modus

need control / need it now

[msujae]

hi hello just got off work so i’m really really tired but thank u for the warm welcomes! this is my rockstar wannabe nam jae and i can’t wait to write with you all (: summary below like to plot or dm me blah blah blah letsgeddit

only son to 2 accountants that work at a branch of a conglomerate wizarding bank in seattle. pureblood but who really cares in this day and age lol 

went to ilvermorny and was under the thunderbird house...sect...thing

pretty ordinary and loving upbringing, he just had other dreams floating around in his head that didn’t involve boring ass math 

after begging and whining he finally gets shipped off to a family friend’s place one summer to learn guitar

falls in love, and it’s been history since! the ambition only becomes more unshakeable the older he gets: rock it out and make the big bucks or be a broke starving artist. doesn’t matter which it should be tho he would much prefer the first

despite being magically inclined this is a very non-magical pursuit and his parents are at a loss and still are? stuck at the bargaining / depression stage of the grieving cycle because what the fuck this is NOT what they raised him for

otherwise yeah he’s pretty much set in stone as to where he wants to go and will graduate eventuall...y...

main piece is his bass, followed by rhythm guitar, piccolo, and piano 

outside of his major classes, he’s perfectly content doing average elsewhere

in some npc underground rock band probably for now 

is playfully rude a lot of the time, extra purposeful if he actually doesn’t like you

doesn’t really care to project strong opinions on the rest of the population because who tf has the time!!

otherwise marches to the beat of his own drum and is pretty chill, albeit getting carried away once in a while if it’s something he’s set his mind to

looking for: plots. of all kinds! i’m running out of steam here so if u would like to brainstorm or already have an idea in mind lmk

[fytheboyz]

[msujae]

msuinori​

observing the sports teams of mokseong has become a habit by now.  not out of interest for the sport she decides to watch once in a while;  it’s more of an inspirational thing,  a source of motivation and new material to use for her up and coming short manga story.  people are suckers for this genre ever since the volleyball and swimming manga became a huge hit worldwide.

today’s choice for observation is basketball.  looks pretty plain,  she thinks as she sits at the sidelines,  rests her chin upon a dainty palm.  a certain player catches her eye,  has her brows furrow in immediate worry.  he hurt himself,  she notes,  doesn’t hesitate to exit the gym when she sees @msujae​ leaving to,  what she presumes,  the infirmary.  “hey!  hey, you!”  she calls out to the boy whose name she doesn’t know,  yet,  hopes to not weird him out with her sudden approach.  

breath is expelled from her lungs when the junior prefect finally catches up on him,  smile in her voice regardless of her exhausted expression.  running has never been her forte.  “i saw you hurt your finger and hey,  no need to walk all the way to the hospital wing.  i’m a nurse,  i can take care of it.”  

he's not new to downplaying the obvious and concerning,  but a jammed finger is a jammed finger and that doesn't even stop him from wincing and dropping the ball. thank god it's just drills, but there's concern spread across the teammates' faces who'd managed to see it firsthand. "relax, it's—" he attempts to wiggle, only it's easier said than done. maybe it's not so great after all.  

"i'll go get a fix for this." 

and off he goes, unaware of the second set of eyes that follow him out. stays as such until there’s a voice that cuts through from behind. it’s enough for him to stop and turn on his heel, puzzled. 

“uh...hey,” do i know you? is heard somewhere between the flash of teeth and the slight quirk of his brow. then the second half comes through and he’s even more confused. 

“a nurse?” jae peers down at her, a brief once-over, the other looking every bit more of a fellow student than actual staff. “since when?” 

[msujae]

track one @msumiyoung

it's a hidden gem of a spot. given mokseong's sheer size, there's bound to be many of those, but this one's acoustics are a force to be reckoned with. when the enclosure of his room doesn't suffice and he needs to test out the sound of a work in progress in real time, jae grabs his bass and sheet music and heads down. 

by now, it’s practically routine—the last of his classes coming to a close by three, and off he goes, down the corridor, one floor then two, and right through the open entrance of the room. 

he stops in his steps when the sight of a second figure catches his eye. huh. she turns, and there’s a flicker of vague recognition. something along the lines of all-grrrl crosses his mind, and it’s enough to initiate breaking the ice. 

“bet you weren’t expecting an audience.” the drawl of his voice holds the intention of it being nothing more but a friendly joke. he puts down his guitar case on the floor. “thought only i knew about this place, but i guess not.” 

[msujae]

msubitna​

fact: things might have been a different had she not, you know, exploded? or maybe exploded is putting it a smidge too crudely. she’d like to believe she was a little bit (a little bit! only a little bit!) graceful about everything—but she knows the truth. if she did things different back then—if she sucked up the more turbulent of her emotions and asked a genuine question instead of hurling a scathing accusation, well? maybe things might have been different.

fallacy: she doesn’t care. not anymore. it’s in the past after all, and bitna’s much too focused—doggedly, even—on the future to dwell on the past. heartbreak isn’t in her dictionary and if it’s because she’s forcibly erased it, well! that’s not her problem. what’s done is done, what’s gone is gone, what’s over is over. 

fact: closure would be good for her.

fallacy: but she doesn’t need it! at least, not today! not tomorrow! not even yesterday! she’s over it! and the only good a conversation would be in this day and age is if it gave her answers, not so bitna could sleep at night (she sleeps perfectly well, thank you very much!) but maybe so she could finish her manuscript and get it out of her way and off of her shoulders once and for all. 

fact: her editor thinks a love story’s wasted if the ending doesn’t tie things up with a ribbon. shouldn’t the romantic interest and the protagonist make amends? isn’t that what a normal love story ought to be?

fallacy: she’s not ruining this fictitious happy ending for selfish reasons, really. it’s just—it’s just, well… 

“i can go alone, right?” she asks groundskeeper lee, eyes bright as she gazes upon the space where she thinks the thestrals ought to be. she doesn’t get an answer—at least, not a clear one—before she clambers into the carriage, about to chirp out a cheerful thank you! when she realizes that: 1) she isn’t alone, after all, and 2) no no no NO NO!

fallacy: she’s so remarkably good at the fickle art of evasion that she doesn’t have the time to think about people who don’t even have to be ghosts to haunt her. 

fact: that’s a lie.

instinctively, the second she sees jae’s face, bitna reaches for a carriage door that’s already clattered to a close. “wait, hold on—” she starts, desperately, her knuckles rapping against the window to no avail when the carriage starts with a jolt. just barely managing to catch herself, the expression on bitna’s face darkens and she fixes her gaze on a loose thread in the upholstery. “don’t talk to me.” 

fact: a big, fat, stinking lie. 

any second now, and his party of one will stay as so. there's no hard feelings here, just the tick of the clock until the carriage finally gets a move on for the night.  expectations have no place here, idle time turning to unspent chump change in the flat of his palm. jae looks out his side window, then leans his head against the sigh against the padding. if his fingers twitching is any sort of indication, just wait for it—three, two, and there you have it. out comes out the phone, and he caves into habit.  

a quick back-forth of texts has him second-guessing going forward with this ride at all. no harm in spending the rest of his night elsewhere a little earlier than planned. with half of a mind to do as such, jae turns in his seat, motions in mind to slide out, and then the face that pops through the carriage doors has him go blank.

bitna slides into the seat oh-so-oblivious without so much as a glance and with a word of thanks, and all he can do is stare and stare and stare, stunned silent. the number of people who have seen emotion this vivid across his face sits second to none, the spot held by none other than—of course. 

eye meets unsuspecting eye, and all he can manage to think is:  halloween is not the holiday of choice for this. 

like clockwork, she turns to make her escape like she’s done the hundreds, thousands of times before he can so much as let out a peep, only this time, against all odds, the attempt is thwarted. the door closes with a metal whine, and the carriage groans into motion. 

don’t talk to me. 

as if to follow suit, his line of sight roves deliberately to the space above her head, then back to the defiant tilt of her face. in spite of the sore spot that’s always lingered, the history that has long ran its course, jae’s second thought is pretty. 

against better judgement, his expression relaxes into an easy grin, tease on the tip of his tongue. “i’ll talk to your window then.” 

[msujae]

frío @msufriday

the evening slows considerably, post-peak of the party reaching comedown. the music follows in tandem to account for the lull in the room. jae crinkles his nose at his surroundings, decides to call it time. considering it’ll be better spent elsewhere, well. 

he moves through the throng of loose, glitter-soaked bodies, eye on the nearest exit through the plumes of thin purple smoke. an easy out. or what should’ve been. the body that suddenly runs into him is enough to throw him off-focus, other hand up to steady the weight. “bathroom’s that way,” he begins in a playful lilt, but she raises her head and any unsuspecting cheer dies on the tip of his tongue in an instant. 

“oh.” 

is that all there is to say? had he been more eloquent, kinder, the possibilities might’ve been worth something. but all there is is this stale air and that clawing feeling of discomfort that comes with this breach in distance. 

christ. 

[msujae]

msuxhimari​

stephanie had grown to enjoy basketball in her time in mokseong. truthfully she’s never engaged in the sport on a serious level until coming to school here. she was surprised that she even made it on the team (although a part of her has a sneaking suspicion why she made it in the first place). the sport had been growing on her and she’s coming to be pretty decent at it.

until she reached the point where she was deserving of her spot, she’d keep practising longer and harder. first to arrive and last to go hit the showers. that was the only way she’d catch up to the people who have either been doing this for year or have been training for this exact team. she couldn’t be benched for the first games forever.

“you’re here early,” she says to jae whom she knew from her days at ilvermorny. he was a chill kid. he mostly minded his own business (thank god) and in her time finally in mokseong, he didn’t really have a lot of questions for her. not like everyone else. it put her at ease whenever he was around. at least she didn’t need to launch in her life story to explain what she’s been up to. he just took it as her being back now. “you down to shoot some layups?”

not a stickler for routine, and most likely never will be, but who ever said he was here for the discipline? upstairs in his dorm room, the bass stays on its stand, untouched. a first in weeks, but it’s a much-earned break. 

being half an hour early grants him the free reign, the empty expanse of the gym floor all for him to call his own for the meantime. stepping out of the locker rooms, jae’s ready for this to be a solo effort until he finds he’s been beat to the chase. 

a cocked brow in lieu of a greeting, on the cusp of the usual exchange. “quidditch practice is elsewhere, steph.” a nod to the past, and not to the one that most think to the second her name’s brought up. people grow up, and the rumor mill keeps a-whirring. big whoop. 

jae cranes his neck in a stretch, then his arms, before dropping the ball into a dribble. one hand, then another, before he passes it into her open palms. “but since you’re willing—” 

[msujae]

msuwendy​

EVERYTHING HAS AN EXPIRATION DATE. namely, for wednesday, whose good graces had only been prolonged by a substantial amount of sweets and booze, was starting to wear thin as hours past (and the dj switched sets to something more beat heavy, so much so it reverberates from vertebrae to vertebrae, shaking up her insides and leaving her, somewhat unsettled, teetering antsy). now, now she’s thinking of turning in—before something rolls along to shit on the one good night she’s had in a hot minute.

                                       which, mind you, something always does.

                                                                                  AND?! right on cue! her phone rings. 

fucking perfect. her eyes squint at the caller id: 😑dad😑 and scowls. of course. somehow he is always calling at the most inopportune moments. and somewhat predictable of her, she doesn’t bother to pick up, simply chugging the rest of the drink her hand—minus one last gulp for future use. 

                                                 future use? yeah, just watch.

it takes a couple more calls, all screened, before she can pick out a foreboding figure approaching from the crowd, phone pressed to his ear and nonchalance on sharp features. instantaneously is the prickle of irritation, tiny hairs on the back of her neck bristling at the mere sight alone. wednesday is fully aware of what to expect here. it’s routine. written into code. so is the fated interactions between wednesday seon and dad’s favorite lapdog. the same as when they were kids and ultimately, the same now. so forth and so on. 

only this stupid mother fucker happens to get more and more good looking every year. stupid lame-freddie-mercury-costume ass fucker. her eyes narrow further when he was closer into view, hand lifting to fill her mouth with leftover beer. stupid hooked nose looking jackass. three steps away. stupid! two steps. don’t you dare come closer. one.

here, her lips pucker, shooting out a jet of liquid that lands square on his white shirt. about as good of a warning shot as anything. (also, immature as fuck, she knows, whatever!) but wednesday has a feeling he doesn’t give a fuck either. 

                                              “i DON’T want to fucking hear it.” 

not sure there’d be a college anywhere else that’d stick to cream soda on the menu and call it a day, but mokseong seems to have a penchant for firsts of that kind. no alcohol served and prefects as shoe-ins for chaperones? might as well be a mic tap away from being a catholic school dance.

kidding. the setlist makes up for it. chopped and screwed witchhouse shifts to manic, pulsing edm at the flip of a switch, and he almost, almost gets swept up into it when—

“hey.” his phone’s only on vibrate for one, sole reason. 

jae cradles it between the shrug of his shoulder and the shell of his ear. “yeah. yeah. hold on.” the call ends in an instant.

his eyes flit through the purple haze of the room, strobe lights, and every other silhouette in motion, systematic: nope, nope, nope, bingo.

with unmatched ease, he parts through the crowd to make his way towards an unmistakable figure. every scream-kick-insult-chihuahua bark in and out the door over the years has only strengthened his tolerance. so when jae sees wendy “hump day” seon’s eyes thin into slits, he feels absolutely nothing. no fear, no hesitation. only the resolve to do as told.

being prepared means nothing without perfect timing. for now, he’s got both: the phone held up, camera rolling at the exact moment she aims and shoots in a fountain stream, mouth puckered like a fish. 

in the most possibly deadpanned voice ever: “wooow.” 

he stares down at his front then back up at her through the lens. “nice shot, garden hose.” the video’s saved with a tap, slowed by an extra 0.5 for the comedic effect, then sent off. 

to: bruce seon 🤘

[blowfish_wendy.vid] haha she’s having a blast

[jjyubi]

[lmolm]

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