nightcrawler

bye baby blue, i wish you could see the wicked truth

[hanxjun]

teddyliuwho:

"Every. Night." He repeats, his tone and expression serious as sin. He can only maintain this solemnity for a split second before his mouth breaks into a goofy grin — a sight any Boobie Trap regular would find familiar. “Sorry for talking about dicks in front of your coworkers. That's probably super weird for you, being their boss and all. What's that thing big companies have? HR? It's probably not HR approved." There is no HR department at the Boobie Trap. Or, unsurprisingly, within the underground fighting ring. In either case, he's pretty sure he'd be unemployed if they did. Doubly so. He is, after all, standing here talking about dicks with a customer. However... "My name's Teddy," he says, reasoning that if they exchanged names, the Handsome Boss wouldn’t just be a customer, he’d be a friend. And talking about eating dicks with your friend isn’t weird. Well, not as weird. “Short for Theodore, although nobody's ever called me that. Or Theo. Or Ted. But maybe I'll give Ted a go when I'm, like, 40 or 50. It always sounded like an All-American, suburban dad name to me.” He extends his hand. It is big and slightly rough, his healing factor seemingly not deeming its many calluses a threat to his general health. After they shake, his eyes dart down to the man’s full glass and then back to his face. While Teddy wouldn’t describe the man’s expression as pained, it’s evident that he is, perhaps by nature, a tightly wound coil. There’s a subtle crease between his dark brows, small frown lines by the corner of each well-shaped lip, which were otherwise pressed together in a manner that, to the untrained eye, appeared neutral. The muscles beneath his nice shirt were taut at the shoulders. “You’ve barely touched your beer. Do you want something else? I could make you a cocktail. They’re not on the menu, but,” he shrugs and smiles.

“We’re friends now. So.”

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

"Okay." Minjun ended up saying, nodding quickly with his eyes wide. He most definitely looked (and acted) like a startled deer in that moment, staring up at the man and incapable of forming words. It was all a little overwhelming. The room felt hot, and so did the back of his neck. He laughed (tried to) anyways. "It's... definitely not, but..." his eyes strayed to the rag-tag bunch downing their refilled beers. "They say a lot of weirder stuff to me."

The amount of lewd jokes he was subjected to on a daily basis would have been enough to make a nun burst into flames. Not to mention the amount of times Minjun had to pull out the 'TMI' card on one of the guys was enough to fill several decks. But also, it made him incredibly jealous. Minjun did not have anyone to do TMI things with.

He sighed, and then promptly shook all of it off.

Minjun stared at the man for a long time, even cocking his head to the side. "You look like a Teddy," Minjun said eventually, shaking the proffered hand. Large, huggable, bear-like. The last bit was because there was something in the man's eyes that reminded him of Winnie the Pooh. But also, yeah, he was built to the point where Minjun feared for anyone who would ever possibly get into a fight with the guy. "I'm Minjun." He took out his business card from the pocket of his jacket, a customary habit, and handed it over. It was nondescript, all cream card stock and small black lettering. It was just his name, business email and his work number, but he was proud of it nonetheless.

At the mention of his beer, Minjun also found himself looking down. The glass, dripping with condensation, bubbles of froth slowly dying at the top, it should have looked appetizing, but Minjun had never been much of a drinker. The last drink he had had was with his father, the very last time he'd seen him, actually. They had shared a bottle of rice wine deep in the forests, bonding after years of separation. After that, he had never been able to drink, unwilling and unable to celebrate any moment without his parents.

He suddenly felt incredibly out of place. Well, even more than before. "I don't drink, actually," he said apologetically, head ducked. It felt almost rude, like he was offending the man for not drinking. "If I could actually get some water, that'd be really nice."

[hanxjun]

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

"It's your birthday," Minjun said, nudging Souk, "the only talk there'll be is about how great your party is." He couldn't help it, coddling the younger man by bringing him in for a tight, one-armed side hug. "And bemoaning of where to put all of your presents." He added with a loud laugh.

But Minjun's mind was still not over the smoothie, the aftertaste still lingering in his mouth. Strawberry, Souk had said, but it tasted nothing like it. It tasted... it had been so long, centuries even, but he swore he knew that taste. He couldn't be too sure. But Souk's face was blank, passive and confused even, at Minjun's reaction. It still felt odd. He stared at Souk staring at him, and tried not to act too strangely about it. But his body was reacting on its own, his insides felt warm—even after that halfhearted sip he felt different. Like something was being lit from within. Uncomfortably so. His stomach made a noise like a displeased dog, begging for more food. His chest felt tight, as if he were suffering from heartburn, but magnified by a hundred degrees. Whatever Souk had brought was something that shouldn't be consumed.

"No, no, I don't think you should drink it either." Minjun jumped up immediately, grabbing the young vampire's hand. "Do you feel weird? You drank a lot of it." Minjun panicked. Maybe, in some strange turn of events, the drink had been poisoned, instead of what Minjun had initially thought. There was no way Souk would deliberately bring something like that to Minjun. Minjun placed a hand on Souk's forehead, checking his temperature. "You have to tell me if something feels off to you."

[teddyliuwho]

hanxjun​:

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

Amidst the sudden whooping and hollering, as everyone reveled in getting their drinks, Minjun’s corner suddenly felt very silent.

“Um.”

Minjun swore that his eyes were bulging out of his head.

And his face felt hot.

Decidedly, he ignored both those facts, because no one seemed to have caught on to his reaction (for the love of everything that was good, please let it be true), so he ended up clearing his throat, intent on not choking and dying right then and there. Minjun could not have anyone else seeing him lose his mind, not when they all had to see each other again the next day, and every working day after that.

But the man was right. Wings were still wings, and the name of the establishment, if anything, meant that that particular hiccup should be more than acceptable. A selling point, even. He remembered that very momentary trend of… phallic-looking waffles floating around somewhere on the internet. None of this he mentioned. Again: he didn’t need anyone to stare at him weird and then let himself be seen at work. He would rather dig a hole in the dirt and live in it for the rest of his miserable, immortal life than to deal with that.

A laugh somehow escaped him all the same, but the sound was something more similar to a balloon suddenly releasing air. Suho turned to stare at him.

He was not playing it cool at all.

It got so much more worse.

“So you have to eat dicks… every night,” Minjun repeated, and in the same moment the words left his mouth, he was slapping both his hands over his face, his head falling onto the bar.

“No, wait—not like that.” His voice rang out, horrified that he said that. “That’s not what I meant. I am so sorry.”

"That's hilarious," he says, as if his unabashed laughter isn't proof of this enough. "Although, I do take issue with your use of have to," he asserts in a fake-serious tone, giving the other man a sincere, almost reproachful look.

“I don’t have to eat dicks every night. It’s a conscious and continuous choice. We’re all about consent around here. Right, Soojin?” 

“That’s right,” Soojin chimes in, bringing the young men their second round.

Teddy notices that the man he's speaking with stands out among his peers, though, at first, he's unsure why. They all appear to be relatively young, dressed in fancy business attire that had undoubtedly become loosened as the night progressed. But there is simply something about this man that sets him apart from the others, a certain distance he’s maintaining. And then it clicks. 

“You must be their boss,” he says this just to the other man, still leaning towards him over the counter. Not that it matters much that he’s being confidential; the other men had begun conversing with Soojin and a couple of regulars sitting at the opposite end of the bar. “What’s that like? I’ve never been the boss of anything. I’m barely even the boss of myself.”

[hanxjun]

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

Minjun, who was mostly shocked by the reception of his blunder of a joke, still wasn't all that together when opened his mouth again. "Sorry, my bad — so you just eat dicks. Every night," he corrected himself. Even to him, it was a bit funny, and he couldn't help but let out a small laugh (a snort, really). Suho had turned to give him another look from the corner of his eye, suspicious and concerned, as though Minjun had grown a second head. He might as well have.

Suho quietly gets up to crowd behind the other guys, all of whom quickly become engrossed in each other, cheering loudly and knocking back their drinks in quick succession.

Minjun turns to peek at them fondly, before turning back and staring down the front of the bartender's shirt. It's a surprise, seeming closer than it had been earlier, and in his own head, he tries to excuse it. His shirt was modestly covering any skin beyond his neck. So why was he staring at it so hard? Like he could burn a hole through the fabric anyways?

Get it together, Minjun thought begrudgingly to himself.

"More like the guy that tries to keep them out of trouble." The old fox waved his hand. It was an oversimplification at best, but in truth, Minjun didn't even know what the hell he was doing half of the time either. He was a part of the group of shadows lurking at the near-peak of the mountain, the same shadow that haunted doorways waiting for any excuse to hang out with the younger kids at HQ. At this point, Head Babysitter in Charge should have been his title, given how often he watched over the younger workers. So yeah, technically it was the truth, what he'd said. "It's good! I mean, stressful, but every day at work is... interesting, nonetheless." Working for the Guans was definitely that.

"I'd rather not be the boss of anyone, much less myself either, but —" YOU COULD BE? His inner voice shouts, and Minjun is so stunned by his own thoughts that his body physically recoils from the thought. "— someone's gotta do it?" He finished weakly.

[hanxjun]

omenportenti​:

Souk just watched the elder, waiting to see him drink his smoothie. No one could dare say he wasn’t caring and loving to his family. Look at him, adorable and thoughtful, he wasn’t at all the youngest. This was more mature. Sonu was certainly not looking out for their uncle.

He smiled a calm disarming smile at the question of the sogginess. Well yes, the hearts were already mixed up. “There’s whole pieces on top to make it cute and have chunks to chew. A nice burst of the sweetness. Drink it before even it goes mush”, he says then takes a healthy sip. That would certainly have given a brain freeze if his damn brain wasn’t constantly healing. He wondered what it felt like. “Uncle, is a brain freeze like a zap or numbing thud?” he wondered then looked at the remainder in the container.

There was a particular lump that looked far too flesh like to be strawberry, it poked out from under supposed fruity ice. He chuckled, and shook the container, burying the chunk of heart into its juices. 

“Anyway”, he began. “I’m going to have a small dinner for family for my birthday. I actually want to see everyone”, he says knowing that everyone would not include Sonu. “Everyone who gives a shit about me enough to come”, he scoffs. “Knowing Kang though, he probably knows how to park a planet so I’m sure getting to your gift will be easy as cake” His teeth flash, he’s so pleased with himself. “And as for cake it has to be Devil’s Food or a very nice strawberry”, he beamed, amused at his little joke. It would certainly not be fucking strawberry. 

 His eyes narrow at the elder, behind his perfect row of teeth he is yelling, UNCLE DRINK THE FUCKING SMOOOOTHIEEEEEEEEE! He blinks, calm. He is calm.

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

Minjun stared between Souk and the smoothie for a long while, eyes going soft. Yes, Souk could be a sly little devil, but above all else, he cared. Regardless of that hardened exterior, there was a charm to him. After all, he was still a baby.

He even had to hold himself back from pinching the young vampire's cheek as he smiled, because he knew Souk would hate the action and swat him away.

"Alright," Minjun snorted instead, grabbing for the smoothie, "no need to rush me." He still couldn't get over that light, lingering scent. It also looked unusual, though maybe special was a better word for it. The world was changing so fast around him—it would only be a given that food habits changed as well. Organic smoothies filled with protein powder and things similar to that were all the rage. Minjun had seen the pictures on advertisements and menu boards. They all looked odd one way or another. He twisted the straw around, twirling the contents inside out of habit.

"Don't worry about the gift so much." Minjun joked, poking at the younger. "But a dinner, you say? Where?" Almost absent-mindedly, Minjun lifted the straw to his lips, too deep in thought about the logistics of Souk's birthday dinner that he didn't process the taste.

...

He had gone through half of it before he realized.

"Souk," Minjun started gently, "there might be something wrong with this smoothie."

[hanxjun]

teddyliuwho​:

⋆୨୧˚૮ ＾ﻌ＾ა˚୨୧⋆

Soojin strolls by with the other beers, giving Teddy a passing glance that portrays her amusement. The young man who’s already finished his beer signals for another. Soojin takes his empty glass and returns to the tap to refill it. 

“That sounds nice,” Teddy says with a soft hum, “We don’t do company dinners here. Well, unless you consider being given the reject chicken wings and unfinished leftovers a company dinner. In which case, we’re having company dinners every night.”

His eyes drift over the handsome, bookish man’s shoulder, blurring as he summons a recent memory. And when it comes to him, his gaze snaps back to the man. “The chicken wings are usually rejected because they look like dicks. It happens much more than you think it would.” Teddy leans over the bar, drawing closer to the other man as if the two are discussing something confidential. “I know what you’re thinking: why would the Boobie Trap care if their chicken wings looked like dicks? I had the same question.”

“But, as Hajoon said —Hajoon's the owner— He said: Just because we have Boobie in our name doesn’t mean we’d stoop as low as serving chicken wing dicks.” His impression of the gruff, tatted-up proprietor is spot on, though only Soojin can appreciate it. Teddy gives a casual shrug. “But it all tastes the same, so I don’t see why it matters.”

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

Amidst the sudden whooping and hollering as everyone reveled in getting their drinks, Minjun's corner suddenly felt very silent.

"Um."

Minjun swore that his eyes were bulging out of his head.

And his face felt hot.

Decidedly, he ignored both those facts, because no one seemed to have caught on to his reaction (for the love of everything that was good, please let it be true), so he ended up clearing his throat, intent on not choking and dying right then and there. Minjun could not have anyone else seeing him lose his mind, not when they all had to see each other again the next day, and every working day after that.

But the man was right. Wings were still wings, and the name of the establishment, if anything, meant that that particular hiccup should be more than acceptable. A selling point, even. He remembered that very momentary trend of... phallic-looking waffles floating around somewhere on the internet. None of this he mentioned. Again: he didn't need anyone to stare at him weird and then let himself be seen at work. He would rather dig a hole in the dirt and live in it for the rest of his miserable, immortal life than to deal with that.

A laugh somehow escaped him all the same, but the sound was something more similar to a balloon suddenly releasing air. Suho turned to stare at him.

He was not playing it cool at all.

It got so much more worse.

"So you have to eat dicks... every night," Minjun repeated, and in the same moment the words left his mouth, he was slapping both his hands over his face, his head falling onto the bar.

"No, wait—not like that." His voice rang out, horrified that he said that. "That's not what I meant. I am so sorry."

[moonstoast]

—memories

the milk train doesn’t stop here anymore by tennessee williams // holly warburton // holly warburton // memory for forgetfulness by mahmoud darwish // before sunset (2004) // calling a wolf a wolf by kaveh akbar // teodor axentowicz // anne magill // the song of achilles by madeline miller

[dramastream]

CHA EUN WOO for VOGUE Korea, April 2023

[ur-daily-inspiration]

[teddyliuwho]

Total Eclipse of the Heart

When: Wednesday, 9:30 pm Where: The Boobie Trap

Eight years. A near decade in Seoul, a near decade working at the Boobie Trap. Due to his lack of a visa, his responsibilities were initially limited to those of a behind-the-scenes busboy. The owner wanted to keep him out of the proverbial spotlight as much as possible. But, as time passed, Teddy's contagious personality infected all of the employees and regulars, and he became an integral part of the restaurant's DNA. At this point, Teddy is as much of a reason to visit the Boobie Trap as the greasy bar food and cheap beer.

His role at BP has evolved significantly in the eight years he's been working there, and he now wears various hats: busboy, waiter, entertainment, host, and the occasional line cook when business is slow and no one cares if he over-sears the patties. His working hours are equally flexible. Only the owner and Songwoo know about Teddy's involvement in the underground boxing scene, which they all considered a necessary evil. This gig provided him and Songwoo with more support than the Boobie Trap ever could, despite the owner's best efforts to give him a raise. The fights were paying for Songwoo's education.

It's for this reason that Teddy would occasionally be absent on a random Thursday or Sunday night. He'll reappear the following evening as if nothing was amiss, his healing factor erasing all physical evidence of the fight. This is the case tonight. 

He'd won a fight the night before against a roided-out man only known as The Stallion. Given that all of his opponents are human, the fights are never difficult, but he has to take a significant amount of visible damage to ensure no one becomes suspicious (of him being a werewolf or fixing the fight). It's a lot of theater, which isn't to suggest that the blood and bruises aren't real; they very much are. They simply heal up before anyone can see them.

Teddy leans against the bar, idly running his tongue over his left incisor. The Stallion had knocked it out last night. It had grown back about two hours later, and it was a process that had always weirded him out. Where does this bit of extra bone come from? While he is mulling this over, a group of young men in business attire enters the Boobie Trap. They head straight to the bar, planting themselves on the stools that were not sticky for once because Teddy had just wiped them down.

Soojin is tending the bar. Teddy adores her. She's a no-nonsense, middle-aged woman with a cropped haircut and a full sleeve of tattoos, the most prominent of which is a heart containing the name of her partner of nineteen years: Eunmi.

The men order a few beers, and Teddy goes behind the bar to help Soojin serve. As she pours stout into a frosted glass, she leans in and whispers in Teddy's ear, "Check out these fellas in their penguin suits. Must be office workers at some highfalutin company downtown. It's weird that they'd come all the way out here for a drink."

"They're here to behold your magnificent beauty, obviously," Teddy says. He's teasing, but he's not lying. Teddy had a gift of seeing the beauty in everything.

"Oh, fuck off," she chaffs, handing him two beers, "And bring these to the penguins."

Teddy smiles brightly at her and then heads over to the men at the bar. Total Eclipse of the Heart booms from the nearby jukebox.

"Here ya guys go," he says, sliding the beers down the countertop. "The others are coming." And because Soojin's comment has him curious, he asks the man nearest him, a handsome but bookish sort. He reminds the wolf of Soongwoo, which immediately endears him to Teddy. "You guys just get off work?"

@hanxjun

[hanxjun]

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

The workplace culture of their country never ceased to amaze Minjun. At some point down the line, company dinners had become a pinnacle, and in theory, he loved the idea of forming close bonds with his peers and subordinates alike. Camaraderie and fellowship were things he ate up, as though that alone could fill his soul. But he also knew that, for most, it was the stuff to fuel nightmares.

He had watched on, from time to time, sitting in corners of hole-in-the-wall barbecue joints and noodle shops, watching groups of workers with tired faces bear the drunken egos of their bosses. The pleasantries, often given with grimaces, made even Minjun cringe. And so, for a while, he had given up on anything of the sort; while he loved the idea of treating his subordinates with a good meal after a hard day's work, he feared the mild hesitation, or the downright mortification that could arise from merely offering. It would have been a burden.

So, to think that the night had transpired in such a way, sparked some hope inside the old fox. When one of the younger members had walked up to him, nervously and yet eagerly rubbing at the back of his neck, asking about a company dinner, Minjun had lunged at the chance. And it had ended up with him and a rather good-sized group of guys with half-undone ties and rolled up sleeves roaming the streets after a dinner of pork belly and enough somaek to drown several small children wandering into the spot with the strange name.

"Boobie trap," Minjun had said with a strange look on his face. It wasn't a complaint, though it gave him some strange sense of excitement. No one would ever be able to tell that his joy then was compelled by anything other than that brothership that he craved. And while it was somewhat true, he also was silly enough to entertain the idea of entertainment (whatever that could mean). So he sat at the bar with the rest of them, not a choice he'd normally make but how could he not acquiesce, when everyone else was tipsily giddy?

The younger aforementioned man ("Baek Suho!" He had said, introducing himself, after Minjun had fumbled for his name) had taken the seat just next to him, leaning into his shoulder with a pink face and half-lidded eyes. And however mussed up he looked, his suit was perfectly intact—tie still done up tight against his collar and his sleeves perfectly pressed. "It looks nice," Minjun commented, brushing a stray mote of dust off Suho's shoulder.

"Thanks. My girlfriend bought it for me. Given it was my first week on the job." Suho preened at his suit, even as the beers were being set in front of them. And continued to do so as one of the staff memebers of the bar began to chat the rest of the group up.

Minjun looked up, and then had to take an immediate second look at the man serving them. His first and only reaction to the man was to stare at him with his mouth agape. It took him a long moment to compose himself, trying his best not to let his eyes wander, lest he get kicked out of the establishment, but thought that the bar's name was somewhat fitting flitted in the back of his mind. Shaking himself out of it, he passed a pint over to Suho, who knocked back half the thing on one go.

"Yes," Minjun agreed eventually, trying his best to make eye contact but feeling his gaze shift to stare literally anywhere else aside from the blinding light emitting from the man, "we came from a company dinner."

[hanxjun]

omenportenti​:

Sipping the concoction, he half sulks, a bratty thing, questioning the seriousness in that tone. He looks from the table to the elder, eyes keeping his act going. A cute lil baby, can’t get mad at a baby. His teeth had barely set.

Now that was a lie. But really, if it works, go with it.

“80′s”, he repeated then laughed. That was such a vague statement with no context to the century. That was what it was like with beings who didn’t question time, didn’t fear its passing. To the immortal, time was like the weather, like the seasons, just moving and of little consequence to anything. “I have these leather journals that would look very nice on top of it”, he says then sips the smoothie. He leans back in the couch then pokes the elder’s side. Playfully he chuckles and rolls to the other side.

“Smoothie”, he answers. “Tastes pretty good. I should have gotten a third. I think my cravings for sweet things are getting ridiculous. Ice cream, cake and smoothies”, another sip. It was half way gone. 

“Maybe I’m becoming more like you", he says then looks at the elder, noting his frame, then his face. “In some ways”, he concludes. “ I’m taller”, he says then grins before sucking on the straw loudly, slurping the red goo up in the straw. “Juicy fruit, fresh too. Uncle don’t make me drink yours too. Taste it before it gets all soggy. Strawberries aren’t good soggy”, he says, ready to open the lid and toss the contents into his mouth. 

Nope not yet. He isn’t that off his game to miss the smell. Souk looks into his eyes and wonders if he can tell what he’s up to. He wonders to what side of the apartment will he have to chase him to. Or, maybe he will get tossed. Nah. 

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

"You're going to get a stomachache if you only eat sweets," Minjun chastised, even though he made no move to do anything about the situation. It was no wonder why Minjun was wrapped around Souk's finger—the vampire was charming with his puppy-dog-eyes and pout. Minjun was fond of babies, and Souk was the epitome of that.

And he knew that Souk was smart, and that Minjun shouldn't coddle him, but how could he resist not giving him everything that he wanted? He would try and add that as long as it was within reason, but even then... Minjun would have to try very hard to not give Souk what he wanted. The joke about giving him a planet was just an example of that, and the only reason why it hadn't come into fruition was that there was simply no real reasonable way to purchase a planet. If he wanted to buy Venus, who the hell would he send the money to?

Minjun patted Souk's head, careful not to muss it up too badly as he concurred. Souk had grown well, which delighted the old fox immensely. Even the dig about his height washed right over him as he took the younger in. "Of course you are. I can barely see the top of your head now."

Minjun sighed. Even though they had the rest of forever, watching Souk grow up felt... strange. It had been within the blink of an eye to Minjun; one day Souk was a squirming bundle of joy and the next, a man ready to spill a smoothie all over his couch. "Do be careful—I just had cleaners come in," he sighed. "And why would the strawberries get soggy? Isn't it all already mixed up?"

[omenportenti]

Plasma Fields

November 24 Minjun's apartment

Information gathering for anyone involved in Den business was stupidly easy. Souk assumed it was the name, the relation to their queen and king, all of that bowing and shit, and yes, less her pride be ruined his relation to the mad thing running around as COO. COO with a penchant for poison, what forbes list was this?

EIther way, with a smile and proper posing, most answers were given to him. When was my sister coming back from her trip? When was the schedule for Uncle Minjun? At first they mentioned some stupid meeting and Souk had to poke his thigh not to roll his eyes. Whic part of him said he cared about his actual duties? Then the secretary looked up and down the hall, and his eyes narrowed. Was there some secret? There was. Even from Minjun's favourite nephew? How?

He leaned against the desk and smiled, a pretty, welcoming, disarming smile, not a fang in sight, a reminder that he was a wee thing, hardly grown, just a wee adorable thing with cherry lips.

A doctor's appointment, a check up.

He made a mental note to stop at Cartier and get her something nice as a thank you, a - I just saw it and thought of you.

A quick stop for smoothies and he was walking from the elevator to the apartment, entering the code and slipping from his trainers to the slippers. His Armani set with black shirt beneath, fit him lose enough to be comfortable but fitted enough to not be tragic. He carried both smoothies, cups decorated in strawberry stickers with cute pink straw sticking out the top. One was 1/4 gone, the other untouched.

He called out for the elder, setting the strawberry smoothie down on the table then considered snooping around. Nothing says innocent youngest other than snooping in whats not yours. "You know my birthday is coming up. Is my gift hidden somewhere? Or is it too big to fit inside? A planet?" he asked then laughed before plopping down on the couch. "Hyung this is a nice table", he began imagining how to get it out the apartment.

@hanxjun

[hanxjun]

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

Not one to shirk his duties, it was a rare occasion that Minjun did not step into the central building in the city, instead opting to stay at home to mull over the events of the doctor's appointment. It had burdened his mind enough that he had spend the entire night pacing, staring out the large windows and watching the city sleep and rise. He had even made coffee, knocking back cup after cup from the never-ending well that was his coffee maker. If Tim the Roomba was his life-long companion, then Susan the Coffee Maker was his savior. (He should stop personifying his appliances. Soon, he'd truly become the crazed hermit grandfather he always joked that he would become.) But sometime between the morning and early afternoon, he'd forgotten his coffee, opting to try and read through some files and get some work done since he hadn't been productive. By the time Souk had entered the apartment, Minjun had foregone his work, instead following Tim around on his daily route through the apartment and his coffee had gone cold.

He wasn't even surprised that Souk had appeared like a ghost in his apartment, the younger had a penchant for springing up out of nowhere on occassion, and Minjun had long gotten used to the fact. "What a surprise to see you here," Minjun greeted anyways, still stubbornly drinking from his glass even as his nose crinkled at the tepid taste. "How'd you guess? It's waiting for you just outside," he said as he cocked his head toward the window, "well, outside in the next galaxy of course. But that's why I also bought the spaceship." Even for a joke, Minjun's tone was serious, though his lopsided smile gave him away. Minjun knew that Souk would try and search his entire apartment to find his birthday gifts, which was why he had them hidden away in a storage container outside the city under a pseudonym.

Now, he followed Souk, ruffling the younger's hair sitting on the armrest of the couch and turning his attention to the table in question. "It is. I bought it some time ago in England... sometime in the early 80s...?" 1980 or 1780, he couldn't remember exactly, only remembering that he'd haggled like hell for it with an older woman who had thwacked him upside the head and then promptly fed him so many biscuits and tea that he nearly keeled over before finalizing the deal.

"What did you bring with you anyways? It smells..." he trailed off, face scrunching up as he tried to pin down the scent. "Interesting...?"

[hanxjun]

danikavasile​:

"I suppose donators could be screened for impropriety,” Danika speculates, “but I’m not sure how reliable that would be. No matter. I have some contacts in Sweden who are pioneers in the arena of end-of-life care. We can initiate the conversation and go from there.” She scribbles this on the notepad as a reminder to make that phone call. She believes her Swedish connections will be overjoyed at the news. It’s a one-of-a-kind circumstance. Danika has the impression that there aren’t a lot of gumiho on the planet. Minjun is the first of his kind that she’s met, and she’s been around for a long time.

His change in expression relieves her, as she was worried he’d begin mopping again and she had already reached her quota for mopey men for the day. “Wonderful. We can do some tests at my lab. I work primarily out of Gyeonggi, but I don’t mind coming to the Seoul location if that is more convenient for you.” 

She rips the note from the pad and sticks it to her clipboard. It contains a brief scrawl of their tentative game plan, a last-ditch attempt to rejuvenate the disappearing fox. At that, Danika drags her gaze up and down Minjun’s frame. “Mr. Han, I reiterate, you are looking a little worse for wear. I only say this because I’m sure those in the office will soon notice. It might be a good idea to devise a strategy for dealing with that.“ She has no idea why she is offering him this advice. What he did outside of her care was none of her business, but she was aware of the emotional strain this was going to place on Soa. The longer he drags this out, keeping it hidden from his loved ones, the more difficult it will be. “People will also begin to question why we are working together, so please inform me what you would like me to tell them when that time comes. It doesn’t have to be now, but consider it for our next meeting.” 

From the depths of her lab coat pocket, she retrieves her cellphone. She had Minjun’s contact information, just as she had the contacts of everyone at Guan Corp, but they had never had a reason to privately engage before this. She sends him an email outlining potential meeting times. She stows the phone back in her pocket.

"I believe we’re nearing the end of this appointment. I must admit that it was far more interesting than my usual check-ups,” Danika says, “Now, unless you have any further questions, you are free to go. I’ll collect your blood sample at our next meeting. It will be far more useful to us then.”

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

Biting his lip, instead of answering, he ended up casting his glance to the side with a small nod. It was a lot to process all at once, the fact that maybe there would be a way out of this vicious cycle, and somewhat (?) ethically. The world had changed in the centuries he'd walked its ground, and while he had been aware of it, he couldn't believe that they were now in a place to have such options. It was a weight in his chest, but whether good or bad, he couldn't tell quite yet. Even his quavering ideals and the civil war being waged between all of his emotions were no match for this place. He would probably (most definitely) go home and worry the subject in his mind all night.

It would take a long time to get over everything that was happening. Old habits died hard, it was a cliché for a reason. But maybe this search for a "cure" or whatever this could be called would help him reach a solid conclusion on his stance on the whole thing. This was day one, and he imagined what would have happened if he had stepped into this office sooner than he had. Maybe they would have already found a solution, but a Minjun even a few years prior would have broken down so quickly in front of Danika. He would have walked out of that office with less of a fight and a disappointed doctor staring holes into his back. But he had realized sometime between then and now that he had some place in the world standing next to Roga's side, next to the Guans. Roga's absence had reminded him just how much he needed the Guans, and maybe just how much they needed him.

"Anywhere works for me. I don't mind travelling either." He gaze drifted to a window in the room. "Maybe getting out of the city more often would be nice."

Minjun immediately turned back to Danika, eyes wide. In his moment of surprise, he had all but forgotten. What to tell the others? Though they were still very busy both within the sphere of the company but also within their own personal endeavours, people would question why he, who had avoided the medical plaza like it itself were the plague, was suddenly the doctor's shadow. Up until then his excuse was that he was never injured enough or that he was too old to need a check-up. It was a shoddy excuse at best, but they must have chalked it up to him just being old and hating getting check-ups. Lots of people didn't like doctor's appointments, what's to say that he didn't either? "I'll... definitely have to think about that," he hummed, squeezing at his own hands.

"I, um," he paused, standing up as soon as she had hinted at the fact. "I don't have any questions right now." His brain had shut down from the sheer load of information and emotional unhashing he had done over the course of the visit. It had probably been less than an hour, but it had felt long enough that maybe he had grown an extra tail. "But I might have some when we next see each other." The doctor had picked up her phone, eariler, which had reminded Minjun that he'd left his at home again. He never checked it, and anyone that needed him would drag him away personally or not at all. A habit that he had been trying to fix, but again: old habits.

"But I did want to thank you. For everything. And I apologize again for being vague and causing a ruckus... I know that you operate with a more... direct approach. And I'm sure you weren't prepared to give me such a talking to." He let out a soft, nervous, huffing sort of laugh.

[hanxjun]

danikavasile​:

"Okay,” Danika says, taking a step back. She drops her radiating intensity. She’d only donned it to get an answer from the evasive man, and she’d obtained it, although it’s not precisely what she was hoping to hear. Not because of the decision he made, but because he remained reticent about possible solutions. But it’s something she can work with. “And I believe you. I can finally hear the conviction in your voice.”

Dragging open a drawer, she retrieves a pad of paper and a pen. “Now we can talk about what can be done.” This was a much more pleasurable spot for Danika to be in. She loved a good problem to sink her teeth into, the more challenging the better. These were the kinds of things that enriched her eternal life. If Minjun’s sad puppy (or sad fox, as the case may be) routine had continued for a minute longer, she might have bit his head off. She despises the victim mentality, particularly when it comes from a man.

“What are your thoughts on a donated soul?” She inquires, scrawling on the pad. “That is to say, someone who offers their soul willingly for your consumption. Does illness have an effect on taste? This could be an interesting option for patients with terminal illnesses as well. Many people are changing their minds about end-of-life care, and some believe that electing to die via euthanasia or another manner of assisted dying is a form of reclaiming their agency.”

"There’s also the option of looking for a soul alternate, perhaps on top of suitable supplements. I’d have to do more research on the subject. The soul is such an enigmatic substance and science has yet to unravel its mysteries. Or, in the case of human science, even prove that it exists. Perhaps you can assist me in this matter. Given that you have previously consumed souls, you must recall some of their characteristics.”

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

Still utterly terrified, his damp palms were clasped together back in his lap, fingers tapping off rhythms to the beat of his shaking heartbeat. Her eyes were softer now, but they were still hard, and he found himself still unable to look her in the eyes. Even as she sat across from him, he shifted in his seat. "Well first of all, are—Are there...?" Minjun trailed off, cocking his head as his face screwed up in confusion. "Donated souls...?" The odds of there being such a system seemed implausible. "I mean... if they knew exactly what they were getting into, I think it would be okay but would they... be okay? With that?" It was something to think about; he wasn't sure how to feel about that aside from the general confusion.

"Illnesses or anything physical don't have an affect on the taste, I don't think—but I've tasted some bad souls. It wasn't horrible, by any means, but unpleasant." It lingered, like off-meat or unripe fruit, but he had never been one to be choosy in such a situation. "That's really... something to think about." It was upsetting, mostly, and definitely something he'd think about in his room in the dark hours. But voicing such things probably wouldn't fare well in terms of his standing with the doctor.

He liked the second option much more, and it showed in the way he perked up, eyes shining. If his tails were out they would be swishing in momentary delight. Maybe he could be useful to her. "It's been a while, but it's kind of difficult to forget. I can try my best to help you, even though I don't know much about science."

[happyheidi]

x

[hanxjun]

danikavasile​:

"You are a gumiho. You must feed on souls. That is an essential part of your existence. A non-negotiable,” she states flatly. “You come here, speaking in vague terms about your symptoms, seeking assistance in dealing with the consequences of your own actions, which, might I add,” her brow darkens, “you are not even man enough to admit." 

“I assure you that your rectitude is not lost on me, Mr. Han.” Her heels tap against the tile as she closes the gap between them. “While I may not share your perspective on death, I can respect your commitment to your personal ethics; what I cannot respect is your utter lack of conviction. I know that you’re not inept, and that you understand there is no real cure outside of consuming souls, which you seem determined not to do. Perfectly fine. But do not play the victim. Not in my office.”

"You and I have been on this planet far too long to despair over its unfairness. At this age, you must realize that there are only two options: get over it or make it fair. If you want to survive, you must feed on souls or find a suitable replacement. However, as far as I can tell, you appear perfectly content to waste away in voluntary solitude and misery, as if it were some noble act of self-sacrifice. There is no such thing. From the moment we are born, we take. We take because that is what it means to be alive. You cannot live a life free of consequence or harm. Do you believe that your inevitable demise will not harm your loved ones? Is this yet another sacrifice you’re willing to make?” 

“I’m not trying to persuade you in either direction. If you truly believe that you have no right to take someone’s life, that is your prerogative. And we both know that unless you find alternate nourishment, you will die. Is this what you’re seeking? An end to the guilt and pain of existence? If that’s the case, I’d prefer you tell me now so we can devise an adequate plan to manage your suffering as much as possible before you pass. Or would you like to live? And I don’t mean like this,” she gestures towards him with a hand, “this is pathetic. This is not living.” She bends over slightly so that their gazes would be level. Her face is mere inches from his. 

“Make your choice, Mr. Han. Make your choice and own it.”

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

In all his years, he had never been spoken to in the way he was currently, again, he felt like a child being scolded, except everything she said was true. His face was red with embarrassment, because he could feel that in her eyes, he was just that. A child, whining about the circumstances while unwilling to negotiate a way out of it. The realization hit him quickly, but it hit him hard. He had no conviction. He lived in a grey state, unwilling to live yet unwilling to die, and with no means to an end either way, left with no choice but to suffer the consequences. And when the consequences lived in him everyday, manifesting in pain, he decided to leave it be.

He was dooming himself, and as she said, he was dooming all those that he loved by continuing to live selfishly. That weak spot in the fortress would be found one day, and be used as leverage, or a means of barging in and ruining everything that had been built. Everyone would suffer with him. It made his shaky resolve crumble, fall around him in pieces, and whatever bravado, that false mask of surety that he thought made him brave had truly been nothing, it seemed. It was a fact, and while he was staring it straight in the eyes, it still did not fully register in him.

A thousand years of life, not having been lived in so long, had made him a husk, he realized. Old habits died hard, and it would be a lonely death either way. If he continued on like this, he would be no better than a lonely fox, left for death in the woods, scent of ash and fire choking him.

Again, it was that ultimatum, still waiting, though not patiently. There was no time left to think, he feared. This moment would be a catalyst either way. Anxiety had sweat forming on his brow, and he peered helplessly into the icy sharp blue of her eyes, and was reminded of that memory of the last soul he had taken. Live or die. A decision he had been putting off for so long, and now it felt as though he only had seconds left to choose.

A world without him would still turn, and he had been around for long enough, but not long enough—he still had his get-togethers with Soa laid out in his calendar. Souk needed someone to be there and brave his anger. He was waiting for Roga to awaken so that he could greet his friend again. Sometimes, the best decisions were made under duress, a choice that one had known was always right would be made under pressure.

"I want to live." Minjun proclaimed, voice panicked. He was not ready to die yet, as much as he had thought that he was. "I still don't know what to do about the souls, but—I want to live."

[hanxjun]

danikavasile​:

⋆♱✮♱⋆

"It is impossible,” she repeats. And that’s all there is to it. Danika isn’t a stickler for the rules (how could she be? She actively breaks Korean law whenever it suites her), but when it comes to her job, she is unyielding. Especially in this case, where she believes he is being unreasonable. He has to realize that he is far more than a regular Guan group employee. He is Roga’s best friend, his closest confidant outside of his own blood. While the goal of these check-ups is to ensure that employees are healthy enough to perform their duties, it isn’t so simple for Minjun. While Danika is bound by patient-client confidentiality, she couldn’t help but think that by keeping this information private, he is punishing more than himself.

She is becoming increasingly irritated by his evasion of the truth. His refusal to be up-front about what is wrong with him is especially frustrating, but she retains a placid expression. She despises self-pity in general but finds it especially distasteful on an elder like Minjun. They are both far too old for this despairing attempt at sainthood; martyrdom is for the young. 

Danika may be too hardened, too clinical; she knows this. But she’s always considered her existence to be both a blessing and a curse, but no more than any other being. The benefits and drawbacks of vampirehood had to be balanced, and accepting these benefits necessitated recognizing and learning to live with the limitations. And if she is ever unable to deal with these disadvantages (whether physically or mentally), it would almost certainly spell the end of her existence. There are hard decisions to be made in such dire circumstances. While Minjun may believe he has made his decision, Danika could not agree. He is simply putting off the inevitable. 

“It is only hopeless if you allow it to be,” she says. “Your pain management options range from deep breathing exercises to the use of biofeedback. We may also discuss the boundaries of your ethics and where exceptions may be permitted. Would you object to eating, say, a serial killer? Is your aversion to consuming higher life forms a hard and fast rule?" 

After a brief moment, she reaches over and switches off the computer monitor. She rises from the stool, gazing at him with meaningful intensity. "Mr. Han, may I speak with you candidly for a minute?”

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

"I figured as much." He sighed.

One day, he would have to face the truth of it all. He couldn't keep hiding it from himself and from everyone else. He was a gaping weak spot in the fortress that was the Guan family empire. He was not looking at things objectively, merely living in his own selfish delusions, he knew that. In their mind, he was keeping the Guans safe, better he be at their side than someone else was how he thought of it.

There was a shift in the air. And there was an ultimatum, hanging on a thread right in his face, like a pendulum swinging back and forth, held between the fingers of the elusive doctor. He had expected her to let him down easy, and she had, but he still hadn't been able to handle it.

"I—" Her asking had him lost in another bout of memory; when he was young, just after his village had burned and he had gone about gallivanting as some Robin Hood-type of vigilante, hopping from village to village. Naive, young, full of rage. He only had that one tail back then, the pain of another growing just beginning at that time. He remembered briefly the face of a corrupted lord, who had pilfered the meager earnings of the village people and withheld provisions for compensation.

(His soul had tasted exceptionally bitter, and he had been messy and cruel in his theft of the man's energy, watching the light in the man's eyes fade while his bead glowed blue. He had held it in his hand for a while, twisting and turning the thing every which way, watching the way the light reflected off that energy like waves in the early morning. "Pretty," he had mumbled to himself. But the taste in his mouth had turned sweet, and he had turned, meeting the eyes of the man's wife, pushing open the door to his chamber. She had been ill, he had seen the gauntness in her cheeks and the way she hobbled over to the man, until she was crawling to him. Did any one life mean more than another? He had wondered suddenly, having snuck out of the low window and watching her through the partition. He had always felt guilty for eating, first from watching his mother struggle, portioning out the hunts she would go on so as to not draw suspicion, and then having lived in a world of dog eat dog, everyone fighting to live, just as he.)

"I tried something similar when I was younger, but I had thought that it was not fair, that one person died while I continued to live." He mumbled, so quiet it could almost have been for himself.

He looked up, startled at the intensity in the doctor's eyes. The doctor had managed to strike fear into him so easily, and he shifted in his seat. "Sorry, of course." 

[hanxjun]

danikavasile​:

Danika observes him for a moment in silence. In the privacy of her mind, her professionalism slips and she allows herself to see him for what he truly is: a tired, old man. An ancient soul. Not much different than herself in many ways. It didn’t matter that they were immortal beings or that they did not physically age; time takes its toll in other ways. 

"Only medical professionals,” she says, “though I won’t lie and say those at the highest levels of Guan corporate couldn’t find a way to gain access if they really wanted to. As you’re probably aware, the Guan siblings are rarely told no.”

The fear in his eyes holds her attention, and her own senses go into primal alert. Pupils dilating, ears pricked to pick up on the smallest of sounds. It was the kind of organic, animal fear that struck the deepest pits of her being, told her that something was coming and they needed to brace themselves for impact. She swallows it down as best she can. “Hypothetically, it’d be easier for me to answer that if you tell me your symptoms. Hypothetical symptoms,” she corrects herself. She usually didn’t care for these types of games, especially when she was working, but this was the one time she was willing to play.

“I do not wish to raise your hopes, Mr Han,” she continues. “Fix… is not a word I like to use when discussing what is clearly a chronic issue. We can try to mitigate symptoms. Manage pain. If we’re talking about what I believe we are, I am not sure there is an ‘ethical’ cure. I am sure that is not what you want to hear. I’m sorry.”

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

The doctor was right: it was a matter of if, not when, when it came to the Guans. It should have been obvious, given the fact that even Minjun had a hard time telling them no. But he gnawed at his bottom lip, worrying it until it threatened to bleed. "Is there any way to... omit them from finding that bit of information?" Medical malpractice, maybe. Minjun felt horrible for asking as soon as the question left his mouth, and he shook his head. "I apologize... And besides, it'd be impossible. Nevermind."

And then the main cause of his concern was brought up. "No ethical cures". He knew she was trying to be gentle when dropping that bomb on him, but it felt just like that. It landed square in the chest and rested heavily in his bones. He knew that that would be the case, but hearing it aloud was... any sort of hope he'd strived for upon meeting the doctor dissipated. He felt disappointed. Not at the doctor, but just... disappointed. "That's what I expected." No emotion leaked from his voice, but it was still quiet. Minjun felt like a child, pouting when they couldn't get what they wanted. It was ridiculous. It still hurt him regardless.

Waving a hand, he scrunched his nose, trying his best to be unaffected. He wanted to go home. Lay down and watch Tim meander around his house. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, thinking about it made his head hurt. Everything ached. It was his own fault. "Right." Hypotheticals... he could work under the delusion of a "maybe" or a "what if". It would make him more honest. Depersonalize, rationalize, stare into the face of death and give it a name. Was that what he was doing? He shook his head. Where would he start on his made-up list? If he had to really think about it, it would look something like:

1.) The headaches. It had been a long time having to live with those. Not the worst thing to deal with but constant. 2.) Lack of energy. His legs felt like logs and his knees constantly felt like they were about to give out. He could barely sleep, but still... that shouldn't affect him the way it did. 3.) His throat. It was a strange, indescribable feeling. Not burning and not aching, but feeling empty. Sort of in the same vein as rattling around the glass bead in an empty bottle of Ramune. If it also felt like choking on something that went down the wrong pipe.

And then the other things. The constant feeling of cold, the fainting. Those things, the latter of which he hesitated to add to his list. But they were still discussing in hypotheticals. He did not want anyone thinking a soft wind would knock him over—that was the last thing he needed.

But in the end, it would be all for naught anyways. As she said, there was no good, clean way of fixing what was going on. "It's all a bit hopeless, isn't it?" Minjun snorted. "But I've lasted this long. So, I guess now, with your direction, I could find a way to mitigate the symptoms?" He would not even begin to think of entertaining a route in which he took the easy way out.