#(.para

“I’m a firm believer of pet communication myself, especially with dogs, because dogs are the greatest. I love the barks, the woofs, the yaps, the chirps,-” he stops right there before he plunges into a full-on monologue about canine noises, a sheepish smile forming on his curved lips. “You get the point. I always talk with my dog and I’m willing to accept any odd looks people might send my way. That’s the kind of conversation I truly enjoy, it’s on a higher social level that not everyone can understand.” his humorous words are laced with obvious playfulness, despite the fact he actually does chat with his pet, quite often. “When I see my puppy after a long day, he has a lot to tell me, what can I do. What about you, do you share an emotional bond with a domestic pet?”

ft. @kgxjisoo

whereas it might not look it at that moment, yongguk isn’t a stalker.

or he could be judging by how he isn’t even on any certain mission at that moment ㅡ isn’t supposed to be, at least ㅡ but he still finds himself with an id that doesn’t belong to him between his index and middle finger like it’s the most natural thing in the world, steps away from the library that has its name printed across the top of the offending item. maybe now would be a good time to stop, to just head over to kingsman and hand the identification in but there’s something about finding out himself that’s so appealing.

that, and the fact that his leg still aches like a bitch and it didn’t help that he had yoongi over the other night who won’t stop commenting on his significantly evident limping as though it’s the only source of entertainment. his injury has, upsettingly, decreased his efficiency in the field by at least twenty seven percent and yongguk can’t help the fact that he wants to ask one (1) hong jisoo exactly who they are.

the thought of that drives him inside the library, one hand in pocket, the other playing with the card as he sweeps a glance over the room. 

oh, thunder in my heart, these razors cutting sharp and leaves me with an ever bleeding scar. @ppllvns / eunchan & hyunsu / building roof, 9:53 pm.

there’s something about roofs that eunchan likes. he thinks it’s that sudden drop. clifftop-steep without bars or barriers to keep anyone locked away from that promise of danger. he likes the feeling of that. danger, or something like it. the way adrenaline will rush underneath his skin and kick start his heart. the way it makes him feel a little less numb, flirting with the concept of death. he likes to say he’ll never die. he’ll laugh it out like he believes it. eunchan does that with a lot of things. a firecracker-bright smile, laughter that spills like a flood from his chest. a wild nature, a wilder heart. 

it’s easy to make people believe happiness, eunchan figured that one out a while ago. at least, it had been for him. he wasn’t supposed to be sad when eunwoo was. or when eunwoo wanted him to be happy. eunchan’s a burden of the boy, and revealing those lonely, wretched, aching pieces of himself would only make that burden heavier to bear. so he’s happy, a feather light soul, walking on air, laughing in the face of danger. he doesn’t tell anyone it’s because it makes him feel alive. makes him feel terrified. makes him feel like like attempting to fly (sometimes, only sometimes).

hyunsu’s different. maybe that’s why eunchan likes him so much. hyunsu doesn’t bother with pretending. hyunsu doesn’t care if anyone notices that he’s angry. raw. upset. hyunsu throws fists at walls and spits out curses. disappears for days at a time to hide behind his rage. hyunsu’s real. that’s what eunchan thinks. realer than he is. he thinks hyunsu might hate him, too, if he knew who eunchan was at the heart of it all. but eunchan doesn’t like to think about that, so he doesn’t. not right now, anyway. just wears his smile. a bottle of soju in one hand, cigarette in the other. has them both held aloft as he wanders up and down the lengthy edge of the roof like it might be a balance beam.

“i should join the olympics. team. olympic team? the balancing ones.” eunchan declares as he lets himself pivot on a heel. wobbles just a little bit, catches himself by jamming his second foot down to steady himself. laughs despite it and pauses only to take in another mouthful of booze. grape, it only tastes like candy when he’s drunk. otherwise it tastes like shit. “i’m so good at this. honestly. come too.” he starts back again, makes a face at hyunsu as he crosses past where the other’s sitting.

@247chaewon

The lady in Valentino dress and Manolo Blahnik heels might not be who she claimed she was; and the man with a dreamy smile whose sweet nothing meant exactly that, nothing. 

This part of the world was filled with lies, schemes, and ostentatiousness. People who you could be completely honest and open to are rare to find, so they knew they were lucky to have each other. Maybe it was because both of them were equally messed up in some aspects, Chaewon and Yijoo connected in ways that they couldn’t with anyone else. And what happened back in high school? It only made their bond stronger than ever. Song Chaewon was her other half. Always was and always would be.

Wiping the rouge lipstick off, Yijoo changed out of the stiffed formal clothes and slipped on her comfortable sleepwear. Walking to the kitchen, she grabbed the bottle of rosé that she had taken from her dad’s cellar last weekend. As she rummaged through the cabinet for a bottle opener, the idea of savoring the wine with another company appealed to her. 

It was 10 PM, she knew for certain the fashion designer had not hit the hey yet. Ecstatic, she threw on a silk robe, padded out of her apartment with the wine bottle and a box of macarons. Perks of living in the same complex as your best friend, you could have spontaneous girls’ night in any time any day! 

@taeminrk

tiredness makes his limbs feel as if they’re not entirely part of his body, like they’ve been sewn on and are a little too big and long and only respond to half of the commands his brain gives them. it’s early morning, his coordination failing considerably as he desperately tries to wake up before everyone shuffles off to breakfast and then off to their day.

sungho, in his tired and sleepy state, misses the edge of the table that’s been moved to the hall, probably for some maintenance staff to move or get rid of sooner than later. of course it’s to his right side, the side with the hand wrapped in a cast that isn’t as snug as it once was now that a considerable amount of swelling has gone down. murphy’s law seizes him, he walks into the table full force with his weakened hand. if it had been tighter he would have been fine, but the jostling sends a sharp ache through his injured appendage.

@rkjuyeon

“soohyun is really cute,” he half-whines, throwing himself back against the couch as he locks his phone as a clip from the most recent royal survival episode comes to a close on youtube. kenta tries very hard not to pick his favorites too early in a show, but something about the girl stood out to him. it was probably her song choice; she certainly stood out from the others to him with that. “i’m not supposed to have favorites yet, juyeon. help!”

he makes it sound more dramatic than the situation actually is, as if it’s the worst thing ever to have an early favorite in what is undoubtedly going to be a long and heartbreaking competition. at least he has her, a good friend, to vent about all the rookie mistakes he is making by falling for one of the girls far too quickly. “they’re all so talented too.. wow.. and usually i have a soft spot for foreigners in survival shows because i.. what’s the word.. understand how they feel? korean is hard, language and culture sometimes.”