#celxyeol

[kwonji-yong-blog1]

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9: forehead     kiss (´ε｀     )♡

Jiyong can’t quite bring himself to hurt the angel who liesmotionless in his sleep. Peaceful, serene, angelic.It’s weird, he thinks, how much emotions he feels sometimes, and then othertimes when it’s completely void off. Maybe he ought to find his own heart, thisJohn Doe’s heart he gotten years back gets too emotional at times, as if Jiyongknew this man. Maybe John Doe did. Who knows, his own heart could have longrotten away, it has been years.

And Jiyong doesn’t know why, Crowley’s—mighty King of Hell—trust is suddenly wavering towards the redhead. Jiyongscoffed, when Shik came knocking on his door again (he finally used the door) and handed him a mission. By of whichmission, it was really a designated assassination. Jiyong shove the scroll backto Shik’s meek face and blew up the scroll in his fit of anger.

“What has this angel got to do with Crowley? Why me.” Jiyong snapped.

Shik has his posture at ninety degrees, his head hung lowly andvoice shaky. He replies that he’s just a messenger; he doesn’t enquire what theKing doesn’t tell him. Jiyong tells him neverto come by his house again, and if he needs to kill an angel just to shut theking up, he fucking will. And he proceeds over to the angel’s house.

And now here he is, stuck, and Jiyong traces his finger along hisjawline. He’s never gotten such calmness washing over him, but with thisbrunette—he does. He almost feels humanagain. It intrigues Jiyong, maybe he doesknow him. After all, there is still a part of his memory that’s left with a gapinghole (when he was turned into a demon). Sungyeol stirs a little in his sleep,and he pulls his bolster closer to his chest, but he remains lying on his back.

Jiyong leans in, and presses his lips gently against the angel’sforehead, and teleports back to his apartment.

[chanyeolxcelx-blog]

Text me

Text me: I’ll write a drabble about my character texting yours or your character texting mine.

Chanyeol’s eyes scanned each inked line on his textbook, registering the information and sighing heavily at all the facts which deemed him straightly mentally ill. Oh, and he knew he wasn’t normal at all because those pathetic earthling thought they could seed compasion in his mind. He had read all about it, but he couldn’t just understand how one would even dare to lean towards such a terrifying sensation. Those who were called “mentally healthy” were actually ruined for life and they wondered why they got hurt so often. They had no idea of the advantages which Chanyeol’s way of living brought along. Free of drama, free of remorse. 

He picked up his phone and typed a random number, before he started hiting the buttons to form the text. “Normality describes the individual behaviour that conforms to the most common behaviour in society, right? Hypothetically, if the population of mentally ill people would be triple the population of sane people, normality would be in favour of the mentally ill, therefore the sane would be locked up in asylums and swallowing drugs so that they could see “reality” just like everyone else. Considering these facts, that normality is defined just by numbers, not by reasonable certainties, are you actually sane or mad?” 

He pressed the send button and waited a few minutes as she scanned the large blue hovering over the city. Fingers tapped along his textbook and not too long passed when he received a simple: “Who are you?” in return. So he managed to type a valid number this time. Interesting.

With a smirk etched on the line of his lips, he swiped his thumb over the screen and tapped his reply. “My textbooks tag me as a psychopath. I prefer to call it /seeing things clearer/ or /enjoying life/.”