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170724 Music Core Ulsan Summer Festival © angel b | do not edit. (1, 2, 3)

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170708 SMTown Live in Seoul © cherixiu | do not edit. (1, 2)

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swcrdiisms:

     for reasons unknown, witches seem to spark off his consciousness like      roman candles. in all his years, he’s never gotten used to the sensation      of someone letting a flare off inside his head, and so his instincts take      over, searching for the source of his sensory assault. ❝ hey, you. ❞

he isn’t doing anything peculiar -- not that he’s aware of -- so when a  stranger expresses interest in him (or whatever that hey you was considered), Jungmo can’t help but turn to face the source. he spins around on his  heels, chin tilted upward at a slight degree. “mwo?” the SUPERIOR isn’t too fond of interaction, so he hopes this is quick. 

“is there something wrong?” he plays safe, keeping the distance between  them. his reflexes have had quite enough time to improve over the past  HUNDRED years, so should he need to defend himself, he’s already  got a defense spell resting at the tip of his tongue. one mistake and he’ll let it slip, to which the opposite will not -- and shouldn’t -- win against him.

but this is JUST IN CASE. 

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swcrdiisms:

      adrenaline is a pretty great thing. there’s so much coursing through       his system that he’s yet to notice the wound in his forehead. all he       can think about is finding stiles. so he picks through the wreckage       on shaking legs, until he sees a familiar shape. not stiles, but       someone he cares about all the same. ❝ adrien? ❞ he yells over the       ringing in his ears, a hand landing on the other’s shoulder both to       steady himself and better catch adrien’s attention.

through the smoke and haze of teary eyes, Adrien can not see well as he struggles to feel his way through rubble and debris with his foot. his lungs  burn with every inhale, head pounding with a headache, but that does not distract him from his current mission; FIND NOAH. he’s anything but calm, worry possessing him as he trips over his own feet as well as fragments of who-knows-what. he keeps calling out for the boy but never gets a  response. when he finally DOES here his name called out, it isn’t by the  voice he’s hoping for or NEEDS to hear. it’s someone else’s, and when  the hand rests heavily upon his shoulder, he jumps slightly, looking back to see that it belonged to Michael. 

whereas it’s good to see the older man is alive, it doesn’t relieve him of  his current stress and panic. he’s not breaking down in tears because he’s happy to see him, but DISAPPOINTED that the person to have  found him WASN’T NOAH. it sounds awful, and he knows it does, but the younger escort is his main concern. “where is he?” he’s yelling, though he doesn’t realize because everything’s muffled. the ringing in his ears  overrides the sound of his own voice, which at this moment sounds  nothing more than a mumble.

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taintedlight:

“Why am I even here? This is your fault, you told me to break leg!” Ben complained, trying to get up but realising it was a bad idea when more pain shot through his leg and he grimaced. “See what you did!”

“yeah, THAT’S IT,” Jintaek scoffed, “i jinxed your ass. months ago i knew that by telling you to BREAK A LEG that it would actually happen. this E N T I R E predicament was plotted by no other than i, Lee Jintaek, just so you would break your fucking leg.” he watched as the other struggled to stand and the expression of pain that hit him. instinct told him to move forward and help him, but he was stubborn and SOBER now. with sobriety came reasoning, and his reasoning was not to show emotions toward anyone. not even this IDIOT he called his friend.

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swcrdiisms:

      ❝ aren’t you, like, twelve, anyway? it’s not like you’re hitting forty and       have wrinkles that need covering up. ❞ he knows there’s more to       makeup than that, but that’s all he can think of right now. not that       adrien might want to use it because he likes it, or because he wants       to accentuate his features, but because he wants to hide something.       it says more about michael, than it does adrien.

      he hums quietly at the touch he receives. he’s always liked people       fiddling with his hair, second only to playing with his back. ❝ i doubt it, ❞       he says, laughing, although he’d be willing to try if adrien would get a       kick out of it. ❝ unless you want to end up looking like a clown. ❞

Adrien rolls his eyes at the remark about his age. “i’m only a year younger than you,” he reminds him with a playful shove. “maybe even less than  that, so shut up. and makeup isn’t just about covering shit up. i don’t wear it because i think there’s anything wrong with my face.” hands fall from the other escort’s, moving to grab out his phone and position it. 

“i’m sending this to Perri,” he hums, but really he’s checking his messages. he knows very well the don will tease and he’d rather not deal with his coworker’s possible WHINING. granted, he’s not Noah, Adrien’s learned his lesson about taking pictures without permission. 

“makeup is art, you know. your face is the canvas.”

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grimnephilim:

        “A week for the head, and two for the arm,” Cheonsa deadpanned, focusing on making sure his work was pristine. It was, as usual, especially in crisis. “But you’ll be fine. No other serious injuries to be worried about. However, I’ve been asked to keep you here until the police can get our statement about what happened.”

he didn’t see the point in staying behind to be questioned about things he couldn’t answer. all he knew or could remember was being at the bar with Ben, getting wasted off of some dumb shots game. other than recalling stupid comments and actions made, the man had no information to offer that would possibly aid police.

“when the hell are they getting here?” was he expected to stay confined in this one room until they showed up? that could be forever.  

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Chanyeol at ULSAN Summer Festival  

cr.

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this look on him 🙏 ✨

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music core ulsan summer festival

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170708 SMTown Live in Seoul © dear my d.o | do not edit.

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just like or  © byunbaekhywun, thanks! °☆.。.:

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170708 SMTown Live in Seoul © lofhyuny456 | do not edit.

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© suhofav

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my favourite concept 

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swcrdiisms:

      it crosses his mind to ignore jintaek and just keep walking. their last       altercation left a sour taste in his mouth that he’s yet to shed,       especially when he thinks about ben. but he figures he’ll probably       end up dead sooner by ignoring him, than by sucking it up and       talking to him. so he wanders over to him, trying not to look as       reluctant as he feels. ❝ what are you, my mom? ❞ he asks,       frowning. he didn’t know what to expect, but he definitely didn’t       expect a scolding. ❝ is it bold and stupid to want to keep hold of my       client? we all have a job to do, don’t we? i don’t play nice when       people stop me from tryng to do my job. ❞

he chooses to SKIP over the SARCASM because he knows if he doesn't, there will be a fight. this time fists will fly and he has no plans on being the one with a broken nose. 

he inhales, biting back an insult and choosing his next words carefully.  "that sounds HYPOCRITICAL considering you were interrupting HIS job. i don't know how dumb you have to be--"   or not.  "--to think you had a right to interrupt M E while i was speaking with my E M P L O Y E E, but both of your dicks  could have fucking waited. and you know what? that’s exactly why it’s your fault he was fired.”  Jintaek was pissed for many reasons.  "that's funny, though. i'on play nice either, and usually the other person ends up with a bullet in their ass. so if you wanna keep putting on the TOUGH GUY front, i'll show you mine too, because right now i'm being NICE AS FUCK.  if for any reason there’s another event and you try pulling  that shit again, on G O D it’ll be the last thing you ever do  because i will kill you.”

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HE’S NOT A FAN of needing stitches, though he supposes it could’ve been worse. he could’ve been one of the few with missing limbs. OR DEAD. but he was here, alive and once again mastering the art of COMPLAINING. the doctor must not have it easy, having to help tend to many of them thanks to whatever the fuck happened back there. he could barely recall anything past a flash and things flying. he’d been drunk and whatever happened knocked him straight into sobriety (( and on his ass, too )). 

“how long do these need to stay in?”  he grumbled, a green gaze washing over carefully done sutures. 

@grimnephilim // the world is yours