#demonxyifan

[kyungsoo-denuo]

I'm-- really trying to keep myself occupied. It's not working.

Go fix the paint on the tree house.

[kyungsoo-denuo]

Is your left eye hurting? Because you've been looking right all day. (/snorts)

Just. Shut up. Right now. Before I throw a lamp at your face.

[kyungsoo-denuo]

Hey--

...

[kyungsoo-denuo]

Happy Valentines Day, loser. I’ll just keep this short because I suck at these things, plus I suck at picking gifts, honestly. And also we’ve been together for like a month and a few days now— not that I’ve been counting or anything, haha…….. it’s whatever. Start drinking your coffee like a civilized person at home now or something. Or don’t, that’s cool too. 

/it's stupid, really, the entire holiday and everything it stands for, and the gesture is equally dumb, accompanied by rambling and overly corny tracking of weeks and days, but it's.. something. it's something he can't really explain in any language he knows, something that makes him want to roll his eyes in annoyance and laugh with sincerity all at the same time, but he settles for the former, offering a quiet snort before he takes the mug and traces a thumb over the little print of the iconic tower; You know I won't. But thanks. 

/he pauses then, lips pursing ever so slightly, and he eventually speaks up again, keeping his gaze averted; I, uh. I didn't get you anything. But you still have that favour from the robot vacuum fight, so.. I guess you can use that. Yeah.

[horrormedsandclaws]

{demonxyifan} Tate

Tate looked out of the window from the upstairs widow, seeing the brand new car with the brand new owners of the not so brand new house they were coming to live in. If only this pretty new man knew the history of the house he was about to set foot in!

Oh, but was he beautiful. Tall, pretty, obviously a bit on the rich end. Tate would corrupt his pretty little world to pieces. He starts by watching him. Closely. 

He can feel the energy off of this new man. It is something that he does not recognize. Dark, yes. Dark like the house. Like him. But not that sort of energy. Something much more powerful. Almost demonic. 

He makes himself appear now.

"Hello. Tate Langdon. Need a history lesson on the foolish decision you made, buying this house? Or were you already well versed in the stories of American Horror, haunting these walls?" he asks, casually. 

[kyungsoo-denuo]

Drabble: death [[obv. Semi-au where Yifan can actually die]]

Death: My character's reaction to your character dying.

Semi-AU, in which the world moves on, but Kyungsoo fails to follow.

Kyungsoo doesn’t attend the funeral.

He could make up an excuse about the crowds, the weeping fans gathered outside the agency building that’s always been dull and grey, or maybe he could say that he didn’t even know about the accident, that he had been out of the country and news traveled slow. Hell, he could even say he didn’t attend because thunderstorms had shrouded the city like linen on a corpse, with camera flashes of lightning and the thunderous vying for a word, please, just one word. Centuries of running away has taught him how to cope with things like this, how to sweep the reality of time under a rug and hope to God that no one sees the teetering mountain of precariously piled memories topped with a single, flimsy piece of decorated fabric. He could spend an entire millenium warping and cherry-picking from history, but nothing would ever prepare him for this.

Kyungsoo has a million and one excuses not to attend, but the fact is that he just doesn’t belong there.

"You fucked up," he begins, speaking in some combination of Korean and Italian, syllables all slurring together like runoff and dirt. "D’you know.. how stupid y’really are? I’m pretty sure if.. if you were a cat, you’d die on your fifth life. Tha’s how dumb y’are. And d’you know what they were gonna do to the house?"

He pauses, giving a non-existent ghost time to respond, then throws his hands into the air, outraged and completely shit-faced. "Sell it! They were gonna sell it! Then some o’er fucker would’ve gotten the tree house and fucked it all up like a.. like a dumb fuck. They would’ve taken the tree house. They were gonna take it…"

Silence follows. With his cheek pressed against rain-kissed grass and red hair sticking to his temple, Kyungsoo lays by Yifan’s grave. He does this for an hour—stares at waltzing characters on a slab of granite and marble while idly picking at wet blades of grass, as gravity restlessly sways this way and that around him and his heart struggles to keep up with its own beating—and when he speaks up again, his voice is nearly drowned out by the constant wash of city noise and autumn showers.

"I bought it. I don’t live in it, but it’s mine now."

Rain continues to fall.

"I bought the house."

A group of bar-hoppers crosses the street.

"It’s mine."

A streetlight flickers. The bell on top of a café door chimes.

"…You fucked up."

[kyungsoo-denuo]

"Where do you suppose we are?"

With nothing else to do and boredom swelling just a little too much in his blood vessels, Kyungsoo naturally finds himself wreaking havoc in Yifan's workplace, from replacing the sugar beside the coffee machines with salt to drawing on the mirrors in the bathrooms with hundred dollar tubes of lipstick and other products. Incredibly, he doesn't get the attention he wants until the red-haired boy starts throwing tiny wads of paper at Yifan while he's working on something "important" on the computer in his office. (But as the saying goes, better late than never.)

With a boyish grin on his face and a set of car keys in his hand, Kyungsoo jogs through the parking garage to find Yifan's car, said taller male trailing behind him with a deep-set scowl on his lips and his brows pinched together. Ordinarily, Kyungsoo would only go so far as to pester the other man with complaints and heavy sighs until given (reluctant) permission to take the car for a spin, but today is just a little different. There's nothing special about a regular Tuesday afternoon, but maybe that's enough reason to make it different.

After three hours of aimless driving, though, Kyungsoo begins to wonder if he should have planned this out beyond simply being given the car keys. A few random turns here and there through the city had been fine for the first hour, but by the time the third rolls around, he's pretty sure they've left Seoul completely. And when taken into account the fact that he's only been outside of the capital once or twice, it's safe to assume that they're lost.

"Where do you suppose we are?" comes Yifan's question after about half an hour of listening to corny pop beats on the radio, and each syllable that reaches Kyungsoo's ears feels like a harrowing stare from the taller male, paired with crossed arms and tight-lipped frowns. All the ruby-haired boy can really reply with is a hesitant mumble of 'somewhere' after taking another random left turn. (And he follows that up with an even quieter 'maybe.') Of course, they could just turn on the navigation system and follow a list of directions, but there's really no point in doing so when they don't even have a destination in the first place.

But maybe, Kyungsoo thinks, they don't really need one anyway.

[mauxluhan]

§

Send me § for a starter based ff of the song I’m currently listening to!

I Don’t Care - Apocalyptica

[[ lemme just— rolls away 

"Well, you can go fuck yourself and everyone else too. I don’t give a shit anymore." Han spat at his brother, his voice seething with a loathing that coursed through his half of their soul. He was used to being irritated by his other half on a daily basis and had made it a point to learn a little thing called tolerance, but there was always so much he could take and he had never had much self control to begin with. The guilt would sink in much later, but for now, he relished in the pain that flashed through Lu’s eyes and the golden orbs that filled up with tears. It felt good to inflict pain, so good that Han laughed as he turned on his heels and stalked for the door. He couldn’t stand to be there a moment longer or else he might just tear everything apart.

He curled up his tail tightly under his winter coat and shoved on a snap-back over his ears, ignoring the sniffles and whimpers behind him as he slammed the door shut. The air was filled with a cold, frigid silence that Han was thankful for. He didn’t want to think anymore, about how irritated he was over something so petty, or about how bad it would be once he got back. With a shake of his head, he took off in a random direction, fighting off the intense energy buzzing just beneath his flesh.

He needed something to do now, before he tore someone to shreds.