#t:thread

[cvtaemin-blog]

oblivion.

@cvsooj​

There's smoke in the air, and Taemin is halfway to wasted. He'd managed to swallow down a couple of drink at someone's party before he'd broken off to stumble his way outside after he'd seen a familiar face duck out not too long ago. He's just drunk enough that striking up a conversation with Jung Soojung seems like a great idea. He's in a strange place mentally though, and Sulli retreating fast away from him despite the desperate way he tried to pull her back, well, it had him attempting to come up with some half-assed battle plan of his own. In retrospect, it would be a poor decision, but then, most of Taemin's decisions are poor ones. He's never been all too great at setting aside visceral reactions for something that entails logic. 

So he had stumbled his way down the stairs of the carriage house and onto the grass outside in pursuit of her. The cold air is a relief from the residual heat of the party, and it has Taemin tugging at the front of his shirt as he stops next to Soojung, shoves a hand into his pocket to tug out a cigarette from his own pack and mumbles around the filter "got a light?" He pulls in a drag when she spares him a glance and ignites the flame for him. Taemin offers her back a smile around an exhale of his own despite the fact that he's probably unwanted company. 

He's never been good about staying out of places (or people) he shouldn't be in, either. He has trouble with keeping up with everyone he pauses to play games with though, jumps from person to person, new interest to interest. He's spent some time with Soojung around the 'off' points of his and Sulli's relationship. It's the reason he's back now, with a crooked smile in place pretending like he's charming. He's far from it, and Soojung probably knows this, but it doesn't chase away the act. "I haven't talked to you in a while, what've you been up to?" Taemin asks her, the words only slightly slurred near the edges. 

He doesn't mention the fact that he had been the one who had dropped contact when him and Sulli had gotten back together, he's at least smart enough not to reintroduce that. It's far easier to pretend like it had never happened in the first place. Even now his intentions aren't pure (but when are they ever?), just wants to build things up to a point where maybe Sulli will notice him hanging around someone else and get jealous, creep back toward him and tell him what the hell went wrong in the first place. "Missed seeing you," he tacks on, pauses to take another drag and sways to the side to brush their shoulders together pointedly.

[cvtaemin-blog]

spectral.

@seulgicv

Taemin's legs are stuck through the rungs of bars that block the fall from the second floor of the balcony to the first. He swings his foot back and forth rhythmically, one shoelace spinning lopsided circles in the air, had come undone earlier and he hasn't bothered to knot it back up again. Seulgi's at his side, along with a bottle of wine at his thigh, perhaps a near-joke to match the ornate setting they've placed themselves in. Like wine will match the grandeur of room despite Taemin’s ratty jeans and Seulgi’s oversized sweatshirt. They came to investigate if the warning the Supreme laid out for the students is true. A largely dubious decision on Taemin's part, considering the last time he'd set off to do that very same thing he'd absolutely hated the outcome. 

Perhaps he's possessed, or perhaps Seulgi had been a convincing enough voice to push him into the ballroom next to her. Everything feels normal anyway, just the rattle of the vents somewhere high above them and the clink of an echo whenever one of them settles the bottle back between them, glass scraping against wood. Or maybe it's just a twisted impulse to torture himself, still has visions of ghosts running through his head late at night when he can't sleep from the party a month ago, and they weren't even real. Just hallucinations born out of his own mind and the wrong combination of ingredients and magic. It's a stupid decision, especially because he's been forcefully bonded. He doesn't want Yoongi to pick up on his insecurities, his fears (he doesn’t even want to lay that weight on Seulgi, but at least he can handle her knowing). 

Taemin knows somewhere in the back of his head that it’s a terrible idea, so he picks up the bottle and takes a very long sip, wants to traipse his way into tipsy so everything will seem just a little easier. "Seems like a hoax." Taemin sighs out, leans forward to rest his forehead against one of the bars, swings one leg to the side to thump his foot against Seulgi's. "How're things though, with like...y'know. Yoongi?" he questions, attempts to keep his thoughts shuttered of from the familiar that's broken away from their side from the time being. He's not sure if he's successful, but he hopes he is. He sighs. "It’s fucked. Just. Wish I could fix it." Taemin tacks on a little stilted, because he does. Because he's not sure what he would do in Seulgi's place if someone could run through his mind when he didn't want them to, when it was such a complicated relationship. He already hated it and he didn't give a fuck about Yoongi.

[cvtaemin-blog]

hazy days.

@cvkangjoon

The breeze was warm as it tugged at tugged at Taemin's hair, sent it into a wild disarray, though he didn't seem all that perturbed. He hadn't brushed it that morning anyway. The rooftop garden was where he usually wasted away hours with the Life and Death Brigade, smoking, drinking, or contemplating life in a way that would make any Philosophy 101 student proud. For the moment though, he was alone, his feet tucked underneath him on one of the old foldout chairs and a cup of coffee he'd picked up earlier from the cafe balanced rather precariously on one of the wobbly metal tables that looked like they were more rust that cast iron. It had long since gone cold, and there was still a bitter taste lingering at the back of Taemin's tongue from the last time he'd taken a sip, almost overshadowed by smoke and nicotine – the evidence of which was stacked up in used filters in an ashtray that looked like it hadn't been properly cleaned out in months. 

He was contemplating lighting up another, but chain-smoking always gave him headaches, and he was already on a bender. He was waiting on Kangjoon anyway, had texted him a handful of minutes ago telling him to meet up with him – request spurred on by boredom and the desire to get his hands on some more of the potions that Kangjoon brewed up for the student body. Sometimes he got a little touchy about being the one that brewed for Taemin specifically, and while Taemin didn't necessarily mind that, he also didn't like waiting when he wanted something. Impatience ran rampant through him, and when the compulsion struck him, it felt like an actual need – would stop at nearly nothing until it was within his grasp. 

Taemin closed his eyes and he could hear the squawk of birds in the distance, could feel the lingering warmth of the sun against his eyelids – though it would no doubt disappear behind the mountains soon as it started to set. Taemin liked the night best though, liked the scattering of stars in the sky, drawn out in constellations with hidden fate tangled up between them if you knew how to pluck fortunes from the galaxy. He liked the quiet that darkness swept in, the feeling of secrecy that seemed to flood the school. There was loneliness, too, the company of his own thoughts when insomnia wouldn't let him sleep and he was the only one awake. Terrible company, company that drove him mad, angry, and desperate. But Taemin never really shared that with anyone, and who would really want to know? 

His eyes fluttered open when he heard the creak of the rooftop door opening, his head tilting to the side to peer sidelong, made sure that Kangjoon's figure was the one climbing up to meet him before he offered him a shadow of a smile. "Took you long enough" the complaint broke the stillness that had collected in the hours he'd spent alone, his voice gruff from disuse and too many cigarettes. "Sit, come keep me company." Taemin mumbled out, stretched out one leg to nudge at an empty chair next to him before he tucked it back into place, one hand reaching for the half-filled coffee cup to take another sip (even if it tasted god-awful at this point, stale and a little too bitter). "Want some?" Taemin wondered aloud when the other finally dropped down next to him, tilted the cup in Kangjoon's direction, even if he was pretty sure that Kangjoon's response would be a resounding 'no.'

[cvtaemin-blog]

starring role.

@cvsungkyung​

Taemin's summer had been filled with long days spent lounging in the sun, legs curled under his sheets, phone in hand telling Sehun or Seulgi to come visit him because he couldn't be assed to move. Parties thrown by his parents, pretending to mingle with people that would theoretically become part of his life once he left the academy (though whether or not Taemin would inherit his place at the head of the family was still up for debate). Exclusive clubs, flutes of champagne and shots of tequila to wash it down with. Then there was Sungkyung. 

Sprawled across his bed as he pressed kisses to the curve of her hip, hands lingering against her thighs and eyes heavy on her figure when she arched underneath him.  It had been fun, a fling formed in the middle of a party that had run a little too long and their families had always been in the same circles. She'd been pretty and Taemin had been bored, too much wine in his system and it meant he hadn't exactly been subtle when he came onto her. Sungkyung had seemed happy enough with the situation though, and they'd tumbled their way into Taemin's bedroom, party abandoned behind them and their clothes soon following. 

He hadn't thought it was anything concrete, had figured when they got back to the campus that they'd fall back into their own little cliques, and maybe he'd text her once or twice if he was drunk and horny. So he'd been surprised when his phone had gone off, a startling rattle against his coffee table, only to find a text from Sungkyung asking if he wanted to meet up. There wasn't much to consider, not when he was bored and she was apparently thinking about him. Taemin was always a fan of attention.

@sungkyung: yeah sure i'm down @sungkyung: i'll head to your room? gimme the rm number i'll be there in like...ten?

He tugged on a pair of jeans that seemed to have more holes than fabric, shoved his things into his back pocket as he kicked at unpacked boxes in an attempt to upend the one that contained his shirts. He found one that didn't look terribly wrinkled, yanked his fingers through his bangs and remembered belatedly to go brush his teeth before he deemed himself ready enough, jammed his feet into sneakers and pushed his way into the hall. He glanced down at his phone, thumb sliding against the cracked glass to read her text as he wandered his way down the stairwell and to the floor that she'd texted him. 

His fist landed heavy on the wood of her door, lips already quirked into something of a smirk and his shoulder balanced against the edge of the frame as he waited for Sungkyung to pull it open. "What, did you miss me that bad?" Taemin asked her when her face appeared, all wide eyes and her hair tumbling down in waves around her. He liked her well enough, that wasn't a lie, there just wasn't much past that. Taemin slept around, and they'd connected, though there was a creeping suspicion that maybe Sungkyung had wanted more. Or maybe he was just reading too far into it. "Do you have anything to drink?" he asked her when she stepped aside to let him in, shook shaggy bangs out of his eyes as he moved past her and toed his way out of his shoes.

[cvtaemin-blog]

without you.

@joohyuncv​

The whole rigmarole of moving back to the academy, unpacking his belongings and getting himself set up for classes was never Taemin's favorite thing. Even when he did abuse telekinesis while sorting through the tangled mass he’d packed (well, to an extent, it was more flinging things in the general area they should go with his mind and ignoring them when they banged loudly against the walls) it didn't really make it any more enjoyable, the novelty of that had worn off long ago. He'd halfheartedly tapped in a list of things he'd forgotten into his phone as he went – notebooks had no doubt been left in a plastic bag hanging from his door, and he had a grand total of two pens (one working), along with miscellaneous other items he'd have to see if his parents would send him. The process of packing was just as exciting to Taemin as unpacking – that is to say, not at all, so it was really no wonder he hadn’t brought everything with him. 

He'd eventually made his way over to the school store, his hair a wild mess and dark bruises pressed underneath his eyes that betrayed his lack of sleep. It wasn't usual, and he often declared that he was purposefully going for a heroin chic sort of vibe – which he also decided gave him the right to look unkempt on a near-daily basis, had a tendency to live in over-sized hoodies and ripped jeans. He lit up on the short walk from the carriage house to the school store, nicotine flooding his system and smoke lingering in his lungs before he exhaled, head tipped back to scatter the sky above him with imitation clouds. 

The heels of his sneakers scuffed the concrete of the sidewalk when he finally made it to the tiny strip of shops that the school had constructed. Taemin loitered outside of the school shop, body tipped to the side to rest his shoulder on a support pillar, had ashes scattering to the wind as he flicked the filter with his thumb, intent on finishing it before he dragged himself inside to buy supplies. Or, more accurately, re-buy. 

Taemin really didn't keep himself in the know when it came to who worked where, what classes people took (unless it could immediately benefit him), or even what covens they were in. He was incredibly self-absorbed, to the point where people often accused him of being narcissistic. He figured that was alright though, he didn't really give a fuck what most people thought about him, not unless he was interested in them. It was due to this however, that Taemin had no idea that Joohyun was working at the school store when he pushed his way inside. He probably should have, they'd only broken up at the end of the last semester. 

He’d said he was glad they were over, said he didn't think about her anymore, but Taemin had always been a fantastic liar and he knew well enough himself that it wasn't true. There was something about Joohyun that pulled him back in time and time again despite the fights that had often sparked up angry and loud between them. Iterations of breakups, and then forgiveness, something set to a never-ending loop. Though Taemin knew he'd thoroughly screwed things up between them the last time, wasn't sure if he'd still see the angry flash in Joohyun's eyes when he grabbed at a couple of notebooks, a pack of pens and dropped them on the counter in front of her. 

They shouldn't happen again, he knew that. They wouldn't happen again. Probably. But god, she was pretty. "Hey Baechu." the words spilled out soft between them, affection hidden in the pet name. "Miss me at all?" there was a near-cocky lift to his lips as he shot her a grin, hand fitting into his back pocket to tug out his wallet and his eyes trained on hers, intent to try and read her reaction.  

[kimperfyeon-blog]

ghost town -- taeyeon & eunjung.

"And exactly, what do you mean you need a break from everyone?" said all eight girls in unison. 

Taeyeon gulped as she rubbed the back of her neck. It wasn't because she was overwhelmed by schedules, or anything of the sort-- in fact, every thing had kept her busy the perfect amount. But, due to her timid nature, she needed time to herself. Or rather, time away from her own home. 

"I just... Need time for myself, is all."

"But you're leaving with Eunjung on a trip. You're not even going with Hakyeon or anything," chimed in one of the members, "and you need a break from us?"

"You just need to understand that I haven't seen Eunjung in a long while, and haven't spent enough time with her-- Hakyeon is busy with schedules, and I just want some time away from... Here." 

All the girls simply nodded their heads. They knew they wouldn't convince the elder otherwise. 

"W-What in the..." Taeyeon muttered as her eyes began to open. Her vision had been limited; it was past sunset. The small woman stood up from what felt like a wooden floor, and straightened her posture. Just where was she?

As her eyes began to adjust, she could make out the shapes of a room-- a room that wasn't really big at all. In fact, it just looked like a hotel room. In that case, why the hell was Taeyeon on the floor? Her brows knitted together as she felt around, grabbing and groping at what ever she could. There was one bed-- there was a nightstand-- wait! Nightstand! Light! 

With hope, she reached about in hopes of a lamp-- and alas, succeeded. She managed to turn on the device, and the room had been illuminated with glorious light. The walls were plain, as were the beds-- that is, excluding the other bed which seemed to be slightly messy. 

"Ah... That's right. I left on a trip with Eunjung. She talked about some fancy town, and I just followed her blindly... Damn. Where is she? Where are we? I can't even remember a damn thing," rambled the woman as she scratched at her head. Well, first thing was first-- finding her buddy. 

"Eunjung? Are you in here? You fuckin' faggot, you better be here... !" spoke the small woman in a raised tone, her eyes scanning around the room.

[theodorebauer]

Toxic People Bring You Down | Teddy & OPEN

Teddy's stomach turned when he looked at the door to the lovely little manor he'd come to call a sort of second home. After centuries of waiting to be welcome, he was unaccustomed to knowing he could walk right through that wooden frame and not watch his skin blister and boil at his intrusion. 

Walking through, he tried to ignore the dizziness creeping down his spine as the spirit of the house took time to check and recheck that he'd been invited. She awoke whenever Theodore came to visit, blinking into consciousness with an intangible alertness as she panicked about his vile, evil essence. He could feel her confusion, her want to protect all those who lived within her; other guests and residents were safer than the unholy, the undead. Shuddering, he turned his collar up against the frigid cold of the house's disdain, one of the only things he could feel against departed skin. 

He moved quickly into the kitchen, avoiding the contact he sought. He'd given Hailey the week off, one shaky phone call while he stared at a corpse, mangled and unrecognizable at his feet. How he'd been so moronic as to forget to feed until he lost himself to his demons, he didn't know, but the rumors of bears in the city, the whispers of keeping children inside--they were all to much for him.

Now, spoiled by the modern fearlessness in people, he softly yearned for the sound of beating hearts around him, the slow tick of life passing by him, frozen in time, a drug to his dull senses. He allowed himself a reprieve from his self-sentenced isolation and poured himself a glass of water, all but useless to him without the single drop of scarlet liquid he swiftly dropped into the glass. It was by no means meant to sustain him, but it was quite enough for the flavor of the soul to burst across his tongue and keep him satisfied while surrounded by sanguine beating through veins all around him, all available and so vulnerable.

Wood creaked behind him and he turned slowly, meeting the gaze of a stranger and suddenly regretting ever visiting at all.

[themanyfacesofeveryone]

Devils Backbone - Timothy - Drabble

"The really dangerous people believe that they are doing whatever they are doing because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous." — Neil Gaiman

A sickening crack ricocheted through the barren forest.  It was followed by the hard, packing sound of impact as her body slipped through his fingers and collapsed against the unforgiving and frozen earth. Afterwards, there was silence. The night sky was clear save for a sliver of moonlight and yet the snow still fell. It spiraled lazily to the ground, smoothing out the rough edges of the forest. This place was long dead and forgotten in the grip of winter and a dark, bitter wind blew.

Timothy championed over the girl’s corpse, watching as flakes of snow settled on the surface of her open, doe eyes. With one quick, fluid motion, he’d completely separated her skull from her weak, spinal column, so even though she lay, a heap, on her stomach, he was still able to see the empty, amber gaze she offered him. A smirk spread over his chapped lips. The stupid thing had come easily enough. All it took was a slip of his tongue, half a bottle of whiskey and some heavy petting and she would have followed him to the ends of the earth. Pawns like this were good in war. Young, feeble-minded werewolves with no direction and no spine. They wandered helplessly into the game, but they didn’t come back out.

The Scottish wolf rolled his neck between his sagging shoulders and the notches in his spine realigned with a symphony of cracks and pops. “Time for the fun part,” spoken in half a growl the gravelly, animal voice, was spoken to the dead girl at his feet. He couldn’t help the rattling chuckle in his lungs as he drew his blood-smattered hunting knife from its sheath. It rang out ominously and glinted in the moonlight. Hanging from the pommel was an assortment of dried, wolf ears, all strung together on a thick piece of twine. Trophies of war, each one representing his blood-thirsty, upward climb toward the top. 

He fell to his knees and rolled the useless corpse over, tearing slitting her shirt to just under her breasts, baring her smooth creamy stomach to the heavens. This was his chance to lead a war, even if it was one he incited. This was his chance to reign, to finally rid himself of the shackles that kept him tethered to the boarded up room of his nightmares, of his youth. The sound of his throat crunching closed in other lupine jaws, his mother’s gurgled pleads as he was the one who finally tore the soft flesh from her bones: these images flooded through him, his personal adrenaline. The rage they conjured had empowered him, pushed him forward, kept him focused and hungry. This was why he was meant to lead: he was willing to make sacrifices, even if it meant murdering members of his own pack, sending a false message. It would bring his pack to power, but more importantly it would bring him to power. It would bring him the fuel that he needed to fight, to dominate, and to conquer.

With his thumb against the flat spine of his knife, he pressed the curved blade into the ivory skin of the girl’s belly. Her flesh split open easily and blood poured out like a river, steaming and fluid. It pooled around her, sunk into the fabric of his clothes, melted the snow. It was a beautiful contrast. The pure white snow and the angry red of her blood. How fucking poetic. He carved the rival pack’s name into her skin along with a few, simple, yet threatening, words. Beware. War is coming. When he was done, he stood to examine his work. What a fucking horror show. He grinned, feeling a ripple of satisfaction roll over him. It was a perfect message. One of the youngest, newest pack members picked off in this empty woodland. A vision of vibrant red in a monochromatic wasteland. The precursor to a bloody, merciless fight.

Despite the arctic cold, he’d managed to work up a sweat as he worked. Or perhaps it was the adrenaline that shook off the cold. With a swipe of his hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow, leaving a smear of crimson. He was covered in her blood. It saturated the ragged clothing he wore, stained his arms, his jaw. All the more dramatic, he thought to himself. It ought to rise those dormant fucks out of their dens. He leaned back against the gnarled, stunted trunk of a tree and pulled out a flask. Instead of drinking from it, he used the whiskey inside to sanitize his hunting knife. With a strip of fabric, he scrubbed the blood and grime from the blade, taking special care with all the little grooves and curves. After a long meditation from the remainder of the flask and a bout of chain-smoking, he was ready.

With the crescent moon on his shoulders in the quiet peak of night, Timothy ran. He ran through the undergrowth and the thick brush, his limbs moving instinctually, propelling him faster and with seamless agility through the tangled woods. The story was flawless. He told it to himself over and over as his feet pounded into the impressionable earth. They fucking jumped us! There were too many to bloody fight off! Already images supplied by his imagination were piecing themselves together. Images he could project into the minds of his pack members to solidify the lies he told. I tried to save her — I tried, god fucking damn it! If this is the bloody game they’re going to play, I say it’s time we got off our lazy fucking asses and find them. If they want war, let’s give ‘em a fuckin’ war! 

 It was perfect. Seamless.

He would be alpha by the full moon.