fockbambi

[fockbambi]

how does one indie rp now . im lost

[fockbambi]

lethal

[fockbambi]

2/∞ gifsets of vernon

[fockbambi]

CAN I BE HONEST? I HATE TO BE CONTROLLED. © / ©

[fockbambi]

8, compliment ME

I CANT FLIP THE IMAGE XO

Keep reading

[fockbambi]

 don’t mind me, i love it when my heart is breaking / @fockbambi cont’d.

everything breaks fast like glass. with each heartbeat comes a chance of pain and the truth of it is, we all have to feel. perhaps, the other broken boy is too, he doesn’t remember the last day he was okay. bambi clearly doesn’t look okay. he thinks that he is suppose to, you know, be present at times like this but life have another plan. sometimes he wondered who to blame because he simply can’t blame time, nor fate nor the world. it is hard to say something when there isn’t anyone at fault.

marion is no one and everyone at the same time and god, he never meant to hurt anyone nor to love anyone (but he did, once, and he hurt himself at the end. love isn’t something for someone like him; he guessed and still wondering).

“it’s the truth” is what he wanted to say but unable to, dropping the words is the best option. his lips are still closed –prim and proper. eyes still as blue as his whole being, as everyone’s whole being after evie died; to be honest, he doesn’t know what to feel about the passing event. clean slate is what he is – too hard headed to break and too cold to stay (perhaps that was why he left them all first. kiss them goodbye without telling. poof–just like that yet he came back poof like a curse)

something within him is burning and that is not because the cigarette between his lips. it’s the burning guilt of whatever the fuck happened to him that he simply cannot understand. guilt but he refused to believe so. he says “yeah, you were and still is such a little bitch.” in the middle of him taking a long drag and filled his lungs with nothing but toxic cloud and let out one. “we are all good at running away –you, especially, is remarkable.”

“in a not offensive way, of course, bambi – i wouldn’t dare to hurt your feeling and what? got sued for breaking your heart and shit?” he half joking, he understand completely that the others can do anything with his money. even the stupidest things. “but sometimes running away is the safest option. wouldn’t blame you for choosing so.” life is hard enough already. do whatever you think suits best for you to cope. find your solace even in the dirtiest slump.

“being a coward is not something to be embarrassed about.”

pepsi tasted like shit in his throat that he frowns upon it. placing it on —a surface of something near within his reach, he couldn’t pinpoint what it is, obviously it is something that occupy the back of his mind, the least of his attention and priority.

he laughs at the words that remind him of maybe some things stay stagnant, stay the same –and that is how pitiful bambi is in his eyes. it’s like everything is too hard to fight anymore and he just wanted to say that maybe this is just what it is. life sucks and they couldn’t do anything about it. perhaps there is nothing deeper, nothing more vital than what’s already been done, or said, or whatever the fuck happened to them.

he won’t let any specks of sadness creeping out his eyes, too. none of this feeling worth to be reveal upon, he is not bambi. so marion laughs yet again, so marion take a long drag of his cigarette yet again. avoiding everything, because he is good at avoiding things.

“like you are in to grandmas now? i understand your – odd liking on things but i never know it was to this extend. but sure, who am i to judge people that i care of?”

the last words got him choked up.

see, it is easy to appear unbreakable, only if that means nothing to him. bambi? he meant the world to him, he meant so much that his silences are now different. he never know that his hand that hold his cigarette can tremble like this.

“yeah,” he says.

“yeah.” he repeats.

it’s a promise.

[fockbambi]

send me a # to learn an unusual hc about my muse!

bonus points if you ask me to randomize it !

what’s your muse’s favorite album of all time / favorite artist?

how do they listen to their music? ipod, mp3, computer, cd, records, etc?

do they take baths or showers? do they prefer one over the other?

do they wear their hair down when they sleep, or tied up / braided?

how many blankets / pillows do they like to have on their bed?

what do they normally dream about? nightmares or nonsense?

do they wake up groggy or alert? do they like mornings?

what do they sleep in? pj’s, normal clothes, nothing?

what do they smell like? do they use perfume or cologne?

what shampoo scent do they like the best and why?

bar soap or liquid? do they like loofahs?

do they prefer sleeping alone or with someone else?

do they like the room cold or hot when they sleep?

do they stay up too late? do they like staying up?

do they know how to drive? do they like to drive?

do they prefer taxis / buses / subways, etc? or none of the above?

do they have pets? what kind? dogs, cats, etc?

do they prefer cats or dogs? or neither?

what are their phobias? do they have any at all?

what do they hate being teased about? are they teased often?

did they have any fears growing up that they’ve since conquered?

do they have a fear they want to conquer, but haven’t yet?

how do they show fear? sweating, shaking, blankness, anger, etc?

do they have a short temper? what’s most likely to set it off?

do they get scared easily? does loud noises, shouting, etc, scare them?

what are they most passionate about? what could they debate about for hours?

what do they never, ever want to speak of, ever?

do they have kids? do they want kids? if so, how many?

is there something they’d like to change about themselves physically?

is there something about their personality they want to change?

do they have good fashion sense? or do they just wear whatever?

do they critique others easily? do they judge from afar?

are they too hard on themselves over the little things?

are they the jealous type? what are they most likely to be jealous of?

are they possessive over their things? or over other people? both?

would they rather be alone or in a relationship?

what do they think about polyamorous relationships? would they do it?

do they have parents / parental figures? do they have a good relationship with them?

do they have siblings? if so, how many? do they like them?

do they have a big family or a small family? no family?

where would they want to live if they could live anywhere? why?

are they happy in their current living situation? why or why not?

do they like living alone or with another person / other people?

did they go to college, or are they attending? did / do they like it?

what’s their dream job / profession? do they have one?

if they could control one thing in the world, what would it be?

do they like tv shows or movies? or neither?

do they have social media? do they like it or hate it? obsess over it?

do they have a creative outlet? if so, what is it?

where do they see themselves in 2 / 5 / 10 years?

[fockbambi]

i’ve been thinking about this for a while, and i don’t know if i want to add it, so i’m just gonna...write it out and see what my brain wants lmfao. i’ve always wanted bambi to have some kind of ugly relationship with religion. wasn’t sure how i’d insert that in his life, but i think i got it. idk if i want to make it official tho,,,,maybe i’ll have experimental threads surrounding it if i can find people to plot with rip

new npc?? new npc: some estranged rich aunt??? estranged bc she’s very religious, and bambi’s mom isn’t at all, so they cut ties ( which could also explain why a rich sister won’t help her poor sister :^/ ). anyway, so this aunt wants her nephew to believe in God, y’know. knows he loves music, offers to pay for choir classes at this upper-class church.

so this is where it can go two different ways.....either bambi goes to spend every summer at his aunt’s home so he can go to his classes,

OR

his parents drive him (1hr away? 2?) to the place every week, but the whole drive is just them arguing with him because he’s such a bad student slkfjsdklgjdg and he’s embarrassing them in front of all these bougie kids n their parents ):

i think his childhood friends prob make fun of him for attending those classes. also he absolutely hates it and is always in time-out or whatever. he’s so troublesome, they make him pray his annoyance away more than have him sing. also he fucking hates rich kids so no way in hell he’s singing alongside them smh. probably comes back home with bruises-- these teachers preach so much, but are so impatient they can’t handle him. parents tell him he deserves it anyway :^/

every time he gets back home he plays some rock vinyl and jams to that instead. god choir is so fucking boring. little does he know it would have such an influence on his style later on ( since he sings with such a high pitch ).

i think he’d be doing that from age 7 to like......11 or 12.( which is the age where he started his small punkrock garage band w/ his close friend ). < total act of rebellion.

obviously this would affect the way he sees religion & spirituality. that it was just for rich people and that it hated him. that it was violent and it was painful and it was so fucking boring, obviously. it was not meant for a kid like bambi. being with all these boys, feeling less than. it was everything he hated.

i think, if i do go on with this and add it to his timeline, it would add a lot more depth to the relationships he’s had in the past that i’ve plotted out with a few other muns.........and also open the door for new ones, since it’s a whole other world he’s visiting. 

obvious song inspo: ‘vois sur ton chemin’ from the movie ‘les choristes’ 

this is about as much as...i could come up with. ofc this is very basic info, could maybe change a few things up or improve on some ideas. or just scrap it completely and fill up his childhood with smth else fsdlkjfskdlgj BUT...BUT I THINK...i think this has potential. i’m leaning more towards his parents driving him up there than going over to his aunt bc it would expand on his relationship w/ his parents. and why he can’t stand them nowadays.

ERR YEA. if you’ve read up until now wow, thank you??????? w-what do you think of this idea 🥺 does it make any sense 🥺 and if you’ve got any middle/upper-class muses send them my way-- ok thanks bye

[fockbambi]

Mommy (2014) dir. Xavier Dolan

Maybe, one day, you won’t love me anymore. It’s true. It happens.

[fockbambi]

sorcelleire‌:

@fockbambi :-)

fourteen. fourteen dates. she didn’t think it was possible, but sooyoung had found a broken human, she was sure of it! though the cupid may not have been the best at her job (okay, so maybe she had a lot of trouble properly matching people) but it had never taken her fourteen dates to find a match. no, at this point, it was clear that bambi was the problem and perhaps, at this point, there was no way of fixing him.

she sits, sunk into his couch, with a frown on her face waiting for him to get him. she’s in her cupid form, cotton candy hair cascading down her shoulders and her wings pressed uncomfortably into the couch, her eyes red as blood. this would be the first time he’s encountered her in this form, but he’d be no stranger to her hanging around his place before he’s even arrived. this time, though, she was too irritated to bother changing her features to their human form. what did it matter anyway? this may be the last time she bothered setting him up with someone else.

growing bored of waiting the cupid pulls out her phone, tapping quickly at the screen, brows furrowing. 

[ sms: bambi ] where are u???? [ sms: bambi ] the sun has already gone down and i’m hungry [ sms: bambi ] u promised u’d get me hot cocoa (¤﹏¤)

she sighs and sags further into the couch, adjusting her wings so they weren’t pressed so hard into the fabric, her head falling back with a small groan. not only was he quite possibly unmatchable he seemed to never be on time for anything. with that thought, she could understand one fundamental reason none of his dates worked out. what respectable person would wait around for over an hour for their date to arrive? not many, she figured.

sooyoung perks up at the sound of keys jingling outside and practically throws herself off the couch once she hears and sees the door handle turn. she runs across the room, nearly tripping over her own feet before standing before him, placing her hands on her hips and fixing him with a frown. 

“you’re late!” she doesn’t yell, but she does her best to mimic a stern mother. “where’s my chocolate, huh? if you didn’t bring my chocolate i swear i’m giving up on you.” that was a lie. she was determined to find him a match, even if she died trying. 

it’s only when you least expect it that your guardian angel finally decides to save your poor life. bambi was thrown over a toilet, head halfway through the bowl as sickness made its way out of his body. he felt horrible; headache, exhaustion, muscle soreness, nausea-- heck, maybe this was it. like it it. his time had finally come, and he was about to succumb. nothing was holding him back, he just needed to let go. LET GO.

his phone, dug deep in his back pocket, vibrated. once, twice, thrice. and every time it’d just pull him back. he couldn’t let go, not yet ( unfortunately ).

bambi sat back up, death hanging on his face. he couldn’t die in a port-a-potty, not like this. with the blue neon light buzzing above him, a music festival’s worth of body juices down the shit hole, and there he was, like a diamond in the rough, with his pink heart-shaped glasses and his bedazzled punk leather jacket and his pink shorts and his sandals over his mid-calf length white socks. if he was to die, it would have to be in his jacuzzi, or maybe strangled to death by some secret royalty lover, inside a mansion that cost as much as it does to save a whole country.

not in this faded green port-a-potty while terrible rock music boomed not too far away. bambi didn’t perform that night.

he finally took a glance at his phone, minutes into trying to unlock it. the AI couldn’t recognize his face-- and he doesn’t blame it, he was looking absolutely shit-faced ( more so than usual ). it took him an additional few minutes to recognize the number.

[ sms: 🌸🎀💕 ] singing rigt now [ sms: 🌸🎀💕 ] wwat sun [ sms: 🌸🎀💕 ] ??????!????????????? [ sms: 🌸🎀💕 ] ok [ sms: 🌸🎀💕 ] u promise me brade pitt [ sms: 🌸🎀💕 ] 👿

how much he hated texting. fingers always too heavy to type proper words, but at least he could lie comfortably. it took him around thirty minutes to leave the filthy cubicle, and he only did so because someone kept banging on the door. no more loud noises, please, for the love of god. his manager, too angry at him to drive him home, bambi took a cab and brought along whatever belongings he could remember; a bag full of socks, box with cheap makeup, and heeled shoes-- the type strippers wear-- bold, valentine-red high heels.

but for some reason, as he approached his front door after paying the driver and waving him goodbye, bambi was wearing a black satin robe instead of his punk jacket, and wasn’t carrying a single thing in his hands. 

he opened his door and instantly froze at the sight of the girl. was he dreaming? no one could look that good in pink, not even pretty girls. huh. “ are you high? ” those red eyes had to be a weird side-effect of some drug. “ w-what chocolate? me, i’m the chocolate. “ bambi didn’t even realize what his response was; it was almost automated, the way he’d try to flirt with everything that moved.

he walked past her, although his eyes never left hers, until he crashed onto his couch. a long groan left his throat and filled the silence. “ your wings. “ he started, voice muffled by the couch, “ can i borrow them for a show? “ he didn’t even look up at her. “ are you not high? “ he asked again, as if her eyes were freakier than her wings.

“ i’m tired, no more dates please. “ and it’s like he knew all along who she was.

[fockbambi]

“What’s going on?” “He’s gonna kill himself.” “Oh for God’s sake.”

[fockbambi]

"This is the worthwhile fight."

( not accepting. )

" don't say that...sounds freaky. "

bambi didn't quite mean it. he wished he could talk to marion all night, tell him all about the snacks and clothes he stole and how he so swiftly eluded the employees. or whip out the ol' broken recorder and have the older listen through a cracked sound the new tunes bambi came up with. ( and then get frustrated at the stuttering audio, smack the machine and get embarrassed about how badly it made his songs sound ). " don't know why i called you. " a glimpse of a cockney accent made its way through bambi's words-- as he usually spoke around marion.

marion reminded him of... fist fights over which group of kids gets to play at the park, of sticking your tongue on a frozen pole, of insulting other people's mums, and of pulling down the pants of the cop that roams around your neighborhood, but really just uses that as an excuse to creep on teen girls. marion reminded bambi of home. too bad all bambi wanted as a child was to run away from it. " you know i've never been good at fighting. "

he wasn't lying. sure, he boasted a lot about cracking skulls and breaking bones, but never without having his own body turned to dust first. every other week he'd appear with a busted lip, a swollen cheek, a black eye, homemade bandaging around broken knuckles, taped gauze on minor stab wounds, and everything in-between. bambi was lucky he didn't lose any front teeth; he wouldn't have had this level of fame without his good looks. although maybe that would have saved him from...everything that came during his stardom, quite literally.

this is why he should've stayed in contact with marion.

" i'm tired, mama. " nicknames were bambi's strong suit, obviously. " i'm a fuckin' billionaire. why does my brain still hurt? my bones, too. my blood, i can feel it, you know. my body hates me. m'trying so hard to fight it, can't win, mama. " bambi would hand marion a gun and point it at his own forehead if he could. it's not that he wanted to die, it's that he didn't want to exist anymore. or at least for a few weeks. long enough to reset his whole life. just do it all over again-- he would.

bambi pulled a pepsi bottle out of jacket sleeve-- extremely oversized, he was basically dissipating in it-- and took a chug of the mysterious liquid inside of it. he, just as quickly, spat it out, followed by a subtle gag. " you know what's funny ma-marion? " he handed the bottle to the older, " i can't stand drinking this fucking shit. and i'm an alcoholic. " bambi opened up so easily, so freely, and he wasn't embarrassed one bit. he thought it made him cool, and that's all he wanted to be in marion's eyes. all of his validation came from the older boy, but bambi couldn't admit how clingy for his attention he was. " when i die, " he started so suddenly, eyes swimming in the other's, " hire strippers at my funeral. the older ladies with the tits hanging over their knees, i quite enjoy them. make sure you pay them well.  " and that's all he could say, as he took another sip of the motor oil-like drink in his bottle. a grimace ensued. " fuck. "

" and don't forget about me. please. "

[fockbambi]

200105 Golden Disc Awards © BLOSSOM SEASON

[fockbambi]

— ❝   When I write, it’s with you in mind. It’s with the hope that one day your eyes will grace my words, and your heart will match the rhythm my lines spelt out for you. If this is the closest we get then that will do. ❞ 

this turned out to look like a promo rather than a follow forever but yikes, i guess it’s because it’s been a while since i made one. getting back into the krp scene wasn’t easy. especially when you have a collection of muses which is the trifecta of krp’s most hated - older, straight and female muses. regardless of that, there are still those who are willing to write with me and i wanted to show my appreciation for them through these few words of mine. writing is a hobby, my getaway drug and even though i didn’t have the chance to pursue it as a career - you had given me the opportunity to do so.  ideas come and go, characters are created only to be abandoned the next, a promise of a long time friendship was made only to be broken but that’s the reality all of us have to accept whilst being here. even having said and understood that i am grateful and deeply honoured to be able to write with all of you and admire your writing, near and far.

may your 2019 end on a kind note and may 2020 be just as kind if not more to all of us.

@daysofbeingwise // @xxj0kerxx // @lonesomefew // @fockbambi // @woobinx // @glasstouch // @butlersrus // @gongyoohoo // @gcttago // @frequentdreams // @goodevcning // @velvetgazes // @103198 // @earthqucke // @moonedhalo // @starxstorm // @cosmicsvnflower // @serenxdipitous // @misterharington // @rcdflavcr // @flushedfloral // @trxnsmxgrify // @nobilitylost // @sunsetslvrs // @smokedashes // @chaekoku // @lveagain // @seekthelost // @rubcosis // @dclcomn // @thedarktriads // @anterocash // @gwcci // @bcyness // @dvizng // @busanbunnie // @glxryandgxre // @akm0ng

[fockbambi]

vernon and his lollipop.

[fockbambi]

When someone asks you where you see yourself in 5 years and you’re like buddy .. im just trying to make it to Friday

[fockbambi]

“ the saddest fear comes creeping in … that you never loved me. ”

( not accepting. )

" don't be a dumbass. "

words dripped out of bambi's lips, low, barely audible, like he was on autopilot and didn't even hear jiseok. that was just another one of his automated responses because his mind had wandered far, far away already. took a spaceship and travelled over to the next galaxy. bambi pulled out a crumpled cigarette from one of his pockets and flattened it as much as he could. fingers trembling, he created more folds in the thin white-ish paper, while bits of tobacco spilled out from the end. his eyes spectating the plight before redirecting towards jiseok. " don't say it like that. "

the two of them were sitting on the curb facing the back entrance of a glitzy bar, in a neglected alley only the most courageous could set foot in. bambi's legs were laying flat on the freezing concrete as he was hunched over the goddamn cigarette that would NOT go back to its original state, his hands becoming red as the cold seeped into his bones. with remixed pop music faintly booming from the building in front of them, he finally scooted a little closer to jiseok. " this kind of sucks. " he said, breath turning into a white fog. " sorry. "

for...being bambi, he was quite dapper. he was wearing a rich burgundy velvet suit jacket paired with a black dress shirt and bowtie, complete with black pants covered by a large skirt of the same color, of course. his hair was slicked back, giving way to his constantly-furrowed eyebrows. bambi finally placed the wrinkly cigarette between his lips, hands dug deep in his outfit in search of a lighter. any lighter at this point. " forgot i was para- pera- per-... hmm," he looked up at the night sky, the crisp air stinging every inch of his skin, yanking the cigarette out of his mouth for a second, " ...p e r m a n e n t l y banned from there. "

it was only a few hours ago bambi was trying his best to impress jiseok. what did he call it? ...oh yeah, a date. that's what it was. with every step of the day written on the palm of his hand so he wouldn't forget, he didn't expect them to say IT on the way to the rococo-inspired bar. to say that they l- lo-- to have confessed to bambi so promptly. that part wasn't written on bambi's hand, he couldn't have prepared for it. the rest of the day was almost a blur;

the silent car ride ( which, by the way, was an expensive car driven by someone other than bambi ), arriving at the bar only to be ferociously shoved away- something about bambi throwing fists and chairs at people months ago- only to be sitting in an abandoned back-alley while slowly freezing to death with no way to get home. he didn't even like his outfit.

bambi pulled on his bow to untie it, opening two or three buttons on his shirt so as not to choke on top of this all and ran a hand through his hair to undo everything that was done to it to make it look presentable. the cigarette's holding on for its dear life on the edge of his mouth, still very much not on fire. " ...you know i don't hate you, ji. " he's so terrified of the other's reaction he kept his head down, " i like you very very much, in fact. " a tiny smile pulled on his lips. " but you know me. "

...and that was the best response he could give. or maybe it was an excuse.

" anyway, i got you somethin'. " and from another mysterious pocket of his, bambi pulled out a small object wrapped in brown paper. he's already holding back laughter as he unrolled it, revealing an odd-looking rock. a little big, like a punching fist. " this-- i remember. " he said, looking like an excited child. " back when we were at school and- " his furrowed eyebrows cram even closer as he tried to recall the memory, " a-and people were botherin' you, but i got in the way when they threw this- " his hand held out the rock, " -and look, there's still my blood from those mon- those yea- uh, that long time ago, ha-haha. " bambi was a tad bit confused, but through it all he couldn't stop grinning. " i think it's better if you have it, might become a rock jus' like the others to me real soon, y'know. " he shrugged, the reality of losing his mind had become so normal to him.

" i-i promise it was gonna be more special. i'd have handed it to you over martinis on the rock, while some opera show was playing and all. hey, you should really go to this place one day, totally recommend it. " bambi pointed at the bar with a swift movement of his head, until he finally pulled out a cracked lighter from his clothes. he clicked it about thirty-seven times before a tiny flame came out of it, and gone just as quickly.

" fuck this bitch ass-fucking weather. "