communicado.

...to touch your thoughts is even better --- Mikhail Go ; 17 ; Hufflepuff ; 7th year ; Muggleborn

[huffmikhail-blog]

98% nice

[huffmikhail-blog]

huffzy:

huffmikhail:

—

“you honestly have no preference? we have a few days together – might as well make the best of it.”

everything seems quite surreal to her. his suggestions, unreasonable, seem to lose any kind of consequential value to her. the freedom of money feels like a daze above all else.

“you’ll fly me to south america for a cup of coffee?” she teases, a sharp exhale and a pointed look his way. “ambitious. i’ve never been there.” not out of inability or disinterest; her parents had traveled on their own whilst she was away. a clear disconnect.

she pauses, shifts her gaze back to the traffic. standstill taillights, stores filled during times of clearances, and the ever-present threat of rain looms in the air. she likes london.

“you know, i wouldn’t have minded staying. i think we could have.. a nice time anywhere? but since you’re offering,” the tone is dry, unapologetically tongue-in-cheek lamenting. such harsh circumstances. “let’s go with your first suggestion, okay?”

mikhail is intense, she’ll give him that. from despising her to technically dragging her out. what a man.

“somewhere warm.”

that she has to confirm it with a question makes him raise an eyebrow. is she doubting it? of course he isn’t going to spare any expense if it’s for a good cup of coffee. granted, going to south america might be pushing the limits of the already-overpriced five-dollar small espressos he’s tasted in his time, but if anything, it should be worth it, and if it isn’t, then his pride will prevent him from admitting it.

“wrong,” he tells her as they turn off the road to a less traffic-congested road, “that’s a boring concept, suzy. we’re going somewhere new because it’s fun. exciting. not just nice.”

he lets the, have a little bit of adventurous class, will you? go unsaid. it should be clear enough. this is privilege at its finest ( or worst, depending on the perspective ), and his phone grabs his attention again, this time already making arrangements.

“bahamas, then. paradise island seems like a lot of fun. maybe a few tourists, you know, but i’m sure we’ll be able to get a good room somewhere...”

[huffolivia-deactivated20170316]

quiet.

[huffolivia-deactivated20170316]

[ huffmikhail ]

she follows the figure of the librarian out of the corner of her eye, watches the woman disappear in and out of the stacks, doing god knows what - looking out for trouble like this? olivia only barely restrains the snort. the woman must be expecting this kind of thing from everyone except her. ass kissing is an art that olivia has all but mastered, and it’s good for moments like this when she’d rather not have someone watching.

she’s brought sharply back to the boy in front of her when she feels a touch to her knee, nearly jumping in her seat at the suddenness of it.

olivia glances at him, eyes narrowed and shoulders tense. she shifts in her seat, edging forward just slightly. odd, how she’s always so willing to tease but so impatient when it happens to herself. entitlement, if you will, but olivia calls it efficiency because, of course, it benefits her.

clearing her throat, she grips her pen tighter, bending over her book to give the illusion of a student hard at work.

in actuality, she’s rubbing her foot against his ankle, only just grazing it. olivia’s only half as good when she’s playing against an equal, though her pride will never let her admit it.

[huffmikhail-blog]

mikhail doesn’t think he’s a very memorable face in the library to begin with. he’s not here as often as one might expect him to be, but he hasn’t been absent the whole seven years he’s been here, either. so madame pince doesn’t pay much attention to him, which is a good thing. he’d be in horrible trouble, what with the indecent -- oh, utterly scandalous! -- but who would look twice in their direction? he’s generous enough: give people what they want, and they look wherever he tells them to.

olivia, he figured, works on the same, desire-centred mechanism. the impatient movement towards him, impeded by the table, confirms it. there’s some explanation for the behaviour, maybe, and if mikhail’s more well-read then perhaps he’ll be able to put a name to it.

but desire is a powerful thing, for whatever it may be for, and even if it’s for something to fill in the time -- to curb the boredom presented by open books. so his foot moves along one thigh, unwilling to be generous now; some things are better when denied, at first. then, when he reaches an even more indecent point between them, he lowers his foot, and puts his shoe back on.

he smiles at her, sweet as honey, and closes the book, and makes to stand up, raising an eyebrow in silent question; to follow, or to remain.

[huffmikhail-blog]

ravseungjun:

( / the response about santa makes seungjun glance over at his friend, finding the frown on the other boys features cute; more in that teasing your friend, ‘your so cute let me pinch your cheeks way’. which might have been why he struggled to resist stretching out to do so. ) “how do you know santa isn’t real? maybe you’ve just been a bad boy.” ( / his grins widely at his own words, an expression that falters when he twists and groans softly when the scratching meets the right spot in his back. and he’s back to grinning in two seconds. ) “i would love a long read.” ( / his voice is in singsong, head wiggling and letting his head dip back. nothing beat getting scratches from his best friend and he would happily admit it. ) “i will take care of it well! and read it a hundred times if you do.” ( / brown hues gaze over at his friend, slowly beginning to sway; much like a child left ignored for two seconds growing bored. ) “what are you doing?”

what? { ` he’s incredulous now; that’s not possible. surely, being extremely generous would mean that he’s nice enough. he should be on that list. the only bad thing he’s done all year is want someone bad enough to be selfish about it. the pace of his scratching fingers begins to falter, but he picks it up again } no way. maybe he’s just mad i’m doing all his work for him. i bet i’m richer than santa. { ` and he believes it, too. but that junnie expects him to read it as well definitely makes him laugh, phone finally pocketed in exchange for giving his ( best ) friend more of his attention, as fleeting as it can be } nothing. paying attention to you. { ` his hands fall to seungjun’s sides, tickling a little to get a bigger smile out of the boy, and laughs at his own antics } is this enough attention?

[huffmikhail-blog]

ravseungjun:

( / seungjun’s head dips forward, twisting to get his friends hand in the precise position he needed it and letting out a whined groan in relief. every time the fingers came across the spot, it made him satisfied in only the way an itch getting scratched could be. his head barely turning to look over at his friend, brow furrowed and shrugging his shoulders; he didn’t know. ) “what?” ( / quickly followed by the answer which he jots down in the back of his mind. mikhail, loafers. a life time supply. ) “new loafers for mickey. i’ll tell santa.” ( / his lips curve with childishness, shifting the slightest and lolling his head as the fingers find the right spot once more. ) “get me war and peace by tolstoy. the muggle book. i’ve never read it. i want to read it.” ( / theres a pause. ) “and get it in english. i can’t read german.”

{ ` he scratches dutifully, like any good friend would. at least he’s helpful like this; he doesn’t know how else he can be, aside from being overly generous with his money. this should rack up enough karma points, shouldn’t it? tragedies are for losers, and mikhail doesn’t like losing anything } santa isn’t real. { ` he says this with a frown, still upset that he’d fallen for it until he was twelve. to be fair, it’s not exactly odd to think about santa travelling by portkey } it’s a long read. { ` he hasn’t read it, but the thickness he sees on it in passing is enough to tell him that it is } but you’d enjoy that, won’t you? i don’t think it’ll be too hard to get it in english...i’ll try to get it in the earliest edition i can find.

[huffmikhail-blog]

98% nice

[huffmikhail-blog]

huffzy:

in the liminal space of mikhail’s car ( father’s car, more likely ) suzy finds herself in quite a daze, just absentmindedly looking out the window at the traffic, crossing and uncrossing her legs, blinking slowly, and taking in the casual wonder of everyday chaos. there’s a different kind of tension inside the vehicle, one less about timeliness and moreso related to general dissonance. he is eerily quiet for a while before he finally speaks up.

“you’re unbelievable.” a mumble, just something she needs to say, and not something he needs to hear. suzy turns to look at him, neutral expression, and leans back into the seat, a languid pose, if you will. “i haven’t exactly asked him.”

she hasn’t exactly talked to him in a while, to be truthful. there’s no particular reason, and maybe it’s the lack of reasoning that bothers her. they just fall out of contact like that sometimes. nothing new.

“we can go wherever you want.” she replies, and it’s as much a general statement as it is an admission of indifference— it is mikhail’s plane, after all. she doesn’t take well to illusions of agency. “i’d assume you’ve told them a destination ahead of time, or are we going to wait at the airport while they fill up fuel? whichever’s the shorter trip, i guess. you choose.”

boring -- he should’ve taken someone more exciting. but he doesn’t expect much from suzy, and thinks she might take after her father. ( mikhail has never spoken more than a sentence to the man on any good day. ) but they’ve known each other a while, and though time does not guarantee mikhail’s patience, an attempt to work towards a greater amount of it must be acted on. the burden seems to fall on him to do so, since suzy isn’t making it any easier.

“colombia,” he says out of nowhere. “i want the coffee from there. it tastes better.”

this, of course, is a lie. it’s all a matter of preference, and mikhail’s changes every few weeks. but with money comes the pride of pretence, and mikhail has never known how to act as anything but someone who deserves only the best. suzy might never know how that’s like. still, now that they’re stuck in traffic,

“you honestly have no preference? we have a few days together -- might as well make the best of it.”

[ravseolhyun-deactivated20191121]

as you are,

[huffmikhail-blog]

ravseolhyun:

(/ something about her doesn’t want to let go, everything about her has no intention to stay. he leads her out to the floor and she follows, neck-deep in thought, pulling herself out just soon enough so she doesn’t drown, just soon enough so she can take her place in the little waltz. he’s handsome tonight, charming. and she can barely hear herself thinking, let alone speaking, ) do… you have someone else waiting?

{ ` the music begins, and he falls into a rhythm as easy as breathing. it’s a curse, he decides, and one that he no longer thinks he can endure, if he’s forced further to do so. but he smiles because he has to, and refuses to answer. he’s indulged her enough. some questions can only be asked } are you still with that boy? { ` he pulls her closer; an instinct bred through years he has not lived, in universes he does not remember } i hate seeing you with him. you do know that, don’t you?

[ravseolhyun-deactivated20191121]

as you are,

[huffmikhail-blog]

ravseolhyun:

(/ quite taken aback by his reply, quite saddened by it–obvious by the way her smile completely drains and reconfigures itself into her usual hopeful, unsure eyes. she takes the glass and sips obediently, and reminds herself that she is the most happy ) yummy. i can’t really tell what it is either but… it’s pretty good.  (/ a pause. she puts her glass down, something about the auras and the stars and the mood changes ) hey (/ she touches his arm in that way that she does, hopeful little smile, poison in her voice ) c’mon. dance with me.

{ ` he’s never taken seolhyun for an idiot. she must know the meaning in his actions, the words he never speaks, the request he does not entertain. perhaps, in another life, he would have thrown the world at her feet, and declared every action done for her sake; now, things are different. he is not powerless. he waits for her to ask, instead, and gives a small, content smile } ...alright. { ` but neither of them are winning, here; not when he takes her hand, and leads her a little too roughly, a little impatient, but not overtly so. he does not want to draw attention } shall this be our last dance for tonight, then? i’m quite tired, sweetheart, and i’m sure you have someone else waiting. { ` he stands before her, ready to dance, voice never betraying his disappointment at the mere thought of it } you will dance with someone else, won’t you?

[ravseolhyun-deactivated20191121]

— sleep on the moon

[huffmikhail-blog]

ravseolhyun:

“no!” she says a little too quickly, a little too loud. someone turns their head and seolhyun shyly tucks an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. this happens a lot it does, this happens too much for her to ever notice–her body moving on its own, when she blinks she sees her hands on his arm and she doesn’t ever remember moving.

seolhyun stares at her hands for a moment, confusion scrawled over her expression. “i didn’t– i mean…” always so speechless, always so breathless, she waits for the voice in her head and thankfully it doesn’t come.

she breathes a sigh of relief. “i didn’t mean it that way you know i don’t,” she says, grip tightening slightly. “i mean…

i”–love you–”you know… just– not… now…” grip tightening ever so slightly

he remembers their story from what she’s told him. it’s as viable an explanation as any, and if magic is real, why can’t they? -- an impossibility, ghosts, remembering, always, that they must be together, and knowing, inevitably, that they won’t be. mikhail chooses not to focus on the ending. now they are at the climax; soon, denouement.

yet he narrows his eyes at her, keeps the small flame of anger lit out of sheer cruelty. she’s always asked for him never to leave, but, oh, how villainous that she left him first. he doesn’t move an inch. 

“...alright,” he concedes, because he cannot bare that she has that expression on her face again, confused, more than a little baffled at herself. he has always been sure of her. his hand rests above the one over his arm, trying to pry it free. “you know i won’t do that, sweetheart.” mikhail brings the hand to his lips, kisses it like he remembers, “you know i can never bear to leave you.”

[huffolivia-deactivated20170316]

quiet.

@huffmikhail

she toes off her shoe, glancing up at mikhail from beneath her lashes. he’s reading something, for once, though she can’t tell what class it’s for, or if it’s not for a class at all. but from how quick he is to meet her gaze, it’s easy to tell he’s not focused on it at all. olivia offers him only the tiniest of smiles, deceptively pure before she looks back to her book, waiting for mikhail to do the same. a few minutes pass in silence and goosebumps rise on her arm, thin shirt doing nothing to protect her from the cold air.

reaching up, olivia touches the inside of his knee with a socked foot, barely grazing the inseam of his trousers, inching forward. she waits for the sharp inhale, but she keeps the smugness to herself, expression school into one of neutrality.

she’s been on the same page for ages, and that should be reason enough to tire of trying to understand something she really can’t be bothered for. now she’s got herself something far more entertaining. she inches closer, toes pressing dangerously close to his cock, but she hears the familiar sound of the librarian’s footsteps and pulls away, picking up her pen and scribbling gibberish into the margin of her notebook, quietly slipping her shoe back on.

[huffmikhail-blog]

mikhail didn’t go to the library a few hours ago with the intention of actually learning anything ( he never does, and it’s far too late to start now ). he thinks it’s an outdated idea, anyway; putting this information up on the internet under the guise of fiction is enough to fool muggles. no one will really look into it. or, at least, there should be a ministry of magic department dedicated to policing wizard internet posts -- it certainly wouldn’t be the first organisation to do so. 

anyway, it would be much easier to read about charms on, say, an iPad screen, and not on outdated, literal pages. the words are starting to swim together, mikhail can’t even find another copy of it in existence, and it’s not like he can use a highlighter on a library book. 

so it’s annoying, and he’s more focused on his own annoyance until he looks up and sees a familiar distraction. his gaze returns to the book; his attention span, already lost to the girl before him. he doesn’t move an inch when her foot begins to inch along his thigh; inhales a little to remind himself that this is the library; doesn’t dare exhale in disappointment when she pulls away. instead, he toes off his own shoe, the white sock covering his own foot more pristine and clean than his intentions will ever be. 

his leg is longer; ergo, his reach is much better, and he pokes her knee with a clothed toe once the threat is gone, and waits for her to accommodate so he can rest his foot against the chair -- not quite touching her; not yet. teasing is always fun when done in quiet.

[huffmikhail-blog]

98% nice

for everything it’s worth, mikhail thinks that suzy bae is not an entirely despicable person. all things considered, she’s actually pretty decent. but so far all she’s been is a temporary annoyance, if not someone to be ashamed of knowing. if she isn’t so pleasing to look at ( he’d rather cut his tongue out than call her anything close to pretty ), he might not even look at her at all. these if only’s and but’s all add up to the conundrum that he faces every morning during breakfast: is today the day he finally makes the call to free her father from the tyranny of employment?

today, the answer is not yet, mostly because mikhail is slightly uncomfortable about going through with his decision while suzy is in the backseat of a car with him. as expected, a chauffeur had been ready to pick them up from the train platform ( muggle, not 9 3/4 ), but the traffic is horrendous in london in peak hours, especially during the holidays; especially on the way to the airport.

it’s not the flight time that worries him. they’ll be flying on a private jet. while a portkey may be useful and efficient, mikhail neither trusts his own skills in making one, nor trusts any muggle employee not to touch it. ( people are terribly curious creatures, after all. 

nevertheless, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have his wand under his coat, ready to defend himself from the girl sitting next to him if need be. perhaps it’ll be good to make conversation; awkwardness never suited him anyway. 

“so -- some caribbean island, or bali? i’m inclined to choose the latter,” he says quickly, “but we can go wherever you want. i think your father’s flying our jet today...but he might also be flying my parents across the ocean. either way,” he returned to his phone, unbearably bored, “i don’t care as long as it’s somewhere warmer than england.”   

@huffzy

[ravseolhyun-deactivated20191121]

as you are,

(/ the middle of the night finds her alone but not lonely. there’s something magical about the way a date can be gone but still around, something magical about everything tonight. so incredibly elated is she that her feet carry her everywhere with little repercussion. she feels quite invincible, the most happy. so she doesn’t think of surprise or nervousness when she becomes the one to approach him ) mikhail (/ a slight touch of arm, trademark little pout ) you haven’t asked me to dance.

[huffmikhail-blog]

{ ` dates come and go, and the punch is spiked enough that mikhail keeps coming back for it. his gaze has always been on someone else. he doesn’t fiddle with his suit when his face gets warmer as the night drags on. another glass of punch, and his attention is called, and he only raises a brow at her statement } i haven’t. { ` he takes a sip of his drink. mikhail has never been good at letting go of old grudges. so he changes the subject } did you know that the punch has been spiked? i don’t know with what, though. perhaps you should have a taste. { ` he extends his glass to her politely. it isn’t a request. }

[ravseolhyun-deactivated20191121]

— sleep on the moon

[huffmikhail-blog]

ravseolhyun:

are those butterflies in her stomach or a dragon? with him, she can never be sure. a kiss, he asks. he says. he orders. she feels like crying a little, or melting to the floor and slinking away. but she has never been rude nor strong, or with so much control over herself when he’s watching her.

the way she sees it, there are an infinite number of ways that coincidences and happenstance can coalesce to create a moment. one single moment–each and every one defining the next. the way she sees it, there are no mistakes or good decisions–only moments. only coincidences. only happenstance.

by happenstance, she doesn’t move from her place, or take her wrist back from where he has her. she doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t breathe. “we aren’t back together, mikhail…” she reminds him in turn, voice soft, eyes fluttering to his shoulder. “seems inappropriate to go around kissing strangers.” she looks at him and finds herself wishing too quickly that he won’t hate her, or get tired of her, or impatient with her.

“no matter how perfect the stranger.”

she doesn’t move, but she doesn’t oblige him, either. mikhail cannot hope to understand it. nor does he try to. he only meets her refusal with a small pout, and only at her reminder of fact does he let go. “a temporary thing,” he tells her instead, as a matter-of-fact. a promise.

or a threat.

mikhail doesn’t rightly know what he means by it other than what it is. yet he doesn’t know how to take rejection, either; only that it isn’t failure. mikhail always gets what he wants in the end, and oh, does he desire her. there must be no other than her. everyone else is a distraction. everyone else is a hurdle to overcome. his father has always taught him to think about the bigger picture.

“we are not strangers to each other,” he reminds her, in turn. he cannot wipe the small frown on his brow: impatience, is what it is, and more than a healthy dose of offence taken. “are you denying to have ever known me, seolhyun? that’s terribly cruel of you.” he narrows his eyes at her then, quick as he is to anger when he gets on the right train of thought for it. “perhaps i should act like a stranger, then? pretend i’ve never known you either?”

[huffmikhail-blog]

ravseungjun:

( / he barely pauses to look at the couch, or meet anyone elses gaze – in fact, even if mikhail hadn’t responded, the ravenclaw would have plopped down into his lap without a second thought. slightly hazardous with his long limbs and slightly without a lack of care, he sunk down into his friends lap, already shifting to point out where he was itchy; right between his shoulder blades. he couldn’t reach it and that was enough of an excuse to bother the other. ) “mm, like the mouse. friends have nicknames for one another to show how close they are. you’re mickey and i’m junnie.” ( / his brow furrows and he twists. ) “now scratch, mickey.”

{ ` mikhail sometimes thinks, in his laziest moments, that it would do both of them a lot of good if he bought the other boy a back scratcher from christmas. it’s not surprising that mikhail’s only ever thought of it now, and it won’t be surprising if he forgets it when the time comes to order custom-made gifts for his friends. there’s a reason why he isn’t in ravenclaw. so he scratches dutifully, and only looks up from his phone to see where he’s scratching, nails against cloth, before going back to his phone again } do you know what i need? { ` he switches the topic quickly from embarrassing nicknames } a new pair of loafers. what do you want for christmas, junnie?

[huffmikhail-blog]

( / it's difficult to miss his sudden appearance in the hufflepuff common room, but he barely glances towards the looks he's getting. there's only on thing on his mind and when he spots his friend, his lips jut into a pout and he whines once hes close enough to be heard. ) "mickey, back scratches."

{ ` he doesn’t care about the you shouldn’t have given him the password and other such comments directed at him -- seungjun is his friend, and mikhail has always been especially generous about things he probably shouldn’t give away so easily. he’s scrolling through his phone, looking at news feeds, when said friend walks in, and it’s good that mikhail’s already settled in one of the bigger, comfortable couches in the common room. so he pats his lap, not even looking up, arms ready to receive the other boy to give him the desires scratches } are you just going to call me mickey forever?

[huffmikhail-blog]

All palaces are temporary.

MIKHAIL GO -- YULE BALL , 16.12.16

[yeot-meogeo]

[huffmikhail-blog]

still getting it.

[huffmikhail-blog]

miapuff:

Amelia Kim was exhausted. She had a comparatively ….active week, quite unexpected after her recent breakup with William – and last night was her first night of truly uninterrupted sleep. So sitting there, in her usual end of the Hufflepuff table, Mia flipped her long mane of brunette locks away from her eyes as she grabbed an extra breakfast roll to absentmindedly dip in her hot tea. It was then did she jump nearly clear off the bench and almost knocked off her cup of tea completely – yelping a little louder than intended. 

“Mikhail!” She breathed out, holding a hand to her heart. “Shut up! Omg- you scared the bloody bloomers outta me!”  Dark eyes glaring playfully at the (extremely) tall boy, she shoved a bread roll to his face. “ ‘M starving.” She mumbled, shoving a spoonful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “I know I’m supposed to starve myself like the rest of the girls here… y’know- for the ball, but I can’t help it! I just got the dress yesterday and I’m stuffin’ my face like this.” She laughed lightheartedly, shooting her friend a sweet little grin. 

he laughed ( what the hell are bloody bloomers? ), and caught the bread roll between his teeth when she shoved it at him. messing with people was fun when everyone was comfortable, tiredness aside. he had to give amelia credit for looking this good so early in the morning. his hair, on the other hand, was a mess of dark waves -- he’d fix it later. now he focused on shovelling bacon and eggs onto his plate. 

“treat yourself!” he pointed out, taking another bite out of his egg roll, and standing up a little to see if there was already any desert already, though the number of students blocked his view, and he went back to his breakfast. “it’s not like you’re going to be extremely bloated if you eat a hearty breakfast.” bread. bacon. eggs. could be more luxurious if he knew where it came from, but he wouldn’t complain about the food. he wasn’t that stupid. “breakfast is good for you,” he continued, “in case you’ve forgotten, we still have classes to go to before the ball. you wouldn’t want to have your stomach rumbling in the middle of class, do you? that happened to me once -- absolutely mortifying, it is.”