* 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 / 𝒅𝒆𝒃𝒕

dependent     to     insuccession.     starring     jeong     doheum     puppeteered     &     ADORED     by     markus       ,       he     +     him       ,      twenty-two

-—–       /        BIOGRAPHY        /        DOSSIER        /        INTRO        /        PLOTS

(———)

“you having fun, doheum?” his tone is cocky but not above a whisper to avoid calling the attention of their homeroom teacher. there’s a smirk that matches on his lips and if you looked close enough, a twinkling in his eyes. he’s enjoying himself, watching the boy who can do no wrong settle into the downfall of his own creation. if doheum’s an angel, he’s definitely the devil.

*  /  HOW BLISTERINGLY DULL, this velvet-dripped evening absolutely derailed by one finite variable. one singular being. of course it would be him. shin woosung, the paramount figure of what happens when you muddle an attitude with a grave need for adjustment and some caged & warmongering joseon spirit possessing a teen. HE’S DOHEUM’S ANTITHESIS; JUXTAPOSITION. it’s JUST the jeong heir’s luck to meet the damn brute face to face and there’s something sharply grating about how he’s now down in the pit of it all with him. woosung’s misery must be particularly lonely, soohyun’s too since he plays into all this so often. he latently wonders if the older is somehow rewarded for his deviancy.

I. wonders what that must be like; misery.

he’s been acutely curious for some time but a breed of intrigue that he had about most things. ( LIKE ANY ICHOR-VEINED PREDATORY THING. ) what brought someone to be so. . mindlessly violent, anyway? aimless it all seems from the outside but psychology was a funny thing. he’d say there’s some interest in what’s behind the cavity of that warrior skull but he’s not sure there’s much AT ALL. oh, not to mention he hasn’t got any manners, either. he’s gawking, eyes roaming about doheum’s person like a syphon while his idle fingers whittle away at work. work that he WOULD’VE been doing at the study room if not for his senior. his gelid vision hasn’t spared woosung a glance while fixated on the bare space upon his page. admittedly though, his motion is STUNTED, a pathetic staccato of his wonted fluidity. ( read—- reread, reread again. ) 

suffice to say inspiration to complete it falls nothing short of barren, not when a warzone awaits him on all fronts. paranoia cozies into his gut; razing the lucid calm of rationale and tearing down the alabaster pillars of resolve. he knows he’ll never hear the end of it, some long winded lambaste from his father about falling short of expectation. how can he say but like this; there will come a day when he doesn’t have to answer to anyone at all and he is only biding his time. polar countenance, usually so ADAMANTINE & acerbic, has allowed something rogue to suffuse the space. something uncomfortable. doheum’s raison d'etre has always been to keep a low profile, a pristine cherub midst the din of delirium—- this will be a problem. 

*  /  SILENCE’S RESPITE UTTERLY FRACTURED, split down the middle by the thunderous rumbling of doheum’s engine and so goes any scintilla left of tranquility. ( spare for maybe doheum’s own, isn’t that funny? ) the chasmic purring beneath the bugatti chiron’s hood is a sound strong enough to reverberate against slats of his ribs, buzzing the spaces that have never been touched by light. though it’s debatable if any of him was light at all. it’s one of his favorites for joy rides with a visual just as opulent as its owner. of course, he’d not settle for less. a bespoken car, everything from the upholstery to stygian matte paint that swallows up any beads of colour that strike it and he finds himself congested with a sense of pride each time he turns the key. especially in those still moments where he dwells with no destination in mind. just him, the scrawls of pavement, and that acute sense of OBLIVION that comes from driving when the roads have all emptied themselves—- existing when none else do.

only this solitude is whisked off its feet before it can protest, as often was the case. as the natural margins of the milky wolfen moon swells in the canvas of black above, so too did the scape of his heart. ( all that emptiness descending and dissipating. ) it’s illuming this impending diablerie with a cooled hue, draping itself in the dips of his collarbones and casting out the dark. * / no place for it here, now. here he’s feather-light, and how TRULY RARE to find him completely at ease. he’s always humming, vibrating in some place that keeps him just at the edge of some unnamed precipice. heavy-heavy-heavy. equanimity saturates, slow & vigilant, through each vein as he lies in wait for his company. hell knows the empty lot he’s settled into needed something, anything, to brighten the atmosphere. taeyi, the eldest of their grave trio and man of the hour finally glides into the lot like guardian angel. 

*  /  ATARAXY’S DIVINE MURMUR, working away beneath the thick splendour of doheum’s life and inevitably pushing him to be. . somewhat complacent. he’s poised at the cynosure of the jeong lineage, the damn paradigm to callousness. what on earth could a spider with a web this large have to fear? he’ll gorge on anything unfortunate enough to fall into it. ( I &. there’s no elegy for a man like this. ) though there’s something to be said about the state of his fragile comfort; to be said about ANYONE this high to the peak of the world. oh, hasn’t he always been on top? his lifestyle swollen by atrocity, it’s eked out a home through each pump of his heart && it takes some particular brand of ROT to no longer bat an eye. he, unflinching in the eye of loss, has had no reason for worry. 

between the gold-freckled cathedrals of untarnished PR, the operations beneath the jeong name are sealed from the outside gaze. 

     * / UNTIL THEY AREN’T.

a resounding cold echoes through seoul, though he’s saturated in warmth inside, it will soon find its way into his very home.

—— THORNY BRAMBLE, MEET THE GARDEN GLOVE.

when the roseate card first comes to him, it's awfully benign—- innocent enough to pass through razor-edged cognizance. what’s this? he’s still nursing several generous fingers of whiskey, expression waxing and waning between a state of concentration and confusion. is this the aftermath of his latest fling? ( that lass from ITALY, if memory serves. ) she sure changed her tune quick and he’d thought their parting to be nothing if not pleasant. 

no, much too vague to be from her. one of those small fry gangs trying to pick a fight, maybe? he’d had countless of these clandestine notes over the years though most had some malignant foot note attached, some condition in the fine print with the goal of twisting his arm. ( he twists theirs instead, silly merry-go-round. ) it’s always amateur at best in toiling some reaction from his senticous heart but this one? he’s got some hazy intuition hissing of some otherwise, of something else. 

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 ⠤ @sndoheum 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 ⏤ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐌 - 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐋, 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐀

❛ ⏤ it’s snowing, heumie. ❜   intonation is laced with the saccharinity of enchantment, sleeve of sweater shaken down to ensure that tips of digits are concealed within thin cotton. only then does palm rise to rest against window, now certain that not a print would be left in it’s wake :   wistful is she, gazing out upon it. below, minuscule shapes are just made out despite the height from which she observes. what are they doing? gradually, she comes to recognize that the individuals are playing, forging frigid, crystalline spheres. oh. never was she permitted such a joyous moment, in which one is carefree and unburdened. playing in the snow…   tier purse within a moment’s thought before she withdraws her touch and turns quick upon heel, barren feet emitting nary a sound as they pad across woodwork thoroughfare.

perhaps, perhaps, do - heum would already have an inkling as to just what jae - in desired. the manner in which lower tier extends within faux paut, thick - fringed lashes around doe’s gaze fluttering, certainly evidences just how hopeful she is.   ❛ i want to go out there. i know it’s dumb, and i know that it’s cold and that playing in the snow’s for⏤   for kids, but i never got to, so heumie, please, can we? ❜

*  /  HONEY-SOPPED REVERIE, a hibernal wonderland in the world below —— something like peace, something so fragile && sacred. the world is SUSPENDED beyond time down there, a beauty siphoned straight from the realm of dreams that’s utterly lost on his abysmal gaze. he regarded it little, IF AT ALL, from his empyrean heights. ( why should he? ) who else revels in this liminal space than someone zephyr-soft and songbird-sweet; befit of wool in his house of fang. this lissome lamb, her scintillating joie de vivre enlivening the tepid atmosphere with little more than a few syllables. it’s her that draws him out, words curling out to heave his gaze from his phone. just as she’d said, snow, indelible essence of purity fluttering down past the large glass pane with jaein poised just before it all. his brows, furrowed for one beat, two, three—- relaxing again into marble features before a reverbing hum drawls from the depths of his throat, borne of fondness in confirmation. * / to say he’s struck by a secondhand kick is an understatement. levity jaein was swollen with eases the blow in that vacancy swirling the pitchy-dark of the jeong heir’s eyes. 

*  /  REVERENT INKLINGS BLEED, the billowing OMEN of his reputation that’s been the jeong heir’s signature as long as he could have one. ever wonder why his smile is all teeth? bite-bite-BITE—-  even as the idyllic eventide had peeled open and tucked the sun behind the blanket of the horizon, there’s a stirring. a malignant humming in the back of his thoughts. his presence that ebbs inward && flows outward as a vicious TIDE out to swallow anything in the crests. OH, ISN’T THIS LUXURY? ISN’T IT HIS? he’s never known any other meaning of the word than his own name preceding his body, each wicked epithet arriving first & leaving last. it’s either that or showing up & showing out with all that rotten bad news stapled to his steps. he, the underworld’s shepherd with every scintilla of his burden casting grave shadows. ( I. & no room for delicacy in this life, hm? ) 

his next unfortunate victim is the blisteringly dull clerk of the fendi store, who’s been coaxing him as if he were a wildfire since the burdened echo of his footsteps first ricocheted the laminate floors. * / can anyone blame her? placating the BEASTS of the social elite pales the role of any patron saint; to so gently, gently, usher them to purge their wallets and mill down their egos when they feel spurned. doheum is no exception; buzzing about his side like a gnat. though he’d snapped her off with no shortage of grace and courtesy, man / BEAST stiffened with displeasure urged her silence. AND YET even as he’s sifting the embezzled prices, at the forefront of his tunnel-like mind ticking away at super-sonic paces is that black box. 

     * / & HOW odd—- how rare an opportunity.

this life of a SOCIALITE was oft one consumed by these sort of. . muted power struggles. it sponges up the griefs of the weak and tosses a bone to the top dog. yet the passing of the baton was normally broken out under the cover of darkness, in hushed rooms with nothing but susurrus and paperwork. this? CONSPICUOUS AS THE SUN ITSELF, traipsing a tightrope above seoul for all to behold. a damn whirlwind of commotion! in amongst the throngs of anyone else aiming for the crown, he surmises, his motivations are more compact. more streamlined. ( COLD MAN—- COLD HEART. ) cold-blooded being that he was, his strategy is simple enough. he’ll brush fingers with as many of them as possible and draw them into the very den of wolves. though he benefits, it’s SYMBIOTIC for all parties. boy, carved of starlight with that glittering smile, offering a place of comfort. it seems all too tempting, no? his lungs SWELL, husky timbre churning out a swath of warmth and (admittedly) measured candor to the shop’s attendant.

*loud twiddly fanfare* what’s that you say?? you want MORE unnecessary info about a goblin straight from hell but a heaven-sent face but is also pretty swaggy and likes sexcie things like extortion? SAY NO MORE!! but before that i think some introductions are in order on moi. i’m markus ( he/him ) and quite honestly stoked to be a part of this bundle of chaos and get to know each of your muses!! pls refer to my pinned post for any necessary links for stats, bio etc!