#tmtnosce

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      everything is so mordant. perfidy and affliction maul his deficient little heart only familiar with benign and magnanimity, never ache -- alas, his time of ordeal has come forth and so he is ought to writhe along. it is his time, he confides, to feel at last how wretched this world is ; once a loved one puncturing a poniard through the midst of one’s heart, and one a loved one with familiar perfervid no longer views him as if he is the stars in the canopies themselves… the anguish is so rueful, so candid, so inchoate, that he feels as if he thawing in his imponderable bewailing.

       vaporous material of dulcet cotton, the mellowest ( however not as soft as kim himself ) is now saturated with his tears. conception of time is forsaken, he no longer acquires how time impel forth and what hour it is -- pitch dark, saturnine psyche, and he has been weeping for what felt like forever. no amount of incalculable love divulgements, of osculations upon his erubescent malars and warm embraces can conciliate him now ; he’s augmented a juncture where he’s disintegrated. all the obscenity, all the duress, the pungency and the woe now too vehement to be conglomerated inside of him ( nevertheless having a vast capacity in his heart ) that he cannot terminate his lachrymation no more.

       he has been bleating for years, for decades -- now obsolete in the fathomless reservoir of lamenting until his crestfallen little heart ceases to sense anything. thence, kim’s arms and mellifluous tone of vox ascend his chest and now he can sense ebullience once again. incandescence ?  perhaps. albeit, no longer perplexed in the affliction. now, his limbs soften and his voice is hoarse with the inestimable bawling -- he articulates, the slightest allusion of a simper in his silvery voice as he enunciates, recalling of pecuniary of moments when their liaison first burgeoned.      ❛   yeah, i remember it too…   ❜      

       ❛   i always thought that first kisses were like in movies -- they took your breath away, sparks flying around, romantic music and exciting feelings...  but when we first kissed, kim… i….   ❜      elijah heaves a tempestuous respiration, leering with rapture at the reminiscence of kim’s svelte bordures against his own saccharine ones, shifting and molding into ardent lasciviousness as they share their furtiveness together, their intemperance, their endearment for one another that has developed so perfervidly thenceforthm weeks of impertinently inquisitive foramens and lingering inclinations.      ❛   found peace. it wasn’t a grandiose moment -- you made me feel calm, at place… i felt grounded like it was my home in your arms.   ❜       all sentiments which are candid now foster atop him countenance ; complaisant, forbearing of the man who holds him close. in the pitch gauntness of the bedroom he evinces kim’s lenient orbs and liquefies, dissolves into his quintessence as if conveys by the utmost resilient of swathes.      ❛   i wanted to kiss you for so long, and when we were finally together alone i, gosh… i will never forget how it felt like kissing you for the first time.   ❜      

       ❛   if i could go back in time,   ❜      he proceeds after an expeditious moment of satiated quietude.      ❛   i’d kiss you again, sooner --    ❜      oh, he yearns so -- to go back in time and embed all the gaffes he has committed with kim, articulate for himself when necessitate, and love this man all over again like he should be loved ; the governor of his heart, of his soul, of his body and mind. this man, his man, grasps him ever so delicately and makes him feel whole once more. his rupture has desiccated upon his facade -- trailing streams of woe now mollified upon his malars, salinity tarrying to his florid petals as he presses a zealous buss atop his man’s cheek once more, a hand on a perpendicular one to poise chaste equipoise. in the tone of his euphonious vox is it manifest of how vast the covet he senses for kim genuinely is ; endless. he is now a part of elijah -- a part of him to never be lacerate, never be splintered; his soul and his heart, the vigor sermonized and sojourned within his cadaver. his light.

source    :    open    :    @tmtnosce

E:  are  they  the  happiest  they’ve  ever  been  ?      

yes.  most  definitely  yes.  although  far  from  home  and  father  still  sick,  elijah  fell  deeply  in  love  and  that  love,  despite  the  hardships,  fills  him  with  emotions  he’s  never  felt  before  –  although  romanticizing  the  world  and  romance,  he  now  realizes  with  each  day  the  truth  about  love  as  an  emotion  and  as  a  devotion  to  the  relationship  he’s  committed  in.  despite  all  the  hardships,  elijah  finds  it  within  himself  to  have  ever  more  strength  to  pull  through  being  in  a  foreign  country  all  anew.  his  father  is  getting  better  at  most  months,  he’s  gained  such  close  friends,  and  a  man  that  he  believes  wholeheartedly  is  the  love  of  his  life.  to  sum  it  up  -  yes,  he  is  the  happiest  he’s  ever  been  in  his  entire  twenty  years  of  life.  

L:  how  often  do  they  post  on  their  social  media  accounts  ?

he  has  a  rather  moderate  activity  –  somewhere  along  twice  or  thrice  a  week.  he  is  the  type  to  stick  to  a  certain  aesthetic  and  the  one  which  he  has  can  be  summed  in  one  sentence  :  the  zealous  and  soft  aristocrat  /  literature  enthusiasm  with  an  affinity  to  vintage  and  clean  landscapes.  pretty  much  his  entire  aesthetics  right  there  in  that  sentence  –  he  posts  of  buildings  and  landscapes  that  he  finds  aesthetically  pleasing,  of  his  favorite  books,  and  occasionally  selfies  of  his  outfits  and  pictures  with  (  or  of  )  friends  and  family.  he  is  the  type  to  post  twice  or  thrice  a  week,  but  when  he  posts  on  his  instagram  account  it’s  one  of  those  posts  with  several  pictures  to  it  –  since  he  just  cannot  pick  one.  on  another  platform  (  twitter  )  he  posts  every  other  day.  his  posts  there  contain  of  quotes  he  loves,  inspiring  sentences,  and  overall  his  vibe  is  very  bright  as  he  attempts  to  spread  positivity  as  much  as  possible.  

I:  in  general,  are  they  organized  or  messy  ?  

some  people  are  either  sides  of  the  extreme  but  elijah  isn’t  quite  organized  or  messy.  granted,  he  cannot  focus  when  documents  and  miscellaneous  objects  are  scattered  around  his  desk  but  he  does  enjoy  a  small  clutter  –  several  items  like  notebooks  and  sticky  notes  around  his  desktop,  laptop  aligned  rather  than  being  laid  straight  and  neat,  pens  and  highlighters  over  his  textbooks,  some  magazines  at  his  bedside  table,  and  most  importantly  :  books  he’s  read  or  planning  on  reading  scattered  around  –  they  don’t  belong  in  the  shelf  for  display  but  rather  should  be  used  and  adored,  that’s  how  he  sees  the  matter.  he’s  overly  more  organized  than  messy  but  still  enjoys  this  small  clutter  around  his  room.  to  be  frank,  he  studies  in  his  father’s  study  room  because  the  main  tends  to  clean  and  organize  it  more  than  often  and  he  finds  the  way  it’s  so  neat  and  minimalistic  impelling  his  mind  for  creativity  and  motivation  to  study.  (  it’s  just  that  whenever  he’s  at  his  room  or  the  living  room  he’s  too  tempted  reading  his  books  rather  than  studying  ).

when  it  comes  to  other  matters  like  eating,  his  bedroom  overall,  using  various  items  around  the  house  –  he  tends  to  tidy  after  himself  ;  he  always  picks  up  his  plates,  hangs  his  clothes  in  his  closet,  puts  things  he’s  taken  from  one  spot  to  the  other  back  in  place.  his  father  reminds  him  that  there  are  two  hired  housemaids  for  such  things,  but  elijah  doesn’t  want  to  burden  them  too  much  so  he  does  the  bare  minimum  like  picking  up  his  own  plate  and  tidying  his  bed  when  he  gets  up  in  the  morning  –  but  he  always  finds  his  stuff  being  organized  again  (  only  to  be  scattered  because,  again,  his  books  do  not  belong  in  the  shelf  for  display  ).  

J:  what  is  their  most  irrational  fear  ?  

arguably,  failure.  although  his  father  loves  him  dearly  he  (  unintentionally  )  has  out  immense  pressure  on  his  son  ever  since  infancy  to  prosper,  to  excel,  to  be  the  top.  due  to  such  high  expectations,  elijah  has  learned  to  always  aim  to  be  number  one  and  never  number  two,  a  thing  which  cost  him  in  his  own  happiness  and  needs  as  he  always  attempts  to  satisfy  others,  and  often  finds  himself  wounded  over  it.  he’s  afraid  of  not  being  good  enough,  of  not  exceeding  expectations,  of  being  a  failure.  it  is  arguably  an  irrational  fear  because  while  many  fear  failure,  it  seems  the  degrees  of  dread  within  him  are  way  too  extreme  to  be  healthy  –  reason  why  he  would  exert  himself  just  to  prove  himself  the  best,  to  satiate  others.

H:  who  texts  /  calls  them  the  most  ?

although  i  would  like  to  believe  it  is  kim,  it  is  actually  his  father.  elijah  speaks  to  his  boyfriend  more  or  less  regularly,  but  he  updates  his  father  with  everything  that  he  does.  you  see,  his  father  is  so  overprotective  of  him  that  it  is  kind  of  difficult  to  pull  back  –  although  he  gives  elijah  some  independence  it  isn’t  quite  full  or  genuine  ;  he  hardly  allows  elijah  to  drive  himself  to  university,  doesn’t  let  im  work  too  hard,  cook  his  meals…  he  always  checks  up  on  him.  he  doesn’t  do  that  from  a  place  of  mistrust  in  his  son  it  is  only  that  he  is  the  only  family  he  has  left  and  that  elijah  reminds  his  mother  so  much  that  the  father  is  so  overprotective  of  his  son.  

A:  who  are  their  exes  ?  do  they  still  keep  in  touch  ?  

initiate mun monday  !

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      ❛    i  did  not  !    ❜  

      are  lies  enough  to  conceal  the  axiom,  are  they  when  his  pupils  are  dilated  and  his  orbs  are  incarnadined  and  his  countenance  wails  of  guilt  ?  are  lies  enough  to  mask  truth  ever  so  evident,  accusations  verifiable  and  vindicated  when  his  heedless  misconduct  has  led  him  to  this  very  point  of  confrontation  ?  seunghwa  knows  of  the  answer  –  he  knows  that  his  guilt  is  manifest,  he  knows  that  he  is  indeed  blameworthy  and  should  receive  the  proper  retribution  for  his  mischief,  for  his  misconduct…  then  why  does  he  lie  with  immense  brazenness  ?  how  come  he  is  so  dreadful  of  avowing  that  he  has  wronged  and  impaired  principles  indoctrinated  by  his  older  brother  ?

      had  seungjae  not  rapaciously  expressed  his  (  rather  credible  )  irascibility  with  him,  perhaps  seunghwa  would  have  felt  safer  to  elucidate  his  emotions  and  avow  of  his  malfeasance.  albeit,  whenever  his  lips  parts  to  whispers  of  candid  sentiments  the  reminiscences  flash  right  before  his  eyes  ;  blood,  pique,  seething  infuriation  that  thudded  him  onto  the  floor  and  twinge  so  abrupt  and  sharp  he  can  hardly  recall  what  it  feels  like  to  be  sheltered  once  more.  acquiring  that  seungjae’s  choler  is  rightful  and  that  he  in  fact  did  deserve  this  barbarous  treatment  is  one  things…  being  able  to  overcome  the  dolor  and  affront  is  another.  and  so,  the  adolescent  is  left  with  no  other  choice  but  to  fabricate  tales  for  his  brother’s  ears  to  hearken  to  perhaps  satiate  the  need  of  hearing  that  his  precious  baby  bother  (  the  one  he  had  raised  him  by  the  price  of  his  own  sanity  and  exhilaration,  one  who  he  had  cultivated  him  to  prosper  into  an  accountable  matriculant  )  has  never  derailed  from  the  faultless  path.  that  he  has  never  misdemeaned  –  even  if  those  are  prominent  swindles.

source    :    closed    :    @tmtnosce

      he  is  plasticine  ;  pliable  and  prompted  to  be  molded  into  any  embodiment    –  press  your  fingers  through  his  svelte  form,  anamorpous,  and  imprint  your  kisses  through  his  ubiety,  existing  solely  for  you  and  your  pleasure  –  damp  clay,  morphed  and  shaped  to  your  own  desires  and  satiation.  a  boy  who  loves  you  in  dimensions  imperceivable,  for  when  your  gazes  lock  you  find  yourself  breathless  as  if  he  had  shoved  his  hand  through  your  throat  down  your  larynx  and  grasp  each  and  every  last  atom  of  oxygen  your  lungs  occupied.

      your  eyes  are  ebony  as  starless  canopies  –  eclipse  mantling  earth  with  tenebrosity,  pitch  black  that  consumes  him  whole  and  causes  him  to  thaw,  to  lose  shape,  to  dissolve  into  the  imponderable  subsistence  of  your  black  eyes.  sombreness  so  colossal,  so  vehement,  so  capitulating…  he  is  evidently  macerating  when  you  hold  him  dear  and  flush  against  your  torso  (  and  your  long  arms  are  wrapped  tightly  around  his  svelte  form  that  he  cannot  escape  –  alas,  neither  does  he  want  to  escape  your  fervid  embrace  )  so  you  ought  catch  him.  capture  him  and  hold  him  dear  –  do  not  let  go,  he  slips  between  your  digits  and  deliquesces  perpetually.  

      you  grab  him  and  kiss  him  like  he  is  yours  because  you  know  that  he  is  yours.  because  you  know  he  won’t  be  able  to  spurn  or  say  no  to  you,  adhered,  infatuated  by  your  leer.  you  know  that  he  does  not  yearn  to  say  no,  either  –  if  anything,  his  glistening  eyes  wail  ebulliently  that  it  nearly  a  tangible  sensation  ‘ take  me,  my  lover,  take  me  and  make  me  yours  for  the  whole  world  to  know. ’  and  you  accede.  you  accede  for  there  is  not  sufficient  vigor  nor  verve  within  you  to  refuse  this  petite  god  that  is  captured  in  your  embrace  for  his  eyes  luster  at  you  solely  as  if  you  are  his  sun  and  he  is  a  mere  star  orbiting  around  you  staunchly  until  you  kindle  him.  you  comply  because  the  flavor  of  his  lips  is  so  divine  that  words  like  luscious,  scrumptious,  saccharine,  addictive…  they  are  not  enough.  not  enough  to  portray  the  type  of  conflagration  which  pools  in  your  abdomen,  ardor  setting  you  ablaze,  when  you  kiss  your  little  god  and  run  your  hands  around  his  delicate  petite  waist  and  grasp  onto  him  for  he  is  yours.  yours  only,  yours.  yours  forever.  just  yours.  

       he  is  yours.

       and  then  he  whispers  your  name  and  you  swear  that  until  this  very  moment  you  never  thought  your  name  could  be  anything  more  than  lackluster,  noxious,  banal.  now  you  hear  your  name  and  you  think  to  yourself  ‘ wow,  is  this  boy  even  real  ? ‘  vox  of  sirens,  face  of  seraphs,  liasion  so  delicate  when  he  gingerly  cups  your  malars  and  pulls  you  closer  because  (  you  can  determine  so  through  the  way  he  ardently  and  zealously  kisses  you  once  again  )  he  needs  you.  and  you  know  that  he  needs  you  –  he’s  whispered  it  numerous  nights  as  your  limbs  were  tangled  tightly  and  you  decanted  your  covet  inside  of  him,  denuded  him  with  febrile  and  perfervid  adoration  that  he’s  implored  you  to,  that  he’s  sworn  to  be  only  satisfactory  when  it’s  from  you.  because  he  loves  you  –  his  man,  you’re  his  man  and  he  loves  you.  

      he  loves  you.  

      and  your  lips  are  the  softest  ;  of  fractured  silk  caressed  by  humid  vapor  penetrating  through  his  nostrils  into  his  psyche,  caressed  by  mint  flavored  chapstick,  fragments  of  broken  boy  betrayed  by  the  ones  he  loved  most  –  now  mollified  and  mended  whole  back  again  with  this  little  piece  of  heaven  captured  between  your  arms.  in  the  utmost  squelched  susurration,  as  your  lips  parts  from  the  zealous  kiss,  he  implores  you  to  make  love  to  him  and  you  assent.  you  submit,  you  give  in  to  your  greek  god  like  boy.  

source    :    open    :    @tmtnosce

source    :    open    :    @tmtnosce

      jaekyung  is  left  handed,  meaning  it  is  harder  for  him  to  find  suitable  guitars  both  in  comfort,  sound,  and  style.  over  the  course  of  years  he  has  been  in  bands,  including  the  one  before  WNDLND,  he  has  come  to  own  five  guitars.  jaekyung  takes  care  of  his  guitars  as  if  they  were  his  daughters  (  no  exaggeration  in  the  phrasing,  he  truly  views  them  as  his  daughters  )  and  is  very  solicitous  towards  the  staff  members  carrying  them  around  between  one  performance  to  the  other  –  at  the  practice  room,  he  places  them  in  a  special  cabinet  where  only  he  and  the  manager  have  the  key  to,  since  he  is  so  neurotic  to  maintain  them  for  a  long  while.        *  tip:  click  on  names  for  pictures