fallible.

❝ aren't we all bound for hell? we're already guaranteed to die. they said, 'you can try to turn it around', betting for that win as you lose, yet just as everything goes wrong there's still no way to choose. it's in your blood; it's deep. the voice has been right all along. unbury the dead, let the flames carry you up and on. ❞

[mixdodger-blog]

missing now found

[mixdodger-blog]

yyoungjaemi‌:

he missed that. youngjae missed being pulled into his arms and close to his chest, missed being close to jun in general. he missed crying into his neck, because it was the most comforting way of crying, because jun always held him, no matter why he cried, no matter for how long. he also missed his scent, it always had been something jun-like, not describable but weirdly familiar. he missed his voice and also him in general. he even missed the way the other always got in trouble. he was probably the person youngjae always had been the most concerned about - because he was the one of his friends who got in trouble most often. he kept every memory, every photo they took, man, even the spray can with violet spray paint they used once and every little stone they found in one of the boxes underneath his bed, in his apartment.

he stops sobbing when jun looks at him, wipes away his tears with left right sleeve and places his fingers on his jaw. “where’d all the squish go? where’s my squish? the baby fat?” youngjae scoffs slightly, with a light grin on his face while he pinches his cheeks. he sniffs while his cheeks start to dry up completely and the grin doesn’t escape from his face when the other speaks.

even though the sad look returns to his eyes, the smile remains on his lips. jun is right, something has happened. but talking about it in public wouldn’t be the best idea, and his apartment is not that far away, they could easily walk to get there. he nods slowly and shakes his head immediately after. “yah, you’re not apologizing for not being there, you had no chance to be there.” he pinches his right cheek, again. there’s one thing he loves more than everything about his conversations with jun, they’re.. free. he doesn’t feel pressured to say the truth, the truth slips out by itself.

the second he got pulled into another hug his arms wrapped around his neck again and he nearly would’ve jumped to wrap his legs around his hips, too, but they were in public and some elder people were already sending them strange looks. “you idiot thought that I was dead? no way. of course I got time, why’d ya even ask?” he scoffed, again. “I would cancel every appointment for you. let me- let’s go to my apartment, alright? I’ve got to tell you some things that aren’t meant for public.”

it really is a miracle that jun has managed to live this long without heading to prison with all the shit he’s gotten into or getting himself into bigger shit than he anticipated. although, granted, one could say he’s only really been washing his hands in dirty water and not soaking them in it; nothing has stained and he’s not lost any fingers, but then again ...

he’s not really been all that innocent has he? he’s not soaking his hands in dirt, but he also already has blood on them.

really though, and he means really, the shit he got up to back then with his friends was petty shit, looking back. it was lowkey and typical things hooligans got into, thinking they were all cool and whatever every time they ‘stick it to the man’. and yeah, jun had been one of those shitheads back then, thinking he was all the shit -- and yeah, he did kind of end up dragging youngjae into some of the shit he got into, even though some days he’d tell youngjae to stay home ‘cause he didn’t want the guy getting into trouble by association.

did that ever work? nah, not really. the amount of times that jun would turn around and see youngjae being a god awful ninja and tailing him happened almost every single time.

and those memories made him happy ... he’d tried to brush it off all suave and shit, but when youngjae had gone missing, a chunk of light had gone missing from his life as well. he’d found himself subconsciously turning around at times, while heading out, expecting to see that same face from around a corner that was sheepish as fuck for being caught. jun had never gotten mad at him. it had felt lonelier without him.

“hey-- i never had any baby fat! this been the same, chisel as fuck face since day one,” jun pretends to huff, scrunching his face a little as his cheeks are assaulted, and he grabs youngjae’s hand to remove it from his delicate features -- if only to pull it down to hold onto, his hand squeezing his in a manner that contradicts his seemingly disgruntled tone. it says ‘i missed you, and i’m not gonna let you go again.’ 

he can feel the stares of some people around them, it doesn’t bother him nor stop him from his physical affection with youngjae. those people can get fucked, for all he cares. this ain’t none of their business. “yeah, ya disappearin’ act was too good for me, man. way too good ...” clearing his throat a little and to pull himself together a bit, he adjusts his jacket then slings an arm around youngjae’s shoulders, yanking him tight to his side as he says, “yeah, sounds real good. y’ lead the way.

“man, did ya grow taller? ya used t’ be like a peanut.”

[lukef]

a place to bury strangers.

[mixdodger-blog]

noirxmi‌:

@mixdodger

tw: mention of murder and literally burying a corpse

Baekhyun groaned. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and when he tried to wipe it away, dirt got stuck to his skin. His eyes gazed over the face of the male, his expression pained, his last breath taken a while ago and his eyes closed. If you don’t want the mpd to find your little ‘secrets’, you need to bury them not just ten but thirty foot deep. The worst thing you could do is wrap the body in plastic, it’s going to take the organisms years to corrode it. That was why the last thing he could see was the males face before the dirt finally covered it.

He gripped the shovel he was using to bury him with both hands. His fingers were as sweaty as his face and his back, the dirt stuck to him like he bathed in it and his black shoes were full with mud. Everyone could see what he was doing, but the hole wasn’t closed yet, it would be no problem to bury a second body. But nothing like that happened. It took him one hour to close the improvised “grave”, one hour until no one could see what happened next to the tree. Satisfied with his work and drenched in sweat, he started to make his way back to his car - before he heard something crack.

His eyes landed on the males face, he recognized him and groaned internally.

Jun.

This was the worst occasion he could’ve met him in, with blood splattered across his shirt and his jeans, dirt all over his clothes and body and a shovel in his hands. His appearance literally told the other that he committed a murder, even a child would’ve seen it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice was deep as always, he sounded stressed and calm at the same time. His left hand immediately wandered to his belt, just to clutch his fingers around his gun, ready to do what was necessary. “Answer me, now.”

tw; mention of murder

why had Jun come this way today? who even fucking knows -- he doesn’t even fucking know. and yet, his cruise on his motorbike today had taken him to the forest, a really fucking odd place for anyone to associate jun with.

anyone who was acquainted with the young male would know that he’s not really that much a nature-y kind of guy. he’s not all too keen on spiritually; you ain’t going to catch him meditating or anything, or burning any incense.for the most part, nature to him was nice to look at, once in a while, usually with someone else. what kind of dumbass would go chasing a sunset by himself? 

a sappy as fuck dumbass, that’s who.

but, wandering forests had a bit of nostalgia for jun, which is why his stupid brain sometimes gravitated his body towards them. they were a place of odd solitude after his father got his ass offed, and although the drinking and nights out with mates were fun and a good distraction too, the sounds of the forest and climbing up a tree were another distraction. it was a place for him to be angry in secret, to yell as loud as he wanted and no one to hear him, to kick and punch out his frustrations.

‘course, he doesn’t ever admit this to anyone. the forest is stupid; he doesn’t know why he’s even come here.

minding his own business, hands in pockets as he strolled through the dirt and small fallen twigs, he wasn’t really paying attention to where he’s going. he’s just walking, kicking at random leaves and stones, when he heard the shuffling of kind of sounds like footsteps coming his way, or just some sort of animal. he hopes it ain’t no fucking bear coming to eat him, but would that be better or worse? instead, it was somone who looked kind of familiar, his face definitely recognisable even though he was covered in dirt, and some red stuff stained on his shirt, and with a shovel in his hand--

‘oh ... shit.’

“oh-- uh, hey, baekhyun-- uh, i ain’t doin’ nothin’, just, uh, walkin’, ‘n’ on my way--” he says, trying to sound casual and shit, and trying to keep his eyes from looking at all the damn evidence. his brain ain’t that dumb to not be able to piece two and two together; he knows murder when he sees it, but he really doesn’t want to get involved. that ain’t his shit, no way.

“look, i ain’t seen nothin’, yeah? ‘m just gon’ head on my way now--”

[mixdodger-blog]

Ouch!

[ ACTIVITY ] – randomly generated sentence starter meme[ NUMBER GENERATED ] – 4. [my muse will] have their nose broken by your muse.      ⇀ STATUS – submissions closed

tw ; blood

often times, jun claimed that shit just found him.

this time, he definitely walked right into this kind of shit, no question about it. it had been the money that lured him in; when offered the brief, jun knew it was territory he shouldn’t be crossing, oh, he knew. not that he hasn’t taken on a job that could get him in the shits with this gang – ‘cause, really, any job he gets could get him in the shits with anyone, just ‘cause stepping on toes on this island means stepping on more than one set of toes – but this one was damn obvious. the chances of getting caught were higher than usual, and the supplied blueprints and information about security in the place was a fucking bad idea. but, jun was feeling good ‘bout himself. he was feeling himself.

“yeah, i’ll take it. ya better hold up ya end with the dough though, man.”

those exact words were coming back to haunt him right about now.

jun hadn’t expected this guy to be in the building, but ‘course he didn’t ‘cause that fucker of an informant hadn’t told him. and of-fucking-course, he had to be seen in a super obvious situation where it’s damn-fucking obvious he ain’t supposed to be there. otherwise, jun would’ve tried to shit talk his way out. it’s worked, sometimes – sometimes people are just too fucking suspicious for their own good. why can’t they just quietly continue to walk on their way? why they gotta come make his own fucking life hard, man.

a loud curse had escaped jun’s lips, and first reaction was to run. he knew the way back out and the escape route to take to safety, and hoped to fucking god it wasn’t gonna be blocked by anyone else. but this dude … oh, man, this dude … he wasn’t no normal dude. he was quick – and jun’s a quick guy, no doubt about it – and a small stumble by jun in his panic meant a grab on his clothes, and suddenly he was in a fucking tough tussle. he was being hit hard, and an attack he didn’t manage to dodge landed right on his nose.

‘fuck!!!’

you bet it knocked him back a few steps, the pain and tell-tale quick gush of liquid down his chin a major sign his nose had been broken. immediately clutching at it, he still tried to turn and run, blinking through the tears in his eyes – he wasn’t crying  ‘cause it hurt so fucking bad, it was ‘cause his nose was in the middle of his fucking face and close to his fucking tear ducts or something – scrambling upright to find any and every way to get away from this guy.

if he got caught here, he knew he was dead; there was no question about it. anyone who tries to cross hydrus were bound to be deadmeat, but jun really wasn’t keen on becoming pig feed.

[minw]

[mixdodger-blog]

missing now found

[mixdodger-blog]

yyoungjaemi‌:

it seems like the day started great for youngjae - he woke up early, the reason why he was already out to do some groceries. he was neither tired nor wide awake, rather something in between, but he couldn’t be bothered less. the weather was good and he already helped an old lady with collecting the apples she dropped while crossing the street - in other words, he felt great.

he just ate a donut (his mom would’ve scolded him for eating a donut for breakfast, but never mind) and threw his cup of coffee in a dustbin, before he heard someone calling his name. he wasn’t prepared to see that face, not now, not anytime soon. of course, youngjae lost contact to all of his friends and disappeared without saying a word, it had been years and still, he remembers you.. 

his arms clenched around the other before he even knew, before he could say a word; he nearly clinched onto him. he doesn’t even give him a second to check if he’s really youngjae, he simply hugs him stronger and tries to hold back a few tears of joy and despair. “jun” he whispers, shocked, confused, scared. the other changed, his lineaments got sharper, he looked stronger, a little bit intimidating, but not for youngjae. youngjae still sees the teenager that ‘saved’ him from the hornet in his apartment, that didn’t laugh when he fell in love with another puppy or dog and the male who got into so much trouble that it hurt his heart if he didn’t knew that he was safe. 

he flinches slightly when a bit of coffee hits the fabric of his pullover, but he doesn’t care, the only thing he cares about is jun. “look- I- I can explain.” he has to. he’s not able to make up something that excuses the fact that he disappeared - also, he doesn’t want to lie to jun, but not there, not on the street where everyone is able to hear. “I’m sorry.” he murmurs before he buries his face in the crook of his neck and a few tears roll down his cheeks. his apology is followed by a sobbed “I missed you so much.” before he finally looks up again, his eyes and cheeks red, his bottom lip trembling.  

the other looks more mature than youngjae, he lost those chubby cheeks and everything, while youngjae kept a little bit puppy fat, especially on his hips and his cheeks. he looks a little bit like a puppy himself (one of the reasons besides his love for puppies why he was called ‘ganga-jae’ by jun often). “I’m alive, as you can see.” he says with a soft smile on his lips that reveals his dimples as he wipes the tears out of his eyes. 

“..and I couldn’t be more glad to meet you again.”

jun’s demands probably make him seem forward, aggressive, maybe even mad -- but he ain’t, not even in the slightest. he’s more relieved, surprised, elated that the friend he’d thought was lost for good to the dark streets of yeonggi was alive, and seemingly well. he kind of feels like the same youngjae -- jun didn’t really fucking look before almost bowling him over. he’s always been more of an emotional person than logical; he acts on his feelings and that’s what had always gotten him into all sorts of shit -- and still kind of does. but that would always worry youngjae, back then. it sounds funny to think like that -- ‘back then’ -- because he can compare it to something in the present now.

a dead youngjae didn’t allow that. there had been nothing in the present for jun’s memories with him, with the youngest’s disappearance basically without a trace, but even years of no contact didn’t change jun’s rare loyalty for him. it was reserved for a select few, and even death couldn’t fucking change that. he’d been so much for jun when he’d lost connection all other family, even the dumb moments that jun somehow managed to drag youngjae into because of his own hot temper or stupidity -- but the other had always been so fucking soft, he was like the inside of a boiled ramen egg. jun had never seen him ever be malicious, or mean, and it wasn’t a bad thing, no. if he’d been like jun, they’d both really be fucking dead right now, and for good, not just disappearing for years. his gentler temperament was always a good counter for jun’s impulsivity -- that’s probably one of the reasons why jun didn’t end up killed, years back when he’d mainly been living on his own..

the older feels a wetness at his neck, and he almost wants to scoff; it’s too familiar a feeling, too familiar an occurence that is like deja vu. it’s not youngjae if he doesn’t cry, much less crying into jun, but he’d found a soft spot in his damn heart, made a home in it ages ago and he was bringing it out again. anyone else, he’d probably have pushed away, but not youngjae. he was like a younger brother, someone he felt a strong need to protect.

staring down at youngjae, yeah, his senses were right and he is crying, but that’s the nearly exact same face that’s unmistakable. he looks much better smiling ‘cause it lights up a fucking room, but he’s seen this face many times too. aah, the damn fucker hasn’t changed one bit. looks a bit older, and something in his eyes is slightly different, but ain’t much changed.

“ya dumbass, why the fuck you apologisin’ for still bein’ alive? ‘m guessin’ somethin’ happened ...? should really be me ‘pologisin’ for not bein’ able to really be there for ya when it happened--” he manages a snort, before pulling youngjae into another tight hug, but more brief this time. “man, there’s so much shit i gotta tell ya-- you got time right now, ganga-jae? still can’t fuckin’ believe ya ain’t dead, what the fuck, man...”

[mixdodger-blog]

blooming blue

seeking the aid of @karmami ; dated 2016

tw ; injuries, profanity, mentions of sex

‘ugh ... fuck ...’

he stumbled -- tripped, basically -- along the flat rooftop an apartment somewhere in yeonggi. he was dizzy from knocks to the head and his chest and a broken nose, his brain probably being fucking suffocated by the minute as he struggled to breathe as he made his further escape. he’d lost the guy a while back, a few rooftops away, but he knew it was only by the hair of a rat and sheer dumb luck. any other chance, and he’d probably be dead fucking meat right now.

that guy really packed a fucking punch, and was by no means a light-weight. he knew his shit and wasn’t afraid to cross lines. 

yeah, accepting the offer for that job seemed stupid now, but the money glittered brighter than the risks that jun damn well knew were involved. his ego can get fucking big at times, and he gets full of himself, biting of more than he can fucking chew. it’s like dudes thinkign they’re all that with their dicks and that their fuck game is as tight as whatever they think they’re fucking, but it’s actually shittier than they think. not that jun is a shit lay -- he’s had more than just a handful of fucks, thanks -- but y’know, it’s that whole metaphors or whatever. he thought he was better than he was, and got caught.

he got cocky, was what it was, and paid for it. well, sort of. he got away, but the pain sure ain’t seem like it.

‘better than being dead, suppose.’

eventually, figuring it’s safe enough to head back down to street level, he attempted a descent from a fire escape, only to wince in intense pain and slip, his strength in his arms failing him and his body landed heavily into a pile of trash.

great. just fucking great. he doesn’t need to smell like fucking shit now too.

but he does, and he groaned, pulling himself to his feet. he had to really find medical help soon ... where was he though? in the whole chase and escape, he’d lost his bearings. he just picked a direction to head down in the street, every step a struggle and every gasp so fucking hard, until he saw a sign for a clinic. the light kind of still seemed on? a bubble of hope swelled in him; he hoped someone was still in there, even though it was quite late by now.

‘fuck ... please ... someone be in there ...’

“agh ... h-hello? hello!?” banging on the door, he leaned against it as he tried the handle, one hand holding his side as his other did a fucking bad job of doing what it was supposed to do.

[mixdodger-blog]

feed for the rat

cared for by @bvllami ; backdated to 2012

he didn’t need her anymore. not after all that shit, not after all her ‘i know what’s best for you’ preaching that he didn’t fucking need. did she even know him, really? no, she don’t. stuck so up on her high horse, he was that one last stain on her perfect record she’d tried so hard to scrub clean.

well, good for her now, ‘cause ain’t he ever going back to her. finally, she can live a life without his shit-stain of a self holding her down, like she’s probably always wanted.

but ... jun ain’t had much to his name, ever, and he’d only taken whatever he could grab in the moment from his drawers and dresser to stuff into his backpack. it had been irrational, fully driven by emotional, but jun wasn’t going to go back on his word. he was stubborn, and didn’t like being told what to do, so much so he’d rather end up on the streets, believing he could fend for himself, than actually admit any sort of apology first.

he ain’t smart, but he could be resourceful. he could hit up some friends, right? crash at theirs while he hunted around for a job to earn some dime, and also actually ... be able to do what he wanted now, no curfew, no one to really report to--

just him, and himself.

the cold city life wasn’t as welcoming as he initially thought it could be though; his fantasies of adjusting and finding his own little niche to survive were just fantasies, and with no money and no real home no more, he was hungry -- like, fucking starving -- and it gave him little choice. wet from the rain, he headed in to swizz, a bar he knew must have some sort of food. his mind was running through with ways to get some food and escape as he carefully sat down, gaze darting around as he tried to map out the number of staff around, watchful eyes that he needed to make sure he could stay out of or avoid getting caught by.

[mixdodger-blog]

dim placeholder

killing time with @weijunxmi

“jun,” a small voice said to him, a voice of calm reasoning that was always too fucking annoying and too fucking naggy a hundred-percent of the time (and always right, seventy-percent of the time), “do you really think it’s a good idea to be coming in here, at a time like this, after all the shit that went down about a month or so ago?”

jun’s no complete dumbass; he’s heard of the rumours in some grapevines -- the real sour kind, that he wouldn’t want to touch with a broom or nothing -- about connections to a gang, and a big one at that, so it ain’t no small fry gang just dealing some small coke or anything out back. he tries to just ... keep all that shit aside. if he ain’t bring it up or press about it, there ain’t no bad atmosphere around. that’s usually how it goes; not always because he has fucking been punched in the face ‘cause of other things, but that’s peaches and eggplants.

two different things, with a whole lot of juice in one and weird skin on the other.

so, yeah, he’s finding his way back into the grotto, eyes casually scanning the crowd in the dim lit club. it’s always so damn dark in here that it makes his eyes hurt from all the squinting, and the coloured lighting is just weird. couldn’t they have been fucking normal and used some plain old bulbs like everyone else? but it’s something about ‘mood lighting’ he bets; does the bad lighting make it easier to trick the dudes in here that the girls are super, duper hot?

he sees a waiter with a mop every now and again. probably to mop up all the drool or something, or someone prematurely nutting themselves. fucking ew.

“oh-- heeey! boss man! there ya are!” spotting who he only really comes in here for, even though it’s a club and he does do a fair amount of clubbing himself, he raises an arm and gives an enthusiastic wave to try to get his attention. the old sad fucker is always ignoring him, probably because he’s got such a big stick up his ass. still, doesn’t really stop jun from asking the same old question every single time he’s in the grotto.

“was lookin’ all over for ya~ hey, ya finally free tonight to hang? the city out there’s got ya name all over it--”

[mixdodger-blog]

[ ooc note !! ]

tldr; i got a bad cold this week and went mia

hey guys!! i know i basically dropped off the earth this week with activity here, and i’m sorry ;AA; acceptance usually happen in the middle of my work days, and i’m not able to be on when it happens usually. i tend to get around to welcomes/plotting/replis once the weekend rolls around, but this week i’ve been down with a bad cold and tbh .. congested sinuses and constant sneezing are no mood for rp. 

trying to get back into the swing of things now though, and i know i have a bunch of things to write up/people to get back to, but if i’ve left you hanging for too long i may have forgotten bc everything has been a blur dfgbkdg but give me a nudge to let me know if you’re still keen! otherwise i’ll be hitting people up again!

[minw]

[mixdodger-blog]

minw‌:

가디스 - 이별파티 MV

[chaexmi-blog]

not here.

[mixdodger-blog]

chaexmi‌:

@mixdodger​ — tw / intentional drugging.

The small capsule dissolves like a puff of magic as it becomes one with the bitter liquid. Except it’s not magic, it’s pure science. He sighs visibly as he turns towards the restaurant section of the establishment and wonders why he isn’t just eating a high class dinner on this fine evening like a normal person? Because the company isn’t doing it for him; they’re all rival gang members, for all he knows, and he doesn’t want to be among that particular audience. Hyungwon hears someone cough over his shoulder and watches as the person relieves themselves of their lunch a mere ten feet away from him. It’s a struggle not to smile at the prospect of the foreseeable suffering; a gift just for him. At least the drug is working. 

It’s a little more crowded tonight than the previous week, he notices, what with the fair amount of young bodies by the bar and on the floor, and he really wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the marvelous opportunity it gives him. Hyungwon gets to blend in with everybody else, just like he wants, and be invisible again; provided that his height isn’t a cause for concern. Sometimes he thinks that he’s in the wrong profession, because people look at doctors like they’re something special when all they’ve done is fight off dying in medical school to not die in residency while subsequently trying to save people in the aftermath of their stupid mistakes. But it’s safe, and secure, and he’s viewed as a harmless individual who wouldn’t dare harm another living being; except he was doing just that, and he adored it.

Much to the dismay of his records, he doesn’t always keep track of the amount of people he causes suffrage to. Sometimes, he doesn’t stick around long enough to watch the inevitable asphyxiation, seizure, or otherwise. Although Hyungwon would absolutely love to, the most important thing is that he doesn’t get caught doing it. It’s all for fun, and it’s all for science. After all, creating the most undetectable drug on the planet isn’t going to happen overnight.

The black-haired male files through the ever growing slew of alcohol and dumb decisions to get to the bar. The bartender looks preoccupied on the other side of the bar, so he waves him over to order a drink he doesn’t quite know to get yet. “Excuse me!”

working at a restaurant/bar ain’t the most glamourous of jobs -- the crow’s nest is professional, yeah, and classified as a ‘family restaurant’, but come a certain time it ain’t really that family friendly. the bar becomes more popular, as does the dining section, but it’s a different kind of crowd and it’s a whole ‘nother set of orders. it ain’t parents with kids; it’s people who have backgrounds that have both been in the fucking sewers and prob through other shit that he’d take all night to list -- he wouldn’t put it past some of them if they’ve also eaten shit too, and in the very literal sense. he ain’t gonna ever ask if it was on purpose or not, though -- he ain’t want those images in his fucking head next he sees ‘em come in and as he’s serving ‘em their weekly choice of liquid poison. really, he’s seen his fair number of shitshows and ain’t want to willingly have another shoved into his memories.

with all of that as background then, it ain’t unusual for some weird things to go down at least once a night, when he’s working. yeah, people drink way too much and don’t fucking know their limits, and then puke everywhere and it’s a fucking gross-as pain to clean up. people also fall asleep, knock out, cause fights and shit -- all sorts. the fights are less tolerated; the big ol’ boss (he ain’t really big, height-wise or weight-wise, but he’s the manager) doesn’t really stand for that kind of rubble, and even less when it endangers the staff.

he’s seen jihoon step in more than once in his time, and whew does he act without mercy. the smile he can have in his face ain’t really fooling him; jun knows there’s some sort of evil inside there that takes no shit.

but lately, the weird of kind shit that’s been happening ain’t seem right, and for some reason it’s only been to the customers at the bar. yeah, sure, people can choke every now and again because they don’t fucking know how to swallow like any other decent human being, but the girl he saw have a seizure wasn’t all that old. don’t only old people have that shit happen to them, ‘cause their brains stop working or something? he doesn’t know the specifics, but it just seemed a bit weird. still, it didn’t stop him from still doing his job. he’s one of the two bartenders on tonight, and is over on the other side finishing up a refill of ice cubes for the bucket, when he hears a patron calling him over. making sure to fix a small smile onto his face, he straightens and heads over, unassuming of anything about the man he’s about to serve.

“yes, sir? what can i fix up for ya tonight?”

[lgchyunjin]

our summer.

[mixdodger-blog]

midongmin‌:

@mixdodger

click. the door locked. and with that, the end of one chapter brought the start of the next one, as he could finally have a night off without having to wake up early the next day. and he took full advantage of this, dongmin was no idiot. sometimes with donghae being busy in the evening allowed him perhaps too much freedom to go off to do other things. which- well. dongmin didn’t stray too far, and often did what most parents and people his age found rather homebody-like. it wasn’t his fault he liked staying at home and being in the comforts of his television, computer, technology galore. but sometimes an evening to let loose was necessary too. especially considering the client that had barked up a fight with him after jun had left earlier today; dongmin often did not let customers or other people’s commentary bother him but today, the lady had pushed him to his limits on ‘the customer is always right’ to the brink. 

“dooon’t even-” when jun looked like he was about to say something, dongmin cutting him off immediately with a wave of his hand, “i know, i look miserable. let’s just say, some days i wish i didn’t work in customer service.” yes he certainly got his degree, but he wasn’t prepared to transition out of this life quite yet.

“alright, so you got your freebies earlier today.” dongmin nudged jun playfully in the elbow, considering all the things. the conversation honestly would sound much sketchier out of context. and this wasn’t bribery- he’d give his friends free food. all the time. sometimes. maybe with a bit of pressure. okay, bargaining tactics. they all do it. “what’s in it for me? you didn’t forget already, did you?” 

days off were a nice little extra joy in his life sometimes, and most times jun would go about doing things to prevent himself being bored -- which, unfortunately, happened far too fucking often. he wasn’t no goldfish or nothing, but he had to be kept busy, ‘else he’d find his own version of ‘fun’, and that wasn’t always safe, or legal in the, uhh ... traditional sense. he never really harmed people that much with his activities -- maybe some minor inconveniences every now and again -- but they all lived, yeah? and come a week later, they’d probably not even remember it in the mix of everything else.

jun was typically a creature of habit; he had his favourite spots, some from nostalgia, some just ‘cause he liked it there. so even if there might be other bakeries around -- ones that were closer and still in the city centre -- wild-flours was one of those good spots that he would still make the trip out to mimyo for. yeah, there weren’t much else in the dead-as-fuck village that reminded him far too much of those ‘so pleasant the residents have gotta be part of a murderous cult’ villages, but he’d risk it for a taste of the bakery’s goods. that was how much he liked their stuff (and, maybe it was because kyungri used to buy them treats from there, when they could afford it as kids).

so, while his ‘bargaining’ had been successful earlier, and he’s exited happily with a fluffy bun of bread in his hand, it had come at the cost of a promise to take dongmin out later that night, to run some riots in town.

not actual riots, ‘cause the kid was still young and kind of too nice to get into all of that stuff, but y’know, jun just had to show him how to have a good time ‘round the city.

and, true to his end of the promise, he’d turned back up at the bakery just as dongmin was locking up, his mouth opening to say something when he caught sight of the look on the kid’s face -- he looked like shit -- but he got cut off before he could. in place of a too-honest comment, a grin was taken up on his lips instead, arms crossing over his chest as he waited.

“yo, ‘course i ain’t forget. i got a memory like an elephant, ya know?” he replied, jabbing at his own temple a few times to emphasise his point. “and i ain’t really break promises much, trust me.” his words are contradictory, but he brushes past it. “hope ya ain’t got no early curfew tonight.

“... ya don’t, right? ‘cause i ain’t want no police bein’ called after me for a case of kidnappin’ or a missin’ person report bein’ filed on ya ‘n’ me bein’ the primary sus’.”

[mixdodger-blog]

missing now found

reunited with @yyoungjaemi

trust is a fickle little thing to jun these days. it’s hard to gain maintain, but even harder to gain from him. with a giant fucking skeleton in his closet that would risk not only himself but, more importantly, his sister, chances couldn’t be taken. despite his shitty ability to be accountable for his own actions, as well as act with foresight to how it could implicate himself and others, he still really cared about her. yeah, their relationship wasn’t always fucking pretty butterflies and nice-as smelling roses, but she was still fam -- the only fam.

outside of that, he could probably count on one hand the people he still trusted. they were mostly all people he’s known for years, who he knew had stuck by him, could still stick by him, and he’d do the same. they’d become family to him, in his budding teens years, when his own family life was going down the drain like shit water after bad chinese food. they’d become his no-blood-shared familly, and not much could change that--

even years and years of no contact.

“... the fuck--”

holding a coffee cup in his hand -- because the time was fucking early right now and he was still hungover but needed to be up and running -- he abruptly halted in his path out of the cafe, a face and figure catching his attention, one that was way too fucking familiar but it ... didn’t really make sense. sometimes, jun could be drunk enough to see shit, but not today. no, definitely not. he knew he was sober (as sober as one could be after drinking to midnight; an early night for jun, really), but the person he was seeing... he was sure he’d thought was dead.

“yo ...youngjae? youngjae, that you!?”

he starts to walk towards the other male, his last few steps grow quicker and he practically plows into him, coffee spilling through the mouth opening of the cup lid as his arms wrap around the guy first, before he pulls back to check if he’s actually hugging whoever he’s thought this person to be, eyes studying his features intently.

he really can’t be mistaken. that’s youngjae’s face -- ganga-jae’s face (a nickname from a dumb play-on-words with his name and the word for ‘puppy’) -- and definitely his eyes, albeit .. he looks older. and a little different. but ... still the same.

“the fuck, man-- where’ve you been!? we all thought ya were long dead--”

[myeongchokrp]

[mixdodger-blog]

myeongchokrp‌:

This is a randomly generated sentence starter meme for everyone! You’ll be able to reblog this meme for fourteen days starting today, but feel free to continue answering memes after that if need be. Go wild with them and have a good time! Also feel free to use this for sentence starters or drabbles; the most important thing is to get everyone writing. Hopefully, it’ll spark some new plot ideas and interactions too!

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Keep reading

[mixdodger-blog]

mixjinah‌:

;;gamble your luck on my dice

Jin-ah isn’t as close to many phoenix members as many would like to believe, or the prostitute herself would often sell to others as a part of the togetherness front she always seemed to have with Phoenix. She doesn’t really see forming connections as necessary, because weak links and emotional infatuations with others were never always the greatest ideas in books of her history.

She’s not really…eager to know the other phoenix members, but unaffiliated member were always a treasure, no matter wherever they were and as and when she found them.

It’s really just a delicate thing that she does when she first hears from others that the part time bartender in one of the bars was being eyed upon by phoenix. She was pretty much bored anyway, on her days off–so Jin-ah saw nothing wrong with doing Phoenix a little favour of trying to hook the little fish that they had wanted.

It’s an effortless slide into the bars counter, a faint but troubled sigh on her lips as she lazily brushes her eye across the male bartender before her, drinking him in with a silently morose look in her eye.

“Care to hit me with one of your greatest mixes? I’m looking for something that’s going to knock me clean out.” It’s just the right amount of a mumble to attract the attention of regular men, especially male’s that looked like the one before her, sweet but ruggedly handsome. She’d learnt that such men were almost always tender and kindhearted, unless they were pretty much freaks of nature like herself, or a great actor. “I’m just looking for a something to make me forget.” A slight, wane smile was shot in the male’s direction, fatigue and misery clear in her dark but expressive eyes.

The fatigue was pretty much real, though the misery was pretty much not.

@mixdodger

it’s been a usual night -- not too busy, not too dull. it’s the real dull nights that drag like a dead man’s body, and in those shifts he ends up passing the time with his coworkers. don’t get him wrong, they ain’t a bad bunch; it’s just two different speeds of time flying. the guys and girls are friendly enough at the crow’s nest, and look after each other’s back. you kind of have to, with the kind of establishment it is, and the kind of people that can pass by. jun ain’t no squeaky clean shoe, but even he can recognise some real rats when he sees them.

he’s idly wiping down the counter, not really that rushed, not really needing to mop up too much of a mess apart from some condensation from glasses, when a new face sits down in front of him. a sigh reaches his ears just as he glances up at her, their eyes meeting as she rakes her gaze over him. she’s not an unattractive lady; physically, she’s quite pretty. he wonders if he’s seen her somewhere before, but he doesn’t really recall. he also wonders what she’s doing at a bar like this, as it’s usually one or the other -- you prefer the mid-end, casual environment instead of a pub or a fancy restaurant, or you’ve got business to be done here.

he doesn’t think too much of it. he’s seen his fair share of interesting patrons.

“careful askin’ for somethin’ like that, miss,” he replies, a small friendly smile on his lips, pausing in his clean up, “’least ya really wanna just end up on the floor right there. i really could give ya somethin’ t’ knock ya out, but can’t guarantee y’d wake up from it.” smile widening a little more, his demanour kept professional, he still walks off a little ways to grab his shaker and the liquids he’ll need. 

“‘m kiddin’. ain’t allowed to kill no one. boss won’t allow it.” jun jokes about this, but in reality it’s a grey area here. it ain’t ideal, nor should be a frequent happening, but he himself isn’t against standing up for himself if he needs to.

after a couple minutes of measuring and mixing, he strains out the drink into a double old fashioned glass with a bit of ice and slides it over to her, dainty straw sticking out of it and all. “tastes a bit sweet, but don’t let that fool ya. thought it might be fittin’.”

[mixdodger-blog]

 c a l l  h i m  l a z y

[mixdodger-blog]

strip and sand

[mixdodger-blog]

katanaxmi‌:

“Mm, notta fat ass! Ooof s-shorty—shorty!” Kaisei didn’t recognize his own too loud voice, as his legs just sorta melted beneath him in the sand. Oh sand! Soft sandy sand. Pretty soft sand. Maybe he should just lay here. Yes that was an excellent idea. He rolled on his side and waited for the Earth to stop spinning. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d truthfully been anything close to “this” drunk. Sure he had been drinking since he was fourteen, frankly it was a necessary evil in some respects, but even in those blurry times he had quickly taught himself control early on. You couldn’t fight and break Hydrus soldier jaws properly if you couldn’t even stand up, besides he frankly didn’t like the headaches, dehydration, and memory lapses too much alcohol brought. 

If he punched you he damn well wanted to remember he had… 

Tonight was different. Tonight he wasn’t Katana pretending to be wasted in enemy territory in order to lure in bait, this time he really was wasted. Like pink elephants, and fluffy sand dreams wasted. Jun was a dare he say it? Maybe a new “friend”? The guy was definitely someone that he could actually be his own age of nineteen with sans his usual weary worldly caution. Jun was no one, not Hydrus, not Columba, not criminal—not any anything (he had him checked out), and Kaisei liked that. He liked it a lot. Jun was just a regular guy (something Kaisei knew very little of), a bartender. He probably should stay away from the guy for both their own good, but it was hard not to like some one who just seemed to enjoy life as much as Jun did. 

Besides—bartender… .so yea free drinks was a nice friendly perk.

Drinking with any bartender was never so much fun as it was with a bartender like Jun, who really knew his way around some quality brain cell dissolving cocktails. Like a mad scientist, the dude had mixed up wild things for them in weird colors smelling of sharp fruit tang and creamy sweets. Half of which Kaisei was pretty sure probably qualified as literal poison in some countries, and all of which they’d both drank in rapid one-upmanship succession. Drinking one shot after another on childish dares until everything had become a flashy glitter ball of colors and sounds. Someone had suggested the beach he thinks it might of been him, and then they both had stumbled their way to the shore.

“Wah—wait. How ya’ gonna swim? No suit!” Had he missed the part where Jun (who was maybe suddenly a twin now, he wasn’t quite sure), had brought with him some swim trunks? More importantly where are his swim trunks? Maybe he could borrow some from Jun’s new twin and hope they didn’t cut off the circulation in his groin.

tw ; profanity

he hears calls behind him, words making fun of his height, and in his intoxication he finds himself offended, pausing to turn around and stumble through the lava-like sand in hideji’s direction, pointing (not-all-that) threatening finger in the equally drunk younger man’s direction.

“wha’ the fuck ya say, fat ass?” he slurs, frowning and tripping, hands just quick enough still to stop him from landing face-first; thank god, because sand ain’t tasty at all. he knows, because it’s just ground up rocks and shit, and it’s gritty and ain’t chewable. anything that’s irritating up the ass definitely ain’t good in the mouth.

getting drunk this bad wasn’t uncommon for jun, and he was always on the hunt for new buddies to spend a good time with. his learned expertise with alcohols did mean he knew some deadly stuff that could waste a cow -- not that he often wasted his bar patrons this bad. his job was a different situation. off-shift, though, meant he could get as pissed as he wanted, so long as he turned up to work when he needed to still, all professional and such.

not often he also found someone who could get just as wasted as he could without tapping out, and also go get wild with him.

“why ‘on’t ya come ‘ere ‘n’ say that!?” he starts to crawl, but then the sound of waves reaches his ears again, and he lifts himself up halfway to look behind him. oh, yeah, the beach. a swim. that’s what he really wanted. the whole idea of cool, refreshing waves all over his body re-entered his mind and, fuck, he really needed to be in there, right then, right now, and his clothes were wholly in the way.

why the fuck were they a thing, anyway? just a whole bunch of nonsence and a nuisance. you had to pull ‘em down to pee, and to change ‘em all the time, wash ‘em, and they’d get caught on shit all the time and then tear a fucking hole, and then you’d have to buy new ones -- it was like taking care of a fucking baby. except ... you wore ‘em--

a swim. right. clothes, gotta come off.

“the fuck i’d needa suit, maaan?” jun hollers over at wherever hideji has fallen; he thinks he can kind of see his shape, but he really just looks like a dark shadow and is really blending into the shadows of the sand dunes. he’s not being eaten up by the sand, is he? anyway, he’s too busy shucking off his annoying as fuck shirt, followed by his pants. “ain’t need no-- no fuckin’ suit-- my skin’s all i need! get ‘n ya skin, hideji!”

water. now. he needs to be in there.