𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄

lee hansol. xxv. intel: hacker.

[nshansol-blog]

moonlight melody.

tell them the body is a blade that sharpens by cutting, featuring @nsminjae.

underneath the fluorescent light cast down on his slouched posture pools a pint of confusion, dashed with the questions that he doesn’t know how to answer. the closest to any explanation to this can be inquired, for sure, but his mouth aches to stay quiet, with his jaws clamped shut. perhaps it’s the fact that it has nothing to do with what he’s currently doing — fuck, isn’t he a hacker? when will people stop treating him as if he was the emergency computer service staff— but with minjae, he somehow doesn’t mind. somehow, but he knows exactly as to why he doesn’t mind.

he’s hunched over the computer, ensuring that each component is working properly. it’s a whole routine, his hands moving at a considerably fast pace with his eyes scanning the screen for any debugging when necessary. but there’s essentially nothing wrong with this computer apart from the small error that he’s found in one program. something that could’ve been fixed easily, but upon minjae’s request, he’s been scouring through the entire computer trying to find any other erroneous parts. he is very certain, however, that none will be found. it’s just... an excuse, and hansol might be dense in terms of relationships but he’s not that dense.

when minjae enters the room again, hansol can feel a slight tension that causes him to stiffen a bit. it’s almost silly, but he cannot even deny that he is always a tad shy around the other intelligent. he can hear the footsteps coming closer after the door has been closed behind minjae’s back, and to try calming himself down, hansol repositions himself to sit. he tries appearing bored, or at least far from being phased. minjae’s drawing closer and closer to him, though, inevitably bothers him. his calm is faux as usual, and he maintains the façade quite well the way he typically would. “i’m almost done,” he starts the conversation when minjae is close enough, not looking at minjae since he knows it would make him feel awkward all over again.

[nshansol-blog]

interlude: want.

tell them the body is a blade that sharpens by cutting, featuring @nshajoon.

he’s not familiar with the concept of the training room at this hour, when the crepuscule is turned into nothing but slivers of morning lights. the quiet is so still it’s almost too eerie for his liking. rich, considering how he often inhabits the space shrouded by these four walls late at nights, punching the bag until the ache comes and claims his knuckles. he’s not familiar with the concept of the training room at this hour, when the agents have yet to lay a step into the wrung silence.

he could get used to it, he thinks as he takes off his sweatshirt, heading towards a sack. clad only in his sleeveless tee and training pants, his footfalls are relatively soundless. he’s just commenced ramming his fists into the body of the bag when the privacy is ruptured. he sees hanjon from the reflection on the glass, but he doesn’t stop punching. it’s been one and a half... two weeks since he last saw that supposed best friend of his, and the rumors that whisper in the corridors have caused hansol to question a few things. still, he’s letting hajoon settle into the chamber prior to raining hajoon with inquiries. his eyes follow hajoon’s movements as he continues with his own, the aimed attacks becoming naught but a mindless act. repetitive, but addictive regardless. this catharsis of his has never ceased, for his demons never sleep either.

he only pauses when hajoon draws near enough for him to acknowledge the presence. he turns his head with a quirk of his eyebrow, looking at hajoon with his cliché interrogative expression. it’s one that hajoon would definitely understand how to decipher within the millisecond it’s given, considering just how long they’ve been closest friends to each other. he gives his words light pressures in the tone when he lilts, “i heard you’ve replaced me as your favorite sparring partner.” chuckles, however. there’s a teasing edge to his enunciation, definitely. “so, this is it? the end of us? that rune girl.”

[nsyongjin-blog]

tech troubles.

[nshansol-blog]

nsyongjin‌:

( @nshansol​ )

     it’s not as if yongjin is completely incapable of handling electronics. he’s just… mildly incapable, and finds it all too irritating to the point that he would much prefer sticking to phones with buttons, phones that are only used to place calls and maybe text every once in a while. these new gadgets he gets every couple of months from the data centre confuse him immensely, even more so when they get damaged and suddenly malfunction. in his opinion, if a device is going to be so expensive, it should also be very durable. for example, his gun wouldn’t suddenly stop working because it got wet, then why does his phone give him a black screen? it’s annoying to say the least, and even though yongjin suspects he is also being annoying, he heads for the data centre nonetheless.

     after swiping his card and stepping foot inside, he tries to push the familiarity away, and heads for hansol’s desk instead of the place he used to visit so often. he lost that chance, and it’s hansol who he will beg for help this time. just for that purpose, he has brought a cup of coffee and a bag of delicious pastries. although he’s clueless about most of the newest technology, he needs his phone, and hansol is the one who can fix it for him. hopefully quickly, because he can feel his text messages building up, and he never figured out how to use the ‘cloud’ anyways.

     with a grin on his face, he knocks on hansol’s work table, greeting him with a little nod. “hey there friend — what have you been up to lately? hacking all the databases? stealing uh… — all the bitcoin from the bad guys?” he adds on, completely clueless yet again as he raises his eyebrows, very much faking that he knows how all of that stuff works. before he continues on to why he’s there, he slides the cup of coffee towards hansol, just between the keyboard and the other. that’s a peace offering as far as he knows, and he slides the bag of pastries that way too. he had stopped by the bakery on his way to the hq, and he knows that it’s one of the best ones in seoul.

   "so… i have this ‘ problem ‘ —" and then comes the chase, and with a sheepish look on his face, yongjin takes out a ziploc bag out of his designer bag. it looks out of place, filled with rice with a soaked phone in the middle — but google told him to do it, and there he is. he trusts hansol more than google anyways, so he puts that on the table too, throwing another smile before he continues. “my phone’s not working.”

the bustling environment filled with inconsistent murmurs is the only constant that he’s known how to deal with for the past years. work that drowns, submerging him past his neck is what’s sustaining his lifeline, for when it isn’t present he’s becoming a shell of thoughts that come and go in tidal waves. mostly come, however, and stay. rest, on the expanse of his dug up backyard, all skeletal intents that do not quite ebb completely. he’s left with the memories of a mother, smothering him to the point of breathlessness. everything has become a welcomed distraction, cocooned into one with him in the crux.

and today is of no exceptions. he’s been cramming himself to the neck with the weight of catastrophe, task after task after task. it’s not like his job is ever ending, mountains of it waiting for his attention, and he likes it that way. the submersion is always a welcomed distraction, drowning the cacophonies of what ifs, what ifs. it’s a neverending circle that sometimes doesn’t quite add up into the equation. these rows and rows of codes keep him sane, to say the least, alongside the time spared with the punching bags in the training area.

he’s about to be finished with the day’s piles, at least for the time being, about to head to the training area to release the steam, when he sees someone striding into his area of work. yongjin is a senior that he respects, sure, but it seems that there’s a certain objective this time... and deep down, hansol knows. and dreads it, to some extent. it’s not that he hates helping people, but he’s not the most altruistic either. and this so-called issue has been rather persistent, coming from yongjin. so when the distance is closed, he’s kind of already expected the motives behind the visit.

yongjin is seemingly as clueless to strike a conversation, starting it with bitcoin. in all honesty, hansol does want to smack his own face at this starter, but he forces a smile that probably would come off as a grimace instead. well, cheers to the effort, at least. coffee and pastries, wafting with the scent that renders him hungry, but he knows it’s not a free offering. at the next gesture, he can almost guess what the next step will be for yongjin. rice... a bag of rice. but poking amidst the grains, he can see clearly what’s inside it. he looks at yongjin upon being shown the problem, face deadpanning. “did you... perhaps drop it in the water?” he bites his sarcastic remarks about how rice doesn’t help except to absorb the water. it’s not exactly a resuscitation technique for a doused phone. “hyung,” he swallows. “you probably need a new one. again.”

[nshansol-blog]

pins and needles.

[nshansol-blog]

nsminjae‌:

He can’t believe he did this. He can’t believe he had the courage to ask Hansol to go somewhere with him. That is definitely a sign that yes, Jung Minjae is changing into a whole new person. Changing enough to go to this one person, who’s been messing with his head and heart for a while now, and ask them to go out with him. He would have never even thought about it some months ago, he wouldn’t believe if someone told him that he would do it in the future. And yet, there he is: in front of a mirror, making sure he doesn’t look like a total loser, which means he doesn’t look like himself. 

His hair is way messier than it has ever been, but in a cool way, and his black button up shirt has two buttons open — it’s already a big change in his appearance. And all of that, just to impress one man.

Minjae takes a deep breath before he walks out of the bathroom he’s been locked in for the last twenty minutes, getting ready for his meeting with Hansol, and he smiles to himself as he walks to the building’s front door: he’s hoping Hansol is already there, waiting for him. And he indeed is, looking handsome and charming as usual. Minjae’s smile gets a bit wider when he sees the other, his cheeks feel a little bit warmer than expected but he doesn’t let the faint shade of red of his face destroy the little bit of confidence that he took so long to build. 

“Hello, Hansol.” He says, even though the other male had already questioned him about their destination — he doesn’t want to be so straightforward, even if the youngest of the two tried to get that from him. He doesn’t want to ruin the surprise, either. He just starts off by leading their way out of the building, with a proud smile on his lips as he stands next to Hansol. “We’re going to a really nice place, I think… I’ve never been there before, but I’m excited. And slightly nervous… You’re gonna have to hold my hand if it hurts.”

there are too many ounces of hesitation littering his insides, all shrapnel clinging to the arteries. it feels like having his organs corroding slowly with the rust of these thoughts, corrupting everything with maladies that he cannot quite pinpoint. in the intermezzo there’s always the interruption of rationality that doesn’t really affect much; not when he’s half inebriated with this crush, the sparks that ripple within his ribcage. inevitably, he breathes in and out with his mind engaged, engrossed too deeply in everything that constructs jung minjae.

it’s almost risible, how easily he falls. polarizing magnets which gravity is derived from the changes, chances. he doesn’t comprehend fully, the nature of this attraction. physicality has always been a shallow measure that he shouldn’t have cared about, but it doesn’t mean that the eyes are not the first checkpoint to the soul. he’s been pondering, inexorably, over minjae’s company outside of the therapies. he’s not a product of thoughtless acts — or at least that’s what he’d like to believe. but this... seeing minjae as he walks towards hansol, there’s a skip in the heartbeat that tells him that it must be thoughtless at some point.

maybe he’s let himself fall too deep into the grave just by a little.

he half-regrets not even saying any greeting towards minjae, but the deed is done. he is just... barely thinking, he supposes, too enraptured in the sight of the other man. and still curious as to where he’s going to be brought. he analyzes the moment, but minjae is a closed book. he’s not the psychologist here. a really nice place, and when minjae divulges the fact that he’s both excited and nervous, hansol is drawing blank. and when it comes to holding hand when it hurts, there’s nothing that comes to mind. he furrows his eyebrows, but doesn’t truly say anything, worrying his lip between his teeth. strange. “if it’s going to hurt, do you really think we should go?” he eventually asks with too much concern contained in his tone, too much for his liking.

[nshansol-blog]

pins and needles.

tell them the body is a blade that sharpens by cutting, featuring @nsminjae.

the cacophony of thoughts often litters the aisles of his mind, and nowadays, the murky waters tend to dilute any surface that they can reach. both deafened and dissolved, there’s not much of a resolve that can free him from the shackles that only seem to grow tighter. slivers of umma embed themselves in his flesh, leaving it hard to feel like he’s not a flask of pent up anger. at this point, there are too many carcasses left unburied in his backyard it smells strange. it plagues him, and he cannot deny the urge to undo himself in front of a punching bag every night, body a form of catharsis. he recalls that night in pieces, now, fragmented before haphazardly placed together like a stained glass window.

the first and foremost, a factor internalized in him in the shape of a man. minjae embodies a metamorphosis that enacts something akin to a domino effect in hansol; and in here, everything about his defense, freefalling. he’s left bare, naked to the flesh. it’s not in the same vein as minjae’s executing his job too well — that’s never it. but changes beget attraction, in this matter, and upon realization that minjae is someone he’s comfortable outside of the therapies, he wavers. it’s a pendulum that swings to odd places, crevices of his thoughts. he goes back and forth, back and forth, even when he’s agreed when minjae asked for him to accompany him to a place.

and now, he’s waiting for minjae at the point of their rendezvous. destination still unknown, it only worsens his dithering, vacillation hanging around his neck weighing him down. he shifts his weight from foot to foot as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, waiting for minjae. hair still half-wet from the cold shower after his session of ‘exercise’, he tries to focus on this one simple fact instead of the roundabout thoughts about minjae. when minjae has finally arrived, he unhinges himself from the wall, quirking his eyebrows in questions. “where are we going?”

[nshansol-blog]

heart cleft.

tell them the body is a blade that sharpens by cutting, featuring @nshajoon.

in all the sources of ethical codes, written in rows and rows of fascinating guilt trip with the kind of eloquence that can win through any whittled wars, he lives. understood that in this counted carnage regarding the secrecies, he shouldn’t have coveted someone too well he starts swallowing the sharpened edges of his own thoughts. there are those which punish, leaving him with after midnight insomnia; he’s paralyzed from the thought downwards, having a structure similar to that of a spine except it resides in the cranium. feels like a lie, except it isn’t. feels like a truth, except it isn’t. he’s hovering in-between, having nowhere to rest his mind, so he deliberately evades the source of the inconvenience, hoping that one day he’ll awaken without its weight at the base of his skull anymore.

until running isn’t an option anymore, and he’s faced with the urge for clarity that doesn’t quite reach the expectations. in these hopes were the fade, fading. now, he has to encounter the knowledge that some feelings do not just dissipate, that there’s more than meets the eye. his solace is found in the object of this fixation, but he cannot quite pinpoint as to why. it bothers him to a great extent, considering how it just adds more onto the mountains of missing puzzle pieces in his life. but it’s not like he can just barge into the man’s office demanding answers — as if minjae would have the answers. there’s no answer to this kind of question, typically; time will tell, he’s aware. but doesn’t mean that he can just relent. so, his solution is to seek his best friend, wondering if hajoon would have a piece of advice or two.

he brings with him some chinese takeaway on a day when the missions do not extend past the working hours, arriving at hajoon’s place when he’s certain that hajoon is alone. upon being let inside, he toes his shoes off to wander towards the dining table, placing the boxes of food there. there’s not much said in advance as he still rearranges his thoughts, not knowing how to exactly kickstart this kind of conversation. he blurts it out, eventually, as he gets himself seated comfortably. a cringe emerges on his expression as he looks at hajoon. “i think i fell for someone,” he confesses. “but i don’t think it’s ethical to do so.”

[nshansol-blog]

headcanons: part i.

prompts are taken from these, as published by niskrp.

what’s your eating habits? which cuisines do you like? — from @nsjoon & @nsseon. he doesn’t consume a lot of meals per day, typically twice when his schedules are relatively clear ( read: when he isn’t being drowned by the onslaught of work, and sometimes, personal issues ). he doesn’t eat breakfast unless someone makes him do so, since he usually wakes up late enough for work, and so skipping breakfast is the most ideal step to take. he also doesn’t grab anything from the cafeteria either; just coffee. his meal for lunch is the biggest, usually happening around 12pm - 4pm depending on the degree of his being languid. if someone asks him to go for lunch, though, he’s very likely to say yes. dinner, he eats at 6pm - 10pm, either at work or when he goes back. hansol doesn’t really cook apart from simple things, though, and he’s very lazy upon having to wash the dishes so he’d rather eat out or take away. as for the cuisines, he’s not a picky eater so anything goes in, but his favorite would be authentic korean food, followed by thai food, and then western food. yes, he’d like to eat nine course meals everyday if he could... and all the padthai and pasta. also, the easiest way to make him elated is by bringing him to eat korean barbecue. samgyeopsal would be his favorite food in the world, especially when it comes with spicy sauces.

do you like drinking alcohol? if so, what is your favourite liquor? — from @nshajoon. although he’s a heavyweight, he cannot be labelled as a drinker by any means. he drinks occasionally, for fun, with his best friend since college. he started drinking as soon as he was legal in south korea, though, but he’d prefer coffee over alcohol anytime. nevertheless, his favorite alcohol to imbibe would be wine, the varieties dependent on his mood. just as he is with food, he isn’t very fussy about what goes into his body, although he’d rather have cocktails than actual, naked liquors as he dislikes the taste. as someone who can stomach bacardi with ease, he’s rather reserved with his drinking behavior. when he’s out with friends for social gatherings, he’d still drink but not to the point where he cannot go home since he’s certain that his best friend ( read: hajoon ) might need to be sent back home... or crash at hansol’s place. often reluctant to go to clubs, he’d prefer bars and lounges since he can converse in the aforementioned places.

how was your childhood? do you have a favourite memory? — from @nsjihae. to say that his childhood was ordinary would be an understatement, since it was anything but. birthed to freelance agents unbeknownst to him, he was raised by his mother alone considering that his father continued with his line of work. he didn’t and doesn’t have a lot of recollections when it comes to his father, but he was extremely close to his mother as the sole caretaker. his mother trained him to be the man that he is today, including how to contain the pent-up anger that always seems to reside within him. with his closeness to his mother, who didn’t work per se, he knew her all his childhood. his favorite memory would be of the first time they visited the sandy california beach after the journey from east coast to the west. it was only his mother and him, simply spending time together, his licking ice cream from the best parlor around; he still carries the polaroid taken by a stranger that presents his mother with his six year old self in his wallet.

the most unforgettable memory since you joined the agency? — from @nsminjae. might sound cliche, and a tad uncharacteristic of him considering how he’s never been the best people person around. he’s quite introverted, so to say that the most unforgettable part about joining nis would be the people. it was a pleasant surprise to find that his best friend from college, hajoon, also joined the rank. the people in the organization also have left quite ambivalent impressions on him, making his job both difficult and effortless. being surrounded by the agents for two years gives him enough experience, time to figure out how he should behave around them, in a social environment that he previously tended to avoid. now he’s more relaxed, even with the amount of secrecies that he still reserves. another person that’s worth mentioning would be his newest therapist, even when he at first adamantly stood against therapies when he was obviously in needs of such assistance. in the foreshadow, minjae will not be his therapist for a long time considering that the impression minjae has carved on him will develop into something entirely different. that, in itself, will inevitably be another memory embedded into his mind for a long time.

[nshansol-blog]

helloooooooo, it’s rosé coming to the party with my son, lee hansol! i’m bad at introducing myself so i’m going to jump straight to his summary, and he has an intro snippet that can be found here. he’s basically a sinnamon roll working as a hacker for nis, and he was once trained for marksmanship for half a year. swapped clandestine for intelligence due to a reason divulged below. here is where you can find his biography and profile. if you’d like to plot, please give this a like and i’ll come to you! i also have twitter and discord which you can contact if you wish, but i’m fastest on the latter!

trigger warning: parental death, violence, mental illnesses, pregnancy mention.

truths he doesn’t know: he was born as the only son of two freelance agents, mother becoming former when she found out about her unplanned pregnancy. his mother then acted like she was a mere housewife while his father travelled for business. father was barely home, so he has never known him that well... if at all.

he grew up with his mother, basically. she was the crutches that kept him standing straight. book smart, but he also had violence planted in his crux as a trait. he was irritable as a child, still is until now although he’s better at managing it. he attended a private school in new york, where he was born and raised.

at nine, his father made him hold a gun for the first time, and taught him how to shoot. it was the first jigsaw puzzle that caused him to ponder about it a lot as he grew older. at sixteen, when the lies became murky, they were on the verge of danger, especially his mother and him. so, he was sent to seoul to live with his grandparents from mother’s side. was agitated because she never really came to seoul as promised.

he kept those things from the past in mind, learning hacking by himself at first before delving into computer science as a major in snu. he eventually found his father in the deep web, albeit incomplete. the data was scattered, and he couldn’t piece the puzzles together, which frustrated him.

enrolled in nis five years ago upon graduation from school with 3.9 gpa, and he was a good sniper, naturally following his instinct by choosing the marksmanship, but then the death of his mother spread across the deep web. post-trauma, he pulled himself from training to attend hacking secondary training instead.

he’s been an agent for two years now, and frankly speaking, can at least defend himself in field operation but he’d rather stay back than having to do that because of his mother’s death, and his father’s negligence. around fellow agents, he can be amicable, but he’s not the best at revealing emotions and the likes.

[nshansol-blog]

ALIAS: you can call me rosé! i reside in gmt + seven, with feminine pronouns.

FAVOURITE SPY MOVIE: i used to watch a lot of james bond movies with my father, so my favorite... perhaps the ones with pierce brosnan.

DESCRIBE YOUR CHARACTER’S AESTHETIC: long coats with turtlenecks in neutral colors, black hoodies with random t-shirts plucked from his closet, ripped jeans that show too much knees, half-smoked cigarette in an attempt to smother the vice, a forgotten religion in the face of demise, skepticism in its best formation, an aperture forged from too many secrecies, charcoal and graphite stained portraits with smudged edges, oblivion that descends in the shape of a gunshot, shrapnel that litters his clothes, memories of decrepit pictures hanging haphazardly on the wall.

A VIDEO THAT FITS YOUR MUSE: he’s totally based on this.

YOUR MUSE’S SOUNDTRACK: kitty hawk ( break science remix ) — ki:theory.

FUN FACT ABOUT YOUR MUSE: drinks his coffee with a lot of sugar, no milk. so distant from actual emotions that he doesn’t show a lot of negative feelings. binge watches house md in his free time. a really good sniper, and keen on weaponries even when it’s not his division. majored in computer science to break into deep web. a gym junkie because how else would he channel the emotions. laughs at his own dry jokes a lot whenever he makes them, which isn’t often. sings well. if he were to grow up normal, he probably would’ve auditioned for the voice, or become an idol. has always wanted to learn how to play guitar and drum. also, lives off inheritance from his mother— secretly rich there.