Description
KooJasung
His life is a fistful of possibilities. moments each entangled, pennies clasped in sweaty palms. he's sorted and sifted through them all enough by now to know their worth, to trade them in without a blink of his eyes. never the miser for time, he squanders it all beneath leather footfalls and polished lacquer. after all, when you've grown so used to the monopolization of every iota of every breath you take, you lose the option to pick and choose. but... he was one of the lucky ones, who carved out paths that weren't even there.
koo jasung was birthed of a fairytale rearing. in a grand estate lavished to the nines by people who could only dream of buying dollhouses this grandiose for their children, jasung was arranged in only princely affairs. his family on either sides of his lineage was saturated in wealth, all for a bundle of reasons no one dared to question about. you see, when you've got old money coursing through blue veins, you've long ago earned the right to skip over the specifics. no one cared just how you got there, how many toes you crushed, how many shortcuts you scrambled for. all that mattered was that you made it. his father was rather open about his booming law firm. his mother, however, was less inclined to speak for herself. with astute grace coupled with an utterly piercing loom about her shoulders, she could easily be brandished as a mafioso daughter. some were quick to attempt to confirm this... but the proof, nor the accusers, were never seen after that. jasung was never at the right age to ask, and by the time he was, he found that he no longer gave a damn. all that mattered was that studies were to be sharp upon their schedule. etiquette was never an option even amidst the common class. suitors were a drift around every corner, waiting for a chance to pounce. all that mattered was that he was utterly and repugnantly stuck.
in all his years, jasung never quite saw the means of stability. he was certain it was a dying aspect the minute he walked in on his mother's infedility. at the tender age of eight, seeing the woman that bore him life cradling her legs around the waist of a man he'd never seen before... and would certainly never see the last of. it was a commonality apparently. he realized it amidst the whispers of the maidens when they assumed he was too young to pay attention. his mother actively enticed men from all over, inviting them to her quarters, even whisking them off to opulent voyages without her husband's stern brow present. his father, on the other hand, seemed no less clueless to it all than his son. but there was a helplessness that sank against the man's broad shoulders, deepened the creases in his cheeks. while his mother found her solace in the arms of other lovers, his father found his at the bottom of hard scotch. he was drunk enough to take it out on his son, drunk enough to reclaim a vulnerability he thought he lost as a babe. but never truly drunk enough to allow his business to sink.
by the cusp of his puberty, time had unraveled a reel before jasung that crumpled in his clenched hands. a bitterness nestled itself within the boy's tapered psyche, one waiting to swell at the last drop in the bucket. but the moment one of his mother's suitors, a man that seemed rather intent on treating jasung like the son he never had, forced himself on the boy's slighter frame--- a dam of all means broke. his unwilling and unready deflowering awoke something deviant within him, a desire to hurt... a desire to avenge. what began as him 'acting out' as a boy quickly morphed into something akin to a true threat as he got older. by his eighteenth birthday, his mother's suitors found the adonisian boy far more appealing a lover than his mother. it was a wrinkle to her delicate pride, but she had no grounds to lash out at him on account of her own trail of lies... and he made certain to blackmail her with each one. his father was far easier a man to disembowel, for the very heart of his strength lay in his business pursuits. and it turned out the pillars built on such shaky ground were as easy to upturn as a house of cards.
the law firm took the toll slowly, without an ounce of grace but a noble manner of effort. it started with anonymous tips, scandals that questioned the owner's reputation. jasung's father took the brunt of every remark, drawing blood from the bites at his lip taken from each attempt to restrain himself. composure was key to him, but in the eye of the public such a calm facade only dripped in guilt. jasung began dirty dealing under the tables, buying out his father's clients one by one with more promises fattening their pockets in exchange for cutting the cord on his father's business. the threat looming over the company definitely struck the hardest upon the koo family's marriage. jasung found himself awakening often to nights of glass bespeckling the walls, coarse voices barely even attempting to whisper with rage emboldening every lilt. his mother's ragged sobs became his lullabies, and he found a muse burrowed in the shadows beneath his father's sunken eyes. they were ruining themselves, and the young man was simply aiding them along with it.
he was in his early twenties when he finally vacated, abandoning his household without so much as a parting note. the tabloids claimed it was the last ditch effort of an innocent son who wanted to bow out of his parents' impending downfall. others likened him to a prodigal child, a man spreading his himself in a world that held nothing for him outside of his family's protective wing. but he'd siphoned out more than enough of his own share of wealth to make a living on his own. he wasn't keen on the idea of hiding, if anything he was certain that was what his father wanted of him... conceal himself, don't deliver the family anymore shame than has already been dealt. but with the heady taste of freedom scorching his lungs, jasung found the option all but impossible. his first few years away were spent like that of any other twenty-something. dripping cash in strip clubs, gambling the eventides away at lush casinos. but at the prospect of forever, he found himself sobering all but entirely. jasung, you see, found an irony in the dream his parents sought for him. to marry and create a life of prestige with an heir of his own. he found a mockery in the idea of it all, but entertained them nonetheless... perhaps it was phantom obedience, or perhaps the innate need to fulfill his own curiosity. needless to say, this erupted in a spring of cesspool marriages. some to those of his caliber who courted him into it. others to those who made it clear they sought the profit of betrothal. he was nonchalant in every endeavor, almost entirely absent. and each time he divorced or dumped or deserted, he left them with nothing but curdled memoirs and teethmarks against their thighs.
in the grand scheme of it all, jasung's torrent affairs and wreckless love life became something of an obsession to him. his thoughts drifted back to wherein it all had gone awry... to his father's fervent dedication to his business instead of his family. to his mother's lack of loyalty or general wholeheartedness at all. he analyzed every lover he ever took, calculated the heartbreaks even before he caused them. humans were fragile, careless creatures and it was clear he was no different. but instead of correcting or braving it head on, he sought to profit from it. like everything else that wronged him in his life, jasung sought to create a satire of it. his rise to fame as the runaway heir of a scandaled businessman was only the beginning of his proverbial spotlight. he drafted the show, 'love lockdown' as a chance to better observe the treacheries of matrimony. now in his later twenties and happily divorced (for what must be the umpteenth time), jasung devotes himself to watching instead of participating. he pulls the strings behind the scenes, gauges predictability where he knows it exists. and every now and again, he finds an exception... a fragment of intrigue that he opts to hold onto. a means to prove every thought, every belief, every life lesson--- to be utter bull.
OUT OF CHARACTER
NAME: i go by "viv" or my charrie's name.
TIMEZONE: GMT -6, yeee doggy das texas.
POV: DETAILED 1ST or 3rd.
STYLE: SEMI PARA to a healthy multipara, but novella me and istg you'll still be waiting for your response in 2020.
GENRES: the big a's (action, angst, adventure) + drama of any sort (pm me for my hard limits).
WARNINGS: i'm busy as ooc, not to mention i'm running the place... please be patient with my replies. poke me after a week or if you think you've been buried. but don't get offended if i lose muse (it's not you, it's hella me at this point).
i won't list plots below because, honestly, every character is so different and insanely unique. i can't think to squish them all into a pre-made mold that only really adheres to my character. if you want to plot, message me and we'll go for it (especially if you want to plot around their background interactions and relationships). but i really prefer winging these days to let our muse roam where it will. warning: i do throw in curveballs whoops.
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"Some souls just understand each other upon meeting."
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❝ Do not fall in love With people like me. people like me will love you so hard that you turn into stone, into a statue where people come to marvel at how long it must have taken to carve that faraway look into your eyes. Do not fall in love with people like me. we will take you to museums and parks and monuments and kiss you in every beautiful place so that you can never go back to them without tasting us like blood in your mouth. do not come any closer. people like me are bombs. when our time is up we will splatter loss all over your walls in angry colors that make you wish your doorway never learned our name. do not fall in love with people like me. with the lonely ones. we will forget our own names if it means learning yours, we will make you think hurricanes are gentle that pain is a gift. you will get lost in the desperation, in the longing for something that is always reaching but never able to hold. do not fall in love with people like me. we will destroy your apartment, we will throw apologies at you that shatter on the floor and cut your feet. we will never learn how to be soft. we will leave. we always do.❞
— caitlyn siehl.
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