#hetricks

[hevoyeurs]

hetricks:

                      𝙹𝙸𝚆𝙾𝙾𝙽   𝙿𝙴𝙴𝚁𝚂   𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁   𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙽𝚈’𝚂   𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁          with   vague   interest   at   what   he’s   holding   ;   of   course,   if   Danny   is   holding   it   at   all,   he’ll   be   too   happy   to   share   it   with   the   idol.   Narrowed   eyes   flicker   over   the   photo   with   amusement   —   Danny   had   always   been   a   little   bit   OLD   FASHIONED  after   all,   &   the   vintage   sheen   of   the   Polaroid   is   beautiful,   if   not   EERIE.   But   perhaps   that’s   the   point,   isn’t   it   ?   Danny’s   smile   certainly   says   so.   &   the   reaction   that   the   picture   pulls   from   him   is   contagious.   The   miserable   twist   of   the   corpse’s   face   makes   Jiwoon’s   stomach   do   a   giddy   little   loop,   &  a   lopsided   grin   follows   on   his   face   when   he   looks   to   his   killer.

                    ❝   𝑉𝑒𝑟𝑦.   ❞         Comes   the   simple   reply,   &   Jiwoon   glances   back   at   the   picture   for   one   more   moment   before   reaching   to   pat   an   affectionate   palm   against   the   side   of   Danny’s   head.   He   is   a   special   kind,   that’s   for   certain   —   dragging   evidence   around   with   him   everywhere   he   goes.   But   perhaps   that’s   part   of   the   rush,   for   him.   &  really,   doesn’t   Jiwoon   do   the   same   ?   The   screams   in   his   music   are   just   DISTORTED   enough   to   obscure   proof   from   a   detective’s   eye.

                     Jiwoon   leans   against   the   back   of   Danny’s   chair,   lazily   draping   an   arm   over   his   shoulder   as   he   peers   back   down   towards   his   wallet   with   an   unsated   curiosity.         ❝   𝐷𝑜   𝑦𝑜𝑢   ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒   𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒   𝑖𝑛   𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒   ?  ❞

He knows Jiwoon will understand. There are so few who understand the artistry, the thrill of what Danny does. The mementos he keeps from his victims are sometimes even more thrilling than the moment his knife plunges into them, and the post-murder selfie is a ritual he simply cannot pass on. Over the years he has amassed quite the collection of damning evidence, and each risk he takes with them is another absolutely irreplaceable thrill. Jiwoon is the same. Where Danny savours the sight of his victims, Jiwoon clings to the sound, shares it with the world, lets it work them up to a frenzy without realising what they are listening to. 

     It’s beautiful. Danny respects it, but he would never dream of sharing his own memories so widely. His are so precious, shared only with himself and those he holds the closest. 

     The way Danny looks at the photo is endearing bordering on obsessive. Even when he leans his head gently against Jiwoon’s, he cannot tear his eyes away. “No,” he answers plainly, distracted, rubbing his thumb against the already-worn edges of the photograph. “He was my first. But...” Carefully folding the photo, Danny tucks it away again, then digs his finger into the clear plastic pocket where his driver’s license is, tugging it and two other cards out. On top is JED OLSEN, the one he displays to the world. The one on the bottoms belongs to DANNY JOHNSON, the man Jiwoon knows. Between the two is a familiar face — the other man in the polariod, his lips pressed together, not quite smiling in his official photo. “He was alive when they took this,” Danny says, and there’s something almost affectionate in his voice. “I hold onto it. Keep it safe. It seemed a shame to leave it.”

[hevoyeurs]

" enjoy this moment, few get so close. " :)

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

"Oh, I know." Jiwoon looks incredible like this, sprawled out on Danny's gingham sheets, arms pillowed beneath his head to show a bare chest littered with scars, most subtle, some not. Danny straddles his hips, resting comfortably on his lover. He knows how much fans would pay to see this — has seen the price of simple photocards that could, presumably, simply be printed off and laminated — but what Danny gets from it goes much deeper.

"A picture is worth a thousand words," he murmurs, drawing out each syllable like it's a delicacy to be savoured. Shifting his weight, Danny feels Jiwoon's warmth beneath him, feels Jiwoon breathe in. A blade flashes, catching the light of the lamp, and Danny traces the line of Jiwoon's jaw with it, watches the way his lashes flutter, his lips pull into a satisfied grin as if he were a cat and Danny were just scratching his chin.

Danny's lips part. His lungs force an excited breath out when Jiwoon's eyes close and Danny is free to look. To admire as much as he wants. His skin prickles, like something is trying to get out.

"Oh," Danny breathes, drawing the knife down Jiwoon's throat, over the dip at the bottom and on to the hard plateau of his sternum, into the hollow at the base of his ribs, all the way to where their bodies meet. "You are exquisite, my star." Jiwoon makes an appreciative noise in the back of his throat that sends Danny fumbling for his polaroid, desperate to catch this yawning moment.

There's a click, and the low whirr of the camera, and then Danny holds the photo gently, watching as it develops. "Oh," he says again, and his hips roll with excitement. "It's perfect." The camera is set aside, precious even in this moment, and then Danny leans forward, takes up the knife again, and exhales against Jiwoon's face. "You're perfect." And then his fingers press against the headboard, flattening the photo, and —

With a thunk, the blade sinks into the wood, pinning the polaroid above their heads. Danny grins, gazing down at his lover, and finally lets their lips meet. "And now this moment is mine."

[lumenari]

STARTER:   @hetricks

   most of what went on within the fog didn't pass her by  —  the closest she'd ever gotten to omniscience had been right here, with the humans and creatures she had pulled in from the multiverse. she rarely visited the same world twice, keeping her footprint outside of this pocket dimension as small as possible. while it would be hard to find her here, it wasn't impossible, and lucifer didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.

   everything went about as she expected, until the last one she found. while there were quite a few killers running around her realm that enjoyed what they did, something had been different about this one from the start. most of them were not this aware of her; when she was watching, or when she was near. it didn't take him that long to realise that wasn't par for the course, either.

   while it didn't necessarily bother her, it did irritate her that she didn't know why this happened. having become so used to knowing everything to do with her pocket dimension, this one took her off guard. she wasn't used to that feeling anymore. a part of her wanted to blame him and kick his ass back out, let him get caught by the police back in his home world.

   but she needed him, like she needed everyone else that was here. it wasn't easy finding the right souls for the job, and seized any she could find.

   she had manifested into her corporal form, something she wasn't quite used to anymore either, but it felt like a better choice than being a disembodied voice again, like she had been when she first pulled him and yunjin into the realm. she pushed her red hair out of her face as her heels set foot on soil once more. it didn't take ji woon long to take note of her, just as she expected.

   mismatched eyes looked at the lifeless body of nea for a moment, arms crossed in front of her chest, before she glanced back up at him. killing by their own hand wasn't her preferred method  —  it wasn't as potent as when it was through ritualistic sacrifice. but she hadn't come here to lecture him on that.

   ❛ having fun? ❜  her left brow quirked upward, question mostly rhetoric as she already knew the answer to that. she'd observed him during trials quite a few times, and out of everyone here, he probably enjoyed himself the most.

[factgone]

ji-woon  hak / @hetricks​:        ❛  can  i  do  you  a  favour?  ❜  jiwoon's  voice  comes  lightly,  suggesting  a  gift,  though  with  the  hawk  -  like  look  in  his  eyes  it's  more  likely  to  be  an  injury.  ❛  here's  some  advice  :  if  you  give  up  now,  you  won't  waste  your  entire  life  chasing  a  dream  that  won't  come  true.  got  it,  yeah  ?  ❜

there  is  never  a  moment  of  true  peace  in  this  hellscape  —  the  entity  likes  to  reminder  her  of  that  any  time  she  begins  to  feel  a  deceptively  sweet  sense  of  comfort  outside  of  the  confines  of  an  active  trial.  she  knows  that  she’s  never  truly  safe    ( she  never  was  before  she  got  here,  case  in  point:    ending  up  here );    still,  part  of  her  had  expected    ( hoped )    for  some  time  to  herself  for  a  change.  fingers  curl  around  the  well-loved  paperback  jacket  of  a  classic  she’s  read  over  hundreds  of  times  since  she  got  there,  the  saccharine-sweet  tone  of  a  certain  wolf  in  sheep’s  clothing  causing  a  cold,  prickling  sensation  to  creep  at  the  back  of  her  neck.  

all  at  once  focus  is  pulled  as  her  gaze  lifts  away  from  the  words  on  the  pages  in  front  of  her,  meeting  an  all-too-familiar  sharpened  gaze.  she  hates  the  way  the  air  stills  in  her  lungs  and  fights  to  keep  from  showing  any  of  it  on  her  face  as  she  hangs  on  to  every  melodious  word  he  speaks,  letting  it  weigh  in  her  mind.  TRANSLATION:        STOP  WASTING  YOUR  TIME.  YOU’LL  NEVER  MAKE  IT  PAST  AN  AUDITION  FOR  A  TOOTHPASTE  COMMERCIAL.  YOU’RE  ADEQUATE  FOR  COMMUNITY  THEATRE  AND  NOT  MUCH  ELSE.  perhaps  it  would  have  the  same  agonizing  affect  on  her  if  it’s  not  mid-level  harsh  criticism  she’s  received  in  her    ( now  hanging-in-the-balance )    lifetime,  thus  far.  gaze  squints  for  a  moment  in  confusion,  as  if  she’s  putting  pieces  of  a  puzzle  together;        rather,  the  immense  discomfort  she  feels  being  this  close  is  pushed  aside.

❛  your  concern  is  sweet.  ❜        book  is  shut,  all  but  discarded  as  arms  fold  on  top  of  the  table  she’s  sat  at.  to  an  outsider,  they  could  be  two  friends  catching  up.  they  wouldn’t  catch  the  subtle  tells  —  the  way  her  fingers  curl  tightly  into  her  palm,  the  way  her  jaw  clenches  as  she  appears  to  mull  over  her  next  words  carefully,  the  way  her  smile  is  lacking  the  softness  it  usually  carries  as  she  leans  closer.        ❛  I  had  a  russian  ballet  teacher,  and  my  turnout  was  less  than  one-eighty,  so  that  would  almost  cut  deep  if  it  were,  you  know  —  original.  ❜

and  then  she  laughs,  a  hollow  imitation  of  something  genuine,  lacking  all  the  warmth  and  brightness  her  lilt  usually  possesses  —  something  she  doesn’t  care  to  hide.  in  for  a  penny,  in  for  a  pound.        ❛  did  they  tell  you  that  in  boot  camp?  ❜        poking  the  lion  is  an  impulsively  stupid  move  on  her  part.  careless.  fueled  by  a  potent  combination  of  pride  and  wrath  that  will  undoubtedly  get  her  killed,  or  worse.  but  she’s  tired,  and  on  edge,  and  under  a  false  sense  of  security  that’s  cracking  as  the  moments  pass  by.        ❛  you  know,  where  they  had  to  mold  you  into  something  that  just....  comes  naturally  to  some  of  us?  ❜

[cautelous]

" why are you wearing that ? are you undercover, or just screaming for help ? " sighs

Julian looks down at his clothes, frowning. Oh, no, someone doesn't like his outfit? Goodness. He might have to have a little cry about it.

“I really don’t think yellow’s your color,” he replies, disinterestedly looking at his nails. “Or pink. Some people just... aren’t very suited for vibrant tones, unfortunately enough.”

He gives Ji-Woon a sympathetic look. “Maybe try some muted greys.”

[hevoyeurs]

jiwoon is bored. jiwoon is bored, and danny is not paying attention to him, & frankly, that should be illegal. a vibrant blade buries itself neatly in the wooden table next to danny's hand. if he looks up, he'll find jiwoon glowering at him from the corner, arms crossed over his chest & gaze narrowed into slits. " you said you wouldn't work while i was here. " he points out, tone even & caustic. his fingertips tap along his own forearm, impatient. " i don't have forever, you know. i could find some other basement - dwelling ghost impersonator to kiss. "

Jiwoon is bored and Danny is being made to suffer for it. In Danny's defense, he doesn't know when the popstar is going to drop by, and if Jiwoon would tell him he'd be able to plan for it. But he's got to get this story down before the feeling goes away. The police haven't released the details yet, and Danny will have to adjust his story when they come out (and really, he shouldn't be writing all this down at all, but writing down the details like he's going to share them with the whole town is exciting. It feels good.) but he wants to capture this moment in writing, even if he's the only one who'll be able to read it.

He types with a fervour that only possesses him when he's writing about — or committing — the ghostface murders, and while it's possible that quite a bit of time has passed, it's more likely to have been a couple of minutes — the extent of Jiwoon's patience. Danny's almost done, though. He's almost —

Thunk. His hand flinches instinctively as a knife embeds itself into the desk. His desk. There's a pause, and then Danny rests his now-still hands back on the keyboard and turns to look over his shoulder. Jiwoon is all colour, neon pinks and blues, and he almost hurts to look at. Danny is quiet, listening to the complains, and then he sighs. Taking off his reading glasses, Danny sets them on the desk, taking hold of the knife (so flashy and impractical, just like everything else Jiwoon does) and then yanking it out.

"I have to get this article done," he says, weary, but sits up from his chair anyway. Twirling the blade in one hand as he crosses the room to Jiwoon, Danny savours the slow approach, of watching Jiwoon. There are so many who would covet the opportunity to watch a star shed his mask, but only Danny gets to see it. Only Danny gets to see his true face. "And some of us have to earn a living."

When he reaches Jiwoon, Danny taps the handle of the knife against the taller man's chest, tap, tap, tap. "Do you want this back?" He asks, "Or can I keep it?"