#kasiun

@kasiun​:

Jongin was no Bruno Mars, (not even close, considering he’s merely a sub-vocalist and his talents lay almost entirely in his dance skill) but still, his ego regarded her criticism as entirely too harsh. His gaze falls onto her with insult radiating from it, music pausing to be sure his voice is heard. “Excuse me, what do you mean my 24K Magic rendition sounds like death? I’ll have you know that hurt me. Straight to the heart, I’m crumbling inside. Darn you, Jang Yeeun.”

❝ Ayy, ayyyy, you’re being so dramatic, again! ❞ She huffed at him and snatched the remaining earbud that was on the older male’s ears. Then, she took the phone that was in his hands and started to scroll down the music list.  ❝ Why does your music consist of only trot songs, Kai oppa... ❞ she mumbles, hoping he didn’t hear it though it was obvious that he did, explaining the subtle scoff that came from the male. ❝ Your songs suck, they aren’t my type! I’m not gonna sing this time, then. ❞ she stuck her tongue out.

“Ah, 형, don’t be weird.” The words drag out in a low complaint, his expression twisting with taut eyebrows and a scrunched up nose to mark his distaste — there’s a slight smile there, too, but he tries to play it off.

Drinking games. They usually ended in his favour. This could be attributed to the fact that he’d drink far less than his company and was left significantly more sober, or, at the very least, sober enough to take advantage of the loopholes they were missing while impaired. Leave it to Kibum, though, to still manage to pull the wool over his eyes. Jongin marked his defeat in the game they were playing once already, swallowing his pride to mumble the ‘alright, alright, you beat me’ that’d been requested of him, but that hadn’t been enough for the older of the two, who had suddenly whipped out his phone to catch the admission on camera instead.

“Kibum 형 won…” He speaks into the phone’s camera this time, low, shameful (he’d never been one to enjoy admitting defeat, even in innocent little table games) and his head tilting over to the side to eye the male. Although he was trying his best to maintain a serious expression, the amused glint in his eyes threatens to shape them up into lighthearted crescents instead. “Is that enough stroking for your ego now? Put the camera away.”

`ㅂ´ ┊ Weird would be Kibum’s middle name, but he’d prefer the word— “Excentrique~ I’m--" Too much emphasis is put on his person, on the French expression he’d pressed forward, but it doesn’t feel like enough when pale ale sloshes through his system so he tosses himself forward, over the table. “--excentrique. Weird is too mainstream, everyone’s weird. When everyone’s weird, no one is. And doesn’t French words suit me. Like, a lot.” Epiphany is feigned, thin eyes because wow, French words felt like sugar spice and everything nice between his lips.

Commands and awful demands fall on deaf ears- as per usual considering Kibum, on a good day is about as dense as a pearly oyster, age and praise had subdued him but old habits die at the bottom of a bottle. Speaking of bottles, he’s flirting with tipsy and intoxication. Actions wrestle to speak louder than his slurred syllables, woozy Leica-- precious gold in Kibum’s eyes, he had to be off the handle to handle (no pun intended) it so carelessly (large wide and sharp hands don’t fail him now!). Leica has Kim Jongin within it’s eye, flipped turned upside down, somehow, an actual improvement from the unflattering angles he’d been filing previously. “Awwww~~ Jongni, why are you acting like it’s water torture? Am I a nuisance?” The nuisance is pouting, peach tinged lips puffed as chiseled chin tucked into a hand. The pout quivers into a grin though because, really, his ego could never be stroked enough.

“Not on my watch.” Jongin’s competitiveness while gaming bordered on unhealthy; his fingers smashing against keys briskly, eyebrows furrowed and eyes pointed with distinct concentration paid to the screen. The lobby he’d been playing in wasn’t his own (having just jumped in the middle of Sehun’s game when the other had gotten up for food) and for that reason, he wasn’t sure who he was currently playing against, the IDs all unfamiliar to him. What he did know, though, was that the mocking voice of the female on the other end spurred him into unleashing his best combinations on her in an attempt to regain the lead, a triumphant howl echoing into the headset when his tactic proves effective.

“Guess it’s my dust you’ll be eating, huh?” His tone is as smug as ever, but the round isn’t over yet, so he mentally makes note to not get ahead of himself. Settling down with his attention brought back to the screen, he tries to implement his next plan of attack, but he finds himself growing distracted. The more the female’s voice came through, the more the tone was ringing familiar to him, until finally, he pieces together a face to match it. “Jen… Jennie? It’s Jennie, isn’t it?”

Eyes were entranced by the screen before her, unable to neglect the sight of her game as she watched her opponent prepare his next line of attack. Even with a keen desire to win and the utmost attempts to defend her character from his wrath, there was no outwitting the skilled strike of her foe, severely damaging her health thus eliciting an agitated groan. Jennie thought rapidly, devising a plan to fire back and once more regain her position of dominance, ignorant to the shift of voices that took place as she was too caught up in satisfying her hunger for victory. “You better watch it,” she threatened, preparing herself to blast Jongin’s confidence out the window.

COMFORTABLE SILENCE FILLED THE CAB on the way home from the airport. The two men, among others, came back from Paris where filming took place, but since both were headed to a hotel in Sinsa-dong, they decided to split the bill. It was too late at night for Junseo to try to trek it back to his place and figured that a decent hotel would be fine. Meanwhile, mumbles filled the external group that the other was going to meet up with his equally popular ex-girlfriend, but Junseo didn’t think it was the case.

PRETTY CITY ASKS: accepting !»  @kasiun

milan: how do you think others describe you?

eccentric? energetic, a kid at heart.

chicago: what do you ache for?

she thinks of headaches, stomachaches (heartache).

an ache.  there’s always some sort of pain that comes with that, doesn’t it? a discomfort.  an unwanted feeling.  it’s something that doesn’t come easily.

+ character development questions.status: accepting • for @kasiun

14. Do they take control or give control or do they believe in sharing power? What are their thoughts on control versus submission (either sexually or in relationships in general)? What do they think of authority?

Being very Aries, Junseo rarely gives any person in his life full control, and will more often than not, take control, if subtly in the least. He is also under the belief that authority is meant to lead and to protect and if authority fails to do either, they can no longer assume control of anything.

20. What does your muse think of secrets? Do they keep many or a few and what is their motivation to keep something secret? Have they ever been hurt by a secret someone else kept from them?

One step. Two steps. Three ste--a wall. More specifically, wall covered by shelves upon shelves, all containing a whole lot of objects that, although interesting looking, in grand majority were of unknown purpose to Yongguk. There were some art pieces, strange figurines that looked half-broken, lamps that seemed to belong to a whole another century, books that had most likely gone by many, many pairs of hands before getting there... He had been at a flea market as a kid a few times and if his memory served him right, this pretty much looked like a condensed version of those, all cramped into a way too small of a space to properly exhibit every piece. 

It was a curious place. A nice place. Unexpected, considering it was situated right in the middle of Seoul, a big metropoly that seemingly had no room for anything other than corporate and mainstream entertainment buildings. Most of all, it was a strange place for Yongguk to find himself at this time, in this situation, with this company.

“Please, explain to me -- just one reason, really -- why am I hiding with you in this tiny shop.” He asked, although it was more of a demand (a polite one, yet still a demand nonetheless), throwing the fellow idol a pointed, doubtful look somewhere along the way of his eyes trying to take in their surroundings. He could’ve probably just stood there and stared around for hours, and still not notice nor understand all the details of this shop. He wasn’t nearly as annoyed with the situation as he might’ve come off as. 

“Not that I’m complaining about the shop itself.” Came the vocal reflection just a split second later, as Yongguk turned towards the elderly lady who might’ve as well been the owner, by the look of her slowly and comfortably moving some things around. She seemed to know exactly where and what was placed, which Yongguk had no idea how was even possible. “But,” his attention shifted back to Jongin, standing probably closer than he ever had been, due to the lack of actual space in the farthest corner of the store, as far from the entrance and windows as possible. “It’s kind of really awkward. Shouldn’t you be used to dealing with your fans by now? I mean, I know you’re probably in one of the few groups that have it the worst, but... They’re your fans. Deal with them.” Yongguk was rather glad that his own fans were rather rensponsible and, well, sane, most of the time; he felt for groups like EXO or, back in the days, DBSK, who had to deal with all kinds of fans-related nuances, he really did... But he wasn’t very used to being pulled right into the fire of said condition.