𝑹𝑨𝑴𝑷𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳.

your guilt will be your past, and that will be your god.

[mmryeon]

fineshrine

@mmharam: “what is it? you look like you have something to request.”

she’s bold. or, maybe, just foolish. foolishly in love is correct. though, ryeon supposes the surge of courage has to come from somewhere. the most obvious being a sly peek of something more. tease of light seeping through the cracks of what was formerly assumed to be an iron fortress. and that, itself, was enough to keep her going.

giddy. greedily. in her approach to lee haram. drinks in the sun in his eyes, warmth peering through the windows, dancing off his skin. marveling, at least, for the briefest of moments, in that his lips part, speaks, directs at her. attention she soaks up far too eagerly. 

ah, you’re so obvious, ryeon.

“oh?” ruby lips part, puckering slightly in thought. or surprise. or whatever. that’s the default with her anyway 😗. it diffuses rather quickly, parts way for a hint of teeth, winning smile and all. visibly pleased and she’s sure he knows it. good. 

“i was gonna go pick up some new books and i was wondering if you wanted to come with..” trails off for a quiet beat, having forgotten the points she’d formerly gone over in her head to convince him to come with. what was it? food? sights? grand ol’ time together with her on a date? oh, stop looking at his lips, you. “th—the um, book. we talked about last time. the—uh—the philosophy of the mundane: why the muggles prefer not to know.” ryeon grins. 

“it’s in stock! we can go together if you want, it’s not too far.” they can take the floo network. convenience of magic and all. “s’just a quick trip to london!” 

[mmharam-blog]

haram rarely reaches the pinnacle of his emotions. this doesn't necessarily mean that he is incapable of feeling, rather that he fails to tie a string to anyone else's level of sentiments. in the grand scheme of his life– his primary colors of joy, anticipation, and disappointment are all self-sustained without anyone else taking a part in them. to take a look on the flip-side, ryeon's palette is much more colorful. not many hurt colors, more so on the side of rosy without ignoring the hue of soil beneath it all. haram catches how her eyes drawl on his cheek, his lips, then back to what she has to say to prevent his usual sprint through the world. free spirited, but not disoriented. candid with the way she translates her ardor for him into words and actions. she eyedrops her own undertones onto his, allowing him to appreciate the mixtures of what he can also see and relate with shared feelings.

fair enough.

"new books?" he has a smidgen of an idea as to why he doesn't mind her tugs at his attention, but he tucks away the hypothesis for a later time. perhaps when everything's a little more opaque. "–sure." she easily catches his attention, his brow arching as he reels their past table talk about philosophy and books on the topic. there is something distinct with the way she chimes, hard to ignore and appeasing. he locks a smile when she prompts, and now his turn to stare at how her lips purse, then widen as he gives her further elbow room around him.

"i've been meaning to take a look at the new releases, too." with a gentle tap on her shoulder, he prods her on leading their way. “let’s go?”

[mmserin]

rose-colored

written for @mmharam

it isn’t often she runs into lee haram. sure. they’re friends (arguably. as in, who’s going to say no if she insists?). but there isn’t a single law in the world that required friends to constantly be in contact. else, she would’ve been jailed for slipping off the face of the earth last year. not the point. the point stands that there is no need out there to constantly be in contact. 

or, in haram’s case, the need to be particularly friendly. serin doesn’t mind. seldom minds. she’s busy herself. has friends herself. and, end of the day, would be used to being by her lonesome.

but what she’s come to learn about him is not equal to what she’s willing to accept. maybe in passing, where greetings are brief and sweet, acknowledgment of each other’s existence. not here or now. where she spots him, crouched in front of the student council office. curiouser and curiouser. 

up to no good, she presumes.

a rare case of mischievousness strikes here. fills her chest with a giddy glee as she makes her way over, footsteps deliberately light and slow to catch him off guard. serin doesn’t even dare breath till she’s behind him, resting one hand on his shoulder and the other on his head (immediately ruffling). 

“lee haram!” she grins. “what are you doing? something perverted?”

[mmharam-blog]

ever and again, haram jumps in the field onsite for drops of any unshapely feelings. let that be envy, spite, pride, whatever’s ugly and imperfect– they all lead to another or all at the end of the story, anyway. he’s hansel in this particular afternoon, trailing the hushed telltales from a group of three. the beaten track leads him down the hallway, then to the student council room by the end of it.

a confederacy masked by invisible leagues. a classic, and you know you can’t go wrong with a classic.

or, well, if you can even hear anything from the live stage-show, that is. with the corridor warmed over by slants of early sunset’s streaks of coral-yellow, haram crouches by the edge of shadows to peer over. the crevice of the door seeps in the drowned voices all too well, making it hard for him to lay hold of chinks in anyone’s armor. it has him leaning just a bit closer, eyeshot with his nose just a centimeter away from the door knob. hey, you hear something?

haram definitely doesn’t.

“hey, whoa, wait–”

hyper-focused on catching any broad hints from behind the wall, he lets that be his excuse as he almost topples over face-flat onto the door. he saves himself with a palm to the floor, a brief wobble of his legs being the end of the suspense. even serin’s (usually) unsubtle tip-toes have been blocked-out in the last brief seconds, giving her a margin wider than usual around his space. has he been thrown for a loop? close. haram takes a quick heave between his parted lips, brows neatly furrowed. his immediate task? writing up a manual on how-to-deal-with-serin.

“...noona.” he crumples his face just a bit, smile faint and weary. “mastered the art of walking on toes? and no, i’m afraid i’m not you.”

[mmharam-blog]

harammm 🥺are you busy

there is hardly ever an occasion where haram spares his precious time to loiter around with people who aren’t, one: worth tapping on their cracks of flaws, or two: those who are predictably unwary. seldom times he revels in harin’s catty remarks thrown at his (arguably friendly) tantalizing, but the distance with anyone and everyone is always a wall apart: him as the inciter, and his pawns as the sitting targets on his pre-drawn map.

ryeon, however, strays off his board and points to question his footing. haram isn’t used to the chase, nor those who challenge his philosophy. anyone who even thought about stepping in his carelessly drawn boundary, at that. he’s been vigilant of all but the milestone of someone prying open what’s marked as ‘danger: do not enter,’ because most people know that it’s not the safest venture to stand by the ledge of things that haunt them. after years of her challenging his doctrines on the idea of affliction, he blinks and sees his role description now scribbled in a blurry haze.

he’s confused as to why he almost finds that remedying.

“i suppose i always can be.” he replies after a comfortable amount of delay, running through his mental list of tasks. ryeon stands before him with her starry eyes, and haram quirks a brow at her incessant blinks with words unsaid. she’s always filled with avidity and unrequited rhapsodies wished upon him, out of all people. and for what? he always questions, then fails to find an appropriate answer in his conception. he doesn’t sideslip out of her approaches like he usually would with those who don’t belong in option one or two like mentioned above.

he doesn’t have the answer for the ‘why’ to that, either.

“what is it? you look like you have something to request.”

[mmserin]

feels like

cont from here. / written for: @mmharam

it’s not her fault. admittedly, about 64% of things claimed not to be her fault tend to be. but this is one of those scenarios where it genuinely isn’t. at least. not to serin. it wasn’t as if she went looking for trouble, though that was the norm—it certainly won’t ever be this kind of trouble. cornish pixies? practically devil’s spawn. 

but there’s nothing to be done about it if the professor wants her to take them elsewhere to rid of. it had only been nothing else but her own misfortune that one of them figured out how to open the cage. 

from there? a series of shrieks and crashes before she nose dives for her dropped wand. finishes it off with a quick immobulus! to freeze them in their tracks. easy peasy. but—remaining problem? a shift of her right leg brings a hiss to her lips. great.

luckily?ish? introducing today’s(?) white knight(?): lee haram.

but not really. she’s frowns at the chiding, mouth twisted with indignation that doesn’t reach her tongue when he moves instead. blinks in surprise at the sudden change in character. was he having an off day? “u-uh, thanks…”  it didn’t work. she knows it all too well, can tell just as easily from the swish of his wand to the continuous throb in her ankle (though slightly dulled). haram’s not a healer. serin is also nowhere near in the right to complain in this position.

instead she shifts to her feet, disregarding the way her knees shake when she slows to straighten, jaw slightly clenched. “i think it’ll be okay…” spoken true (to blind faith), but she doesn’t dare move it. “i’m supposed to set these free off campus so…” serin gestures vaguely to the pixies, frozen in midair. can’t exactly afford a trip to the infirmary can she? 

but she’ll chance haram’s sudden spur of goodness, hoping maybe he’ll find some pity in her. her fingers reach out to press into his elbow, nudging lightly, cheeks flush with an embarrassed, sheepish pink. 

“you have time, right ‘rams?” 

s’not a question. 

[mmharam-blog]

haram gives her a cursory shrug, lips pursed to the side as he gives her the look of ‘i tried.’ but the notable deed here is the sheer act of him pulling his wand out to help someone, regardless of his success or failure. ‘help.’ he hates the standardized terminology of words. most of them, actually. his hand isn’t there for forbearance. haram swats the definition away with the fact that serin isn’t exactly an ‘anyone’ like most. she’s not buttoned-down and afraid like others, quite the unorthodox. she’s so predictable and honest to a point where she gives no more leeway for him to pry and make vulnerable– because she already is. she sees the world through a kaleidoscope without blurring out the reality.

and quite honestly, haram has no idea how to categorize nor deal with someone like that.

“descendo.” picking himself up from the crouch, he drags the point of his wand downwards to trail the pixies back into the cage. it’s not exactly unlike serin to have been caught up in such a mess; not really in relevance to her skills as a witch, but in relevance to her character. he snorts out a hushed laughter as he puts her flustered look on a reel of imagination, all through the mild chaos that he unfortunately missed out on.

“collorportus.” with the cage now firmly sealed and pixies back to their rowdy squeaks, he glances back at her gentle prodding. time? all he lacks in his world is time. serin out of all people would know, though haram also knows that it’s a rhetorical question on her end. more like a timid appeal in a query, because she knows that he out of all people won’t carry sympathy around in his pocket. on the safe guess side of things, she’s exactly right. he crouches back down in front of her, his wand on his shoulder and in queue of his decision. today, however, he just might have a spare minute or two on his hands.

“what, are you asking me to carry you?”

[mmharam-blog]

mmchoa‌:

“don’t most men just want to get right on with business ?” she quips with more bravado than she feels. she had always been clever, it was one of her more attractive qualities, as she’s been told. all the while she speaks, choa toys with the edge of his shirt, a subtle hint that he’s wearing far too many clothes ( she just wanted a fuck, not idle chit chat ) “i’m simply appealing to your nature—” men were all the same: always more than happy to take, but god forbid they reciprocate and give in return “—isn’t that what you want ?” 

perhaps her attempt at teasing touches a nerve, or maybe he’s just a man that prefers to be in charge—but within the next breath their positions are changed. he hovers above her, the lines of their bodies pressed flush together, his hips cradled betwixt her thighs, her skirt bunched around her waist ( ah, this is what she wanted. the intimacy of not knowing where she ended and where someone else began ) she sees him clearly now that they’re this close, the haze of inebriation having muddled the edges of her vision ( he’s pretty; soft sloping cheeks, pillowy lips, foxlike eyes. he’s so unlike the others before him )  dainty fingers splay themselves upon his shoulders as she shifts beneath him, legs parting wider as an invitation as her hands slide down the expanse of his clothed chest, until she reaches the end of his shirt. fisting the material, she tugs it upward, exposing his flesh ( a step in the direction she wants them to go in ) 

“i’ve brought you here, haven’t i ?” there’s an edge of frustration and embarrassment in her voice as she answers his question, albeit indirectly. she’s done more than enough with how transparent she’s been with her intentions, of what she wants out of him. with her free hand, she curls her fingers into the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer until their lips touch again. she pours herself into that kiss, hoping to communicate her desperation and loneliness, her want for validation, her need to feel desired. it’s pitiful, the lengths she’ll go to temporarily fill the gaping void.  “i really, really would like to not have to repeat myself.”

“most men, i do agree.” his gaze sits on the hem of her skirt, more specifically on the way she fidgets along the line of it. impatient, perhaps bothered, most likely both. she’s not hard to read, her body language speaking for most of her mind rather than her words. “—not so much under that specific stereotype, but under our premise at the moment. no-brainer of a guess, really.” he references the distance between them, the close proximity of their lips. he’d achieve less than a laugh out of her if he were to say, ‘no, i’m only in it for the profound exchange of words. do you perhaps enjoy the philosophy of socrates?’ instead of going straight for the emotionless exchange of body warmth. 

what a great joke, with no irony added (he’ll save that line for next time.)

“yes, but also– but i do like the chase.” just the nature of us all. it’s a jab at her desperate pursuit, lukewarm smile drawn along the end of their rather one-sided kiss. nevermind the strokes, he’s more interested in the way she races– spilling her dignity and composure all over as she does. someone who lacks a false front, true to her desires and extremely vulnerable: the singularities he loves the most out of all and any other human traits.

“i can tell.” it’s self-moving, the way he drags down her skirt to grant her obvious wish. he’ll pry at her scab after he’s aided her in fixing up a makeshift fill-in for the void. only to have it fall apart again, but people run on a treadmill of mistakes. the same one, over and over. haram never gets sick of its continuum. will never.

“alright. i won’t make you say it again.”

he’ll ask for the payoff in words. later.

[mmharam-blog]

“if i go to hospital wing, i have to explain how i got it. i need to solve this with a spell.”

usually, haram likes things rampant. uncontrollable, unrestrained and left at raw. just like how people were born, just like how they are innately. but just for the clarification: he means people, not magical creatures.

“aren’t you too old to let the flies get to you? i mean… it’s sort of embarrassing, really.”

he’s looking at serin on the floor, her hair disheveled and almost a crow’s nest with what he assumes is from the pixies’ hair pullings and tricks. wherever the cries and screams are, haram goes. wherever rack and ruins are, haram goes. yet, he only scurried his way over and down the hall for this mess. or, simply serin (a mess herself,) with a sprained ankle.

it just had to be serin, didn’t it?

“you always talk about being the noona, and yet– everyday you seem to prove otherwise.” if it were any other people, haram would simply hand over the sympathy-ridden smile of his and walk past. however, serin here is a special case. if he threw his usual remarks of, ‘oh, i’m so sorry. i hope you get that patched up soon,’ or ‘failure is the mother of success!,’ he knows serin out of all people won’t just scoff it off, viewing him as a typical cheong ryeong kid like most.

he almost wishes she would. too much.

“episkey.” pulling out his wand, he crouches down to tepidly swing along her ankle. it would serve haram a side dish of an entertainment to see her at the hospital wing, explaining however she let the creatures free and ended up with the damage. yet, he passes on the opportunity to cancel out the consequences. whatever those may be. serin’s one of the only one he fails to predict, almost too transparent that her brain’s opaque when he tries to see through her.

“try getting up. if that didn’t fix it, then i’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

[jiminxh]

[sagamemes]

hogwarts au sentences.   let’s put those harry potter aus into good use. contains 40+ dialogue starters relating to hogwarts — some mention different houses and the occasional canon event, but a lot can be used by anybody. feel free to switch around pronouns, diction, and the like to make them more suitable for your muse’s mouth.

“ can you cast a patronus? ”

“ i saw muggle textbooks when i was visiting family for the holidays, and honestly? sure, i could maybe die falling off the stairs if i had a sleepwalking habit, but at least i’m not doing algebra right now. ”

“ do you think a dog animagi could have puppies? ”

“ how did you explain to your friends why you were switching schools? ”

“ sorry, all the other carriages are full, i’m sitting here whether you want it or not. ”

“ i wonder if there are people who can speak parseltongue but with like… bunnies. ”

“ i’m tired, and i want to go to bed, and i’ve been sitting here, trying to figure it out for like an hour, save me: what has a head but no body, but does have a tail? ”

“ what do threstals look like? ”

“ do you ever wash your cauldron? ”

“ trying to sneak into the forbidden section three times in a row is either the most badass or the most nerdy thing you’ve ever done. ”

“ if i go to hospital wing, i have to explain how i got it. i need to solve this with a spell. ”

“ no, i just never realised other people see the carriages being pulled by thin air. ”

“ when did you get the dark mark? ”

“ SOMEBODY CATCH MY TOAD! ”

“ mudblood. ”

“ who was the guy your boggart turned into? ”

“ where did you learn that? ”

“ sorry, but you couldn’t pay me to put my name in that thing. ”

“ do you still have that leaf in your mouth? ”

“ you’re the most injury-prone [quidditch position] i’ve ever met. ”

“ congratulations, head [boy/girl/pupil]. ”

“ imagine being a straight couple right now. ”

“ i’m going to have to fight my parents. ”

“ sorry, is this your owl/toad/cat? [they’re] beautiul. ”

“ do you think you could sneak to the astronomy tower with me tonight? ”

“ i actually haven’t asked anyone for the yule ball with me. ”

“ [name] got petrified, didn’t [they]? i’m sorry. ”

“ have you met the new DADA professor yet? how was it? ”

“ next time [name] pushes you again, i swear to god i’m hexing [their] arse. ”

“ i ate something and now my face is purple. i’m NOT coming out! ”

“ it’s vinegar. i knocked on the wrong barrel. ”

“ don’t look at me like that, i’m just trying to steal your body heat. it’s cold down here, okay? ”

“ how the hell can someone like you be in [house]? ”

“ come to think of it, i don’t think i’ve ever seen a ginger slytherin. ”

“ i didn’t even know i was afraid of heights before i came to this bloody school. ”

“ finding places to cuddle in would be a lot easier if we were at the same house. ”

“ are both of your parents muggles? ”

“ when you said you wanted to go to hogsmeade together with me, did you mean like… a date kind of ‘together’? ”

“ i wonder how many peole have banged in the room of requirements. ”

“ why must the plants sing? ”

“ sorry, you’re not getting the password from me. ”

“ have fun in potions. try not to punch anyone. ”

“ of course i’m fine. i mean, who wouldn’t want to be told they’re going to have a painful, grim death, on their first divination class? ”

“ are all [ravenclaws/gryffindors/slytherins] assholes, or is that just you? ”

“ dude, it was definitely two feet on vampires. how screwed are you? ”

“ how are we playing? classic or bavardian rules? ”

[xvsieun-blog]

love (wip)

[mmharam-blog]

mmharin‌:

[ ... ]

the logical sane of mind is sure. swears there is no chance in hell. remembers clear as day their first encounter. however many afterward. none of which left a particularly delectable taste in her mouth. so what was it now? that left a sickening saccharine at the tip of her tongue. has her heart thudding in her ears at the sound of his voice. lips slightly parted to inhale, head swarming with the rush of his scent. (all the while her mind beats, bellows, shakes. what the fuck was this?)

“do i?” she’s falling for it. caring too much all of a sudden. a sure sign of defeat in a losing battle. her hand lifts to touch her face, teeth sinking into her inner cheek quietly. undoubtedly there is a senses of ire here, lying dormant beneath a whole new characterization unlike her own. (none of this seems like her at all.) 

“i’m not,” not what? “surprised.” there you go. but there’s no bite. absolutely devastating. no hostility. no poise. even her body language seems shifted, no longer cold, unwelcoming. but  unguarded, lax in the way she unfurls before him, like petals to the sun. (why? why?) any and all methods of defense she’d perfected over the years gone. in its place a yearning. unexplainable as it is infuriating.

“are…you having fun?” not love. but she can’t help it anyway. fingers working to tuck her hair behind her ear, eyes lowering to his lips for the briefest of moments. parts flustered and horrified at the thought that crosses at that very moment. 

it’s a fucking joke, that’s what it is.  it’s gotta be. 

everyone has those switches in their head and mind, whether they’re under one’s awareness or their subconscious. the rule of thumb is, there is most always a spark plug that taps them on or off. hatred, sadness, anger, love— the list is endless. here, however, haram finds no reasoning behind her disposition on reverse. he watches her nosedive unfold, his head tipping to one side and then to the other as she goes on. one doesn’t even need to be on haram’s level of astuteness to gauge her general demeanor: mildly acerbic, generously cheeky. even she seems repulsed by how she’s acting. what she’s feeling.

even to haram, everything about her is far-out this evening.

“when none comes my way, i scavenge for one.” and so he did. his smile resembles a kid’s, one who has just found his newest trinket in his hands. a puzzle set with little to no clues. he takes note of the way she shys away from their usual eye-to-eye exchange of words, the way her fingers are lost with where to land. everyone has a different way of outputting their feeling of affection, but the general sentiment trickles out of the smallest of the details. and harin, at the moment, is spilling far too many of them for haram to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

“feeling under the influence? your face is beyond flushed, if you didn’t notice.”

his gaze is still everywhere, keenly taking in other students and alumni’s behaviors. there aren’t enough real evidences to back up his intuitive feeling in the bones, but it won’t take long before he does, as always. it’s just a matter of how long it takes, and harin’s already his perfect standing clue. 

“—and it’d be hilarious if it was because of me.”

[mmharam-blog]

the eyewitness. @mmyuanlan

these past few mornings, afternoons and sunsets– yosul has been more or less in a stalemate. not many ruts and cracks under everyone’s feet for haram to watch them trip and fall, the potholes being their everyday tug-of-war with what confines them.

surprisingly enough, haram finds diversion in this placidity itself.

it’s because no games jump from ‘start’ to ‘finish’ directly. it’s because there are tussles and detours, resets and the odds. the days’ dice happened to continuously roll to ‘1,’ and the pawns have only taken just that much step. it’s a slow churn: like the girl sitting in far right of the front row, gnawing on the tip of her nail as she looks at the boy by the presentation lectern in detest. careful whispers through the ears and hidden snickers. translucent labels on everyone’s back: team a, team b, team c, and so forth. unspoken tensions that root from the most rudimentary desires. recognition. validation.

in short, what haram is saying is—there are no turning points without a proper buildup.

“—and lastly, yuanlan and haram. everyone, pair up with your partners for the last 10 minutes of class to exchange contact information and project details.”

he’s in the far back row of the lecture room, where light rarely hits. yuanlan, somewhere in the foreground. just where he likes everyone to be.

(spotlights should and will always be on the lay figures, not him.)

“hey.” haram, having made his way to meet her mid-way, now hovers over her with a wave of his hands. “yuanlan, right? i don’t think we’ve talked before.” the boy’s a corpse without an intuitive mind and his set of perceptive eyes. he senses some sort of a catalyst with the way she eyes him– so he gives her a wide smile, harmless and from the heart. about damn time.

[mmchoa]

a little sympathy, i hope you can show me @mmharam

Keep reading

[mmharam-blog]

the idea of safe haven for most is, in haram’s outlook, a tightly knitted ball of lies.

concerns, doubts, and the most unnerving set of predicaments tend to push people to the corner. and well, then? they build a barrier. a small, noise-cancelling palisade that blurs out the most undesired truths. it’s not hard to notice the cracks in everyone’s glass bead: the one which holds their ideals, frightened by chips and imperfections. disappointments.

(it’s useless, i’m telling you.)

haram follows her out from the bar, to the lounge, then to her place. all with carefully mapped out predictions in his head. he takes note of how her eyes shake with uncertainty, mostly about her self-worth. a handful about bringing a nobody into her safe covert. a little about how much he really knows about her. she’s eager to fill something in her heart, the void that isn’t fulfilled unless she nurtures herself with physical contact. intimate ones, those touches that ultimately feed lies. 

haram finds her at the deepest pits of these cases.

“what are you in such a rush for?” he tips his head back, landing on the couch when she pushes. he lets her touches be, the hasty rush of her fingers pulling him in for the satisfaction of being recognized. she’s almost a ghost, with the way she’s slowly withering away with her opacity at its lowest saturation. 

a crack of his smile alone conveys most of what on his mind, yet most are blind to it. “wouldn’t it be quite the plot twist if i were to say no?” and for a moment, he mulls on the idea. the rush of humility and chagrin that will sweep across her face if he were to say the words that defy her attractiveness, whom society deems desirable. however, he pushes that for another time. there’s too much to uncover for what he’s taken an interest in already: the level of her confidence, the degree of her self-esteem. so far, he doesn’t see much of either.

his gaze trails to her pale set of hands, her withdrawn shirt now on the floor, then his own hand under her skirt. he only slides his hand just a little far up her skirt, letting his fingers trail before brushing away. pulling in by her waist, he shifts their positions: her now below him, him just a few inches above her, hand next to her head. he’s not one to chase intimacy, nor let things burn up too quickly. after all, what’s a game without the hike?

he speaks with his other hand now right above her heart.

“tell me. do you really want me to?”

[xvsieun-blog]

love (wip)

[mmharam-blog]

mmharin‌:

[ ... ]

so why. 

            why.

                   why.

                          why?

                                    …is this happening?

for context, we’ll go back. before this silly spiel—sad, drab spill of depressing ideology—and place it somewhere a bit more familiar. let’s say: the grand dining hall. main characters? boy and girl. girl? perched, back straight, posture impeccable. arguably a sight to behold if one were to disregard the pretty little frown on her lips. and boy? boy. well, let’s say—she hadn’t seen him seen him since the first bite of her tart. finds with pause (dread? dread.) the first skip in beat of many that comes with her direct line of vision to lee haram.

then—then? now? what?

then her eyes tear away, as if burned by the sight, cheeks gathering in flush with the steady rise of her heart. no way. no fucking way. since when? more white noise. she can’t recall. but the feeling itself is undeniable, how quickly it surges, pulsates throughout her being. how quickly she wants to run. stomach lurching in distaste. 

another glance over and it’s seemingly too late—lee haram is already en route. 

the thing about parties: greater crowds are less likely to be governable, less likely to be as still as a pond.

and that’s exactly what haram adores. deifies and loves.

it’s been a steady run of pink sangrias, chatters and spotted laughters since 6 o’clock, and the pendulum of the giant wall clock continues to chase through the numbers with its hands. haram, in this vast crowd of people still in the calm before the unknown storm, sits at the back of it all with an all-seeing gaze. his blinks snap the pictures to his mental archives: the details of lingering, fallen touches of those who are doused with infatuation for another. wide-eyed gazes searching for whatever that might bring the most terrific surprise this night. scorched desires and intentions that are all too transparent with the way that those guys are offering the group of girls a detestable amount of drinks.

(heavenly virtues, at the core, never exist. will never exist.)

and then?

the reeling gaze of lee harin across the hall.

this bad news is to many, not just the girl in his sight. haram will pick up the littlest of the abc’s, then put it together to form the word that will be the end of it all. as of now, the letters spell: atypical. note-worthy. perhaps even event-turning, scene-changing. totally worth prying.

“what’s the matter? you look like you’ve seen an apparition.”

he knows, but he wiretaps anyway. hands linked behind his back, he’s already made his way through the crowd and is now just three steps before her. his smile, ceaseless, leans to take a better look at the flushed tones of her cheeks, the way her eyes have widened then subdued past a turbulent wave of emotions.

huh. could it be?

“you can’t be that surprised to see me here, out of all people.”

[mmharam-blog]

the defender. / @mmhanbin​

by near-sunset, you spot our (arguably) favorite inciter in the potions laboratory. the day’s been relatively slower than most, but haram lets it be in the interim. standing by the exit with books in one arm, he waits for his project-partner as she empties the glass flasks by the sink. yisol, a seemingly well-groomed, well-behaved student in class with decent achievements if not almost-stellar. 

yisol, with a pensive smile and fingers that fidget through her steps towards haram.

i can’t believe she got an o on that project of hers. it’s a mix of envy, pride, and greed. she’s quick to open up to his friendly bearing, spilling this and that about the girl who aced her project earlier this afternoon. how she, compared to her, can do so much better if it weren’t for the professor’s blatant favoritism. the lopsided smile that creeps up on her lips as she goes on and on, blind to haram’s smile that double-crosses.

“and, are you jealous?”

his voice brims with hospitality, but his words obviously belong on the flip-side. yisol, flustered, quickly hits back with a huffy ‘no, of course not–,’ gesturing with her hands as she babbles just about the most unintelligible weave of words in her defense. 

“you’ve had the past five– no, six years to prove yourself.” pause, then he continues with a step towards her, fixing the book that’s coming to a fall in his arm. “have you thought about how if you could’ve done it, you already would’ve?” yisol steps back in her intuitive guard, recognizing nothing of haram’s prior demeanor in the way he pries.

has he always smiled like that?

“if you just accept that fact that yoorim’s been exceedingly better than you since birth, i promise it will be so, so much easier on you.”

and with that, to no one’s surprise, she cracks. her face flushed in mahogany, she breaks down with a muffled cry, his words crushing the walls that have been covering up the truth: the one she’s been oh-so-dreading for years. her heart’s probably in ashes by the time she strides out the door with a palm over her teary eyes, and to the readers’ silent boo, haram shouts a little above the level of inside-voices with his smile still intact. 

“–lies will only add to the buildup of your fall, yisol! think on it.”

with a soft grunt, he bends down to pick up the fallen notes from her binder before shaking off the dust. clumsy, clumsy. and by the time he steps out the door himself, he’s just a tad bit surprised to see the silent third person in the scene, semi-blocking his path. though, the curtains to the show have already come to a close.

act ii, anyone?

“well, hello– can i help you with something?”

[mmharam-blog]

oops!

@mmharin

[ hello, your package is ready for pick up at the front desk. please pick it up any day this week before 6PM.]

ow. he cracks his neck as he taps on the topmost notification on screen, and it almost feels disjointed with the way his head won’t turn back into its place. yikes. a package? he mulls as he makes his way out of the classroom and down to the first floor lobby. he’s sure it’s some sort of pocket knife he ordered some time last week, but not much goes through his mind regarding the box now in front of him. upon slitting the tape and opening the package, he’s faced with yet another box: pink and beige stripes with a vaguely familiar logo engraved in the center.

“huh.”

he’s pretty sure that victoria’s secret doesn’t carry an army swiss knife in their catalogue, but that alone doesn’t stop him from tipping the lid open, pulling out the article placed neatly inside. with the pink lace bra high and up in the air, he takes a moment to think: was i that hammered when i ordered something online last weekend?

upon glancing at the shipping label and the receiver, he taps his knee in full grip. ah. lee harin. lee haram. gotcha.

–––

“hi. harin, right?”

he tips and cracks his head back to the other side, finally. his expression brims with neighborliness and charm, and you’d think he’d drop some sort of, ‘sorry, the front desk mistook your package for mine,’ or ‘this must be yours, i apologize for opening it by mistake,’ but really– he’s the biggest anti-fan of predictability and the routine. so instead, he hits her with:

“here’s your, let’s see…” he glances down at the label, stifling a snort before continuing. “dream angels wicked… unlined push-up bra in rose.”

the whole hallway laughs, and haram does nothing but grace her with the most well-intentioned smile.

irony is key here.

[mmharam-blog]

yooo wassup guys this is dal & i’m here with my boy haram! thanks for the warm welcomes i’ve received already, i’m excited to write with everyone. haram is (arguably) an antagonistic figure, somewhat of a complex one because he claims to love everyone (in a rather twisted way 🤔) so he’s kind of a weird in between....... but he will at least guarantee your gals and boys some spice in their lives if not more so hmu if you’re in for a wild ride 👀

more about him and plot ideas are under the cut. it’s a little long, but i’ve bolded the most important stuff for you if you’re short on time.

hit the ❤️ & i’ll come through your dms to get those plots started!

TRIVIA.

– born under a maeobsa father and a pure blood mother. never really put much thought into his blood status/heredity because honestly?? it doesn’t mean much to him 😪

– interested in human nature and its unpredictability to an obsessive point where he basically spends most of his time to put people in an uncomfortable situation/turbulent state of mind, mostly to observe and think about the variables that might’ve stirred the situation in a different route

– more of an observer than an instigator. initiates conflicts as a third person. basically throws fuel into the fire before dipping to watch from afar 😒

– instead of cultivating his skills as a soon-to-be wizard or playing with kids his age at the playground, he spent his time people watching/observing to predict what’d happen next (conflicts, arguments, fist-fights– anything chaotic, you name it!)

– shrewd and moderately talented kid when it comes to magic, but has no drive in proving himself or anyone with magic in general. magic only is a tool for him to further mess around with humans and their unpredictable tendencies 💁🏻‍♀️✨

– most people don’t really see this nature of him coming unless you’re super duper keen and see through his fake-looking-ass smile (keyword: looking, because he honestly is just happy watching people all the time) with his friendly and frolicsome demeanor, he’s usually seen smiling and greeting people with an animated wave of hand because hey... he “loves” people :)

– likes any sports related to mind games or involving psychological analysis (chess, baduk, most physical sports)

– focusing on charms, transfigurations and potions. basically anything that will further aid him in bringing storm into people’s lives 😕

PLOTS.

1. you get on his nerve because you’re calm and collected no matter what. you’re perceptive and hyperaware of human nature and the fact that nothing will ever be 100% of hearts and flowers in life ( haram: that’s boring!!! why aren’t you bothered by the fact that we are all weak and ungrounded!! ☹️ )

2.  on the contrary, you’re someone who has self-doubts and lets it eat you up. you put on a front to hide certain weaknesses you hold and it shows. haram throws a bait, you take it, and who thought this charming little fella would fuck up your life, slowly but surely?? 😔

3. you see through him. though rare, if you’re keen and insightful enough you might see what he’s doing: putting everyone on his mental chessboard and manipulating them by throwing sparks here and there. conflicts happen wherever haram lands his feet and you know something’s wrong about this kid. and you’re right: something is most definitely wrong about this kid.

4. childhood friend, someone who is jaded or apathetic enough to not really care about haram’s antics and his mischief-causing ass. neither a supporter or someone in opposition to his philosophy, but just there simply because– well, it’d kind of fun to see the witty little things he do to cause chaos in the yosul community.

5. his biggest opposer. you believe in justice and peace, and you don’t understand why haram goes around to jab at people’s weaknesses and bruises to cause conflicts. haram is most definitely interested in you, because as someone who doesn’t believe in justice and equality– you’re his best interest.

6. while haram leans heavily on the side of aromantic, he doesn’t say no to one night stands or anything relationship-related out of... you guessed it, behavioral analysis!! so any kinda “flings” or “somes” because honestly it’s obvious that he wasn’t in it for genuine exchange of feelings, it was mostly for fun or for his sick entertainment 🙄you probably hate him, and he finds that hatred amusing (sicko!)

WHEW that was long but i’m definitely open to any kind of plots that you want for your muse, i’ll try my best to cook something up for haram and yours somehow! just lmk and we’ll write!!

[mmharam-blog]