#dvtaemin

[dvjei-blog]

i’m not crazy, i’m just having a bit of fun.

「 starters. :: currently ➝ accepting. 」

❛ If that’s what you wanna call it. ❜

AKA “I still think you’re out of your fucking mind.” if his actions weren’t sketchy enough the aura he emits isn’t serene in the slightest. not saying that jei has a right to judge others for having troubling vibes ( a privilege obviously saved for the pure, honorable members of society. ): that’s hypocritical coming from the neighborhood bitch but even she’s a bit disconcerted around him. she can’t trust him. not because she thinks he’ll kill her, just because he’s a mixture between a teenage boy who just sprung a chest hair & a bratty nine year old. a GREAT combination, sike. aggravation is inevitable, she can already feel it flooding her veins & he hasn’t even done much, yet, she’s too intrigued to leave. set on watching how this unravels.  

❛ why are you doing this, anyway? are you perhaps, spiteful? who hurt you, kid? or maybe seeing people bothered is a kink of yours, enlighten me.❜ very rarely does anything pique her interests, even in the slightest, but somehow he’s managed to engage her– spark that uncommon curiosity. 

[dvbaekhyun-blog]

what can i say – i’m just that bad.

at first, baekhyun only gives a low hum as an answer, not even sparing the other male a glance, because his eyes are still glued to the screen of his phone, too engrossed in watching the little animated kittens of his favorite app moving around, playing with rubber balls and sleeping on soft, silky cushions.

but then, his brain processes the words he just heard — and it’s not like he didn’t listen to the story taemin just told him, at least not entirely, because he’s caught all the important snippets of it to know what it was about, so it’s fine, right?— and baekhyun closes the cat game, before turning around on the floor to lie on his side to be able to get a better look at the other.

a smug grin immediately tugs on his lips as baekhyun’s eyes start darting back and forth between taemin’s pretty face and his body. “ohhh, i think i can imagine how bad you are”, he chirps, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him.

he can’t hold this expression up for long, though, because he already breaks out into laughter the next moment; and when he calms down again, he simply returns his attention back to his phone, still smiling in amusement over his own horrible flirting attempt.

[dvxwonwoo-blog]

lying is easy. it’s what i do.

prompts (x) // accepting

He’s standing beneath the streetlight, the cold curlingaround his wrists and ankles, snowflakes setting onto the strands of his hair –onto the material of his coat, his fingers, his eyelashes. Above stars hungfrom the heavens as luminous, decaying pendants. They lied against the blankexpanses of a deep, endless existence, and infinitesimal and insignificant was Taemin and himself, caught far below inside the whirl of a tender snowfall. Wonwooinhaled dark clouds of poison into his chest, his cigarette smoldering, warming his body and hands from the inside. Why were they here,in this moment? The smoke peeled from his lips, it cascaded upwards and vanishedinto the night, whisking his mind away to Rumi, the lines of poetry etched intothe deepest crevices of his memory.

     This is how strange your fear of death      and emptiness is, and how perverse      the attachment to what you want.

He shouldn’t be here; if he sowedseeds in humanity then he would grow roots of regret and violent infection.

“That’s fine. You can lie. It doesn’tconcern me.” Something twisted his gut, and then the tension was relieved, likea painful memory that could only rise to his subconscious. Wonwoo wondered ifTaemin ever felt at home during the winters, but he had no reason to ask, and like thatthe curiosity dissipated easily with another exhale of cigarette smoke. “It’swhat you do.” He repeated, and nothing changed, the universe continued to expandits reach and the cold sunk into the center of his hands. The feeling ofstanding outside of time was comfortable – if the world could continue spinningwith him kept still on the outskirts, that would be ideal. “Let’s goinside.” He put the cigarette out on the lamppost, and ashes collected on thefilm of white, virginal snow.

“It’s cold.”

[dvxwonwoo-blog]

a bit awkward.

dvtaemin

In a quiet cavalcade waltzed lethargy: his muscles wound into knots, bruises sprouting across his mental landscape. Despite the keen awareness Wonwoo kept on his emotional state he fell into the weariness, which meant vague nightmares and loss of concentration, his attention oscillating between the canvas of nothingness and the minutiae details that plagued the reality around him. It only took a mindless few turns to get him to realize that he had no idea where he was, and in that moment he thought it would be useful if he could just throw him brain in the garbage – obviously it was useless now, rotted and full of good ideas on how to get lost in an oversized school for angst-ridden, supernatural youth.

He ran his fingers through his hair, tousling the fringe and letting it fall back onto his face in haphazard chaos. There were textbooks to read and essays to write, yet these mundane demands twisted no anxiety from within, instead Wonwoo shut out all the superfluous noise of his mind and focuses outward – until he picked up on the sound of music and footsteps, noise he then followed, reasoning he could simply ask for directions like a functional person. From beneath a door wandered the harmonies, and through the window he settled his sight on the spectacle: a man following the waxing and waning of the unfamiliar composition, body twisting between the increments of beats.

Wonwoo thought of boiling water, lavender, and the dead of winter.

Perhaps the student had a talent for enchantment, much like the sirens of Greek legends, and he drifted into a daze, fixated on the man’s movements and the music resonating throughout his body. He felt his legs move, deciding there wouldn’t be harm in getting a bit closer, but a single footstep become two or three, and when the glass struck his forehead a surge of pain dissolved the reverie as well as the ambiance with the loudness of the impact. “What kind of sorcery – ” He winced, and came to the slow realization of how – how stupid he had to be to walk into a glass door, and really, he could use a trashcan to put his brain in about now.