DEAR READER
Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies
Love Begins
pixel skylines
★
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
noise dept.
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Discoholic 🪩
Keni
we're not kids anymore.
Kaledo Art
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
seen from Netherlands
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Denmark
@ofkngs
from the blood of the crown . . .
//: god, he murmured to her, i will become a god. and she dove into the underworld to search for another batch of lost souls.
despotic adj. of or typical of someone with absolute power; tyrannical.
[18+] oc multimuse. cult. gang. tw. Interested? Learn more here.
jump in and send me a meme. low activity. indefinite semi haitus.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
This blog is officially closed. You can find me on Discord. dm for it.
its a shameless whistle that leaves full tiers , a sign of mischief up ahead . emerald eyes giving a slow once glance over at the frame she knows all too well now — yukwon, her beloved. “ quick , someone call the cops. this man right here is thief ! he’s guilt of stealing my heart and being a handsome devil .” a hand clenched above her left breast as she exhaled out loudly, an expression filled with playfulness. “ oh the pain but you know a kiss would probably ease the pain of having my heart stolen.” it was cheesy even for her but there was no sign of shame in her antics anywhere noted . instead there was only a prideful grin upon her lips as brows wiggled at him.
Reduced to nothing more than what feels like a domestic houseboyfriend (though that wasn't true in the least bit), he's scrubbing away at a few dishes that have been caked with bacteria for days. He knew he should have bought better sponges, but he didn't want to take the leap to grab the more expensive scrub mommy 4-pack. It was his regrets that started piling up along with it. The deep sigh about to be breathed out of his throat was replaced with a very confused 'huh?' The whistle caught him off guard as he turned his head to stare at his girlfriend, who seemed to really love to surprise him. Yukwon rolls his eyes with a half grin and pulls the gloves off his hands to wash them briefly. "Well, I guessss if that's what you really want." With his hands dripping, he rushed forward before she could escape him and planted his sopping wet hands on her cheeks. The kiss felt dry in comparison, but he made sure she could really feel his love for her. "Are you eased? You look eased." he couldn't help but laugh. @pcstilnt
There was a resounding silence on the other line.
Thankful for falling on his voicemail, yet her sense of security crippled the moment she heard the dreadful tone. What was there to say in a condensed manner? What was there to mention that would be impactful enough to be excused—oh, even if he was not to forgive her from her unpredicted disappearance act, she would understand.
He was only one ringtone away. Yet, she only let the thoughts of him trailed off her mind.
A hitched breath left her thin lips, exhaustion evident from the sound alone. Though she mustered the courage to speak, in her usual velvety chirpy tone.
“Hey, I don’t know if my message will reach out. Maybe you have changed phone numbers?” She laughed. Even in moments of deep remorse, she would find a way to tease a little. To lighten the atmosphere, she hoped. “I... Hm, well...” A brief pause to recollect herself. “I...”
There was so little time to say everything all at once. Not enough words to express in a concise manner. Improper countenance also did not help either. Was it even the brightest idea to call at the wee hours of the morning?
“I hope you are doing well.” Though sincere, renouncement made its way near the end of her sentence. Hopefully, what little she could tell would reach him eventually.
Seoah checked the time and smiled a little. She should sleep. She hoped he already was on his side.
“Sweet dreams.”
Yukwon wakes to the sun beaming in through his blinds. It's a reminder that those curtains he had bought were still sitting in the packaging somewhere on his living room floor. A sharp inhale through the nose, and he's shifting onto his stomach with his face planted into the white fluffy sheets. It smelled simultaneously like cologne and laundry detergent. Groaning was the only form of communication he had in him this morning as he reached for his phone. Pat. Pat. Pat. Where'd it go? Several more seconds passed, and he was forced to lift his head just enough to peek with a blurry eye. He'd forgotten that he had left the damn thing in the other room. It was probably dead by now. The battery was pretty shot. Another groan, and it takes him at least another half hour before finding the strength to get up off his bed and begrudgingly start his day. A slow brush of his teeth, and his eyes were the lightest they've ever been. He could almost see a shimmer in them if he stared long enough. The long markings on his back had stopped itching in the meantime. Once he'd finished, he'd search for his phone. It was sitting on the floor beside his guitar. Just where he left it. He picks it up, thinking it was already dead; however, the screen lights up as he touches it. There wasn't much battery power left, but there was a voicemail. It wasn't exactly a number he recognized, yet as soon as he heard her voice, he immediately scrambled around his living room as if the world couldn't shut up long enough for him to listen to it clearly. "Seoah....", he whispers with his eyes scanning the wooden floors like he was searching for something he can't see. He was on his 4th listen when the phone died on him, and now he's staring at a black screen. A black reflection. His eyes shimmer. Where was she now? @kkotseo
"Humanity. I took it for granted." - Seungjun.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
As it almost always happens, she finds herself alone. And, as per usual, she finds herself alone because of a mere habit, a whim. It is much too blatant that the confines of her cozy space is something she most definitely yearns for at any given time of the day, but so it happens that today she would've done anything to get home sooner.
By definition, a birthday is supposed to be a joyous moment in one's life. To her, though she had relished the company and the cacophony it brought for a short while, it equated trouble and fatigue. Thus, after having performed the expected role of the birthday girl, displaying many saccharine smiles and bowing down to her knees so often that her back hurt, the woman found the courage to bail, forsaking the scene of the crime.
Thus, she finds herself alone. But yearning a celebration that is hers and hers only. And for that, she has a cure.
Bottle of vodka and glass in one hand and the side of her lengthy dress in the other, Taeyeon stomps her feet almost spitefully against the stairs leading towards the rooftop. Carelessly, she flings the door open and inhales sharply once the chill hits her. It is supposed to be spring.
The dark coat on her shoulders flies with the breeze and tangles with the brightly colored fabric of her gown. Her hair splays on her face in complete disarray.
The black of her eyes follows a trail north and a sigh escapes her lips once they catch sight of the buzzing stars spilled all over the ink of the night. A genuine curl of her lips. Now that's a proper birthday
The stars are bright- seemingly, for her.
And in a matter of seconds, as she focuses her gaze back on the cold glass in her hands, she catches a glimpse of something that doesn't belong in her picture perfect jubilation. The stars fall off the edge of the world and so does the bottle in her hand. While rushing towards the crouched, shriveling figure, Taeyeon barely registers the fact that no breaking sound comes from the glass hitting the concrete.
A huff.
Apparently, the day might end in a lucky undertone. Not taking into account the man in distress on her rooftop, at night.
Without any regard for her safety or social conduct, pushing past dismay and tremor, she closes the distance and cups the man's face into her cold hands.
"A-are you hurt?" Adrenaline speaks for her with an uneven tone.
It's dark outside, but the stars are bright.
It aids her understand. And understand she does, when she feels the dampness between her fingers.
“Hyuna?”
Yukwon peers up at the woman whose hands feel comparatively much warmer than him. His head keeps slugging forward as if trying to hold off sleep while simultaneously attempting to recognize the face staring back at him. It wouldn’t take before he passed out for a few seconds and when he woke up it was with a heavy gasp. He’s hyperventilating with his eyes shaking and looking around at his surroundings.
“Where am I?” was the first thing he said, his face still trapped between her palms. His eyes widen when he realizes that he doesn’t know the woman in front of him but she has her hands on his face. “N-no. No. No. No.” Every ‘no’ passes his lips like a panicked breath as he tries to pull away from her. His eyes well with tears that slip passed the round of his cheek to the straight edge of his jaw. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Please.” He’s crying now knowing fairly well that his blood was a blue shimmer on her hands and he’d pray to her beliefs that she didn’t have a cut on her fingers. That’s when he notices that unbroken bottle of alcohol further away and he forces himself up off the ground to reach for it. His legs were barely cooperating when he grabbed it and returned to her. He was quick with the way he opened the bottle and forced her palms open. He pours the liquid on her hands and watches as the blue drains from her hands. His head was starting to spin and his stomach was churning. He slumps to his knees with a place of the bottle down beside him before puking over the edge of the roof.
NONE OF THIS SHIT IS REAL. right? it couldn't be, not with the way that her body is feeling, like, hers and not. rue can't tell you what she's drank in the last few hours, or the drugs she's taken. maybe lines and pills and pills and lines, or bottles of things that go down, meant to inevitably come right back up. or was that last night? or the night before? in a way, she ought to be feeling badly about it... she's kind of just dragged yukwon into the insanity of her life, just by like... needing a charge on her phone. and maybe he makes a song out of this, all the sorrow, the loss... the pain of not knowing how to let go of the things that you really loved, and treasured, with all of your heart. there's an art to it, rue thinks... to moving on. to growing up. part of her hopes that maybe she'll get that one day. the other just thinks... maybe she won't make it. she meant it that night in the diner, with ali. telling him that she wasn't planning on sticking around, not after looking at the way the world was just so fucking ugly on both the inside, and the out.
how she's reminded of that in the run because, like, nobody seemed to care as they weaved through that crowd, claustrophobic and strobing with light. out here, the air burns crisp within her lungs, fizzling as she's trying to let everything catch up and whiplash itself within her skinny frame. it's supposed to be cold, she thinks... but everything in her is burning hot, from the run, from that club, from the way that she's still just like, NOT HERE because in her mind, she's still looking at that glass on the floor, the blood on the sink, anything but the boy on the floor. what was his name again? rue can't say she remembers how she even like, got there... it's just supposed to be a chill night, right? how she's trying to check out if he's okay, but yukwon's just... he's yelling and he's yelling and she's like startled by it all because it's not supposed to be like this because he's the one who's hurting, so why is he asking to look at her hands right now, and just -
the fumbling, the anxiety, the noise, all of it comes crashing right into her high, from both the drugs she's meant to take, and not. and almost whimpers, pulling away to like, find something sturdy in her but he's got her fast, and his phone is out and he's trying to wipe at her hands as if something's wrong but rue's staring down and they don't even feel like hers. she's somewhere else, isn't she? floating away. because he drops her hands, his shirt staining rust-like from what he's cleaned off, and like, WAIT, when did that get there? ooooohhh... tongue left to slice between her lips, that worry, that wonder, it's thumping alive against the inside of her skull, it's going to split her apart. is he angry with her? what's she going to explain? how she got there ( she doesn't know ), how much she took ( a mystery, really ) or even just like, where did she get it all from ( stolen, from one of his friends' medicine cabinets, and she couldn't read the label )?
how mad he reads. it's like NATE FUCKING JACOBS or some shit like that, minus the violence that typically followed, he's closer, and, that hand is there and she isn't sure what he wants with it, left blinking, wide eyed. a breath drawn in like life itself, and like pinocchio, she remembers how to reanimate the parts of her that aren't simply dragged through on chemical highs. that shit's burning off anyways. yukwon crouching closer to the ground, the cement left slick wet from what must have been rain, rue moving in closer, a cautious animal. but he's up, he's coming towards her before she's able to think about it, all jolting, jagged action that leaves her clutching to a jean jacket, as if bewildered, before rue's like... oh... right. her shirt, all colourfully made out in graphic patterns split open, revealing more lace then she ought to be showing, right? bothered as she's suddenly pulling it on and buttoning it up, like, oops, she shouldn't be... fuck... fuck. "you okay?" her voice sounds alien, strangled around the smoke and the alcohol from that place. "it's okay... i'm okay... are you though??? your... your hand..." the way it had made that sickening connection with someone's face, again, again, until she's like- until she just can't look anymore.
- @ofkngs
The question rings but he doesn’t answer - not right away. He was concerned. He was afraid. He was stupid. This was so stupid. If he hadn’t just reacted with blind violence they wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe, it would have been better if he hadn’t gone there at all. What were the plans he had today? He placed a hand on his forehead to think back on it and it wasn’t as if he was under the influence of anything in particular. No, this was a brain fog that comes and goes that’s gotten worse over the years. At first, it was just the past but now it seems like he can barely remember what he did in the morning. Sometimes he doesn’t even remember what he did within the last two hours and he wonders – every day he wonders if his time on earth was ending soon. The thought sends a chill through his body and results in his shutting his eyes tight with a grip on his shirt. The fabric feels foreign and he shakes his head. “Yeah, I dunno.” A defeat sigh. “I don’t–” another shake of his head. “My hand is fine.”
With an inhale, and a quick exhale afterward he turned his head to look at her: Rue, who stood there in an oversized jean jacket that didn’t belong to her. The gaze he gives her is a mixture of an apology and faint yearning. They didn’t know enough about each other but he knew that would be okay. That he should be okay with that. He should be okay with the idea - the thought - the notion - THE REALITY that his relationship with Rue wasn’t real. It’s like she appears during times when life sucked so fucking much and Rue feels like running away. Rue feels like an escape. She’s not real. She’s as much of a ghost as he was but tonight... Tonight she felt real and that’s scary. The thought that he might have hurt her with the blood that he keeps inside of himself. A blue shimmer. He’s poison and she’s a real person now. She’s drugged out of her mind and how can he explain that he wasn’t real like she was real in that oversized jacket that didn’t belong to her?
His eyes fall to his knuckles with a lowered gaze he sees the skin is raised but he can’t tell if he has bled. At this point, if the person he attacked earlier ended up dead in a few months, it would be either his fault or the drugs. “My legs… feel like jello.” Yukwon tries to make light of his situation and brushes his clean hand through the dark tresses of dark hair and his smile is so small that it is barely there. “C’mon.” A head tilt in the direction of the end of the alleyway and he’d drag his feet to the nearest convenience store in hopes that when they got there and stood under fluorescents he could see that he hadn’t done anything wrong. “I’m sorry.” He says with a brief head turn in her direction as they walk. “I didn’t– I don’t know… Why I–” His lips pursed and he swallows his jumbled explanation. “Just.. sorry.” --- @redemptioninterlude
u-kwon ig update: 😲 Apr 27, 2023
"you can't be here," thick and putrid , its words are outlined in black.
it's envious of the starlight that splashes across the concrete. and when it inhales it swallows everything , greedy but languid in its being.
it just gulps and bellows around you little star, it knows it will envelope you too.
but everything worth something means nothing once all the light goes out.
it says it likes to suffocate its victims.
every person or thing knows everything that there is to know, but still, it is sneaky when it eats .
and well, the taste of existence becomes like a fever that clings desperately to it, after all they are one and the same.
destructive. lazy. intense.
it wants to hug you.
instead it seeps into the fiber of what makes you real.
but its the unsettling pleasure it gets to run right through you. it gets a longing for your tears that cascade seamlessly inside it.
"give in," gasoline trickles , then floods out a lead pipe. it threatens to burn you for being so bright.
"star."
and so he did.
--- fin.
realism, ft. yukwon & rue
–– con't from here
I'M NOT. I'M REALLY REALLY NOT. This was the type of convincing that felt like grasping at strings and not having the strength to hold on because they were too thin to hold. She had to believe him, right? If he stared at her long enough she’d understand that the reason for his actions wasn’t because he was jealous but because … he was jealous. It’s not every day, no. It’s not all the time that he feels this sense of jealousy - no, never, almost; Almost never but sometimes, sometimes, it’s like snapping pasta in half. It’s effortless and it’s not like he knows who he actual is most days but today he was supposed to be something. He had plans and ideas and that seemed more out of reach now than the body on the ground that was starting to move. This wasn’t right. This didn’t feel right. If he stared at her long enough maybe she’d know why it felt so wrong? Her hand is in his. She was an escape. She was in danger.
RUE, LET GO There are so many people but all he can see is their hands. Their hands clasped together through this maze of sweat and disconnection. He knows what it means to be dead but to be among the undead felt surreal. This mass of people worried about nothing but the shit in their pockets and when they’d meet god again because it felt like heaven was close. They might as well have been phantoms among phantoms but their hand was hot in his. There was blood. The blood. It’s touching her. Was it his? It’s too dark. He can’t tell. Was it his? Was it theirs? It’s not hers. He was starting to hyperventilate. Hyperfocused. He can’t tell. He’s praying to a God - their God? - that it wasn’t his because if it was he’d lose his shit. He was stumbling and she was pulling. If this was the last time he’d see her again, it couldn’t be his fault. Not like this.
The concrete under his feet feels harder than usual. She coughs and he feels like his world is starting to become unbearable. Regret. The way his hand falls out of hers felt slow and he doesn’t exactly know just how far they’ve made it. He’s staring again - at her, at his hand, at hers. “Gimme your hand.”, it was a whisper with the seconds ticking away in what felt like an hour for the second tick and then it was fast. He was fast. He rips his wrist away from her grasp until he’s holding onto her hand. “Gimme your hand!” He’s yelling but he doesn’t realize it because he’s digging into his pocket for his phone to turn the flashlight on. The lights in the alleyway felt more like a suggestion than something he could use to see. He still can’t seem to see properly. The color of the blood was just dark. Yukwon grits his teeth and starts rubbing the blood off her with his shirt. He drags her hand across his chest and stomach until he’s pulling at his shirt to wipe at her palms and between her fingers. “Fuck, Rue! Fuck!”
In frustration, he stops and walks a few paces away from her with a hand over his mouth. He could smell the blood on it and when he looked he just seemed to get angrier. He hovers his hands over her like he wants to console her? Console himself? Hesitation. No. He walks away again with his hands up in the air until he’s on the ground. He crouches with his face in his hands. These hands. These fucking hands. He stays in this position with a heavy mental load because he couldn’t be the reason if she– “Okay, let’s go.” He just needed to find out if his blood was on her. If he could just find out then he’d go back to being jealous. That seemed so much easier than this. Yukwon walks by her but stops and backtracks to give her the jean jacket he had over his hoodie. “Your shirt.” He looked - of course he did, but he turned away.
––– @redemptioninterlude
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
❝ Silence is as deep as eternity, speech a shallow as time. ❞
There was a long silence as Seungjun stared at the vampire reciting words that seemed to be taken straight out of a novel. Within the silence, he slowly raises a brow as if waiting for the rest of this so-called poetry but when nothing comes about it, he shakes his head. "Noah, fuck off." Another bout of silence before it breaks with the sound of his low growled laughter. "Nothing about that really struck me as profound, but maybe, just maybe -- I'm just not adept to the genius art that is poetic--" A hand raising a twirling as if trying to catch the word he was looking for, "-- whatever." A cigarette is lit and brought to the forefront of his mouth to inhale smoke. Perhaps, his eyes were a little more thoughtful than his words as he exhaled. He'd think on it.
well.. she's married to.. the muffin man #bahaha ur welcome 😚
That's a controversy.
Nightly Ritual
[ YUKWON ] : OUR PROTAGONIST FINDS HIMSELF BATTERED ON A ROOFTOP.
The stars are bright.
There’s blood on his hands. The iridescent blue sheen drips off the tips of his fingers as he begins to think:
The stars are bright.
A breeze blows through the dark waves of his hair to remind him to breathe. The crisp frozen air fills his lungs in a way that sends shivers over the graying overtones of his skin and he thinks:
The stars are bright.
His eyes once so vibrant in pools of milk chocolate fight for a seat in his irises against the ink that spreads across the veins in his eyes. It threatens to seal away the humanity that clings to the water's surface - emotions welling. His tears mimic his blood and they drip off the edge of his jaw and onto the edge of concrete. Again, he thinks:
The stars are bright.
Fear. Comfort. Illusion. He yearns for the twinkle of lights among the canvas of a black night. They remind him of her. That girl. Her name sat on the tip of his tongue the way he sat in her apartment so many years ago. Is that her? he wonders. Is that her? Because:
The stars are bright.
Blinding. A memory shifts to the forefront of his mind and he remembers the last time she stared at him. The last time she stood where he stood and he wonders if she thought the same thing.
The stars are bright.
It’s been so long. Would she remember him?
The funny thing about death is that the world becomes brighter.
The stars.
They’re so bright.
There's a lot of crickets in my neighborhood.
kng update.
Oo, this is probably kinda weird to say, but I’ve been considering closing this blog down and finally putting Seungjun & Yukwon to rest.
I plan on writing a book based off their lives and have already gotten a chapter in, so it only feels like I should. I’m not entirely sure yet though.
Seungjun is 8 years old and Yukwon is 9 or 10.
They are my longest standing muses.
If I do shut this one down, I will probably make a whole new blog with newer muses based in the same universe with cameos from Seungjun and Yukwon from time to time.
I still have Near who has his own progress to make as well as wanting to make my own AU/OC based off the Trickster in DBD among other very fun ideas.
It will take me a while before I commit to anything though.
Right now, I am focusing on my discord rp servers and considering this blog has been on indefinite hiatus for years now, my disappearance isn’t anything new.
other updates: I graduated, I work full-time in production, I moved in with my best friend, and already fought a centipede and rolly polly. I don’t have a desk for my computer so everything is on the ground on a box next to my bed because after the centipede thing I refuse to sit on the carpet.
ahem. so anyway... If you’re interested in the servers I run, you can ask me about them.
k. smooch. i love you. be good.
kng.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I wish I could unscrew my head from its hinges, pull it apart, and rip out every single memory that tainted my skin. (from Nao to Seungjun)
Seungjun sits with his back against the rough exterior of a tree trunk. There's a cigarette between his lips and he listens in leisure to how they describe their feelings. It makes him smile - the interest forcing the corner of his lips to stretch and lift. He's a little pale today but the crack to his lower lips shows remnants of red. "How very angst of you." He comments, a soft bout of laugh relinquishing out in a puff of smoke. "Yeah, you could do that. You could get a few doctors to do it for you or maybe even find a nice rock. " He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth with two of his fingers and shrugs as if to say, it doesn't matter. One hand digs into his pocket out of comfort and habit and to feel the metal housed inside; it's always there. "Do you like the taste of pity? Does it get you off?" His head tilts in his question. "It's kind of poetic, really, all of that. I'm considered a hopeless romantic and this--" Deep brown eyes glancing over and trailing along their body as if they were a page in a book. "-- seems almost familiar. Well, almost is almost, and you remind me of someone." He looks away, staring off towards the rest of the park and how the sun sets on the south side. "Someone I love."
--- @notfrsale
WOODZ – colorful trauma jacket behind
