bloody knuckles, sore throat

oc roleplay

[skywhi-blog]

in other news, i’ve been sick as hell these days but i’ll try to finally whip out some replies soon. sorry for the wait everyone

[sensorv-blog]

All we have to believe is our senses:  the tools we use to perceive the world,  our sight,  our touch,  our memory. If they lie to us, then nothing can be trusted.

it’s a story of three different people: the one who feels too much, the one who can’t feel anything at  all  and the  one  who’s   feeling    everything    at    once.

multimuse  oc  roleplay strictly  literate  +  nsfw muses    –    guidelines

[skywhi-blog]

’ what? i’m just changing. ’

nsfw sentence startersaccepting

“i know. why do you think i’m here?” he asked, one of his eyebrows playfully quirked up, going strangely hand in hand with the half-amused and half-intense expression of his face. at first it was just his head peeking inside the small change room (but still bigger than most, because apparently this store was too posh for tiny ones), but soon his entire body followed, squeezing between the door and frame, and closing behind him quietly.

he honestly had no clue how he had found himself in this position: shopping for clothes with a really pretty and really funny girl whom he had hooked up and had a breakfast with, who also happened to be an idol and who apparently had low enough standards to hang around with someone like hojun. he wasn’t really anything special -- his bleached hair was dry, his wallet definitely couldn’t handle the kind of stores she was used to and he was an absolute mess at anything that had to do with relationships (be it friend-ships, or romantic-ships, or really anything that went beyond a simple fuck or an even simpler fight) -- but for some reason she seemed to dig his company and he wasn’t one to say no to an attractive woman’s request for a day’s worth of entertainment.

so he followed her around, carried her bags like a champ, bought her a refreshing milk tea drink between one store and another, and gave honest opinions on every piece she tried on -- even if his honest opinions were mostly focusing on how the pieces hugged the curves of her frame, the estimate time of taking them off (because it was obviously an important feature of all clothes) and generally a load of dirty (or mildly suggestive in best case scenarios) remarks.

but then, he got kinda bored. and the dress she tried on was kinda really hot. so he slipped in that goddamn changing room, where mirrors were placed on all the walls and the bright lightning left no place for imagintion, and he looked at her like he could eat her. figuratively. literally.

“thought you may need some help with this one.” he said, stepping in closer and reaching up to swipe her hair to the side, letting his knuckles brush over the bare back of her neck, just above the zipper of the nice, tight dress. his voice is quiet, just barely audible over the music, as he’s still vaguely aware and caring about them being in a public place. “then again, i kinda don’t want to help you get out of it. looks too nice.”

[skywhi-blog]

dxlxgence:

« K I B U M. » ✧ ┆   Was he weird? It was a strange feeling Kibum was getting when he was around Hojun for sure. One part of him wanted to believe that the other man saw him as a weird freak while the other part of his self wanted to believe that the other was just hiding his warm and nice self behind a facade like so many other people. “Is it?” Kibum asked back with a calm, almost too calm voice while he fumbled on the hem of his shirt with both hands. “I can’t speak for him and in your case you did the right thing, ending up in prison is not the best thing but…” The dancer stopped talking as he sorted out his thoughts to find the right words. “if this boy would have been me, I would rather die than living in fear. Isn’t this what happens after an attack like this? That you have a trauma and live with fear?

The tension fell with each word Kibum was saying rather than the fact that Hojun was letting go of him and just massaged his shoulder with one hand.  Close contact with someone else has never bothered him this much, Kibum was just not used to it when it wasn’t about dancing.

A soft frown appeared on his face as soon as he heard Hojun’s words about seeing someone dying every day. “You too?” Kibum gave the other man an almost sad smile even though he didn’t know exactly what Hojun was talking about, he just knew from his own experiences that when he looked into the mirror and saw his old self dying or when something inside of him died with another broken dream. “It’s horrible, isn’t it? And there is nothing you can do to stop it.” Or maybe there was but there was nothing Kibum knew about.

But of course, Hojun knew about him. The whole school knew about him in not such a good way. There was a difference between being popular because everyone liked you or with being popular because everyone was making fun of you. Kibum wasn’t crying about this anymore, he has accepted his fate just as it was and he was certain that his school time has changed him to become the person he was now. “It was a contest more or less, but yes, I know you laughed. I’ve heard you. But just for the side note, the tights I’m wearing mostly don’t sparkle in any way.” With one hand, Kibum rubbed over his upper arm. “But no, this wasn’t a laughter of joy.  There is a difference between laughing because you are happy or because you are making fun of someone. Making fun of someone doesn’t make you happy. It just shows how insecure you really are with yourself.”

hojun’s eyebrows furrow at the mention of a possible trauma, entire face scrunching in emotions that are far from positive. "it’s not like i fucking assaulted him in a back alley when he was on his way home from a party. it was a school fight. shit happens at school. it’s a nightmare period for everyone, whether you’re the kid who finds salvation in aggression, the one who’s being bullied or the one who loses the best years of their life on stressing over grades that don’t matter in the end. i’m sure he got over it.” he says, voice laced with irritation, because fuck, he doesn’t want to talk about it. think about it. live through it again. it reminds him of the event’s aftermath, all the years back then, when his parents, and the kid’s parents, and the school principal, and then the thraphist, how they all told him what a terrible thing he had done, how he had ruined the boy’s life, how he should try to put himself in the kid’s position and think how unfair he had been. well, fuck this; life is unfair, so get over it, he thought back then and he still kind of thinks it right now.

“you can always do something about it,” the blonde counters almost instantly, eyeing the odd smile that kibum throws his way in that moment. funny how death seems to be the only thing that pulls this kind of expression, the closest one to happiness, on the other’s face. “i know i can, i just choose not to, even though i consider it every day. i may not look like it, but i’m an optimist, y’know? i always feel like the next day something may happen, something-- something. even though it usually doesn’t.” it’s probably morbid, how light his voice sounds in this moment, how conversational his monologue seems to be, considering he’s speaking of death and suicide and finding reasons to live. it’d be weird to anyone, how it’s such a normal subject to hojun -- to anyone but someone who actually understands it.

when kibum elaborates on the intricacies of hojun’s own laughter, hojun does the only thing possible -- he laughs. it’s short but loud, loud enough for some heads to turn their way, and somewhere at the back of his head, he wonders what kind of laugh this is and how it’s going to get judged by kibum -- the real laugh, the fake laugh or the insecure laugh? -- but he doesn’t ask the question. “nice analysis, sounds like something a therapist would conclude. looks like you used to pay a lot of attention to me, after all,” his words are a bit playful, slightly teasing, maybe even jabbing; when hojun looks at kibum then, his eyes are more alive than they’ve been in a long long time. “you said your tights ‘mostly don’t sparkle’. so-- some of them do sparkle, right? i wanna see you in them before i beat you to death.”

[skywhi-blog]

// okay, so i think the theme issue is fixed now, looks like it was infinite scroll messing everything up. thanks for the help, anon, @ketaminhcl and @pullstrings! appreciate it a lot. in other news, i know i owe a ton of replies, some of them kinda old already. they’re all drafted and i plan to have them all out over the next 2-3 days, so please be patient with me. 🙏 life just kinda became super hectic recently.

[skywhi-blog]

your theme fucked up

// oh shit, how come?! it looks normal to me. can you tell me what exactly is wrong? hey dashboard, can anyone else tell me if anything is out of ordinary on your end too? i can’t fix something i don’t see. D: i know there’s some issues with posts overlapping sometimes, but they usually sort themselves out if you give them a few moments. (i have no idea why this is happening, i’m no html genius, sorry)

[vaememes]

nsfw sentence starters.

’ i’m so hard for you baby. ’ ’ do you want me? how do you want me? ’ ’ i don’t think you’re ready for this. ’ ’ i don’t think you could handle this. ’ ’ i’m so horny for you right now. ’ ’ if you keep dressing like that, i won’t be able to contain myself. ’ ’ i want to mark you as mine tonight. ’ ’ come over here and give me a kiss. ’ ’ do you feel me inside of you right now? ’ ’ i want to feel you inside of me right now. ’ ’ i want to hear you moan and scream my name. ’ ’ do you feel that? ’ ’ you ready for round two yet? ’ ’ let’s go again. ’ ’ i just want to make you moan. ’ ’ i’m going to give you a kiss now. ’ ’ can we cuddle afterwards? ’ ’ i’m still hurting from last night. ’ ’ come show me a good time then. ’ ’ i’m more than ready for this, trust me. ’ ’ think you can handle it? ’ ’ strip for me. ’ ’ want me to strip for you? ’ ’ i’m just stripping for you slowly. ’ ’ i’m just slowly going to take off my clothes now. ’ ’ what? i’m just changing. ’ ’ you can look but you can’t touch. ’ ’ want to come feel me up? ’ ’ i can do amazing things with these hands. ’ ’ this mouth here can work wonders. ’ ’ talk dirty to me while you fuck me. ’ ’ aw, is that all you got? ’ ’ harder, baby. ’ ’ hmmm, yeah, harder baby. ’ ’ oh yes! right there! that’s the spot! ’ ’ don’t slow down, keep going. ’ ’ i love the way you move your hips. ’ ’ i love the way you taste. ’ ’ you taste so good. ’ ’ i want to taste you. ’ ’ let’s go naked and talk about it. ’ ’ i think you look wonderful naked. ’ ’ want me to help you take your clothes off? ’ ’ i will rip those clothes right off of you. ’ ’ let me see what your working with. ’ ’ i’m so wet right now. ’ ’ you make me so wet. ’ ’ come feel how wet i am right now. ’ ’ you should feel how soaking wet i am. ’ ’ only you make me that wet. ’ ’ i’m so hard right now. ’ ’ just your voice makes me get a hard on. ’ ’ you should feel how hard i get for you. ’ ’ i’m so hard it hurts. ’ ’ it takes a lot to make me horny. ’ ’ it doesn’t take much with you to make me horny. ’

[skywhi-blog]

eterneli:

@skywhi (x)

there’s a principle of laughter bubbling within his chest as attentive orbs observe the latter’s demeanor thoroughly, from the very first punch thrown at him to the second spit meets the cement below his feet. kids these days sure are amusing. “now now, that’s not very nice.” crimson lips display nothing but a smug, mocking smile as his words spill like fresh honey in a beehive. sure it would’ve been entertaining to kick or punch the other to the point where red velvet would fit prettily between the cracks of the pavement, but his strength would’ve probably shattered some part of the human shell so instead baekhyun opted for the dodging nature in a fight, which has earned him a very pleasant sight presented before his throne of triumph.

“who’s the one who can’t land a punch here?” there he is again, at a vivid push and pull until it breaks routine, dragging souls over the edge and merely watching as they descend past the cliff. it’s a sadistic characteristic, but can you blame a dead man? “perhaps you should take all that teenage anger and channel it to do something with your life.” perhaps he pushes further because heartbeats pick up under chemical stimulation as the brain does its magic, and perhaps he has grown addicted to erratic thumps birthed of chaos and panic.

distance is diminished within seconds as he is now found standing inches apart from the other male, a palm rising and unceremoniously grasping the latter’s chin under inhuman strength so their gazes may collide. “all i see is a wounded, pathetic dog biting at whatever he can to survive. as if this eager violence would get you anywhere. it’s sad, really.” he’s stern, dead in the tongue, sneak-like, deranged man. but he doesn’t care. (this is too amusing.)

“the fuck do you think i’m trying to do here? getting shitfaced is something.” he hisses back at the man, voice rough and seething with anger. what he’s angry at stays a mystery even to himself -- is he more angry at his own self, at the countless things that have gone wrong that day or at the stranger who just won’t let him take it all out on him? no matter the reason, it’s right there all the same, pushing him forward, not letting him give up even as his trashing around proves to be fruitless.

when a hand grabs onto his face, it’s strong and maybe not painful but definitely uncomfortable, and against all the odds hojun loves the feeling. it’s nowhere near the level of pain he’s used to, the kind of thing that usually soothes his anger for a few -- minutes, hours, days? -- but at this point he’ll take anything, any incentive to focus all the negativity on.

“you call it sad, but it has to be interesting enough if you’re tagging around to watch it even though you could’ve easily freed yourself from it.” hojun points out in his usual, smartass way; he’s often blinded by anger, by the constant moodswing of emotions that render him stupid, but he never quite ceases to be clever, all cunning and perceptive. while he doesn’t move his head out of the grasp, he does lift up his right arm, taking a swing with it almost like he’s about to make another attempt at throwing a punch. but when his fist collides with the side of the stern male’s face, it’s more of a touch than a strike, the wounded knuckles smearing bloody marks onto his cheek and they press into it. “it’s too fucking easy that way. even pathetic dogs like to be challenged.” he says, his hooded gaze, looking almost bored in that moment, shifting between his own fist and the other’s eyes.

[yeo1]

[zarathustra-would-be-proud]

[skywhi-blog]

dxlxgence:

« K I B U M. » ✧ ┆   Why was Kibum not surprised to hear something like this? For some reason, he has not expected something else to come from Hojun’s mouth which was making things even sadder, to begin with. Maybe they were really exactly the opposite of each other? Because Kibum was thinking nothing but lowly and badly of himself. He felt that he wasn’t worth anything and that he was nothing but a burden to other people which was one of the main reason why he tried to help everyone and to be nice to everyone because this was the only thing he could do to make up for his useless existence.

Kibum would lie if he would say that the tight grip wasn’t bothering him because it did. It wasn’t the slight pain the grip caused that bothered him but the overall closeness to someone who wasn’t even eager to be so close to him. One wrong word and maybe then a bone would be broken? Was this how the thing will end? Kibum crossed his own arms over his chest as he tried to come off as cool as possible (every idiot could say that he was not relaxed). “There is probably still a huge difference between torturing a weaker human and killing them. I don’t hate you for killing someone but for torturing the weaker. Well, I couldn’t even call it hate.” Because Kibum hardly hated someone, not even his cruel mother. “Have you seen someone dying?”

Slowly, Kibum turned his head to focus the man next to him with a small but almost sad smile on his lips. Now that Hojun was saying this, he was right that there have been so many other things to notice. “I’m sorry then. But you have never been charming with me. I doubt you have ever really recognized me? Or maybe you have, who knows. I think most students have heard of the ugly gay kid that does ballet.” The students haven’t even known about Kibum’s sexuality, they just called him a girl or ugly names for a gay person because of his passion for dancing. Up until now, Kibum has never really thought about his own sexuality if he was honest. “But there was this one thing I noticed. Your laugh. I always felt bad because it never sounded honest. I was wondering how your honest laughter would sound like.”

there’s a little bit of silence between them, one where kibum seems to be lost in his thoughts and hojun doesn’t really have anything to say. what is he supposed to talk about with someone who detests him, and for a good reason to? hojun is generally good at talking, at babbling about everything and nothing at the same time, but the fact that the person underneath his arm is someone who has suffered because of him, who saw him at his worst, who for some reason apparently sees through many of hojun’s acts (he hates to admit it, is irritated by it, but it’s true nonetheless), makes it a little bit more difficult than usual.

“so you’d be more okay with it if i actually killed that boy in school? that’s fucked up,” he says, but he doesn’t sound surprised, or outraged, or even questioning; he’s just--curious. observant. nearly interested. he used to think about it at all, about that day, about what would happen and where he would end up if he hit the boy a few more times. if he grabbed the spent body, lying on the concrete ground behind one of the school’s building, hojun’s hands cluthing the lanky shoulders, pulling them up and then slamming back down. if the too tired muscles of the boy’s neck were too abused to do anything to stop the impact, leading to his skull crashing against the cold, hard asphalt, blood spilling all over the dark grey background. would hojun be in the prison now? in the mental ward? would he get even stronger medication, one that changed who he is irreversibly?

hojun’s grip of kibum’s shoulders loosens up finally, hand unconsciously giving the male’s opposite upper arm a small massage. “i see someone dying every day,” he answers eventually, the words ambiguous and leaving kibum guessing their meaning without any follow up. the blonde isn’t drunk nor delirious enough to elaborate on how every morning, regardless of his current mental state, he feels like another tiny part of him dies, how he can physically see it in the mirror when he washes his face.

“i knew about you. remembered you. the kids i hung around with made fun of you a lot, talked about ways to humiliate you like it’s a contest of who does it better,” he admits in the most casual manner, like it’s not something shameful, like it doesn’t matter. and to hojun, right now, it doesn’t -- although in a different way than it didn’t matter to him back then. “what makes you think the laughter you heard wasn’t honest? when the guys made fun of you, i laughed too. do you think it was insincere? think the ‘ugly gay kid dancing in sparkly tights’ wasn’t funny to me?” he asks, words sharp, bitter, opaque. if he wanted to be honest with himself, he’d admit he tries really fucking hard for his voice to not betray his true feelings in this moment. because he really doesn’t know if, through that span of time from high school to now, he ever laughed of joy and not spite, bitterness or plain anger.

[skywhi-blog]

i62cm:

♬♩♪♩skywhi

“did i? well i must have drank a lot last night, because I barely remember anything.” wheein chuckled awkwardly, because she remembers every single thing that happened last night. But she didn’t want to be reminded of the weird things she had done. Such as her repeatedly winking at him, even the thought of it makes her cringe. She lightly hits her forehead and sighs in embarrassment.

as the two were ready to disburse, she was nervously waiting for him to cross the aisle of doors. one step, two step, and then he turned around which made her even more nervous. she looked at him with a blank face not expecting what was about to come next, he just asked her out. it was an abnormal way to ask out a girl, she thought, but before she could even reply back, he left.

wheein closed the door and stood there for a minute debating whether she should be happy he wants to spend more time with her or not.  ~and it replayed in her head again, the way he asked her wasn’t the most romantic, which was fine with wheein because she isn’t the type to like romantic things, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling in joy.

“Oh-!!” she remembered that he would be waiting for outside, so she quickly ran to her closet. ‘what should i wear? i can’t take too long he is waiting, so..’ she took out her favorite mom jeans and a loose hoodie. ‘i don’t want to look all dolled up.’ she didn’t want to make him overwhelmed by her outfit and she didn’t want it to look like she tried very hard. she headed out the door, putting on her favorite converse and saw him at the corner waiting. “hey!” she exclaimed.

when hojun finally makes it outside safely, the first inhale of the fresh morning air is the best. it sobers him up momentarily, making the grogginess of waking up way too early for his liking disappear, more or less -- he definitely isn’t your regular morning person, especially not after a long night of drinking and having fun. in any other situation, he’d lounge around the bed for a few more hours, with small breaks to get something to eat and drink, aimlessly browsing the web through his phone and watching some nonsense on the tv; but today’s predicament that he found himself in was rather particular, so just some fresh air and a promise of good breakfast in -- maybe -- nice company would have to do.

it’s probably a bit stupid, to first think about all that godly air hitting his lungs, only for half a moment later to pluck out a cigarette out of a slightly crumpled pack that had its temporary spot in the pocket of his denim jacket, but that’s just hojun -- a walking contradiction that swung back and forth between good and bad, yes and no, fuck and fuck (the good fucks and the bad fucks), twenty-four/seven, 365 days a year.

he’s somewhere by the end of his cig, crouched on the sidewalk just a few steps away from the door went through himself around ten minutes ago, when he thinks that maybe there’s nothing to wait for, after all. he wouldn’t be mad -- not really. it was just a one-night-stand, he knew it right from the first glance they had shared last night, and even though he suggested that breakfast just now, it’s not like he expected anything. he just, kinda... wings it. thinking that maybe if there’s something else to have here, in addition to that one night, (for example -- another night), then he’d rather try and reach out for it than spend the next few days wondering.

and just as he’s about to give up, the doors are flinging open, a lithe silhouette appearing in the warm, autumn sunlight. when he looks up from his crouching position all the way down, he has to squint his eyes to be able to focus his gaze on her.

“i started thinking your friend caught up on your plans after all,” he says with a brief, crooked smile, taking the last drag of the cig and then pressing it into the sidewalk, rubbing the end against it in order to put it out properly. “considered running back in to save you from her potential murderous intents,” getting up, he flicks the used filter in the nearby trashcan, smoothing his palms against the material on his outer thighs as if to wipe them of the nicotine smoke smell, even though he’s so very aware he has soaked through and through with it already after this many years of smoking. “so, breakfast? i know a good place not far from here, pretty low-key too. no diet foods though, so whatever ridiculous rigoristic idol eating habits you may have, you’re about to suspend it for the day. you look bangin’ anyway, so it’s a whatever.”

[sonvoeux]

[ ! ] Please reblog this if you are an active, literate krp blog that is open to plotting and looking for roleplay partners, oc, au or gen.

[skywhi-blog]

dxlxgence:

« K I B U M. » ✧ ┆   This laughter that was coming from Hojun’s mouth was mocking to his ears and was making Kibum uncomfortable to some point even though the young man wasn’t saying a word about it. He wasn’t keeping calm because he was scared but because he was tired of any kind of confrontation right now. There was something this man kept hidden from everyone, something that was probably haunting him just as much as Kibum was haunted by the voices inside of his head. But there was no way he could talk about it yet or anytime. Would this guy even believe him? No, impossible, no one believed Kibum when he talked about these voices. And of course, Hojun wasn’t different and trying to talk Kibum and his misery down. One thing hasn’t changed from their schooldays. Hojun still appeared to be the same arrogant type of person who was judging first because even getting to know the person.

“If you say so. You must know who is special and who is not.”  Now it was Kibum who was talking in a more or less ironic way because he disliked the way Hojun was speaking to him. He took a sharp breath by the sudden jolt coming from his clothes while getting pulled closer again. No one around them was stepping in but this was the human nature after all. They wouldn’t even step in when Kibum would be on the ground, bleeding to death.

The dancer narrowed his eyes at the other while listening to his words. “Sounds like a deal, even though I have high doubts that you will be able to succeed, but good, I’m in.” Was there even any other chance for him other than to agree with it? It was for the better when Kibum wouldn’t think about this any further for now. “What else should I have been thinking of you back then?”

“obviously. i’m the special one and everyone else is just a waste of space,” he says with way too much cheerfulness to sound honest, the kind of happiness that is impossible to be true, that people use to cover up bitterness and acerbity and skepticism. when they walk down the street, hojun still keeps that one arm wrapped around kibum’s shoulders, a little too tightly than probably necessary, feeling the bones and flesh in his palm where it rests on his upper arm; it’s a bit like he’s holding him hostage, like he believes kibum will try and run any second now. briefly, curiously, hojun wonders if this lithe body and long legs were fast, faster than his own, if he’d be able to catch him in a haste chase.

“why doubt me?” the blonde asks, turning head to his unlikely company and looking--no, staring, at him. “i thought you saw what i did all these years ago. isn’t that why you hate me? i was just a kid back then, so if i could massacre some boy in high school with just my hands, don’t you think i’ll be able to off you now?” he sounds cheery, at ease, like it doesn’t bother him at all; but it does, it always does, haunts him at night sometimes and doesn’t let him sleep. but then other times, something switches in his brain, something that no medication drugs have ever been able to control, and his entire mindset makes a one-eighty turn, shifting back into that angry, careless, little monster that loves to destroy and laugh while watching the world burn and crumble.

and while one moment he says things that are frightening, ful of violence and underlying threats, the next he hums in an almost sing-song tone, all nice and playful; the ever so present moodswing. “dunno. you could’ve focused on how good looking i am, maybe. or charming. or my impeccable ways of breaking the school’s uniform rules. plenty of things. just because you chose the worst of me is on you, not me.”

[skywhi-blog]

orphanchen:

“I think our lungs would disagree on that statement quite vehemently.” Cam interjects with an almost playful raise of a brow, the corner of his lips upturning. He smokes the cigarette right down to the filter, not wasting anymore of the remaining to burn out his lungs. The tips of his fingers are so calloused and rough from all the years of practice, he’s sure if his chest were to be cut open it would be as dark as ash inside. He stubs out the last of the flickering embers, quick to grab another from the pack to just place between his fingers for now. His gaze is already drifting towards the glass paraphernalia he had set up on the mantle, itching to bring it back down. 

“Wha–” He’s so distracted, always so lost in his own mind. “No, I can’t do that. I’m only 25, unless my parents got my birth year wrong. It is only an estimation.” It’s weird to say he doesn’t have a birthday, per se. Just ages with each passing year that goes by, the new year begins and he just moves along with it. There’s no party, no celebration. He never cared for that - never understood the point despite his parents trying. “I can only do that much, thank God…” Anything else would be more of a curse. 

Another weapon. Another piece of blackmail to hold over his head. 

He tries to force a smile, his cheek twitching in the process. “It’s okay, I’m rather used to it by now.” In the beginning it was just so he could go to regular school, to belong to a society that wanted to reject him. And then it became more. His gaze goes to the corner ceiling, as if expecting a camera to be there despite knowing there wasn’t any. They had removed them after the second week he had moved in, the feline having got a device that blocked all their signals and refusing the constant monitoring. “Ah no, Big Brother doesn’t like that.” Cam lights his second cigarette, inhaling once - twice. “If I do most of what they ask, I can live mostly in peace. I guess.” 

His phone pings, his ears twitch at the alert. “The pizza must be on route.” 

“there’s a reason why lungs can’t speak,” hojun replies nearly instantly, with a quirk of his mouth, finding it really easy to just say whatever and whenever to the other; in this moment, that saying where it’s supposedly much easier to talk to strangers than friends, makes all the sense in the world to the blonde. maybe it’s because no matter what, a stranger like cam won’t try to ask and ponder about hojun’s personal life and things he never wants to talk about. or maybe it’s the exact opposite -- maybe because even if hojun decided to pour his heart and mind out right here and now, a vomit of words and feelings, it’d still mean nothing to his company, nothing more than a bunch of sentences entering one ear and flying right out through the other one.

when he finished his cig, he drops it through the small hole of his beer’s can, the remnants of the liquid successfully putting it out. the hiss and pop of another can being opened cuts through the air soon, along with a loud -- a little too loud, perhaps -- curse. “bullshit,” he spits when his host decides to do this weird, unnecessary thing of giving hojun assurance just for the sake of his mental well-being; hojun doesn’t need it, doesn’t care for it and there’s no hesitation in him to call the other on his crappy lies. “i don’t have ears or tails that i need to hide, but i have enough common sense -- i know i don’t look like it, it’s okay -- to know that cutting off a limb isn’t something ‘you get used to’.”

he takes a deep, long swig of the fresh beer and then lets out a satisfied sigh, feeling nicely relaxed thanks to the alcohol. “sorry to say, but your life sounds like a mess. i know i only got a few bits of the story, but based on what you told me, it seems like you’re a prisoner who is forced to torture oneself while the psychopaths watch you and enjoy the show. i got some major creep vibes here-- kinda like some of those psychological horrors, y’know. screw the pizza, should i rescue you?” he asks, eyeing the male over the rim of his beer as he takes another sip; the question is only half-serious, of course, like basically anything that leaves hojun’s mouth, but its meaning is still there, because he has enough brains to know something really weird has been going on there. and he’s not quite sure if he’d rather want in or out of it.

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

The Stranger (1967)

[skywhi-blog]

artificvr:

his eyebrows raise a tad bit at the abrupt outburst coming from the latter, mouth twitching and jaewon is not sure if it’s caused by amusement or by annoyance. either way, his hand comes up to rub at his nape, head tilted to the side as he ponders for a second or two before his eyes finally settle on the figure standing in front of him. he shrugs, because really, he doesn’t want to think too much into anything as the rather disturbing but almost intriguing conversation keeps going on. “all i was saying is that people can be quite… um, creative when it comes to substitute sexual toys with regular household items.”

his nose crinkles as that certain divisive activity is mentioned once again, not sure whether it’s a subtle offer or whatnot the other keeps blabbering about. “you think i don’t know how to eat ass?” his arms fold over his chest as he rests his back against his chair that emits a weak creak in response. “i doubt anyone would have trouble with it since the name is very straightforward and on point, don’t you think so?”

a quiet laughter rumbles in his chest beneath the confines of his overall once the latter’s own amusement hits his ears, followed by a little sigh and a shake of his head. “contrary to popular belief, like is not the right word i would use. but to me it seems like you’re the one who’s into kinks as we can’t seem to move on from this topic, hm?” his smile turns into a smirk as he eyes the younger.

“are you speaking about it based on experience?” he can’t help but ask, eyeing the other in somewhat apprehensive way, while in fact, he’s just trying his damn hardest to not burst out laughing. a straw, fucking really.

“look dude,” hojun tries again after a moment, arms raising lazily in a surrender gesture, like he wants absolutely nothing to do with the actual subject of their peculiar conversation. “i don’t know you enough to know what you can and cannot do with your mouth. and if you think the eating part is anything like actual eating, then i definitely don’t want to get anywhere near you. so let’s keep our distance,“ he says and promptly takes a caricaturously long step back, corners of his lips twitching in both grimace and smile. it’s pretty damn apparent by his reactions that, more than anything, he enjoys these bickering sessions more than anything. “don’t you try to shame me for my kinks, when you’re the one who thinks about ass in categories of food and makes an innocent insult of mine all about sexual activities. you’re elbows deep into this now yourself, shithead--hyung.”