#vvuyifxn

[clvrp-blog]

Wu Yifan

» Face claim Information— Name: Wu Yifan Group/Occupation: Actor

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[jukebox-rp]

Kris

IC INFORMATION: Name: Wu Yifan Group/Position: Form EXO Member Company: SM Entertainment

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[jo-ngin]

Save Me.

Death was taboo, and death was an abstract subject nearly all were afraid to approach. There was no denial, however, that as much as it was feared, it was still constructed upon a pyramid of theorems that no great anthropologist nor philosopher could formulate an equitable reason for. No organism knew what happened after one passed through the Veil, and that was where the most rooted suppositions grew. 

Jongin had never given the topic much revelation in the latter part of his twenty four years and ten months being alive - in fact, after his mother’s passing, thinking of it simply became a chore. He numbly accepted the fact that every living thing had to walk down the dreaded path one way or another, and some simply had to take it earlier. 

He just didn’t think it’d be this early for him.

Lying in the snow, broken and bloodied to the core, his Aventador a combusted pile of chrome metal just metres away, Jongin believed that Death was certainly on his way to claim him. He felt the coagulated blood oozing thickly from his split skin, and wondered how beautiful it must look, contrasted so vibrantly against the multitude of white. If he wasn’t dead in another five minutes, his sister would surely slaughter him otherwise, her desperate warnings of ‘please don’t drink and drive’ going deftly through one ear and out the other. Jinah, he mused. I’m sorry.

As terrifying, shattered breaths left his bleeding lips, his crippled senses managed to pick up the sound of rhythmically crushed snow, the sort of noise a pair of rain boots might make on a journey across a prairie of autumn leaves. Jongin was too weakened to move, and so he waited painfully, for whatever it was, to near him. A few moments later, and a figure clad in ink black stained his blurry vision.

He’s here. Death’s here.

Except when the fog cleared, and as the stranger leaned down, he was anything but Death. Jongin had never believed in angels, but upon witnessing the humanity in the storm grey orbs that met his own, all pre-existing qualms dissipated into nothingness. He was blinded.

"Stay with me," the angel murmured, warm palm brushing the vermillion liquid from Jongin’s forehead. His touch was faint, his voice timeless. "You will experience no more harm."

Aren’t I already dead? Jongin wanted to ask. But his lips produced no sound. 

The stranger, with his ashen hair almost luminous against the stark white, looked at him with a sudden compassion. It seemed he had read his mind.

"I have come to save you."

[beelmons]

✛ my muse trying to calm your muse down

Seoul is well known for being a ‘rich city’, but even then finest country has got itself some dangerous zones, where people that don’t agree with values and integrity gather in dark alleys to discuss the way they will show the goverment that they couldn’t care less about their lame-ass rules, people who has adopted violence like the universal solution to all of the problems and people whose only friends are the people they once beat up, and what’s the right hand of all the preciously mentioned types of lovable human beings? Alcohol.

Everyone likes a little alcohol, on food, on desserts, on special mixes or just dry, but everybody has consumed alcohol at least once in his life and enjoyed it, but for Wyatt, it was a way of punishing himself for what he had done to his life but he was the calm kind of drunk person, he didn't like fighting unless provocked and... guess what was just about to happen.

One random guy said to his face that he looked like his son, but it was impossible he could be his son since his son confessed to him that he was a suck-slut faggot.

—I'm pretty sure that's not the word your son referred himself to you, I'm pretty sure your son meant to tell you he was homosexual, I don't see why you would have a problem with that.

Wyatt himself was bisexual, thing that wasn't convenient to reveal to this obscure figure, but the man was so intoxicated he began to jump into conclussions,  he accused Wyatt of liking cock up his ass, wich wasn't a wrong judgement, accused him to dress his salads with cum, wich was a disgusting thought itself, and accused him of being a dress-wearing faggot that would pay two millions to get fucked by a black man, all these words were nothing important to him, the man was drunk after all, but the words he said afterwards just bioled his blood to the point even his mucles wanted to give this man an scarment: "I'll show you what sucking a cock is, just like I did with my son when he confessed such an atrocity to me, I'll show you how a real man gives dick and I'll leave you crying, that's what turned my son into a real man again and wished to never have cock inside him again!" Those were the man's words, he had raped his own son and now had Wyatt bending over the bar with his hand ready to unbuckle his seatbelt, there.. infront of everybody.

The avenger wouldn't allow that, and now his rage was such not even God would stop him from killing that hideous being. Elbow to the face, knee to the guts, foot to the ankle, the man was already on the floor after five seconds and Wyatt had already his M9 out with the barrel attached to the man's head, when suddenly an unknown foot threw it away from Wyatt's hand. The first he though was that it was some of the man's friends trying to save him but instead it was a tall, blond man that grabbed him from behind and threw it against the wall with his fist around his raincoat.

—You are a smart man.— Said the unkonwn deep voice, this guy's eyes were tenderly staring at him—This is no place to commit a crime, it will end up with most of us in prison, we don't want that, do we? 

He was right, the place was a death-like bar, but it was someone's business and they wanted to protect him, there was cameras everywhere.

—Bullshit like that asshole deserve death—

—Yes, but it's not for us to decide—

—Oh, really?— Wyatt scoffed— Who should decide then? God?—

—If you decide to kill this man today, someone else will decide you deserve to die too, proably his son, the one person you're defending will be the one to hand the knife to rip off your head.

With those words said the man let him go.

—What's your name?— Wyatt's sight was nowhere near the taller guy, but his curiosity knew no limits.

—Yifan.

—Wyatt. 

—Try counting down from three next time, Wyatt.— Yifan smirked when he was taking his coat to apparently take his leave —And I'm not talking about self control techniques, I mean your number of glasses of ron on the rocks. 

Yifan left the stablishment and just when Wyatt was about to go after him, the bartender directed to him.

—That man left this for you, sir. 

The bartender handed him the tape with the recording of the fight and a glass of white ron on the rocks. At home he saw how the tape cut itself to when the man finished the raping reclaration. Yifan, uhu? Let's see what we can find about him. 

.

[flightles-s]

vvuyifxn replied to your post:I don’t get it.

What’s the matter?

I-I'm just a little upset.. (/he frowns and fiddled with his fingers, nervously biting down on his lower lip)

[keinnej-blog]

vvuyifxn

Worst night ever. She let the party of her friend, endlessly pissed. They had started to drink way before she arrived and everyone was dead drunk by the time she arrived. She couldn't help but having her pride hurt that no one had noticed she hadn't been around and then, soon enough, the puking had started and as everyone knew, the sober one was always the one who cleaned. The night though, was well advanced, and Jennie wasn't rassured. Maybe it was the adrenaline in her blood but for once she was sure she wasn't lost. Blame the adrenaline once again, but she also thought she had heard steps.