half a face, half a memory

water halfway turned to mist, never quite sustainable, never without the glass-glaze of possession oc rp account. literate and selective.

[hykatsu]

▬ 。。。▬ 。▬ ▬ 。/ ▰ ▱ ➝ profile / notes

[mirrorsinner]

[somebodytodiefor]

''Does this camera follow the face?'' (Kai in Paris ʕ ◕ᴥ◕ ʔ)

[hykatsu]

sender draws a smiley face out of the blood they spilled :)

katsu stands there and lets the silence stretch for as long as physics permits it. if he could will the ozone layer and the entire force of gravity to drop on them at this very moment, he would do so with an abundance of violence and an overarching amount of glee. not even god would mistake who brought down the layers of the earth. that is how badly he wishes to connect his fist with one park chanyeol’s face.

choose peace, katsu, and he takes in a gulp of air and swallows it down, eyelids fluttering shut to will, will, by sheer force of fucking will, to forget about the caricature now smeared across his car’s front.  how did he get here again? his memory is all bleary; fog collects between the crevices, hiding the line from him whenever he tried to reach for a recount. did he even ask chanyeol to come all the way out here? that slant in his memory is so fucking disparaging, he truly might start pulling his hair off.

. . .does he also have something on his face that blares “all idiots are welcome!”?

peace. i choose peace.  he chooses ice-cream. he makes a full turn towards the other direction and makes a beeline for the baby blue awning with the lovely neon swirl sign on top, pulling his suit jacket all the way towards proper and buttoning it up to hide the blooming red stain on his stomach. he smiles at the attendant, all teeth and good humor, and requests the biggest cup; add the waffle cone, and as many scoops of mango sorbet that they could fit into it. the wound on his stomach begins to itch something fierce as the mending commences.

the sorbet is phenomenal.

[hykatsu]

" it's a good look on you. you should get covered in blood more often. "

byun baekhyun was not born a bad guy. first, he doesn’t have the face for it. he looks like a whale bypassed him through its entire gastric tract and rebuffed him right back out to the seawater with bits and pieces of chum and sardines, only to swiftly decompose into an amalgamation of fish shit and seagull bile. fuck him.

second, there are some days that there’s a universe’s worth of negative space around him. chasms the size of galaxies. vacuity made flesh, made monster, made itself something entirely of its own, spitting on all laws of conservation of mass and entropy. katsu has to hand it to the guy, though, and he will be taking this one to the grave or cut his tongue out—whichever comes first; but baekhyun is always stupidly well-dressed. where the fuck does he even get that cut of suit in korea? and who else wears shoes fifty years out of style in public like that, confident enough to not give a single shit about it? katsu really hates him. annoying little undying shit.

but the truth is, no one is born rancid as soon as they pop out of the womb, not even katsu himself. a lot of it had to do with the luck of choices, the overriding unpredictability of consequences and thereafter all those putrid details about circumstance. baekhyun’s innate blankness sometimes appeals to katsu’s very lizard brain, because isn’t just all of it…too much, sometimes? where does it all end, the further they go about streaking the back alleys with bloody red? how many of these shirts does katsu have to throw out to make a decent dent into his bank account?

katsu would really like to not straighten himself to his full height just yet. he leans pliant and heavy against the concrete wall of the little pork restaurant and heaves a sigh dredged up from very pits of his intestines. he hadn’t meant to take a crack at the guy’s face with so much strength. katsu realized it a millisecond too late, and the veering would never come, and he burst that man’s head like a balloon full of thick and hot paint. he doesn’t want to check, but he’s fairly certain that there are pieces of brain and skull on his cheeks. fuck.

“you can’t keep quiet for two fucking seconds, can you? here—” katsu says, dragging already bloodied fingertips across his forehead and down his cheek to pick up enough to flick it all at baekhyun’s stupid, idiot, unchanging face. the raw satisfaction that sat on his chest when the piece of something gooey, disgusting, hits him square on the nose makes him snort, “—have a snack. now stop saying stupid shit.”

[obstrict]

@hykatsu:

(...) but when fate likes to prey upon his chains, katsu can expect an overwhelming amount of hurt coming his way, in knives or guns, or a quip well-aimed straight to his chest. so it turned out that after the clash and the subsequent clean up, and the settlement of the new order, katsu realized that he had still quite a lot of housekeeping to do. chiefly among them being finding out what this guy was doing, all the way out here, scoping the boundaries of his territory. “i forget about you every time you leave,” katsu says, mildly still, wiping off the thick red coating his hands on a small towel he had draped over his left shoulder. the kneeling, almost faceless man sounds off in a pathetic whine. “last week had been the same, right? you just have bad timing. maybe knock on the door next time?” once katsu wipes away enough blood from his palms to see some skin, he returns the towel to his shoulder and straightens the wrinkles from his dress-shirt (rather useless endeavor, that one; it’s white and it’s all smeared crimson on the front) as he heads for the side door. katsu beckons zero to follow him anyway, saying, “we need to talk.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

The blood hadn’t bothered him, neither the stench nor the smear of it dripping off Katsu’s fingertips, soaking deep into the towel still slung across his shoulder like some twisted badge of office. What caught his attention, instead, was the way the other had said it, calm and unhurried, as if they hadn’t just locked eyes over a carpet still wet with someone’s dying breath.

We need to talk.

Right.

Zero’s gaze lingered a beat too long on the towel, then flicked up to meet Katsu’s eyes with the kind of silence that left too much unsaid. He took a step forward, then another. Not fast or cautious, just simply inevitable.

“Didn’t think you were the type to clean up your own mess,” he uttered, gaze flickering briefly to the tinge of crimson that clung to Katsu’s knuckles. “Guess I was wrong.”

No smile, no smirk. Just merely the flat kind of observation that could either be respect or threat. His steps didn’t falter as he closed the distance, stopping only once as he was at Katsu’s side. Closer now. Near enough that if the other turned too sharply, they might brush shoulders. Zero didn’t give him the chance.

“If you’ve got something to say,” he added, voice low and dry like ash as he walked through the door that’d been motioned towards. “Say it while I’m still in the mood to listen.”

[hykatsu]

he does find that quip rather humorous, although he disallows the moment to distend further into a familiar set-up. zero isn’t the first to admit to that prejudice. probably will not be the last, either, once the next friend or rather impolite guest decides to echo that idea. must be all those messages katsu is so fond of sending; those severed fingers attached to handwritten notes that have become so distinctly him and his way of doing things.  but katsu is, unbelievably so, rather high up on the clean-freak scale. he just likes the muck sometimes. like a well-fed and indolent pig in the outdoors on a very hot day, endlessly enticed to roll around in the first mud puddle he can find to cool down.

katsu unconsciously rubs his index finger and thumb together, smearing the viscous liquid along the ridges of nails and the valleys of his fingerprints, thinking on the fact that the proximity  zero established doesn’t bother him. rather, it’s interesting. katsu is used to the balking; to people cowing under the weight of his presence even when he hadn’t intended to occupy the surrounding space. if not that, then there should have been an impulsive recoil, as though something in katsu appealed to some baser survival instinct that’s difficult to describe. yet zero seems… unrepentant, in that sense. well, in a sense katsu could attempt to define, if there was any meaning to be found. something in that makes the palms of his hands itch.

“i’d appreciate it,” katsu starts as he takes a seat on the comfortable chair he keeps in this little sad excuse for an office. it is bereft of everything except for that seat and a simple desk. he crosses his legs at the ankles and rests his hands on his stomach, the left on top of the right; slouched against the backrest, “if you could watch your tongue while you’re here. i do not give a fuck about your mood, boy. grow a pair.”

there’s not a trace of offense nor malice in that. katsu can’t measure thoughts and intentions, but he can measure the time it takes for the words to hang aimlessly in the open, staring at zero like the other would dissipate into thin air if he doesn’t tether him in place. katsu’s lips quirk in ill-restrained humor, acquiescing into a comment, “you’re tough to find, you know. i know your mood is just ripe for the listening.”

“i’m going to need you to explain, clearly or vaguely, why are you still skulking around this city. are you on retainer to someone we know? should i start keeping an eye on your leash?”

[obstrict]

@hykatsu

The corridor stank of stale smoke and slipped bourbon, that sharp, chemical tang that clung to bad choices and bodies dragged too far. The air was much tighter here, humming with fluorescent fatigue, somewhere in the veins of the casino. Not meant for players or pleasure, but for those that needed exits that didn’t come with questions.

His boots struck marble in long, measured strides. Not rushed, just precise. The briefcase bounced once against the flat of his back, full of weight that no longer mattered. The deal had fell through the moment they placed the fake bills down onto the table like he wouldn’t notice. One lie was spewed, two glances were exchanged, and a weapon shifted where it shouldn’t have been. Zero had killed one. Maybe two. The rest didn’t scatter — they followed. No finesse, just footsteps louder than the low bass of the casino floor.

They were close now.

He felt them.

He took a sharp turn around the corner, a side corridor toward the service exit, then his shoulder slammed into someone. The impact was sharp and jarring, the kind of full-bodied contact that never should have happened. It stopped him dead in his tracks. The force bit straight through him, the briefcase jolting hard against his spine, a hiss of breath caught low in his throat. He stepped back on instinct, boot dragging against the tile, already reaching for the blade beneath his coat.

Zero met his gaze, the world narrowed. A slow, silent drag of seconds passed between them. He wasn’t one of the men tailing him. He wasn’t part of the deal. He didn’t belong to the pursuit or the escape, and yet, something in the way the hallway dimmed around him said otherwise. Like the casino bent differently when he was near, like the air had chosen sides.

He didn’t wait to see which side it picked. Instead, Zero broke from the stare and moved, slipping past the man he had just bumped into with barely a brush of contact, his coat flaring behind him as he pushed down the hall. The footsteps were closing in now, louder and angrier. No more silence, no more shadows. It was motion now, his body slipping through the casino’s underbelly like a blade tearing through a soft cloth. Behind him, the air felt scored by the weight of that gaze — not stopping him, not saving him, just watching. And yet somehow, even as the voices surged and the chase narrowed in, something told him he hadn’t quite left that presence behind. Not entirely.

He couldn’t shake off one thought: Who the hell was that guy?

[hykatsu]

he has to do something about that smell if he’s going to have to increase the frequency of his visits for the next three months. he may be widely known as a fiend and a mongrel, but if he had to wear those titles as well as the rest of his overarching badges of honor, then he will do so cleanly, goddammit. katsu had never understood it. was it a necessary segment to this life? to have everything reeking like a crime scene? to keep the concrete and the paint and the tile wafting up something vile at every turn?

. . . heaven is here, in this place, isn’t it? katsu chuckles low and private, turning that thought over, and over, and over; suddenly recalling with unerring clarity how the week prior he had to. . . release a handful of his personnel, when they proved to be inadequate for the job.

inadequate. let it never be said that katsu never gave fair warning. and may it never prove untrue that, after another one of the guys had keeled over rather pathetically right next to the case of freshly-swiped methadone, katsu had to tack on a massive neon colored note to the metal door with a gnarled screw in the middle that said please stop fucking in the storage room with a post-script right underneath: there is a bullet with your name on it if you touch the cases. and so release, yes, and its multiplicity of meanings; how each and every one of them convey utmost sincerity, if it slips off the tongue just right. heaven in the brambles and lurid drops of blood freefalling from the spines.

the thought continues to trail katsu as he shoulders past the door that reveals the path towards the tail-end of the building. it’s one of the many, many promenades available for his guests and for himself— if one could avoid the thousand silent eyes, of course. those eyes, in fact, are what spurred him to saunter down this particular way on this particular moment in time. or, vying for increased specificity, the utterly lack thereof.

the annoyingly luminescent lights of the corridors flicker as he cruises beneath them and he wonders, very briefly, if the noise he’s starting to hear should bother him or excite him. regardless of where that stray bubble lands, his pacing remains steady—even steps carrying him somewhere even further down the bowels of his little pet project.

business as usual. ‘business’, as it usually goes, with that fucking stench permeating the edges of it and that commotion of the parade that’s crawling through the ancillary hallway. . . towards him?

katsu walks, keeps sauntering, and the racket coalesces into an array of shapes in the backseat of the shadows; and then he turns the corner, braced for impact, and the unknown resolves into a bodily shunt that frankly had him pacing back three steps.

the man that presents himself does not possess a face he knows. it sort of rankles him, deeply and recklessly. the swift intensity of the feeling encapsulates the oxygen around him as he veers his sight straight into the stranger’s eyes, thereafter taking immediate stock of his appearance; the sway of his uneven stance turning solid in a second; the near impulsive reaching of his arm somewhere to the side. was that instinctive or trained?

of that thing he’s carrying on his back; of the footfalls pressing in towards both of them. ah, i see, he thinks, maintaining the sightline even as the stranger breaks away. katsu muses that he might have an idea now about the current state of affairs. he hazards as much when he steps off to lean against the wall to allow the artificial light wash over the additional two currently on their hunt, permitting their frank passage. he watches them as well, though they hadn’t quite centered on him like the one presumably escaping.

dragging in a slow, slow inhale into his mouth, katsu taps at the earpiece in his left ear connecting him to the small device latched onto the band of his slacks.

on the exhale, he digs into his jacket for his pack of cigarettes. as he lights one, the static crackles. to that, he mutters, “could we shut the doors from the northeast? don’t bother the first one, but stop the other two. i have a few questions.” and starts off towards all three, fully expecting to run into them, once they hit the end of the line.

he really has to do something about the stench down here. perhaps he could hang a couple of bodies up against the walls, a nail dug into each palm and all fingers cut.

[unpr0mpted]

blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! a collection of icky, bloody prompts for those who like to choose violence. actions are reversible. general warning for blood, violence, murder, death.

𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :

" that's a lot of blood. "

" it isn't mine. "

" what did you do ? "

[ sigh ] " what did you do ? "

" come on. have a taste. "

" holy shit, are you okay ? "

" it looks worse than it feels. "

" you should see the other guy. "

" it's a good look on you. you should get covered in blood more often. "

" lean on me. "

" oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck ? is that what i fucking think it is ? "

" . . . gross. "

[ standing over a body ] " oops. "

" is that a fucking body ? "

" look, i'm sorry, okay ? "

" what the hell happened ? "

" before you say anything, it wasn't me. "

" at least it wasn't me this time. "

" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you pretend it isn't. "

" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you wish it wasn't. "

" i'm not scared of you. "

" you don't scare me. "

" shut up and let me help you. "

" i got your shirt all bloody. "

" let's get you cleaned up. "

" that looks like it hurts. "

" i'm fine, just. . . give me a minute. "

" we are so fucked. "

" what the fuck is wrong with you ? "

" are you gonna help me clean it up or not ? "

" the fucker deserved it. "

" red looks good on you. "

" what the hell did you do ; tap - dance all over the body with ice - skates ? "

" what, did you run over the body with your car a couple times after ? "

" i. . . i didn't mean to. . . "

" sorry. fuck, i'm sorry. "

" this isn't what it looks like. "

" it was an accident. "

" motherfucker ran right into my knife, i swear. "

" people need to look both ways before crossing. . . bullets. "

" would you believe me if i said wrong place, wrong time ? "

" hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay ? "

" they deserved it, right ? please tell me they deserved it. "

" you're bleeding. "

" what the fuck happened to you ? "

" you're getting blood on the carpet. "

" sit down before you fall down. "

" that looks like a you problem. "

𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :

sender spits out a mouthful of blood at receiver's feet

sender spits out a mouthful of blood on receiver

receiver finds sender covered in blood

sender tries desperately to stop receiver's bleeding

sender helps receiver clean up after a kill

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with a washcloth

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with their thumb

sender licks receiver's blood off a knife

sender licks receiver's blood off their thumb

sender lights up a cigarette a foot away from someone they killed before offering one to receiver

receiver finds sender stood over a body

sender stitches up receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]

sender digs their finger into receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]

sender frantically checks receiver for injuries under all the blood

sender guides receiver's bloody hands under a faucet / water source and begins washing them clean

sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood

sender tilts receiver's head back to staunch a nosebleed

sender draws a smiley face out of the blood they spilled :)

receiver finds sender cleaning up a kill in a daze

sender looks receiver in the eye as they shoot / stab / kill someone

sender ruffles receiver's hair, getting blood all over their hand

sender gets some of receiver's blood on them and makes a face

sender flicks blood at receiver to annoy them

sender stomps in a pool of blood to splash it on receiver

sender slips in their victim's blood but receiver steadies them before they can fall

sender steadies receiver when they slip in the blood sender spilled

receiver comes home to sender covered in blood and waiting for them with all the lights off

sender spits out a tooth and it hits receiver

sender tries to wipe blood off receiver but the blood on their hands just makes it worse

sender takes an injury meant for receiver

sender shows up on receiver's doorstep covered in blood

sender sits down quietly next to receiver after receiver kills someone

sender punches receiver in the mouth

receiver watches sender lick the blood off their fingers like its cheeto dust

sender helps receiver bury a body

sender hugs receiver just to get their victim's blood all over them <3

sender hugs receiver just to get their blood all over them <3

sender leans on receiver for support

sender kills someone to protect receiver

receiver finds sender in a frenzy maiming a body after they've already killed it

sender kills someone and the blood spatters on receiver

receiver finds sender desperately trying to wash the blood off of themself

sender kisses receiver to taste the blood on their busted lip

sender shoots / stabs receiver non - fatally as a warning

[hykatsu]

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

it’s not like those doors can prevent certain individuals from visiting, yeah? it’s not like his men and all those circumferential additions to the rather bolstered array of security would’ve been able to stop this single guy from pummeling his way in, if he had wanted to; if that was the mood he was in, when he had sauntered all the way up to the center office behind all the dreck and flashy machinery, just to burst in on katsu halfway through wiping some blood off of his cheek seconds after caving another man’s face in.

“. . .what?” katsu says, lightly, stopped in his tracks as the stranger on his knees in front of him garbles something wet in his mouth—probably from all that bleeding he’s doing, as he’s spitting out teeth and maybe piece of his tongue. shit. that will be a hassle to clean off the carpet.

the room's rather dark and its occupants are rather feral. a guy from the primary defense line looms at the southeastern corner of the room with a gun drawn, though he had not raised it to point at their visitor. most of those who matter within those red walls know that making the trek up does not happen by way of an accident, or force.

this guy. the guy at the door. what was his name again? katsu steps back a few feet from his task to assess the guy, the probable asshole, from head to toe and back to the head again. déjà vu was slow to incline its heavy head, but when it did… ah, yes. katsu remembers now.

another motherfucker, surely, that’s all they are down here. wretched and shitty. it had been weeks since the conditions of their meeting had changed how katsu managed his newest acquisition, after all that fuss and wars he put up to wrestle it out of the powers that be in the outskirts of seoul. newest, because on the night that a corridor became a narrow space between two unknowns and a pair of very angry knowns, katsu had just about gathered everything he had needed to know about him.

which is: he is someone. which is: there is a shine to his eyes when there was no light source at around ten-feet. which is: this is the idiot that had brought one of the most secluded portions of the mafia right at his doorstep, on the night katsu had slammed all his cards on the fucking table and shot their leader point blank while he stared him down, and katsu hadn’t been sure whether to put a bullet in his brain or to give him a million won. thanks to him, to the distraction he had created, katsu won the round with a lot less lost; with more brothers and sons available to run the full breath of the place. it was all his, now.

but when fate likes to prey upon his chains, katsu can expect an overwhelming amount of hurt coming his way, in knives or guns, or a quip well-aimed straight to his chest. so it turned out that after the clash and the subsequent clean up, and the settlement of the new order, katsu realized that he had still quite a lot of housekeeping to do. chiefly among them being finding out what this guy was doing, all the way out here, scoping the boundaries of his territory.

“i forget about you every time you leave,” katsu says, mildly still, wiping off the thick red coating his hands on a small towel he had draped over his left shoulder. the kneeling, almost faceless man sounds off in a pathetic whine. “last week had been the same, right? you just have bad timing. maybe knock on the door next time?”

once katsu wipes away enough blood from his palms to see some skin, he returns the towel to his shoulder and straightens the wrinkles from his dress-shirt (rather useless endeavor, that one; it’s white and it’s all smeared crimson on the front) as he heads for the side door. katsu beckons zero to follow him anyway, saying, “we need to talk.”

[hykatsu]

@eterneli; "I prefer the latter, in case you were wondering."

baekyun will never, ever change, will he? not for himself, not for a belief, not even for fate, katsu guesses. he is not surpised. a decade must’ve felt ridiculous on his snarky friend, even if it felt like an entire stretch of white on white to katsu. just a long, long winding stream of never-ending days hastily sewn together into a franken-esque timeline.

the cold has never been an element that exists to katsu, either, even if he pretends that it does; that he often plays at curling in on himself a fraction for the show, muscle tension accruing in increments anywhere between his back and his legs; that for a veneer of something-human, some-thing logical, katsu would pretend to play at most things with unerring precision, if the risk did not outweigh the desired returns. so katsu bows his spine just a smidge when the wind takes a crack at them, and throws a not-so-heated glower at that motherfucker with the stupid square mouth.

the taunts slides off of his skin like melting snowflakes—here for a split second, inexistent in the next. katsu presses the lukewarm bottle that’s sweating the very last bits of its condensation against the heat of his forehead, and lets the drops sliver down the arch of his brow, down the length of the cartilage of his nose; smiling, bitingly, at the sheer adamancy of the boy that refuses to let up the fiasco, right when he breaches the silence for the second time, a third time.

it is supremely funny to him how friendship fits like a glove between them. it’s perhaps the one indisputable fact that’s made him come back, over and over, with increasingly more idiotic insults to throw at him just to see which one of them would stick; that they somehow forget to be strangers despite the chasm of time and distance. how all of that and them defies a lot of established science. but…that’s not a very important aspect to have, really.

perhaps it’s the centuries of lives that baekhyun has had to live; that from each and every one of those lives the ageless boy has gleaned a sliver of something that coaxes familiarity, a thing that tells the other standing—or sitting, in this case—that they’ve already seen this before.

it fits right like the almost-empty bottle in katsu’s hand, so pleasantly rigged with so much drug that the taste had turned tacky— not that it would have stopped him from downing it regardless. the experience of drinking it was just worsened, is all, but the effects of the drug gradually kicking in would make rights out of that in about three minutes flat.

“i’d take you up on the offer but i don’t like taking shit from people that stand about one foot tall.” the bottle stays where it is against his forehead, though at feeling that fool’s sight set on him, katsu turns ever so slightly to meet it straight on. the fucker smirks. katsu mirrors it right back to him. “if i drink your blood, you’re going to curse me into being short. i’d rather eat shit, or might as well eat a grenade. and for the time i’ll be without a form, i’ll be at your ear, being the world’s most annoying fly that you can’t kill until you give me three bottles more of whatever this shit is.”

[eterneli]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤbyun baekhyun. sommalier & street racer pureblood vampire.

                                        —  i.    ii.   iii. — ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤest 2013.

Jules, she/her, 28, corporate slave — which means replies when I have the time.

Probably won’t follow (back) if you write smut on dash, personal preference :)

I’m old in the tumblr rp scene and the only rule I have is: please be of age!

Here for some good writing and fun times. If you ever want to plot, just message me! Original blog here.

[obstrict]

⌈ beyond the barrier lies a light as cold as you can imagine.                                                                      if you can imagine. ⌋

one. two. three.

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

( this is basically just a very self indulgent list of various fluff, angst, and suggestive themed dialogue sentence starters. )

❛ i could keep you safe. they’re all afraid of me. ❜

❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜ 

❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜

❛ come back to bed. ❜

❛ you look good like this. ❜

❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜

❛ how is it you always know what i need, huh? ❜

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜ 

❛ i can’t imagine losing someone like that. i’m sorry. ❜

❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜

❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜

❛ so, what do i owe this pleasure? ❜

❛ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❜

❛ may i have this dance? ❜ 

❛ it’s okay, you can touch me. i won't break. ❜

❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜

❛ we can't keep doing this. ❜ 

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜

❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜

❛ thought you’d be lighter without all that blood. ❜

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜

❛ everything looks so beautiful from up here. ❜

❛ you treat all your ladies like this? ❜

❛ well? how do i look? ❜

❛ can’t sleep? ❜

❛ do you mind if i smoke? ❜

❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜

❛ you are losing my interest, and that’s very dangerous. ❜

❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜

❛ i’ve never cared for anyone the way i care for you. ❜

❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜

❛ just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new. ❜

❛ i’d say we make a pretty good team. ❜

❛ i want you to forget this ever happened. ❜

❛ i'm here for business — not pleasure. ❜

❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜

❛ you'd look better down on your knees. ❜

❛ fine, keep acting like you hate me. ❜

❛ kiss me again. ❜

❛ are you asking me out on a date? ❜

❛ just sit there and look pretty and let me handle this. ❜

❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜

❛ well, i do feel better now that you're here. ❜

❛ i'm not drunk enough for this. ❜ 

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

❛ i was wrong about you. ❜ 

❛ the first time i met you, i had no idea you'd mean this much. ❜

❛ you gonna be a good girl / boy for me? ❜

❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜

❛ books mean more to me than people anyway. ❜

❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜

❛ how about a kiss goodnight? ❜

❛ i don’t have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜ 

❛ if i have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode. ❜

[somebodytodiefor]

Kai ☆ Twitter Update 250413

[terragro-deactivated20240814]

eyes in the dark, bright white alien lights. some flowers bloom with moonlight, floating in reverie.

days since gritting my jaw and swallowing my teeth: 0/11,126

my heart is a neutron star, and my hunger could fill a galaxy

i will try to learn tranquility. i will try to find peace. i will sample it like a succulent, ripened peach; that flushed succor. suck on the juice, trail it clean from every finger. down my wrists and forearms, across scars from ages past. i will run my tongue over my chin to savor that last, sweet taste.

the plan: to connect. to be connected. root systems simply one massive organism, like pando. nothing for miles around but life, purity. to not worry about those peering through my windows, heavy with judgement; to stop soaking their judgement in like a desperate sponge.

to let the want through my body sing that heat under my skin, to not feel shame in simple pleasures. pleasure is human, to desire is human.

my life (i will waste it no longer) will be enjoyed, and savored

[hykatsu]

( 思想 ) ➝ how we’ve given guilt a home here, how we’ve set out a chair for death

[kailogia]

Be more concerned with your character than your reputation.