styofa doing anything
wallacepolsom
blake kathryn
todays bird
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Stranger Things
No title available
Game of Thrones Daily
Janaina Medeiros
JVL
oozey mess
shark vs the universe
JBB: An Artblog!
No title available
🪼
$LAYYYTER
ojovivo
Show & Tell
Product Placement
Peter Solarz
seen from Canada
seen from Morocco
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Argentina
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Morocco
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
@xm-kai
dare: give a compliment to the next five people on the dash
Do you think compliments are party fav-- ( /sighs and presses a palm to his forehead, realizing this was one of those dares he had somehow, inevitably, impossibly signed up for and he was obligated to heed the request ) I won't guarantee these compliments will fit your standards.
truth: if yixing or luhan asked to run away with them?
( /it surprises him that this stranger even knows about the two since he’s sure he’s kept them very separate, never telling one about the other ) And? ( /a casual lilt of his brow, he tilts his head to one side and then the other ) I’m not sure what led you to believe I’m the Prince Charming type.
my love will h u r t you.
Let Me Put on a Show for You | Kai & Kyungsoo
Kyungsoo was cute.
That was pretty much everything Kai had absorbed since meeting the escort and now, with the other male's whimpering and stuttering going into one ear and out the other. The way he fumbled with the flimsy garments covering his body (which was sold off to him anyway), down to his nervous stuttering, encouraged Kai to take advantage of his humble escort even more.
"Sh, sh, shh--" he whispered, every syllable ringing quieter than death as he shushed Kyungsoo with a finger pressed to his own lips. He took that moment to sate himself full with the visage of the escort's body hidden underneath pretty packaging, all the ribbons and creases poised for him to uncover to his will. "Do you want me to treat you like an escort?" he asked in all honesty, figuring if Kyungsoo really insisted, persisted, and wanted to be treated like the scum scraped off the bottom of his shoe, he would gladly oblige. He delivered swiftly, yanking a fistful of the doe-eyed boy's hair backwards, to match the meeting point of their gaze.
"If I really wanted to treat you like a cheap, dirty escort, you'd have bruises already, and those lips would be making the most wanton sounds--" he mouthed barely loud enough for Kyungsoo to hear.
His lethal gaze fell to the sinister slope of Kyungsoo's neck and nearly felt the pulse underneath, getting quicker and quicker because of his breath curling against the smooth skin. Breathlessly, Kai slipped his fingers beneath the nagajuban hauled over his shoulder and pushed one sleeve off, then rubbed his thumb along the curve of his bicep.
"I wonder how many men have touched you before me--" now he wasn't into deflowering virgins, but there was always something unsettling about using what had already been used many, many times before. To put it crudely and metaphorically, the feeling was exactly like stepping into a public restroom. No amount of make-up could cover the filth that was underneath, but who was he to judge? Grinning toothily at how hypocritical his statement really was, his hand curled into Kyungsoo's hair slowly slipped to the side of his neck, then pulled away.
The bestial instinct in his movement, voice, and glare faded and he gestured to Kyungsoo again, this time in a slightly passive way, "Fetch me some sake."
Truth: What is your deepest, darkest secret?
( /he's perched on top of some brick wall as he contemplates this, temple falling with a dull thunk onto the leveled stone behind him ) Deepest, darkest secret? ( /a cheshire grin spreads across his lips ) You haven't specified what time this question covers; my deepest, darkest secret between one week ago and now is the girl under the floorboards.
i’m not sure if i should be seeing this
truth or dare!
in the mood to answer some questions in character? simply reblog this prompt and then be sure to go out and send to others who have done the same. truth or dare, it’s completely up to you. be sure to ask legitimate questions and give them depth! also, don’t be too trolly with the dares, that can just get messy. have fun, guys. oh, and be sure to change the link to your inbox and send out as many as you receive.
truth: who was your favorite toy sent by people trying to catch you?
I don’t have a favorite, that's disgustingly sentimental. ( /runs his tongue briefly over his teeth ) If they’re pretty, I’ll bite.
the woman in crimson
Growing up, Jongin had heard tons of urban legends about the woman in white and similar stories, all of which had to do with the distressed spirit of a female most likely in search of revenge. These spirits--as far as he knew--never played nice. Jongin was a firm believer of the supernatural but when it came to disturbed spirits, especially dead maidens in distress, he wasn't quite sure.
Now, an authority figure from Baekseol had handed him a job to do: a task that had something to do with murdering a monster terrorizing the streets. Jongin knew what was going on what with all the mutant scare and everything, but he hadn't thought a client would actually request an assassin to play the heroics, let alone handle something that wasn't quite... human. The pay was handsome and Jongin figured if he saved face with the authorities of Baekseol, he would have a repeat customer for quite a while. It was a win-win situation for him.
Once he was in Baekseol, however, the perception was slightly different. He hadn't been given much information about his target but a blurry photograph of some freakishly pale lady in colorful garments and a poorly drawn map. You would have thought the authorities would be a little more meticulous about their requests, but Jongin had forgotten the people of Baekseol still thrived like neanderthals from the Ice Ages.
He had dressed warmly for the weather this time, going out on the streets when there was practically nobody around. The roads were empty except some merchants that were still trying to make honest and risky business, but there was nothing suspicious yet about the snowy city.
"A red bean bun, please."
He stopped by a street vendor for a snack, or really for something to thaw his mouth in the subzero temperatures that blew through Baekseol. The sweet pastry was warm when he unwrapped it from its paper peeling, but Jongin barely had a chance to take his first bite before he heard someone--no, a woman--whisper 'have you seen my baby?' behind him.
don't hurt anymore
A part of him had thought--no, hoped--Hanbin would be as easy to dispose of as he had been to string along. Say a few harsh words and threaten him, he thought, would be more than enough to keep the boy running from him and he'd make sure he'd never look back, too.
But two years was difficult to erase, especially if those two years had meant something to them both and it was probably foolish for Jongin to assume Hanbin would accept and take separation in full strides. Before Hanbin could speak, he signaled for his men to drag the "lifeless" body from the warehouse, to dress her wounds, bring her home, sound the alarm, whatever needed to be done. Even if they were assassins, there was an orderly method to this madness and Jongin--however ruthless he may be--never murdered without a reason.
Hanbin didn't need to know that, though. No, knowing that would cause the whole plan to fall apart at the seams and Jongin would be back to base one.
He turned to the younger boy and stared at him, taking the precaution to look the boy in the eye to convince him under any circumstance that what he was about to say wasn't a lie. "Because I can," he answered curtly, then upped the pain factor some more, "Because you didn't."
"You knew this from day one," Jongin cocked his head and slung an arm around Hanbin's shoulder, being as crudely inappropriate as possible in this suffocating scenario, "You let yourself get strung along and now you're blaming me for doing what I've always done? Eventually, you knew it would come down to this--" It was strange how a gesture so simple as ruffling the other male's hair could feel so different in different contexts, when he was saying different things--hurtful things, "Or did you really expect a band of assassins to take you on field trips forever?"
But secretly, he had always hoped a day like this wouldn't come so soon. Two years of stalling it, of convincing himself let me just see him smile another day, of forgetting who he really was, had gotten him neck-deep in this travesty.
Now, the question of "are you going to kill me too?" lingered in the air and by all means, Jongin should have, could have, and would have, and it frustrated him that figured it was better to let him live than die. He took a seat quite casually on some dusty couch and scratched the velvet, not really attentive to the fact Hanbin was still standing there, breaking apart.
"You're too young," he said without really thinking.
don't hurt anymore
Jongin was the best at putting up facades; he had gotten far too good at pretending that somewhere along the way he had forgotten who he really was. Even now, it was effortless how he stared Hanbin down without an ounce of compassion, not because he was concerned his men would notice their great leader falter, but because he wanted Hanbin to fall for his scheme seamlessly. He had to.
Jongin was determined to use any method to make sure Hanbin was detached emotionally just as he was physically, even if that meant traumatizing the poor boy for a segment of his life, a life that Jongin saw had potential.
And he knew Hanbin couldn't do it, he knew it just as well as Hanbin did that he himself knew it. The kid was too kind for his age, and that goodness was one of the very few things Jongin still believed in that he wanted to preserve, like the offspring of some endangered bird, perhaps. Maybe the woman bound to the chair was a helpless, broken bird in Hanbin's eyes, but to Jongin, Hanbin was the bird and he was the cage. As the saying went, he couldn't let Hanbin forget how to fly while trapped in the cage, so here he was, setting him free in the most upsetting way he knew how.
"You can't?" he deadpanned as if he was disappointed--so very disappointed--and nudged Hanbin aside with his shoulder. The blade was in his hand now and Jongin thought this was the easiest part of this whole painstaking process, how he only needed to kill (not quite kill but provide the illusion of) for Hanbin to see him for what he truly was. He yanked the woman's hair back in an effort to prevent her expression from burning into Hanbin's nightmares forever and stabbed her.
There was no hesitation in his actions as he stabbed her a second time, a third time, even a fourth time into an area where he knew wouldn't cause a terrible amount of bleeding nor death, but it was gruesome enough to give the illusion that she was dead. If it had been intentional, it would have been impossible for the woman to survive four stab wounds.
"What did you expect?" he asked, pushing a bloody hand through his hair and staining the bleached locks crimson, "What did you expect from an assassin clan or me, the lord of this clan?"
Jongin inhaled the musky air deeply, a small, evil smirk staining his features, as if he had just intoxicated himself with the heavy stench of blood lingering in the air. "You've been doing little errands to fit into our plans of corruption like a good little boy, helping us in all of our evil endeavors," he chuckled, dragging the tip of his bloody blade against the concrete wall, "And all this time, you've followed me like a little lamb, calling me hyung--oh, you've made it too easy for me to use you."
With a lazy flick of his wrist, he pointed the blade of his dagger at the boy he had cherished, protected, and even... loved--for the past two years, "You don't belong here."
don't hurt anymore
Jongin had left their destination all to Hanbin's imagination when he told him they had somewhere to go. He took the younger boy to an abandoned building of sorts nestled in the midst of run-down architecture and fallen debris, several miles off any point of civilization.
"I'm going to need you to do something for me," he said, and that was simple enough. All this time--for two years, in fact--Hanbin had done his every bidding with a few to no complaints. Jongin hadn't asked him to do anything drastic or traumatizing, though--just told him occasionally to corrupt someone and he'd take care of the rest. It was in that jaded light Jongin had kept everything evil hidden from Hanbin, to present himself as this role model he wanted the naive boy to blindly follow, and now, after dirtying Hanbin's hands, Jongin thought enough was enough.
Perhaps he had grown fond of the boy, perhaps he saw something in Hanbin that he--no matter how crooked he was--didn't want to corrupt. His initial plan to keep the gifted boy around for his own selfish gains was tossed out the proverbial window and he told no one about his next (and last) plan to distance Hanbin from the clan and, most importantly, him.
They walked right through some abandoned construction lot an into an old warehouse which had probably been used for a furniture business long ago. There were still some sofas and drawers collecting dust in some rooms, the rest taken apart and thrown into a pile of scrap wood elsewhere.
When he led Hanbin into the farthest room down the corridor, two of his men were there, with a disheveled woman bound to a chair. It was obvious she had been tortured prior to being strapped from the way her skin was discolored with bruises and cuts. Her eyes were widened in terror, her cries muffled against the duct tape sealing her lips shut.
Jongin watched her struggle helplessly, almost finding it amusing how she scanned each kidnapper and shook her head frantically at Hanbin, who honestly looked like the most innocent out of the four. He drew his blade swiftly and said, without any hesitation or follow-up whatsoever, "I want you to kill her."
By now, he knew Hanbin would ask why, and if all went according to plan, he knew--out of the goodness of the kid's heart--Hanbin would be terrified of him and flee. If it all went according to plan.
"I'll do it if you won't," he said with no trepidation in his voice, handing the handle of the dagger to Hanbin, and waiting with bated breaths to see what he would do.
WHY.ARE.YOU.DOING.THIS.TO.US??????
3.6.5 → a photo a day of my ultimate bias
A young girl wearing a red cough mask hands you a brochure decorated page after page with information about the anti-mutants petition happening in all the region. "We hope you'll be there," she says, her determined gaze glinting, pinning you onto the spot, "We're going to be signing an official petition and sending it to the royals of each city, to finally bring justice upon our suffering lands. With your help, we can help end this once and for all, put those abominations in jail."
He stops in his sluggish tracks to examine the brochure slowly from front page to back, really just skimming through the array of images rather than the words—angry words—that were printed on the pages. “I suppose this could happen,” he says with really no conviction in his tone, nodding slowly. The way he leaves his statement so open-ended, so willing, leaves this girl stumped and amusingly confused. “Jail?” he laughs, “I don’t believe steel four by fives will keep acid spewers, fire breathers, earth manipulators, and people as elusive as the shadows quite in jail.”
Jongin folds the brochure in half, then another half, then another, until he can’t seem to make the piece of paper any smaller, and tucks it into the girl’s pocket—out of sight, out of mind.
"Abominations," he mutters under his breath and shoves past her, hands pushed deep into his own pockets. It baffled him, really, to see some girl handing out brochures on the eve of the apocalypse, thinking papers and spiteful words would nearly be enough to "put an end to" the hellish monsters roaming the streets.
how to save a life
( ... )
Jongin was far too exhausted to partake in this psychological gamble with Suho, to decide how far the other male could crack into the nutshell that was Jongin's entire life. He wasn't even sure why the stranger cared so much, why his death would even have the smallest impact on someone he had never met before. It didn't make sense to him.
"Preferred isn't the word," he explained with a slight frown, because he was already convinced that this nutcase of a hero thought he was suicidal or even worse--a suicidal victim. It was frustrating how the other man seemed to know so much about him--the clockworks of his mind--yet Jongin hadn't the slightest clue where to start with Suho. It was odd to be unfamiliar with an idea especially when Jongin was very bright and intellectual for his age--philosophical, even. But speak of such virtues as kindness and Jongin was lost, and perhaps that was because he had no experience with kindness. Growing up, all he had ever known was hatred and spite. There was hardly any more room in his hardened heart for something so useless as kindness, but still, at least he knew now how it felt, to receive kindness and to meet someone so kind they would carry an injured stranger into the privacy of their own home.
It probably wasn't much, but that genuine touch of kindness meant something monumental for the assassin. It was why he stayed despite his natural instinct to flee, even if it annoyed him that the kind but nosy stranger was attempting to uncover more than he ever should.
He said nothing when Suho replied with a courteous "nice to meet you," because even the slightest action of exchanging pleasantries was something Jongin normally avoided. His silence was another way of saying he didn't want their relationship to be drawn out any longer than it was needed, that he had no intention of meeting a second, third, or fourth time. But, he managed a nod, and that was still a hint of progress.
Jongin also sat up when Suho carried a thin porridge in and the smell of food, no matter how starving he was, was actually nauseating. Jongin's primary diet consisted of alcohol, alcohol, and more alcohol, so to digest something that actually had nutrition and substance was probably more of a challenge than it looked like. After saying a brief 'thanks', he picked up a spoon and fed--or tried to feed--himself the rice porridge with the hand-eye coordination of a three year old.
His hands were still badly beaten up and it was hard to keep them from shaking so much after all he had been through. After the first bite, Jongin placed the spoon down and pushed the tray away.
"I'm full, thank you."
He was far too frustrated with his own body to attempt an embarrassing second bite.
