祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
KIROKAZE
@theartofmadeline
wallacepolsom
RMH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
h
JVL
blake kathryn
🪼
occasionally subtle
⁂
Product Placement
Jules of Nature
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
taylor price
Three Goblin Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Claire Keane
seen from Singapore
seen from Ireland
seen from France
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Sweden
seen from Türkiye
@jinhwanxobs
tracker! this is also a general plotting call!
waiting on
@obsxjiho @obsmin @obsheon @obshimchan @seokjinxobs @obsdongwoo @yerixobs ( @obsseolyoung ? i think? )
owed
@obsxeunae
notes
some of these are a bit older so if any of you want to drop the thread or do a new one instead, i’m totally down for it, just lmk! i’ve also been in process of updating jinhwan’s abilities and wards as there’s some stuff i should have added from the beginning and other things :x
160814 ELYSIUM LOVESOME KEN - do not edit
a little birdie told me...
the voice on the radio.
( @jinhwanxobs )
Yerin lives off of the amusement that she gets from hearing people talk about this and that, and of things that annoy them or make them happy. She doesn’t feel envious of all the commotion that callers bring into her show, but it’s nice to have someone speaking to Yerin as if she’s a friend- as if he hasn’t outcasted herself from the rest of society with a fake name. There’s not much to say about that, and Yerin can’t spend her entire evening in a pit of self-loathing and lamenting. She pockets the feelings for some other time and resorts back into her stoic and judgy nature. It takes a second for her to end the call with that yappy old woman, instead pulling up the other line as she introduces the next caller. “If you’re just tuning in, this evening, I asked if anyone had problems with customer service before. We’ve heard some pretty strong opinions so far, but let’s hear what our next caller has to say. I heard someone say Jack?”
Keep reading
( @yerixobs ) Jinhwan’s tuning into Nova’s radio show as per usual. It’s always after he’s made dinner and cleaned up his kitchen slash laboratory for the night, and sometimes he even settles in with a glass of wine and a well charged laptop nearby following the tweets on his timeline. Tonight is one such night.
“My question for tonight is this: is it healthy to believe in horoscopes and things of that nature? Is it better to doubt fate or live like fate controls the outcomes of our actions?”
There’s a tap of nails on wood as Jinhwan ponders the question. It’s almost the very end of the question session before he finally dials the number for the station.
Fate… as a well educated witch, Jinhwan knows there’s something to things unchangeable, set in stone, but magic and the fickle nature of mortal beings make divination and the like tricky fields. It seems like there’s a fair number of fakes out there tricking the not so critically thinking and not so magically inclined… he’s felt the need himself to trick a few of them into trying to channel his missing girlfriend (there is always the slight hope they’ll actually be able to do it) and then proceeding to laugh his ass off at girlfriend impersonations that could be anything but Hyerin. (No, Hyerin would reach through the nether and tug on his ear for being the idiot that he is. This, he knows.)
Horoscopes themselves he puts little stock in… every witch worth their salt knows the heavenly bodies pull and tug on the world and its magicks and beings upon it, but should he really be called to believe the newspaper will know his specific fate based on his star sign? Preposterous. He takes long to answer though because he doesn’t quite want to give away his identity so far as that.
“...Good evening, Nova -- Jack once again. This… seems like it has a straightforward answer but…” and Jinhwan pauses for a second. This question is really making him feel strange the more he thinks about it... but he shakes his head and continues. “It’s easy for someone to just let their life be dictated by horoscopes and fortunes, I believe. Some people need that on occasion, to be told what and how to think... But frankly, my dear, it’s irresponsible,” he laughs humorlessly. “Ah, but that said -- not to anger any magic naysayers in your beloved audience -- but astrology and divination really are a legitimate magical fields, but I cannot stress the importance of finding a legitimate practicer! Ah, a... beloved of mine...” Why, Jinhwan, would you bring this up? He winces at himself. “Well, there are some false prophets out there that would do any old impersonation of the dead or missing.”
180417 EDV Showcase SO KUTE - do not edit
Agent Double-Oh-Wolf
a were in need.
Dongwoo leans forward with a toothy, wolfish grin crammed with larger and much, much pointier teeth by the second. He wasn’t lying about his lack of bodily control. With such a rudimentary grasp on basic werewolf abilities, it’s no surprise that he’s desperate enough to steal from a witch.
“We aren’t talking mere sex,” he says. “This is next level stuff that’ll blow your mind. People into erotic art will commission some wild stuff, yeah? If you saw my professional portfolio – not the one with paintings of people’s pets, but my other professional portfolio – then you might change your mind.”
He shudders, but miraculously holds onto a human shape. “But ah, I didn’t realize you’re probably getting offers up the wazoo,” he says, glancing at the witch’s claws. “I know what it’s like though, all these furry types come outta the woodwork…”
He shudders once more, the shaking strong enough to wipe the smile off his face. His mind feels cloudy, as though simple thoughts exhaust him and take extreme effort to navigate. He feels his throat tighten and he speaks, his voice thinning into nothingness. “Notepad…? Uh yeah, you can take it.”
Dongwoo holds out the notepad with two, trembling hands. It’s clear he’s doing everything he possibly can to avoid transforming in front of the witch, but his best effort isn’t enough. He lowers his head. “Sorry, I’m…mmmm…don’t feel good.”
The notepad slips between his fingers.
He crouches down on the ground and hides his face against his kneecaps. There isn’t a muscle on him that’s not shaking, trembling with force and threatening to give way beneath the invisible weight pushing him down. “I don’t wanna break anything,” he says, voice muffled against his knees. “It just hurts so bad.”
If there’s anything Jinhwan does not need, a nervous, shaking wolf in his shop full of nice, breakable things is certainly not it, or, lord forbid, an uncontrolled were on edge enough to bite or otherwise maul someone that could easily end up being Jinhwan himself. Even if he weren’t concerned in that regard, he’s not quite so cold that he’d let someone crumple over in pain while he is well-equipped to help the poor guy; he does sympathize with his desperation even if he doesn’t agree with his methods.
“Do you think you can hold on for a little longer for me?” Jinhwan asks, his tone softening as he crouches next to the were and sends up a silent prayer to any god that might be listening to keep anyone from coming into the shop and worsening the situation. He also slowly reaches to pick up the notepad and tucks it into a pocket; it’s for the were’s own good, he knows.
“I will need to decline your… generous offers, but I’ll help you for now, okay?” he says and raises a hand, hesitantly resting it on his shoulder. “Easy now.”
There’s no telling if letting him shift would make things better or worse, but he doesn’t want to bank on the latter. He hates grabbing stuff from his store stock, but at this point in time, he’s got little choice in the matter; he straightens up and takes a step to the shelf behind them.
Relaxant… relaxant, where does he keep that again?
When he turns back to the were, he has a bottle of relaxant (purified ciraluna, really -- diluted werenip more than anything) and a bottle of “generic human” in the other. If he can get the were to take the nip, that’s his first priority. He pop-twists the cap off the nip with an expertly applied claw and guides it under his nose.
“I can feed this to you myself, but I’m certain you should find it easy enough to drink... mm, what’s your name, doll?”
whine and dine
seokjin.
Hanging out with a friend like Jinhwan brings Seokjin the best kind of feeling and tucks itself nicely into his chest. The worries of the day, the week, the month disappear and Seokjin lets out a sigh; finally being able to relax and act stupid (but not too stupid) in good company is definitely the break that Seokjin had needed from his day to day life. He scoots his chair closer into the table, bringing the glass up to his lips, but not sipping it out of pure distraction. He likes to put his focus on people when they talk to him, so it isn’t rare for him to forget that he’s supposed to be eating or drinking something. He only remembers to actually drink it after his own giggles have died down (the duo has most certainly caused a ruckus in this Fine Establishment). “Nothing better than shitty beer and spilling secrets that come up when alcohol is involved,” Seokjin nods, like he’s just made a promise, and raises his glass up a few centimeters in a mock toast.
Seokjin smiles now, but it’s more of sympathy than anything else. “You’re busy, that’s all. Maybe it’s good to break the routine once in a while though? Maybe your mind can’t handle the everyday-ness of everyday. Doesn’t mean it’s any bad to stop and… do something new.” His advice isn’t new; Seokjin has been trying to tell himself the same sort of thing. As lovely as it sounds, it’s difficult to put into practice and Seokjin knows it, so he throws in a quick “But I’ll try to help you out if you want,” into the mix as a disclaimer. What else could Seokjin do? He cares for his friends. He understands the feeling.
“You’d need some real patience to take on an apprentice,” Seokjin chirps, quirking his eyebrow in curiosity. “Try it though. I’m dying to hear you either praise the hell out of your apprentice or talk shit about them. I’m already mentally preparing myself for both situations.” All he has to do is shrug his shoulders and drink down the wine with a nice gulp or two before setting it onto the table, nose scrunching at the taste that it leaves in his mouth. He decides it’s a good idea to wash it down with a glass of something new. Jinhwan’s comments have him scoffing, almost breaking out into another laughing fit. “Oh yeah, not old at all. Nope. And by the way - did you want me to buy your first walker for your or something?”
Joking around is easy and safe. It’s good company, Seokjin reasons, leaning onto an elbow as he sips from his glass. “I think we’re supposed to just… know what kind of cheese it is,” he replies, picking one up and giving it a sniff.
Ew.
“You know, I don’t think we’re very good at this whole wine tasting thing. I think I read online that we’re supposed to, I don’t know… swirl it in our mouths, taste some fuck-old grape, and then spit it back out?”
“I don’t know, Seokjin… I’m doing what I love already… but the offer is appreciated.” What else would Jinhwan do if he weren’t dedicated to his job? He hasn’t really considered it; maybe he has grown stagnant. He laughs. “On that note, perhaps I’m not yet ready for an apprentice -- maybe I need to go out and see the world while I’m young and hardy!” he gestures with his almost empty wine glass. Jinhwan rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, hooking his arm over the back of it in an extremely relaxed position, very nearly pouting at the self-inflicted diss over his age. “Jinnie, really -- but if you’re going to go to the trouble to get your poor, ailing hyung a walker, get one with a bit more class than those with the tennis balls on the end. You know hyung’s taste is very refined,” he snarks back, finishing off yet another glass as he watches Seokjin sniff the cheeses. He sighs. Who has room in their brain for cheese memorization? Then he’s bolted out of his thoughts. “Spit it out?! Are you kidding me?” Jinhwan barks, his brow furrowed in shock, mouth agape even as he reaches for another bottle. “Next you’ll be telling me -- please do not tell me there are tin buckets somewhere at our feet we’re meant to aim for. I just will not look,” he says, popping the cap off a white wine which name escapes him and downs another glass in defiance. He’s absolutely personally and a bit drunkenly offended by the idea of wasting perfectly good alcohol like that. “Wine-drunk has entered the urban vernacular for a reason! I thought these places were supposed to cater to that,” he gripes. He’s making a bit of a show, but no one seems to be willing to address him so he feels well within his right but leans in closer to Seokjin anyway. “It is against my moral philosophy to spit anything -- which makes mouthwash an absolute disaster -- but I would betray the very naming of my business if I were to.” It’s unclear if he’s entirely joking, but fair enough for someone who makes potions as a living. “You know,” his voice lowers conspiratorially, “It’s all about the same anyway, don’t you think? ...Not too bad really.”
AGOSTINO VERROCHI Peaches, Plums and a Melon on a Wooden Table, with a Magpie, Apples, Grapes and Other Fruit in the Background on a Stone Ledge, Ovoli Mushrooms, Figs and Other Fruit on a Marble Edge [early 17th century]
Agent Double-Oh-Wolf
dongwoo.
It’s dangerous for a novice like himself to get all his information from Youtube’s hoard of DIY alchemists, but he doesn’t have much choice. He’s even subscribed to a handful of mommy vloggers who claim having their werewolf children swallow a tablespoon of coconut oil in the morning helps them concentrate better in school.
None of it has helped him so far.
He flinches when he’s called out, looking all too much like a puppy caught chewing furniture. His gaze casts downwards, his eyes blink rapidly in guilt, and he shoves the notepad into his hoodie pocket. It’s obvious that it’s in there; it’s leaving a bulky, rectangular outline against his clothing.
As his nerves get a hold of him, he finds it more and more difficult to hold a single form. It’s feels as though all the bones and muscle in his body are liquefying, as though the sinew that holds him together are weakening and snapping off. “Please don’t turn me into a toad!” he blurts out. “I’d rather just get arrested and locked up.”
He shuts his eyes.
“Sir, I’ll do anything you want me to…except come up with enough money to pay,” he says. “I’m an artist actually – an erotic painter, to be perfectly honest! I could paint your greatest fantasies for free! Or if you wanted me to partake in those fantasies with you, Sir…”
This is, in fact, a very dangerous kind of desperate standing in front of Jinhwan now. It’s written in how the were trembles -- it’s not even close to nighttime, and yet it’s like he’s having trouble staying whole regardless. Jinhwan sighs silently and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Clearly a risky situation that needs defusing, but he mostly just feels exasperated, and the werewolf’s rambling is not terribly helpful in that regard.
“I’m not -- That’s stereotyping right there,” he protests but makes a mental note that perhaps he should work on an amphibian transformative just in case he needs to use it as leverage in the future. He does huff aloud at the werewolf’s declaration of bankruptcy, tilting his head and allowing himself crossed arms and a momentary hand across the eyes, shielding his vision from this nightmare of a customer experience.
“That is most certainly not what I meant by desperate,” Jinhwan says stiffly. He takes his hand off his eyes and stares down the would-be recipe thief. “Do you think a trade of mere sex means anything to someone in an industry like me?”
Jinhwan probably shouldn’t ramble at a werewolf threatening to turn, but really, it’s nearly offensive. He’s got to pay his bills too, after all. “Your... offer is also not the first proposition I’ve gotten, nor will it be the last I turn down, I assume.” He rolls his eyes. “...Unfortunately…” he says, but it seems more like he’s addressing some nameless and offensive god with how he mutters upward than to the were in front of him.
“I’m not going to call the cops -- gods no -- will not take you up on anything related to sex, won’t turn you into a frog, but I am going to need you to give me that notepad, doll.”
He sticks a hand forward and beckons back toward himself with a clawed finger. “...Maybe then I might consider helping you.”
a little unanticipated aviation
eunae.
.. “– my keys – or my phone –” not calm AT ALL. he’s going to lose everything, FUCK.
offended was not quite the reaction she was expecting; maybe mild distaste if anything. definitely not such a haughty kind of refusal. it does nothing more than bring out a similar reaction of her own — her cheeks fill with air as she puffs them up, lips tilted downwards and into a pouting frown. “they’re mine,” she mumbles — of course she would eat them, considering they were in her house to begin with. she just hadn’t got the chance to yet, was all.
almost as if just to prove a point, she takes the cracker into her own mouth instead, almost huffing as she does so. it’s not that bad — was he one of those high-class picky types that only ate certain brands and very specific flavors and nothing more? if he was, she’d be the vaguest hints of sympathetic towards him; it sounded like a sad life to lead, considering the already limited diet of a bird and all.
her hospitality had been cast aside entirely — how rude. then again, considering how he was in his human form, was it really anything to be surprised about?
“things…?” her voice is muffled behind the cracker in her mouth; she tilts her head slightly as she peers down at him. keys? phone? ah, those things. of course — “those are at the store.”
behind the counter, specifically, buried carefully under the pile of clothes she had also left behind. nothing concerning would happen to them — she left a ‘closed’ sign on the door, after all, complete with a sad sticker to express the sheer level of disappointment to be had in closing early. it’s not like anyone would come by and take any of the things left behind if the store was closed, right?
though, it probably wouldn’t be too great of an idea to have the store completely empty throughout the rest of the day and the night — she hadn’t turned the lights off, after all, and that would be nothing less than a blatant if not strange attraction. a glance is thrown towards the window in thought.
“you’re like this… for how long?” if it’s too long, then well — she’d figure out something.
the bird wheezes and huffs, merely letting out a distressed trill at the less than descriptive answer. how is he to know, after all, that his belongings are at least somewhat secure? that of course would require him to have a bit more faith -- and perhaps a smidgen more critical thinking -- in regard to the other witch. but then again, he typically only gets like this (this likewise being a literal actual bird) when he’s somewhat out of his mind.
feathers ruffled but feeling desolate, jinhwan surrenders himself to the couch cushion to become a small still ball of feathers.
“...depends,” he manages to answer after a moment. maybe… maybe he’s just got to hope and act on the assumption she is actually trying to help him no matter how it seems on the face of things. “if… i’m upset, longer. usually.” -- and he’s despondent.
but there is another an option available to him he doesn’t even want to consider. he could take the charm off... but in his shaken mind, having her help getting the charm off is akin to giving up the only thing he has left. an absentminded clawed foot still reaches up questioningly in spite of his wants and disturbs the metal under his feathers, a dull glitter despite the green sheen on the metal.
“are you... considering taking me back?” maybe he should be polite. he shouldn’t have turned up his beak at the cracker. oh, gods, what if she decides to not help him because of his blatant refusal of such a generously offered cracker? jinhwan’s not certain he wants to go back the same way he came either; being stuffed in a jacket is not ideal, nor is not knowing exactly where he is like that, or god knows if he would actually be brought straight back. much too little control for a very particular magpie.
“do you think… maybe… you bring it back here? and lock up shop?” yes. yes, that might work. he makes the most pleading face a bird can make. “i can stay here and wait…? ...please.”
🜨 => braggart
himchan.
The nervousness Himchan feels is thick, permeating off of him in tidal waves. There is no need for complete panic yet, but the waves are growing larger with each passing second. It was the right move to tell his friend, he thinks. Being alone in such a life, being supernatural, was terrible; Himchan could attest to that himself. So, why, why was he feeling he should have given it a second thought?
“Yes. I am serious, Jinhwan.” The way Jinhwan said that makes Himchan uneasy. He had to be strong for his friend, though, right? It is not the time to joke. To him, this is a serious topic at hand. Why would he not be serious? This is important to him! “I wouldn’t joke about this. I don’t think it is a joke. I don’t think that what we..are is a joke.” And it wasn’t. Being a were, one had to adopt a serious attitude, or else instances of losing control and giving way to the animal were all the more easier. It was a responsibility he had to take up without a choice.
The thundering of his heart against his chest tells him that something is wrong. The way Jinhwan is acting sets his anxiety spiking, and Himchan doesn’t know what to do except to bite onto his lower lip, peeling the skin. He waits patiently, beginning to fiddle with his fingers. Jinhwan was probably just thinking of a way to open up to him – yeah, that was it. It was not easy to talk about these things. Nothing could prepare someone to have a heart-to-heart with their friendly-competition-bro. They were usually trying to find ways to one-up the other, not have a deep conversation!
Himchan almost jumps when Jinhwan passes by him. He forces a small laugh at himself and rubs at his nape. “Y-yeah?” He swallows, hard. The lump beginning to form in his throat said enough. He had made a fundamental mistake. Shit. “Oh, you make… this all?” His brown orbs dart from one corner of the room to another, scanning what is on display. Everything, except for the dildos, is potions. Potions. “Fuck.” He inaudibly murmurs beneath his breath.
His gaze immediately falls to the ground, unable to reach Jinhwan, or even his potions. Of course, how could he overlook such a thing. “Oh.” He cannot even find anymore words. The blow was too much. To add insult to injury, he felt embarrassed, too. His ears were burning a bright red, though his face felt cool to the touch.
Reaching for the counter, Himchan steadies himself. He doesn’t feel too good. Jinhwan wasn’t a were. He was a witch. That was clear to him now, but his brain could not wrap around why the shop-owner had feathers. Do witches grow feathers? It didn’t matter, because he couldn’t find a way to open his mouth.
“It’s…like — okay, dude,” Jinhwan says, the words just a little awkward in his mouth. “Not many witches are as gorgeously organically decorated as I am. So — er — werebird isn’t —“ he clears his throat, “—too weird.” He isn’t quite as embarrassed as Himchan seems to be, cheeks all reddened, but he is still very hesitant. He should just play this off, right? Jinhwan steps down from the counter and carefully places a hand on Himchan’s shoulder. Casually.
“Why don’t I just show you the stock? Let you glance around a bit,” he nods, with the slightest bit of pressure in his grip, a suggestion to the glazed over wolf in his shop. It would almost be nice if Himchan were to tease him about the more risqué products -- it would certainly be more in character for their usual banter and much less awkward than the current exchange. Imagine that.
He walks towards them himself ahead of Himchan waving his hand at the line of bottles as he speaks. “I told you supplements -- I wasn’t kidding -- the most effective supplements you can imagine.” He turns his head toward Himchan but still walks down the line. “Physical strength, agility, stamina, -- uh -- vigor… appetite -- You can take a closer look if you want yourself.” Jinhwan turns to face Himchan, a wry smile on his lips and waves casually to the shelves on the opposite wall. “I’ve got stuff for shapeshifters of all kinds as well… Easy to develop when you have your own special bits and know how difficult keeping everything in check can be.”
Playing it so cool, Jinhwan… He puffs out his chest a little -- metaphorically speaking, though the avian tainted bit of him is always tempted to literally do so. “I might even let you have a… sample bottle if it tickles your fancy -- between friends, you know.”
a little birdie told me...
nova.
(...)
Yerin scrunches her nose and leans back, folding her arms. “Oh, but that’s an entirely different argument. When I was with customer service, they usually take so long to get my request through. Anyways- has anyone else ever had terrible customer service? Phone in or reply, you know how it goes, my dears.”
It’s that time of night when Jinhwan turns on his computer and navigates to the local radio’s website, pulling up the broadcast for the evening. Nova, of course, is in charge of the broadcast once again, and of course Jinhwan can’t miss it. Tonight’s question is tantalizing as well, as much bait as anything, but he rolls his eyes at the first indignant caller that bites the line. Mindless, unconscious consumers. Naturally. It’s bait for a talker (and complainer) like him too, so before Nova even asks for other callers, Jinhwan is dialing the familiar station number. There’s a pause before he hears the call connect, and he hears Nova from his phone and a muted echo of the radio from his computer. Jinhwan smiles at his computer as she introduces the call, flicking through his feed and his own unsent tweet, before he speaks confidently, drawing his words out, enough dialectal speech he doesn’t sound quite like himself. “...I heard someone say Jack?” He laughs. “Nova, love, this sort of question is just asking for trouble. You know I need to pipe in, here. If you would be so kind to let a man monologue for a moment -- I do own my own business outright, after all.” Jinhwan pauses, and hopes and waits for her to entertain him once again before continuing. “After all, the gall some people have! I shan’t get into the horrendous things people suggest to me as a small business owner, but these sorts of people are horrible even when you are management. The lovely caller you had before me — why, does she expect every underpaid worker to lick her boots? Such arrogance! — it’s all rich people with gaping mouths or poor brainwashed middle class that spew this foul nonsense. Customer service is just as emotionally taxing as psychological work, I say, except you’re being paid for both emotional and physical work, and oft underpaid to boot.” He stops, as if brooding (he is). “It’s to be expected if it’s subpar occasionally.”
fowl play
jooheon.
His eyes remain narrowed, his gaze fully focused on the male before him as he continued to warn the younger. He was finding it harder to retort, especially when the older made several good points. However, his eyes advert at the mention of family, the male slightly hesitant before responding. “Ain’t got no one.” He mumbles out, plunging both of his hands deeply into his pockets.
His posture tense and clenched, Jooheon’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of the male’s formally harden gaze softening, the youth shuffling his feet around uncomfortably. He actually couldn’t find himself fighting back or arguing in the slightest, something in his gut telling him to handle this situation easier. Besides, this guy was looking out for him, right? He just needed to place a small amount of trust in him. Slowly, the raven relaxed his stance, nodding his head nonchalantly as the other male continued to speak.
(Keep reading)
Jinhwan’s brow furrows, and he grits his teeth at the by far unnecessarily rough treatment of the thief yet bystander in this particular conflict.
“Hey, now, he’s not involved with me,” Jinhwan says quickly, waving a hand. “Leave him out of this -- what are you doing? He has no part with me, don’t you hear me?” he suddenly snaps, eyes wide in disbelief as he attempts to jostle the officer with a shake of his shoulder. Then he’s struggling as the hand on his shoulder shoves him forward, yanking his arm behind his back.
“Yeah, yeah. Like we buy that, son,” one of the officers snorts. The other laughs wryly as well -- Jinhwan’s so absolutely disgusted. He doesn’t fight the grip though -- the officer, for one, is stronger than he is, and even if he were to break free, they, of course, know exactly who he is. Better to go along and humor their backwards operation and hope that’s better in the end for both of them. He can’t particularly hope for much more.
He’s being nearly dragged then, along with the other guy, to a nearby vehicle. The officers jostle them both into the backseat and the door locks behind them. Jinhwan grimaces and hesitates for a moment before turning to the other.
He can hear the cops joke loudly outside the car.
“I’m really… I’m so sorry,” he says, voice lowered, but a note of helplessness is there somewhere even though he tries to hide it. “I don’t know why they’re doing this -- what this is exactly either --” He glances away and laughs noiselessly. “I’ll just… try to give them whatever they want from me, and get you out.”
That’s all he can do in a situation like this. Especially when he can feel his cheeks itching, skin prickling all along his neck, and knows that experimental defeathering potion is reacting poorly to his emotions. (Or something -- but of course his feathery bits decide to be finicky now of all times. He tugs his hood further forward and shoves his hands into his pockets.)
whine and dine
seokjin.
“A dull evening? Any evening without me in it becomes a dull one, doesn’t it?” Seokjin asks as they walk to their seats, but he’s already laughing at his own comment like it’s the funniest thing that anyone has ever heard. Ever. Then again, Seokjin’s humor consists of cockiness paired with old puns and outdated memes. He figures that laughs that are based on pity are still laughs at the end of the day.
“Oh yes, us with alcohol. Very responsible. So responsible and adultish, almost like paying taxes or crying over the water bill,” he teases in return, taking his seat across from Jinhwan and being extra careful that his feet don’t cross into the other’s foot space. How odd would it be if they started to accidentally play footsie beneath the table?
Well. It’d probably end up with all out war, and red wine everywhere (which is the ‘fake blood’ of the battle of course). It sounds fun but Seokjin’s wallet says no to that idea really quickly.
“Darling, oh darling,” Seokjin says, trying to stifle his laughter, but it shows in how puffed up his cheeks are, and how his eyes crinkle right into his face. “Pfft- It’s the usual. My son crashed his Mercedes into a tree, but it’s okay, daddy will just buy him a new one,” Seokjin pretends to tuck some hair behind his ear, but ends up laughing, somewhat obnoxiously, onto the table, where he’s folded over and slapping his own knee like a damn seal.
It takes a few moments to get the giggles out.
Okay, it takes like maybe two whole minutes.
“I miss messing around like this. We’re obnoxious!” Seokjin says, fighting through the last bit of giggles that remain in his chest. “I’ve been okay, I guess. Just lots of boring days? It’s getting too routine. I just hate it,” Seokjin sighs, but his smile is at least fond. He sips his wine and scrunches his nose, looking into the glass. “You know. I don’t even like wine as much as I like cheap alcohol. But anyways. How have you been? It’s like you dropped off the planet for a while.”
Seokjin’s fit of giggles triggers the one Jinhwan suppressed — his forehead wrinkles intensely, nose scrunched and cheeks smushed in a lopsided grin that permeates his whole face, half giggling and snickering at his friend nearly folded over in contagious laughter.
“Such a generous father…” he adds, wiping away a fake tear from being touched (which might be a real tear of mirth), and takes a swig of his wine, probably not properly tasting it at all. He tilts his head toward Seokjin, listening and nodding sympathetically. “At least we can do this sort of thing sometimes, huh?” he smiles back. “Next time we can just do shitty beer at my place if you’re down for some bad soaps.” The next question makes him sigh, however.
“Ah, I get caught up in work so much, you know?” He rubs his neck. “It’s hard running your own business when you’re supplying it too… I really need to take on part time workers but I’m not sure I can pay them adequately right now, you know?”
Jinhwan lets out a longer sigh and grabs a bottle at random, filling his glass up more than the testing amount and stuffing a piece of cheese of in his mouth. “Maybe I sh’ld take on ‘n apprentice or somethin’,” he says with his mouth full, washing it down with a little more alcohol. “But — ugh, that makes me feel so old. Please tell me I’m not old, Jinnie. I’m still a young, totally sexy entrepreneur, right? ...Wait. No. Don’t answer that.”
He stops, and raises an eyebrow belatedly. “Actually, that cheese was pretty good. You’d think they’d label these, wouldn’t you?” He isn’t actually watching how much he’s drinking… Eh, but it’s wine, right? It’s not like he can get that tipsy on it. At the same time, however… he can’t exactly remember the last time he did go out and drink… probably an event that also screamed “networking.” Huh. Can he even remember when that was last? And he’s not even in his thirties yet. Jinhwan goes quiet as he stares into the cheeses for a moment. Certainly not a bit of a tipsy train of thought, that.
Agent Double-Oh-Wolf
dongwoo.
He thinks he’s clever. No, he thinks he’s James Bond.
Dongwoo browses the collection of potion bottles and stoppers to avoid suspicion, so dedicated to his mission that he even asks the shopkeeper for help. “Do you have anything for calming a werewolf’s senses? But without making them drool and gnaw on stuff like werenip does, yeah?”
He hardly acknowledges the shopkeeper’s words because he’s too focused on mentally rehearsing his backstory. Not only did he craft a false identity, but numerous allergies to make scrutinizing ingredients lists seem less suspicious. He mentions the false allergies in passing and when left alone to a collection of potions, hurries to work.
The werewolf slips a pencil, sharpened down to a mere three inches and riddled with bite marks, down his hoodie sleeve. Then with his free hand, he fishes a crumpled piece of scrap paper out of his pocket. He not-too-subtly glances over his shoulder to check on the shopkeeper and when the man looks away, he scribbles down the ingredients listed on the potion bottles.
His dedication would be admirable if his mission weren’t so unnecessarily complicated. He would’ve had better luck snapping a photograph with his cellphone – hell, uploading it to snapchat for an extra measure – and booking it out of the building.
But, this is Dongwoo. And he wants his James Bond moment.
Jinhwan’s used to customers with unusual needs. He’s used to customers that come into his shop completely lost, those who have trouble expressing exactly what it is they need taken care of, embarrassed or too shy or afraid to say it aloud. And then there’s customers he’s never seen who aren’t at all phased by his merchandise. The ones of those whose attire doesn’t already scream “witch” are a bit more rare. His interest is piqued, just a bit.
“Well, certainly we’ll have something like that in our anti-transformatives section,” Jinhwan smiles genially, pointing to the smaller wall section of potions relevant. The customer seems a bit out of it, so Jinhwan walks with him to the section and more closely gestures to the ones he will most likely want for sensory reduction. A little harder to make these more generalist potions, but Jinhwan’s certainly gotten them working quite well, using them himself at times when animal senses linger too long (though there are ones, of course, more specifically engineered for this young man’s needs).
“Ah, allergies, huh? I’m… not sure that…” Jinhwan starts, but trails off, unsure of how to address the fact he’s not sure allergies ever come up in alchemy… he supposes negative reactions per species might count -- but it seems the customer wants to peruse on his own, waiting for Jinhwan to leave. No matter -- he supposes the ingredients on the side might be useful for that as well as their intended use of warning the imbiber what not to mix with them. Jinhwan moves back to help another customer who had been browsing a while, and is promptly distracted by a custom order for a moment or two.
As he’s waving the customer out the door, self-satisfied, Jinhwan feels a pair of eyes on him. It’s the (presumably) were who asked about the potions, still hovering over that section. Why are his eyes so shifty?
He looks down and fiddles with his phone, glancing up out of the corner of his eye curiously. Whatever is he hunched over like that for? Jinhwan doesn’t like to suspect customers of anything but… at the very least he should go over and check on the were. He’s been hovering over there an awful while.
Apron pulled straight, hands held behind his back, Jinhwan approaches the shelving with a smile, but his expression quickly furrows into something more confused -- and then exasperated. It has to be one of those fools again -- he’s copying down the labeling from the side, isn’t he? Why does Jinhwan always get these types in his shop? He walks closer, and his presence doesn’t seem to be noted from how the were (or is he) is still furtively scribbling.
“Dear, I really hope you’re not taking that as a full list of ingredients. I cannot be held liable if you plan on poisoning yourself.” It’s always a bit insulting that someone might take a list like that as a recipe.... but he also figures with types like these, it’s almost certainly a sign of desperation. He pauses.
“...Exactly... how desperate are you now?”
🜨 => braggart
himchan.
Himchan notices that Jinhwan appears to be rather perplexed. Whether it was his presence or an unrelated matter, he does not know. He decides on the latter, though.
“Is it my personality then?” He gasps, clutching a hand to his chest. “I have to say, I am a cool dude to hang out with. I am sure your customers would agree if they got to chill with me.” Being friendly was one of his prized traits, after all, and he would not accept that some people disliked him, even if they truly did.
The irritation coming off of Jinhwan is almost unmistakably because of him, though. He knows it now. He can almost smell it. Slowly, he brings a hand to his mouth, teeth beginning to chew his nails out of habit – oh, and he was nervous. Maybe today had not been the best day to visit Jinhwan. Usually, he would enjoy getting underneath Jinhwan’s skin, but something has him on edge – something has his guts twisting. Is it because of the feathers?
“I thought I should greet you first before I spend hours looking through everything.” He adds a small laugh at the end, trying to salvage the situation. At the question, though, a real smile comes onto his lips. “Oh, I don’t know.” Himchan’s free hand reaches over to Jinhwan’s face, taking an iridescent feather between his index finger and thumb. “Maybe this gave you away.” With a feather in between his fingers, he admires it closer. Jinhwan or not, he has to admit, the feathers are a pretty addition. “I know of someone else who has issues with keeping their animal side under wraps, too..” He mumbles, eyes lifting back to Jinhwan.
The question alarms him, and Himchan is uncertain how to respond. Was his friend really a were this whole time? Himchan feels his heart start to beat hard against his chest, and a cold sweat breaking out over his skin. “I-I am sorry, Jinhwan. I would never judge you if you were a were, you know?” His gaze is unable to meet Jinhwan’s. Brown irises, instead, focus on the counter. “I didn’t mean to treat you like a joke or be insensitive about the matter. I was so blunt because, well..” Himchan trails off, voice lowering into a whisper. “I mean, I am not a bird, mind you, but a wolf.”
It had never been his intention to tell Jinhwan today. He doesn’t even know if this was something he would have ever told Jinhwan. However, he wants to support his friend, and if that means revealing himself, so be it.
Jinhwan stares blankly at Himchan for a moment. He’s having trouble switching gears from nearly scolding Himchan for touching his feathers, his brain slow to process what seems to be a confession of some kind. He’s completely caught off guard.
“You’ve… got to be--” Jinhwan starts, but trails off. Himchan has no idea about him, right? He didn’t know Jinhwan was a witch before and seems to have somehow missed that now to the point Himchan’s actually flustering over this? -- He was actually serious?
But Himchan? a were? Is that what he’s saying? Well, shit.
“Shit...You are serious.” It’s a statement of fact, voice quiet as his eyes focus, and he stares at Himchan unblinkingly. Jinhwan is truly flabbergasted. Himchan’s a were — a werewolf — and he thinks Jinhwan’s a werebird. That’s literally what’s happening here.
He opens his mouth, and closes it, glancing down at the counter and trying to figure out a way to deal with this situation elegantly. He’s not so sure there’s an easy way to soften the truth when Himchan’s unwittingly (mistakenly) outed himself like this. “One moment,” he mumbles. He walks around the counter cautiously and flips a sign on the entrance door over to indicate the shop is closed; he’d hate for someone to waltz into this conversation. Sighing, he plops back down, this time on top of the counter and crosses his legs, apron draping over them.
“Himchan… Himchan, I don’t…” he starts again, and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. The unfortunate point he needs to convey is bad enough without him cringing physically too. “I’ve told you about my shop, haven’t I? Sure, I might have left out a few details but I still make—“ he waves his hand at his merchandise “—all this myself, minus the rather showy display case in the corner -- Minhee keeps outdoing herself…” he adds, mumbling. He hooks a claw under his shirt and draws forth a patinaed little charm, playing with it. He can’t quite look at his friend in front of him, cursing how this situation has managed to become even more awkward than he thought it would be before, back when Himchan first said he was on his way.
“I get all kinds in here--humans, beastblooded, weres--so I see no point in trying to hide what I am. I like my customers to feel I’m like them. But... I’m not a were, Himchan. I’m... sorry.”
