ex-mxdaisuke-blog

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

sadly I cannot put the time into daisuke as I could before. he was one of my favorites, but I figure it’s better to free up the spot than maintain it inactively. sorry I couldn’t stick with him long as I wished to. You all were wonderful! I really liked it here, the atmosphere and creativity was great. and especially getting to interact with writers that made me feel at ease @mxminwoo, @mxsungjong, @mthkyungsoo, @xmcjoohyun, @mxkimjaewook, @mthsunggyu, @mxhaejin thank you all

wish i coulda interacted with more of you

I’ll still be around, but not here. If you want to stay in contact, just pm me.

bye guys. keep writing and creating, making mythica what it is. i started with a gif so ill end with a gif

#;ooc

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

you think there is more dark in you than there are bones. what is a monster? what is a lover? what is the name that sounds so sweet on your lips in the dying of the night? love we’ve only the light to fear. darkness always follows.

darkness and bones - k.j.c (via sunlitanymoved)

#;idée fixe

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

@mthkyungsoo

The words from whoever was speaking filtered through the stacks all the way back to Kyungsoo’s desk where he was diligently pretending the game of solitaire on his screen actually constituted as work.  The evening was waning on and while he wished it was closer to closing time, one glance at the clock in the corner just below his score of 3265 showed him that his wish was far from ever coming true.  In fact, if the brunette didn’t know any better, he’d swear the digits went back a minute just to spite him.

“An evening on criminal minds.” His lips moved along as he read the title of the get together from a piece of paper laying next to his computer to himself.  “Presented by ####.”  Kyungsoo recognized the name of the newspaper, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d ever actually picked one up.  Probably when he himself had worked as a typesetter in the late 1700′s.  Nowadays though, just like everything else, technology had taken over and there was no need for a young man of slight build to squeeze between machines and risk his fingertips.  Which, when he thought about it, really was for the best.  He liked his hands and computers weren’t the worst thing the passing of time had brought along.

The more Kyungsoo tried to ignore the soft gasps and coos of women sitting in on the seminar, the more he found himself actually zoning in and listening to the young man speaking to them.  His voice was nice and Kyungsoo wondered if the young man was from the paper or a random speaker.  If he was from the paper, obviously whoever had chosen him to speak on their behalf realized the young man would appeal to a certain demographic.  Housewives were usually the ones who ended up handling finances, and well, “He’s good looking.  I bet he gets a couple of online subscriptions for them tonight.” The faery snorted, “But good lord, is he tall enough?  That’s just not fair.  Not fair I tell you.”

Pushing his chair back, Kyungsoo closed out his solitaire game, wincing as the his bones cracked and his joints protested.  “Okay, yep.  Definitely time to make the rounds.  Rigor is setting in…”

Really, he was just using his rounds as an excuse to move closer to the gathering.  From the few words he had heard, it seemed an interesting conversation and he hoped that no one minded him giving a listen for a short bit of time.

“--simplicity and complexity co-exist. They run along the same line, really. You can take any one simple device—much like the investigations in the show. One killer. One or more victims.” His eyes glance over the crowd, lingering on the boy in back as he speaks. Not meaning to zone out on the distraction of their movement, but purposefully stressing, “—the bystander. It can be reduced to the simplest of terms, but what draws in the audience are the twists.” Not breaking for breath even as he adjusts the mic clipped to his collar and jumps down to the audience level from the stage, mouth edging on a smile when participating members murmur in wonder.

What is this guy on—?

Dunno’, but I want whatever he’s taking.

At least he’s good-looking.

Lights cut out. Then there are the gasps and concerned mumbling. Followed by the rise of voices and what’s going on’s, is this an emergency’s—?. He had already walked to the back of the room without detection, footsteps and shadowed shape obscured by the worried tones and nervous movement of everyone else. When lights flicker on again, he is standing behind someone randomly selected, closest to the exit—and a quick glance up and down nearly makes him laugh. It was the same person he’d seen remain on the perimeter of the discussion. Never quite joining, and immersed in their own task.

“The element of surprise adds fuel to the fire. No one wants to pay attention to a boring plot line,” he finally speaks, amplified voice causing the sudden hush. Lost in the crowd, people first have a difficult time noticing him, and Daisuke does not make his location obvious. “The most iconic characters are those we relate to. The most memorable stories are ones we emotionally involve ourselves in. We come together in times of emotional strife. Confusion. Wonder. Fear--we are afraid of the dark because of the danger that lies inside. The unknown.” Daisuke pauses, crossing his arms. Some people had even turned around to stare toward where they believed he was speaking.

“There is nothing to fear in the dark that is not in the daylight, and danger is often much more familiar to us than the monsters we relate it to. Much closer.” He side-steps out into the aisle finally, more off in his own thoughts as the discussion concludes with, “keep that in mind.”

Standing there for nearly a minute, shaking people’s hands and plugging the news outlet he works for, he nearly forgets the person he used as a human shield. Shit would be one word to describe his expression before he turns on his heel.

“—sorry about that. Just theatrics, you know. Once you’ve had one discussion one way, people feel like they’ve heard it all.” 

#mthkyungsoo #i forgot my tags #if i get that long again punch me in the kidney #:* #ofc you dont have to get that long. he just talks a lot

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

❝You’re made up of infinite potential.❞

[ six word story sentence starters... ]

“You’re right.” 

Of course they are. They always are. He finds comfort in assuming things for the moment, even after spending all his time questioning everything. His mind settles on this. It has to. But his head is shaking in disagreement even as his hands wrap around the mug in front of himself. He has not taken one sip since arriving at their office and his skin is not warmed against cool glass. It is a normal motion he retreats to in order to relax in these unusual circumstances.

“This double homicide–there’s no leads, no suspects. No one is questioning it when it needs to be questioned. But I’ve stopped writing about this case. I’ve stopped writing, and it’s not just this one–I can’t write,” he corrects himself, dark eyes glancing over theirs before resting on hands again. They form to fists he presses above his knees. Searching to ground himself in his words, he chooses his statements with precision and nods slowly. “I can’t write anything substantial. Nothing worth reading about, nothing I can put myself completely into or speak about with conviction. In that aspect, can you really call my potential infinite if there is no latent ability within me to free from this world’s limitation in the first place?” 

He exhales, and allows a slow smile to form on his face. Trying to forget he has not been able to sleep properly for weeks. That he checks his apartment locks even more than usual. The out of place grin shatters his momentary lapse of hesitation and he can find his usual enjoyment.

“Too serious?” He focuses on them instead, and leans back in his seat. One hand retreats to his coat pocket, thumb hovering over the record button absently. This would not be a conversation he would document to scribble into his notebooks later and lose sleep over. He has never had reason to suspect Haejin’s involvement in these deaths before and he does not now. Like everything eventually becomes, it is just a familiar motion.

#mxhaejin #you know what this reminds me of #nbc hannibal/will atmosphere is just radiating off this mess i just wrote and im fine with that #what i mean by that is daisuke's interest in the natural side of things is still not quite concrete to him #not as much as it is for haejin #but it could be. though their obsessions are similar running along the same line #those line don't cross. this is somewhat prestablished assuming daisuke met with them before about discussing medical things. mysterious wo #*mysterious wounds and deaths. as well as how they're both interested in the mythical sides of things #and haejin is like. ah. young mind yet to discover what i have #meanwhile they do really dark shit and kill people #and he's the one that investigates that type of thing #depending on how dark you wanna go or not really #anyway....... #feel free to respond however you like or not #if you read all my tags you get an award

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

six word story sentence starters pt 1

❝Blue skies come after dark nights.❞ ❝Nobody said it would be this hard.❞ ❝You’re one of my midnight thoughts.❞ ❝The nothing approaches; say my name.❞ ❝The little things are so beautiful.❞ ❝Used to tiptoe, now I’m running.❞ ❝You kept your sickness a secret.❞ ❝I’m tired of tear stained pillows.❞ ❝Pain reminds me it was real.❞ ❝Silence is the most painful answer.❞ ❝You are nothing more than memories.❞ ❝You will always be my home.❞ ❝We had different definitions of forever.❞ ❝Maybe one day everything won’t hurt.❞ ❝Complexity burns as easily as simplicity.❞ ❝Wither into me, when night comes.❞ ❝Fake smiles can’t hide sad eyes.❞ ❝Still wrapped around your goddamn finger.❞ ❝I am always last to know.❞ ❝False hope leaves the deepest scars.❞ ❝Fall leaves on wet pavement bleed.❞ ❝We’re a forever kind of thing.❞ ❝I opened up to you, you bastard.❞ ❝You’re made up of infinite potential.❞ ❝Love is the most beautiful paradox❞

#i need to get back into him? so feel free #while i work on stuff i owe from the stone ages

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

But he notices.

Their foot kicks the bullet backwards even if the shirt remains untouched next to their expensive leather shoes. He notices stillness apart from the absence of rising and falling chest when he held it in front of their nose, and the way they paused next to the smallest metal casing before reaction. It was instinctual movement rather than by choice. Innate avoidance like a cat protecting its belly from human touch.

Silver.

Daisuke slips the knife into his front pocket even if this small forming theory would mean it was useless. He does not plan to equip it in self-defense. Like they so condescendingly teased him—he does not have a death wish, and he believed they were capable of worse than just sitting across from him and being a pompous asshole.

“You’re right.” And he purposefully ignores the critical commentary. “I am interested in the occult. Discovering missing parts of a story. Again—it’s obvious enough.” Despite attempting to control his breathing, his heart rate still rapidly drums beneath his chest—they shouldn’t know that, they shouldn’t know that—he turns and pulls up a chair. What stands between them is a wooden coffee table. Pockmarked with different symbols and languages from countless times he had no paper and a rampaging thought—notes he had written from texts that seemed like pointless jargon or scribbles if the one scanning them not fluent in Spanish, Japanese, or Latin. He shouldn’t be doing this, yet he draws in a breath.

“But not just the occult. I enjoy artifacts.” He moves slowly to keep himself from shuddering, choosing an older book with a cracked binding. Feigning composure by taking control of objects to trick his mind that he has the same confidence. “These are my mother’s books. First, second, third publications.” Authentic. Not some insane radical on an ebay shopping trip. “But not just books—symbols, clothing, and jewelry.” He pulls up the silver cross from under his shirt and flashes the identical tattoo beneath his wrist. “Paranoia is part of the lifestyle. There’s nothing in the dark that’s not already in daylight—makes wanting to protect yourself at all times natural, don’t you agree?” Hand movements are quick, flipping out the blade and stabbing it between two trails of text. Switchblade tricks he learned from the wrong people at a younger age. “This knife is just part of the collection. Lined with silver. That makes a difference to some sorts of skin—or so I’ve read.”

The pause slinks between two bodies. One a threat, and one just a bluff. There is no silver in that blade. But they know his name. If they were anyone else, he would assume they knew the name attached to his journalist reputation. But this is not just anyone else. This is someone speaking of allowing him to live as a courtesy, and even though he knows he should clamp his mouth shut. Even if he knows--

“Gratitude,” and his exhale is shaky disbelief. 

Gracious is what they called it when the fire department took far too long to extinguish the flames eating at his mother’s home. Kindness is what he had been given after not being locked into a prison for false accusations. Their face is the face of his neighborhood, all wary expression and mouths full of unsaid death threats. They called his existence a privilege then, and someone who knows manipulation can adopt the guise of benevolence. 

“I don’t want it...” His head shakes side to side, gaze beyond their shoulder, beyond this room. Closed fists press to the top of his knees. “--or your twisted idea of mercy. You can keep your damn gratitude.”

//random act of kindness

in the typical fashion of those who deem themselves more important than those they’re talking too, the vampire bulldozes over the human’s protestations. his smirk is edging towards self-satisfied underneath that layer of rotten sweetness as he flouts the maxim of manner.

❝you’re an occultist of sorts—but not a very good one, mind you, though you do have a decent collection of books here, i’ll admit that. you seem to be interested in unsolved murder cases, even though that might lead to an early grave.❞ his face doesn’t give anything away—if it is a threat, he won’t outright tell the boy know. ❝you are paranoid though, judging by the amount of security on your door, so you don’t seem to have some sort of death wish.❞ easy deductions, made with simple logic. perhaps too obvious observations, as had been pointed out—but took pleasure in ignoring him, in showing it was minwoo who was in charge here. ❝and on top of it all you’re scared of me. your heart is beating faster than it should. no, you don’t want to die tonight.❞

he watches him for reach something—a weapon? a phone? as long as it’s not another gun minwoo’s not too bothered. having fed recently, he’s faster than the idiot mortal could ever dream of being; he’d be gone before he could finish a call, swift enough to avoid the swipe of a blade—strong enough to rip an arm off, healthy enough to charm him out of calling the authorities. and unless there’s more silver bullets here, minwoo is in no mortal danger. bullets are more likely to hit though, and he’d hate to bleed all over his clothes again.

clothes shopping is such a bother, sometimes.

❝of course there is—one could just leave it behind, for example.❞ even with the height difference right now—a seated natural across a standing human—he’s not too worried. holds up the pretence of politeness and implicit threats by doing so; he’s not outright threatening—none of his words could be construed as such—but there’s that underlying current of danger, and the smile on his face does little to hide it. if anything, it makes it more obvious. ❝like i did. clean, easy and simple. besides, an ‘investigator’ such as you as much more use for a bloody shirt and bullet than i do.❞

displeasure flits over his face as the bullet drops; lands dangerously near his leather shoe. there’s a barrier between his flesh and the cursed thing, but there’s still a curl of uneasy and he subtly prods the bullet with the very tip of his shoe—sends it rolling underneath the couch with satisfaction. good luck searching for that. that’s what he gets for shoving it in his face.

the vampire watches, eyes tracing every move. aren’t panicked prey most dangerous? an ostrich can take down a lion—and while he’s taking this boy for a magpie rather than an ostrich, he’s still a tiny bit wary. it can never hurt to be too wary.

the question catches him off-guard, though he huffs out a chuckle soon. he likes this bluntness, wonders if it’s part of the other’s natural personality or something the presence of something beyond human comprehension has driven him to.

❝if i wanted to take your life i’d done it last time. consider those breaths your taking a token of my gratitude, daisuke.❞

#mxminwoo #p; random act of kindness #minwoo ;rep #yikes #you know when you know more stuff than your muse so youre like...no dont do...these things.. #and off they go. doing those things

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

#;phantom noise #ill be back hopefully this wee k #hell

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

“I thought you were someone I knew.” That’s all. Even if the strain in his voice suggests an explanation longer than a defeated breath. He blames it all on unnatural hunger. “I don’t want this—“ he sets their plate down. Sitting in the chair beside them is only so he can focus on their face and forget the dead ones taunting him in this room. Everyone’s enjoyment was so loud while his own silence was eating at his mind. “The food tastes awful to me. Only me, apparently—I would just throw it up, honestly.” He has already, but clamps lips tight and shakes his head to reassure them. “No…I don’t want your food.” Daisuke presses a hand against his cramping stomach. 

They are a distraction from the whispers at his ear and the taunts running beneath his skull. But they are also a stranger, and he observes them the way he would the picture in a case file. Traveling from the tips of bright hair, over the sharp lines of their face. Down the imprints of visible tattoos coiled across their neck, same black ink peeking beneath the ends of sleeves. It was a lifestyle display he had not seen worn so casually since his days in Japan. Their hesitance was opposite to the way they appeared. One elbow comes to rest on the table. Probably to keep himself upright, but the physical signs of exhaustion he would never voice. He tilts his head and watches them for a beat or two.

“Nothing weird.” And he has always been straightforward, but never rude. “This situation is already weird enough.” Saying this is a warning only due to a previous experience with a vampire he’d rather forget about. Not ignoring the fact he had little options now and there was no use in outlining with his own conditions. Nothing else could surprise him at this point. He’s sure. “Go ahead.”

close for comfort. open

Jaejoong’s just completed a task for someone, leaving him a moment to pull a plate of food to himself to eat in favor of socializing. Its a rather backwards situation for the generally amiable warlock, stuffing his face in favor of talking to another. That just goes to remind him how wrong this entire enchantment is, particularly so when he doesn’t notice the person trying to get his attention until they’ve attempted to snatch the plate right out from under his nose. Lifting his gaze up quickly, Jaejoong raises his hands as if to fight them off, only to drop his determined expression the moment he sees their own tormented one. It makes his stomach curl in empathy, though that seems to trigger his hunger more.

Reaching his hand out slowly this time, Jaejoong silently motions for them to give the plate back. A sympathetic frown lines his features as he looks them over (while slipping another forkful into his mouth) and pats the empty space beside him for them to sit. After swallowing a mouthful, he addresses them vocally now. 

“I can ask something of you, if you need to make an exchange. Because there is something I’d like…” Raising a hand he rubs at the back of his neck a bit bashfully. “Its just a bonding exercise, I’ve wanted to try it with a stranger…” He clears his throat to keep the awkwardly shy laugh at bay, but he does make eye contact with the other feast-goer to read their answer. 

#mthjaejoong #jaejoong ;rep #hope its fine i replied

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

The (D)Evil Within

I will keep quiet You won’t even know I’m here You won’t suspect a thing You won’t see me in the mirror But I crept into your heart You can’t make me disappear

Til I make you

#;phantom noise

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

The disconnection from considering her potential reluctance is what fuels his excitement, brightens the flare of curiosity in his gaze, desperation in movements, and he is honestly stunned into a lapse of silence after the verbal shut down. Lips open, and then close before he repeats, “—you don’t…care.”

Then again, he has given her no reason to. Not everyone is thrilled at the prospect of knowledge. Some are desperate lock old skeletons in the closet and bury the key so they could forget an unsettled mind. She is a stranger he had searched out with no warning or phone call ahead (granted, he couldn’t find her phone number or anything for that matter). But then she asks him questions—rhetorical or not, he grasps at open-ended remarks.

“I don’t think you want to,” he agrees. “But you don’t know for sure about this, same as me. If you don’t want to see it, all I want is for you to hear what I have to say. That’s it.” He sets the books in the hall, and crosses his arms. Then his jacket next, off and dropped beside folders and texts. Hands drag out the pocket linings of his slacks to show he had no concealed weapons. “I want nothing from you except a few answers, Joohyun. In return, you can ask anything from me. After I ask my questions, I will never be at your door again.” But if she did not let him in, he would just come back the next day, and the next. This, he does not mention. Instead he exhales on almost a snort.

“No yogurt. Sorry to disappoint,” he easily retorts, not missing a beat. “There is a new cafe down the street, but asking to meet you there might be too forward of me. It’s not a date I want, you see. Just a few moments of your time, and you seem like a busy girl. So I can even start right here.” As if this just occurred to him now, he ahhhs under his breath and nods. “If you shut the door in my face now, it can be like a nice story in the background for you. These walls appear rather thin to me, and it may be a bit muffled but I can recite it from text while you make a nice cup of tea and ignore me. The whole story, word for word. Might get on your neighbors nerves, though. If they complained about you to the landlord, that would be unfortunate considering how you seem to dislike even just my attention. And I would truly hate to inconvenience you in any way, Bae Joohyun.”

This is just to wear her down, even a little bit. He is half-joking, but also half-serious. Daisuke waits, and only turns when a neighbor pounds on the door opposite to Joohyun’s and yells for them to shut the fuck up. His eyes again find hers.

"It’s your choice, of course.” 

Though it’s jarring, this stranger looking very much unlike one knocking down her door and asking about her by name. A reporter nonetheless, babbling on about something but the only thing she’s concerned about it how exactly he knows her. It wasn’t was if she was a well-known figure in history and more often than not she made sure she wasn’t– of course there were her mortal years and the recognition of her artistic talent, but that was a different name and it required some stretching to connect her in the first place. 

Yet here this rather persistent seeming reporter standing here with a little bit too much material for her liking. 

“I don’t care.” She mumbled, arms crossed and leaning against the door frame and trying her best to use her small form and make it apparent she isn’t keen on letting him into her home. “What makes you think I want to answer your questions? I don’t wanna see anything you got for me.” 

Ever perpetuate she didn’t move and her features didn’t soften anymore. 

She couldn’t deny her name– perhaps it would get him to leave her alone, he certainly looked like he had enough things to identify even if she denied it. And she was already much too frustrated with the night and it had barely began. 

“I am. Bae Joohyun. And I also have no interest in what you’re trying to ask. I don’t take part in surveys. Don’t care what kind of yogurt shop they put in on the corner. Shoo.” 

#xmcjoohyun #joohyun ;rep #if it one thing i am it's too lazy to make icons #i try i try! ilu

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

#;occultist #yeah but he prbably just imagining punching minwoo in the face

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

Their face joins the shadows in the room and Daisuke struggles to ignore the blaze of distortion tearing through veins. He blinks, chest rising and falling with every sharp breath. Pulsing pain on knuckles joins the wail of each sense, course of hallucinogens in each overwhelming jolt of touch, ending with a forest of fire beneath flesh against their cold skin.

Clarity is paired with the smash of his spine against the wall, wrist clamped beneath fingers and movement locked down. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated as he breathes. A struggling inhale through his nose and uneven exhale pouring from between lips.

“—m’ sorry.” It is a shaky, weak sounding regret. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The apologies continue out of his mouth, almost slurring as he is forced to again realize where he is. He has heard of LSD. Memorized the effects and seen people ride out a bad trip over hours, days even—but not this sort of high. Where faces morphed into monstrous caricatures and their presence has him on a delirious edge. “I don’t know why I—“ but he does know, and clamps teeth into his tongue. Clear-headed for the moment, but for how long? “Listen—you can hit me in the face later. Blow for a blow, alright? I wasn’t in my right mind. I…” Eyes close, and he inhales slowly. “I’m looking for someone, and I heard they hang around you. This sort of place. I wasn’t looking for you. I don’t even know who you are.” But he had been trailing them in a way. They had been half-right, and Daisuke acknowledges it now.

“I won’t do it again.” With the threat looming in the grip around a fragile bone, it becomes easier to lie to himself that he possesses any sort of the control the drug takes away. “But it’s…better,” he stresses, struggling to speak clearly. “—probably better for us both if you stay away from me right now. Rather not have my wrist broken today.” If he was not so terrified, he may have laughed. Instead eyes close, and he barely manages to remain lucid. Much less attempt a joke.

out of the furnace;

“Same place” and “following” were normally two different things. However, when those two happened to coincide more often than not, especially with two people who had never held a conversation in their lives, they tended to overlap. 

Something was definitely wrong with the other. Much as it annoyed him, Jaewook kept his hand on the man’s shoulder, gently steering him toward the corner of the room. Paper…paper…damn. He’d seen the substance before, on the tongue of young party-goers, but never up close. Some part of him wondered if he could get high off of anything other than fae blood.

The thought was quickly shaken as a hand found its way to his skin. Yes, the man was hot, but maybe it was just that the vampire was cold. Heat was something he rarely felt anymore. He tried to keep the other as upright as possible, even through the muttering and who was Asuka?

If the man had any consideration, he wouldn’t get high while stalking people. He was about to ask who this person was what he felt a fist connect with his jaw. The unexpected blow had left him no room to dodge. A low growl rumbled through the vampire’s chest as he grabbed the man’s wrist in a vice grip, slamming him into the wall.

Although his voice was soft, calm, his words held an unmistakable rage. “Do that again and I break your wrist.”

#mxkimjaewook #jaewook ;rep #p; out of the furnace

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

To break is to be sanctified, to make in the body a safe house where all your monsters get to be raucous.

Marty McConnell, from “The World’s Guide to Beginning” (via deeplystained)

#;idée fixe

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

ive been a bit slow lately. but now that midterms done im trying to get back on track. pardon my slowness. but i can (more often than here) be reached on aim @ueduh

or i can always be reached in my inbox.  welcome new kids! if you wanna plot for the event or in general just give this post a like Replies Owed to: @mxkimjaewook @mxsungjong @xmcjoohyun (2) @mxminwoo (2) um? i think the rest left Starters In progress For: @mxwheein

Plotting: @mxyeri @mthsoojung @mxhaejin @mcxjoy @byeolxmc @baekhyunxmc i dont know who else???? remind me or launch me into outer space.

this event is putting me on a feels trip where is my mind

#;ooc #tracker??? tracker #otherwise ill forget. i have the mind of an old man

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

Careful.

He may have smiled, but the starved hunger gnawing at his abdomen eats away amusement and the grin forms into an obvious grimace instead. They are the source of his apprehension, after all. But control is not in Minwoo’s hands, same as it is out of the ones he clutches into two fists. To keep himself from acting recklessly in this world, or avoid punching them in the face? He has never been violent, but he has also never been trapped in an enchanted dining hall. Forced to desire rotten food and listen to a fool.

“Right—are you done talking, then?” Tolerance was shortening the longer they spoke and he almost demands they torment someone else—games grow repetitive with the same person. There are only so many varying reactions to entertain a twisted sense of humor. They have to get bored of him at some point. Potential escape is the only consoling buffer that restrains Daisuke from immediately snapping.

“A deal...” and he exhales on a scoff. Dealing with the same demon camped in the shadows of his life—it was as dangerous as this game and he trusts them even less than irrational rules. But he fears the unknown more, and despite everything, Minwoo’s eccentric games were familiar. “Fine.” He crosses his arms and faces them. “Since a mortal like me has to be so, so horribly starved, it would only be courteous of you to let me go first, right?” Seeing them face to face, Daisuke’s jaw locks. His voice steel. “I want you to apologize for everything you put me through.” Eyes glance over the floor, and back up. “Right here, in front of everyone. You on your knees—and you have to be sincere about it. Bring a gift to me to symbolize that you mean it. I don’t care if you make it yourself, use something in this room, or find it in the forest. It doesn’t even have to be an object.. Be creative. After this long, I know you have it in you.” Rigid stature shatters his previous confidence, breath locking inside lungs. His sister’s face manifests beside Minwoo. Then follows the apperance of her torso, and bare feet. Her dress is damp and yellow flower pattern stained by muddy tracks. She lifts her head, dark curls matted and soaked. Rivulets of water crawl down her sallow cheeks and over the bruised smile-line of her neck. She grins and Daisuke turns away, muttering broke phrases in Spanish.

Shh—is her quiet whisper at his ear and wet fingertips press to his cheek. The slow drag down his skin as gradual as words.

You’ll never know the truth.

“If I don’t approve,” he shakily finishes, staring into the bottom of empty glasses, “--you don’t eat.”

a game. +daisuke

one of the glasses wobbles, then topples; minwoo catches it smoothly, fingers wrapping around the thin stem of it. it slips into the palm of his hand and he considers getting a glass of something before deciding against it—he’s safe yes, but for how long. and he prefers keeping a clear head when dealing with others—no matter how tempting it is after the visions. the fact that he’s seen familiar faces in the crowd means that there’s a charade to be kept up.

so instead he sets the glass back down with a graceful flourish, only now deigning the other worthy of a glance after showing off.. ❝you should be more careful❞ he chastises, even though there’s a curl of satisfaction at the others’ reaction. he’s finally feeling like he’s regaining a shred of control, and it’s enough to lift his spirits—for now, at least.

❝a fly?❞ he’s the very picture of uncomprehending innocence, even going as far to tap his finger to his bottom lip in thought. ❝not that i can remember. but do not worry, i doubt they allow for flies here—it seems too peaceful here for such a small annoyance.❞ there’s something sharp, shallow-laid underneath his skin as he inclines his head towards the feast out for them. ❝care to make a deal? a task for a task—that way we both get to eat something and i’ll feel less like tearing into someone’s arteries. besides, a mortal like you has to be starved after such the events of tonight, no?❞ there’s dark intent lurking underneath his words, yet to be revealed; a predator waiting for an opportunity.

#reverie:feast #minwoo ;rep

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

cheese with that wine // open

There were rules in this world. He understood rules even if he often broke them to consider answers beyond what he is told to accept. Rules of syntax, rules of etiquette, lawful guidelines, and power distance between figures of authority depending on which national line his feet crossed. Now he stands somewhere foreign, once again observing the way an outsider would. Discerning between morbid curiosity and dread is difficult to pry apart here. Even with no logical structure to this universe, he does not understand why he would even want to touch bloated and raw offerings. Decaying and rotten stench is tearing down heightened senses. He wants to vomit just as much as hands ache to devour, and steps back as someone sprints passed.

The cut under his jaw is still running. He presses his sleeve over an open wound and tears his gaze from the banquet. Ignoring how dry his tongue is now and the stabbing pain twisting a gut.. His eyes are wide as he watches a stranger.

“What the hell are you eating?”

#mx:reverie #reverie:feast #he didnt finish his path and is like why??? would you eat rotten stuff??? y'all crazy all of you

[ex-mxdaisuke-blog]

Disillusionment is not so loud. It is a quiet break up of previous beliefs that leave him shattered with silent incomprehensibility and unable to piece together so many implausible sights at once. He has always considered other explanations beyond books and scriptures, clutching his cross at night and unable to settle for the meager prayer his family saved for times of tragedy to cement their swaying faith on some sort of omniscient being. Questioning the world for him was intrinsic as breathing, even if he now struggles to keep himself from falling into mindless panic. 

What he desires is a shred of his previous life, not a sick game, trapped in the chaos of a place too bright for his eyes and the only food stretched out before him unappetizing. There are knots in his stomach not just from surviving the horrors of this night. An aching hunger he knows he has to stave. Other guests are quick to oblige the rules while he remains a quiet observer. Most were clean of the filth still staining his own clothes. But there were disarming smiles and serene chatter. Safe. This is safe.

Blame it on the paranoia they had built up in him for weeks now. Their voice is permanently etched into his mind and he retreats back on reflex, spine hitting against a table stacked with wineglasses. They rattle and swing. He grits his teeth, and exhales slowly.

“I was,” he finally answers. Fingers curl into a closed fist. “Do you ever have those moments—where you’re working on something important, and there is a small fly just buzzing around you? Irritating and tiny, irrelevant but insistent, and unaware they ruin everything.” He does not look at the source of his irritation. “That’s what I feel now.”

a game. +daisuke

hunger is a feeling foreign to the vampire. the trickle of time has corroded what memory was left of it a long time ago—thirst not so much, but food is something minwoo hasn’t really looked at ever since being turned. even for all his pretences and pleasantries, the vampire hasn’t set foot into a restaurant for as long as he can remember. he would stand out too much for him to uphold the ruse of humanity.

this feeling of wrongness attached to the hunger, combined with the unease borne of previous events, minwoo is somewhat glad to see a familiar face in the crowds bustling around at the feast. it’s somewhat laughable to him, that mortal among the sea of naturals here. there’s only a vague wonder in the back of his mind, like an afterthought, about how he’s holding up; wonders if he’s thrown more off-kilter than the vampire himself. the thought isn’t even fuelled by concern but rather how that could fit into this little game he feels like playing.

the vampire slides up to him, coming to stand by his side. there’s a hint of purposefulness in the way he gazes upon the crowd, upon the feast, his eyes never looking at the other’s face directly; he only glances from the corner of his eye. minwoo intends to be the shadow in the night, the presence hovering behind your back in dark alleyways at midnight. perhaps he should be kind for once, or find another victim to draw a favour from—but he himself is all muddled with the events of the previous hours, desperately looking for some normalcy where none is to be found. normalcy means playing cat and mouse with daisuke. and in true catlike fashion—though he enjoys likening himself to a sleek panther, a true predator, rather than a housecat—minwoo somewhat purrs the words, just quiet enough for them both to hear.

❝enjoying yourself?❞

#minwoo ;rep #[ theres actually a fly by me and im irritated #reverie:feast