#gvssamer

Jaxon

    Intoxication to the point of pointless blabber has more or less become a common occurrence for Jaxon these days than he’d like admit. It wasn’t as if he really NEEDED to drink to rid himself of unpleasant thoughts, because there were no unpleasant things to worry about (at least not these days). It was to cure sheer boredom, more often than not, an excuse to lose his otherwise keen sense of balance and rather analytical thoughts that swarmed his mind daily. He needed a break, occasionally, from routine that itched at his skin like some sort of parasite, reminding him that indeed the once prince of rebellion and smart ass comments had grown – boring. He doesn’t like the life of responsibility or that which causes him to take the ‘adult’ perspective in situations he’d rather jut punch his way out of and worry about – well, never.

    It’s why, like most endings to a long day, his liver seems to thank him with aching madness whenever he happens to find a bottle of liquor in his hands; uncapping it to drink from the top like some type of barbarian rather fill a cup like a normal human being. 90proof Vodka – it reads, chuckle spilling past his lips no doubt carrying to those patrons bedside him in dimly lit bar, soft sound otherwise going unnoticed. He’d end up shit faced, no doubt, in a matter of minutes, if his track record was any proof of that; feeling a tad tipsy after four of five shots already. Sheepish grin forms along visage, a soft hiccup falling freely via ample lips that are briefly flicked with a quick swipe of tongue; gathering a hint of what’s left of a lingering taste.

    With appendage slipping behind chair of one beside him, it’s urged to turn, just fraction enough for a dazed pupil dilated stare to meet opposite belonging to female he’d undoubtedly seen before. He’d always been good with faces, not so well with names. It doesn’t take long for palm to smooth it’s way along slender back, digit drumming to female’s spine in order to gain her attention further. Jaxon had always been touchy without a hint of alcohol in his system, his culture shock coming to Korea after spending a good 16 years upon American soil hitting him hard upon finding out it was deemed ‘inappropriate’ to touch others so freely, much less invade their personal space. Alas, he’d found it even more entertaining to make others uncomfortable, to see them squirm, be it under a gaze or a touch; his more sadistic side showing itself.

    He smiles, a half filled expression holding no real meaning and more or less a drunken gesture made to distill whatever discomfort may linger with his not so subtle approach in gaining her attention. “I remember you, the girl who likes to sneak into buildings and get half naked.” soft hum reverberates in throat and perhaps he speaks a bit too loudly, no shame held in his words, as elbow presses to counter and chin comes to rest against palm for support. “You ever break into … somewhere interesting?” another sheepish expression is made and had anyone he actually knew been present they would have ruled it off as nothing more than childishness; however to the ‘untrained’ eye it’s nothing more than downright mischievous. “I have… once.. or twice, I broke into the deans office back home… changed my grades and burned my ‘bad’ school records…. fun stuff –” he doesn’t know why he’s telling her this, a drunken stupor no doubt, drawn back to his foolish days’ looking to side briefly only to stare at her once more. “Wanna break into somewhere fun with me?”

A catastrophy ; here’s how she’s going to describe this party to anyone who’d ask about it. After two hours in this overheated and smoke-filled apartment, it feels like she entered Hell rather than a regular loft. Or the set of a porn movie ; couples everywhere, with their tongue lost in the wrong mouth and their hands up underneath the wrong shirt. Alcohol would help get in the mood, she thought. But after the umpteenth glass, it seems that not even alcohol can be her savior. Quite the other way around ; now her stomach is having a party of its own, randomly squirming within her abdomen in attempt to get rid of what’s intoxicating the young female. ( a bathroom, quick! ) She staggers to the first one she can come across, and god only knows how many obstacles she’s got to avoid on her way ; empty cups, puddles of alcohol, carpets, the list is long. Finally, finally, she finds herself in front of what she thinks to be a locked bathroom - and is quickly informed that those in are far from being about to get out. 

The dark hues of her dazed brown eyes find his, palm pressed flat against the surface of the door for ( emotional ) support. Would her intoxicated brain be able to put the words he’s pronouncing in the right order, sober Miran would wonder why the fuck would someone stay behind a door while the couple inside is having obvious issues "getting it up”. Couldn’t that be considered as voyeurism, she’d ask herself. Another retching draws Miran’s attention to the bin that’s just been kicked her direction. She’s prompt to tie her hair up in one messy, messy bun ( wasted Miran knows how to remain dignified. somehow... ) and to bring that damn bin closer to her face. The emanations of alcohol coming up from it tickle her nostrils ; kick her stomach. In a moment of clarity, she grants the young man an apologetic look ( run, boy, run! ) before turning away to empty the contents of her stomach in the offered container. Discretion in such situation is hard to maintain. 

       ♡       Locked doors had never been an issues for the dancer. In fact, he’d gotten his start at picking locks around age sixteen. Mixing in with w r o n g crowd amidst his high-school years, it had also been same year he’d picked up nasty habit of smoking – his so called ‘friends’ poisoning his mind with one of life’s fatal vices. It’d been a defining year for him, seventeen just around corner when he’d thought himself to be in height of his dancing career, of course that blow of failing his first audition had done much to penetrate ego that seemed almost impenetrable to prying eyes. While he’d never been type to show his disappointment, Jaxon had gone a bit ‘wild’ that night.

  Taking out his frustrations in form of trespassing and vandalism which ultimately had ended in his detainment and a midnight calling to his father that hadn’t been to pleased to wake up  day before large case. It was safe to say he’d been bailed out, slap on wrist granted to boy who had otherwise made certain to keep record clean, not really by choice, but because no pristine school would allow delinquent behind it’s walls. Thankfully, all records were expunged after he’d hit eighteen.

  So, when it’d come to losing sole key that kept him from entering and locking door of dance studio, there wasn’t hint of anxiety. Instead he finds it easier to click lock with use of credit card and bobby pin he’d found in wallet (probably product of wanting to keep his growing fringe from visage during practices). No surprise comes, however, in seeing another body in studio’s confines, he’s certain (in fact) that he’d seen her amidst moving bodies of students and dancers alike. The only difference now, is female happened to be half naked, bearing flesh in manner that may have sent his heart racing, and a curl of heat to gut had he been more innocent.

  “It’s not a changing room.” is a bland retort, door shut behind him as duffle bag is tossed to side, gaze once more, shamelessly so, sliding itself over female’s exposed flesh; hum of approval made at taut figure but nothing more. He’s seen plenty of naked flesh, as lewd as it seems, and no longer feels the excitement there was once to have upon the viewing. Action seemed to be more of his forte these days, alongside a certain chemistry that would ignite fire in bones, strike through vein in a mild boil.

  The female anatomy had always intrigued him, past point of simply wanting to watch porn or flip through magazine. Jaxon hadn’t been type to sneak away such lewd material in his youth and instead had gone for real thing – recollection of time when he’d first seen female adorning nothing but rather see through blouse flickering through mind. Almost encouraging his stare to linger a tad too long against female’s frame, admiring curve and dip of what he could gather without seeming like some kind of perv. She had to be student here or at least dancer, no one held such muscle and taut flesh in those area unless they were keen on dance itself. “Are you here to practice or entertain?” he snorts, gaze fixing itself upon mirror now, digit coursing through lock; short stare tossed to female’s visage.

Name: Heo June  Age: 20 (19 Internationally) Species: Human Gender: Female Orientation: Straight Profession: Idol, Group member

PHYSICAL ASPECTS

Body Type: Slender, thin Hairstyle: Long, Dark Brown Eye color: Dark Brown Skintype: Tanned Height: 163cm Weight: 47kg

FAMILY INFORMATION

Siblings: Older brother (Open plot) Parents: Mother ‘Kim Misook’, Father ‘Heo Youngsoo’ Children: None Any pets: Ace, Brown Bearcoat Sharpei

INTERESTS

Colors: Pastel colors, preferably pin Scents: Fruity and sweet scents Food/Drinks: Healthy foods, prefers fruits over vegetables Alcoholic beverages: No

OTHER DETAILS

       ♡       The truth – was always an iffy topic to discuss. Most people, could rule it off as something simple, a black and white scenario where one either told truth or lied – simple. Yet, most people weren’t deep thinkers when it came to such. Unfortunately, Jaxon was one of those deep thinkers, always sticking to a quieter approach when contemplating what to say and how to say it. Rare, it was to find someone that understood what he meant whenever words would flow from ample tier effortlessly. He had habit of locking his lips more often than not during more sensitive topics – call it a childhood habit or perhaps something that had been beaten into him until he’d understood. Not that he was really taking things seriously now, especially not over a half eaten platter of samgyupsal; his chopsticks in mid grab for third to last large piece of meat.

  “Don’t know what you mean.” hum settles in throat, meat taken from iron platter and gaze landing on female as he goes to stuff his face; chewing without breaking eye contact. “Running from the truth —” he chews, pausing words in-between, “.. in the literal sense would be impossible, well, depending on the ‘truth’ you are running from. Lying, however, to cover up the truth cannot be achieved forever – you’re right.” Everyone lied, at least once in their lives, it was human nature – more often than not – to hide from telling truth, especially when that truth could cause pain on another or even just themselves. He could name a few instances, not that he would, where he too had lied, sometimes even to himself.

  Rolling neck, palm comes to slide and rest just along nape, his gaze fixing itself ahead – digit coursing through dyed flaxen locks and urging them free from forehead; chopsticks placed to side. “Sometimes, I can see where it might be more appealing to lie to oneself, maybe even to a loved one or a close friend.. yet, personally, I see no gain coming from it. The truth is discovered eventually.. it’s best to tell it flat out rather beat around bush and have it found out, especially when you’re the one getting caught in the lie itself.” the dancer leans back, appendage crossing over chest as he watches female, partial caution riddling dark orb mixed with more so selfish curiosity, “What are your views?”

Well, yes – everyone had nipples. That was just a fact of human anatomy and while Jaxon hadn’t been the smartest in high-school, his grades always lacking due to his constant skipping and sleeping, he knew at least this much. Admittedly, he hasn’t exactly seen that many people fully bare, as much as he’d like to brag and say he’s fucked around many times– the true amount of times he has fucked around would probably equate to s e v e n  partners and seven alone; ah, but seven was a nice number was it not? He could think his more drunken nights, those where he’d given into the temptation of alcoholic consumption during high-school parties despite his overwhelming distaste for the poison. There were no regrets, really, it’d all been fun times, those spent getting rid of heated frustrations and sometimes just plain lust that seemed to overwhelm one’s senses.

Still, watching screen of movie that rolled on, he can’t help but grimace – the D-list horror movie had suddenly turned into a soft porn. While he wasn’t shy about his likes for lewd films, hell, he’d even watched a few with his best friend once or twice – Jaxon feels a bit, uncomfortable. It was overdrawn, an obvious seeking of attention made in order to draw in viewers that had come for sex scene and nothing else – obviously the plot was shit, but the dancer did enjoy shitty plots and even shittier acting. What can he say, it was amusing to see the story unfold.

“Yeah – but it’s so obvious her tits are fake… surgeon did a bad job with the nipples too… one looks bigger than the other.” he murmurs, taking a large sip of his drink, glasses he didn’t really need to adorn for nothing more than fashion purposes hanging low along bridge of his nose as he grimaces at the actresses even faker orgasm as killer ‘eerily’ approached in background to finish off the couple coincidentally after they’d had their little tryst in cabin; really, it was starting to get hard to watch. He glances to side, briefly, brow furrowing as his stare lingers along females visage, “Don’t tell me you are actually getting into this… I swear, I’d much rather watch 50 shades than this – jesus…”

Despite her overal lack of romantic relationships, she knew quite a lot about the human body. Due to majoring in physical education, she’d learn a lot about the ways a human body could move and would perform during certain types of situations. To her, the anatomy of a human was nothing more than natural. She felt no shame in talking about any sorts of body parts, whether from your usual limbs to your more intimate parts. With her overal lack of lower legs, and all the information she’d received regarding those body parts, she had started to become a whole more casual with anything related to the body in general. Many hours spent in the hospital and rehabilitation centre, it made her pretty desensitized. So a countless movies including sexual scenes yet not even once she had felt bothered or shy because of it, she saw it as the human’s nature.

She herself wasn’t all too impressed by the plot either, though the two had assumed the movie would be a little better upon picking it, it was interesting enough to keep watching. Even after the many minutes of a bad plot line and horrible acting. Now that they’d started it, they wanted to finish and see what horribly cliché ending had been created for the said movie. She wasn’t particularly fond of horror or sexually based movies, though she wasn’t what one would call a scaredy-cat either. She was pretty neutral about it all. Nonetheless, neither were impressed it seemed.

         How sexy. Jay can’t help but to snort upon the sight in front of eyes, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth with arms crossed over his chest. His own action was practically a childish whim, his attempt to run away from the boredom and a way to amuse himself. After all, he had figured it out by now how Jax could possibly react. Funny how the elder couldn’t really think about Jax as of a friend, considering how comfortable they were around each other. In dance and common interests they must have clicked at some point, though Jay still remains cautious. it isn’t a new thing for him to seemingly grow close to someone too quickly, after all. The younger is amusing, almost too entertaining for the elder to care about possible consequences, though.

“Swallow first.” The seductive line is thrown with a glint of mockery filling brown irises, though in fact he was reffering to the noodle hanging from between the male’s lips. Brows raise briefly, lips twitching in a semblance of a teasing smile in response to given inquiry. And ah, Jax is surely just as amused., though tries to prove otherwise.

“Am I supposed to come up with a contract with stated requirements? Come on, let’s fuck.” The tone of his voice is just a tad playful, still soft nonetheless, almost not matching the obviously seductive if not simply perverted content of his words.