he guessed. nothing really stood out to him yet. at the tinkling of the bell above the door, the receptionist glanced up at them and smiled as an acknowledgement before returning to her computer. sehun smiled back awkwardly before approaching a random painting near the back. mostly it just looked like a bunch of squares* to him, and he wondered if he was missed something. he stared at it dumbly for a while, before saying, “look, jongin. i could’ve painted this.”

he snickered a bit and crossed his arms. “bet one of my pieces could sell for more than this.”

[hpjongin]

to be completely honest, jongin seems to bear more interest in merely watching sehun carry himself about than in the artwork around him. it’s a rare occurrence, especially since jongin is a bit of an art history snob, but sehun in a gallery is just so amusing. even the unwieldy smile he throws the receptionist has jongin stifling a snort. maybe it’s because he’s so gangly...

“yeah, well you didn’t do it first.” he recalls a fellow student saying the exact same thing sehun just did in his art history class, some three years ago. “mondrian did. and i bet one of yours could; this is probably fake. don’t know how an independent art gallery in south korea would’ve gotten their hands on a de stijl piece.”

then, a step back. “sorry, am i getting too snobby? we should have a safe word or something. to let each other know.” he chortles and stuffs his hands into his back pockets before resuming his gait around the gallery.

it’s quiet for a bit, until jongin picks up his whispery art gallery voice again: “god, i’m really more of a famous public art museum type of person. does it ever just feel uncomfortable to you in these places?”

[brbcrawlingtokorea]

ㅠ ^ ㅠ  

[hpjsuranbaby-blog]

( BODYACHE )

[hpjongin]

hpjsuran:

( ... )

“where else would i go if not home, huh?” she huffs, locking gazes for a flicker of a second (eyes narrowed, it doesn’t take much to convey her displeasure with the turn of events) slamming the door perhaps a touch too hard. 

“downtown, if this hunk of junk can even go that far.” 

christ, she’s rude. “a thanks for giving me a ride would’ve been nice. or, you know, a hello.”

although, to be fair, all jongin himself has to offer is a roll of his eyes. and maybe a little bit of pity for the goosebumps that surely must be rising on her skin; his car did have the unfortunate flaw of a faulty heater.

still yet, he takes no offense at her comment, and in fact chooses willfully to ignore it — it is, after all, a hunk of junk, as suran so gracefully puts it. but it’s his dark green, faulty heater, two-door hunk of junk. “fancy a song?” jongin can’t seem to stifle a chuckle: she probably doesn’t, but he starts anyway, just to keep her mouth shut for as maximal of an amount of time as possible. and, perhaps, just to annoy her. following a loud, rather obnoxious yawn, he switches the gear out of park and into drive, right hand rested leisurely on the wheel, left elbow atop the center compartment.

“what do you like? trashy pop? you seem the type.” he shuffles around for a cassette and slips it into the player: the steady four-beat pluck of a guitar. “rhiannon, fleetwood mac. 1975. my dad made this tape for me when i was, uh, like nine or ten. he was really into old american music.” the crack of a smile, then he throws a glance her way. “suppose that’s what being the son of a general does to you.”

a cough. seoul’s lights, however late, seemed relentless in shining on their faces. “anyway, i wouldn’t really be surprised if you weren’t headed home. maybe you’ve got another dick to please — i wouldn’t know. that’s why i asked.”

[hpjongin]

* DOG YEARS ,

[hpjongin]

hpjskip:

Skip really likes Jongin. Even though he sometimes treats Skip like he’s ten years younger than him rather than a measly two — noogies and all — he thoroughly enjoys his company. He’s witty, he’s intelligent, and he’s super cool. And really, what else do you need?

He can’t help the grin on his lips throughout Jongin’s spiel about his missed connection, gangly elbows resting on countertop. The smile only doubles in size with the proposition of a wild night out. 

“Oh yeah, definitely!” He took a beat, eyes moving to peek through the door at his mother, who was currently making idle chatter with a few departing customers. “…I mean… she doesn’t need to know?” He shrugged, pulling a dirtied dishrag off of his shoulder and tossing it onto the counter beside him. “You had me at dive bar, dude.” 

Skip has never been one for passing up an opportunity to get himself involved in some mess.

“jeez, i was just teasing you. what are you, twenty-one now? still have to get mom’s permission to have a beer?” it’s just more teasing, of course, but also somewhat genuine on jongin’s part. important to remember: all in good spirit. jongin proceeds to pull his windbreaker on over his shoulder and flatten out the wrinkles with his palms before slipping each respective appendage into the front pockets of his trousers.

he also lets skip be the first to head out the door. immediately, the cool summer evening air kisses their cheeks. despite the relatively late hours, the street is anything but quiet — good for slipping through with minimal call to attention.

inside the bar, the air is stale, yet comfortingly so. the clink of glass and clack of billiard balls only reinforce the kind of unspoken quality in the air that attests to leisure and levity. “i’m going to grab a wheat beer. do you want anything?”

[hpjsj-blog]

she sees his face and nothingness at the same time. two am and too many glasses of soju has her in fragments, feelings outstretched in so many directions she’s succeeded in losing herself in her own mind. grasping hands pull on one thread of emotion; heels follow, and she’s at jongin’s doorstep before she can make sense of it all. (not that they make sense these days, but it’s beside the point now.)

four explanations on the tip of her tongue — poor excuses, all of them — but instead she says: “let’s drink!” and doesn’t wait for his response. because she doesn’t need one, really; not when he’s so suited to bending for her, just like she does for him. which is they’re both here now, wine-hazy and side-by-side, her head on his shoulder because it’s too heavy for her hands. she blinks slow, knocks the rim of her glass on her teeth, and drinks it clean.

“i shouldn’t be here, i know.” it’s a sombre fact, but she’s grinning anyway. one of those grins that aren’t grins — the ones he’s familiar with, because he’s kissed them so often. “but the ahjumma that runs that food stall by your place asked me today why we hadn’t been there together in a while. i should’ve told her we weren’t together anymore, but instead i told her we’d be there on friday. i couldn’t disappoint her like that, you know?” as if she doesn’t carry disappointment in her blood; as if she hasn’t left him hungry one too many times.

“but i can leave. if you want me to.”

she shifts; tilts her head and looks at him with glass eyes, misty little smile. “should i, jongin?”

déjà vu @hpjongin​, june ‘17

[hpjongin]

when jung soojung shows up at his door — long, dark hair, deep brown eyes and all — he doesn’t blink twice before moving aside, caving, letting her in. even at such an ungodly hour. by now, he’s gotten to figure that taking things seriously is a serious waste of time, but for some reason it takes all the restraint in his body to bridle the urge to bleed; he’s got about a million things to talk to her about, but their own way is a thousand times more confined.

though, important to note: jongin was still at the age where he could fall in love with a girl over an expression, over a gesture. and every time, without fail, that’s what happened. soojung — she presses her cheek against his shoulder and he could feel his heart fly out his own ribcage.

that jongin could grant his forgiveness with wine, yet at the same time predict forgiveness’s recession in her inevitable absence, was a trade attributed solely to the unbridled man. but from his lips fall cheers, the sound of a plastic cup against a cheap wood table ( “sorry. we’re not exactly in the financial position to buy wine glasses.” ).

jesus christ, she knows the answer. soojung, in his head, the devil’s wife. he looks at her when she looks at him, keeps her eyes with an unusually even-tempered countenance.

“you’re cruel.” dark eyes wander down the bend of her nose, the curve of her lips, before meeting again with her own. “why would you ask me that when you already know the answer? just to hear me say it? have you that much in you to hurt me?”