𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒

penned by joy

[archivedblog0725]

A FAMILIAR FACE

minkyung smoothed down the pleats of her hand-me-down skirt, a little too long after her mom had mended it for siyeon. her second oldest sister, ever the most glamorous of the na family, had a growth spurt her final year of high school and required all her skirts to be longer as well. it brushed against the back of her knees, not quite long enough for her mom to think about shortening it. who knows, maybe minkyung will grow taller as well.

she’s seated herself by the window, pulling out a notebook and pen even though she’ll probably be made to move when the teacher reassigns them alphabetically. even still, she liked the comfort of being prepared, of seeing her name written neatly at the top corner of the notebook. siyeon and eunwoo had been in this class before, and minkyung has already braced herself for the comments she’s sure to receive. she is in the midst of wondering whether the teacher will think her more like siyeon or eunwoo when she feels a tap on her shoulder. turning, she makes eye contact with a familiar face, although she can’t immediately place it. he mentions orientation, then she remembers. they had been in a group, going around introducing themselves politely and waiting for the principal to call them back as a whole. she remembers one of the girls afterwards had said she was jealous that minkyung was grouped with such a cute classmate. he is cute, she thinks, if a little ruffled. “yes. i mean, no. you can sit. yeonguk, right?”

“yep !” he pops the ‘p’, emphasizing the consonant, preening that she remembered him, but those feelings of elation are quickly squashed when he cannot recall her name, no matter how hard he digs through his cranium for it. he gnaws on his bottom lip, tugging supple flesh between his teeth as he hastily settles into the seat beside her. he unpacks his belongings, sliding a heap of notebooks, stray sheets of paper, and pens onto his desk as he wracks his useless brain for a name to put to her pretty face. it is then, in his desperation, that he spies from the corner of his eye, her name neatly printed on to front of her notebook. in the span of the few seconds he spent panicking, he finally manages to turn her way, thanking her properly once he’s struck gold. “thank you, minkyung-ssi ! appreciate it—” his eyes crinkle, a smile spreading on his face before he whips his head around in reaction for the classroom door opening, their teacher entering and demanding their attention. “—we can talk later !—” he whispers, turning his body away from her to face the front of the room.

pleasantries were made ( who still did introductions in this day and age ? they weren’t in primary anymore ! ) and class conduct, as well as the standard students were being held to, was explained thoroughly at length, taking nearly all of class, learning absolutely nothing. it would appear that high school would be no different from primary, after all. and as the bell tolled, signifying the end of their first class, students rose and bent at the waist, giving thanks for the waste of time that had been. as the teacher leaves, conversation broke out amongst the students. not wanting to seem unsociable, yeonguk turns his attention back to minkyung, an easygoing smile already plastered unto his face. “this is probably rather forward, but you’re probably my only friend right now, and i was wondering if you’d like to eat lunch together later ? maybe we’ll run into the rest of our orientation group along the way ! it’ll be fun.”

[larmoyante]

She laughs, and the sound of it crinkles in my chest like a candy wrapper in a quiet room. I want more.

Elissa Janine Hoole, Kiss The Morning Star (via larmoyante)

[archivedblog0725]

hello everyone !  just a notice that i’ll be putting this blog on a semi-hiatus due to school and work. i should be back full-time by oct. 1st ! if anything, you can still catch me on discord 🤙🏼

[jctlag]

` ♡ — I WANT YOU TO CAVE ME IN.

[archivedblog0725]

SEOL

seol’s never thought for a moment that anything she’s seen in her guilty pleasure maeobsa movies would actually happen in real life. there’s no way that everything’s going to slow around her when she looks at her love interest, because everything in those stupid fucking movies are exaggerated to high heaven.

but on god, she swears the earth stops spinning for the briefest of seconds when yonghwa looks at her. cheol hisses a ‘is he SMILING? oh my god, seol, he’s smiling! at you!’, smacking her again and again on the thigh like an overexcited toddler. seol doesn’t bat his hands away like she usually would, though, because yonghwa’s smiling at her and nothing else really matters.

everything else happens too fast.

cheol just says that it’s because she hadn’t been paying attention to anything else but him, but she can’t quite find it in herself to retort with something snappy when she’s on the verge of throwing up. she’d elected to wait until mostly everyone had cleared out to get ready for the victory party baek ho were hosting before making her way down to the locker rooms, but all that’s done is given her time to get in her head and freak out as cheol neatly pushes a few silver bobby pins into her hair and dots some tint on her lips. her brother recognises the look on her face, and he conjures up a paper bag for her to breathe into. just in case.

she ends up doing origami with it as she lingers outside the locker room. she manages to fold it into a heart, a crane, and halfway to a frog before the door swings open. her shy inquiry as to his whereabouts are met with teasing remarks from every single player filing out the locker room, until the keeper, who’s the last to trudge out, takes pity on her and tells her yonghwa’d still been in the shower the last he remembered.

the ‘get some!’ from one of the chasers is cut off by the door closing heavily behind her. the sound’s almost too loud in the silence of locker room, a far cry from the raucous victory celebration in the bleachers that had been on-going just 15 minutes earlier. it’s only through her sheer strength of her iron han willpower that she calls out a shaky “hey!”, before almost immediately regretting every life decision she’s made that’s led her to this point.

well, she’s already made her presence known. seol has a mission to accomplish, and she’s not leaving without having finished it. there’s a row of lockers that’s separating the both of them, and she makes her way towards the benches in front of them. “um, i’m gonna cover my eyes, since i don’t know if you’re decent or not.” i damn well hope you are.

“let me know when you’re like… done… changing. i’ll just be here. no rush.” the last sentence is tacked on like it’s an afterthought. it’s more for her sake, really. take your time so i can get myself together. balancing herself on the edge of the bench, seol stares at the tiled floor through the gaps in her fingers. they really should get the house-elves to regrout it soon.

it is with a lifted spirit and renewed vigor that yonghwa manages to pull his head out of his ass and focus on the game. knowing she was there with his name emblazoned on her back was motivation enough. he flew more smoothly, the trajectory of his batting more spot on, even cooperated better with the rest of his team—all he could think about was taking seol up into his arms and never letting her go. the closer they came to finishing this game, the faster he could be with her, which was really all he wanted right now. but a quidditch game barred that, and the only way to overcome it was to win. 

and so they did, taking victory in one fell swoop, bringing a close to the semi-finals. 

the crowd was in uproar, a deafening sound that reverberated deep into yonghwa’s bones. with his blood abuzz with the adrenaline of triumph, the team descends from the skies and is lead back to the locker room where their coach awaits, slapping each member on the back in congratulations. he could hardly recall what their coach says as he tears off his gear, chucking them into their holding place before he finds himself under the cold spray of water, washing away the sweat and grime that had built up over the course of the game. one by one his teammates leave until he’s the only one left. as he turns off the shower, he hears the muted guffaws of his peers, something he rolls his eyes at—they were probably going to celebrate, off to crash whatever house party ensued after the match.

with a towel hanging over his head and falling around his shoulders, yonghwa quickly pulls back on his clothing from earlier, racing against time to meet up with seol—only to hear her voice from beyond the double doors. he stifles a laugh, playing along with her; it’d give him time to calm down, to collect himself so he doesn’t become a fool when finally confronted by her. “don’t get ahead of yourself, han. i don’t put out.”

he finishes changing, wringing out the last of the water from his hair before tossing his towel into the bin beside the doors. he pushes past them, turning to face her before leaning against the doorway, cheeky grin spreading over his face. “i’m decent—” he gestures towards himself with a nod of his head before regarding her once again. it had been one thing to see her in the stands, but a whole other thing to see her in his jersey up close. it suited her. “—so what brings you to these neck of the woods?” 

he knows all too well what this entailed for them, but instead of doing the chasing, he thought it’d be a nice change to be chased after. yonghwa yearned for that little bit of validation her openly reciprocating his feelings would bring. but he knew her—knows all too well she would need to be coaxed into admitting anything. “were you waiting for me?” 

[mobiivs]

SANCTUM.

[archivedblog0725]

SORI

she doesn’t need his long, tragic backstory. she wants the reason he’s here, because she knows the narrative’s already cooked up a good one for him. was he always this mouthy? maybe the luxury of not trying to incapacitate her and likely, the attempt on his life, is making him a little more talkative than she’s seen him. then again, the fortnightly fights they get into aren’t usually conducive for talking. as it is, he’s just as restless and starts pacing, exposition flowing from him.

sori skips past most of it, literally, meta-figuratively, focuses only on the part that stands out. she can’t see it, but she knows it would. the literary turning point, when the anti-hero finds the one line they won’t cross; a crossroads despite the route already being predetermined. of course he makes the better choice. ( the other one, she doesn’t want to think about. she might have immunity against all the other side characters, but a muse? she’s not going to risk it. )

“fine.” the olive branch is sparse and fragile. she unfolds her arms and reaches out to the door knob, keeping her eyes on him. “i’ll bring you to director kwon.”

the narrative grants them a short walk; at least for her. white noise fuzzes out in the interim until they reach director kwon’s office, nothing said on the walk in between. giving him one last glance, sori reaches out and knocks on the door. she doesn’t enter – this part is his narrative, not hers. instead she sits outside the office, and waits for it to include her once more.

( unfortunately, she’s pretty sure it will, soon. )

the door to director kwon’s office opens, and she sighs and stands. into the narrative she goes.

he visibly relaxes once she finally acquiesces to his request. the boon she grants him is one he takes appreciatively, murmuring his thanks once his gait slows, having stopped walking in circles as sori exits her room, leading him towards the mastermind behind the world’s upcoming heroes. a few familiar faces milled about beyond her doorway, engaging with one another and relaxing in the safety of their home—that is, until they saw him trailing behind sori. the collective gaze of his former enemies bore holes into his back as he walks past them, and if looks could kill, soohyuk’s certain he would have been dead a hundred times over. 

they finally come at a stop before large, mahogany double doors, to where he assumes director kwon resided. with a glance sori’s way, soohyuk enters once given permission. pushing past the heavy doors, they shut ominously behind him with a heavy thud. silence ensues, and it’s only when the director asks him if he’d like water that soohyuk finally moves. he denies the offering, choosing instead to cut to the chase. he reiterates what he’s already told sori, inserting details he had left out earlier in his conversation with sori. 

“i think they plan on weaponizing my blood,” hyuk concludes his tale, wringing his hands together as he unveils his trump card, what he had hoped would allow him asylum here. “i’m not sure how, but...they’ve been doing blood tests up until i defected. i didn’t think anything of it, but now...i think it was an important piece of information to share. so that we—so that you could prepare for the future. you could run tests on me or something. do whatever you want, just please don’t turn me away. i’m not usually one to beg, but—”

the director raises his hand, cutting him off as he ponders upon soohyuk’s words, looking up at the man in question from his desk, as if he could see straight into his soul. it was unnerving, and he immediately breaks eye contact to stare at his shoes. after another moment of silence, director kwon dismisses him, telling him—as if it were just an afterthought—that sori would house him until they’ve made proper accommodations and notified all the students within the academy that it wasn’t open season on his ass. knowing when he’s being dismissed, soohyuk exits the office to find sori waiting outside. she peers up at him, sighing before standing to meet him halfway.

“would you like good news or bad news first?” he greets her, hands sliding into his pockets. “too slow. the good news: director kwon gave me the okay to stick around. the bad news? he specified that...you’d have to keep an eye on me until they’ve made proper accommodations and all the necessary paper pushing. so i guess that means we’re roommates for the time being. should be fun...” ( hopefully they didn’t kill each other in the mean time ) 

[mobiivs]

TERMINAL.

first day of school, as usual. the term starts with students portkeying in from the gate, chatter and games warming up the school halls. jiyi throws an arm around sunwoo and haesung each, just tall enough to ruffle both their heads and cackle when they protest at the same time.

the routine is surprisingly easy to settle in, second year in. what she missed for most of her fourth has healed over, not quite filled in but covered up nicely. they go to their classes, split ways at the great hall, meet up again during common room time that really, belongs more to them. she has her best friends, her housemates, even linkai who’s tenously neither and more than ( not that she’s admitting it yet ). fourth had been a mess of a year, angry heartbreak and self destruction but she’s found herself an equilibrium that no longer includes yoonju. it doesn’t ache, to be missing a hand to hold as they walk to class.

but fate and magic work in funny ways.

she sees her silhouette in the hallway, recognisable because that’s the one she’s only had eyes for for four years. a trick of her eyes, is what she thinks at first. maybe she’s not as over the other girl as she believes. but the silhouette turns around, and it is her.

seeing yoonju again isn’t all that earth shattering when time has passed, after all. she’d thought there’d be something more, heart fluttering, time slowing. instead all she gets are sweaty palms that yoonju used to complain about, and a slightly awkward smile. as far as first loves and first heartbreaks go, she thinks she’s handling hers pretty well.

yoonju’s spotted her too, eyes locking for a brief moment that feels too long after a year of radio silence. jiyi lifts a hand and waves at her.

[archivedblog0725]

the conservatory was all she had dreamed it to be: mirror inlaid walls, shiny lemon scented waxy floors, and double barres from one end of the room to the other. she lived in this very room, surrounded by like minded peers: dancers who dropped everything to be here, to chase after their stars. but with so much talent gathered in one room, the competition to be the best skyrocketed, reaching a fever pitch that had left irreversible consequences. the dream that yoonju chased after recklessly soon turned into her worse nightmare as she’s pushed down a staircase, limbs thrashing about as she stumbles from step to step, until she lays a heap at the foot of the stairwell. bloodied and broken. 

and her dreams of walking down a flower path end there. no amount of surgery or the best therapy money could buy would fix what was irrevocably broken. therapist after therapist all told her the same thing, that it was for the best that she put this all behind her, that there was more to life than just dancing. but they couldn’t fathom how much it meant to her. they never took into account the countless nights she spent practicing her pirouettes, or the weeks she suffered breaking in her pointes, or the sacrifices she made to get where she was.

they didn’t understand her—no one did ( except perhaps a select few )

with her dancing career ending before it could ever really start, her father whisks her away back to seoul, monitored and kept under lock and key as she reenters the school of her father’s choosing. yoonju had no need for an education, knowing all too well that it wasn’t necessary for her because as soon as she graduated she’d be slated to become someone’s trophy wife ( it was all formality, and running away to europe with a one way ticket in hand was her form of rebellion. but it had been all for naught ) 

inhwan already knew of her return, had spent every waking moment catering to her needs, coming at her every beck and call all throughout break until school resumed. there was just one other person who hadn’t been informed of her return—the person who had always mattered the most, until she became the person who yoonju would leave behind in search of her stars. her sweet girl, her lover, her jiyi. 

yoonju’s eyes drink her in, noting the subtle changes that one year could do to someone, and recognizing the things that had remained the same. her heart stutters when their eyes meet, and its as if nothing changed, as if the past year never happened, as if she never had left her in the first place. 

closing the distance between them, yoonju throws her arms around the much shorter girl, basking in her familiar scent and warmth, bringing to the forefront all the memories they created together—memories which kept her company late at night when she lied alone in bed, halfway across the world from her.

“jiyi,” yoonju murmurs, voice breathless as she pulls away, fingertips lightly tracing the outline of her sweet face. “i’ve missed you so much. i’m so happy to see you.”

[archivedblog0725]

A SOFTER WORLD ━━━━ I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say.  Come home. (You can’t start a fire without a spark.) / @jctlag

whenever he imagines home, his mind often drifts to thoughts of her, vignettes of a life they could have together flashing through his mind’s eye. the likelihood of these fleeting fancies where high—if they bothered to move faster than the snail’s pace they’ve settled into. but hanbin is all too content to let things be, to happy enjoying what they have now, rather than be hung up on what could be’s. what will be, will be; hanbin, if anything, was a patient man. 

it was one of those nights wherein they spent it with one another than with their friends—to the surprise of no one. together, they navigated a recipe they had dug up online, attempting to recreate foreign cuisine, though only to fail because neither of them were particularly talented at culinary pursuits. with cooking dinner together turning out to be a bust, hanbin was quick to pull out his extensive selection of take-out menus, picking one at random before placing an order whilst heeyeon cleaned up their mess. 

ending his call with the restaurant, he reenters the room, leaning against the doorway, watching heeyeon flit about his kitchen, as if she belonged here, lived here with him. elbows deep in soap suds, heeyeon begins singing softly under her breath, a tune he recognizes but cannot put a name to. she sways in time with the song, working peacefully, none the wiser that she had an audience. with a tender expression on his face, he closes the distance between them until his chest was flush against her back and his arms entwined themselves around her waist. he settles his chin atop her head, swaying with her as she worked, basking in domestic bliss. 

hanbin was more than happy to stay with her like this, but knew better than to. he knew heeyeon preferred it when he was of use. stepping away from her, he moves to stand beside her, accepting the wet dish, which he dries and polishes, putting it back onto the rack from whence it came.

“i ordered take out,” he says, making casual conversation as they worked together like a well-oiled machine. “i hope you like mongolian food. it was the menu i picked at random.”

[archivedblog0725]

A SOFTER WORLD ━━━━ In a dark, dark wood there was a dark, dark house and in that dark, dark house I think we should get drunk and fool around. (I want dirt under my fingernails.) / @jctlag

the lights of his dorm flicker in tandem with the thunderous boom that echoes outside, before ultimately extinguishing, bathing his room in darkness, save for the soft but muted light emanating from their phone screens—which they used to find each other in the dark. if he listens close enough, he can hear the quiet whimpers she muffles under her hands, can imagine the tears dewing her lashes as she tries her best not to cry. yonghwa knows all too well that thunderstorms and han seol mix just as well as oil and water—spoiler: they don’t. so he takes it upon himself to weather the storm with her, to the best of his ability. without a word, his fingers encircle her wrist, tugging her closer until their sides aligned, with no space left between them. he drapes his arm atop her trembling shoulders, his fingers gently squeezing her forearm reassuringly. 

“just focus on me, i’ve got you,” he murmurs, tipping his head to the side until it met hers. when her breathing slows, and her shivering subsides, yonghwa begins to hum a tune he’s recently heard on the radio under his breath, hoping to distract her enough that she’d forget wholly the storm that rattled his windows.

[midbluem-deactivated20210214]

idle towns.

pick a direction and go. @athaza

after four hours of driving and copious amounts of stops in between, the sight of the flickering motel sign is enough to bring iris close to tears. 

as bea pulls into the parking lot, almost completely void of other cars, iris stretches her arms up over her head as high as they’ll go with a moan that is both completely unnecessary and very much needed, reveling in the cracks her bones make. the pull on her muscles aches in the most satisfying of ways, and she longs to gain that feeling again in her legs as well.

outside, the air is crisp with the beginnings of fall. iris closes her eyes for a moment, lets the wind blow through her hair, and thinks briefly about what it is that makes someone truly alive.

(it can’t be love because if that were the case, she would’ve been dead weeks ago.)

when iris opens her eyes, bea is looking directly at her with something like pity and it stings just enough to stick. she grabs their bags from the back of the van and quickly head inside. she hangs back while bea checks them in, cataloging the stains all along the walls and peeling paint. this place has clearly seen better days. thankfully, it isn’t long before they’re given a room key and directed to a stairwell leading up to the second floor. their room is located at the very end of the hall and upon entering, she’s instantly hit with the smell of sweat and mildew.

how lovely.

it’s just one night, she reminds herself. one night. tomorrow, they’ll be gone on their way to the next town. maybe it’ll get better by then.

iris flops back onto the bed (the only one in the room) and tries not to let sleep take hold of her. “so,” she sighs deep from within, says, “is this everything you’d hoped it would be?”

[archivedblog0725]

she was way in over her head, but as long as she played it cool, no one—not even herself—would be none the wiser. her plan had been a stroke of insanity ( yes, insanity because no one in their right mind would go on a road trip on the drop of a hat ! ) one she had stayed up late into the wee hours of twilight plotting and mapping onto a road map, with highlighted routes, stickie notes for sightseeing, and everything in between. and it had seemed like her plan had come into fruition once she’d pleaded her case to her father, who had been all too willing to give her the keys to family’s trusty 1995 plymouth voyager. the vehicle had a number of memories under its belt: late night cruises with her pops, long car rides to vacation destinations, and moving into her dorm as a freshman in college. it was a rustic thing, with speckled paint and a little smog problem, but it was a sweet ride built on even sweeter memories. she had been all too proud to roll up into iris’s driveway in it. flourishing her hands at the interior which had been changed to accommodate their road trip across the states. with the middle seats taken out, a mattress was shoved inside to take its place, with enough space for a cooler full of food and drinks and their meager luggage in the trunk. 

they were set up for success—or so they had thought.

finding the motel, after hours of driving and flipping through the map she had prepared, was a relief. beatrice was all too happy to kill the engine, forehead pressed against the large steering wheel before she turns to look at her best friend, who looked worse for wear. her gaze must’ve triggered something in the other, because before she knew it, iris was out the passenger door, digging through the trunk and pulling their bags out and over her shoulder, halfway across the parking lot towards the dingy lodging when beatrice finally unbuckled her seatbelt. catching up with her friend after locking up, they quickly make their way towards their room, which was...a drab and dreary place that smelled as stale as an antique store. to make matters worse, there was only one bed, and a short settee pushed into the corner. just fucking peachy...

hopefully iris was keen on sharing.

far too tired to fight the odds stacked against her, she settles onto the other side of the bed, trying to get comfortable despite the rough, wooly duvet scratching against the skin of her neck and forearms. clearing her throat, beatrice turns to iris, who looked just about ready to melt into the mattress. “honestly?—” she starts, voice flying up a few octaves at the tail end of the word “—no, this wasn’t how i expected things to go at all—” she lets out a hysterical laugh then, which perhaps gives away how exhausted she really was “—i had everything planned out, yanno? down to the last detail. but so far, nothing has gone according to plan. which isn’t a bad thing, because i think things like this...aren’t really meant to? does that make sense?”

she rolls over onto her front, hair falling into her eyes, which she easily brushes away as she regards her best friend with an inquisitive glance. “what about you? how do you feel?—” it’s a loaded question, but one she has yet to ask her friend, who has been put through the wringer these past few days “—be honest. it’s just us.”

[fverdream]

nights like this.

[archivedblog0725]

A STRANGER

it’s a voice that hits a certain memory so clearly that there’s not a need to double check. there’s knowing that he should leave now before anything else, and staying because she’s a memory that he had been clinging onto dearly. he hadn’t ever been the wiser of the two of them, especially on matters that concerned her, and it seemed that she still had her hold over him, despite the months he had dedicated to leaving her in his past.

“you can put the gun away, detective,” he says, trying to steady his voice as much as possible as he stepped closer. it would be like her to involve herself in a case of such nature, if he knew her at all. the possibility that she could be feeling the same guilt as he was more than high enough, a concern that now applied to another, seemed ridiculous.

“they’d go right through me but you’d ruin my shirt,” he comments about her bullets, his sarcasm associated with her peaking through as he returned back to the body for any further clues he could find. while he very much knew how this would look in her eyes, there aren’t many words he can find to convince her of his innocence.

besides, what he had said about the bullets were true.

she instinctively takes a step back, the gravel crunching underneath her feet, the sound bouncing off brick and ricochetting throughout the neighborhood. it’s a noise that rang in her ears as her blood rushed noisily through her veins, deafening her as the edges of her vision blackened, focusing on the movements of the anomaly before her. the man’s words are soft and nonthreatening, but she knew better than to fall for pretenses—which was what usually killed people.  

more red flags go off in her mind as the man outs her occupation, which causes another flurry of thoughts to whirl around in her head. how did he know her? who exactly was he? was she perhaps the next target? another body to add to the long list of corpses being kept in mortuaries, another carcass in line for an autopsy. she knows she’s overthinking it all, knows all too well she’s about to lose her cool—so alice forces herself to relax. to unlock the muscles that had tensed earlier, to slacken her stance that was poised for a fight. she’ll wait for him to make the first move. 

“you know who i am,” she spoke slowly and without inflection, thinking that perhaps casual conversation will give headway to her off-duty investigative activities. if they prove to be non-lethal, maybe they could work together, she deliberates. “and from what i’ve gathered from out little chat, you’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve, too—” which puts her at a disadvantage. her own abilities could only work if she knew what she was working with “—who are you and what are you doing here?”

[joshuahong]

honey boy then (150705) and now (190628) 🍯💛

[fy-knk]

[neoptunes-deactivated20210620]

baby-pink-princess

[consilian-archive]

prologue: france.

[archivedblog0725]

DONGIL

chief park is one stubborn man. has been for years, really—dongil still recalls the first time they’ve met, when he was but an apprentice in st. petersburg. struggling with his language lessons in russian and english, constantly exhausted at the physical training he was put through and arguably never really more than a shell of what he used to be like during his school time. had any of his friends been given the opportunity to reunite with him then, they most likely wouldn’t have recognized the pale, bleary-eyed boy he turned out to be.

and yet, despite the fact that he is still very much considered to be a rookie by most of the elder aurors, dongil trusts he holds himself steadily enough—otherwise chief park wouldn’t even dream of entertaining his job position any longer. the man might be older than dongil’s own father, but he’s certainly no fool and that realization alone is enough to warrant respect.

“ah.” his features lighten up the moment he is directly addressed by the only female in the room, before courteously returning the handshake with a placid smile. despite being taught how to arrange his expressions into something that won’t betray his emotions to protect himself if there should ever be the need for it, dongil has made it a habit not to rely on such lessons when surrounded by familiar faces. it’d freak his parents out, anyhow.

and besides, hwang sohyun is by all accounts a face he’s more than happy to see. his former tutor always wore a smile at school and if his memory serves him right, she also had a much more gradual approach to magic than most of the other tutors he had. it made things easier on a starry-eyed eleven-year-old who hadn’t, up until then, even known something as baffling as magic actually existed. a large potion of his later success was owed to his diligence during that fateful first year.

“so you’re the curse-breaker that was enlisted to come to our aid.” he clears his throat before eyeing his supervisor with an unreadable look. being unprepared for crucial moments such as this one isn’t something new to him (the higher-ups are always slow when it comes to making decisions) but had he known, he might’ve cleaned up his office a little. his ears redden a little in boyish embarrassment.

“may i ask, how much were you told before coming here?” there’s a silent exchange of glances between dongil and his boss before they both turn to the curse-breaker in question with curious eyes and patient smiles.

“yes, i am,” sohyun confirms kindly, pulling her identification card to ease any worries or suspicions of her identity. it’s not the first, nor the last time someone has questioned her. she definitely did not suit the image many had of curse-breakers, especially considering most of her colleagues, as well as her mentor, looked to be bordering their hundreds. curse-breaking is a systematic process that requires lots of decoding and an extensive knowledge in newt subjects many abhorred—it was not an occupation for the impatient, and patience was something sohyun had in spades. “i’ll be in your care.”

“i briefly went over the case file that was put on my desk. a lot of details were obviously left out, but i gathered quite a bit from what was given to me.” with pleasantries aside, the group easily transitions to getting down to business. pulling the file she had resized to fit into her purse with magic, she casts a quick finite and pulls out the folder’s contents, passing along the packet of details to dongil, hoping to touch base and see if they were on the same page before summarizing what information she has gained from the documents proffered. “i’ve gotten the gist of things, but to put what i understood into words: the louvre has been compromised. some of the paintings and artifacts had been swapped with copies, and those copies have then been cursed. in the file, there’s a list of muggles who have been petrified by these accursed copies given by the french muggle ministry, who reached out to its magical counterpart in dire need of aid.”

she takes a breath from her longwinded explanation, looking around to room to be corrected by her associates on the case they’d be working on together. it was a case far different than what she was used to, and the prospect of it excited her and made her giddy—ready to get into the thick of it and solve the mystery. combatting magical beings and soothing the worries of pure-bloods coming into their inheritances riddled with dark magical artifacts was her area of expertise—but she was always up for a challenge, for a change of pace. if anything, it kept her on her toes, wand at the ready, perpetuating the need for vigilance for the world at large. there was always danger lurking around the corner, something sohyun needed to remind herself from time to time whenever she got too comfortable. 

“i can work on the case pro bono,” sohyun continues, tackling another elephant in the room that would have been dealt with later. “the louvre is an important part of history. putting a price to protecting history is something anyone would be proud to do for free. so when do we go on site so i can take a look at whatever’s been petrifying muggles left and right?”

[coffingrover]

[jctlag]

` ♡ — GIVE ME THE GREEN LIGHT.

[archivedblog0725]

SEOL

she doesn’t know what the hell his deal is.

one minute he’s telling her that he’s fine and she doesn’t need to worry, entertaining her mini-tantrums and coddling her in ways only a lover would. seol wants to let herself be optimistic and believe this isn’t as hopelessly one-sided as she thinks, because she never sees him this way with anyone else– she can almost let herself believe she’s special to him, the more he runs his fingers gently through her hair.

his fingers glide over the sore spot, and the change in his expression at her reaction is instantaneous. any traces of softness replaced immediately by a quick clench of his jaw to show the obvious displeasure he’s feeling toward her, and it’s like a bucket of cold water to wake her up from the dream she’d been in.

because the next he’s calling her annoying and telling her to go back, and she’s reminded of why exactly she only ever talks about schoolwork whenever cheol asks her what’s going on in her life. the person he is right now is the domineering kim yonghwa she’s constantly at odds with. she doesn’t sand her own edges down to make dealing with his any easier, and the friction between the both of their gears is almost palpable.

seol hates it.

hates how the playing field seems to be leveled to his advantage all the time, because even in this situation, there’s something frustratingly hot about the way he’s rounding out his words (that seol realises belatedly is satoori. fuck!) that have her needing to loosen her proverbial tie. she doesn’t though, because 1) she’s wearing a sweater over the dress shirt of her uniform, so there wasn’t a need for a tie, and 2) she’s far too mad to actually do that, and snatches her wrist from his grasp. “leave, then!” seol’s striding across the room, back to his desk to grab her wand. she seizes it, and pivots to cast an alohomora, blood still rushing in her ears.

he’s right behind her, and she starts at their sudden proximity, stepping back instinctively until the desk prevents her from putting any more distance between them. “what’re you doing? move.”

it’s aggravating, how easily she can misconstrue his intentions—how she can twist them and turn them into something they are not in that pretty little head of hers. it’s clear as day how she takes his words, processes them, and reaches a conclusion. he often enjoyed watching hundreds of emotions flicker over her face, but right now he loathes how he can easily read how she doubts him, how she mistakes his concern for disdain. especially when he’s made it so blatantly obvious that he’s interested in her. knowing full well that he can’t talk sense into her when she’s like this, he backs off, hands raised in surrender as he puts space between them. “i’m just concerned about you, han, since you apparently can’t think to worry about yourself, the responsibility has to fall on someone to do it for you.”

he’s a storm of irritation and concern as he speaks plaintively, arms crossed over his chest as he bores holes into the back of her head as she walks away, only to return and retrieve her wand. yonghwa snorts, knowing full well it’ll aggravate her further. they’re already on the path towards a full blown argument, there’s no point in turning back now. maybe once they’ve aired their grievances they can have an actual conversation, like the fully functioning people they’re supposed to be. but it all goes to shit when she’s cast the counter spell for the locking charm she had cast earlier. without thinking, he closes the distance between them in a single stride, blocking her against the desk before she could escape. 

“are you done acting like a kid, han?” he huffs, looming over her, hands splayed on the desk behind her as a means to get her to finally look at him in the eye and talk. “instead of just walking out of every argument, maybe you should stick around so we can actually figure shit out. because i’m getting really sick and tired of watching you leave. it’s like you keep expecting me to always come around, and someday, i might not even bother anymore—” his words are scathing, and perhaps harsher than they need to be, but seol has that uncanny ability to bring the best and the worst out of him. he’s not even talking about her inability to care for herself anymore, he’s breached the unknown territory in regards to their ambiguous relationship ( if one could even call it that ) “—make up your mind already. i know i have.”

yonghwa moves away from her, putting distance and desks between them before he does something he’ll regret later. he eyes her, jaw clenched, hands balled into fists until his knuckles were taut and white against bone. without so much as a warning, he pivots on his heel, leaving her there to stew in her thoughts. as he reaches the door, he throws in the towel, suddenly tired of this game of cat and mouse they’ve been playing. “you know where to find me. see you around, han.”

[archivedblog0725]

LOVE SCENARIO ━━━━ it was a commendable melodrama / @vivaldipxty​

it was just his luck to wake up late on the first day of school. his mother had warned him that staying up late playing games would someday come and bite him in the ass, and he supposes it was high time that cosmic karma finally took a chunk out of him. his mother had the foresight to prepare beforehand, and drove him to school, though under the pretense that it’d be the first and last time since the high school he was accepted at was out of her way to work. promises were exchanged as he exits his mother’s vehicle, and now yeonguk’s suppressing his hundredth yawn that morning as falls into step with the rest of the students walking towards the school’s entrance. 

using the map he had been provided during orientation, yeonguk follows the highlighted path marked for him towards his designated classroom—which he finds easily enough. with just enough time to spare, the teenager enters the threshold, immediately looking for an empty seat he could claim as his own until their homeroom teacher saw to it to seat them all alphabetically. and amongst the unfamiliar faces, yeonguk spies a familiar face, one he vaguely remembers seeing at orientation the weekend before. relief fills him as he cuts through the aisles, shouldering past his classmates while eyeing the vacant seat beside her. once he’s come upon her, he taps on the girl’s shoulder in an attempt to garner her attention. “hey ! it’s good to see a friendly face. not sure if you remember me, but i’m yoo yeonguk from orientation ! we got grouped together and stuff—” he gulps nervously, knowing full well he’s begun to ramble, so he cuts to the chase before he makes a fool of himself “—mind if i sit next to you ? at least until our homeroom teacher forces us into assigned seats ?”