#jongsthetic

He was literally sitting on a flying carpet. Holy fuck, knowing the right people sure did pay off. Like yes, this carpet choked their last owner and had the one before that dropped down from a height that... well basically he became a human pancake when he actually reached the ground. But Suho was smart. It wasn't that easy to hurt or kill him and besides, he knew how to handle magical or hexed items. Witches also usually used the help of Pagan Gods. Well how lucky was he to be friends with some very... he couldn't say nice, probably. Probably... easy to influence Gods. 

He flew through the sky, soaring high for the first time in way too long. His smile was bright and he felt utterly in bliss.

Yes, the carpet did try shaking him off once but just like any poorly behaved mutt, just a few punishments had him learn who was the master there and the deathly turns, spins and attempts seized. 

"Jesus fucking Christ! Disney wasn't stupid, this is the best damn thing one could even think about. Who the hell needs brooms when you have this!" He called out to no one really, mostly breaking into fits of hysterical laughter by himself that could probably borderline insanity.

random sentence starters. ( x )

Today is really, really, really not a good day. There's a pounding in his skull that rivals being hit by a freight train, his skin feels as if it's on fire, and he's shivering from head to toe. His appearance isn't any better, if the rosy red hue of his nose and cheeks, and the circles underneath his eyes have anything to say. 

Yes, he had been a fool enough to think that he could get through flu season without catching the awful bug, but it seems that fate has had other plans for him, and since his lover has been gone to schedules, leaving him alone with no medicine in the house, he decided to make the trek to the nearest convenience store. However, it seems that his luck is no better than his fate, and as his gets out of his car upon parking in front of the store, sure that he can fight off the nausea until he gets home, well--

It most definitely is not the case.

It's disgusting, he thinks, and he doesn't even have time to register the fact that someone else is standing so close until the words of the clearly perturbed, unimpressed other reaches his ears, and he suddenly feels like crying. Could this day get any worse?

He ambles down the sidewalk, his head tilted upward as he passes skyscrapers, trying his hardest to spot the pinnacle of the building before he completely passes it. A triumphant smile spreads across his lips when he finally spots it and he lowers his head just in time to realize he's about to crash into the person walking ahead of him. He stops himself, but not before he accidentally steps on the back of their shoe, and his expression immediately changes into an apologetic one.

"Oh- I apologize, I wasn't... watching where I was walking. Are your shoes damaged? I can replace them, if you wish."

Chasing back to the lost memories of things he's sat alone on the dock which rested on the bed of a lake he found a few weeks back. He had wanted to just feed the few ducks there but for some reason ended up mindlessly going through his sketchbook, trying to remember when he actually drew the few pictures which rested inside. His eyes stopped once he found the page of a rose-- it was a simple rose that he used for the base of the actual sketch, he remembers how he though an actual flower would bring the whole piece alive but even then he had't remembered that even plants don't last forever. The rose petals were still against the page as if it were stuck down with glue, the outer sides were wilted with many rips going though the edges of them but the center still remained alive and red. He wonders to why that was so, but he couldn't find an answer for it though his mind lingered in thought still.

humans and all people alike -- the core of you still have some life in it even if the rest is dead.

The time had escaped Maine of course as he went on and glanced at every page, and he could see the clouds grow heavy with dark grey's figuring it was about to rain as well as get dark, so he picked up all of his stuff making sure to be careful of falling into the water only to bump into someone who either wasn't paying any mind that they weren't the only one leaving or weren't here for the lake but for him. His things laid there on the wooden surfaces of the deck, sighing to himself he bends down and starts to pick it all up once again grumbling silently before speaking, not bothering to look up as he did it . 

jongsthetic replied to your post:jongsthetic replied to your post:jongsthetic...

Is your obsession with bubble tea equivalent to my obsession with coffee?

    [ ⇝ ] Han does not receive the first call for help, the red and yellow notice on his screen remaining unseen until it's too late.

    The second call goes through, and when he picks up he can hear the sound of gunfire in the distance. There is a scream. Someone who calls his alter ego's name. Fear.

    "I'll be right there," he hisses into the receiver, hurrying off to wherever he needs to be.

Recalling the numerous goodbyes that were exchanged, one after another. Backs turning without glancing over the shoulder almost out of regret, words of protest weren’t slipping out either. They usually let it go. That’s how it usually was, she counts the first five times. Memorizing the way their actions were and she lost track after that because she grown used to saying goodbye to a male she occasionally ends up seeing once again. Naeun doesn’t know how it happens, sometimes, she wonders if this is his way of checking her patience with him. It isn’t.

For once, after all these three years of having other people leave her, Jongin never gave her an exact reason to why he ends up crossing paths with her.

And Naeun was left at a loss of words. Never finding a good reason to begin with.

She kept previous messages, frequently checking them out of habit. Temptation to leave a message herself or a voicemail, call him to see how he was doing but only to hang up after the third ring. The anxious feeling settles back into the pit of her stomach at the thought. What to do, what to say; one inquiry after another and she was left with doing absolutely nothing but debating over -- nothing. But there’s a voice that crawls up to her suddenly, a simple guessing game of who she was and when she hears her name instinctively her head turns to face that direction to where the owner of the voice was. The young woman was sitting there, doing absolutely nothing but place her sketchpad on the table in front and a pencil in hand along with her phone. And it becomes ironic, to how they meet unexpectedly every single time without scheduling it.