#escrvtoire

[tridvm-blog]

saltbae :

@escrvtoire:

it wasn’t that he was jealous. the man song qian came with was a regular, and seokjin took pride in the fact. but it was more so qian’s presence that irked him, and since he couldn’t exactly skin the man alive himself, jin took the next best option: making sure to show the older male how well he could do it. hypothetically speaking.

pleasantries aside, jin called for his knives, and the meat. the material for art was before him. the camera was trained on him -- he made a mental note to pay the guy extra later -- and, gripping onto one end of the red slab, he ran his palm through it, and slapped it twice, before reaching for his knife, and sliced off the fat with a clean, polished flourish, making eye contact with the older man at the end of it: a threat, carried in style.

[tridvm-blog]

re-do :

@escrvtoire​:

eunjae didn’t outright reject the offer for a promotion. i’ll think about it isn’t a rejection, at least; but it’s why he’s given enough time to himself to go back to the scene of the crime. it’s how he’s able to follow the trail of blood that shouldn’t be there; they never found her body -- and he follows it and follows it, all the way down this red brick road until he finds a secret passage that leads to -- outside.

and he finds nothing.

“stupid,” he mumbles, kicking the exit door shut. and if he didn’t look up, he wouldn’t have seen a familiar face, disappearing behind a corner -- and he follows, because it’s what he’s always done, and what he will continue to do. it’s not grief, because she isn’t dead. she can’t be. 

“seon?” he calls out, following the ghost deeper and deeper into the shadows, “seon, come on! stop running -- wait up!”

[illvnis]

☀

          ｢ — 352 sentences meme           ｢ — status: accepting

droplets of rain pelted against the thick glass of the window, effectively creating a soothing ambiance in the coffee shop. the student is tucked away in a booth in the back, a once sweltering cup now barely warm sitting besides her clutter of school supplies. it isn’t a pretty sight, with her hair messily tied atop her head, head cradled in her palms as any and all motivation began to disappear. 

tomoe required a boost of energy, that much was for sure. so she’ll rise from her seat, weaving her way through the scattered tables and chairs, wallet clutched tightly in one hand, while the other pushed objects aside so she could slip though easily. if only there could be a day in which the cafe wasn’t filled with ever so talkative customers, so she could have a moment of peace. 

the coffee is ordered, made, and delivered directly into her possession, the hot cup held gingerly in her hands. the heat brings much needed warmth to her palms, effectively putting her in a much better mood than before. 

though that all falls away in seconds. 

a turn to the direction of her booth leads in her cup falling from her grasp and onto the floor, the searing liquid staining the front of her top. of course someone would have to run into her on a day as busy as this, and tomoe can’t help the glare she directs in their direction. 

“are you fucking crazy?”