#apos;trophe

[aerentus]

♪;

send me a ♪ and i will write a short drabble about our muses, based on the first song that comes up on shuffle;

snow white - labyrinth ear

I’m wishing (I’m wishing)For the one I loveTo find me (to find me)Today (today)I’m hoping (I’m hoping)And I’m dreaming of The nice things (the nice things) He’ll say

[ the emphasis is obviously not on the narration of the lyrics— click the link

[ china au ? where ren is psychotic (read: psychologically fixated on boy) and myungsoo is a boy that exists im sorry

But he just laughed.  Told him he was cute.  Ran his fingers through his blonde and tugged and tugged.  His red disappeared too. But the glitter never left.  Something pulled at his eyelashes then; something was different about this Charming.  Was he mirrors?  His corners didn’t match.  Not when their hands touched, not when they didn’t.  Everyone’s corners matched.  Even at the hospital.  Why was he the exception?

Perhaps he should bury him.  But then that would be silly, wouldn’t it? Indentations in the sheets, where he moved, but no longer?  Overdone. He was too pretty to feed to his flowers.  (Not everyone was). Perhaps he was to keep him.  He did keep a pair of good hands.  And Shanghai was never interesting enough a city without a mouth to keep oneself occupied.  Would he be just as pretty just beneath the surface of the Bund?  How blue would the blue of his lips be?  Would he still sparkle? He’s taken to answering to Charming, now.  None of that silly ‘Myungsoo’ babble.  Though, it’s nice to have options.  He lets him lick ice cream off the tip of his nose.  People keep dogs around, do they not?

His tummy was so soft.  It would be so easy.  Too easy.  Fifteen minutes of secrets, and then maybe he would lose his sparkle.  But then he wouldn’t make breakfast anymore, and that wouldn’t be any fun, even if they were truly only ever crummy breakfasts. Besides, this was his favorite set of linen.  Charming’s hair was always nice like this; mussed. Sleepy in the way the lines of his face blurred, softened, slackened; sparkle very much intact.  It upset his stomach.  Two faced boy.

Was it Christmas?  It was hard to remember with fingers pressed to the notches in his spine.  Charming liked that.  Counting things.  Fingers, knuckles, breaths, teeth.  Liked counting them with his own.  Always sparkling, eyelashes a flutter of silver leaves, tongue of gold foil.  How pretty would his red smear?  Would he disappear like so much sleet down Chinese gutters?  Fingers trapped between lips trapped between guitar stings trapped between the heavy of snow flurries make for a warm winter, and Ren doesn’t think that that’s very fair.  Winters are to be anything but.  It was what sold hot chocolate and mittens, was it not?

He frowned, eyes fixed at his hands placed about Charming’s throat, breaths the even meter that accompanied sleep.  He smiled then, the bastard.  Something glimmering poking through his teeth.  He lowered his hands, shifting to curl into his side.

Not today.

[aerentus]

Don't chase the rabbit.

Send me “Don’t chase the rabbit” and your muse will be shown a random memory from my muse’s past.

Gold.

The red kind, flecking his vision and staining his immediate surroundings. The smarmy voices of fire sprites singing clouded his eyes with the color as they raced along singed flesh, animated not twenty minutes before. Where they danced along skin mortal and mortus, tickling the nose of decay and eating away his kin, they kissed his eyelids, all tinkling laughs and murmurings of concern at the purple in his skin, waxing vitreous in its pallor. He couldn’t blame them. It was in their nature, and they looked so happy. Asides that, they did not choose to light themselves. They did. Seventy-eight days, he hadn’t been outside.  It showed in his sunken cheeks, the swelling in his joints, the bruises that bloomed beneath flesh and struck rot into the marrow of his bones.  With every passing of small burning fingers to his skin, did the symptoms lessen; color returning to his cheeks and blood from the wound coalescing to tuck itself neatly back into his vessels, flesh stretching like fingers over the bullet wound to bind over the lesion. Funny, that. The very creatures whose element brought nourishment to his emaciated body engulfed his kindred, soon to be mere ashes and bone, though They hadn’t stayed long enough to see it. They had only stayed to light the pyre, temporary relief flooding their guilt-stained auras before they had to flee, for The Whites were coming.  He heard it, crawling through the floorboards.  Panic.  Decision. Scruples like marbles, lost beneath the armoire. Ere of the execution, he had wished for this.  He had wished to be outside, wished for the elements, wished to be alone, wished for the earth beneath his bare toes. Now, now he wished to be back in that horrible place, bedridden and under house arrest, with Nagorny and Mummy hovering, bruises wrapping purpled fingers around his lungs. He could almost hear it. The Fates laughing. House of Special Purpose indeed.

[aerentus]

☱

29 September, 2013

Today, dear friend, I sow the benefits of dropping the seeds of a first encounter. He is puppy’s good friend, Kai. Different as they are in appearance and mannerism, I find that the one that happens to be allergic to the flora that inhabits so much of my core that I wouldn’t be surprised if the stuff were the make up of my bones, is the one I find more pleasant of the two. Where Hanyoung is prickly, Kai is..smooth? His words are much like the ink that stains your face, friend. Only, the effect is that it is dropped into the air as if it were a liquid, honeyed and flirtatious, potent even. But then it disperses and means nothing in the end. Nothing is meant to hurt, and it doesn’t. There are no barbs that come to pass his lips, full as they are, they are not of venom. His eyes are the sleepy sort, and amused is the default of his countenance. It’s especially particular, I think, because his aura carries something of weight. Charming as he is, there is something genuine tucked behind his teeth, wedged between the space between his ribs and his lungs. I don’t think there is a word for it. It makes me curious. Asides, he makes pleasant company. I think I shall keep this one.

Yours, Ren.

[aerentus]

ღ

Batting his eyes playfully at the male, he grinned, dimples forming in his cheeks, his expression turning almost theatrical. “You mean it? I get to have Teddy all to myself for a date?” He held a hand to his chest, seeming a tad too touched by the gesture, though it was in jest. “Yes, yes, yes. Where are we off to?”

[aerentus]

ღ

Lifting his eyes to the tow head at the question, his cheeks dimpled in a smile. “This is a pleasant surprise, Sehun.” Pursing his lips, he nodded, eyes aglimmer.”A date would be lovely. Where would we go?”

[aerentus]

ღ

"A date?" Viridescent irises glimmered with playfulness, pleased at the inquiry. Proffering his arm to take, he bowed slightly, doffing an inexistent cap. "It would be an honor."

[aerentus]

spin [I'm not here this weekend but why not?]

8th Person gets: Married to my muse for a week

A brow raising at the announcement, he casted his eyes about in search for the individual that the terms were tied to. Vision falling upon a somewhat familiar face, the visage handsome, to say the very least, he offered a smile. “Very well, I guess we’re wedded, then?”

[aerentus]

spin;

7th Person gets: A lap dance

Raising his eyes, a grin pulling at his lips, he chuckled, having recognized the mien of the male requesting such brazen a request. It was the bookkeeper that he had encountered, the one who found so much pleasure in shelving. “Fancy meeting you again.” He chuckled, gesturing to a chair pushed up against the wall. “Please, take a seat.” Lighting upon his lap weightlessly, he slung his forearms over the male’s shoulders, hips starting to lightly grind down, fingers playing familiarly among chestnut locks. “What strange circumstances we find ourselves in, do you not agree?”