feel good inc.

open hand or closed fist would be fine // blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine. moon jiahn, 25.

[eujiahn]

eujunseo​:

    an inexplicable spike in junseo’s anxiety is why he’s at dionysus housing, sulking on the sidelines of another lavish party — well, that’s part of the story. the longer story is that junseo’s become somewhat reliant on weed to fill in the gaps where his medication fails, and the guy he’s been buying from instructed him to meet up right here, right now, right in the throes of college students getting hammered. it’s already nerve-wracking enough to enter a party he was only indirectly invited to, let alone one he has no intention of staying at, but said guy swore he’d be right back and it’s been — junseo checks the time on his phone, probably his hundredth time doing so since arriving — ten minutes.

    he’s acutely aware of how stupid he looks, not even pretending to drink in a sea of people with red solo cups and wine glasses alike. no one’s made an effort to talk to him yet, probably due to the overwhelming edgelord aura junseo emanates at any given moment, and he’s perfectly fine with that. in fact, he’d prefer it, because he’s going to give this dude all of five minutes to come back before he decides to give up completely, leaving the party weedless and still having a brutally anxious pit in his stomach. fun.

    he doesn’t even notice the guy-who-definitely-isn’t-his-weed-dealer approaching him until it’s too late, and junseo gives him a startled look that’s eerily reminiscent of a deer in the headlights. he frowns at the cups, which have grapes in them for some reason, and then back at the stranger. he seems nice enough, but this really, really isn’t how junseo was anticipating his night to go, and now he wants to leave with a stronger urge than before. he just has to accept his weed dealer forgot about him, which, ouch.

      “no,” he responds curtly. for a child of hestia, he knows he’s kind of acting like a dick, but he’s banking on his bad mood warding off any well-meaning party-goers so he can go back to having a clear exit strategy. it doesn’t seem to deter this one though, so junseo makes an unimpressed, disgruntled face, his shoulders tense as he speaks again. “i don’t want to be poisoned.” not even a hint of a smile, though he’s definitely beginning to feel bad at shooting down this guy-who-definitely-isn’t-his-weed-dealer so rudely. he’s not the enemy here, though he certainly is a roadblock.

      “like, no offense, honestly… i’m just not really in the mood.” it’s the closest thing the other will get to an apology, for the time being. junseo has time to be mortified at himself later, when he’s safely tucked under the covers and far away from the ruckus of dionysus’ housing.

     no? no?? back up. to his credit, jiahn doesn’t flinch—doesn’t let a minuscule facial muscle slip save for the pointed arch of his brow and a quiet inhale. it isn’t often that he’s told no (not often that someone says no to a face like his—to wine like his, especially in the middle of a party like this). so the scandalized (however muted) reaction was justified. he thinks. was this little sunspot even worth keeping company? the quick, scorned answer is no. but jiahn knows better, at the very least, his pride as dion’s son makes it rather hard for him to back off.

     grouchy grouch? no problem. he’s seen enough depressive leave-me-alone-to-the-darkness-of-my-mind teenagers pass by here to know how to deal with him.

     “you hurt me,” he jests, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder. deceptively good at hiding his true feelings as always. “but very well.” he isn’t one to press regardless—cheapens the gesture. instead jiahn moves to twist his fingers over the glasses, humming idly while they revert back to its former fruit form. he wouldn’t waste good wine on ungrateful brats anyway.

     “but you know, for someone not very “in the mood”—you’ve somehow managed to land yourself in one of the busier houses of the night.” jiahn speaks absently, handing off the glasses to the nearest passing dion child before turning to the redhead once more. “which i assume means you’re waiting for someone.” he keeps his tone pleasant, long fingers twisting at his own wrist out of habit. whatever he could help him with (to get him out of here quicker), he wouldn’t mind anyway. “host duties” and all.

     “and so, you know, as the host and dion house ra—” cue sardonic hand gesture. “it wouldn’t be too hard to help find whoever it is...” jiahn casts a cursory glance around moving bodies before peering at the other out of the corner of his eye, lips curving impishly. knowing. there’s no point in hiding it—if the redhead’s made things so obvious to begin with. “just so you can get out of here quicker.” 

     his smile widens; more so a sneering fox than a charming demi-god. times like this, more like mom than he’d like to admit. “it would be my pleasure to, too.” jiahn extends a hand here, perhaps forcing the boy’s hand in pleasantries he hopes he’ll hate. “i’m jiahn, by the way.”

[kyulsoo]

minhyun x dispatch

[eujiahn]

euhyori​:

✱ THESE NIGHTS ｡    for @eujiahn​

long nights and late starts seem to grow more and more common in her life. she remembers being young and frequently up earlier than the sun, always there to push the cart along for dear grandma’s weekly runs to the market. yet, too many years in between have left those to be mere fleeting memories and lost habits, forsaken in the name of late night parties and sacred minutes of extra sleep.

she’s here again tonight, never one to be missing from a good party around these parts and everyone knows dionysus house holds the best. she spots him two drinks in and an hour later of entertaining but meaningless conversations with other students.  

“be a dear and refill my glass, won’t you?” she requests as hello, sugar sweet smile as she offers up her empty cup. 

at some point, you hit a lull. that is, when there’s enough alcohol course through your veins and you hit a certain point of intoxication—where your skin crawls and your fingers twitch, itching to do something a bit more stimulating. well, more stimulating than a conversation boasting the achievements of one’s parents. not that he didn’t respect the children of other gods, but what does that have to do with him really?

still, it’s his house. his party. and so jiahn carries conversation like a good host, the smile on his lips stiffly put—faltering only when he lifts his bottle for another swig. 

salvation comes in the form of sharp eyes and an otherwise demanding presence. in that eun hyori commands attention with enough allure to put an aphrodite offspring to shame. jiahn is no different from the rest of the herd, quick to excuse himself (more like jumped at the chance) from the conversation at hand to turn to his guest. 

“sure,” his hand lifts, fingertips brushing over the back of her hand, pressing into the thin glass gingerly. “and what’ll be your choice of the night, hyori?” he quips, as if he hadn’t already familiarized himself with her preferences. in drinks and otherwise. 

[eujiahn]

     life’s all about perfect pairings. chablis and oysters. champagne and caviar. chardonnay and lobster. mom and haute couture (say what you want about the woman, but she pulled off flair better than any human). dad and skipping out on child support (hah! this just in: being a god doesn’t save you from being an absolute deadbeat). moon jiahn and commitment issues (my god, wonder where he picked that up from?).

     but, more infamously than the questionable character of the moons+faulty god, the star combo stands to be dion house and unequivocally rad parties. dion house and their gold standard. dion house and the kids who know how to have a fucking good time. dion house, home of children who’d rather drown in absinthe than face their demons.

     yeah, that house. 

     tonight is no different. 

     jiahn heads the party. our (supposed) representative poster child of dion house. perks of age and an otherwise charming ability to disassociate with one’s issues. his usual job (given, that he’s not the one actually in charge of anything else beyond having a good time) revolves around making sure that drinks are bottomless and smiles are infinite. anything else (drug usage, rough housing, getting wild in numerous rooms, alcohol influenced injuries), that’s a responsibility for someone with more reliability. 

     so, definitely not him.

     but, in terms of trying to “cheer up” the less than willing, jiahn doesn’t much care for the task either. or, at the least, he couldn’t summon the will to. because why the fuck would someone’s enjoyment pertain him? because reputation, that’s why. the cocky timbre that answers in his head sounds suspiciously like dad, unyielding even as jiahn’s eyes land square on a skulking figure against the walls. what would it say about them—dion house—to have even one person hate their parties?

     disgrace, dishonor on the gods—yadadada. yeah, i know.

     in all honesty, jiahn doesn’t care. but he’s compelled all the same to approach the brooding sunspot. universally pleasant smile plastered on his face, it makes things easier that he’s already semi-tipsy to begin with, but placating a grouchy child was not on his itinerary for the night. still, convincingly, with the staggering acting chops of a dionsyus child, he greets him like someone who actually cares wants to be around his general bad vibe vicinity.

     “not having fun?” jiahn tilts his head. proposed statement being more an observation than a question. it helps that his smile is pretty, his face is (when smiling) is kind and his tone is friendly; even the (faux) twinkle in his eye is convincing. “here, let me get you something to drink,” he lifts the two iced glasses in his grasp, empty otherwise save for differing colored grapes sitting at the bottom. a neat party trick, if you will, when they unravel themselves and fill to the brim with wine. 

     one white, one red.

     “pick your poison—my preference though, would be the white.” 

—to @eujunseo (icbf to find gif icons plz...)

[eujiahn]

ayo yuv here! finally getting around to write this intro though im still kinda groggy (so pardonz if it’s bad)! haven’t gotten around to organize my pages yet but i’ll update once i do! tldr abt jiahn below and smash that like for plots!! thanks :D 

moon jiahn / 25 / dion baby 

(by proficiency)  alcokinesis — 9.5/10 (personal creations usually: sweet whites, floral, honeyed & medium bodied reds, velvet, oaked) chlorokinesis — 7/10 (nailed fruits, grapes, berries, etc—not so much anything else though) acting — 9/10 (all men do is lie) levitation — 5/10 (flimsy control, most so likely when he’s drunk!) madness — 3/10 (he hasn’t even conquered his own madness, everything here on is mostly just by accident or Whatever)

tldr;

richie rich (ish), mom’s a socialite who loves to party. pretty as fuck. and after dad pretty left her, she continued to marry her way up ($$$)

grew up dealing with her drunk escapades, so also grew up babysitting her when she drinks too much etc

basically polished his acting skills by covering up for his mom and playing the role of the perfect son himself for grandparents etc

in gen he abhors dealing with drunks (if he’s not drunk himself) and likely would leave people to dealing with their own problems.

though in general, idk, probably wouldn’t ask him to take care of you ever

doesn’t like to fight (too much effort when he could be vibing), in general he’s a pretty chill don’t-fuck-with-my-vibe guy

in between mom’s drunk babbles about how he resembles his father and how he’s different, jiahn pretty much pieced it together before he finally met the guy—and let me tell you, was highkey disappointed

take away the immortal soul and dashing looks, dion’s basically a deadbeat dad and jiahn is not too far off in terms of scumminess. there’s a distinct disconnect that passes from father to son, evident in the way jiahn’s able to pick up things (lovers, friends, family), hold them dear to his heart and throw them away without batting an eye once they’ve grown stale on him,. 

all this doesn’t change when he attends camp, parties his way through and leaves a small messy trail of broken heart fragments behind him.

i mean—other than that though—suuuper fun time! wanna be besties? just hit him up (don’t expect him to be here for any of the ‘heavy’ stuff though, he’s 100% flake)...Yeah