☆— @rottingc0re
JEON BYEONGHUN (CIRCUS WORKER / THE BLADE ARTIST). '99, he/him, stunt worker. penned by leon, 21+, he/him, for LOVEKILLZ.
LOOK AROUND FOR A PROFILE . . .
RETURN BACK TO THE INTRO . . .
CLICK HERE TO SEE -> CHO MINJI . . . !
Fai_Ryy
YOU ARE THE REASON
ojovivo

JVL

tannertan36
d e v o n

Love Begins
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
Monterey Bay Aquarium

if i look back, i am lost
The Bowery Presents
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Origami Around
noise dept.
macklin celebrini has autism
cherry valley forever
we're not kids anymore.
taylor price

roma★
Today's Document

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@rottingc0re
☆— @rottingc0re
JEON BYEONGHUN (CIRCUS WORKER / THE BLADE ARTIST). '99, he/him, stunt worker. penned by leon, 21+, he/him, for LOVEKILLZ.
LOOK AROUND FOR A PROFILE . . .
RETURN BACK TO THE INTRO . . .
CLICK HERE TO SEE -> CHO MINJI . . . !
FROM @hymnosis ,
like always, jihoo’s texts paint a vivid picture of himself. only this time it’s the complete opposite. without even realising it, his hands tremble as they cradle his phone. lips flattening in consternation while he stares at the chat, waiting.
the buzzing of his phone on the bed is what draws him out of the furrowed brow, lip between his teeth concentration of what he'd been fashioning around the bed post. it's a random sheet, that he'd managed to secure in just about every way except stapling, gluing, welding, permanently attaching it to the frame.
the longer he's here, the more tired, the more paranoid he's going to walk out that door and start showing up on some cameras, and it's not like he hasn't done shit like this before, hasn't tried it all, really. but apparently the asleep version of himself is a bitch, because he finds his way through them all without fail.
a try's a try, though. byeonghun's been frustrated, trying to determine just how secure he could make it, when he reads over his texts, staring at his phone, the door. tosses the knotted sheet on top of his bed and then a jacket over it to half cover it, crossing the room to the door.
[SENT: 12:19AM] Is there a fire?
which really means he's coming, would've opened the door, anyways. a second later, the lock, the slide of the bolt, leaning his shoulder against the frame, finding jihoo there.
"hey, jihoo. are you okay?" he says, concern etched in an expression he doesn't mind clearing from his face. "don't usually show up like this, is all. do you.. want to come in?" he tilts his head, looking down the hallway, both ways, back at jihoo, edging the door back, going with it, to allow him space to come inside with a tilt of his head.
the phone trills. byeonghun waits, at an angle, staring out the darkened window, half looking at the reflection of himself in the glass. a click. "hyung?"
"it's late, why are you up?" there's a smile on byeonghun's lips, despite. he can hear minhyuk shaking his head over the line. "you're the one calling me. what's up?"
"do you remember when i used to read you bedtime stories?" the line crackles, shift of bedsheets. byeonghun thinks about what it would be like at this time of night back home, blue moonlight sliding over the wooden floors, cool night breeze through the open windows. that whisper, at the edge of his ear.
waking up, mud on his hands, no shoes, scratched by branches, clothes soaked with lake water, dripping onto the floor. DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN ONE PULLED YOU UNDER--
"yeah, it was the only way i could fall asleep. that and hearing you shuffle around at night. i still kind of miss it, to be honest. you should come back home sometime soon, hyung."
"do you remember the one story you always asked me for? about the protector in the trees, that used to keep you safe while you slept?"
"why are you asking all of this?"
byeonghun stares out at the trees, swaying in a breeze he can't feel, not like back at home, the darkened branches a blot of ink on the night sky, searching. looking for eyes there, watching, those glowing ones that felt like he could go anywhere and they'd be there, keeping him safe. not unlike the moon, always in the night sky, following him everywhere he went. every time he turned around.
"i don't really know where i got that story from. but you loved it, and when i left, i kept thinking about how i wished that protector would watch over you, while i couldn't."
yellow, glowing eyes. YOU REMEMBER WHAT IT FELT LIKE TO MAKE THE DEAL. YOU CANNOT REMEMBER WHAT IT WAS LIKE BEFORE ONE FOUND YOU--
they're red, in the reflection, now. byeonghun startles, phone slipping from his fingers, turning away from the window.
right in front of him. byeonghun blinks and stares and it's blue, aglow, cold, like the water.
"hyung?" he's been talking, but byeonghun hasn't heard a thing.
"yeah, minhyuk-ah, sorry." a beat. "i'm worried about you, hyung. even when you left, it didn't feel like you were really gone. sometimes it feels like i can still hear you walking. outside, i can still hear your laugh. that voice you made. you were so good, it didn't even sound like you."
"i didn't want you to get bored. you liked the voices." byeonghun says, walking past, collapsing on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"i used to think you were the protector in the trees. you told that story because that was how you felt, like you were keeping us all safe. i think you still do. even the woods never got quiet without you."
the bed dips at the corner, blanket pulled down. byeonghun exhales. cool, at his ankle.
"go to sleep, hyung. it's been too long again."
ONE WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU WHILE YOU WALK.
byeonghun closes his eyes, the call still open, rustling of sheets.
"don't let him get too far this time."
ONE WOULD NOT DREAM OF LETTING HIM GET LOST.
a click of an end of a call. bedsheets rustling. a door slides shut. eyes, watch. blue moonlight, long hallways, a call to home.
FROM @hymnosis ,
at the telltale sound of someone walking by, jihoo’s head turns, grin appearing once he recognises who it was. “oh, hiya hyung,” he greets nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t just caught on all fours, ass out, rummaging through the planters by the lobby. “you settling in ok?”
"hey, jihoo." it had been awhile, but maybe returning back to some things felt as easy as putting on a pair of worn shoes that are reliable enough to get you out and about. it's like this, with byeonghun walking down the hallway, finding someone on the floor, peering into.. a plant.
of course it's jihoo, he finds, once he walks closer, gets a look at his face, hears his voice. honestly, byeonghun had been fiddling around behind some window curtains and getting all tangled up in the heavy fabric, earlier, if it meant that he found just one more blinking little lens to watch out for. it's why he crouches down, elbows on his knees, looking around in the planter too.
"yeah, as good as you can with a million cameras watching. is that what you're looking for? i've been hunting around for these, too." he doesn't think he can see a blinking light, but he doesn't put it past them to get creative with the placements.
"would you be up to looking for more of these, together? they should feel lucky i'm not tearing them out of the walls, at this point. two sets of eyes is definitely better than one."
FROM @5eraphism ,
"it's . . . really nice to see you," a pause, voice so soft, so genuine, a whisper of something so true that it might be able to chase away the lingering shadows. "i'm glad you're here."
he hands the dessert over once they settle down somewhere free, spooning a bite into his mouth as his gaze drifts from the cameras the eyes the people the blinking, red light, the movie, streaming in on film and casting shadows throughout the room, projection an echo. "definitely overwhelming." he echoes, because he still feels the lingering effect of it even after escaping, a smoke, the sweetness of the dessert in his mouth. maybe it's all of this, altogether, that's going to leave him with that constant line of thrumming energy no matter how he feels, heart beat up and running even when he's at rest.
his eyes finally drift back to her, her dessert. byeonghun thinks he doesn't really care if they hear how much he disapproves of all of this-- the cameras, all of this fuss just to prove something that isn't even real, but he's had enough of the rumors and the lingering glances. returns a smile, dimple inset in his cheek, balancing the spoon back and forth between his fingers when she tells him that it's good.
"it makes it worth stealing, then." he's pretty sure they were probably meant for them, anyways, but he enjoys the sentiment that he made off with it, anyways. "not sure even fifty of them could make up for the dinner, but at least it's over." it's the least he can do to try and paint over that ache, even if he feels it lingering within him, too, the memories of the dinner like a haunting reminder of when they were all together the last time, all in one place.
a soft chuckle, rumbling through his chest. the dessert's half finished but he really has nothing else to show for it. "maybe the marathon is for us. they knew we'd be up." byeonghun jokes, but even the humor on it doesn't reach his eyes, but the curve of his sympathetic smile, does.
"yeah, it's not really new." an air of finality, of truth. "but it's nice to see you, too. i was hoping to catch up to you to see how you've been doing, of late. i've been looking around, they really have cameras set up all over the fucking place. if either of us start walking, they'll definitely see it." his mouth's set into a firm line, talking in a lower murmur, hoping his voice doesn't get picked up.
"are you worried, at all? i was going to ask what floor you were staying on, at least, so i'd know it was you if you were coming from there." ever since the rumors started up, he knew what it was like to be on the other side of speculation, of scrutiny. while he didn't care much about what people said to him, about him-- he'd heard it his whole life, what was one more? but for hyejin-- she didn't deserve to get caught up in all of these theories and bullshit about what was going on.
with his legs bent at the knees, he leans over on them with his elbows, still in his suit, but his gelled hair is falling down into his eyes, a messy job not meant to last. still, he's talking like he's dealing secrets, a serious, concerned edge to his voice.
"you should at least see where they are on the way to your room. then we know what angles to avoid, if i've gotta walk you back, or wake you up, or something."
FROM @4ftersunset ,
"i already tried to open your door but it was locked on that side, which makes sense, i guess. i thought if i just waited, then someone would come through on the other side eventually, and i'm glad i was right. do you have something i can borrow to get it open with, please?" he looks expectantly at byeonghun. in the recesses of his memory, there's a flash of silver. "maybe one of your knives?"
"i don't really think you would know what i would even look like if i was, taejun." the water turns on with a rush of it spilling against the tub, and he pulls back to look at him, half avoiding the mirror, staring past him, into a corner. exhaling, he leans back against a part of the wall and looks at him, expression devoid of any other emotion, just watching. waiting.
"so you think the hotel's full of bodies, or something?" byeonghun mumbles, and thinks about lingering lines of presence, thinks there's more than bodies hid between drywall, more like reflections, secrets, whispering at night. "i'm a little bit more concerned about your audience then your permission. you're still here." he points out, staring at him staring at the wall, both of them stuck here, like a moment in time, drifting long and lonely between them, a stretch between, just like the walls and the drywall and the gaps for mice and bodies and secrets.
byeonghun's eyes flicker to the door. despite himself, he strides right past him, trying the door, twisting the knob. it doesn't give. fact proven, he turns to him, hearing his explanation blankly. "you should be glad i came through the door when i did. what if you were here all night, in the dark? would the bodies have started whispering to you?" there's no belief in his voice, or his eyes, shaking his head.
he mentions his knife, which he has, sitting heavy with its metal gleam in his pocket, folded in on itself. his hand twitches. "i can't fuck up the hinges trying to get it open, can you imagine what they'd say? after all of the shit they're already saying about me?"
sleepwalker smashing door locks with knives and brute force. uncontrollable stunt actor acting just as out of place as he did on the movie set-- see footage of him sleepwalking down this hallway--!
byeonghun returns back to the other side, opening his door, gesturing with a tilt of his head. "come on. you can come through this way and get down to the front desk to get another key for your door, and you can unlock it properly on the other side."
he drags a hand over his face, rubbing at his temples, cold chill at the edges of his fingers. "and then you can leave me the fuck alone, okay? don't lock yourself out like you did earlier and we won't have any more problems."
FROM @4ftersunset ,
"you scared it away," he amends. he turns back from the mirror and smiles genially at him. "but if out of every other key, you picked the one that led you here, then that's okay. it must've happened for a reason. did i scare you, byeonghun?"
"in the dark?" he murmurs, eyes sliding past him to the mirror. he doesn't really ever indulge in looking in his reflection for long, if only because--- the light flickers. just a moment, byeonghun staring at taejun's reflection in the mirror, himself, at an angle.
taejun looks from his reflection back to byeonghun, and as soon as something looks like it shifts, curl of a smile, eye shine, flicker of red--- he looks away. at taejun, not his reflection, not the mirror, not the echoes of scratching, or the eyes, or the figure, or himself, or. his eyes drift, shuffling on his feet, clearing his throat.
"the last thing that could scare me would be you, taejun." he crosses his arms, steadfastly holding his ground at the door, like somehow he could bar taejun from coming any further, encroaching on any more of his space, presence or words or meaning.
"the only reasoning is that the universe wants to fuck with me, actually. why did it have to be you out of everyone---" he sighs, standing straighter. "are you done in here? i was going to shower. there's nothing in the fucking mirror, there wasn't in the first place. you probably just heard a mouse or something in the walls. it'll find its way out."
he uncrosses his arms, stands up, no longer leaning against the doorframe. "we can just fucking--- get through this. we chose these rooms and it'll just be what it is. it doesn't mean anything. it just happened that way."
he refuses to believe taejun on the other side of his room, sharing this bathroom, is something like fate.
"i'd prefer not to have an audience while i shower." he grumbles, hand pulling back the curtain, fingers reaching to turn on the spray, looking away from him, from the mirror, from the reflection.
FOR @5eraphism ,
the dinner runs long enough that byeonghun starts seeing more than just shadows in the corners of the room, running long in the evening. when he lets his gaze linger too long, what looks like eyes, seeing, unseeing, blinking, rubbing his own as if it'll help blur them out from view. it's fancy and drags on and on more than he's used to, and so as soon as he's excused from the rest when it's finished, he's outside and around the corner and pulling a smoke from the pack stuck in his pocket.
the wind's kicking up, blowing strands of his hair into his vision, pulling away the smoke he exhales as he leans back against rough brick and watches the grass sway with the exhalation of the ocean getting kicked up by the breeze, and he breathes it in, briny sea air, smoke, his own leftover cologne.
crushes the cigarette beneath his dress shoe, and goes off in a hunt for the kitchen. he's got a hand in his pocket and exhaustion creeping down the line of his back, eyes shifting around and finding a fridge, which he opens and finds two servings of a dessert in little glasses. two spoons, holding them both as he kicks it shut with a heel and wanders back in towards the leftover crowd from dinner.
when he spots who he's looking for, he approaches from the side, ducking in front of her with a small smile. "hey there, stranger. should probably make a break for the amphitheater, i stole these from the kitchen." the grin half quirking up his mouth has a hint of the mischievous glint that shines in his eyes. "c'mon."
he leads hyejin where he's talking about, eyes dragging on the ballroom bar and knowing he'll visit later when he gets the chance. there's a movie already rolling on the screen when he shoulders the door open for her, voices echoing as the film runs. "did you like dinner?" byeonghun mumbles, still looking a little amused. there's a couple spots open, but he points towards one of the piles of pillows still free with a dessert filled hand.
"what about that one?" murmurs a curse under his breath, eyes glazing over the room. "it's like they want us to fall asleep out here." it looks like someone already has, or at least is on the way to, dozing off with her face pillowed by the palm of her hand as the movie drones on. once the door shuts behind him, he balances two desserts in one palm as his hand loosens his tie, shoes clacking against the floor as he crosses towards where he'd pointed.
"dinner felt like it just wouldn't fucking end, though, so i'm hoping these were actually worth stealing, after getting through all of that." it's on an exhale, eyes flickering around for cameras like a second rate habit he's just happened to pick up, conscious now of them, what they see, what they hear, where they watch.
FOR @4ftersunset ,
she follows him all of the way to jinhae-gu. she's followed him ever since that late, golden summer day, but she'd kept her distance until he placed that mask over his eyes and proved to her he could look just like her, too.
just looking after him, just like he used to look after minhyuk, floors creaking underneath blue moonlight slanted in through the curtains, the silver crescent reflected in the clean silver of the knife. he'd sent him a text, before getting on the plane. make sure you're eating your meals well. ill let you know when i land.
looking lonely at the end of the hallway, he tries to look away from her weeping as he opens the door to his room, shoulders inside, takes in the furnishings, fingers brushing over the freshly made bed, the table, going to the window to draw back the curtains, peer out.
he still doesn't know if this is a good idea.
she judges him from half a room away, fingertips petting against the walls, byeonghun pulling his jacket tighter. he pulls the curtains shut.
maybe a shower and straight to bed. he'll leave the light on for all of the eyes, and he'll text his brother to remember to lock the front door, and he'll go to bed and deal with the rest of the bullshit tomorrow. it had been enough to see so many familiar, hazy faces, memories slanting in like faded film reels of his time on that set, long hours behind the camera, spinning knives, discordant music, late at night, those long, blue nights where memory faded and spilled until he opened his eyes, only to realize he's been doing it again.
walking, guided, seeing for her, who can't see at all.
he finds the door for the bathroom and gets it open after tossing his jacket onto the bed, black tank top and jeans and shuffling in with his socks, exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders, dark eyes, hand scrubbing down his face. clicks the light on and---
"you have got to be fucking kidding me, taejun."
best case scenario would've been the bathroom empty and clear just like it's supposed to be, and he could take a shower and lay down and let something mind numbing drone on the tv with the locks drawn on the door, the eyes watching like they always do.
worst case scenario has to be this. he thought he'd left this behind when filming ended, when all memory served him was that when the eyes got too close, when she got too close, cold and weeping and clawing at her broken gaze, byeonghun's heart beating too fast too stupid too close too much, somehow, for some mind-splitting reason, he thought of taejun.
he thought about how he, the memory splintering here, headache on the horizon and pressing tight at his temples, he can't remember, he can't, but it's. taejun, that could fix it, somehow. doesn't know how, doesn't know when he even remembers that happening, but knows that he can't run into him now, can't go looking for him, can't go needing anyone, especially ahn fucking taejun, irritation frazzling the edges of his nerves, jaw set.
he presses his shoulder against the doorframe, drained.
"and you've been in here how long? just what--- fucking waiting, or some shit?"
@/billyloomisluver (crimson seal) hey so that jeon byeonghun is definitely a serial killer right.. like i'm not the only one who sees those eyes.. did u see those shots of him showing up at set at 4am?? what a fucking creep
heyy! i'm leon (he/him, 21+) ready to haunt you all not only with jeon byeonghun but with cho minji, too! this intro will have information on byeonghun, but feel free to look through his profile for more! definitely lots of inspo from yellowjackets, midnight mass's angels, hamlet's something's rotten here, and by a sleep to say we end the heartache, there's something in the water-isms bc why did he come back from that lake one day and never act the same way ever again..
i'd love to chat either here or d!scord, just let me know. you can message me at this blog for plotting with either of them, or both! also pls let me know if you want to just throw our muses into a situation... we can definitely do that, too! happy opening day, i'm looking forward to throwing lots of horrors at our muses tgt <3
- Hamlet (1.1.10), Francisco to Barnardo
haiku #13, tathev simonyan
— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena
fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am tired of making a religion out of my suffering’.
fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘the exhaustion in existing’.
[text id: the monster under your bed does not lurk, / it hides / from what you have become / a familiar specimen]
PLOTS . . .