L’APPEL DU VIDE

i think i might've inhaled you. i can feel you behind my eyes—you've gotten into my bloodstream. i can feel you flowing in me. shim changmin remy · bartender & model · gifted with fire · from paris · alpha co-captain

[rmchangmin-blog]

replies will be up within the next day or so! —they need to not be in my drafts half done and collecting dust omg

[kawaiipickle]

Changmin going to Japan 

(aka.turning the airport into his private runway)

[fancam]

[rmchangmin-blog]

little red riding hood ❇ JSJ

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf, big bad wolf, big bad wolf? Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? Tra la la la la.

The punch had been spiked almost as soon as it’d been poured. He could tell, not because it radiated the pungent smell of liquor—they’d gotten too smart for that, funnily enough—but because the liquid lingered on his tongue in a way far too familiar to ever truly mistake. That slow burn slid down his throat slowly, warming his chest in all the right ways—and all the wrong, considering it was wise to have his wits about him around a house full of horny, drunk, super-powered frat boys.

Alphas; a truly great breed.

His profession—one of them—didn’t allow for him to give easy sway to liquor. Instead, he hovered at the edge of the room, leaning against a wall decorated with any number of posters, red plastic cups, and a massive trophy case dedicated to the one thing that truly mattered in the Alpha house: Victory. Though, he couldn’t say one way or the other whether or not that tradition could or would continue, watching them now.

Lips curved around the edge of his own cup, the co-captain watched the crowd; spectacular demonstrations of power collided—and in the rare case, co-existed—with drunken young adults standing too close in costumes too tacky to warrant any sexual behavior. As if reminded of his own predicament, Changmin tapped his snout and released something of a huff before going in search of something else to do with his time.

Astonishingly enough, he’d only broken up two fights, only fished one dangling pledge from the roof, and only an hour had passed since the doors had been opened to the general public. Already, his head thrummed lightly to the beat of the music; more in tune than the idle swing of his gait as he slipped into the kitchen and toyed with the idea of making himself a sandwich.

For all of the time spent at parties; whether behind the bar, or in the center of the room, Shim Changmin had never been the type to party. That would likely never change.

He settled then, for making his presence known in subtle ways; offering smiles to the women who shuffled around in equal parts amusement and—on the part of the lotus legacy members—barely disguised disgust, or an unsympathetic pat on the head to any poor fuck who managed to overindulge on the punch. (That happened more often than not.)

Upon entering, however, he was stopped short—frozen, for a short minute—at the sight playing out before him. For the first time, unsure, the male spoke to a turned back that vaguely resembled Jung Soojung.

“Didn’t umma teach you to kneel when you drop something?”

[rmchangmin-blog]

when’d they start admitting rabid dogs into school, hmm?

[rmchangmin-blog]

natural instinct ❇ LH

[rmluhan-deactivated20150504]

            Like most others who staffed the sparring rings, their facilitator looked none too pleased to be there, eyes half closed and gazing off to the side as he spoke like he was seriously contemplating pulling out a book to read or something instead of watching them. The words were ones Lu Han had heard many times before; like his combatant, he was no stranger to the ring. Admittedly, though, most facilitators at least tried to act like they cared a little bit more; usually there was a line in there about penalties for going too far and the like, though the other may have simply curtailed his speech in favor of Changmin’s evident impatience. At his opponent’s invitation to begin, Lu Han looked up at him, blinking serenely as he surveyed the surroundings with a quick glance; the room was designed for multipurpose combat to suit fighters of all kinds, giving no indication as to what the other might opt for. It came down, eventually, to seeing what his power was. Though his face held a note of familiarity – was he Alpha or Gamma? – Lu Han couldn’t possibly distinguish him completely from the blurred masses of his memory, much less recall his gift.

            Nothing like sparring to solve the mystery, he supposed. ❝ Yes, of course, ❞ he replied softly, stepping up then to the other end of the mat, testing its buoyancy with a light shift from foot to foot. Then, bringing his hands up into light fists, he sank into a faint crouch, eyes on his opponent, adrenaline beginning to surge into his nerves as his body recognized the conditions of his fighting stance. Slight though he may be, Lu Han did have a distinct style; bereft of a power with destructive capabilities on his own, he relied more heavily on standard close combat, which is what he had trained in for the last five years. Being smaller in frame than many of his male opponents also set him at a physical disadvantage, but these were setbacks he had learned to compensate for.

            Rule number one of his personal combat style – never attack first.

[rmchangmin-blog]

Games such as these were all about patience. Changmin would’ve been the first to acknowledge that, after reading enough historical materials to fill a small library during grade school. War was excellent because it involved equal parts instinct and intellect; he was in no shortage of either. For all of his seeming impatience, it was for the simple fact that he had no desire to stand and listen to a lecture he’d heard at least twenty times in the past month. “Thank you.”

Changmin spoke easily enough to the man, who nodded slightly and took a step back. From the depths of his back pocket, he produced a small novel and flipped it over to a worn—clearly loved—page. All the while, the Alpha co-captain never quite removed his attention from his opponent. As he tested the mat, Changmin tipped his weight lightly from one foot to another before balancing himself again.

With no single indication as to what Han was capable of, it was obvious he’d have to play things close to the vest until he figured it out.

Though it didn’t seem as if either of them would be getting anywhere anytime soon.

Immediately, he took note of the stance offered to him. Careful to guard himself, the male opposite him made a transformation of sorts; what had been boyish turned hardened—sinewy bits of muscle peeked out from underneath thin fabric. Perhaps this wouldn’t be quite so boring.

To his credit, he made no move forward. If anything, he took his time in regarding Han, with his arms still at his sides—poised to defend or attack, expectant. “Your move?”

It seemed as if their first battle would be one of wills.

[rmchangmin-blog]

dance with the devil ❇ OPEN

Ah, this was the fun part of things. From his perch on the rooftop edge, Changmin could see the entirety of the campus, strung with lights and signs in the immediate vicinity pointing any and all visitors to the roaring party just below his feet. If the music was any louder, the vibrations might’ve been felt through the layers of concrete, wood and the rubber of his boots. “Nice weather, isn’t it?” He glanced down then, hands tucked primly into his pockets—what a contradiction; a proper wolf—while he took in the sight before him.

Perhaps he might’ve found it less amusing, if the night hadn’t been so auspicious; if the liquor hadn’t tasted so strongly and sweetly on his tongue. Changmin chuckled then, tipping his weight forward to catch a better glimpse of wide, glazed eyes and clawing fingertips. The male dangling from the rain gutter, bare feet shivering in the night air, didn’t find it nearly as funny.

How sad.

“What legacy are you?” It was important to ask, after all. One—especially a co-captain—didn’t offer their assistance to just anyone, particularly when it could’ve very well been an Alpha that had put him there. “Gamma?” His hand lifted then, thumb grazing the very tip of his chin before his index tapped. He was in need of a shave. “Alpha?”

God forbid.

Changmin knelt, balancing his weight carefully on the tips of his boots; breathing deeply past the plastic snout practically glued to his nose. Footsteps at his rear went ignored for the most part—though a glance over his shoulder revealed another party goer, perhaps as curious as he about this strange turn of events.

“Oh, we have company.”

[hosigie]

Visit Original Link

[rmchangmin-blog]

quit playing ❇ OPEN

The big bad wolf was in town. He walked the hallways, clad in little more than an old pair of jeans and a white tank top—with a novelty wolf snout strapped on for effect—while whistling a little tune to draw forth his little red riding hood. Cliché? Maybe, but Shim Changmin couldn’t be bothered to care and for their parts, no one else did either. The first years stood out like sore thumbs, he was vaguely proud to say, prodding at uncomfortable costumes while their seniors strutted about wearing whatever fancied them.

Was he taking advantage of his position? Yes.

Shamelessly, at that.

Running a hand through his hair, the wolf made a leisurely path through the growing crowds. All but a few were talking amongst themselves; enjoying the rich buffet—worthy of the Alpha house, no doubt—and maybe some friendly conversation. The lull of voices was, of course, broken then by the shattering of glass on the polished wooden floors.

Maybe not.

“Great…” Changmin murmured under his breath, milling in the direction of the sound in much the way that someone did when they had no intention of arriving within the next ten minutes. His steps meandered, circling around ill-placed seats and girls wearing corsets tight enough to constrict his own breathing just by looking at them. Only then did he take notice of the occupants of the large room itself, as dark eyes flicked slowly over one face after another—

“Now what do we have here?”

[rmchangmin-blog]

natural instinct ❇ LH

[rmluhan-deactivated20150504]

            That the staff who were brave enough ( or perhaps desperate enough ) to work in the sparring gyms had something of a reputation amongst themselves was no secret. Some, having occupied the position for years now, were accustomed to the unfettered aggression of Gumi’s students, too jaded to be impressed by shows of power and gravitas identical to those of the generations before them. Gentleness was not their wont, and Lu Han supposed he understood; to be in a position like theirs, he guessed that roughness was necessary to offset the equally bad attitudes of most people at the school. Whether it was the correct way to run things, he couldn’t say, but it was certainly one way of doing it.

            ❝ Lu Han … ❞ the man behind the desk glanced down at the laminated folder in his hands. ❝ Shim Changmin’s your opponent. Arena three. Oh, and Lu Han. ❞ Already having replied with a ‘ thank you ’ and beginning to set off on his way, the young man paused, glancing over his shoulder. ❝ You know the rules. I don’t want a repeat of last time. ❞ Flushing slightly, Lu Han simply bowed with a soft ‘ yes, I understand ’ before departing.

            To be fair, he never i n t e n d e d to send anyone to the health center, nor did he ever intend to get himself landed there — it somehow just ended up happening more often than not. Even now, as he quickly jogged down the stairs to the arenas, a low thrum filled his blood at the thought of this spar. It little compared to the true rush of a monster cage, but the promise of a good opponent and the heady rush of pain and adrenaline seeped into his nervous system like a drug. Finally he stepped in the door, greeting both his opponent and their facilitator with respectful bows and soft ❝ hello ❞s. He set his bag down on the bench against the wall, flexing his hands against the tight, thick bandages wrapped about them to check their elasticity one more time before turning to his opponent with a little smile. Vague memories told him he’d seen him somewhere before, but that wasn’t uncommon for the fifth year, who had glimpsed just about everyone on campus not newly matriculated. ❝ I’m Lu Han; nice to meet you. ❞

[rmchangmin-blog]

“I’m Shim Changmin. Nice to meet you.” He murmured in return, fingers tapping against his side before his hands disappeared in his pockets. Though he seemed much smaller—slimmer—by comparison, that said nothing about what he might’ve been capable of.

No, he hadn’t come into the arrangement with any expectations. Or at least, none other than a good sweat worked up and a—perhaps—hard-fought victory. Who came into a sparring room expecting to lose? His confidence in himself extended just far enough to warrant a smile to the male entering the room. True to form, the referee—as Changmin had chosen to call the man simply standing there as if the world could come crashing down around his shoulders and he wouldn’t care—simply nodded and began his speech, “I trust that you both understand the rules. This is a spar; we’re not responsible for any injuries sustained if either of you get overzealous.”

He glanced between the two, and Changmin looked to the new presence; Lu Han—“I think we know the rules.”

Or at least, he hoped.

In either case, he wasn’t too keen on standing around and doing nothing, and he certainly couldn’t afford to waste time. Work was waiting, in any case. “Are you ready to go then?” Changmin lifted a hand to his hair and pushed back a few stray strands. All the while, his footing shifted; leading him backward to the edge of a large mat. It spanned a large portion of the room—one clearly built for long-range and short-range combat—and ended just where the other man stood, waiting.

“Schedules to keep and all that.”

[tohoshinqui]

the many faces of changmin

[rmchangmin-blog]

natural instinct ❇ LH

A neutral party. What a laughable concept, if there was such a thing in the world. The man standing at the edge of the training ground—donning a striped shirt reminscent of sporting events rather than anything remotely serious—had caught his eye from the moment he'd entered, pushing gloves from the tips of his fingers to envelop his wrist.

It'd do no good to damage his hands if he could avoid it. He had a living to make.

"So, how does this work?" The question slipped out half-heartedly, though a brow raised in curiosity as the male shook his head. A breath released like a cloud of cool air, and at last—after no less than five minutes of absolute silence—he spoke.

"We'll wait for your opponent to get here. I don't feel like explaining things twice."

How lazy. With an amused snort, Changmin turned on his heel and knelt to dig around in his bag for a good replacement shirt. If Han was worth his time, he'd need one after this little spar.

Where was he anyways?

[rmchangmin-blog]

a place for ashes ❇ WYF

—you should be taking things slowly. This program isn’t good for you.

There are a million things that are bad for me—and I can’t avoid them all. At what point am I allowed to feel alive?

His words had saved him, again. Or perhaps it was their will, flimsy as it was, that fell beneath the weight of his stubbornness as though they were all merely houses of cards. Changmin was inclined to believe it—though everything logical in him believed the doctors; he was playing with fire—when his phone stopped ringing and he was finally allowed to breathe.

Why did his head feel so heavy then?

He was sure the fear had swallowed all of his confidence whole and spat it into the sink as he brushed his teeth in the morning. (The water washing down the drain was pink, and he had to remind himself not to brush so hard).

The phone rung again. Melodious, shrill tones pierced his self-imposed silence on the rooftop. The access for hung open behind him, steel unmoving in the occasional breeze. “Not right now.” He spoke to it after catching a glance at the ID on the screen, pressing his thumb into the power button until his skin was indented and the device, at last, turned off.

It was only footsteps some seconds later that shattered the quiet completely. Soft footsteps accompanied the faintest scent of cologne and Changmin looked back, if only for a moment. With greater interest did he note the identity of the man, who made his way over with ease. His lips pursed around a nicotine stick that had been perched there—unlit—for the last thirty minutes. He hardly ever made use of the things, but having one at hand served as a catharsis of sorts by itself. At last, he removed it, offering a nod in greeting.

“What brings you up here?”

[rmchangmin-blog]

"I think positive emotion trumps negative emotion every time."

“Do you really now?” His lips curved, expression teetering on the edge of downright disbelieving. Changmin had never considered himself to be a pessimist, but he found the words—the declaration—strange; hard to swallow considering the lengths to which life had shown him just the opposite.It was fear that won out. Anger and pain and destruction.There was nothing positive about those things, though perhaps it was just him—maybe he was the only thing wrong about his life. What an interesting thought. The male smiles, almost entirely to himself; it’d be strange to do much more, despite the fact that he’d already interrupted the man’s conversation with another for the sake of a wholly rhetorical question.“Sorry.” With his half-hearted apology, he turned back to the stack of books on the table before him, and flipped open to the first page.

[rmchangmin-blog]

"Asshole! How did you mess up the carpet?"

“Uh—” Certainly, it wasn’t his most intelligent response, but the male stared down at the stain unbothered by what seemed to be a temporary lapse of mental movement. “For one, those are some very harsh words for a carpet.” His hand hovered over his chest, expression caught in a faux sense of offense, “I didn’t do it. I just happened to be standing here.”Yeah, that didn’t sound suspicious at all.However, with a glance to the hall, he shook his head slowly—almost sadly—and murmured a few careful words, “I’ll have a word with the probable culprits, if I see them!”And he was off.

[vavole]

changmin’s airport fashion; picspam

[rmchangmin-blog]

"I'm sorry. I mistook you for a friend."

“Ah?” Caught off guard by the tap to his shoulder, Changmin turned to regard the new face. With a tilt of his head, he observed the vaguely sheepish curve of her lips and offered a hum in return. Perhaps it was a good day, as the tease that fell from his lips was merely dry—as opposed to the borderline caustic tone that came about on the bad—; “Is there any reason why I couldn’t be a friend?” A brow quirked, the male hardly expects an answer but just the same stands there for a second longer—quiet and still—before his attention inevitably flutters back to the device in his hand, lips quirked.

[rmchangmin-blog]

"I'm sorry, uh, maths was never my strong subject."

“You don’t say?” The words were enunciated slowly, with barely a thought as the male stared down at the bill and change in his hand. A glance around the cafeteria revealed no particular reason for this case of mistaken identity, aside from his rather unfortunate position next to the register. Nevertheless, he offered the young woman an amused look and deposited her money back into her hand, “Your math isn’t bad but I don’t work here.”With that, he turned and made way for the cashier to move to her spot again, leaving the girl to pay for her lunch. If he laughed to himself as he walked away, he could only hope she wasn’t listening too closely.