“There... has only ever been one which I regret as I tend to avoid attachment for the reason that emotions would get in the way of a job--or a meal. In the kill I now refer to, it’s only ever happened once, my assigned target was a little boy, six years old, the son of a wealthy bastard who didn’t pay my employer in due time. The punishment was to take the child’s life. At first I didn’t care, after all it was just another person to kill, and another meal for me. But the moment I snuck through the kid’s window and laid eyes on him, I felt my breath catch in my throat. He was sitting on this La-Z Boy reading a book in his lap while Rachmaninov was playing in the background; there were bruises all over his body, I couldn’t be sure if it was because he was bullied at school or if he was abused by his damned father; but he looked up at me with wide eyes and the most innocent expression I’ve ever seen. I felt like I was looking at myself when I was the same age. So many thoughts raced through my mind and it was mostly a question of ‘why?’ in all possible variations. In the end, well, I couldn’t not kill the kid. But I didn’t hurt him the way I did my usual victims, I did it in the nicest way I could: had him turn around, point a gun to his head and... That was it. I didn’t even take his soul anymore.”
“A good kill is generally what I identify as a fun kill. There’s more of an orchestrated noise of violence: more bones cracking, more screams, and a more fearful victim with quite a bit of meat on ‘em. Don’t get me wrong, I do like the taste of human flesh and blood every so often, but I’m really in it for the sound of ripping. When I don’t take a bite out of the kill--which is more often than not, mind you--I suck out the soul and leave. Unless it was a task then I’d dispose of the carcass properly.”
“Weapons can be fun when killing, especially if you’re in the mood for torture, you know, slow and painful deaths, watching the blood pour nice and slow. However, I’ve got a preference for using my bare hands; particularly, it’s the sound that I look for such as the crunch and crackle of bones, the flesh tearing, blood splattering onto the ground, and oh, let’s not forget the screams. I do love the terrified screams the most.”
{ ` looks at his hands uncomfortably and lets a sigh escape from his lips } … when i choke myself, i feel lightheaded. i feel a euphoria and i just — it helps me forget { ` smiles bitterly } fucking sick i know. { ` laughs hollowly and points to his throat } see my throat, you can’t see it, but there’s many bruises. i cover it up with make up. and you might ask can’t you kill yourself? fuck i know that. { ` crosses his arms and looks around forlornly } and — i don’t give a damn if i die or not. ain’t that sad? don’t pity me or try and stop me. { ` growls and clenches his fists } i’m already dead on the inside.
Put An ‘Angst Please.’ In My Ask And I’ll Generate A Number 1-10 And See What Our Muses Get!
Number; 3; (Trigger Warning) Our muses are in an abusive relationship together and things take a turn for the worse. (Trigger Warning)
They had been fighting for several days, it went from silent glares to shrill screams that could barely be heard by the human ear. After the past days they were both left with bruises and scratches. It was after some time they became a couple, it wasn't sure who had actually thrown the first punch. But for some reason neither left, they stayed but things didn't change. It just got worse, the abuse being both physical and mental. Had someone asked them, they'd admit that this of course wasn't what they had wanted but soon as the initial feeling of being in love, and the every day life caught up with them they turned sour. They scowled and argued from they woke up until they fell asleep. Funny thing was that no matter how angry they were, Luhan always ended up in Giseok's arms by the end of the night.
Giseok was currently in the bathroom, attending to a cut Luhan had somehow caused along his cheekbone. Luhan entered too, sending Giseok a scowl before entering the shower. "What?" Giseok shot out, causing Luhan to just shrug and keep washing up. It turned a switch on in Giseok's head, why couldn't the boy just answer him? He walked over to the shower and yanked the door open, stepping fully dressed into the shower and he shoves Luhan against the wall so the young boy's head slammed into the wall with an unpleasant sound. Luhan turned, blood trickling down his face from a fresh cut to his eyebrow. The younger was quick to return the act, pushing Giseok's shoulder so he falls back against the glass shower.
To Luhan it seemed to move in slow motion, Giseok's face turned from angry to frightened as he felt the glass give in behind him and he crashed along with the glass into the marble floor with a groan. Even after he fell they heard falling glass. Luhan was besides Giseok in a second, ignoring how the shards of broken glass dug into his feet and sen knees when he knelt down. "H-Hyung...?! Are you okay? I-" His hyung groaned and tried sitting up, his palms soon bleeding too. They stayed silent as they got out of the bathroom, giving each other a silent agreement that they'd leave the broken shower for the next day.
Somehow they helped each other clean the tears to their skin, still silent and without any visible emotion. It wasn't until they reached their bedroom and they were both snuggled under the covers that Luhan said something, his voice thick and low. "Hyung...What happened to us?" The older male sighed softly and shook his head just a bit. "I don't know...I just want it to stop." Luhan nodded and pressed his face into his boyfriend's chest. "I love you Giseok." "I love you too, Luhan."
Put An ‘Angst Please.’ In My Ask And I’ll Generate A Number 1-10 And See What Our Muses Get!
Number; 6; (Trigger Warning) My muse is lying on their bed, a knife in their lap and bleeding. (Trigger Warning)
"Namsoo...Namsoo.." Giseok shook his head as he ran up the stairs to the young boy's apartment, he couldn't help but mutter to himself. He was nervous he was too late, too slow up these damned stairs. He huffed as he reached the right floor. The reason for Giseok running up these stairs were a phonecall from the boy a little earlier, something about ending it, giving up. It made all the hairs on Giseok's body rise uncomfortably, so he had hurried over as fast as he could, chest now heaving as he banged on the door of Namsoo's apartment.
Like a bad horror film omen the door slowly creaked open and Giseok ran inside, he entered every room until he reached the end of the hall where Namsoo's bedroom was. He slammed the door open and stopped momentarily in his tracks, the boy was there on the bed with blood all over. Too much blood for sure, for this little body. Giseok let out a cry, Namsoo looked completely drained of blood, so white and cold as he was curled up there on the bed.
The older of the two stepped closer and got hold of the knife, tossing it aside hurriedly before he knelt beside the boy, trying to locate the source of the bleeding. It came from Namsoo's wrists, they were sliced open and the sight made Giseok feel the taste of bile in his throat. Right down to the bone, so much blood. Too much blood. He hesitated only for a second before tearing up a nearby shirt, wrapping it tightly around Namsoo's thin wrists. He did everything like he had learned during countless first aid training, it seemed oddly clear in his mind. After closing the wounds he fished out his phone and left bloody prints over the screen as he called the ambulance.
While he waited he kept pressure to the torn wrists and tried his best to talk to the unconscious boy, praying that he'd live through this. "Please..."
Put An ‘Angst Please.’ In My Ask And I’ll Generate A Number 1-10 And See What Our Muses Get!
Number; 8; My muse has poisoned themselves (accident or purposeful, up to the mun.) and become very ill while alone with your muse.
Giseok and Hojun decided to go out that night, Hojun really needed some cheering up so going out for food and drinks seemed like a good idea. However after one or twelve too many shots, Hojun's eyes could no longer focus properly. The older of the two decided that they'd call it a night, and they started at the short way to Giseok's apartment.
By the time they got there, Hojun was barely awake. Somehow Giseok got the frail boy into a bed and made sure he was comfortable, Hojun fuzzed and squirmed. On his forehead tiny droplets of sweat appeared as he became more and more antsy. The poor boys cheeks were flushed and through barely open eyes Giseok only saw the white of his eyes.
He stood and got his phone and a bucket because at the sight of it, Hojun would throw up any time now. A loud clank rang through the apartment as the empty bucket fell to the floor, Giseok dropped it as he returned to the room and saw Hojun's body writhe and contract in painful spasms. Running along his chin were chunks of the food they had eaten earlier and as Hojun was on his back it was now caught in his throat, suffocating him. Giseok ran over and tugged him into a sitting position, harshly patting his dongsaengs back to get the puke out of his mouth and throat. Hojun coughed and cried, spilling the entire content of his stomach onto the bed. After a while the cramping body once again relaxed and Giseok picked him up from the bed and carried him into the bathroom, as he turned back for a glance at the bed he saw something that looked like pills in the throw up. Giseok hadn't seen Hojun take those pills.
An hour or so later Hojun was cleaned up and dressed in a t-shirt and boxers, his dirty clothes thrown out. Giseok carried him to bed and carefully propped him on his side so if he puked, nothing would get stuck again. Then he pulled the nearby chair closer and sat watching the sleeping boy.
