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draino2024-09-07 10:00 am
saltburnmods) wrote in draino2024-09-07 10:00 am
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π πππ'π ππππππππ ππππ πππππππππ ππππ β£ SEPT TDM
SEPTEMBER 2024 TDM: LUGHNASADH
Welcome to SALTBURNT, a panfandom smut/thriller game based off the film Saltburn, where characters are encouraged to indulge their deepest desires. The money never runs out and the liquor never stops pouring, so you may as well indulge from the bounty. Of course, things are rarely what they seem, and the manor itself seems to have a consciousness of its own. Throw parties, trash the house, engage in youthful merriment, but remember β dangers come out at night, and no one, no matter how rich you are, is safe from demons lurking in the shadows.
Threads can be considered game canon, provided the players agree. Players can also start fresh upon acceptance into the game. In game characters can post to the TDM directly, using Β« NEW CHARACTER/IN GAMEΒ» in the header. There will be a spot below for new characters to link their toplevels for easy access. Alternatively, prompts on the Test Drive can be used for in game logs.
WELCOME TO SALTBURNT
It's the hangover more than the light streaming in through half drawn curtains that wakes you up, your brain rattling in your skull, your mouth dry and cottony, your stomach churning with whatever it is you drank last night. If self preservation is your strong suit, you might turn over in bed and see a few painkillers laid out for you on a silver dish, accompanied by a glass of water. If it isnβt, stay in bed and wallow β eventually a maid will be in to tear your curtains open, saying, "Breakfast is served," and scurrying out quietly, invisibly. Breakfast? Maybe itβs normal for you. Maybe it isnβt.
You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenβt you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?
EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.
πππ πππππ: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
ππππ ππππππππ: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
ππππ πππππππππππ: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
πππ ππππππ: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
ππππ π πππππππππ: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
πππππππ ππππ: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
πππ ππππππππππ: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
β momofuku's "cereal milk" β
β fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss β
β a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping β
β a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling β
β poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection β
If you want to leave, youβll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as heβs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereβs no reason why you canβt just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesnβt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canβt make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesnβt dissipate, though β this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?
Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, itβs all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.
"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."
You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenβt you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?
EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.
That said, these are world class chefs, so the gold is really in the menu:
THE EGGS
πππ πππππ: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
ππππ ππππππππ: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
ππππ πππππππππππ: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
πππ ππππππ: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
ππππ π πππππππππ: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
πππππππ ππππ: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
πππ ππππππππππ: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
THE SWEETS
β fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss β
β a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping β
β a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling β
β poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection β
If you want to leave, youβll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as heβs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereβs no reason why you canβt just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesnβt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canβt make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesnβt dissipate, though β this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?
Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, itβs all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.
"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."
ITSY BITSY TEENIE WEENIE
CONTENT WARNINGS: drugs, alcohol, nudity, potential for nsfw.
POOLSIDE PLAYLIST courtesy of Robin
It's an innocent enough, offhand suggestion from the mouth of one (1) DIARMUID about wanting to learn how to paint, and honestly, the house couldn't agree more: a party is necessary. As August winds down, it's important to go out with a bang, and what better way than through an explosive end of summer pool party? To say goodbye to the waning summer nights, the manor is throwing a pool party with an artistic neon twist. Per the growing complications of everyone's relationship status in this new age of bisexuality, polygamy, and pegging, glow-in-the-dark bracelets with matching solo cups have been set out with the appropriate labels βΒ TAKEN, SINGLE, OPEN, and IT'S COMPLICATED, depending on your interest. Lounge by the water in your cutest bikini or trunks or nothing at all and engage in some very relaxing full-body painting using the supplies provided β that is, the paint is supplied, though brushes and sponges are few and far between. Better just to use your own body to paint your masterpiece. Put yourself on display as a model by the pool, or engage in a brutally competitive game of chicken fights, wherein the loser loses their clothes and the winner gets to keep them.
Not your style? Sneak off somewhere more private like the twinkling gardens illuminated with multicolored tiki lamps, lakeside decorated with bio-luminescent rocks, or the (perfectly safe, wolfless, we promise) maze to indulge in your inner desires. You might find that certain colors glow beneath the moonlight and unlock desires youβve kept tightly under lock and key. It's hard not to feel impulsive or unrestrained under the full moon's light, with your body paint as armor. People might appear more attractive to you under this witching light like a magic spell cast β but really, you havenβt had any trouble with that, here. Have you?
If youβre thirsty, the house has tasked RICHIE, CARMY, and SANJI (dressed as cabana boys) with an extensive poolside drinks menu, since theyβve been so helpful with breakfast. Thanks, boys. Ask them for anything. In fact, ask them for everything. They're here to serve.
As the night closes out, turn your eyes heavenward for a spectacular fireworks show. Many apologies to those of you who suffer from PTSD; you can head inside for an early night and cover your ears with a pillow, but do be careful not to suffocate yourself, unless you're into that. The fireworks shimmer and shatter, and those watching closely might start to see hidden messages written in the stars for you, though is that your eyes playing tricks? Better ask that friend youβre snuggled up with. As anxiety weighs a little heavier on your heart, you might feel compelled to confess a few secrets on this last night of summer, big or small, something loving or not. Seek out that destructive habit, or take some steps toward healing. Let the fireworks drown out the noise.
POOLSIDE PLAYLIST courtesy of Robin
It's an innocent enough, offhand suggestion from the mouth of one (1) DIARMUID about wanting to learn how to paint, and honestly, the house couldn't agree more: a party is necessary. As August winds down, it's important to go out with a bang, and what better way than through an explosive end of summer pool party? To say goodbye to the waning summer nights, the manor is throwing a pool party with an artistic neon twist. Per the growing complications of everyone's relationship status in this new age of bisexuality, polygamy, and pegging, glow-in-the-dark bracelets with matching solo cups have been set out with the appropriate labels βΒ TAKEN, SINGLE, OPEN, and IT'S COMPLICATED, depending on your interest. Lounge by the water in your cutest bikini or trunks or nothing at all and engage in some very relaxing full-body painting using the supplies provided β that is, the paint is supplied, though brushes and sponges are few and far between. Better just to use your own body to paint your masterpiece. Put yourself on display as a model by the pool, or engage in a brutally competitive game of chicken fights, wherein the loser loses their clothes and the winner gets to keep them.
Not your style? Sneak off somewhere more private like the twinkling gardens illuminated with multicolored tiki lamps, lakeside decorated with bio-luminescent rocks, or the (perfectly safe, wolfless, we promise) maze to indulge in your inner desires. You might find that certain colors glow beneath the moonlight and unlock desires youβve kept tightly under lock and key. It's hard not to feel impulsive or unrestrained under the full moon's light, with your body paint as armor. People might appear more attractive to you under this witching light like a magic spell cast β but really, you havenβt had any trouble with that, here. Have you?
If youβre thirsty, the house has tasked RICHIE, CARMY, and SANJI (dressed as cabana boys) with an extensive poolside drinks menu, since theyβve been so helpful with breakfast. Thanks, boys. Ask them for anything. In fact, ask them for everything. They're here to serve.
As the night closes out, turn your eyes heavenward for a spectacular fireworks show. Many apologies to those of you who suffer from PTSD; you can head inside for an early night and cover your ears with a pillow, but do be careful not to suffocate yourself, unless you're into that. The fireworks shimmer and shatter, and those watching closely might start to see hidden messages written in the stars for you, though is that your eyes playing tricks? Better ask that friend youβre snuggled up with. As anxiety weighs a little heavier on your heart, you might feel compelled to confess a few secrets on this last night of summer, big or small, something loving or not. Seek out that destructive habit, or take some steps toward healing. Let the fireworks drown out the noise.
FRUITS OF LABOUR
CONTENT WARNINGS: body horror, gore, cannibalism.
Saying goodbye to summer means welcoming in the new season, and as August nights turn into September mornings, the landscape of the grounds changes from verdant greens to egg yolk yellow and sunburnt orange, a gradient of autumnal colors. To that end, a week long festival erects outside to enjoy the last of the year's good weather β a generous harvest bounty fills up tables and tables of ample displays, full of ripened fruits and fresh baked breads, baked potatoes roasted in the coals of a bonfire, sausages, wheels of cheese, marshmallows, cider and apple juice, tomato soup, apple and blackberry compote, rhubarb crumble, all richly decorated in sunset hues. Among the servings, anyone with a birthday in August or September will find themselves a individualized cake, perhaps with some motif to define them, otherwise just with the harvest decorations of gourds, leaves, wheat, and fruit. Alongside that, a new smaller maze has been made from hay bales on the lawn. During the day it's just a silly and fun maze, but at night it takes on a new form and characters can easily become lost and find themselves in a maze that seems to go on forever, with the ominous lowing of a bull somewhere in the distance. Luckily, everyone is released at daybreak, maybe a little traumatized, but all in one piece.
What would a festival be, without some games to indulge in? Around the celebratory grounds, there are four pumpkins painted gold, hidden around the festival. Anyone who finds one is entitled to a boon from your very generous hosts (join the race HERE). Hunting not to your tastes after the last few goose chases? No worries, there's plenty still to do β from apple bobbing, jumping over bonfires, throwing discus/shotput, horseshoes, and more, it's a festival jam packed with games and prizes to be won, from little jars of handmade jam from France, to stuffed chicken plushies, to tin cans with the labels ripped off, full of ... well, it's anyone's guess, really. Crack it open and find out!
In honor of the handfasting ceremony, characters are selected at random and tied together at the wrist, much to everyone's amusement. Once knotted, the ribbon will not give way under any physical or magical duress, meaning you'll be stuck together until the tie undoes on its own. It could be day, a night, two nights, or more, but it seems like the ribbon is waiting for something in particular βΒ a genuine heart to heart, maybe? Consummating the marriage? Hopefully you like the person you're tied to, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with your temporary spouse, in immediately close quarters.
At the end of the week, there's a final end of summer ceremony, wherein the vampire ARMAND is given special homage for being an especially adored guest, donned in floral regalia and ordained with crowns of flowers, much to his growing malcontent. In fact, he and all the vampires present in house seem to be given the regal treatment from the staff with less grand flower crowns of their own, honored at the head of the festival's final gluttonous table, lined with naked, giggling bodies covered in autumnal produce, sprouting mushrooms, blooming flowers, and distinctly meaty dishes β steak and kidney pie, blood sausage, pumpkins stuffed with zebra meat. It's only after you drink the wildflower tea and locally (Very, Locally) crafted beer that things start to feel a little off. The happy bodies used as serving platters look sometimes, between one blink and the next, like masticated corpses, the gourds and fruits set more deeply in the cornucopia their opened chest cavities make. Despite that, there's no real sense of death in the air β get a better look, and you might find the veins of the dead work more like the vines for the plants, giving them life.
The question becomes: which is the hallucination? The smiling faces or the blooming corpses?
Though hysteria rankles through the crowd the more people come to terms with the visions they're seeing, given the population at the head of the table, it's a fairly easy riddle to crack. Can vampires eat the cursed food? In short: yes, they can. Sorry we made you eat people again.
Saying goodbye to summer means welcoming in the new season, and as August nights turn into September mornings, the landscape of the grounds changes from verdant greens to egg yolk yellow and sunburnt orange, a gradient of autumnal colors. To that end, a week long festival erects outside to enjoy the last of the year's good weather β a generous harvest bounty fills up tables and tables of ample displays, full of ripened fruits and fresh baked breads, baked potatoes roasted in the coals of a bonfire, sausages, wheels of cheese, marshmallows, cider and apple juice, tomato soup, apple and blackberry compote, rhubarb crumble, all richly decorated in sunset hues. Among the servings, anyone with a birthday in August or September will find themselves a individualized cake, perhaps with some motif to define them, otherwise just with the harvest decorations of gourds, leaves, wheat, and fruit. Alongside that, a new smaller maze has been made from hay bales on the lawn. During the day it's just a silly and fun maze, but at night it takes on a new form and characters can easily become lost and find themselves in a maze that seems to go on forever, with the ominous lowing of a bull somewhere in the distance. Luckily, everyone is released at daybreak, maybe a little traumatized, but all in one piece.
What would a festival be, without some games to indulge in? Around the celebratory grounds, there are four pumpkins painted gold, hidden around the festival. Anyone who finds one is entitled to a boon from your very generous hosts (join the race HERE). Hunting not to your tastes after the last few goose chases? No worries, there's plenty still to do β from apple bobbing, jumping over bonfires, throwing discus/shotput, horseshoes, and more, it's a festival jam packed with games and prizes to be won, from little jars of handmade jam from France, to stuffed chicken plushies, to tin cans with the labels ripped off, full of ... well, it's anyone's guess, really. Crack it open and find out!
In honor of the handfasting ceremony, characters are selected at random and tied together at the wrist, much to everyone's amusement. Once knotted, the ribbon will not give way under any physical or magical duress, meaning you'll be stuck together until the tie undoes on its own. It could be day, a night, two nights, or more, but it seems like the ribbon is waiting for something in particular βΒ a genuine heart to heart, maybe? Consummating the marriage? Hopefully you like the person you're tied to, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with your temporary spouse, in immediately close quarters.
At the end of the week, there's a final end of summer ceremony, wherein the vampire ARMAND is given special homage for being an especially adored guest, donned in floral regalia and ordained with crowns of flowers, much to his growing malcontent. In fact, he and all the vampires present in house seem to be given the regal treatment from the staff with less grand flower crowns of their own, honored at the head of the festival's final gluttonous table, lined with naked, giggling bodies covered in autumnal produce, sprouting mushrooms, blooming flowers, and distinctly meaty dishes β steak and kidney pie, blood sausage, pumpkins stuffed with zebra meat. It's only after you drink the wildflower tea and locally (Very, Locally) crafted beer that things start to feel a little off. The happy bodies used as serving platters look sometimes, between one blink and the next, like masticated corpses, the gourds and fruits set more deeply in the cornucopia their opened chest cavities make. Despite that, there's no real sense of death in the air β get a better look, and you might find the veins of the dead work more like the vines for the plants, giving them life.
The question becomes: which is the hallucination? The smiling faces or the blooming corpses?
Though hysteria rankles through the crowd the more people come to terms with the visions they're seeing, given the population at the head of the table, it's a fairly easy riddle to crack. Can vampires eat the cursed food? In short: yes, they can. Sorry we made you eat people again.
DIRECTORY
no subject
She's recounting when they met, something he doesn't quite remember, although as she describes it he can see flashes of it, distant though they are.]
I didn't kill myself.
[He points out, because he didn't. Whether he remembers clearly right now or not, that much is obvious. What she had said and done on the roof that day had been enough to stay Hyunsu's hand at least for awhile. Whether she took him back to her apartment that day or not, he lived. He's still alive.
He tilts his head as he watches her eat. Beyond the reminder that he didn't actually commit suicide, he doesn't argue that the human side of him can be pathetic and lame, he's very aware. He's even pointed out to her himself that he's weak, but she stood up for him.]
You say all that like you're complaining, but that's the Cha Hyunsu you want back, isn't it?
no subject
Yeah. ( she can't deny that. ) Ah. Well.
( but it's not the full truth of it. she thinks about the paper eunhyuk wrote when he started having symptoms, and thinks about what she would've done if he went through them with her. she wouldn't have been reasonable about it β she wouldn't have killed him, not in a million years. the monster still would've been eunhyuk, the way hyunsu is still hyunsu. )
They say monsterization is a curse. You're not a parasite or an infection, or anything new. There isn't anything in you that wasn't already there to begin with. Isn't that the truth? ( the science of it is all a little over her head and out of her expertise, if she's honest. but the point, ) I think ... all I want is Hyunsu. And I think you're a part of that. You're just β repressing the softer half of you, maybe. I don't know how it works. ( with a huff of a breath. ) I'd be happy if I could have both. I won't stop fighting for that.
no subject
And he listens, watching her, taking in her body language, the subtle ways her facial expressions shift when she speaks. She may be on to something, whether he wants to admit it or not. If Cha Hyunsu represses the rage inside him to keep the monster at bay, it's possible that the monster is simply doing the opposite. But even this part of Hyunsu doesn't feel any real rage toward Eunyu the way he does at the rest of humanity. He feels frustration sometimes, maybe, but it's different. It comes from a different place.
His anger is a result of mistreatment and neglect, the fact that no one helped him when they should have. But Eunyu is different. In her own way she's always tried to encourage him and be there for him. She did what she could with what she had and that was more than anyone else had ever done for him.
Finally, after a moment of reflection, he responds:]
I could be soft. For you.
no subject
I thought you would say that was weak.
( eunyu doesn't think so. if anything, hyunsu is the opposite.
clenching her jaw a little, she gestures him over to her with grabby fingers, encouraging him to stand in front of her, between her legs bent over the edge of the table. )
Prove it. ( how soft can he be? eunyu doesn't think it's wise to tempt any kind of monster, but hyunsu is different for all the aforementioned reasons. having him close isn't anything but a comfort. ) Stand here and close your eyes.
no subject
He watches the muscle in her jaw clinch as she makes her decision and when she tells him to prove it he pushes himself smoothly away from the counter, moving to stand between her legs just like she directed.
The hardest part is closing his eyes. Not necessarily because he's afraid (even if she decided to stab him, it's not like it would kill him), but because he likes looking at her. In the end, of course, he obeys, and closes his eyes. If nothing else, he's curious.]
Now what?
no subject
You like it when I touch you?
( her voice is low, suggestive. testing the water. )
Keep them closed.
no subject
Mmm.
[The hum comes in response to her question. Low in his chest, a sound of agreement that that's bordering on needy. She's touching him the same way he's been tempted to touch her. This may be better, though. He's not sure. No part of Hyunsu can remember ever being touched like this before, but he knows he likes it, and the temptation to completely melt into her touch is so powerful it makes him feel a little lightheaded. His pulse has kicked up in speed again, but he still manages to keep his eyes closed.]
no subject
And this?
( hands flatten on his chest, through the opening in his shirt. she lets out a soft breath, her fingers slipping inside to outline where her eyes can't reach. )
I was trying to sound cool, before. I wouldn't have invited you to my apartment. I've never done that kind of thing before. ( softer this time, ) Don't open.
no subject
Yeah.
[He likes this too. It's obvious, isn't it? He's sure she can feel the way his heart is pounding with her hands resting on his chest.
He gives a lazy shrug at her confession, an offer of reassurance. Or an attempt at one, at any rate.]
I haven't either.
[He's endured a lot more violence than he has affection or tenderness or sex. They're on equal footing there, more or less.
He huffs softly, his lips twitching upward, though his eyes remain closed.]
I won't open them until you tell me to.
cw: self-harm injury
a hand slips to the side, over one broad shoulder, down his arm. it's the one that's sometimes a wing, but it's normal now β except for the bumpy scars her fingertips trail along, mapping out the roadwork of hyunsu's pain. if he cast his wing out now, she'd be down a hand. the thought is terrifying, enthralling. )
You won't, huh.
( she lifts up his arm, hesitating a second, before licking across one of the horizontal scars. her cheek settles in the center of his wide palm. )
Is it a good memory, Cha Hyunsu? Do you feel soft?
( asked, while her spare hand slips under the hem of his shirt, laying flat on his abs. )
no subject
And then her cheek is in his hand and she's asking him a question and he's so overwhelmed that it takes him a moment to make sense of what she's saying, let alone find a way to respond.]
I'm...[He falters a little, licking his lips and swallowing again.] I don't think... "soft"...is the right word.
[Or, not entirely, anyway. The throbbing between his legs is not soft. It's the opposite of soft. But the instinct to lean into her touch, to pull her closer, to wrap his arms around her...those are soft. They're probably the softest thoughts this part of him has ever had.]
no subject
leaning in, she presses her forehead against his shoulder, rolling her head forward until she can nuzzle his throat, smelling the chlorine and sweat off his skin. every time she's hugged him, she's gone face first into his chest β it's nice to be up closer, to feel the heat from his bobbing throat on her mouth. she's seen him sport dozens of wounds in the exact place she's nuzzling, but the skin is perfectly mended now, a flat surface for her to press her mouth on, in a small kiss. )
I used to think I'd never be happy again. ( her arms wind around him, pulling herself closer to him in a cling. ) Then you came back to me.
no subject
He's not even sure which him she's talking about. He's come back to her more than once now, both as a human and a monster, so maybe it doesn't matter. All that matters is the way it feels when she nuzzles his neck.
He leans into her, instinctively wanting to be closer but hesitating to put his arms around her becomes something in the back of his mind is telling him he doesn't want her to feel trapped. But when she presses her lips to his throat he realizes that maybe there is a word for this feeling, after all.]
This is a happy memory.
no subject
she doesn't. not yet. instead, and so low he wouldn't hear her if he was any further away, ) Open.
( she wants to see if happiness makes a difference. if this is how she gets hyunsu to be hyunsu then it's easy, even enjoyable βΒ he can be soft for her, and she'll change the world for him. )
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So, stubbornly, he stays. And when he hears her whisper for him to open his eyes, his head tilts slightly, and he opens them slowly. They're still blue and not quite human, though perhaps the expression behind them is a little less sharp and hard than earlier.
He blinks a couple of times as his eyes adjust to the lights again and he focuses on her face. She's...so close to him. He knew that she was, of course, he could feel it, but seeing it is different. His breath catches as his mouth goes dry again. His gaze flickers quickly to her lips and then back to eyes.]
Eunyu?
[That's all he can bring himself to say at the moment. Her name with a question mark, because he doesn't want to ask the question that's really on his mind. If she's done, and is this where the memory ends.]
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it's a confusing moment β not because his eyes are blue, but because in the breath of time before he opens, she has no idea what she'll do if they're brown. rehash this entire conversation? try to explain why her legs are nearly around his waist, her breath on his lips? she's not sure she could explain it, if she tried. a failed experiment, or a successful one. hyunsu's monster hands are still not on her, and she likes it a little too much βΒ not because she doesn't want to be touched, but because she likes that he's waiting for her. that if she doesn't give the green light, he won't go any further. like he, as he's always felt, is something that was made just for her.
even the monster. ) Stay still.
( pausing for a second, she leans in and kisses him. it's not an especially bold kiss β more light, dipping her toes into frigid water to see if she can stomach it. she thinks she can. she knows she can, but she doesn't push it, pressing their foreheads together and sucking on her lower lip, eyes falling closed. )
I have to talk to him before I do anything else. ( deep breath. pretending her heart isn't racing. ) Maybe that's how I'll win our bet.
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But maybe she didn't want him to. His head is spinning when she presses her forehead to his and once again it takes a few seconds for mind to catch up with her words.]
Him--? Cha Hyunsu. [He sounds...bemused actually. Like he's not sure how offended he should be, or if he should be offended at all. They did make a bet, after all, and she seems to be playing to win. He can respect that. Still, he sounds more sullen than he really intends to when he continues:] Would you want to talk to me if it were reversed?
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Who do you think I am?
( sighing eye roll, eyes going up to the sky, annoyed she has to pull her heart out for him to look at. then again β this is hyunsu. heβs worth it, isnβt he? every time. her eyes find his again, with intention. hyunsu never gave up on her, and sheβll never give up on him. )
I want Hyunsu. Youβre part of that. I just kissed you β donβt you think that means I like you?
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But it's interesting that she could tell he was feeling that way even when he didn't say it. Even more interesting that she's trying to soothe him.]
Yeah. [and then after a moment he adds:] I always thought he was stupid for wanting you, but never doing anything about it.
[But he's sort of starting to get it now that he's in the driver's seat. She was always waiting for Hyunsu, but he has to wait for her, too. He can't act on what he wants until they're both ready.]
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( at least by her, probably. other people β¦ well, who knows? she wonders if this is the closest a person has ever gotten to a monster that wasnβt killing them. the thought makes her thrilled again, the borderline between fear and excitement. pressing her lips together, she leans back, tilting her chin to stare at him a little imperiously. )
Letβs make another deal.
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I'm being nice.
[Isn't he? He's making an effort. He didn't kill any of those people that touched him. Then again maybe calling his other self stupid isnβt nice, but it's not like he'd let anyone else get away with calling him that.
But then she has him intrigued again. He blinks.]
Oh? What deal?
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If I can convince you back inside, I can convince him back inside, too.
( maybe. itβs a ploy. ultimately itβll be hyunsuβs decision on where he wants to be β but she canβt deny that playing both sides of him feels cruel if she isnβt interested in both. and she is. so, )
I wonβt do anything to him that I donβt do to you, first. ( she squints. ) So if you want more, youβll have to bring Hyunsu out.
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He huffs, impressed.]
Huh. You're pretty good at this. [He cocks his head, curious.] Do you want me to go back inside now?
[He's not necessarily offering, he's just wondering. Because the position they're in is...well, it's something isn't it. Hyunsu's not complaining. And he doubts his other self would either (surely, he's not that stupid). But Eunyu might have a different perspective.]
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so. the question is less do you want him now? and more are you ready for more? it's barely even a question. she nods once, a firm yes, flattening her hands back on his chest.
wryly, )
Should I hit you again to make it easier?
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The fact of the matter is, Hyunsu talked a big game about holding the human side of him back, but in reality he's not sure how this works. Especially here, in this place, where the energy makes everything strange. He knows he tends to wake once Cha Hyunsu--the human in him--has reached a certain limit, either physical or emotional or both. The ordeal with Yi-kyeong took a lot out of him. Essentially, he's dormant because he needed to rest, and neither side of Hyunsu has ever woken the other side on purpose, because he wanted it. It was always a matter of desperation or necessity. Or headbutts.
So it's almost tempting to take her up on the offer. At least it's proven effective.
He doesn't, though. It would be pretty embarrassing if he made a deal with her and couldn't follow through properly without her punching him in the face. Instead he concentrates, his gaze going distant for a few moments. It's not as hard at the moment to find his humanity as it might have been even just a few hours ago. And it's easier than expected to give it a little nudge, too.
Eunyu will see his eyes go black, dark veins creeping outward for a second or two before fully receding back inward and his eyes fade into his natural brown.
He doesn't say anything immediately, because this is a little disorienting. He blinks a few times, trying to focus and make sense of what's happening.]
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