why's that, hm ?

// bum: sangwoo, why won't you be more honest about your feelings sangwoo: . . . sangwoo:

strength . . lackeys. . tch. you really think that matters? i'm smarter than you, idiot.

"Tch. Best ways to kill a prostitute."

"Mm, I figured you might. Anything would look good on you though, my pretty boy."

Slowly leaves the basement in a hazmat suit. "... What's up, fuckers?"

"Hi, lovely. How's my favorite fucked up lover?"

He smirks, taking off the mask. "Hey, thanks. It's a worthy investment, man."

Clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Not gross, but definitely a bit unsettling."

Scratching dried blood off of his fingers.

It's very quiet in the house. Only the ticking of the clock can be heard, and the scribbling of pen on paper. Sangwoo is studying. Expression completely blank, looking slightly frustrated.

Tch. Why're people always hanging onto my arm..? Annoying as fuck.

Sharpening his collection of knives.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘉𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.” ⠀

i'll take care of you. it's rotten work. not to me. not if it's you.

"Ever been on an airplane?" Casually leans against his pulley system, eyebrows raised. Wrapping his fingers around the noose tied there. "Mm, let's get ready for take off.. ~"

// i stg i leave for like half a yr and then the muse hits me out of NOWHERE