minghs

[minghs]

are you a soldier, poet, king, jester or princess?

the poet

you are the kind, selfless lover with a warm heart and whimsical mind that loves to take its duty and wonder around. you are the beating heart of a group and the generous giver who’s heart is filled with pure love and care for everyone you interact with. you have an eye for the arts, romance and just showing your personality, pains, ups and downs through your work you are passionate and dedicated to. your fingers tighten around the pen as you yearn to be the poem and not the poet again. you’re fuelled with strength, joy and a burning passion to love, but sometimes feel overwhelmed by your senses and let them get the best of you.

[minghs]

༊*·˚  ﹕  𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖘  、  a collection of angsty &. love related quotes &. lyrics from pinterest . ( note, none of these quotes are mine . pronouns can be changed to better fit situations / your needs . )

❛ a lover ? maybe . something tender , anyway. but tender like a bruise . ❜

❛ my eyes aches with the weight of unshed tears . you are my home , do you not understand ? ❜

❛ your eyes reflect me in a terrible way . ❜

❛ do i seem anxious to you ? do i seem backed into a corner ? ❜

❛ what else can my hands do with the blood ? pray ? ❜

❛ you believe me like a god . i'll betray you like a man . ❜

❛ yes , i did care . very much . i had never been in love before . ❜

❛ i don't think you've ever felt anything that didn't hurt you . ❜

❛ we've found each other , out of everyone in the world . does that hurt , too ? ❜

❛ if i could have done it all again , i would have loved you better . but i could not have loved you more . ❜

❛ in the crooks of your body , i find my religion . ❜

❛ my heart is a fist . it pockets prayer or holds rage . ❜

❛ he wasn't mine and i wasn't his but he was so good at making me feel like we belonged to each other . ❜

❛ show me all the parts of you that you don't love so i know where to begin . ❜

❛ what lived and died between us - haunts me still . ❜

❛ i'm not a violent dog . i don't know why i bite . ❜

❛ i am both the sacrificial lamb and the executioner . ❜

❛ and in the middle of the chaos there was you . ❜

❛ we're parallel . sinking ships . ❜

❛ i was not a heavenly child , a savage with a temperament wild . even here as  we are standing now , i see the fear in your eyes . ❜

[minghs]

what cycle do you keep repeating?

the almost leap

you stand at the edge of change more than anyone knows. you plan, you hope, you crave the shift — and then you pause. doubt creeps in. the what-ifs get louder. and you tell yourself: not yet. not this time. maybe later. you self-sabotage in ways that feel rational: delaying decisions, waiting for the "right moment," convincing yourself you’re just being cautious. but really, you fear what the leap might take from you. or worse — what it might reveal.

[minghs]

would people fall in love with you?

♡

here's your answer: yes, they would. i feel like people would fall in love with your mind, first- your imagination, your creativity, your words. it's like you paint a pretty scenery whenever you open your mouth- gold, pinks, reds, purples, everyone drowns in them but it's such a sweet sensation that they don't really mind being breathless. you're charming, you really are, and you're an inspiration for anyone who looks up to you. perhaps your soul belongs in a museum, among works of art such as yourself. a single question comes to my mind: who wouldn't fall for you? with you i associate old love letters, the ones sprayed with perfume, and long, train rides.

[minghs]

why do you haunt your house?

to express your love

you're a kind ghost, but a lonely one. the people in your home are guests, and you don't mean to scare them off. but anything paranormal tends to scare the livings, so they all run away at some point. but it's okay. you'll stay here, caring for your house and the memory of what── or who── used to live inside. you can't move on to the afterlife because you don't want to. you have so much love to give, and you've never had enough time to say it. even now that you're a ghost, there still doesn't seem to be enough time. i hope you find someone who loves you and your house the way you deserve. i hope you're not too scared to let them.

[minghs]

𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐔𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝟑 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ASTARION EDITION ⟶ part one

“there is a time and place for violence. i mean - this place is perfect. but is it the time?”

“heaven forbid. we’re all entitled to our secrets.”

“sitting by the fire while you do all the hard work sounds marvelous, actually.”

“couldn’t you wait ten minutes before being an absolute freak?”

“you’re welcome to try and kill me, of course. but i don’t die easily these days.”

“ugh, don’t be so nice to me. it makes me want to be nice back.”

“a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.”

“stabbing someone a dozen times can be many things. but ‘the right thing to do’? hm, i doubt it.”

“immortality is only as good as the life you’re living. an eternity of luxury sounds a lot better than an eternity of struggle.”

“what are you doing? this isn’t safe. you can’t trust him.”

“look, i’m a not a details person, all right. but turning up and causing chaos has worked for us so far.”

“they were clearly artists. you can tell because it’s a mess in here.”

“you know, there is a point where bravery becomes stupidity. and walking into that thing would be very, very stupid.”

“i’ve had enough of bad poets singing of my looks - urgh.”

“is the plant bothering you?”

“until then, try not to die.”

“oh yes, i’m fine. i just feel… awful.”

“shut that oversized chicken up.”

“you know, the only way to cure temptation… is to give in to it.”

“next time, just warn me before you do something stupid.”

“there certainly is a strong ambience down here. i don’t know if it’s the bats or the decaying - everything. it’s quite homey.”

“it’s nice to see heroes are as awful as the rest of us.”

“unusually polite for a god.”

“of all the places you dragged me, this might just be the most foul. and that is saying something, given some of the things you exposed me to.”

“i mean, i hate to judge the proverbial book, but that oath may be all cover and no pages.”

“a shapeshifter? it could be anyone. i mean - it’s not me. but it could be anyone else.”

“sometimes we need to think with our heads before our knifes, dear.”

“you could watch for anyone acting strangely, but - well, you know the lunatics we camp with.”

“thank you. for being that evil bastard.”

“can you feel that? the dark, it’s - hungry. best watch the shadows.”

“this place brings back the worst memories.”

“well, that’s disturbing. still, better than having an actual conversation with him though.”

“oh no. not again.”

“honestly, just once, could we end up somewhere normal?”

“i prefer to travel in smaller groups. it’s more… intimate.”

“nice as it is, she still doesn’t have the best hair in the camp.”

“thank goodness. i was worried i’d have to get involved. now, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

“i much prefer it when i’m the one prowling in the shadows - about to strike.”

“ah, nothing says ‘true love’ like faking your own death to avoid someone.”

“you’re not going to eviscerate him? i was hoping for a show.”

“it’s just a waste of a perfectly good cult we could be controlling.”

“can you - ugh, can you shut up and let me read?”

“i hate to be negative. but they’ll carve you up like a goose.”

“my, she sounds positively demented. i love it. let’s tell her everything.”

“you villain. i didn’t know you had it in you.”

“a well-presented face can open a lot of doors.”

“hardly a promising introduction.”

“do you mind? i’m brooding.”

“i’d rather be the only dark power inside your body, if it’s all the same to you.”

“easy now, let’s not do anything hilarious.” 

“i’m with you, my dear. wherever this leads.” 

“i appreciate anyone who opens a conversation with bodily harm.” 

“nothing like a little camp drama to spice up the evening.” 

“it’s almost a pity things ended up amicably.”

“what do you see when you look at me?”

“i would’ve liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine.”

“do you have any other chaos you need to unleash here?”

“all i want is a little fun. is that so much to ask?” 

“don’t be so sour. i like a good time as much as anyone.” 

“this seems like a lovely little spot. the sense of impending doom aside.”

[minghs]

✦  sana  sent:  ❛ You know that I miss you, right ? ❜

the night blankets over south korea with an exhale of exhaustion, as if the citizens are finally allowed this moment to shrug off their facades just to relax under the comfort of nighttime. it's different for him once the sun dips low behind the bridge stretching across the horizon, behind the skyline of korea, and the night brings a sort of solemnness to minghao's mind instead of the well-needed respite.

his apartment houses him and his mounted television, a blanket spread carelessly across his legs as he watches chinese shows mindlessly— it's in this hour that he isn't able to receive any information nor is he able to understand what the plot is. the television provides an incessant chatter that he finds he misses and the blanket provides a warmth, a quiet hug, around his body. he turns after a moment, his eyelids slipping close as he folds his hands over his stomach, wondering if he can get up to brew some tea.

but does he want to expend any more energy today? his schedules have been all too demanding as of late— every night meets him with a breath of lethargy, of intense exhaustion, and arms open to curl him into its starry embrace. a soft, yet deep, hum lifts into the air and he decides that no, perhaps he will pass on today. in the background, the noise from the television distantly melds into the soft, lilting music coming from his stereo and the overall ambience has him slipping into a warm lull of sleep.

fate, however, has different plans for him; as he turns on his side, arms fitting just underneath the weight of his own body, his sleepy eyes catch sight of the flickering screen of his phone. his ringtone mixes with the dramatic chatter coming from his television and his brain lags just a moment, late to realizing that someone's calling him. the ringtone is different from the one he has reserved for his members, different from the one he has reserved for the company and the staff— this one, he knows, is reserved for everyone else where urgency does not ring true to him as it would for his work and his members.

so he's slower still to unfurl his body from the couch, for his legs to find their steadying nature as he settles into a sitting position. he's slow to stretch much like a feline soaking up the sun, and when the phone's in his hand, he recognizes the name, the number, and even his smile curls on his visage slowly. instantly, his body relaxes into the plush of his couch, legs curling up against his chest as he takes the call and presses the phone to his ear like a lifeline— like she and him are kids again, playing a game of cup telephone.

they've long since gone past the need for formalities and hellos and how are you doings and niceties; she launches him into outer space with her form of a greeting, with the way she tells him so softly you know that i miss you, right?

minghao's silent for a moment, the words leaving him pondering and opening up wounds that he did not think he needed to ever prod at again— his smile softens into the heel of his palm, his brows pinching, and although she cannot see him, he knows that she can figure out how that blatant and brutal honesty makes him feel. he hasn't seen her in too long, hasn't heard her speak in even longer, but he knows his members have talked with her and even laughed with her. he knows how they feel about her, about her group, after such a fated appearance and all he could feel in return had been pride.

still, he finds that words elude him. the hand not holding his phone pulls at a stray thread of his tank top, a hum filtering through the line just for there to be noise between them. he see-saws between deflecting with a joke and being earnest; yet, because the night brings about a sense of honesty, he ends up weighing more on one side than the other.

"i know," he replies after a beat, a soft chuckle lingering like a ghost in the shadows of his words. "you're always free to bug me at any time on those days you miss me the most, shasha." a second passing, his finger pulling at the thread even harder and his eyes watching the way the hemming of his shirt bunches awkwardly. "i miss you too. i've, ah, been too busy and too tired these days. what's up with you, hm? what brought on the call at—" his gaze lazily trails to his digital clock: 1:30 AM. "at one-thirty?"

                   @sachurisu / x

[minghs]

what does your heart look like?

broken, missing pieces that once were there

your heart has been torn before, chipped and maybe even shattered. some pieces will never be recovered, and you are shaped by the loss. but it can still be shaped into something tangible, something good, even with its flaws and imperfections. you don’t have to do all the work of rebuilding by yourself. allow other hands to leave their fingerprints on the new heart you create from the remnants.

[minghs]

LATE NIGHT PHONE CALL PROMPTS.

things that can be said during a late night call. some lighthearted , some more serious. a prompt for every occasion! trigger warning for cursing. change pronouns when necessary.

❛ I hope I didn't wake you. ❜

❛ Hello ? Can you hear me ? ❜

❛ It's late, I know, I just wanted to get this off my chest. ❜

❛ I'm really fucking tired of this. ❜

❛ Is this a bad time ? I can call back later. ❜

❛ Please, I just need you to be honest with me. ❜

❛ C'mon, I won't tell anyone. ❜

❛ .. No, I'm pretty sure that's not how that works. ❜

❛ I'll be right there. ❜

❛ No, it's okay. You didn't wake me. ❜

❛ Can this wait ? I haven't gotten any sleep. ❜

❛ Bullshit. I know you better than that. ❜

❛ What do you mean by that, exactly ? ❜

❛ Can you speak up ? I can hardly hear you. ❜

❛ You sound exhausted. ❜

❛ This sounds like something you might regret telling me tomorrow. ❜

❛ I'm not tired. ❜

❛ I think you may be overthinking this just a little bit. ❜

❛ There's nothing to worry about ! ❜

❛ Can I come over ? I just really don't want to be alone right now. ❜

❛ Promise me you won't tell a single soul what I'm about to say. ❜

❛ Shit. My phone's about to die. ❜

❛ You know that I miss you, right ? ❜

❛ Go fuck yourself. ❜

❛ You've got to listen to me. ❜

❛ This can't wait. It's important. ❜

❛ I don't think I follow. ❜

❛ Man, you're not making any sense. ❜

❛ Are you even listening to me ? ❜

❛ Dude.. I never even thought of it that way before. ❜

❛ Look outside right now. Right now !! ❜

❛ Hm. I don't like the sound of that. ❜

❛ Just trust me ! ❜

❛ I know I don't say it enough, but I love you. ❜

❛ You're really starting to worry me. ❜

❛ He's nothing ! ❜

❛ I don't think this is working out. ❜

❛ Be serious. ❜

❛ That's not funny. ❜

❛ I'm not joking ! ❜

[minghs]

PROMPTS FOR PRE ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS AND CREATING HISTORY BETWEEN CHARACTERS *  assorted dialogue for giving your characters a history and giving them past things or events to talk about, adjust as necessary

do you remember what i told you last time?

have you been doing well since i saw you?

that's not what you told me back then.

when was the last time i saw you?

you were shorter then.

i'm picking the restaurant this time.

we've known each other since we were children.

always knew i could count on you.

that time was different. this is worse.

you're not going to let me live that down, are you?

i seem to remember a conversation we had back then.

so you changed your mind about it?

do you remember our encounter in paris?

you should know me by now.

am i the only one that knows the truth?

we had a lot of help back then.

your mom told me to look out for you.

you just love bringing that back up to annoy me.

maybe don't mention my past indescretions?

this was never going to work out between us.

i told you not to get attached.

i know more about you than you think.

i was there, remember?

i'm not about to forget all the shit you put me through.

you told me you were going to try and make this work.

remember what i said to you?

the last time i saw you, things were good between us.

you never mentioned this before.

that was the longest flight of my life, and you made it worse.

can i still trust you after all that?

at least we tried to make something work.

we never discussed what happened between us.

okay, but i'm driving the car this time.

i haven't forgotten what you said last week.

i'm still thinking about your comment.

i didn't realize it was you when i first saw you.

you seem to make a lot of enemies around here.

there's not much for us to talk about.

we worked it out last time.

i know you far better than you know yourself.

we have a long history.

is that the shirt you were wearing last time?

what don't i know about you?

i haven't told them about us.

you were the only person i could go to.

you know me.

this is bigger than both of us.

i can't stand your driving.

are you taking me to the place we had dinner last time?

that's not at all what you said.

didn't we agree on that?

i thought i made it very clear where i stand.

are these the same people that came after you last time?

are you still going on about it?

can we talk about it?

staying silent about it won't help.

you're the only person who knows the real me.

this is a bad time to talk about your problems.

[minghs]

i'm sorry but honestly i think tumblr's eating my asks in my inbox or something because i do see a ghost ask in there and it's not showing me what it is which is irritating me but if you've sent something and i never responded, it's likely that i didn't get it so feel free to double send 🫩

[minghs]

↪     𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺     (   a  collection  of  various  settings  meant  to  inspire  drabbles  or  be  used  as  prompts .   will be updated .   )

001.   the seaside ,  as the sun is setting .

002.   a cabin in the middle of the woods .

003.   a picket-fenced home in the suburbs .

004.   a dark bus stop lit only by street lights .

005.   a private jet miles high in the sky .

006.   a funhouse’s room of mirrors .

007.   an office building ,  bustling and busy .

008.   the back row of an empty movie theater .

009.   a run-down (or abandoned) motel room .

010.   a loud house party on a suburban street .

011.   a university lecture hall during a class .

012.   the rooftop of a very tall building .

013.   a great ballroom during an elegant party .

014.   the back of a wailing ambulance .

015.   the wine cellar of a large mansion .

016.   behind the school’s gymnasium .

017.   a bonfire in the middle of the woods .

018.   an otherwise empty parking lot .

019.   the bar of a loud ,  dark club .

020.   an empty summer camp .

021.   a large hedge maze ,  easy to get lost in .

022.   a neglected or derelict treehouse .

023.   a spacious ,  light-filled meadow .

024.   an underground / illegal fighting club .

025.   an abandoned scrapyard .

026.   a large penthouse overlooking the city .

027.   an apple orchard in the middle of spring .

028.   an empty playground with squeaky swings .

029.   an extravagant greenhouse .

030.   the base of a large waterfall .

031.   a spacious walk - in closet full of lovely clothes .

032.   a quiet hospital room .

033.   the dark depths of an abandoned mine .

034.   the deck of a fishing boat at night .

035.   the thick crowd of an audience at a show .

036.   a long ,  winding road .

037.   the site of a car accident .

038.   a hiking trail in the mountains .

039.   a cramped dressing room .

040.   a dusty antiques shop full of relics .

041.   the street of an unfamiliar city at night .

042.   between the tall shelves of a thrifted book shop .

043.   a building abandoned during construction .

044.   a house without power or running water .

045.   a mysterious trail found in the woods .

046.   the back of a taxi stuck in traffic .

047.   the inside of an elevator that won’t move .

048.   fairgrounds during a large event  (or after hours) .

049.   a garden bountiful with flowers or produce .

050.   a childhood home or bedroom .

[minghs]

[minghs]

     我寂寞寂寞就好，你真的不用来我回忆微笑

fingers run through his hair like a koi swimming through steady waters, the glimpse of red shining through his sea of tangerine-colored locks and nearly blending with each brush of her hand. she picks at his roots, softly tutting as she murmurs something in mandarin before brushing through his hair again, humming a song that he hasn't heard in quite some time. he stifles the urge to laugh, the way his mother can scold him one second and then love him tenderly the next— he supposes the power of a mother's love is something he won't be able to grasp in its entirety but he doesn't question it, no.

slowly, his lashes flutter and he peers up at the mirror of his own face— hers is a lot more feminine than his, her lashes longer and her lips fuller but he is her copy in all the ways his cousin is and to his father's slight dismay. you both are taller than me... why couldn't have a'hao gotten my height? and his mother had laughed until her belly hurt, her cheeks pinched red and amused before she had leaned in and kissed his father tenderly.

he remembers how he had smiled at the sight, shaking his head in a muted version of her amusement: it only makes sense for me to be tall, baba, he had responded impishly, childishly, and his father returned that same childish nature.

as he lays his head on his mother's lap, he muses on how he inherited his father's perpetual youthfulness whereas, yes, he is his mother's masculine mirror. she smiles down at him when she catches him staring and he cannot help the way he mirrors her gentle, tenderest smile, burrowing his face in the warmth of her belly.

when he had been younger and insecure and shy and scared, he would turn and hide like this— face against her belly, ear to her skin, and a desire to just melt back in the safety of his mother; she, who would keep him protected and she, who would bring him out of his shell to encourage the performer inside of him to come out. she saw in him that most did not, that most could not, and put him in places that he hated but grew to love.

his mother rivaling the warmth of hestia's hearth, a place where he could crawl and rest his weary heart during his most difficult days. a tight feeling catches in his chest, his heart's beat stuttering in its rhythm for just a moment before the tide rescues his emotions and steadies them— for a while, after he's turned, he's gazing at her knee and a finger traces a circle around her kneecap.

she hums something, a song his heart is married to and his mind finds respite in. yet, it isn't the humming that brings tears to his eyes— it's the way he de-ages in her lap, his fingers shrinking and becoming stubby; the color of his hair melting away into a striking black and shortening into a cropped cut; his knees and elbows knobby and stretched thinly, scarred with ancient wounds from carelessness and childishness; and his heart curled into the cusp of his youth, a moment when he was scared and shy.

how is it that his mother catches his every shift in emotion? how is it that she knows when he's less than content and swept in a tsunami of emotions?

her hand continues to card itself through his locks, the humming softer yet insistent, and then the hand slides from hand to shoulder— a silent call of face me. he is but a man, tethered to his heart's call, his mother's only son, and he turns to face her with his wet eyes and wet cheeks and flustered expression. she smiles down at him instead of fretting, making him laugh at how her worry is nonexistent.

i know you, little treasure. she murmurs as her back bows, her lips to his temple. you should cover this song, hm?

his forever supporter, the pillar that stays steady as the tides roar in the hurricane of life— not once weathered down even as the ocean desperately claws against it's steady body. she smiles at him from the core of the earth, warmth radiating to where he stands on the shore of haicheng, fists balled. the waves tremble with the force of her humming, calming to a loving push and pull, kissing his toes.

when she presses her forehead to his and hums the song, he hums too and whispers how it would sound much better if they made a duet together, that he cannot even think to do the song any justice. she smiles, brightly, her smile lines wrinkling around her eyes and his heart warms at the sight. he feels his father's hand stream down his back soothingly, sitting beside his mother and again he feels as if he were eleven years old, sleepy and desperate for his parents' comfort.

as sleep tugs him into its warm, loving embrace, he hears his father hum adoringly, my loves, and with a smile, he starts to drift.

[minghs]

EXCUSE ME YOU LOOK SO GOOD 😭😭😭😭😭 (x)

[minghs]

HOW DOES YOUR MUSE HANDLE EMOTIONS?

bold what usually or often applies. italicise what sometimes applies.

ANGER

jaw clenching, hands balling into fists, teeth grinding, yelling, going nonverbal, stuttering speech, rushed speech, slow concise speech, rambling, quiet, arms crossing, shaking head, tearing up, animated, expressionless, projects, internalizes, vents, withdraws, passive aggressive, direct, physical outbursts, verbal outbursts.

JOY

easy smiles, fighting back grins, suppressed laughter, loud laughter, giggles, chuckling, smirks, whole body laughs, covers mouth when laughing, throws head back when laughing, slaps leg, touches people around them when laughing, looks down when laughing, looks for eye contact when laughing, sparkling eyes, bubbly happiness, quiet subtle happiness, obnoxious happiness, wants to spread joy, quietly savors joy.

SADNESS / CRYING

bottling it up, seeks distractions, wallows, meditates & processes, avoidance, seeks out comfort, withdraws, talks it out, internalizes it, sad smiles, depression naps, uses alcohol, uses drugs, seeks out sources of joy, fidgets with sentimental item, sits in silence, broods, gets moody, wants someone to share the misery, tries to hide negative emotions, nurtures others to make themselves feel better.

EMBARRASSMENT

shame, blushing, looking away, rubbing at back of head, covering face, laughing nervously, laughs it off, overthinks, lets it go, self-deprecating humour, deflects, gets irritated, smiles, withdraws, crossing arms over stomach, crossing arms over chest, hands in pockets, shoulders sinking, shrugs, falling into silence until comfortable again, talking a lot to compensate.

GUILT

avoiding eye contact, shoulders sinking low, head hanging down, crying, chest aches, lashes out, internalizes, apologizes, deflects, communicates, withdraws, grand gestures for forgiveness, accepts fault easily, punishes themselves, martyrdom, victim complex, over-active guilt complex, healthy conscience, internalizes even after forgiveness, seeking redemption, moves on easily, denial, lack of guilt/conscience, sorry they got caught more than caused harm, can’t handle knowing they hurt others.

[minghs]

      #8docu, part 1.

1   does your muse give good advice? on what subjects? the reality is he's nearly as unexperienced as the next person; he thinks of his actual experiences and sips tea, contemplates on how to cater it to a specific person (whether it'd be beneficial), and then offers the advice, if asked. so, to volley back to the question— does he give good advice? and on what subjects?

he gives incredible advice— pulling from worldly ideals, his own morals, and expanding his mind to offer a whole lecture on what someone should do and what someone could do and what someone doesn't have to do. he'll give all sorts of options, will pay attention to the person themselves, and try to give them different paths but also he has a tendency to seep his own views, his own morals, into the conversation. what's right— to him? and what's wrong— to him? sometimes he can toe the line, blur it even, but it's never with any ill intent.

when it comes to subjects, anything goes with him; his favorite subject to give advice on is particularly romance problems. he loves love and loves to help others when things go wrong in cupid's country.

2   what bores your muse? what are they like when bored? it's hard to pinpoint what exactly bores him since he likes everything he comes across (at least once); yet, it's truly just the thing that loses it's spark that bores him. either that, or historical movies that have zero plot and zero action to keep him awake. he's a strange creature, truly— he doesn't mind nature, historical, and murder documentaries but they need to move him and it needs to keep his brain active.

when he's bored, it's obvious, as mentioned. he zones out quicker, his eyes go unfocused, and his fingers will flex just minutely— he'll either tap them against one another or he'll drum them against whatever he's leaning against/sitting on. a otherworldly sort of softness will spread on his face, something similar to a dreamy state of mind, and he'll seem not entirely there and yet entirely there. he'll listen to you and yet not be able to comprehend things.

when he's bored, his languages tend to get mixed up because of how he zones— someone may be talking to him in korean but he'll be briefly confused because he's thinking in chinese. he may even slip in an accent when he responds, the slow blink and twitch of his lips evident of his boredom.

3   what colors does your muse like to wear? he prefers to wear colors that suit his mood, truthfully— it also depends on what suits him best that morning or night. he's extremely meticulous on his outfitting— so much so to the point of not really allowing the stylists to have the final say on what he should be wearing. if anything, he'll always alter his outfits to what he wants to convey or how he wants to look— whether it be by literally cutting a jersey tee in half or adding a multitude of accessories to his fingers, hair, neck.

though, generally, he really likes monochromatic colors to wear. the diva inside of him believes that monochromatic colors can go with anything, honestly, and that he can pair any bold shoe with a black shirt or a bold bandana with a white shirt and he'll still be able to rock it. after all, he is who he is and the confidence with which that drives him skyrockets on a daily basis.

4  does your muse drive? how are they behind the wheel? when they need to drive their own cars to camping grounds or to a resort where they'll be resting, the members will try to override his desire to drive. it's a bit offensive to him, he feels, but he understands why they do so.

after all, although he drives and he drives well, he also drives like he's in F1 or as if he's casted in fast and furious. without much regard to speed limit signs or speed bumps, he typically puts his foot down on the gas pedal and careens through the nightlife of south korea— windows down, hood retracted, and wind pushing roughly through his hair just to feel a bit of risk.

he gets it though, when his members try to get their hands on the wheel instead of him; maybe he should invest in getting a motorcycle instead.

             lumonresources.