#vxtiosus

“what, you want me to strip down and dance for you? because we both know i will do that”, a wide grins appears onto hiroto’s lips, corners of his eyes twinkling in a manner that is all but good sign. “i am bored too, though seeing your grumpy face lights up any room.” he doesn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes a little, crumpling up a paper he has been trying to make sense of for the past… hour or so ( – this is why you have accountants, they make sense of math and numbers in general, and in his defense, he did have one! but how on earth could have he known that the poor man was deadly allergic werewolf fur. who the hell is allergic to that? ) ; and proceeds to toss it towards  the other.

     Dorian had seen them come and go over the years but more frequently now as he caught them out of the corner of his eye following the chief. His gaze would linger, fingers curled around his second or third cup of coffee for the day as he tried to imagine what they were like, their frame was enough to garner his interest. But someone that was brought in for consultations, well surely they wouldn’t be caught d e a d socializing with people like Dorian, people who didn’t wear suits and ties. His lips lilted crookedly at the thought before he turned back toward his own case file, sitting down for the day as he flipped through the paperwork to try and find connections, looking back over the evidence they’d collected throughout the months of grueling field work.

     Crushed coffee cups littered the trashcan by his desk as he ran a hand through his hair, brows furrowing as the indent between them only grew deeper. At least until the door of his chief’s office opened and he glanced up curiously, the old man with their balding salt and pepper hair, crows feet stretching out from their eyes, came walking toward him. They smelled faintly of mothballs and cheap cologne, another failing marriage brought on by too much drinking and not enough time spent at home, their wedding band long since gone but the skin beneath still hadn’t tanned to match what the ring hadn’t covered. It almost made Dorian feel bad for the man, but his father had told him one too many tales of the chief that changed his viewpoint on the man, unfavorably.

     “Chae, grab that case file.” The chief called out, gesturing with pudgy hands for the detective to follow them as he sighed, gathering his belonging pertaining to the case before he slipped out into the hall. “I have someone here I want you to meet, figured since you know the most about the case you’d be able to help our guest put some pieces together.” Their voice was rough, gravely at times from years of too many cigarettes and heavy drinking, a voice that reminded him of his football coach back in high school that would always call him out for petty things. No one did like the son of a detective back then. 

( Send 🌟 for a headcanon about our muses’ relationship )

“The blossom will be here soon..” Tian mutters softly to his opponent, as long fingers gently trace over the mahjong tiles in his collection, as he mulls over the next move for the game sprawled out before him. The Mandarin licks at his tongue and passes his lips fast and natural, as he easily slips back into the voice of his native home, having missed it’s quick, sing-song sounds. Selecting his tile of choice, dark eyes lift to gaze back at his opponent, before he slowly lays it with a click of the plastic against the game board and his fingers retreat. The setting was idilic, the early chills of spring on gentle winds playing with the ends of his long hair, as he sits wrapped in a scarf and thick cardigan, at one of the playing tables in Seoul’s inner city park. A little haven in the busy, noisy city and a little China in the heart of Korea between the two foreigners. 

He raises an eyebrow at the answer and hummed. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that being the answer.” He chuckles before hearing the next part and smirking slightly. “Oh, you’ve been able to remind me of that sensitivity that I possess. It’s probably because of the attraction to it that I can’t help but smell it.” He shakes his head before huffing at the answer he receives. “Aw, we’re not past the secrets phase? Damn. I’m never going to be rid of this curiosity, am I?” He pouts playfully as he peeks over his shoulder at the pan of steaks.

Yu Hue simply looked at him for a moment.  It was an interesting piece of conversation, but she wasn’t quite sure what she thought of the topic at hand. “I can see where you are coming from.  There are some artists such as Van Gogh who as you know, hurt deeply and created amazing art, but there are some that know no pain.  Sure, we have quiet a few that did.  Beethoven, Munch and so forth.  I knew of a few back in my early days that would have stabbed themselves in the gut if it meant their work were to be viewed by royalty, but I... I just feel like the tortured artist thing has come and gone.”

                      SEND A URL AND I WILL ANSWER THE FOLLOWING; [ ▲ ]

Do I Follow Them?: heck yeah, i mean we made these douche bags at the same time so how could I not? 

Why Did I Follow Them?: because this mun, this particular mun, is my lil piece of poop whom I love.  

Do We Role Play?: *sarcastic voice* no

Do I Want To Role Play With Them: ...? really? of course I do nOT 

An AU Idea For Our Muses: Well, part of me would like to write human Noah and Belus set in a time before all their corruption happened. I think it’d be an interesting change. 

A Song For Our Muses: 30 seconds to mars - 100 suns 

Do I Ship Our Muses?: In the past, yes but beah was conquered by seah so bye bye. Now I just ship their bitter anger :D

What I Think About The Mun: SHE IS A GLORIOUS AND GORGEOUS AND AMAZING LITTLE POO. 

Overall Opinion: Seriously though, Belus is an amazing muse written by an amazing mun and I’m sad that you’re not as active there anymore (please come back. I also think it’s very ironic that you sent this form another blog that’s also yours, you lameo.)