beep & boop! @sncwbored - Tumblr Blog

♡ hi & hello! it’s peach again ( s/h, 21+ ) & here’s my second cutie cho hari, who recently & miraculously clinched a silver at the olympics for slopestyle & her life’s gone all topsy-turvy with the attention! she’s finally got a precious off-season break, so she’s just chilling here in maehwa... or trying her best to! my pages are still barebones but here ( about, wanted, bio ) & there’s some info on hari under the cut! please drop a like or an im if you wanna plot, or lmk if you’d like my discord!

#awhqsintro #( thank u 2 my bby for making the gif icon & tumblr for letting me post it FINALLY😭

kickflipped:

(...)

kit considers staying out of her business, ending the conversation, letting her drag her luggage up herself and move in quietly. he considers not subjecting himself to even more mental anguish. he considers not staring at hari any longer, and stopping himself from wondering about her love life and how she’s been, what she’s been up to these past four months.

“you coming here solo, or…?”

(he doesn’t do any of those things.)

she’s been in maehwa for only five minutes, and kit just blows past it all in that time, kickflips the fragile balance she’d been holding into a mess of skinned knees and scraped palms. she’d thought her heart stopped bleeding when she stopped checking, but healing doesn’t work like that.

hari’s never thought of herself as a bitter person. the smile she squeezes out of herself isn’t sweet, though. “ i’ll look around, ” she agrees, wavering. kit—her kit, not the one in front of her now—would’ve taken her hand and tried to get her to skate around, showed her that one weird plant he’d been saving to make fun of with her. would’ve laced their fingers together and done cliche touristy things on their breaks. let’s go together, not anymore. “ i’ve gotta unpack first. ” luggage; emotional.

stupidly, she recommits kit to her memory, the changes of the time in between. his hair is longer, hands a little paler. she wants to ask after his leg, but it feels too petty to poke at sore spots she knows he’d still hurt over. unlike—well, unlike them. he looks not horrible, which feels unfair somehow. not like the mess she feels like, but she supposes that’s what happens when your heart’s stuck three months back on a text message.

her hands bunch up inside the hoodie he’s letting her keep. “ tha—thanks, ” hari says, trips over the words in her second guessing on the note on his voice. she’s overthinking it, because that hurts less. she’s going to have to hide this hoodie at the very bottom of her new closet, and try extra hard to not miss someone who’s living in the same house as her now.

and he asks that question, first. “ no, ” she says, means not alone, not not single, and hurries to add, “ taek found the place! or we kind of did together, but we’re not together—y’know, he’s—that guy, my best friend? you met—” they never got to, actually— “ i mean. well. he knows, um, ” kit doesn’t care about this, does he. “ yeah, ” she finishes, ramble deflated by the reminder. “ i’m on the second floor, ” hari says, just in case... what, that he’d want to see her?

or if he wants to avoid her. because kit doesn’t care about this anymore, but she hasn’t gotten there yet. there’s those months she needs to catch up to, so she still cares. or that’s what hari’s telling herself, while she wears her ex’s hoodie and finds him in the same place she’d wanted to forget him in, and asks, “ what about you? are you, um, sharing a room too? ”

#❛ ❄ —— ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴍʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. ( threads )#ft. kit / oo1.#cannot shut up disorder is real & i have it

how do u like ur eggs in the morning ;) — for @multimodals!

she scoops up her eggs, with their golden, crispy edges and still gooey in the centre. two perfectly done sunny side ups, into her bento box. turns back to the frying pan, says a little prayer to the egg gods for the blasphemy she’s about to commit, and flips the remaining two eggs over. they sizzle in the butter, yolks turning a bright daisy yellow. hari wiggles them around the pan, flips it once more just to be sure there’s not a single bit of softness to the overcooked eggs, and pops them out.

they probably shouldn’t have gotten the exact same lunchbox, but it’d been a two for one deal. so she packs the rest of the little containers full of rice and their favourite banchan, sticking them with the little labels she found in the kitchen cupboards. runny :) and overcooked :( sit next to each other on the counter, hari washing up first just in case someone else needs to use the shared kitchen.

“ wake up, hey! ” she calls into her phone, sending a little voice message his way, hands too soapy to type. they’ve planned a two day trip for the exciting ( maybe? ) vibes of an overnight camping vlog, so she’s packed everything from a list she found on google, minus the tent. which they might need... but if taek doesn’t have it, sleeping under the stars is a pretty cute title for a video too, she thinks—though she’s not exactly known for having an intuition for what’s good on social media.

at least hari doesn’t need to worry too hard about what she’s wearing, knowing she’ll be safely behind taek’s camera for most of their trip. so she grabs her sports jacket and waits by the entrance, settling in on the floor with her bags to wait for her best friend, overcooked eggs and all.

#❛ ❄ —— ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴍʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. ( threads )#ft. taek / oo1.

duskcrawls:

(...)

“you all know that sometimes i like to take a trip into the…supernatural. hey, if that’s not your thing, i get it. but you should get off the ride now if that’s the case.” this declaration was followed by the sound of a sudden burst of frantically flapping wings laced with the blood-curtling warnings of birds, as seona pushed yet another button on her board.

“osaka, japan. the year is 1991. the spot? kuchinashi bridge; known for the abundance of cape jasmine that dots the undergrowth. a group of teenagers decided to spend a fateful night on the bridge, hoping to spot a glimpse of her…the mōkin…a legend of the area, described as an impossibly tall woman who appears amongst a flock of vultures —” she broke her intense monologue to play another soundbite; the eerie laughter of a woman who sounded suspiciously inhuman. the echo of the laugh off of every surface in the room made even seona grit her teeth, as she immediately paused her recording equipment and turned off the sound effects. she wondered for a moment what on earth the person next door was experiencing.

❄❄

a list of things cho hari isn’t afraid of: jumping down snowy slopes at angles that could break her bones, salmonella from runny egg yolks, clowns even though she watched both IT films, doing somersaults in the air and bungee jumping off of cliffs. and a list of things that haunt her nightmares: animals a fifth of her size with ferocious teeth and claws, the moment before takeoff on a plane, flashing cameras and too many questions to keep up with...

and she can add her neighbour’s creepy, terrifying tales that keep her up at night to that second list now.

there’s an involuntary squeak that escapes her when laughter echoes off the walls, hari already hiding under the covers to listen to her neighbour’s... recording? storytelling? vlogging? despite knowing she’s going to get nightmares immediately after. she can’t help herself—the tales come from right next door, and if she’s totally honest with herself, there’s an addictive sort of fright to listening to them. plus, if she listens all the way to the end, that’s closure, and maybe she’ll get to sleep well. ( which is what she’s been telling herself every night she’s an unintentional listener, and wakes up with eyebags even rue couldn’t pull off. )

only the story doesn’t continue, for a terrifying moment, just the laughter of a vulture woman who could be anywhere—! hari waits with bated breath, and doesn’t hear that familiar voice pick up from where she left off. oh my god, she’s been got by mōkin, is her first thought.

“ hi, sorry i could hear everything from my room—next to you—um, i was listening? ” abort abort that’s admitting to eavesdropping— “ anyway you’re not talking anymore so for some reason i thought, ” no cho hari that’s weird to say! ask if she’s okay! not if she got eaten by the mōkin— “ is the mōkin okay? ”

nailed it.

#❛ ❄ —— ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴍʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. ( threads )#ft. seona / oo1.#im so sry for her rip

kickflipped:

(...)

“didn’t expect, uh…” to see you in the place i specifically went to to escape my problems? “it’s been so long since…” since i broke up with you over text and blocked your number?

kit shifts his weight off his fucked-up knee, swallowing around the lump in his throat. this can’t actually be happening, can it? is this real? because this is just… this is a little cruel, he thinks, it’s just a little bit too cruel.

“are you here, uh, here to visit or to… to stay?”

hari should’ve known running into her ex could only happen like this. stars misaligning to embarrass her, while she’s gunky from a flight and in the ugliest, comfiest clothes—that belong to him. she’s still wearing kit’s hoodie, like an idiot.

she stops before her luggage does and it rolls over her foot, scrunching her face up for a moment in pain. a little ah escapes her, wrapping up the sudden avalanche of sticky hurt that isn’t caused solely by wheels going over toes into one soft syllable. she raises her hand up to her face, palm open. “ hey, ” hari parrots. tries to be her own person, “ hi? ”

she can still read kit’s face, even after three months of complete, blocked silence. it’s the expression he wears when they meet up after months and a competition didn’t go the way he wanted, only it’s a million times worse now. his sentences start and cut off, and she feels like she’s back in training camp and staring at the message not delivered note, wondering what it all means.

( his texts were pretty clear, actually. )

“ oh. um. ” she points up at the room she’s just signed a contract for two months for, like he’d know what she means. hari awkwardly, jerkily puts her hand back down. “ i’m staying, ” she says, “ for summer, ” pauses. her hands curl into themselves. “ i can, um, i can visit, instead? ”

he’s still got that look on his face and it’s like her heart’s crumbling all over again, into the pocket of his hoodie. she doesn’t know how to explain why she’s still wearing it—funny story, you gave me this so i’d think of you during training, then you dumped me over text and blocked me, so now i still have your hoodie and a box and a half more of your things that i never got to return since my messages wouldn’t send anymore and you just disappeared on me—and she still wears it and thinks of him, and maybe he’d want it back if he knew that.

but how is she supposed to say all of that? so she says the wrong thing instead, “ do you want this back? ”

#❛ ❄ —— ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴍʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. ( threads )#ft. kit / oo1.