Agust D - λμ·¨ν
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Agust D - λμ·¨ν

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donniesmβ:
The long shifts were not getting any easier. The training was kicking his ass, literally and figuratively, and he figured that this was enough of an excuse to head to the local convenience store and fill his arms with calories that would make him feel better.Β
His plastic bag swung in his loose-fingered grip on his walk home, and in his other hand was ice cream. The sudden clatter from the alleyway made him jump, causing him to jerk and ice cream to smear across his cheek.
βJesus!β Donnie peered into the semi-darkness, frowning heavily.Β βWhatβd the garbage-can do to you? Oh, wait, here, whilst youβre at itββ He surged forward, dropping his empty wrapper onto the pile.
Saeran had picked through the garbage, tossing it back into the bin slowly as if to make it more of a punishment for themselves. Theyβd acted like a brat, like they had no self-control-- though with all of the instances of lost time they were experiencing, maybe they had less self-control than they had originally thought.Β The added garbage just made them sigh, heavily at that.Β βYou want to find out? Keep tossing shit over here.β Saeran snapped, though their tone was a warning. They really didnβt want to actually fight anyone, the urge to do something reckless was just becoming very tempting to cave into, and by the smells of it, this person really wouldnβt hold up well against Saeran in a fight anyway.Β
misbhavesβ:
Ever since Jae moved in, Maxxie rarely found himself out without his car. He rarely found himself out at all, his time much better spent at home sprawled over the couch with his petite lover between his arms. It wasnβt like he missed walking around the streets of Crystalline, which were stillΒ a little dirty from New Yearβs celebrations. Confetti marred countless sidewalks and heβd seen evenΒ more discarded bottles of liquor, poorly concealed in brown paper bags, than he usually did. But, every so often, work got so irritating that he couldnβt stand that itch anymore. The itch to go out, knock back a few drinks and cool the fuck down.
So far two out of three items on the list had been attended to. Which was⦠making progress, at least.
He lifted a cigarette to his painted lips, stained a faint autumn orange that made him look slightly less dead than he felt. His long, coated eyelashes cast shadows over his cheekbones as his gaze found the flame at the end of the cigarette. Brown eyes looked at slip of fire briefly before his thumb moved away and it was gone. The first inhale felt like a release, but the relief was short-lived, extinguishing immediately when his gaze lifted once more at the sound of something falling over and clocked the short, downtrodden figure in his way.Β
His lips curled into a frown, and he briefly considered walking away before they could see him. Then again, the freak probably had super scenting skills alongside their proclivity for murder and irritating the fuck out of him.
Multi-talented little fuck was like an all-purpose irritant.
βThat is so poetic,β He drawled, eyes dull and vacant as he watched Saeran clean after themselves.Β βAlmost autobiographical, really.β
βI knew I smelled something gross,β They had mumbled before they could stop themselves.Β
Saeran had never been Maxxieβs biggest fan, no matter how one spun it. There had been attempts on both parts (at some point) to salvage some sort of civility, but all of that was gone now. Saeran had a good habit of making messes and Maxxie had an even better habit of pointing them out.Β
The vampire let out a small huff. Well, they had wanted a fight. They just really didnβt like that it had to be Maxxie of all people. Jae being in a relationship with him complicated things-- any time the two quarreled it became very personal for Eun-Jae, despite Saeran caring very deeply for the pink-haired, soft individual. They held him almost to the same standard and Hoseok. Almost.Β
As the last of the garbage was tossed into the can and it was back in its original position, Saeran turned, wiping their palms on the front of their jeans. βWhatβs that supposed to mean?β Obviously, they knew what Maxxie was saying, but their lack of proper come back didnβt need to hang in the air. Over text message, it was easy to come up with things to say, but in person, Saeran often struggled to find the words that they needed.
Β© NECESSARILY

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Saeran tossed a cigarette down, crushing it beneath their boot and a scowl set on dark features. Itβd been a rough few days. They couldnβt even remember where they had been or what they had done, they just knew that it had left them feeling sour and itching with discomfort. the vampire almost wantedΒ conflict. It would resolve the tension between their shoulders, the itch to their palms.Β
They stepped away from the corner of the building theyβd been leaned against, hoping-- wishingΒ that someone would run into them. Give them a reason to snap.Β
Saeran wasnβt sure what was wrong, they just needed a release. They could have clawed at their skin or cried. What had they even been doingΒ before? The last time they couldnβt remember someone died.Β
When the seas of people continued to part around them, Saeran couldnβt help the groan that parted their lips. They turned, kicking the closest trash bin over. It helped just a touch before the immediate guilt hit them-- littering was a really gross thing to do.Β
So, they knelt down, picking up the mess theyβd made.Β
xsvervnβ:
Saeran had been in the middle of a game, their hair tied back from their face, a hoodie the only thing covering their otherwise bare torse rested unzipped on their shoulders, black sweatpants with various phrases scribbled in white across them. This was the first moment of calm and relaxation that theyβd had in a moment. They werenβt shaking from hunger, their brain had totally shut out their usual nagging unrest over literally everything, and for once they just feltβ¦ okay. That was until there was a knock on the door of the motel theyβd been hanging out in the last few days.Β Saeran tossed the controller down, hands running through a mess of dark hair as they climbed from their spot at the poorly made bed and walked to the door. One hand tugged the zipper up as the door was yanked openβ for their five feet three inches Saeran certainly had a personality.Β βwhaββ They broke off, eyes centering on Hank, confusion being the prevailing emotion at that moment.Β βUhβ¦ well, Iβm not sure how you found me all the way out hereβ¦ this isnβt my usual place, ah, obviouslyβ¦β They trailed off, stepping back to pull the door the rest of the way open.Β βCome inβ¦?βΒ
He wanted to be wrong, he wanted to be wrong, he wanted to be wrong. That was the only thing in Hankβs mind: how much he wanted, needed to be wrong about all of it; How much he wanted, needed, to have gotten the wrong person, to haveΒ misunderstood Saeranβs involvement with the fires in any way, shape or form.Β
This kid was the kid that got in trouble every now and again, the kid that he didnβt mind helping out, the kid Hank would take a fall for just so they would be safe. The Syndicate couldnβt have corrupted them. Hank had to be wrong.
With a small nod, he makes his way inside, lacking words, lacking courage to voice his accusations. His eyes wander, towards the bed, the videogame, the details around the hotel room.Β β Iβve been a policeman for more than twenty years now, I can find someone when Iβm looking for them, Saeran. β and it wasnβt supposed to sound like a threat, it wasnβt supposed to come out like I will find you if you run, but it did.
He wanted to be wrong so goddamn badly, all Hank needed was an excuse to look elsewhere, a pretext to find someone else to put this on.Β β Saeran, what were you doing the night of the fires ? Where were you ? β
If Saeran could have felt blood run cold, it would have. If their heart hadnβt stopped so long ago, it would have. They felt faint and once the door was closed they stood, frozen on the spot with their back turned to the man.
The man who had basically played this fatherly role in their life for so many years. His tone was... hardened. Scary. One they had never really been on the receiving end of.
A trembling hand raised to run through the stray strands of hair as they finally turned, their brain trying to come up with an answer. Something that would make sense.
Hank knew they lied to him, they could see it on his face when he caught on.
But did he want the truth.
βUm... Iβm not sure what you mean.β Saeran said finally, their eyes not quiet landing on Hank as they thought quickly. Nausea was a prevailing feeling.
That and fear.
They didnβt want to disappoint another person.
βFires?β
Shit, that was lame. But they needed to buy time. To figure out an answer.
οΌ³ο½ο½ο½ οΌο½ο½ο½ο½ο½ο½οΌΒ ππππ ππππ
β yoongi lockscreens
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he knocks twice. calmly waits at the door. hank knew already which group of criminals was responsible for setting the city on fire. they piratically signed their names at the end of the chaos, virtually claimed ownership of the wreck they had turned crystalline in. ( he failed to see how to someone could attach themselves to that group and still think they were in the right. )Β but it didnβt really matter.
not what he knew, not how proud the criminals were of it, not how unfit to deal with the situation his officers were, none of it change anything at the end of the day. what was right was still right. the law was still the law. and so, he opened an investigation, all the same, as if it was any ordinary crime. workedΒ to follow clues, get people on the case, take accounts from any and all witnesses they could find. the personal need to stay at the top of it all instead of letting other officers deal with it was mostly due to fear. hank could take a hit from a mutant, he could end up at a hospital. his officers, on the other hand, had families, girlfriends, boyfriends, children, lives that would be could wrecked, ruined. he wouldnβt let that happen.
all the clues led to that place. hank made sure to be the one there going there, by himself, so no one else would be harmed in the process. ββ when owner of the place finally opened the door for him, he removed his glasses, attempt a small smile.Β βΒ hello, hm, good morning, iβm sheriff roosevelt, i was wondering if you could answer a few questions ? iβll try not to take up too much of your timeΒ β
Saeran had been in the middle of a game, their hair tied back from their face, a hoodie the only thing covering their otherwise bare torse rested unzipped on their shoulders, black sweatpants with various phrases scribbled in white across them. This was the first moment of calm and relaxation that theyβd had in a moment. They werenβt shaking from hunger, their brain had totally shut out their usual nagging unrest over literally everything, and for once they just felt... okay. That was until there was a knock on the door of the motel theyβd been hanging out in the last few days.Β Saeran tossed the controller down, hands running through a mess of dark hair as they climbed from their spot at the poorly made bed and walked to the door. One hand tugged the zipper up as the door was yanked open-- for their five feet three inches Saeran certainly had a personality.Β βwha--β They broke off, eyes centering on Hank, confusion being the prevailing emotion at that moment.Β βUh... well, Iβm not sure how you found me all the way out here... this isnβt my usual place, ah, obviously...β They trailed off, stepping back to pull the door the rest of the way open.Β βCome in...?βΒ
xsvervnβ:
βAhβ¦ thatβsβ¦β They said, hands rubbing over their features as they tried toΒ get it together. βMy life isnβt going so great is all,β Saeran said finally, stretching as if that would sober them up some. Talking to other people was hard enough, they didnβt need their words slurring over one another on top of their obvious lisp. βIβm living with a friend but he doesnβt really need me?β
βOh, thatβs good,β She commented bluntly, taking another sip of her drink and leaning forward in her seat.Β βItβs terrible to be needed. I was with the nicest old fellow for a few years, but he was so very clingy that I just had to, you know,β She gestured scissors snapping.Β βCut him off. But youΒ seem awfully unhappy about it. Is it really a friend?β
Hoseok and Saeran has always been closeβ Saeran often believed that they were soulmatesβ and though the two tended to cling to each other emotionally, Saeran had never considered them to be anything more. None the less, they found their features going a dark red, shaking their head quickly. βNo, just friends. Heβs just... like... family. I donβt... wanna lose him and I feel like ifβ if he stops needing me then he absolutely might leave me and thatβs justβjust not what I want.β
everyone be quiet yoongi is going to sleep
They were huddled beneath blankets, armβs holding a black mass of fur close to their chest as they sort of zoned in and out of focus, vaguely considering the fact that they had spent most of the day this way. That was what eternal life was like, though. Hours would tick by like moments, their mind not processing time and its constant changes becauseβ¦ well, they didnβt need to.Β
There was no fear of running out of time, of losing, when they had all of it to spare.Β
But it was when they heard their friend shifting around somewhere in their home that they blinked slowly as if waking up from a long sleep. They felt stiff, confused even, as they climbed up much to Salemβs dismay.Β
βHoseok, Iβm making you something to eat. Whatβre you feeling?β They asked, louder than their normal tone as they werenβt exactly how close or far away their friend was. Their enhanced hearing sometimes tricked them that way.Β
@mccnhcseck
Hours had turned into days. Days into weeks. He felt so fucking useless. His girlfriend was missing and there was nothing he could do to help find her. Why did he have to be just some weak, anxious piece of shit, who could barely leave his house? The faint scratching of Ginnyβs nails against the door forced him into action and made him push himself up onto his feet to open the door for his cat, her fluffy tail disappearing into the hallway.
The boy rubbed his eyes, only now realizing he should probably go and use the bathroom. He hadnβt really been doing anything productive all week; just simply laid around and beaten himself up. But how could he just continue like everything was fine?
He was shuffling back towards his room as Saeranβs voice sounded from the other room, making him stop in his tracks. Though part of him really, reallyΒ didnβt want to deal with any human interaction, he felt bad for how heβd been treating his friend. Of course, Saeran didnβt mind being by themselves, but there was only so much avoiding that was acceptable when two people shared an apartment.
βIβm not really hungry,β He eventually muttered in response, after a brief moment of deliberating. Truth was that he didnβt feel like doing anything β he couldnβt remember when he last showered or had thought about taking one in the first place. And though he knew that this cycle of self pity wasnβt going to bring Aki back, he didnβt think he could function otherwise.
Saeran resisted the urge to roll their eyes, stepping into the kitchen as their hands carded through a mess of tangles in their hair, the other reaching for the refrigerator door.
They tugged out a sprite, frown heavy on their lips as they began to count on their fingers how long Hoseok had been avoiding... well... everything. It was getting to be long. Dangerously long.
Saeran was entirely aware of how depression spiraled and spiraled and took over everything. How some days in bed turned into weeks of just laying there and festering like a poorly maintained wound.
Smelling like one.
They wondered how long it had been since Hoseok showered.
βDonβt care, weβre eating together tonight.β Saeran said finally, looking through their cabinets for something that their own body wouldnβt reject immediately. βJust something small, anyway. I promise youβre going to feel worse if you donβt at least get something warm to drink.β They knew they were being a bit much, harping too much on things that Hoseok didnβt want to deal with right then, but Saeran was getting worried.
They felt like if they left him alone too long that he wouldnβt be able to get better.

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kimkins-blrβ:
A cup of noodles in her hand replaced what would typically be an alcoholic beverage. Dainty elbows pressed against the bar top as she listened to the other speak so solemnly. A pair of chopsticks waved around as she explained,Β βΒ Bridges can get too noisy, donβt you think?Β Terrible place for real estate. Especially if itβs one of those underpasses beneath the motorway.Β β She took a quick slurp after remixing her styrofoam cup.Β βΒ Whatβd you do thatβs got ya all melodramatic anyway? And start from the top, Iβm here for the tea.Β β
It was the noodles that set them off at first, their face cracking into an uncharacteristically wide smile. Why noodles? Why here? They were laughing before they could get a handle on it. βExcuse me, what?β
berserkrsβ:
The straw lodged between her slightly upturned lips made a loud slurpΒ as she drew up the remnants of her pretty pink cocktail, her glassy eyes fixed pointedly at the person who was speaking to themselves. It was always a treat to see the misery of others, especially when unprompted. In a weird way, it made her feel relatively giddy. Life was strange, but at the very least she didnβt want to go live under a bridge with trolls like this person.
She twirled a lock of her blue wig around her finger, the lace-front hairpiece seamlessly blended into her hairline so the patrons of the bar were none the wiser.Β βSounds like fun,β She cooed once she finally released her straw, waving over the bartender and signalling for another.Β βWhatβs inspiring the move?β
βAh... thatβs...β They said, hands rubbing over their features as they tried toΒ get it together. βMy life isnβt going so great is all,β Saeran said finally, stretching as if that would sober them up some. Talking to other people was hard enough, they didnβt need their words slurring over one another on top of their obvious lisp. βIβm living with a friend but he doesnβt really need me?β