pretty odd.

[srmiso-blog]

ooc; 

i’m gonna be on “hiatus”! but just until next monday, as I’m going out of town ;; if you like this i’ll come plot with you as soon as i get back!

[srmiso-blog]

suspension.

[srmiso-blog]

srkiyong:

kiyong manages a quick two sips before miso grabs it back, and he hides the roll of his eyes by turning his head, taking another long drag. “are you confessing that you’re suicidal, or just a fucking idiot?” kiyong wonders aloud, his voice slipping back into the same bland tone he tends to project onto these sorts of topics. but it’s true. kiyong knows what happened to miso’s sister. they had both talked, comforted each other over the erasure of their siblings from the world. “i wonder if that’s what your sister thought, too.” kiyong mumbles, turns his head to glance over at miso. a little cruel, but he wants to get his point across. he cares about miso, doesn’t want her wandering off alone into the woods. still, he feels a little bad. sighs, decides to humor her, if only marginally. “reminds me of those stupid legends. you know, about fairies. charming people and shit, just to take them. everyone wants to be flattered, it’s stupid to think compliments have good intentions.” he finishes, shifts to tap the end of his cigarette against one of the metal rungs to ash it.

"i like hanging out with you anyway." she informs him as he grins wryly at her, insists that he has had no luck in order to be stuck like this. "its a bummer you don't appreciate met the way that you should." she adds in wistful complaint, lowerlip jutting out slightly as she tilts her head to the side, hair spilling over her shoulder only to tousle, tangle into knots and waves and curls thats to the gentle wisp of the wind. kiyong is mischief to his core, slanted smiles and wicked eyes, and she wonders sometimes how she fell in with such dubious partners in crime. she could have been a quiet soul - nerdy and prone to too many hours bent over a tablet but, no, her grandfather's spirit was too strong in her, her own strangenesses awoken by the oddness of their little city.  "besides, you find my enthusiasm endearing." she adds brightly, as if it were an incontestable fact, shifts to hop down to the playground surface to retrieve her bag.

kiyong is awfully pretty now, with his head tipped back and a ring of smoke around him like a halo, obscuring sharp features in an almost artful manner. its the kind of thing she'd like to draw, so she focuses in on it, on him, just for a moment, gaze like a shutter to capture the picture of him, store it in her memory. she moves to sit beside him again, hands off the flask and exhales softly when his tone shifts. they deal with things in different ways. kiyong is desperate to avoid his memories, miso finds herself desperate to drown in her own, to explain and understand, to categorize and articulate. "not really." she admits, lets her head drop for a moment, gaze examining her toes as silence shifts, settles heavy between them. "i'm sorry. i just - " she exhales, "i want answers, you know? i just want answers." she pushes her hand back through her hair, rights herself once more, shifting to thump her shoulder against his with a little chuckle. like she can forcefully laugh it away.

it doesn't work though, because his tone pulls flat and hard, one she is all too familiar with, knows she's struck a nerve. she's worried him - and she knows that, and she hates that, but she hates the unknowing more. hates the indifference everyone leveled at the loss - oh, the forest, another victim, how sad...but how routine. how ordinary. just another little girl lost in the forests. "I just hate how...how no one even blinks, you know? its hard to raise kids in iri, oh man, always wandering into trouble. and...and dying. kids just die here. people die - or just vanish, go missing, whatever. and no one...its just so normal no one cares. no one cares enough." she stresses the final word, with a sort of earnestness. sometimes she wonders if she feels too much, enough for all the glazed over emotions of the town, all bundled into one.

"i know its stupid. i...i probably wouldn't even do it, honestly. i've had years to go in there, after all, and i still haven't. not for...long enough." she points out, takes another gulp and hands it away, a burn down her throat that almost soothes. "it might be nice. " she decides after a moment of silence, shifts her hand to slip it into his, fingers tangling together, palms pressed tight. "if miyeon thought it was fairies. if she thought she could find them, in the forest. she loves that kind of stupid shit." she sniffs, quick, "it'd be nice if they compliment you up until the end of it, too, you know. whatever it is. maybe it isn't the worst way to go. i just." she pauses, exhales and leans her head against the other's shoulder. "i just wish that i knew what happened to her."

[eunbyulsr-blog]

( once upon a dream.

[srmiso-blog]

eunbyulsr:

“oh,” eunbyul says, when the stranger finally looks up at her. “it’s you.”

miso bends over the tablet, tired eyes squinting as she wields the stylus-slash-pen between her fingers, etching practiced lines to bring her little band of heroes to life. its some time nearing two in the morning, and she's desperately wishing it had been a fourth sunday - what she wouldn't give for an extra hour in her evening to meet her deadlines. of course they're self imposed, in fairness. she's the one who decided to publish a new chapter ever monday, wednesday, and friday, but now her readers expect it, and she needs the money, needs to be reliable and consistent, and on the whole its a lot of pressure sometimes. especially when she's been horribly blocked up on ideas all week, which means she's nearing the end of her pre-planned material, scrambling to figure out what to do next.

the next thing she knows, she isn't drawing delicate bows and magical girl weaponry anymore, she's blinking her eyes open in the middle of a meadow. it smells of lavender and pine, even if the sky is an odd sort of shade, even if all the light seems to spill from the sky itself. it has her energized immediately, pleased and suddenly enthused. of course- the dreams, she can bring the dreams into the comic! instantly, she holds a sketchbook and pencil in her hands, begins to swoop lines over the page to capture the ideas suddenly bursting from her, a desperate hope that she can embed the ideas in her muscles, recall them when she wakes.

just as soon as they come they vanish, however, momentarily chased away by the distraction of a voice, ringing pretty and tentative from behind her. miso's head turns instinctive, curious, head tilting to the side to examine the other girl, a slight squint. she's seen her around before - iri is small - but the only people she's ever dreamed with lately tend to be, well, a bit more important to her. she supposes it makes sense though, perhaps its just the luck of the draw.

"yes, well, nice to see you also." she replies easily, a quick chuckle on her lips, twisting towards something like a scoff. "have you dreamed the meadow before? I haven't, in a bit. its awfully nice right?"

[srmiso-blog]

secrecy.

[srmiso-blog]

srjaesung:

jaesung’s gotten good, a little too good, at hiding this thought process, though. masks it with ease and a dumb smirk on his lips when she stands and he realizes belatedly he’s not dressed in very much. he takes her hand, pulling himself back up and shrugging, “nah.” he pauses, looks down to dust the sand off his hands, his body, his boxers, and notices that he feels incredibly sore for being in what he can only assume is a dreamscape. “don’t pretend like you don’t prefer me in just my boxers anyway, mi,” he jokes, the curve in his lips boyish, smug, though in reality he’s just not quite sure how exactly to dream himself into clothes. “what is this, anyway? you look at home here,” he questions, eyes scanning the desolate city bathed in an uncomfortable red glow, tacking on a, “considering it looks a little like i’d imagine hell to be.”

jaesung is stupidly handsome, even prone on the ground in the middle of a dying land. the red glow of the sun paints him over in bronze and gold, and miso takes just a second longer to move, to act, to speak - just to look. it had all been so terribly easy once, being around him. smiling with him, laughing with him, loving him. but she complicated it, ruined it, as she does everything, and now they limp along, lingering beside each other, grasping at a past that escapes them. "don't pretend you don't dream about me." she teases easily, extends a hand to pull him up to his feet,  a grin widening on her lips as he groans and grumbles, smirks easy at her, its his go-to expression; wielded like a sword, worn like a shield.

it suits him at least, fits with the way his eyes glitter with mischief, and something sadder - a darker and deeper expression that layers beneath outward extroversion. he never fought the breakup, never asked her why, seemed to take it all in stride when she came back to him anyway, without the labels. but it was easier for her to write it off as punishment for herself. of course he wouldn't mind. of course he wouldn't fight it - why would he? why would anyone? maybe that helped drag her back in anyway, sliding under his sheets late at night, when kiyong is out with remi, or busy, or asleep. when the quiet of the world makes it seem like it could be just them again, and no one else.

she likes this dream, she decides, exactly because of that. because of the quiet around them, the still surety that in all this world, they are the only two living beings. its the only way the world makes sense to her; in isolation, and with him. "i dreamed myself a better outfit, which helps." she informs him, when he turns to scan the city, laughs quick. "but its kind of beautiful, right. everything is so still. like its just us." she explains, reaches over to grab his hand on instinct, wind tousling through their hair, the quiet howl of it through the crumbling buildings, "lets explore." she adds, tugs at his hand before she pauses, a contemplative look crossing her features before she examines him, dreams him into a pair of well fitting black leather pants and a snug white tshirt. "now you're a hot explorer, cmon." she hums, nose scrunching playfully as he squirms in place.

[lilyevians-archive]

[srmiso-blog]

turnaround.

@srjieun

tick, tock, tick, tock.

miso's had her bleary, glazed eyes fixed distractedly on the clock for the better part of a half hour now, watching with desperation as the hands tick tick tick around the surface, slowly, slowly approaching her current favorite moment. 4pm. in other words, the end of her shift.

now its not a bad job, but like any part time job, its hardly her number one priority. its not exactly fun. its not the way she would choose to spend an evening, or an afternoon, or a morning, or a day, or whatever else. she's tired of her ugly blue polyester vest, she doesn't want to stand up anymore, she doesn't want to smile at customers and punch numbers on the register and thump the side of it twice and wiggle the drawer to get it to open, as she always must. she doesn't want to unjam the stupid receipt machine when the paper gets stuck because hr manager cheaped out on just about everything possible to cheap out on. she just wants to go get dinner, head home.

the sound of a little bell and jieun's subsequent appearance in the doorway signals it must be about time, and a quick glance at the clock confirms this exactly, has her lighting up with energy and enthusiasm. she rips the vest off, runs back to grab her backpack and stowe the garment away, clocks out and heads back to the front of the store to link her arm through jieun's.

the two girls chatter happily, jieun regaling her with stories of the current state of the local high school, miso every amused to hear the complicated goings on of high school life, of the teen years. of course, she herself had dubiously dragged that complication along with her into her twenties, but at least it was better than being bored. as they wound through the familiar streets (placed in an unfamiliar pattern), however, miso's smile slowly faded to be replaced by the slight purse of lips that indicated she was focusing, before she eventually paused in place.

"wait a minute. we're going in a circle. we've walked past this street combination before, turned down second and come out onto 44th. are - have we gotten lost?" she groans, pushes her hand back through her hair as she glances around, as if for clues. she sighs dramatically after a moment, turns her head to jieun with a frown. “my young padawan, i appear to have led you astray.” at least humor will lighten the annoyance of being lost, an unfairly common occurence in iri.

[hyukid-deactivated20190624]

you’re one of god’s mistakes

[srmiso-blog]

srjaeho:

when he arrives he parks quickly, leaving the car and slamming the door. his mind is screaming at him to not go inside. to calm down. to turn the fuck back and go find hyemi and stop this nonsense. what will he do? punch kiyong, ruin everything he’s built over this girl and for what? his mind is making perfect sense and yet here he is, opening the door as if he owns the place, stepping in as if he was invited. and there she is: alone, lying down on the couch, looking up at him as if she had been waiting. 

“where the fuck is he?” he demands only to be sure. because he knows. the trap was set and he knew all along and yet he’s still here waiting, aching. 

living with her two best friends is perfect.

okay, its mostly perfect. her two best friends happen to also be full grown men, which takes it down a notch, and jaesung spends more time on his hair than she does, and kiyong is such an emotional rollercoaster it can be tiring, and there are always socks on the floor and beer cans around, but on the whole, its great, it really is. its not great for keeping secrets, but that's another story.

for the most part, miso loves living with them because she hates being alone. it makes her skin crawl. the quiet, the silence, the stillness. she's an extrovert to the extreme, and an emotional leech. she needs people around her, with her, needs to draw that energy from them to keep herself going. left alone too long, she starts to implode. it begins with boredom and restlessness, escalates in to anxiety and the fluttering beat of her heart as she remembers, acutely, each of her sins, replaying themselves behind her eyelids, threatening to drag her down. whispers in her head promise her failures and rejection, detail the punishments she deserves for her myriad transgressions.

to combat them, when there are no available options physically, miso turns to the internet. with both the boys out for the night doing who knows what (or who), she finds herself scrolling, scowling, through instagram, snapchat, twitter. she updates here and there, blindly pins a few pictures, opens her empty texts for the hundredth time before she sees his name. "jaehoppa" with a heart, a skull and crossbones, a kiss. opening the conversation reveals what she knew already - he's on a date tonight, with his girlfriend. her lips quirk slightly and she looks at the clock. 11:30. maybe he's thinking he'll get laid tonight.

she navigates to instagram and posts a picture.

its from a few weeks ago, kiyong sloppy drunk, lips pressed to her cheek, his hand clutched around her waist, her own cheeks flushed and smile wide, hair tousled. she wonders if it will prompt him to text her, at least, considers another picture, gets lost in a thread on a forum when the door slams open, bangs shut, and she sits up wide eyed, momentarily, before her surprise flutters into an expression of smug surety. "i don't know who you're talking about. its just me here tonight, babe, were you looking for one of the boys?" her tone is all lightness and ease, unbothered despite the racing of her pulse, the surge of adrenaline that courses in her veins even as she lays back in place against the couch, lifts her phone to scroll as if unbothered. she pauses, glances up at him. “you look a little flushed, you feeling okay?” 

[srmiso-blog]

welcome home !

in downtown iri, exists a small sharehouse, home to three longtime friends. the bedrooms on the top row belong to @srkiyong, @srmiso and @srjaesung respectively. bound together by friendship, secrecy, tragedy, and love, they are iri’s rather unholy trinity - a less golden and more rusted trio, if you will. the little house is quite modest in size and their land lady is a truly vicious, bent, strange old woman, but it suits their needs just fine. so, should you ever pay one or more of them a visit, here’s a handy visual guide !

[srmiso-blog]

suspension.

[srmiso-blog]

srkiyong:

kiyong flicks his thumb against the gear one, two, three times after the cigarettes already lit. watches the flame burst in and out of life – adjusts it so that the flame leaps higher each time. “i don’t give a fuck.” kiyong answers to her displeasure, which isn’t entirely true, but it’s not like he wanted to find the thing. kiyong would be happy if it turned up dead on the side of the road. the image of bear brings with it bad memories. memories he hasn’t even managed to tell miso. but what is there to tell, really? “sure, if you wanna share.” kiyong mumbles out, finally tucks his lighter back into his pocket and lets out a thin stream of smoke between his lips. “why would you want to find something that’ll give you back luck anyway?” kiyong calls out when miso hops back down to root around her bag. 

the sight of the pair together is not something that would surprise anyone. its been this way for years, the two of them - the three of them, with jaesung - against the world. miso had returned from new zealand shattered. years of bullying and isolation, cruelty and hatred, fear and loneliness had left her starved for validation, attention, affection. she had been homesick for iri to the point of illness and with the taint of strangeness on her, the eerie touch of the city woven into the fabric of her being, no one else had ever really understood her. she put people off, in the outside world, weirded them out. they glanced over her, around her, turned away from her. but coming back to iri, to strangeness and wonder, to kiyong and jaesung, it had been exactly what she needed to pull her out of that darkness- and into another. she started acting out then, lashing out and running wild, thriving on the adrenaline and the camaraderie and the attention, and its never stopped since then. she feeds off it, needs it. she feels often as though the moment eyes turn from her, she stops existing - suspended in limbo, lost. kiyong always turns back to her, sticks to her side, slouches into her room late at night to bum a smoke or crawl into her bed, an easy feat considering he's just down the hall. she loves them, her boys, and she needs them.

she and kiyong, though, they share a secret. the kind of secret that could ruin their makeshift little family, crush everything they had all built together, reaffirm both of their worst fears in the process. so perhaps, really, kiyong just gets it - gets her - more than anyone else. he knows her darkest moments, after all. he was part of them.

he tugs at her leg and she slips slightly, laughing loudly and brightly even despite the wobble of her senses and the shift in her balance, fingers tightening against the metal as she straightens herself up, cheeks aching by the time she's stabilized again. she swats a hand playfully at his thigh, pushes at his knee. "jerk." she declares, names him this thing with a smile on her lips, and a lack of sincerity that betrays her amusement easily, if that could even be questioned. her pulse rushes, races in her skin, pounds against the cage of her ribs, the adrenaline flushing her cheeks (an unfortunate tell she's never been able to stifle) and lights brightness in her eyes. "you're such a fucking killjoy." she murmurs, squeezes a hand against his knee regardless. kiyong's relationship with the supernatural is complicated - so is her own. they deal with a similar loss in very different ways, but they both understand each other, at least, enough to play along.

"i'll always share with you, oppa." she assures him in her best saccharine sweet impression of a smitten young woman, bats long lashes at him before she's scrambling back down again, hauls the flask up with her this time, sets the squared off lilac fabric of the bag (a gift from the boy at the top of the structure, in fact)  to rest precariously leaned against the lower rungs. "dunno, so i can say i've seen it? get a picture for the pamphlet, maybe. bet they'd buy it off me."  she makes her way back up and hands it off to him, trades it for the cigarette, breathes in deep, the smell of smoke familiar in her lungs before she exhales slow. "maybe i just want to see if my luck can really get worse." she trails out, examining the glowing ember at the end of her cigarette, glances down at the playground beneath them. she takes the flask from him, fits it to her lips and pulls a gulp. "i want to go into the woods. i mean, i've been in, you know. but deeper. i've never heard the whispers more than barely. i wonder if it gets louder, the deeper you get. i wonder if they say something else, besides the compliments."

[lisoo]

[srmiso-blog]

secrecy.

@srjaesung; asleep, shared dream.

dark eyes flicker open to be met with the soft, rust colored glow of a dying sun. she knows its a dying sun because after the first time she dreamed this dream, she went on a search through google. a large, massive red star hangs crimson in the sky, bathing everything around her in what seems to be an eerie pinkish glow. the sun is haunting, the color of dried blood, somehow fitting the empty, arid landscape. she's started to wonder if these dreams, these settings, are windows into another world. some distant planet, inhabitants driven out by plague or famine or war, the apocalypse of a solar flare come too close to the surface, who knows. she wants to unravel its mysteries, wants to know the stories whispering unspoken in the quiet howl of the wind whipping through crumbling marble structures.

she dreams herself out of pajamas and into the most perfectly fitting jeans she can imagine, a plain white tshirt to match, and her personal real life black doc martens, her trustiest companions in this world or any other.  prepared for searching through the emptied city, she pushes up to her feet, dusting herself off, red clay colored dirt falling from her jeans as she does. the silence is suddenly  interrupted, however, by an odd shift in the world around her, the strangest feeling of change and adjustment, as if the fabric of the world around her has moved and twisted and shifted.

the source of this becomes clear nearly immediately, a familiar boy blinking himself awake, curled on his side against the pavement in front of her in only his boxers, tan skin almost glowig beneath the odd pallor of the light. she drops to squat beside him, one hand on her knee, the other moving to press a finger into his side. "wake up sleepy head." she instructs, a fond smile on her lips as he complies, groaning quietly. "i guess you can't escape me even in your dreams, huh jae?" its a quiet tease, a silly laugh, but there's a twist in her chest, her sense of peace and calm slowly abating.

it used to be she never felt safer, stronger, better than when she was with jaesung, tugging at his sloppily tied uniform tie or dragging him off into the forest with her, using him to fight her battles or fending off wide-eyed underclassmen that tried to confess - because he was hers, just like kiyong was, and, honestly, perhaps even a little bit more.

or at least, he had been. but she'd ruined that too, hadn't she? and the thought of it even now twists in her stomach, even as she stands upright, offers him  a hand. "you gonna dream yourself some pants?"

[srmiso-blog]

suspension.

@srkiyong ; samak park, 1am

miso has always loved the crispness of the night air in iri, always whipping clean and clear and cool through her hair, across her cheeks, tousling long strands of hair into escaping from a messy ponytail. the best part of iri is that there is always something to be discovered, uncovered, revealed. they had taken to the streets in the dwindling hours of the night, the suspended quiet of the blue hour. it lingers around them even now like a miasmatic cloud of calm, a peacefulness that she can feel slipping away from her bit by bit as color returns to the world, blue draining away to reveal the natural saturation of their surroundings. her toes drag against the rubbery surface of the playground as she walks, headed for the jungle gym.

she's always been an adventurous girl, lithe and energetic, muscle built from climbing and running and jumping and exploring, and this hasn't changed a bit over the years. the climb to the apex of the structure is familiar, the slightest ache of muscle as it extends, flexes, drawing the slight weight of her up along the bars. the girl settles into place at the top, room left for the boy moving just as effortlessly up after her, all slender limbs and pale skin and a somewhat perpetual smirk etched against his features. she scrunches her nose as she lifts a foot, pretending she might drive the heel of her beaten black doc martens into his forehead, even as she fumbles in the pockets of the pale purple bomber she's wearing to produce a lighter.

"you've got some on you right?" she questions hopefully, mimes putting a cigarette to her lips as she does, a hum when he settles into place beside her. she slides a little closer, the two of them perched at the top, surveying the park around them like it might be their singular domain, king and queen of the strange stillness of one am in iri. she leans her head to the side, against his shoulder, a groan as she stretches her legs out. "bit of a bummer." she adds, slightly sulkily, referencing the fact they had not come across bear after all, despite it having been promised to her he'd been sighted in the area just moments before she burst into kiyong's room and dragged him outside with her. her back pack rests, camera inside, at the bottom of the structure - she's rarely seen without it. "i think i've got a flask in my bag, if you want me to go grab it."

[srmiso-blog]

— hello everyone this is mimi comin at u with the lovely (?) chu miso.  she is a twenty one year old webcomic and part time clerk at the 7/11 because art only makes so much money, even when its silly. her webcomic is named MiRACLE ! and publishes on monday, wednesday, and friday every week, operating since 2015, and you can read more about it here.  i have a few little plots up, along with a tl;dr fact page and her biography. i’ll give you a little snippet of things beneath the cut and hopefully we can get to plotting ! please bring me darkness, angst, secrets, hate, romance, all of those things in one plot, whatever. im like 99% down always.

— her sister died when she was 8, lost in the woods — black sheep of the family that always got on better with her grandfather — grandfather was a mystery writer who used iri as inspiration — she carries on that tradition with her webcomic —  she started her creative endeavors to cope with his death — was sent to new zealand for school from 10-15 years of age — hated it, was bullied, was weird, weird stuff followed her, it was the worst — came back from that very, very different — lives in a sharehouse downtown with two roommates — local magical girl afficianado, studio ghibli enthusiast, nintendo fan girl — was in mayhem bedlam subplot group as a teen in high school — still prone to overindulging / hedonism — social media junkie, can’t survive without wifi, addicted to filters — very fussy about the aesthetics of her personal social media pages — is very secretive about herself, hides behind her extroversion — very in your face, very enthusiastic — exceptionally reckless, rebellious, raucous — appears to have no functional sense of self preservation —  i swear that she has a moral compass but its very bent —  she collects people like figurines and Needs attention and affection

[pitypagn-old]

[srmiso-blog]

MiRACLE !

artist: chuchu (chu miso) released: june 2015. genre:  magical girl, slice of life, comedy, action/adventure, fantasy chapters: 1-153.  status: ongoing.

MiRACLE!  

Cherry, a young girl from the countryside, moves to the city of Eer, up in the mountains, only to find things are not as they seem. After getting lost in the Whispering Woods, she encounters an old woman who bestows the powers of a genie on her, developing her alter-identity as a magical girl. Together alongside a ragtag band of misfit locals, Cherry attempts to navigate and neutralize the strangenesses around town, all while attempting to live a normal life.

MiRACLE ! is the fictionalized serialization of Miso’s life, through the lens of the magical girl genre. Members of her social circle, people in town, and oddities that pervade their personal landscape feature heavily in the narrative, often in exaggerated or otherwise fictionalized ways. She has recently begun dividing the series into “arcs” that deal with different strangenesses of the town; the first arc dealt with Bear, only he featured as a shapeshifting werewolf, the second arc dealt with overthrowing the propaganda paper (who were additionally a power-rangers-esque team of mech pilots) and so on. the current arc (the ninth) is named “deadend” and deals with the ever shifting roads, and specifically the one that occasionally changes locations - in this case, becoming a portal to the underworld and unleashing monsters on the town instead of just a boring field.