lucky charms

maybe it’s cruel of him to treat a sleeping lucky in such a way. he already torments the poor thing when he’s awake; he should have some reprieve away from carnage– even if it’s in the depths of sleep.

he snorts at the thought, and tosses it away when lucky yelps. to carnage, he’d rather have lucky thinking of him every moment. every second of the day. he smiles at the other’s reactions, head cocking to the side as his fingers loosen. he rubs the tips of his fingers on the boy’s scalp soothingly, humming. “my sleepy lovely,” he cooes, smile a bit too twisted, wicked and mischievous on his face. “but i want you to take up. hyung is so bored.” 

he glances down at the hands tugging at his clothes, raising his brows. his lips twitch, teeth peeking out as he chuckles. his head cocks to the side, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“needy boy,” he says, shaking his head. he shifts, getting more comfortable on the bed. he moves his hand, letting it drift gently over the expanse of the other’s back. he lets his fingertips drag softly over the expanse. “you’re going to sleep the day away. where’s the fun in that?” his eyes narrow, expression sharpening. he presses his fingertips further into the younger’s back, and then drags his nails down – over the fabric, but still harsh enough to grab attention. “would you rather cuddle with hyung than play?” he inquires, curious for a moment. he’s always a little shocked when lucky plays into what he wants– but it’s usually with a bit of incentive, a bit of manipulation thrown in. lucky coming to carnage on all his own accord? that’s something in itself. 

as the hand in his hair loosens, lucky’s eyes are coaxed closed again, the boy settling into the sheets once more. he can forgive carnage for tugging his hair, when he’s being so nice, rubbing his scalp. it feels good, lucky feels like he could fall back asleep any second. “don’ wanna wake up...” he whines petulantly. if he were more awake, he’d know not to talk to carnage like that, to just listen to what he wants. but, he’s tired, and his common sense hasn’t quite woke up yet with him. being called a needy boy has a quiet whimper rumbling deep in his throat, cheeks flush with the attention.

his hands loosen as he starts to slip into unconsciousness once more, outstretched towards carnage as they let go of his clothes, and fall to lay on the bed. the drag of fingernails through his clothes has his back arching sharply, trying to escape from his touch. a shudder wracks through his body, lucky shaking under carnage’s hands as a soft cry falls from his parted, slightly swollen lips. “hyung!” he whines, a bit more awake, a bit more able to listen to what carnage has to say. “cuddle? please, want it,” he murmurs eagerly, nodding quickly when he realizes he’ll still get to lay down with the older male.

@luckyblck

the shutter clicks loudly in the silence– and briefly carnage pauses in his photo taking, head cocking to the side to observe the younger’s form for a moment. there doesn’t seem to be a change in his breathing, or a shift in his features. he waits a long moment, watching and waiting until he deems it safe, and snaps another picture, and then another. there’s just something about the helplness of the other– of lucky lost in his dreams, vulnerable and open for him to do whatever he want– something that just makes his heart twitch and thoughts that are far too impure to say pollute his head.

locking his phone, he tosses it to the side, cupping his chin in his hand as he gazes down at the boy. watches the rise and fall of his chest, the slightest twitch in his face. trails his gaze down to his throat where he swallows in his sleep. his fingers twitch at his sides. 

“lucky,” he murmurs after a moment of staring. he shifts on the bed, sitting up straighter and scooting closer to the younger. he peers down at the other, expression thoughtful and pensive as he gazes. one hand lifts, fingers carding through the other’s hair gently. “hyung’s bored.”

a lack of response causes him to narrow his eyes. his lips purse, his nails scratching in a soothing motion on the scalp of the younger. “lucky,” he tries again– and this time his fingers tighten in the tresses of his hair, tugging sharply for a moment as his voice sharpens a bit. “wake up,”

lucky doesn’t usually sleep this well. for the past year, he’s had the same recurring nightmare, day after day. there was a time where he had even refused to sleep anymore, too afraid of the dreams that plagued his sleep. he always woke screaming and thrashing, crying until he couldn’t anymore. it had taken the combined efforts of bombshell and ace to get him to sleep again, but even then, the nightmares still came if he was alone.

with bombshell and ace, he slept a little easier, becoming further dependent on them. but he needed it. he missed sleeping, missed dreaming nice things. he still doesn’t dream, but atleast with them he gets rest, rest for his body and a rest from the nightmares.

so, it’s surprising that he doesn’t get nightmares when he’s near carnage. the older male isn’t someone he feels particularly safe with, most of the time. but lucky is growing attached to him.

he wakes to a sharp pain in his scalp, immediately yelping and eyes snapping open in shock at the tug to his hair, eyes frantic until they land on carnage. they soften, only slightly, when he realizes it’s just him-- not someone trying to kill him ( although he shouldn’t put it past carnage to attempt to kill him someday, yet he does, oddly trusting ). lucky whines sleepily, head leaning towards the hand in his hair, trying to lessen the pressure there and struggling to keep his eyes open. “h-hyung... ‘m. ‘m so sleep,” he drawls, head falling slack, back to the pillow beneath his head.

                                      ⚠︎ !   ━━   ..   ..  PROCEED _ WITH _ CAUTION   ▇▇  ▇▇        <     SHE’S A TICKING TIME BOMB   //:    >     ✖︎   ✖︎     @luckyblck

it’s really fucked up that this is the first time she’s ever been able to do this for him.

bombshell remembers, but lucky doesn’t.  once, he came home smiling with an accolade from school, eyes shining and proud.  bombshell had been proud of him then, but they didn’t have the money.  she couldn’t take him to a big dinner then, even if she wanted to.  she wanted to do so much more for him then, things like take him shopping and buy him games and do all the things that normal kids could do.  

she was too focused on making sure that they had food.  that taehyung had his fees for school, that every time his backpack was “ lost” - or stolen, and wouldn’t tell her, she was never quite sure  - he had one.  she made sure he always had his study guides for the university tests.  she remembers, because jei wanted to give taehyung the life she couldn’t have.  she was giving it all to him.

so it’s really fucked up that now, when she has the money, he doesn’t remember her.  it’s really fucked up that they’re celebrating a win for his faction, which is an achievement that he probably doesn’t even want.  lucky doesn’t belong in this game, yet here he is.  

it hurts her, but she still buys the biggest spread.  it hurts her, but bombshell still wears a smile.  it hurts her, but bombshell isn’t jei anymore.  lucky doesn’t remember her anymore.  all of this is fucked up, but still, this is a celebration.

“ all of this is yours, kid.” bombshell says, and none of the bitterness of the past sours her voice.  no, with lucky, she’s always gentle.  none of the hurt back she felt back then was ever shown to him either.  “ all that training really paid off, huh?”

this isn’t the right place, but it’s the right time.  what a fucking mess.

it’s been a year. a year since he met bombshell, a year since her protection has time and time again saved his life. he owes her so much, but in a world like this he has nothing useful to give to her. lucky can’t even offer the same services in return. honestly, lucky’s not sure why she protects him anyways, when she has no obligation to do so.

lucky certainly welcomes her presence over his own cousin’s, however; she’s always been so much kinder.

before being taken, taehyung remembers struggling for food. his grandparents were growing older, retired already and the food they did have was always sparse. he often gave his meals to them instead, because they needed it more. taehyung could skip a few meals if it meant nourishing them.

he can’t recall he’s ever eaten better than he has in this game. it’s sad, that to have this he had to deal with so much suffering around him, in a place where he often thinks he’d be better of dead. and it’s all from bombshell. the thought makes him feel like such a burden. she gives and gives but never asks for anything more than for lucky to live. now she’s giving him food, paying for a meal that he could only dream of back when he was taehyung, when he only had to worry about acing exams and taking care of his grandparents.

“all of it?” he asks, like it’d be taken from him, another luxury taken from him by this awful game. lucky smiles, entranced despite how bad he feels for it. he smiles so wide, because these small moments are everything for him. there’s only a split second of hesitance before he digs in, the sight and smell overtaking his reluctance to accept the food.

“mm... i suppose. i didn’t do much, really,” he shrugs, not entirely wanting to talk about the faction win. anything done to survive, lucky usually spends hiding, or standing behind someone bigger, someone stronger that can actually protect him where he cannot. unfortunately, the victory is the reason for this meal, but he hates thinking about it.

a c e vs. … … @luckyblck

ace isn’t too sure how he ended up here.

okay well– that’s a pretty blatant lie. he knows almost exactly how he ended up here, on lucky’s couch, newsprint and papers scatter everywhere, tugging his shirt off and tossing it somewhere haphazardly. lucky sits nearby, mixing paints and whatever else is required for this kind of thing. and the reason for that being that despite all of his bravado and his stubborn, immovable responses… ace is extremely weak willed when it came to the people he cared about.

lucky was hardly an exception.

with his enthusiasm and his bright smile and that expectant look in his eyes– ace couldn’t say no. not that he particularly minded what was asked of him, though a brow did arch in question at the not odd, but spontaneous, request. ( and briefly, the thought flitted through his mind– questioning whether it had been something he absolutely did not want to do, could he have said no? … answer to be decided ). so here he is, still not entirely sure the purpose of this– not that self-conscious and not really phased by his state of half-undress either, considering he was in the gym almost half of everyday.

he leans back, getting comfortable as lucky finally makes his way over to him, palette and brush in hand. ace watches him silently as he dips his brush in, stares at the small flecks of dust floating around the top of lucky’s head as the last lights of the day streams through the blinds. “so,” he breaks the silence after clearing his throat, tone genuinely curious, “is there a reason you wanted to do this on a person instead of… you know, paper?”

lucky had been pretty excited when ace agreed to this.

he’s always trying to think of things that will make him, and the ones closer to him, happy throughout their struggle for survival. it’s so hard to find enjoyment, but with people like ace, he feels it’s rather easy. the older boy’s presence is enough to make lucky feel safe, warm. he’s grateful. without bombshell, lucky wouldn’t be alive right now, but ace definitely plays a part in that as well.

it is an odd request, lucky will admit. but it’s something more special than just... painting on a canvas. he doesn’t know how to explain it. ace has tattoos that lucky could admire all day ( although the ones forced upon them leave a bad taste in his mouth ), and he supposes he just wants to leave something on ace’s body as well, although it wouldn’t be permanent.

the younger boy smiles anyways as he gets his paints ready ( gifted to him by bombshell, a few months back ). he’s been getting pretty good at painting, if he says so himself. it’s been a good distraction from everything going on around him, that he has put quite a lot of time into it. hopefully, he can create something that ace will like.

waddling over to ace, he plops down on the couch between ace’s legs. glancing at the older boy, lucky observes the pale expanse of his bare chest with a soft blush. he’s seen ace’s chest before, during training sessions that he tags along to, but this feels much more intimate than that. lucky doesn’t really understand what he feels, though, oblivious. he perks up at the sound of ace’s voice.

“i would’ve painted on paper! but... why not? it seemed more fun and i... i wanted to do something nice for you,” he murmurs, smiling softly although still avoiding ace’s gaze by looking down to his palette and picking a color. it’s a bright, golden yellow, and lucky lathers the brush before reaching out. he hesitates, for just a moment. “it might be cold,” he warns quietly, before the soft bristles meet skin.

@luckyblck​

carnage has a hard time believe in the concept of luck.

lady luck? she’s a cold, frigid bitch who’s never been kind to him; always putting him in some sort of situation– always in some sort of circumstance that requires more attention and effort he’d like to put forward. perhaps people could argue that luck is the reason carnage is still here today; that it’s the reason why he was chosen, while all his decisions and actions in the past worked out so well for him. carnage doesn’t like to pass it off as that; he’d rather give credit to his own brain and wit. luck is just a fragile excuse he doesn’t believe in.

and yet here lucky is, hitting score after score on the dart board. it’s weird, for someone claims they’re not very good at the sport. carnage watches with barely concealed curiosity and building frustration. 

“lucky,” he says slowly, fingernail scratching at the side of the dart clutched in his hand as he stares at the younger for a long moment. his voice is low, drawn out and thoughtful. “are you hustling me? do you really know how to play? because i’ll be very upset if you’ve been lying to me this entire time.” the tone of his voice is borderline playful, lips quirking into a small, amused smile. 

one eye closes, attention moving to the dart board. he aims, makes the notion of throwing once, twice– and then tosses. it hits the board, a little off center, and lets out a small noise of discontent. “i’m beginning to believe you play this game a lot more than you’re saying.”

lucky has a very optimistic outlook on most things. his survival? not so much ( he’s really not sure how he’s survived this long, but that’s another story ). but he’s optimistic that a certain someone has the potential to be good. better. better than he is now. that’s really the main reason he’s here with carnage, forced into the older male’s home because really. it’s impossible to deny carnage’s demands.

in all honesty, he’s terrified of carnage, but that urge to draw out whatever goodness in him he has is overpowering ( too bad he doesn’t realize there isn’t any ).

carnage has a full, very real dart board in his home and lucky isn’t sure what to think of it. the cerulean child isn’t really fond of games like this. they’re scary-- potentially dangerous, and lucky doesn’t like danger. just holding the dart in his hand leaves him with an uneasy feeling, but carnage insisted.

so, he throws.

and with a little bit of luck, he lands the darts in the dead center of the target.

it doesn’t seem like he can miss as he continues to throw, landing in the same spot each time. he’s really never touched a dart before-- he’s not sure where it’s coming from, honestly. yet, the more he hits the center, the more irritated it seems to make carnage. he flinches at the sound of his name, turning his head to look at said male with wide eyes. “no.. no! ‘m not lying, i’ve never-- i don’t really know what i’m doing?”

it’s a lousy excuse, but it’s true. he doesn’t know what guides his hand to keep doing this well. it was fun at first, the boy grinning and giggling in triumph at landing the dar in the center on his first try, but now he’s almost afraid of what carnage is going to do if this continues.

he’s trying to miss at this point, he swears. but it’s almost like he can’t miss.

admin algaea actually had this drafted for the longest time and is releasing them right now as she comes back in a few days. remember the rule that if you reblog it from someone else, send them one back! 

“we need help.”

“you’re gonna be okay.”

“be careful.”

“i am the romantic type.”

“don’t leave me to turn.”

“it’s called luck—and it’s gonna run out.”

“are you still breathing?”

“we’re shitty people.”

“are you flirting with me?”

“what’s holding you back?”

“i’m not comfortable with this conversation.”

“will you /ever/ be comfortable with this conversation?”

“it’s not that easy, you know.”

“our luck had to run out sooner or later.”

“don’t touch me.”

“just fucking go.”

“does it sound like i know how to whistle?”

“i’m a pretty good shot with that thing.”

“let’s get the hell outta here.”

“goddammit—i’m clean!”

the gym is pretty empty at this time, which is the main reason ace always picks this time to go.

he’s completed most of his workout routine and worked up enough of a sweat that it can be noticed even with his black tank top, overgrown hair easily brushed out of his face because of the way the sweat mats it together. 

he’s cooling down on one of the fitness mats, earbuds plugged in and blasting some rock song. all of a sudden something flashes in his eyes and lightning reflexes allow his arms to shoot up to deflect what feels like hard rubber. incredulous, he glance behind him to see a large exercise boll bouncing away.

“who the fuck–” he growls as he gets to his feet and without a second thought, and before he even sees who had the nerve to kick a fucking yoga ball of all things at the resident grouch of the condominium– he’s on his feet and running after the perpetrator, his phone and earphones tumbling out of his pocket.

he corners the other in the hall with almost too much ease, running in front of the guy and slamming a hand on the wall, the other following soon after on the other side so that there was no escape. “you better say your fucking pray– oh–” he blinks when he finally sees who it is, all anger evaporating just like that as the tension in his body subsides.

“it’s you,” he laughs, before a suspicious look appears on his face– though not malicious in any form. it’s almost playful, in fact. 

“…i’m assuming you didn’t mean to hit me– right, lucky? because if you did,” he leans forward, a sweet smile gracing his features, and he continues in an uncharacteristic sing-song tone, “you might be in trouble.”

lucky had been interested in coming along to the gym with ace, wanting to see how he trained and maybe train alongside him. he really tried to keep up with ace, he did, but ten minutes into the session he’d been distracted, wandering off to let ace do his thing without lucky being a nuisance when he falls over after every stretch pose, or flops onto the floor panting while ace is ready to continue.

chase brings him here often to teach him things and help him be more fit, and lucky really appreciates it since he does need the training, but he also just knows it’s useless. he’s not made for this. he’ll let chase train him but he knows it’s not going to mean too much.

wandering away from ace, lucky searches for something to do and finds an exercise ball, lighting up at his find with a small smile as he pulls it out to bounce it around. it keeps him entertained until he decides to kick it around, accidentally kicking it too hard and sending it flying. right in ace’s direction. lucky goes still as ace immediately deflects it before stifling a laughter and running like his life depends on it as ace hunts him down faster than he’s ever seen the older run before.

lucky isn’t very fast though, and he’s full on giggling when ace cages him in against the wall, shrinking down slightly as he looks up at him and sees the anger in his eyes just vanish, and turn into something softer that lucky doesn’t fully understand. “n-no! i didn’t mean to, really hyung!” his laughter doesn’t really help him make his case, fingers reaching out to clutch ace’s tank top just for something to hold onto. “i promise, hyung, i didn’t do it on purpose. it just... it just slipped away from me! the way you knocked it out of the way was really cool though!”

featuring: @luckyblck dated: first night after the initiation location: section 5 

he paces back and forth in his room, unable to shut his eyes and find enough peace to fall asleep. it’s already late into the night and the condominiums long fell completely silent, leaving chase with the uneasy feeling that he’s completely alone. the world is asleep yet his mind is restless, going through multiple thoughts at once. none of them positive. none of them hopeful.

he still can’t understand how he got himself in this situation. taehyung and him never sought trouble. one was busy working hard in school while the other practiced his sport relentlessly. who would want to hurt them? especially the younger, chase thinks. he’s the kindest, most innocent person he’s ever known, who would never hurt a fly. the idea of tae being thrown into a sick game like this makes his stomach turn.

he doesn’t accept it. he won’t accept it.

he comes to the conclusion that they need to escape, although he doesn’t quite know how. no one seems ready to help; they all go about their own business without a care in the world. will that be him in a few months? a few years even? he hopes he’ll gain his freedom before.

chase sits on his bed, face buried in his hands as he sighs deeply. he stays in this position for a little while, until a very soft, barely audible knock alerts him. someone’s at the door.

“t-,” chase begins, catching his mistake before it slips out. “lucky.” the word comes out bitterly, but he softens up the second his eyes meet with the teenager’s. “you shouldn’t have come… we don’t know these people, they could be dangerous.” he’s referring to the other candidates, whom he only briefly came across earlier today.

sleep was never hard to come by for taehyung. the boy used to be able to fall asleep on any surface within a minute of putting his head down. after the initiation though, lucky has never had more trouble sleeping in his entire life. his mind is plagued with the images of him pulling that trigger, even if by accident.

murderer.

lucky whimpers, clutching his pillow tightly as he curls up on his bed. the sheets were stark white unlike his baby blue ones from back home. they were not soft and inviting like his bed from home. they do not feel safe and warm. a few tears slip, caught in the fabric of the pillowcase as he shoves his face into it. is this really how he’s going to live now? he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. why would someone do this? what’s the point?

his sobs go unheard, muffled into his pillow, until exhaustion followed by sleep finally pull him under.

IF YOU DON’T STAND FOR SOMETHING …   @luckyblck                             y o u ’ l l   f a l l   f o r   a n y t h i n g .

she likes to think she has grown a thick skin.  a sort of defense against the world that bombshell lives in now, able to withstand the blast of a bomb or the slice of an insult.  she wants to be the one who throws it back with knives in her words; an ever constant rage boiling somewhere in the pit of her stomach.  and maybe that’s the problem.

maybe that’s what the collective saw.  maybe they just wanted to break her.

it’s a normal day, normal enough in the life of a caged rat waiting for the next disaster of an experiment to go awry.  training is dull and life is lifeless, the hard look in her eye and the set to her jaw something that’s grown far too natural for her to lose it.  she wasn’t like this before, but bombshell has almost forgotten what she was like before.  in three years of a life like this, it’s hard not to forget kim minji.

until, that is, kim minji is dredged up from the lake, bloated body and drowned.  bombshell can’t breathe; the set to her jaw is lost and this is wrong, this moment is wrong.  for a minute, she thinks she’s dreaming: surely the face that appears in front of her now, meek like the mouse he is … couldn’t be here in the game.  he is not the boy that she remembers, but at the same time, he is.

kim taehyung shows up in front of her just like this, and the kim minji inside of bombshell falls to her knees to weep.  bombshell just feels like she’s been punched in the gut.  she knows better than to call him out by name, knows all too well that even if she did, he wouldn’t remember - her.  she barely remembers her.  “ newbie … what’s your name?” her voice is tight when she speaks and this is so unlike bombshell - her eyes dart around and arms cross defensively in front of her to at least give off the impression of an attitude.  “ you look lost.”

kim minji inside her is a bloated corpse drowned by the lake of her own tears, just by seeing her little brother here. ashes to ashes, we all fall down.

it’s only been a few days and lucky is downright terrified. there is no difference between the kim taehyung he knows and lucky, the new persona he’s been given. they are one in the same, lucky still shaking just as taehyung would in this situation. he’s been on high alert ever since his initiation, just barely managing to stay sane since day one.

he’s lucky he has mark-- no, chase with him. without the older, he’d probably be dead by now. though it’s out of sheer luck that he’s still alive, too.

lucky flinches in surprise when he’s talked to, not even noticing the woman standing in his way ( nor remembering who she even is ). his hands clutch at his upper arms protectively, squeezing in an attempt to stop his shaking. his posture shows only fear, lucky’s eyes looking to the ground to avoid the gaze of the woman in front of him. it’s submissive, the way he holds himself.

“ta-- l-lucky. my name is lucky,” he murmurs softly, fixing his slip up and absolutely failing to put any sort of strength in his words. he can’t show weakness, but every encounter with another person in this game has him wanting to burst into tears. “i guess i’m a little l-lost...” the boy lifts his head only slightly to look at her, eyes wide and shining with the desire to break down into tears.

if only he remembered her, his sister that has only tried to protect him and give him the best life she could before she disappeared, and any trace of her was wiped clean from his mind.