Filth and Rot

@thegillionaire​ || mission 001: SNART AND RORY TAKE THE LAUNDROMAT [aka let’s snatch these identities fam]

it was the perfect cover-- he was the current undesignated guardian of snacks, waiting on his laundry to dry. for an added bonus there was actually a set of laundry he had switched over for an unsuspecting customer in their absence, congrats, and just in case there were any doubters in that building.  there was no such thing as too cautious anymore. though that idea did conflict with the current mission at hand. argumentative, and with a clenched fist, Han was apprehensive in joining Gilbert for something as simple as identity retrievals. in the past, secret identities were already supplied in a folder, the end no question about it.

but in this case, it was for the entire Syndicate. he supposed Gil needed help carrying a damn briefcase or binder. nothing says camaraderie like joining your favorite torture buddy down the rabbit hole of the black market to gather false documents and the like for wanted mutants of the Sector of Humanity. it wasn't the result he craved, but it was a step in the direction to finding those asshats who flipped his world upside down. footsteps approached, and he tilted his head to the side to address the man. he groaned out his complaint.

"Can we please make this quick?" not that he had anywhere to be, in fact, his willingness to complete said mission was out of sheer boredom from being confined to such a small temporary living space with two people who either wanted to murder each other or make out and Rowan. the only other option he had at his disposal was bothering Min, which would lead him to lay on a leather couch staring at an aquarium while classical music played in the background. 

"My patience for idiots has run dry lately, you understand." he sighed, a twinge of spite in his words, as Gil was still not completely forgiven for his refrigerator heists. "We'll have to empty this shit machine of Cheetos or I may die of starvation or has the Grocery Goblin retired for mission night?  OR does he apologize while treating his wonderful friend to moldy pancakes after all this?"

     The bar round the corner from her apartment was quiet enough that Min enjoyed going there fairly regularly, it wasn’t too upscale considering it was in Midtown and served reasonably priced drinks, in her opinion. She sat at a tall table, she could see both entrances and keep an eye on the doors to the kitchen and bathrooms from her spot which always put her at ease, even when she was out for recreation she held a cynical view. Lifting the wine glass to her lips, she took a sip of the deep red pinot noir as she reclined on the chair, eyes scanning the room idly.      It was nice to have some peace and quiet, if Ange saw her here he would either scold her for taking a break, or question whether she was okay because she wasn’t at home nor at syndicate HQ. Her eyes rolled automatically at the mere thought of the conversation, the quiet woman was aware that her coworkers thought of her as nothing but a boring workaholic who didn’t know how to have fun. But she just had a different idea of fun, that often involved having no-one else around her so she could actually think calmly. A voice to her right caught Min’s attention and she looked at the person stood next to her with vague surprise, she’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she’d completely zoned out. Very unusual for her.

     “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

lightning bounced off the windows creating a subtle flashiness to the darkened bar windows, though it went unnoticed to the bar flies inside. the storm wasn’t at all predicted, but the small signs of its beginnings were evident in the tiny rumbles that would soon rattle place. it wasn’t the best bar in town, but it was the closest now with Han, now, having been relocated to Simon’s tiny apartments. the bars downtown were much more upscale, and more to his liking closer to his old condo downtown, but this fit just nicely when he needed to escape the tension in that tiny apartment. and while he was more at liberty to drink and be safe to find his way home, he settled on no more that two glasses of scotch for the night. 

he’d seen Min from the corner of the room, she’d chosen a very obvious spot, one he’d have be forced to sit with should they have been undercover or on a job.  the immediate conflict stirred inside to go up to her and bother her with nonsense, send her an extra moldy drink, or pretend to be the doting husband as he’d typically and nonsensically do, but the broken nose incident changed things. it stirred, in his chest, a twinge of guilt, and a softness for which he never placed in herself. despite how tough she’d always been there was that layer she hid from others. a layer he had been blind to, and a layer she hid form the world. the punch in the face did nothing to provide assurance that he deserved to see this layer. the thoughts of Doves and mayors, and Sectors had all but erased from the mind, the moment she flooded his thoughts.

“I said, how’s your nose?” he tried to offer her a smile, though looking at her clear in the face to examine that spot, all seemed well. “You really should have Gil rough me up. I still feel like I deserve it.” 

    // @everyoneatgloryhqs 

     Lying on her stomach, Rowan was sharing a fruit salad with her partner in crime and telling him about her troubles. Governer Shell didn’t have much to give in the way of input, but his moral support meant more to the girl than any useless opinions could. Placing a chunk of watermelon in front of the tortoise, she popped a piece into her own mouth and huffed through her nose “I mean, it’s like they don’t want me to enjoy any of the summer at all, you know?” she said thickly, her mouth full of fruit. Governer Shell chomped into his piece and ate it, blinking happily as he did so. “Yeah, you’re right, it’s for the best. I should stop complaining. Hey, you know you’re a great listener Gordon” she smiled, reaching over and petting his head gently with her fingers before tipping the rest of the fruit into his enclosure. “Got to go little dude, today’s my only free day and I’ve got errands to run. Try not to wreak havoc while I’m gone!” she blew him a kiss and got up from her position, grabbing her purse and keys and leaving the apartment, giving the animal one final farewell wave.      Perusing the aisles at the craft store, the girl was wondering which paints she should buy to paint Governer Shells… shell with. It was summer after all, and even tortoises deserved a make over once in a while! Pivoting, she misjudged how slippery the tiled floors were for her unforgiving converse and her foot kept on going, taking her down with it.     “Oh, sweet, baby, mother of-” she screeched, unable to vocalise a full sentence in her shock. Time moved slowly as she toppled to the ground, like Gulliver versus the people of Lilliput she didn’t stand a chance against the menace that was gravity. She tried to catch herself by reaching out wildly, but only succeeded in toppling a whole shelves worth of glitter pots and having them cascade over her also, some of them bouncing on the floor and bursting open to add a little finesse to the drama that was occurring.     After what felt like an age, she hit the ground with an audible oof, coated in glitter and visible surprise. She lifted her head up and locked eyes with someone who happened to be in the same aisle, her expression a mixture of amusement and pure shock as she spat a mouthful of glitter out and added a final flourish to her live show. “Man, what a ride!” she laughed, still laying on the floor, legs splayed awkwardly “do ya think you could help me up? I think I twisted my ankle a lil.”

he was on smoothie run for that adopted niece of his. she must have forgotten about it, it wasn’t at all uncharacteristic of her. -- he’d been tracing her movements via the Uncle Machete Han bracelet he’d gifted her for her recent graduation. and while he had reservations for that whole don’t give the kid a trophy for participation sort of deal, since she was currently enrolled in summer classes, it was more for his and Simon’s sense of ease. because with Rowan running loose on the streets along with the Doves, Han needed to know she was safe at all times. if not for himself, then for Simon. the four of them Simon, Han, Mimi, and Rowan were slowly and more certainly while cramped in that small 1000 ft apartment, were becoming a dysfunctional, yet loving family.

but that was his reason for being in that small little craft store. otherwise, he wouldn’t have stepped foot, in there. well, then again, as he walked down that aisle of multicolored string, the particular shade of scarlet struck his eye, he had to snatch it real quick for his bulletin board escapades with Gil. tucking the roll of string under his arm, the eyes flew wide at the sight, though he wasn’t at all surprised. though, it ruined his plans for stealing his new craft supply™

he scoffed before, of course, coming to her rescue. “If you twisted your ankle Simon will panic.” he held out his hand to her, while showing her smoothie. “You have to try to walk on it first, and then you get this, okay.” his mouth contorted as she continued to spew glitter all over his shoes. “Rowan, please no. Not the Bottegas.” he groaned as he gripped the bridge of his nose, but it was too late, and his new focus was on helping her up. 

     Ever since they’d gotten back from the doves “facilities”, Min could tell that something was off with Han. He wasn’t as childishly irritating, he didn’t purposely try to bother her all of the time and to top it all off he was actually taking their gym sessions seriously, perhaps he was just happy for the company.      She’d spotted him entering the building whilst she was doing her own solo workout, his brow was clouded with darkness that he probably didn’t realise he was displaying to the world, she’d have to talk to him about that. Sighing gently, she continued her weight routine and made a mental note to try and catch him before he left.       Standing from the bench, she grabbed a sanitising cloth and wiped down all the equipment she’d used, small towel slung over her shoulder casually. The woman glanced around for Han-Jae, but couldn’t see him. She’d just call him later. Mopping her brow as she headed towards the MMA room, Min had settled on cooling down with a punch routine with the bag and then a jog. Checking her watch as she opened the door, the woman had barely looked up when her journey was impeded, with a fist.

     Fire spread from the centre of her face, an explosion of lights behind her eyes and the ominous reverberating crack in her ears as she felt her nose surely break. Surprise caused her to stumble backwards, but she caught herself on the door frame before she could fall. Already surprised and confused eyes locked on the offender, a very scared and sheepish looking Han-Jae Song who was quickly backing away from her. Looking over her shoulder, she noted that no-one had yet noticed the interaction, it had only been going on for a few seconds after all, and she quickly stepped into the room and shut the door behind her.      Eyes locked back on the man, her expression more muted now as her body came to terms with what had happened and the dull aching began. She stepped forwards, making her way past him quickly to inspect the damage to her face in the far mirror.       Blood, a lot of it, her lower jaw was essentially coated in the thick carmine substance. Min glanced down and behind her, to the spotting trail that followed her progress along the floor. Looking back at her reflection, she gingerly pressed against her nose with her fingertips, hissing a wince and biting her lip at the soreness. He’d punched her pretty hard.      “It’s definitely broken” she said finally, pulling the towel from her shoulder and dabbing at her clothes to try and soak up some of the blood “I’m impressed.” she chuckled, looking at him again “I didn’t think you had it in you. Mr Song.”

he was still cowering and still backing away, hands up in defeat and planning an exit. a swift one at that. when you punch song min in the face, expect to be brought to your knees. it was a reaction of fear that limited him and kept him from speaking a much needed apology. he was still shocked by his own actions, and he was 100% regretting hitting her in the face. though her speech would break his silence in due time.

he flinched as she walked past him. he was foolish enough to think the doorframe could hold her. and the signs of him getting the ass kicking of his lifetime seemed all but sealed as she shut the door behind him. the sounds of the door hitting it’s frame turning his blood cold, as the hair on his arms stood upright on his flesh. he shuddered at the sudden goosebumps. his mind traced back to the many signature moves of Nix, trying his hardest to come up with a plan of defense, though she had already incapacitated his mind with a mere look in her eyes. he thought to just fall to his own knees and ask for mercy, though he had to be a man about it. he groaned loud enough for his voice to echo against gym walls and unused equipment. “Make it quick. Knock me out. Do your worst. I can’t promise I can take it, but I’ll try.” 

but to his surprise, she headed to the mirror behind him. his mouth fell open in a quick gasp of relief, and that’s when it finally clicked to help his colleague. a quick set of chuckles fell from his lips. how lucky he was to have dodged a bullet from Nix. 

his eyebrows furrowed in sympathy, as he shuffled around for a towel to humbly present to her, though she already had it covered. “B-broken?” he shook his head, “Oh my-- no...” he tried to help with the dabbing, though his aim was the blood that was trickling down to her jaw. a sigh of a frustrated “Noona” escaped his lips as his own fingers tenderly moved to trace the, in fact, broken nose. his tone softened, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I had it in me either. I was just--” frustrated? getting his anger out? doing as she taught him? he didn’t have an answer. “Can I take you to a doctor? It’s the least I can do” he issued his own hisses to mimic hers, he felt as if he could feel her pain.

The world didn’t start spinning until Simon stood up from his beach blanket and the sand offered his clumsy feet little to no traction as he struggled forward. The alcohol in his body prevented him from caring about the sunburned parts of his skin, the sand wedged in the spine of his book, or his dry tongue in his sandpaper mouth.

His focus centered on Han, whose hair smelled like the salty ocean as he clung to Simon’s side. He didn’t know how they’d managed to get in the back of Min’s car or up to his apartment without falling. His long legs were practically tangled with Han’s as he nearly tripped over his own feet. Han pushing himself even closer forced Simon to fall to the side, but it still couldn’t be enough to erase the grin from his face. Because Han was here and they were together and safe. What else did he have to complain about?

A lot, actually, but in his current state Simon had difficulty immediately recalling why any of them had mattered.

“I’m trying to open the door!” Simon’s voice echoed through the hall. He couldn’t even tell if hehad the right key as he tried to push one into the lock. All the small points and various colors seemed to blur together. Even if he had the right key, his unsteady hand refused to pause long enough to be much help. “–No, Han, don’t!” Simon laughed. He attempted to pull his hand away from his friend, but Han managed to pull the keys from him regardless.

Still. Han managed to get the door open so, in the end, Simon failed to see that he had anything to complain about. He nearly fell into his own apartment as they both stumbled inside. While Han flopped onto the couch, Simon’s hand thudded against the wall as he used it to steady himself.

“More wine. Yes. I’ve got it,” He fiercely nodded his head. Simon stumbled into his kitchen. He opened cabinets at random and slammed them shut when his bleary eyes found no alcohol in sight. “Do you want any chips?” Simon shouted. He procured a half-eaten bag from one cabinet and left them on the counter before he continued his search from his set of dinner plates, his various coffee mugs and cheap plastic cups, to finally the tallest shelf in his kitchen where he had moved most of his colorful glasses to. Simon pulled out a single, unopened bottle of wine along with two clear glasses before he shuffled back to the couch to greet Han.

“I got this for Sunny’s dad. But she went and told me, ‘Simon, my dad would die if he drank that’, so I didn’t give it to him,” He attempted to explain with slurred words. He shifted the bottle of semillon around for Han to see, then offered him the second empty glass. “But the way I see it is that his loss is our gain,” He grinned. “Now stop moving your hand and let me pour. I don’t wanna get any on my couch.”

the echo’s of simon’s voice would be lost in the hallway for the rest of the night, but the sound of salty ocean boy laughter would stay locked in his damn heart. beach memories, best memories. while more wine was probably not the best ideas, said a headache from future mornings, the thought failed to emit from the already buzzing brain, as chips were a new idea. a great idea. “Yes.” and he was already ready to get his hands on that bag so he could do a bit of mold magic, the mischievous grin likely painted with a smirk. 

he continued to lazily snuggle between couch cushions that would never provide a comfort. while it wasn’t a terrible couch, in fact, no matter how much Han seemed to complain about Simon’s poorly decorated apartment, he quite loved that couch. he shifted, and contorted against the furniture before ultimately giving up. ever since he’d returned from the Sector, it was hard to find comfort in anything but the cold hard ground. he’d gotten used to the idea that it was all he deserved, his body had agreed with that.

and somewhere in all this, the salty air from the ocean had ultimately dried out the already scabbed and scarred up face of that. fingernails began subconsciously picking at those itchy abrasions. he absentmindedly squinted at that sémillion holding a one free hand out for label reading, while his other hand continued to scratch at his face.

“Whites are horridly underrated.” and he was intending on opening the bottle because it was just in his nature to try and out do his friend like that, but instead he was met with a glass. he held it unsteadily as Simon worked on his pour, to which Simon complained, and he scoffed back a snarky reply in regards to the couches needing a new splash of color. though the eyes beamed up at his friend, admiring the tall. that wretched but blessed quality.

“Did you forget the chips? No matter. Just sit.” 

––––– HE BASKS IN FILTH [ ▶] ; B-SIDES ft.

@timcslipx​

@songminix​

(a song for the ex)

@thegillionaire​

@prettyamanita​

@svvvnny​

@misbhaves​

@xsvervn​

@greyxw​

(a song for the niece)

@simonmuhn​

––––– HE BASKS IN FILTH [ ▶] ; A-SIDES ft.

implied violence

impulsivity

shallow emotions

manipulative behavior

psychopathic tendencies

lack of remorse or guilt

grandiose sense of self worth

lack of empathy

superficial charm

and of course she had the suspicion, the inkling. there’d barely been mention of the boy from anyone in the know and there was no way to tell if that’d been on purpose or not until now. and it was worth asking. worth hearing the explanation, the way it all hung in the air from han’s lips directly. there’s a question of how ..  and why … and when. she felt deserving of that much, for all the risk that boy had placed against them and surely, she had every right to be selfish. and she almost gave in to that urge. prod later, she told herself, however. when her brother seemed less .. as he was. less broken and beaten by what had gone on behind closed doors. when salt in wounds and mounting stress was far less of a concern. still, it didn’t seem fitting to offer an apology for something she had little to no control over, never mind that the blonde was hardly the type for it in the first place. at least not while still sober. a study of her brother only relayed as much as his words, more or less. and for now, perhaps, it would have to do. it didn’t make sense to rock the boat unnecessarily.

though, as a result of more recent conversations, more recent occurrences, mimi couldn’t keep from wondering if there was an actual chance to get back to old habits. “can we, though? i mean, after all this … and we’re losing the condo. i was really getting used to that place.”

it almost bothered her now to consider how little she’d frequented the residence, especially in these last few weeks. her lack of wanting to interact with han in any capacity had her sending simon for errands in her stead, for little things here and there. it all seemed a little sillier in retrospect. without much thought behind it, a question rises from her lips next. “.. are we staying here for awhile?”

he over exaggerated a zipper mouth, shutting his lips and locking them closed. her tone sparking that typical “conversation is over because mimi said it’s over” annoyance. he had no choice but to shut up about it already unless he wanted to deal with an irritant princess baby sister. and by the looks of it, she didn’t have the energy for that anyway. though he did repeat the words “No big deal,” in a rather mocking fashion. he knew it was a big deal. he knew it would be a big deal, and it did scare him. because if an outsider like Julian could come sneaking in and ruin the relationships they had already established, what damage could Simon and Mimi do to all three of them? and could it be repaired? would it take time? and would he be the one to have to chose in between? could he even begin to pick sides? wasn’t he already? in believing in hope that they could make things work? or was that him picking both of their sides? finally, and not his own. a frown tugged at his lips as he felt his scars itch at the muscle movement.

“We’ll find a new place,” he reassured, petting the top of her head, seemingly getting her to settle down, though the lingering thought in the back of his mind knew that touching her hair was always off-limits. “As soon as I know it’s safe, we’ll find a new condo. A bigger one.” he sighed at that though, aloof to the idea that he let on that he had connections-- though he could have been talking about the media, right?

to her other question he frowned, “I hope that’s okay. It’s the safest place for your recovery. We can’t really pick and choose, can we?” shifting in his own spot for a second, “I’m sure you’ll want to phone the parents, I think it’s better if we wait awhile. --to not worry them. Asking for a bail out isn’t exactly one of my favorite ideas at the moment.” he rolled his eyes, “Mom seeing either of us like this--??” he shook his head the woman would go into hysterics, “I’m also convinced it’s not necessarily safe, with those assholes in the city.” 

the thought alone caused his jaw to clench, as he pulled on his sister tightly. it was a reminder for what had to be said, “They’ll pay for what they did to us. All of them.”

if he weren’t taken off guard, with the knowledge he had, couldn’t he have a fighting chance? was that stupid logic? or was it survivor logic? and what was stopping him from entering the Sector of Humanity and mutilating each and every one of them just as they did him?

the rage threatened to bubble over, the anxiousness to do something-- anything for revenge infected the mind. it was only due time before he released these tensions.

living with four people-- four of the most important people in his life, however made it hard to lie, hard to cover his tracks, and hard to slip out with so much as an excuse.

the gym bag he’d carried would still have a weapon, just in case he couldn’t get all of his frustrations on the gym bag, and his eyes continued to leer towards that thirst after each and every hard punch. the sight of blood anyone’s blood would have quenched any ache in the throat. as he began to only see more red.

they say the gym helps with relieving the stress-- it only made his worse. it only heightened this fear and paranoia that he tried to push back and it only deepened the ghostlike pains of the trauma he felt. so when the gym door opened behind him, the fist went flying to the person who interrupted him. it was a reflex reaction. it wasn’t meant for––

@songminix​ || a kiss with a fist is better than none

and the moment he’d realized what he’d done, there were instantaneous steps backwards, as if he’d taken the brunt of the blow. his eyes flew wide open in surprise. he threw his hands up in surrender. and in all honesty, he was ready for her retaliation. having seen what she could do to a man. the only words he could muster were, “Oh... no.” as he continued to cower backwards. the sight of blood not at all gaining the reaction he’d thought. 

and he was starting to believe it was nothing anyone could help him with. it was a hopeless feeling, turning to a dark obsession rather quickly. and given his other relations with a few other members of the Syndicate he'd made it a point to not show his scared up and militated face there. until today. because he wanted some kind of answers. he wanted to know if there were any leads, and he wanted to poke in and see if his kombucha brew had withered away, or if it were finished.

instead he was met with a set of blue eyes, from spirit herself

@oblame || spirit moves through all things

he greeted her with a smirk, as his eyes landed on that mug for which there was a fissure in the Syndicate band of friends. he fluttered a set of smug eyelashes and held back the information he held onto while side by side with Gil on that metal torture slab.

"Playing accomplice outside of work now, are we? Or are you going to explain why you have Simon's mug?" he crossed his arms over his chest. "Was it you who stole it instead?" he shook his head, 'Thief."

the bagel pit stop, however, wouldn’t be the only detour, it would seem. the sound of stone against stone grated in the ears, along with the dripping noises of a tiny pool of water. the smell, the pure rotten stench of the sewer pulled Han’s curiosities to that sound. Glorious, mold. sewer moldy water. perfect for homebrew kombucha.

though there was a tuft of hair that peaked from that spot, on the ground. hair belonging to a person? as he chewed on the final bite of his bagel, Han tilted his head, already needing an answer for this, he spoke to the other, an old nickname at the tip of his tongue, though he was certain

@greyxw || sewer water color of my tea. burry me out in the lone city. sewer water wash we all down to sea.

wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Wad, is that you?” he shook his head as the chuckles fell from his lips. “Don’t tell me this is your home, now.” he rubbed his hands together to remove the excess crumbs from his now gone bagel, “I can’t wait to tell everyone.” the polite thing to do would have been to offer the old colleague a hand, but given his loyalties, and the loyalties Wade lacked, he didn’t find it appropriate to help pull the man from such a low. heroes, disgusting.

“I’m certain you have an explanation for this, I’m dying to hear it.”

From the shadows of the dark alleyway, it almost appeared as if the young woman was pleased with the poised man’s response, the curve of her hip jutting out slightly as she waited for what was yet to come. Despite their unconventional meeting, the fact that he did not cower nor run away in the face of her crimes left her feeling rather.. at ease. “Thank you, hun, I appreciate your honesty.” Zelda responded with a hum, chocolate brown orbs attempting to focus on the junction between his fingers and the body at their feet. How unfortunate was it that a growing society was unable to erase the stain that was male entitlement. Perhaps if Lance didn’t see her as some innocent little girl to mug, maybe he would’t be in a situation such as the one he is in now. Hurt, shamed, edging closer and closer in acceptance of death’s embrace.

The villainess had been merciful towards her eradication of him, surprisingly, but from the looks of it, this man had zero intentions of mirroring her intentions. Her steps came to a complete halt once she stood by the man’s side, her frame standing much taller than his bent one as she watched the assailant-turned-victim turn to something that should have made her stomach church. Her expression was completely apathetic with his use of his powers until the sinful odor lead an attack on her senses. Zelda was certainly no stranger to the macabre, but this was on a completely different level. This was gruesome and it quite frankly intrigued her. Once the man who was once known as Lance was nothing but decay, the brunette let out a tiny yet impressed scoff.

“That was..” Words did not reach her tongue as easily as she had wished, though the wild grin that stretched at her lips was enough to express her thoughts on what she had just witnessed. Instead, she opted for a low clap that proceeded to echo in the alley, eyes dancing with devilish bemusement. Finally, some exceptional villainy. “Absolutely brilliant. You have made my day, truly. What are your powers?”

it wasn’t at all honesty for which he spoke. it was actually a great deal of sarcasm he was issuing. a reasonable person would not have taken Lance’s life so mercilessly, though there was no blame on her part. he’d stick to the story should he ever be questioned. it was simply self-defense. the woman had no idea that Lance would piss her off beyond the point of blacking out in a fit of rage. it’s not at all beyond any idea a simple detective could grasp. his statement was meant to flatter her, nonetheless. though having witnessed her beat a man to the brink of death, he was smart enough to not correct her, nor speak otherwise against her own reasonable nature. 

he squinted his eyes at her as she formed her compliment. “Do you make it a habit of being so generous? It’s been twice now that I’ve had to use my manners with you.” his tone, sounding like a complaint, he was quick to nod his head in an uncharacteristic bout of humbleness, “Thank you, again. It’s no problem at all, really. Just a wave a hand and the decomposition does all the rest. Some would say it’s a form of time travel into the future” he shrugged his shoulders, “Other’s-- the more logical thinkers-- assume it has to do with the chemical compositions in the body reacting with other elements. In simple terms it’s a manipulation of rot.” another chuckle fell from his lips, “To put in dramatic colloquial cliche form, ‘Everything I touch turns to shit’.” 

in fact, there weren’t many problems as he clung to the shoulder of his friend. his own bodyweight likely dragging down the other as they were ushered to the right apartment door by a wonderfully beautiful friend that Han certainly did not deserve. she was constantly saving his ass.

though, they both would owe her a for getting them home safe. there wasn’t a thought to thank Min, no, the only thoughts were to pull––

@simonmuhn​ || head in the clouds and I'm not coming down

closer into a nuzzle to selfishly keep himself from toppling over. as if they hadn’t already spent the entire time at the beach inseparable. what was supposed to be a beach party to celebrate life, ended up being a celebration in the friendships that he was so lucky to have. when it was the two of them, just Simon and Han— it was a celebration of silence. it was a celebration of the entire world being completely quiet, save for those two. it was a celebration of what really mattered to Han, seeing Simon so content and at peace for once.

“Let’s take five million more hours to open a door, yes!” he was sunbaked, slightly sunburned with sand still on his skin and a smile on his face. and while he wasn’t already helping the process, he was worsening it, but trying to first stand on his own, second trying his best to yank keys out of Simon’s hands, and thirdly, violently re-inserting them only to cause more of a ruckus for the other inside.

“See… that’s how you open a door, Simon,” though, if we’re honest here, Simon was doing much better on his own. he let out a rather uproarious set of laughter as his footsteps entered the apartment. there wasn’t a thought at all that anyone else would be home. he rubbed his hands together, “More wine, let’s see here.” his voice carried as his slurred words and feet moved to find a bottle, though he was landing on a couch from the dizziness. 

“Simon, you’ll find it, right?”

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