kim namjoon.

male, twenty-one. mage, in training.

[cckento]

the little shit // open feast event

Yonghwa is a little shit, but at least he’s not a cruel one. He wants to zoom through the challenge because he’s starving and doesn’t have time to send people on scavenger hunts or perform complicated feats. They’re all starving and he wants to get through this hellish game as quickly as possible. He’s laying on his stomach with his chin propped up in his hands, legs kicking behind him out of habit without his tail.

“I’ll pick something really easy, okay?” he said. He struggles to think of something short and sweet that wouldn’t be too obvious of an attempt to whiz through the game. Yonghwa didn’t want to think about the possible consequences if someone was caught cheating. The merman chews on his lips as he considered his options, then burst into giggles when he finally thought of a desire he can enjoy.

“You have three options,” he said, holding back laughter, “You can either entertain me, spoil me, or flatter me.” He snorts in an attempt to stifle back laughter, then forces his face into a serious expression. “In fact, you can do all three in a row if you would like to chow down on a bunch of food until it’s my turn.”

He held up his index finger, interrupting his own train of thought.

“But, you have to keep going until I’m satisfied. It’s not fair if you do a half-assed job, but I have to do really well on my turn. Deal? Go on ahead, I’m waiting.”

The cheeky little merman grinned, but was that a slight blush in his cheeks? He’d always been a sucker for being treated like a little diva – er, king. Yonghwa hopes that the other players don’t think he’s serious with his requests, even if he’s secretly dying of anticipation. Finally. Time for people to kiss his ass.

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

     It wasn’t like he had thought things would be getting any simpler, after escaping his struggle in the forest’s twisted euphoric path. That much he knew and expected, and that much he could deal with; but this new challenge testing his dependency on others in order to feed himself—now that just wasn’t right, and Namjoon felt a foreboding feeling, growing worried that he might not be able to satiate his hunger at all, if it meant he’d have to exchange his ultimate submission to others’ whims.

     So his attention is caught by the flitting movement of a stranger’s legs, the ‘easy’ in his words, and the bubbling of his mirthful laughter. All enough to have Namjoon look him over in interest, asking again, from above the other’s form, as he approaches him casually, “Something easy?” He didn’t mind doing things for other people, but it was when orders breached beyond his control that he became uncomfortable with answering to anyone other than the average person. As he leans next to the man, skin of an arm grazing the bark of a tree, he’s looking down into a face reading of softness in skin, and he’s drastically hoping that the effortless glow of the other’s smile keeps with what he’s about to propose next. But it doesn’t. Of course it wouldn’t. The night was free reign to any and every being who chose to exploit it, after all.

     “That’s not easy,” and in a poor attempt at damage control, for fear of spurning what actually might be the plainest request made between all of the people here, should the other take offense, he continues right after, “No.  .  . words could do you justice.” It happened. He did it, and he can’t help it when the loose grip he had on his own wrist tightens self-consciously, the embarrassment of having delivered such a weak remark catching up to his senses. Namjoon glances away, only bringing his eyes back to the other’s mischievous pair when the resilience to do better becomes encouraged by another sharp tang within his stomach. He coughs, licking his lips, sliding slowly down the tree until he’s on his haunches next to the man, and says in a low tone, against the contrast of the gentleness in his volume, “No.  .  .  efforts that I make.  .  . could be enough.” He really was trying his best. “Not when there’s so much to appreciate in so little time.  .  .” People were complex; flattery can only be taken so far and honestly as first meetings allowed.

     A pink tint on his cheeks to match—to get the entire ordeal over with, he’ll make it just as easy. “Now you.”

[mthminseok-blog]

busker. | open

“You you know what would really go with a feast?” The corners of Jongdae’s lips turned upward, revealing his Cheshire cat smile. “Music.” He figured he wouldn’t be asking for much, really. It was an easy task to fulfill.

“Can anyone makeshift a musical instrument? Or have any song requests?” 

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

the rustling of the trees’ leaves intermingle with the confusion of the forest’s inhabitants, buzzing, providing a not so pleasant background to the evening’s festivities. so this man’s offer—a promise of a quick melody to combat the symphony of namjoon’s own growling stomach and hungry sighs—causes his lips to turn up at the corners, readily and contentedly forming the words of his request, until he’s stopped by the sight of gnarled flesh, raw and pink and in need of relief, on the other’s body.                                                                                             “how can you can think about music with that there?”

      his brows furrow.  “it doesn’t hurt?” 

[kwongrey-deactivated20160110]

our tune again | open

[kwongrey-deactivated20160110]

        It didn’t take much effort for Sungkyung to realize how ridiculous she actually sounded; they loathed each other. “By the way you treat me, I would think you’d go that far. Maybe I overestimated you.” She wasn’t just steaming;  she was burning. The randomly waking upon the forest floor hadn’t drove her mad, however, with more conversation this lad would. The way his aura clashed with her spirit was beyond her own means. From day one, Sungkyung knew that they would be clawing against each other with the way Namjoon was such a smartass. It made her feel content with the way they were both seemingly clueless. 

          She would be lying is she claimed she wasn’t amused. For once, the boy was confused and left without words in her assumption. Sungkyung let out a snort, holding back the effort of laughing. “Knowing why would be too easy. Since you claim that you have no idea, we might as well find out why.” She briefly turned to scan her surroundings with curiosity, the forest blinding her once again with all of the secrets that it seemed to keep under lock and key.  “You know what? I take that back. I like it here.” It was a purposeful statement; knowing it may irk Namjoon to his core. Her curiosity was her favorite part about her soul.

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

     “How I treat you is in reflection of how you treat me, Sungkyung,” he states as if it were an obvious fact, a promise to continue as he has, unrelenting in uncharacteristic stubbornness, until she were to accept and acknowledge the existence of the qualities that had Namjoon tilting his head and biting his tongue in strained patience. He smirks bitterly at her next words, shaking his head as his arms come to fold across his chest and he repeats incredulously, “Overestima—well, yeah, you’re admitting one thing right, good. As much as us going back and forth thrills me every time, I’d rather not do it in some shady forest with who-knows-what or -who’s hiding out here.” Couldn’t she tell that he was just as discomfited by their sudden apparition into the fantastical setting? Even she should know that he wasn’t stupid enough to drag himself into plots of petty revenge, whatever level his skill in magic was at this point. With that, she was able to poke at his vulnerabilities, his value, his capabilities and his own personal struggle to identify them; and he never knew if she did it intentionally or not. It was that unpredictability concerning her motives that was probably what truly bothered him the most about her.

     And today, he could see it shine so smugly on her face, only three inches shorter than how he stood, too direct and clear when her bemusement flowed from her taunting lips. It was a deliberate obstinacy, although spoken with a pensive lilt in her voice, that almost gave him a heart attack from her sudden shift into relaxed acceptance of their complicated case. “What, no. No.” His arms fall once again, no sooner than he had them formerly clenched against him in annoyance. If there was anything worse than a Sungkyung embellished in over-the-top emotion, it must’ve been a complacent Sungkyung, he considers with an ironic disposition. It was hard to imagine her giving in so easily to the way of the woods, so he’ll refuse to have her a chance to change so. Looking her over with a questioning gaze, he replies straight-forwardly in a brazen presumption. “You’re lying if you’re pretending you don’t care at all about this.” Namjoon takes one slow step nearer, peering directly at her, adding, “You’d be foolish to think you shouldn’t find out why you’re—” and he does have the decency to refrain from completing that sentence - human.

     He closes his mouth for a few seconds before resolutely deciding out loud to her, “And I’m hungry. Tired, hungry, and if you’re not, then you can enjoy the view on your own.”                                                                 But he doesn’t leave; just yet, at least.

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

❤️

‘  ❤ : Describe a physical action that shows complete trust. ——

Not normally being a touchy-feely person, physical actions coming from him are less likely to be given out than, say, words of kindness, compassion, or affection. It isn’t because he doesn’t want to show someone he cares about them through physical ways, but he doesn’t know how to without feeling embarrassed, or worrying about behaving like a clumsy idiot who might spend too long trying to link the long length of his arm with another’s, or perhaps accidentally slam someone’s back when all he would be going for is a soothing stroke. So if he trusts someone, it would be obvious the moment he chooses to seek their form without thought—natural, when he isn’t thinking, maybe touching someone’s elbow as he’s in the middle of a sentence and looking the opposite way or lightly pushing against one of their arms as his eyes crinkle with laughter at something the other person had said. If he’s physical with someone during the moments he is not wrapped up in his mind, calculating, measuring situations or other people’s responses to him, then that would mean Namjoon trusted them on a level that even he had not realized yet.

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

☛☢

‘  ☛ : What is their typical response to being given orders? ——

Tone would have a lot to do with how Namjoon would respond to being given orders. Since he works at the herb shop, he’s pretty much used to busying himself because of others’ whims, going to and from the back stock room to answering customer requests and concerns, so basic commands or questions (”Pass that over here.” / “Could you lean a little to the left? I can’t see.” / “Close the door, please.” ) aren’t denied by him most of the time. They’re simple things that Namjoon shouldn’t really mind doing for other people, so he does them; but he won’t give as easy of a response to someone who yells, rushes, or pressures him to do something, and might flat out avoid the request rather than answer anything in its acknowledgement. 

‘  ☢ :  Describe a thought or dream that would cause them to have a mental meltdown. ——  

He hasn’t exactly experienced a mental meltdown before, and it’s mostly because he’s become used to dealing with stressful situations with a frightening, and even unhealthy, calmness. He’s the type to not have many dreams either, so his thoughts would be what has the most likely chance to break him down in some way. The thought of his parents, failing as a mage, succumbing himself to the loneliness he felt before meeting his current mother-figure, thinking to the point of believing he’s unworthy of this second chance he has—at being the person he’d always wanted to be, enough to be cared about, sane—and cheating his fate for wanting to make the most of it, is when Namjoon’s temples begin to pound, his breathing becoming increasingly shallow, and his frustrations and withheld bitterness towards himself and the world come to surface. These thoughts tend to flow one after the other, but if ever there comes a time when he’s unable to find a distraction, or force himself to ignore his pain and the fact that he is not okay, will be what causes his insides to metaphorically crumble in on itself.

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

who wouldn’t want to eat din dins w this beauty, i mean,,,,,,,,??

currently at school, currently owing plotting messages (via tumblr inbox and on aim), meme answers, and replies, but i needed to jump on dis “vows made of wine” plotting, okay, so this is my lil psa sacrificing namjoon to fantasies and food!!!! he’s got knowledge on herbs/plants, so he could probably come up w some remedies to help those who were injured during the paths, make food xtra tastier w certain herbs, pick out poisonous ones, ahhhhh............. like this post so i can hit u up or maybe swoop in my askbox to pick me up pls??

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

regrettably. — KNJ

.  .  . in a forest too bright to be real, even harsher than where they had been before—the over-saturated leaves are coated in a substance akin to candy, and laughter can occasionally be heard in all directions, almost too sweet to be kind. The woods constantly offer distractions in the form of the travelers’ wildest desires—a hallucination of a past lover, fruit ripe enough to burst, diverging paths leading to libraries of the greatest knowledge or to paradises of pleasure and repose—and all very, very tempting.

Beyond bliss, bright colors bleed, seeping sweet and sickeningly into the soil, tainting what should’ve been the natural green flush of the forest’s vegetation; and overwhelmingly, the intensity of each hue causes its picturesque perfection to vibrate menacingly, severe and strong, across Namjoon’s vision. The passion of how alive his surroundings were—obtrusive in its message to envelop the young man in faux flavors of vivid, vain promises—was too much for him to feel all at once, too much to comprehend in the entirety of its energy, when he had been someone accustomed too much to bleak realities and unforgiving fates. Could it truly be his fault, then, could he truly be blamed for following a path less traveled by him, a mage who only ever wanted to have euphoria within his reach for once?

But he must have wanted more than he deserved. Something impossible for him to have, at least for now. And as he’s forced to stumble through the dizzying array of glimmering leaves, and to endure the hysterical laughter, shrieking sharp and shrill, around him, he discovers that he’s reached his limit, enough to have him sink to his knees, palms maintaining his weakening sense of balance by plastering themselves onto the sucrose sheen coating the nearest fallen tree log. Selfish—feeble limbs, faint of heart, unable to handle mid-autumn dreams despite having longed for them.

Red toy cars spin, grow, shrink, fly; peaches burst its sticky juices across the floor; light beats against his exposed skin, blinding even through his closed eyes, stinging to the point of forming tears behind his lids; the rush of rivers flowing at an alarming rate; the soft touch of hands covering his own, another pair at his shoulders, rubbing, soothing; whispers of lullabies, voices morphed so softly, yet strained, one low, one high, comforting his weary heart, getting louder, louder; his heart pounding rapidly against his ribcage, they’re here, they’re back, they’re here, they want me, they need me, they’re here, with me, here, here—

Namjoon keeps his eyes shut. Namjoon scrambles up, hands flying around him, and his pace quickens as he flusters, one step at a time, touching trunks, yanking leaves to guide him until he’s running. Warmth invades his senses, his blood moving faster and faster within his body as he runs without sight, although knowing that they had been with him, his parents had come back for him, had given him unexpected joy so powerful that he almost felt like he would implode from the fulfillment of getting to be with them again. But he doesn’t open his eyes, and he’s speeding away from the beautiful moment, tossing his long frame through the crackling wind, panting, the longest time passing, all the while sounds intermingling with the air, unearthed from his subconscious soul, twinkling, singing, replaying time’s unremembered, elusive — illusion.

He trips slightly, nudging his chest forward before his legs, though reflexively thrusts himself a step back, and stops. His breathing is heavy, his muscles ache, his head is splitting; but a familiar numbness cools his mind, as it was before he entered the path. Namjoon’s lashes flick open, and a few tears slip down his cheeks, having been previously trapped behind his eyelids.

If the faces of his parents had been the first things he saw after opening his eyes, he’s afraid he would’ve never left. Thankfully, regrettably, when he does it now — it is not.

[mxjine-deactivated20151208]

Under my umbrella | SH x

Hyejin finished her shift without problems and in time. A miracle like this deserved to be celebrated with a cup of hot and spicy noodles, and she knew just where to find them. The few bucks she had in her wallet were enough to pay for the spicy noodles and a can of soda; it was, without a doubt, her lucky day. Plus, she heard on TV that there was a high possibility of raining.

“I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.” The female waved goodbye to her co-worker behind the counter and exited the bookstore, umbrella in hand. When she looked up to the sky and noticed the grey clouds, she flashed a smile; it was perfect to catch up with a series. But first she needed to buy something to fill up her stomach with. Hyejin made her way towards the closest convenience store and, then, to noodles hallway. Hundreds of exposed packages, snacks and drinks, it was like Heaven.

Noodles, soda and a free chocolate bar that she got from samples, she was ready to go. With the plastic bag on her other hand, she got out of the store and noticed the first raindrops falling. Hyejin opened her umbrella, a see-through one with ‘I ❤ rain’ printed on it, and was about to take her first step into the rain when she noticed someone struggling with something she couldn’t see. “Hey,” She called out. “Is everything alright?”

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

     Figures, it’s cloudless and clear when he walks to the recycling center, fingers looped between the plastic knots of the trash bags’ ends, an earphone bud thumping soft autumn beats to his left as the other lays over his shoulder and hits his chest with every broad step he takes. Less than a mile’s distance along the main shopping center’s streets, he’s finishing what he should’ve done earlier that morning, before he dismissed the shop radio’s forecast of drizzling droplets, before he stuffed the stretched material he carries in each hand with rotting roots and cracking petals. Fully memorizing the enchantment he’d promised Seonja, his mentor and mother-figure, he’d perfect, by the end of the hour, had been his previous priority; but soon enough, when the weight of a couple beads of rain gather into the plant waste he lugs at his sides, the bag’s handles snap unceremoniously from his grasp, and spill, yellow-brown, purple-orange, putrid, across the sidewalk.

     And now the pattering of the sky’s liquid taps faster at the back of his jacket, the denim covering the tops of his shoulder absorbing the cold water, his white shirt spotting slightly as the rain trickles down from his chin. Now, a bit of nasty weather, he could manage, but the cruel mess staining his path, combined with the taunting wet rhythm prodding his body, was a little cruel.

     He sighs. Staring blankly at the trash, he bites his tongue, then with another resounding sigh, he takes off his earphones, rolling them and his cellphone into the pocket of his jeans, bends down, and begins piling the organic matter together so that it isn’t spread out obtrusively on the concrete walkway. Not a second sooner passes when he hears a voice above him, behind him, sweet and concerned. Namjoon looks over his shoulder, eyes turning upwards to meet the gaze of a girl. “Ah...” he trails off, flashing a second look back at what certainly must’ve been a strange mix of broken and withering plants, their colors fading yet retaining its experimental shades, as a result of having been casted upon on over and over again during Namjoon’s transmutation practices. Still examining the spilled waste with a careful eye, wondering whether or not he’s right in believing it was truly safe for her to touch in their decomposed state, despite having done all the proper procedures to rid the last true bits of magical elements within the material, he nonetheless replies, “No. Yeah, I mean I haven’t killed someone, but this is—” he falls back to sit on his haunches, “—unfortunate.” He looks back up to her, brows furrowed slightly in a polite plea, “Could you just, I don’t know, hold your umbrella over, so it doesn’t get too bad?”

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

☾

‘  ☾ : On a sleepless night, what would they be found doing? ——

No sleep for Namjoon means either one of two things: too many thoughts or unfinished business. His response to the cause of his sleeplessness, though, wouldn’t differ according to which reason is what’s keeping his head from touching soundly on the softness of his pillow. If he can’t sleep because of a racing mind, thinking about people, his past, people’s pasts, a stranger’s smile, a friend’s tears, his emotions, needing to re-stock the shop, water herbs, re-read a tomb’s chapter, tell someone something——he’ll get up and move. He’d pull on a hoodie and walk. He’d find one of his friends to talk to. He’d buy what he was supposed to buy 12 hours earlier. He’d take his books and notes outside. The point is that he’d move off of the couch he sleeps on in the living room and do something for a while until he thinks it’d be a good time to try to sleep again.

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

☠ ;
♥

    .  .  .    &  mcxhoseok asked: ☁️ ☯

‘  ☠ : Are there any recent/daily thoughts they have about death or dying?  ——

For someone with his history, it can be expected that he’d harbor some thoughts concerning his death, or death in general, due to the negligence of his parents at such an early age. However, that is not the case; instead, Namjoon doesn’t think about such morbid subjects often, and if he does it’s in either a philosophical or studious consideration of magic’s capabilities to avoid death or of the theory behind death in unnaturals. When he thinks about death or dying now, it’s more like he thinks about it in context or in relation with life, and it’s both because of the fact that there cannot be death without life first as well as how he’s been given a proper chance at a life that he won’t be taking for granted anytime soon.

‘ ♥ : Name one thing about the way their emotions work that they despise.  ——

A single word that characterizes Namjoon at his uttermost foundation is ‘sincerity’. He’s extremely genuine in everything he does, from the words he speaks to the actions he makes to the emotions he feels; although encompassing that trait can frustrate him a lot. It’s knowing that no matter what image he’d like to give off to those around him or what things he tries to convince himself, he can’t help but relay himself 100% or not at all. It means that if he doesn’t want to admit something to himself or others, then he won’t be able to think or anything else until he can manage to be himself once again. It’s being so honest with yourself, after having spent so long with no one but yourself, that you’re incapable of ignoring the things you don’t like about who you are or who others are, or even confess to the things that you do like about who you are or who others are.  He despises this about his emotions simply because it’s truth.

‘ ☁️  : Describe how they would spend a stormy, overcast/rainy day.  ——

Since Namjoon isn’t so fond of stormy, overcast/rainy days, he can definitely be found cooped up in some closed setting, warmly lit and quiet. He’d try his best to keep himself distracted from the weather, so he’d be busying himself with some type of activity whether it be practicing magic, offering extra help to Seonja, his mother figure, in their apartment above the shop or in the shop——anything that needed to be done. Stormy, overcast/rainy days would be very productive for him, rather than relaxing.

‘ ☯  : Do they believe for every darkness there is a lightness? If not, why?  ——

Yes. Without a doubt. Namjoon’s mind likes to make sense of the world by looking at the big picture and the relationships that make up the big picture, almost like understanding that in order to have the completed puzzle there must be puzzle pieces to be put together first. In the same way he thinks about death in context with life, he would think about darkness in context with light. Without parallels, Namjoon’s comprehension of the world and the factors within it would probably drive himself into total confusion, since his beliefs are majorly made up of an appreciation for the complexities between opposites as well as the second chances that positives can give to negatives. If he were to believe that there was only ever one way to have things be, such as only either dark or light, he probably wouldn’t have as good of a head on his shoulders as he does now. He believes balance among variety is an important aspect to all things tangible and intangible.

[forpjm]

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

kim daily

[kwongrey-deactivated20160110]

our tune again | open

[kwongrey-deactivated20160110]

        It was odd— the way the forest glinted and shined with such personality. It made her dizzy, unable to focus as she walked. She wasn’t used to such brightness within the dreary sightings of her home. She stumbled, hair falling and mind swirling.  Her only goal was to continue forward towards the strange sensation of something pulling her. With a final stumble, she reached the clearing, eyes snapping into focus to the man in front of her.

          “You have got to be shitting me.” The stinging on her hand soon faded to a numb sensation, causing her to nearly scrub her skin raw once again. Sungkyung couldn’t believe what she was seeing; out of everything in the goddamn forest, she managed to run into Namjoon. She couldn’t help as her feet stumbled once more towards the annoyance, becoming way too close for comfort as she looked at his hands in a crouch without actually touching him. K33. A curse left her lips as she rose once more, backing away from Namjoon himself. “Is this some stupid joke? Did you do this, you and your ridiculous voodoo?!” Her eye scanned their hands, nearly out of breath from yelling. “It hurts!”

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

    Noise. That’s all he saw in front of him, strawberry-blonde to match the vibrancy of her resounding frequencies and vulgarity slicing through the forest’s dreamy haze. The light reflecting against the moisture, lingering in the mystic air and on top of dew droplets, would’ve been hypnotic in another moment, if it not for how Sungkyung’s brusqueness breaks the otherwise fantastical illusion of their surroundings. Perhaps it was for the better, then, so that the two did not become helplessly ensnared by the night’s delicate whispers; but she sure made it hard for him to appreciate the vanished sense of gloom, which had drowned his heart upon opening his eyes earlier on, although he couldn’t have expected any less from her. Decorated regal with a crown of flowers embedded within her locks of hair, or transparent to the world beyond his vision, it made no difference—she was still the same, her ability to irk was prominent and still. the. same.

    “Because I’d be going out of my way to learn witch’s magic for you,” he says flatly, fully hoping to indicate that he has enough to worry about when it came to advancing his potential as a mage, and yet she thought he planned for them to be here, together, in this place? “You think I live to thrive solely on your discomfort?” Whenever he saw her, always, her exclamations had to be centered around herself, her opinion, her impatience, didn’t they? Namjoon keeps steady eye contact, letting his gaze communicate the incredulity of seeing her have her familiar attitude retaining a pointed persistence, even in the strangest of situations.

    And she’s — in pain? No, she’s incapable of — it’s dramatic. As his own similar suffering wades, sinking into coolness against his skin, he can’t avoid the squint of his eyes as a response to her words, in judgement of her accusations; yet his long fingers trace against the ink on his wrist without his knowing, as if in a subconscious concern and question for the link that appeared to bind the two beings in closer ways than he was comfortable with. It’s alarming. Enough for him to add, tone wary, lowered, his words trailing in suspicion,  “But  h o w.  .  .”

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

✏ : What are their creative outlets?✉ : Do they tend to rely on words or actions more?

‘  ✏ : What are their creative outlets?  ——

answered here !

‘ ✉ : Do they tend to rely on words or actions more? ——

Actions speak louder than words to some, but Namjoon would like to kindly point out that actions technically don’t speak at all. He lies his faith on words more than actions, and it’s because he believes that they way they can be constructed so intricately and specifically gives them greater power than acts of doing. When a person throws punches, it’s impulse, it’s emotion boiling over; when that person doesn’t touch you, and instead says that they have never loved you, it’s thought, it’s a precise collection of sounds that they have, in full consciousness, bound meaning to. A similar power can play in contrast as well, when there’s a lack of words spoken, silence and nothingness seemingly empty, but they convey a purpose nonetheless. The same goes for promises and wishes too, when written or uttered, since if they hadn’t been put out there in the first place, it wouldn’t mean as much for when they are broken or fulfilled. Words, to him, are the foundation to much of what actions attempt to represent or are a response to.

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

☂ ✏

‘ ☂ : Storms or clear skies? ——

Although free from the feeling of being somewhere he didn’t belong, Namjoon remembers the rain now as a crude reminder of the first time he realized he could not survive on his own. That sometimes, children needed adults, houses, warm embraces, and food. When storms shake the skies, howling winds become a recollection of the moment his young bones trembled viciously in the rain, vulnerable, after having left his legal guardians for his third night, and was facing a future without the comforts of basic human necessities. So, clear skies are what he prefers. Whether the colors above him are grey, blue, or pink, the weather hot, cold, or humid, as long as he can still look up to clarity rather than confusion; he’ll feel much more at ease.

‘  ✏ : What are their creative outlets?  ——

He’s always been fond of music; especially of simple, chill sounds, easy enough to listen while reading his texts, yet catchy enough to have his head bobbing to the beats, whether they’re composed electronically or acoustically. If his voice was built better for singing, that’d definitely be one of his creative outlets. But it’s the lyrical content in music that captures his attention, and what matters most to him when listening to music.Therefore, he likes to write poetry, brief stanzas here and there annotated within the margins of his notes, a device he’s found that really helps him focus on what he’s reading, since he’s able to connect increasingly with the words he’s memorizing and analyzing. In a way, it’s like he doodles in his journals with letters, littering the pages in various colors of ink, amid pressed plants and dog-eared corners, rather than images.

[cittamemes]

In Depth Headcanon Prompts;

☠ : Are there any recent/daily thoughts they have about death or dying? ☯ : Do they believe for every darkness there is a lightness? If not, why? ♥ : Name one thing about the way their emotions work that they despise. ☆ : Would they ever wish upon a falling star? If so, what would they wish? ☁ : Describe how they would spend a stormy, overcast/rainy day. ☂ : Storms or clear skies? εжз : What about nature do they find calming? What about nature do they find disagreeable? ☎ : List three or more people they would call out for during an emergency. ☛ : What is their typical response to being given orders? ☢ : Describe a thought or dream that would cause them to have a mental meltdown. ✄ : Are there any reasons why they would ever think of self-harm? If so, what are they? ❤ : Describe a physical action that shows complete trust. ❥ : Describe a verbal way they would express complete trust. ✗ : Explain how they portray feelings of hostility or dislike. ⊗ : What is something that causes them to question themself? ☾ : On a sleepless night, what would they be found doing? ☤ : Is there anything about their health they are continuously on edge about? Something they disregard? ✓ : Name at least two people who can trust them with their life. ❣: Describe a way that will earn affection (whether platonic or romantic) from them. ✖ : Describe a way to make them uneasy or apprehensive. ♆ : Are they prone to violent outbursts or thoughts? ✏ : What are their creative outlets? ✉ : Do they tend to rely on words or actions more? ♡ : Is there a certain scent that brings about nostalgia? If so, describe a memory this scent brings back. ۞: Are there any inner demons they can never seem to get rid of? What are they?

[kwongrey-deactivated20160110]

our tune again | open

      Between the tossing and turning, the mere atmosphere of confusion was the only thing substantial to her slow rising panic. She felt it in her daze; the mysterious setting. It was so incredibly unsettling that she felt herself snap hyper aware, head turning between directions in confusion.

        Her head spun, her hand stung. If she didn’t realize that something unbelievable was taking place, she would have considered herself intoxicated. Sungkyung let out a groan as she rolled off of her hip. The forest was certainly beautiful. Taking a moment to gather her surroundings, Sungkyung was shocked by the appearance of her own body without her will. Why was she formulated? It would explain her hand hurting like an absolute bitch— that’s for sure.

        Looking down, she gathered the sight of why her hand hurt so bad. “P33?” She whispered aloud, rubbing a finger over the lettering softly. The pressure increased slightly as she attempted to wipe it off with failure. “K33?” Her hand clearly read the letter P, but why did she have such a yearning to read it as K? Sungkyung felt herself being drawn to the code; she needed to find the missing K.

          “This makes no fucking sense.” She let out a low growl. With a stomp of her foot, Sung looked once more within a direction— reluctantly walking without much enthusiasm. “Where the hell is K33?” With a murmur, a thought crossed her mind. Maybe only then her hand would start to feel better. She missed the feeling of feeling.

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

     Foreboding, the dread of darkness slowly creeps smoothly up his throat, seemingly suffocating the air from his lungs as if the last of his breath was beginning to spill uselessly from his parted lips and he can’t—B R E A T H E. Namjoon gasps, awake, the veins in his neck bulging in a second’s flash, his physiology gradually accustoming itself to the fact that no, he is not choking, and yes, the feelings were imaginary, though ah, the prickling heat on his wrist is very much real. Blinking at the burning black ink, the pace of his beating heart steadies itself somewhat in pensiveness as his mouth forms into a thin line, eyes scanning his unfamiliar surroundings: humid, faint, ethereal. Although, a looming aura around his spirits suddenly manifests into a rush of need, his voice immediately letting slip a low and raspy, “P33.”

     He swallows, looking back down at the K33 engraved into his skin, bothered by the single P playing before his eyelids despite the clear difference from it being evident on his body. Biting his tongue between his teeth, he stares at the mystery for a while longer before huffing, disbelief growing within him for somehow having ended up in such a strange situation. But the dirt digging into his palms and the midnight colors of the leaves, enchanting gifts of the forest, were as close to the memories of the shop he loved, which he’d much rather be at during this time. . . though he couldn’t leave, wouldn’t go willingly, even. There were other pressing matters to attend to under the mist of the moonlight.

     When he stands, the young man pats the denim of his jeans, busying himself in preparation of the long walk he’s sure he’ll be taking in search of answers to questions he doesn’t exactly have yet. But a muffled voice, frustration stark in her words nonetheless, stops his actions. Lifting his head straight ahead, towards the approaching figure coming out of the trees’ cover, Namjoon braces himself for the person moving his way, in anticipation, the feeling of chancing the completeness he longed for the moment he awoke in the lonely woods and it’s — Sungkyung.

     His arms drop flat against his sides. Sungkyung. Of all the beings in this oh, so funny universe, Sunkyung. Expression displaying his disappointment, he’s about to huff again until something catches his attention - or rather, her blatant physicality, of the ghost he’s come to know so unfavorably, causes him to adjust his displeased gaze, surprise glinting subtly behind his lashes. “Why are you — ” and now the letter and numbers on her wrist align into his line of sight, tone shifting back into the exasperated kind he often uses when he argues talks with her. “Why are you  — ? ”

     He can’t bring himself to say it out loud. The very effort to might make him wither.

[mcxnamjoon-blog]

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