𝐶𝑈𝑅𝑆𝐸𝐷 * / 𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋

I think most of you have noticed that I haven't been active. Unfortunately, so much has happened since the beginning of the year that I simply don't have the headspace for roleplaying, especially after the great loss I suffered a few days ago, which completely drained me and made it difficult to pursue one of my favorite hobbies. I don't know if I'll be back, but if I do, I sincerely hope it will be with renewed energy.

So it's perfectly okay to soft-block me.

pink hyunjin 🌸

          𝕴T  WASN'T  OFTEN  THAT  DEXTER  GOT  SPACE        crashers,  the  man  often  overlooked  because  of  his  blindness.  Between  the  cane  and  the  sunglasses,   people  just  assumed  that  they  could  invade  whatever  area  he  was  occupying   simply  because  he  couldn’t  see.  Most  of  the  time  he  got  incredibly  annoyed  by  it,   grumbling  and  snapping  until  he  was  once  again  left  alone,   but  this  time  there  was  a  voice  in  the  back  of  his  head  telling  him  to  let  it  go.  To  let  the  person  who  had  sat  down  across  from  him  at  a  cafe  table  make  themselves  comfortable.  So  after  that  brief  internal  dialogue,  which  maybe  only  lasted  about  half  a  second,  he  sat  himself  up  straighter,   broad  shoulders  blocking  whoever  it  was  that  decided  to  sit  across  from  him.

          Clocking  the  noise  behind  himself  hadn’t  exactly  been  all  that  difficult,  the   ridiculous  chatter  of  people  mentioning  a  name   he  honestly  wasn’t  paying  close  enough  attention  to  notice.  Dexter  only  relaxed  minutely  when  he  heard  the  talking  quiet  down.  Cane  moving  onto  his  lap  he  folded  it  up  carefully,   abandoning  the  thought  of  heading  home   to  instead  sit  here  and  talk  too   …   whoever  it  was.    “  You  seem  to  be  hiding  from  something.  ”     It’s  easy  to  state  the  obvious,  an   eyebrow  quirking  upwards  as  he  moves  a  hand  carefully   to  the  table.  It  takes  the  tips  of  his  fingers  bumping  into  a  glass  to  grab  onto  the  iced  coffee  he  ordered  for  himself,  thumbing  briefly  at  the  condensation.  Incredibly  carefully  he  lifts  the  glass  to  his  mouth  to  have  a  sip,  unseeing  eyes  still  trained  on  the  figure  in  front  of  himself.

          With  a  careful  hum  Dex  places  the  glass  back  down  into  the  same  spot,  expression  falling  a  bit  flat   ⸻   he  was  careful  to  make  sure  he  didn’t  look  angry  however,   putting  on  his  best  bedside  manner   back  from  when  he  was  still  attempting  to  go  to  medical  school.    “  Not  sure  what  good  a  blind  man  can  do  to  help,  but  happy  to  be  of  service  for  now.  ”

𝐼𝑇  𝐻𝐴𝐷𝑁’𝑇  𝐴𝐶𝑇𝑈𝐴𝐿𝐿𝑌  𝐵𝐸𝐸𝑁  𝐻𝐼𝑆  𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁  to  sit  down  to  a  table  where  stranger  already  was.  Not  at  all,  really,  but  once  he  was  in  the  café,  he  noticed  far  too  late  the  whispers  where  his  name  was  mentioned,  and  how  phones  were  raised  faster  than  you  could  blink  to  secretly  take  pictures.  Even  though  he  was  bundled  up  in  a  coat,  his  face  half-covered  by  a  scarf,  and  his  hat  pulled  down  far  too  low  —  perhaps  that  was  precisely  the  mistake,  since  it  did  attract  attention.

So  he  simply  sat  down  in  the  nearest  empty  chair  in  the  corner,  not  noticing  the  stranger  at  first.  Only  when  he  heard  the  voice  and  the  words  did  he  realize  it.  For  a  moment,  Ryujin  remained  silent,  looked  at  the  man  opposite  him,  and  took  him  in.  The  cane,  the  sunglasses,  and  the  way  his  posture  was  slightly  shifted. 

So  he  was  blind,  Ryujin  thought.  Or  rather,  he  realized  it.  However,  it  wasn't  something  that  bothered  him.

" Efficient? I would hardly call being locked in a box efficient. " Chishiya countered in turn. " Even in merely in the CONCEPT of faking something to the point of no longer distinguishing sides from each other. It makes one a victim to their own creation. Poetic, if you're into such things. Literature loves such themes. " It was as old as humanity itself.

Chishiya could respond ; COULD DISSECT AND EXAMINE WHAT WAS SPLAYED OUT BEFORE HIM. Instead, he waited with the feeling that Ryujin was not quite as done with his initial statement as it might sound at first. His hunch was right. But he understood the lack of a goal too well ; the endless drifting through a ceaseless fog that obscured everything. And if you see nothing, how can it drive you? IT DOESN'T. Fear might, hope might. But the fog itself inspires nothing. The lack of landmarks inspires nothing. And sometimes it ran so deep that even with landmarks, nothing was ignited.

OR PERHAPS HE WAS SIMPLY FLAWED.

" I would say tonight seems to be a daring one. " Chishiya didn't look towards the other even when he felt the gaze upon him. A mirthless smile tucked itself into the corner of his lips. " MUTUALLY SO. Entertaining a lonesome stranger in the rain on VACANT STREETS? " He gave a slow exhale, a lone note of laughter upon the act. Like the start of any action, horror, or mystery piece of media. Or true crime.

" More decaying, I would think. They're rotting bodies, no? Even as zombies their bodies still decay. Which is another gripe I have with their concept. " Chishiya remarked with a noise of discontentment. But that was not the point.

𝐸𝐹𝐹𝐼𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇…𝑃𝑂𝐸𝑇𝐼𝐶...  a  victim  of  his  own  creation.  The  words  had  sunk  uncomfortably  deep,  touching  on  things  he  usually  kept  locked  away  and  unexamined.  That  was  why  he  didn't  look  at  Chishiya,  at  least  not  immediately.  Instead,  his  gaze  drifted  to  the  ground,  watching  the  rainwater  trickle  between  the  cracks  in  the  pavement.  In  that  moment,  he  thought...  if  it  were  true,  then  who  built  the  box? 

The  city, 

fate? 

Himself? 

❝  Perhaps  that's  why  I  called  it  efficient,  ❞  he  said,  almost  thoughtful.  ❝  Not  for  the  thing  inside  the  box,  but  for  the  world  outside.  You  know...  contain  the  uncertainty,  label  it,  and  then  decide  whether  it's  alive  or  dead  without  opening  it.  It  spares  the  observer  the  responsibility.  ❞  He  exhaled  slowly,  his  breath  clouding  the  air.  Ryujin  had  been  in  the  spotlight  for  far  too  long,  constantly  watched  for  signs  of  a  breakdown  or  even  survival…  as  if  any  of  that  could  justify  what  had  happened.

 At  Chishiya's  remark  that  tonight  was  a  risky  one,  Ryujin  snorted  softly.  It  wasn't  a  real  laugh.  ❝  You're  right,  this  feels  like  the  prelude  to  something  that  won't  end  well.  ❞  His  gaze  flickered  to  the  side,  this  time  briefly  meeting  Chishiya's  eyes.  There  was  no  fear,  no,  not  really.  There  was  only  a  weary  realization.  ❝  But  maybe  that's  the  point.  If  nothing  turns  out  well  here,  at  least  the  facade  will  have  crumbled.  ❞  Fear  might  drive  you,  hope  might  drive  you  — Ryujin  was  somehow  captivated  by  this  thought,  but  why?  He  didn't  know.

Ryujin  listened  attentively  as  the  zombie  theme  unfolded,  a  slight  smirk  formed  on  his  lips.  It  wasn't  really  the  point,  but  on  some  level,  it  amused  the  idol.  Still,  he  said  nothing…  but  when  the  remark  about  the  cages  and  ghosts  was  made,  Ryujin  didn't  simply  remain  silent  or  deflected  the  question  —  it  wasn't  as  easy  as  usual.  It  struck  him  deeply,  made  his  steps  go  slower.

 Bound  even  without  knowing  why.  The  words  hit  him  hard.

@ghcstwired played: 020. jamming out to a christmas song, and inflicting the pain of holiday songs on someone else.

𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘: CHRISTMAS SCENE PROMPTS

PSYCHOLOGICAL TORTURE. Defined loosely by the idea of intentional infliction of harm and suffering while taking a no contact approach. Music was known to be used in various torture tactics, either to render one unable to sleep or simply drive them into insanity by having the same song play over and over again till it nests in the brain like an infectious parasite. It is no surprise then that people tend to have polarizing opinions on Christmas music. Some love, some loathe it - likely contributed to by the fact only a few select songs were frequently played and thus often played on repeat. Especially if they chose only one version of the song rather than remixes and covers to at least change it up a little bit.

Chishiya is inclined towards the latter. He doesn't hate the music itself. Some of them are even rather good. ( So long as it wasn't set to the cycle of torture technique. ) But they hold no warmth, no fondness or nostalgia that seems to flood through others like a fire warming the house. HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HOLIDAYS WAS COMPLICATED AT BEST. It wasn't the holiday that he hated. It was fine, a concept he understood both in purpose and why people enjoyed it.

That did not help the dark viscosity that filled in his chest when he was subjected to exposure. Naive hope, like the world stopped for happy times. Families together, laughing and making memories, couples broadcasting their affections everywhere, the INNOCENCE OF LIFE SPOTLIGHTED. There's acid on his tongue and pricks like barbed wire under his skin.

But there are some nice aspects. He likes the lights. He likes the baked goods. Ryujin discovering that fact was a dangerous tool at his advantage. ( Not in any serious nature ; Chishiya was not that food motivated. )

" Do you do this every year? " Chishiya lifts an eyebrow as he bites into the snowflake shaped sugar cookie. HE COULD IMAGINE IT. If he squinted, he could also picture a santa hat and an ugly sweater too. Though, he had a suspicion it wouldn't' necessarily look ugly so much as festive on Ryujin. " I hope you know i'm here for the cookies and not karaoke. " He didn't sing despite Ryujin's apparent love for it.

Holiday decorating . . . step one had been music for Ryujin, cookies for Chishiya. Step two ? Chishiya actually had no idea. His eyes flick over various decorations, trying to determine if there was a LOGICAL approach to this or not.

A weight lifted from Vika's shoulders, and she couldn't hide it. He is staying! Her hand had fallen on her chest all by itself. Right where her heart was beating in her chest. “It's perfectly okay. The garden does that to you. It's so full of life, you feel like you're never really alone. I should have warned you. I'm sorry!” Vika's face showed sincere apology. And yet her words held more than one might have guessed. The garden hummed and buzzed and seemed to be full of life. Which it was. But she didn't mean the insects and animals that roamed around here. If you listened closely, at least if Vika listened closely, she could hear the whispering. Not just from the plants.

“Would you like to be alone for a moment? Shall I take you back to the house? It's not so noisy inside.” She smiled timidly. “If you close the windows, you'll have a place all to yourself. No buzzing insects, no cackling geese. Maybe it would be better if you tried it and went back there instead...” Vika stopped. She had an idea. You could see it in her face. She seemed like an open book because her emotions washed over her like water over stones in a river. But just like that water, it was only the part you could see directly. “Do you like cats?” she blurted out, folding her hands in front of her chest as if to call for prayer. “I have a barn on the property. Mainly for garden tools, so you don't keep tripping over them.” She giggled. It was a clear, bright sound that immediately radiated joy. “All the strays that find their way here sleep in the barn, too. And I bet you they'd be happy if you gave them a few pats.”

𝑇𝐻𝐸  𝑊𝐴𝑌  𝑉𝐼𝐾𝐴  𝑆𝑃𝑂𝐾𝐸  𝐴𝐵𝑂𝑈𝑇  𝑇𝐻𝐸  𝐺𝐴𝑅𝐷𝐸𝑁  so  casually,  even  affectionately,  made  his  skin  tingle  slightly,  but  it  also  grounded  him.  If  she  wasn't  afraid,  then  maybe  he  didn't  need  to  be  either.  MAYBE.  His  shoulders  relaxed  a  little,  the  tension  slowly  leaving  them  instead  of  all  at  once.  Then  he  rubbed  his  thumb  across  his  palm,  as  if  trying  to  calm  himself.  ❝..You  don't  have  to  apologize...  I  guess...  I  just  wasn't  prepared,  ❞  he  said  after  a  while,  his  gaze  shifting  back  from  the  endless  greenery  before  him,  to  her.  His  eyes  seemed  more  present,  still  cautious,  but  now  also  curious.  ❝  I've  been  to  gardens  before,  but  none  were  like  this.  ❞  A  nervous,  quiet  laugh  escaped  him,  his  gaze  dipping  briefly.  ❝  This  one  feels  like  it's...  alive.  ❞  As  if  to  dismiss  his  own  words,  he  shook  his  head.  He  didn't  want  to  sound  strange,  but  he  knew  he  was.  ❝  Going  back  inside  might  help,  just  to…recover,  I  think.  ❞