the sweet hereafter

it's a way of living with tragedy, i guess.

[inhwhy]

hello again !!! this is kd (she/her, est) back again with your revamped hope virtue ! i realized it was hard for me to differentiate insoo/taesoo in my head, hence the gender change... but i promise big sister™ han inhwa is still great and i hope you love her as much as i already do (and yes, the pink e-girl hair is canon) ! please like this post to plot ! @virtuemedia

          BIOGRAPHY         .          CONNECTIONS          .          PROFILE

(alexa, play the 2009 film ‘my sister’s keeper’ but, like, in reverse in a different way)

inhwa & insoo... two peas in a very bruised and broken pod!

from birth, she knows—as all ‘han’ daughters know—her place in society. elders brainwash the babies, and soon enough, inhwa’s preaching empty praises of indoctrination and age-old misogyny.

mother passes early on, stepmother prevails overseas, and in the absence of both, inhwa’s prides herself as this quasi-head of household: self-worth lies in the husband she hopes to marry, the brother she earnestly raises.

it’s like this for a while, she thinks—days blend together, and years amble by. often, she feels herself on the verge of breaking through this mind-fog, but then insoo smiles at her, and the doubt goes just as fast as it comes.

most people must think her to be stupid, for only stupidity can explain this unconditional tolerance for such servitude. but it’s weaponized naivety, inhwa likes to say; ignorance is bliss, after all, and she’ll never ask for better if she refuses to know better.

university is the one divergence in pattern—she can’t skate by the skin of her brother’s teeth anymore, so lifelong practices in sweet-talking turn recognized prestige in public speaking.

it’s a strange transition, one she never got to chance to brace herself for—to emerge from the shadows and be suddenly thrust into the spotlight. but the achievements are her own, and maybe appreciation’s her new addiction.

the virtue society’s the gateway, in a way, to her enlightenment and her self-execution. she witnesses miracles happen, and pushes her luck when campaigning for their class’ regent—she loses, obviously, but not before they get her hopes up only to break her fucking heart.

insoo being nominated into the ‘prudence’ lineage is the fatal kick while she’s still down. it’s the killing blow to her self-imposed insensitivity—in the end, she realizes, this doesn’t matter; maybe none of this does.

in a nutshell! she’s the prim and proper and very, very, very privileged older sister of insoo. he’s her pride and joy, receiving all the love she’s poured into his upbringing that she never even thought to consider for herself. university shows her that, shocker!—she is her own person, but a ‘han’ isn’t bred to fail. so when she loses the election to be cardinal regent, she spirals in, albeit, dramatic fashion. (she can’t help but think she’d never come to know this shame if she’d just remained the nameless sister.)

personality-wise! cinematic parallels are amy march from ‘little women’ (whEre is her laurie) and susan pevensie from the ‘chronicles of narnia’; but in ways, she’s also like a stereotypical korean drama mother-in-law who’ll slide you a wad of cash or slap you with kimchi if you get to close to her lil’ bro. a goody two-shoes who forcibly sees the good in people to a fault; lately, she’s been a bit more abrasive if not, at least, distant.

[inhwhy]

DONGMIN,

(...)

“hey, inhwa!”

her response makes him snicker, so perfectly peeved that he finds his feet drawing him nearer even against his greater judgement. she’s fun when she’s unfiltered, more real.

“i just wanted to make sure you weren’t like, i dunno, dead or something,” he crouches down in front of her. “shouldn’t you be glad i’m looking out for you like this?”

he grins at the way her eyebrows are pinched, her lips curling and ready to swear at him.

“hungover?” he says, tone playfully taunting without malice. “i told you to get some pear juice, didn’t i?”

inhwa doesn’t exactly like dongmin—entirely reliant upon the unwelcome fact that she can empathize. like most, she knows of him more than of who he is himself—what he does, who he knows. the only child of a temperance and a hope, the offspring of the bottom barrel of this spiked concoction known as the society: destined to greatness, or virtuous mediocrity—however you want to spin it.

if she were younger, less wise, she’d look down on him—glaring down from her self-proclaimed pedestal, a position conditionally-permitted from nothing but the print of her surname.

but she’s older now, and inevitably jaded. the word ‘han’ tattoos itself onto her soul, and brings about its own burden and brandishing—the fight for ‘prudence’ and accompanying filial piety is a never-ending battle, and she knows now, full and well, it’s one that she was born to never win.

it’s a realization that harbors a rake of embarrassment; a year ago to the day, she was no stranger to prejudice—for as much as inhwa had been heralded to hope, at least she wasn’t a temperance. a childhood of rumors and lifelong misconception, she’s aware, led to the subconscious disparaging of the boy before her.

she’d always considered him below her—oh, how the above average have fallen.

so as he approaches, there’s a slight catch in her throat—one she subdues and ultimately shuns away, for inhwa, ever the righteous lady, felt anything but this repressed accountability to apologize.

she squints, sarcastic tone dripping into the dramatic roll of her eyes. “i should be glad? if anything, i’m suspicious of how nice you’re being today, dongmin.”

the length of her finger presses against forehead as she shields her sight from sunlight; begrudgingly, she half-sits herself up, with the angle of her other arm as the base for her upturned torso. 

“actions speak louder than words, pal. if you were actually worried, you’d have given me that pear juice yourself.”

[inhwhy]

          open          ,

she’s usually more graceful than this—but elegance is easily forgone in the face of a splitting migraine. every so often, she winces, inhales sharply and dramatically touches her forehead for effect, when the light is too bright, when the world is too loud.

classes pass by in a flash—or, rather, faster than she can process. the discussion of syllabi blurs, and half-hearted and bygone greetings with classmates, professors, and other colleagues all blend together. but don’t blame her too much: it’s hard to discern differences when hungover and dealing with an accompanied headache.

her professor couldn’t dismiss them any later, and inhwa herself nearly bolts out of the door—the clack of her heels as the first sounds echoing in the hallway before the hustle and bustle of the academic crowds scurries in behind her. she’s irritable, and thus, searching for some well-deserved self-isolation; her feet lead her to the campus quad, eyeing a perfect spot of shade tucked in the corner of the sunlit center.

she’s all too fast in plopping herself down, ignoring the subconscious nagging against freshly-cut grass staining cashmere with a heavy sigh. her arms lazily spread out on either side as her head nestles into the comfort of dirt—how poetic.

and yet, of course, her moment of peace is quickly interrupted by the call of her name and a following grumble from the pit of her throat. “what do you want?” she aimlessly snaps. “don’t you know better than to talk to me in public?”

[dahyun]

210909 shopee live // nayeon ♡

[inhwhy]

KIT,

(...) “i - … shouldn’t be here,” he stutters. but it’s too late - he spoke, and his slim opportunity to leave without a single word vanishes just like that - and it’s with an awkward glance sent his stepbrother’s way that he shuffles forward. there are hard feelings, years of them, and no amount of mystery alcoholic beverages can surmount that.

as they come crashing back, he dubs his search for momentary reprieve an abject failure.

“you’re the one who looks closer to throwing up.” there’s no trace of teasing, or even any mean spirit - it’s a flat statement that makes kit’s shoulders tense, shadow cast over his brow. he wishes he weren’t worried. but he manages to mask any trace of concern, anyway, gaze falling to the grey scuffs on his dress shoes.

(...) it’s late, and only the moon is bright enough to be seen through all the smog. cars honk, mixed in with the muffled sound of music from the inside, and kit doesn’t say anything else.

it takes a second for taesoo to register—the voice, the person. halfheartedly turned-head glances back, squints against the backlight of chandelier and candle glow to identify a familiar (yet wholly unfamiliar) frame. it’s one that’s tall and large, much like his own, yet slouches upon entrance. it’s a unique characteristic that makes taesoo want to immediately laugh, for kit might be the only person who actually cowers in his presence.

it’s a foreign feeling, to be feared—one that taesoo naturally denies if not, at least, avoids. but the temptations of whiskey and lack of inhibitions have him reveling in a sense of power that he knows he’ll never truly possess.

so, just this once, let him enjoy the fucking moment.

a slow turn and a heavy hit of his elbows against railing keep him balanced, head cocked as eyesight zeroes in on his opposite. “ah, my other baby brother,” he half-slurs out. “came to escape the wickedness that is han insoo, too?”

an empty laugh, a scoff under his breath, and taesoo forcing himself up—hoists himself up into straightened back and sluggish steps. “he looks angry, doesn’t he? i mean, i would know—i’ve spent my whole life deciphering insoo’s expressions. i think of it like i’m defusing a bomb: one bad move, and—” a pursing of his lips as a shuddering ‘boom!’ sound escapes from taesoo’s lips, paired with the exaggerated hand gestures and all.

“but you know insoo, too, and i think we’re both well-aware that there’s only a few things in life that can get insoo this... well, upset.” the statement comes as taesoo just arrives in front of kit; face-to-face now, the older male gingerly lays a hand on the other’s shoulder, an action that conflicts with his coming-mismatched words.

“why’d you come, man? like, you and i both know all of our lives would be easier if you’d just—” the words catch in his throat for a second. say it, don’t say it, say it. a sigh escapes taesoo as he glances away, mentally debates himself for a moment before staring blankly at his stepbrother. if anything, he could always blame it on the alcohol. “—if you had just stayed in hong kong.”

[inhwhy]

           open         ,          @virtuemedia

he’s not drunk enough for this—at least, he thinks he isn’t. sober thoughts turned staggering walk; slurred words give his intoxication away, but he’s still coherent. he’s still here. 

his insides are a messy concoction of champagne and tequila, a mistake of mixing drinks as the threat of a hangover looms over his shoulder. the others are having fun, he thinks—maybe not genuinely, and probably in that feigned rich-kid-superficiality where you’re buzzed enough to forgo inhibitions, but never enough to let your guard down.

that’s the part that pisses him off the most, the one he can’t escape from. the mind games, the constant competition—what does it even mean to meet someone anymore when, in this world, all that matters is sizing somebody up and shooting them down?

it’s suffocating, this lifelong struggle, so he retreats—he wouldn’t survive the battle, anyways—to the balcony. a whip of fresh air threatens to slap sobriety in his face, and as he breathes in, out, in, the steps of another disrupt his rhythm—indicated by an outward sigh and a slow turn of the head as his greeting.

“if you’re looking to throw up, the bathroom’s in the other direction.”

[inhwhy]

          @servares​          ,​

did they really have to get here so fucking early? holed up in this prison of a ballroom, forced to wait—just sitting, and what? staring at each other?

the soles of his shoes kick at marbled floor; such a pristine reflection stares back, and taesoo bites back the urge to spit at the sight. uneasy hands fail to calm his uneasy heart—shove themselves into silk-lined pockets as he paces. his self-designated corner for the night seems to shrink with every passing minute; maybe it’s just his mind playing tricks on him—constricting him and confining him to this feigned closeness with the other six.

taesoo doesn’t speak much—if he had a choice, he wouldn’t at all—but silence beckons small talk, and when he finds himself unconsciously orbiting closer to the others, shaky eyes and dry throat struggle through striking up a conversation.

“they could’ve at least given us the luxury of pre-gaming before this whole shindig,” he greets; his voice is airy, at a volume just above a mumble. “i mean, what’s the point of all us being sober if our beloved regent’s the only one who’s goin’ to be talking anyways?”

it’s a mix of a challenge and a complaint—hyuk’s one of the more amicable virtues and, if not, at least the most adaptable. taesoo’s pessimism isn’t too quick to annoy, too easy to criticize with hyuk—and for that, maybe he should thank the other guy once in a while, for not perceiving his unhappiness as downright ungrateful.

a soft whip of his arm—the rustle of cotton, the swish of silver—follows, as does a brief glance at his wristwatch. “i mean, i don’t remember us taking this long to eat... do you?”

[inhwhy]

ahHHh !!! it’s finally happening ! we’re so excited to see virtuehq come to life after having it in the works for literal months, and seeing everyone make our brain children their own is so heartwarming :’ ) with that being said, hello ! my name is kd (she/her, est), and this is your resident #eboy han taesoo a.k.a. the infamous han insoo’s older brother ! he’s a sad excuse for a virtue, even in the hope lineage, but please give him love regardless (i promise you, he needs it) ! leave a like if you want to plot ! @virtuemedia

                   BIOGRAPHY     .     CONNECTIONS     .     PROFILE

(alexa, play the 2009 film ‘my sister’s keeper’ but, like, in reverse)

sometimes, taesoo wonders why he was born when his life clearly doesn’t amount to even an ounce of his brother’s.

he’s not sure why they’re treated so differently; they’re barely a year apart in age, only a few inches in different in height. sure, taesoo has their mother’s eyes, and insoo, he, with their father’s wit. see, they’re not so different. (it’s a weird feeling, you know, to be constantly pitted against someone who lives in your house, eats your food, and steals every fiber of your soul.)

the naive, stupid part of his brain still thinks he’s a good older brother. in ways, they were close, taesoo and insoo—maybe not ‘you’re my best man’ kind of close, but at the end of the day, they’re brothers. blood’s thicker than water, or so the saying goes.

taesoo wears a lot of different hats: insoo’s babysitter, insoo’s secretary, insoo’s bodyguard, insoo’s butler, always, always, always belonging to insoo—never to himself.

at first, taesoo doesn’t mind; rich kids come with their own rich set of problems, and his manifests in a lack of direction. motivation doesn’t come easy when money’s so accessible, and he’d happily let insoo soak up all his ambition if it meant coasting through the rest of his life.

but you can’t survive with a mindset like that in the han family, and when ‘fight or flight’ survival instincts kick in, what other choice does he have than to fend for himself?

it’s university where he learns what it means to be, well, his own person; unfamiliar praise and compliments have him greedier than usual, and it’s then—this brief moment—where there’s this perpetual yearn to live rather than to just be alive.

yet, late bloomers aren’t looked upon so fondly in the han family, and a nomination and eventual initiation into the ‘hope’ lineage all but solidifies his status as inferior, lesser. the one ‘han’ who just couldn’t hack it as a prudence virtue, huh?

it’s sad and annoying and depressing and fucking infuriating all at the same time, but, still, han taesoo doesn’t do emotions. he was never taught feelings. so when overloaded with all these concerns, his first reaction is to just... shut down.

(press his ‘factory reset’ button, put him in rice overnight—it might just absorb all the angst out of him. if that doesn’t work, maybe try a year?)

[allmypoetry]

😼☀