ley / line

think about the inside of grapefruits when you stroke your face for me and how that need stings worse than the things you love

[ssaecularis]

apropos of nothing / profile. bio. visual.

[ssaecularis]

⸻ quick tracker update

starters owed from the intro post because i have to keep pulling the post up to see who is left, HAH:

◟@/naivemeldy ◟@/counterflight ◟@/foldingdoors

[ssaecularis]

seclusion wears him down in ways that count. at least, that’s how it was when his first six months in seomri were spent toddling about like a hermit crab from point a to point b, back to point a, every day in one unyielding and boring course of stability. jungil isn’t one to complain often about the vagrancies of repetition – it’s his bread and butter, after all, considering just how many times he has to repeat a song with his hands in order to commit it to memory. but there was just something not too great about seclusion with no brief social stints to attached to it. with little noise in one’s life, it’s difficult to appreciate the better qualities of the quiet.

there’s only so many times he can tolerate practicing his own music in a day and so many hours he could waste attempting to manufacture jam theory’s music into something marginally more palatable. back when he had a grand & proper career in it, it had a je ne sais quoi aspect, sitting down in his little practice area and putting his ideas to the test. it had been a something less thorny and more… significant, he supposes. perhaps it’s because this house reminds him of pocheon and his grandmother’s stringy voice coming from the upper rooms, telling him to do better in math rather than play on his cello all day.

ah well. he’s not against distilling his life to a cupful of coffee a day, the occasional walk through the downtown streets up, getting acquainted with the brunt of the shops, until he set his eyes on a little job at the lumber mill. through all of that though, he’d forgotten just how quickly his hair would start poking at his eyes, despite having come to seomri with a nearly shaved head.

in fact, jungil hadn’t realized how perfectly annoying it had become until he had to drag his bangs away from his eyes for what felt like the millionth time, this time as he attempted to quietly determine what produce he needed for dinner that evening.

ending up at saekbom’s hadn’t really been in the plans, but nothing is ever in his plans these days. he’s there anyway, right up the counter, trying to explain to a colorful seo bomi if there was a haircut that had the convenience of being bald without actually being bald. “i don’t really care if my head looks like an egg,” jungil presses his lips flat together and ends up a little lost staring at the products the shop offers – some of them familiar, some of them not quite. “but i also don’t want baby bangs. i’m not sure how to explain it…”

back in seoul he had his own barber and it came to a point that he hadn’t really needed to tell them what he wanted. that was a problem, because he lacked the words to explain the sort of haircut jungil favors. he casts a worried glance to the side, resorts into saying, “you know what? just surprise me.”

⸻ rinse & condition / s. @chvrryblsms

[ssaecularis]

“aren’t mayors supposed to, you know, help its citizens out?” jungil makes a grab for the mayor’s boring white mug dubbed pen holder and switches it to the opposite side, the plastic clinking subtly with the speed of the movement. he casts a suffering glance towards the secretary’s desk, to that interesting looking girl with the city air sitting on her posture.

it’s not her fault that he let himself in while she was on a bathroom break. that sort of happens when you least expect it – and lucky for him, it was perfect timing. he needed ask the mayor why they had denied jungil’s request to bring a brigade in to fix that damn lack of drainage inside of his garden. jungil’s getting a bit tired of having to shovel his hands around the caked up pipes, grime too old to reorient the water properly. his nails are semi-permanently tinged brown with the mud and the muck, leaf garbage and gods know whatever else makes a home out of wet, grimy earth. there’s only so much he could do with his inexperience.

he makes a point out of that inconvenience by checking them now, picking at some it with pinched brows and a severe frown, “i promise they won’t make that much noise. and if they do, it’ll only be for a handful of days. i already looked into finding someone to fix the wood of the house exactly in the original style after that’s done. so, what’s the issue…?”

jungil knows it’s useless to ask the head of the snake what goes on at the tail. he’s not really talking to mayor now, walks back to stand at an amicable distance from byeon bitna’s desk as he fishes the denial letter from his jacket, the one that claimed that he hadn’t provided sufficient information the company’s standing with seomri’s community.

a rather hilarious claim considering it’s a local team experienced in hanok houses. jungil doesn’t say as much, doesn’t blame the secretary, exactly, for the mayor’s apparent inability to read a document in its entirety. that’s what she’s for, isn’t it?

“there’s has to be a copy of everything archived with whatever urban development person i mailed those plans to just last week?” jungil meant to assert but lilts the end into the question instead, smoothing out the crumpled paper of the letter in his fingers, looking at bitna instead.

⸻ pen-waste / s. @bergamor

[ssaecularis]

hwayang had seemed very nice when jungil had met him at the farmstead where, apparently, most of seomri’s manicured gardens had their seeds coming in from. he says apparently, because he hadn’t really believed it at first. but then again, perhaps he should have taken it at face value the second his inquiring had led him to darken the shop's doorstep, laying disbelieving eyes on the rows and rows blooms just off the side of the property.

it had been a spur of the moment thing, an impulsive action that jungil couldn’t quite explain other than that he had this poorly formed idea of setting down some flowers along the side of his home – the side that faced the neighboring abode to its left. he’d been quite set on it, thinking about how nice a little neat of row blooms can spruce up the place while he tried to get to the more complicated projects.

so he had bought an assortment of mixed blooms, all with hwayang’s informed suggestion. he’d kept particular care with the fact that jungil didn’t have a green thumb and that anything more fragile than a patch of weeds would probably die under jungil’s care. no, jungil needed a batch of sturdy and perhaps perennial blooms; a grouping of mixed colors, no preference expressed, that jungil could manage and care for without having to be all that knowledgeable on the subject.

hwayang seems just as nice now when jungil stands at the counter again, looking real sorry and tinged with embarrassment.

“my flowers drowned.” jungil says, frowning, refusing to meet the younger’s eyes. “i meant to put them in the ground today but yesterday’s rain caught me off-guard; i had the flowers soaking in a little bit of indirect light in a spot in the garden, and i didn’t know that the drainage there was poor. i…” he grimaces, locking his hands in front of himself, palm over palm, “i need to repurchase the entire order again, if you have it…”

⸻ blossom / s. @bloomingrites

[ssaecularis]

jungil had only been working at the lumber mill for a little more than five months when april had finally geared up with enough splashes of colors to even make monet roll in his grave.

jungil, though, didn’t really feel all that inspired by the swathing spring. it was beautiful, certainly. he could even say that it’s downright picturesque, because seomri’s relatively insulated location had allowed for so much wild flora to grow free and unperturbed that anyone unaccustomed to the sight might be instantly charmed by the untouched shapes of the blooming shrubbery, the tress standing tall and merciless against that furiously blue wreath of sky. but it reminded him just a touch of when he had first stepped foot in seomri, when he had only felt like a fish bobbing way too close to shallow, dangerous waters. he’s not really used to that sort of discomfort.

he’s used to sure footing and of knowing exactly what he’s doing, and whatever else he would do next. maybe if he spoilt himself enough with some sitting in the most sought out areas a tourist might like, or at his interior garden inside of his home, he might change his mind. maybe. hopefully.

jungil had approximated to something like that when he met jaejun at the wheat barrel just a month after moving into his house in seojeong-gil. jungil had been scouting out the place so he could see for himself the sort of acoustics he would be dealing with when the time came to take that little stage; he was also in frank need of a good, hard drink. matching up to him in random conversation hadn’t been difficult – and through enough polite inquiry he had eventually gathered that jaejun played for a band, and that was enough for jungil to suggest that they should test a few songs together if the time allowed it.

jungil hadn’t expected to become his coworker by the end of the year. was he surprised? not particularly. jungil had come to expect as much, considering seomri’s tiny population.

jungil’s taking a smoke break by the company truck he’s supposed to be manning towards the easternmost area of the town when jaejun swaggers by, doing god knows what.

“is your band booked anywhere this week?” jungil calls out as he remembers, suddenly, having agreed to catch the band at least once in a proper setting. he’s mostly used to hearing jaejun’s drumming in a less serious session with him, but jungil’s guitar needs new strings and he’s waiting on the package, so they haven’t met up in quite some time. no better time than the present, he supposes. it might keep his mind off of spring.

jungil quirks a brow and doesn’t add anything further, not holding much belief in trying to break the silence.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎⸻ spotlight / s. @4004notfound

[ssaecularis]

heya, everyone! a smidge late to the party but alas here i am finally. i go by cal, 27, and any pronouns are a-okay with me! i’m currently gmt-4 but frankly i might be around at odd hours as irl duties allow it, so feel free to pop by the ims. anw, i’m super excited to flesh out this muse with each and every one of you guys! i’ll place some possible useful info on him below the cut!

[here’s] a barebones profile on him, but i’ve yet to finish writing his full bg. i’ll keep everyone posted on that, but feel free to approach for more details.  if you’ve seen this skeleton before, then hello once again! i’ll list here some random tidbits & potential plots/connections i might be looking for:

tidbits:

jungil has dedicated a long portion of his life making music for the guitar and the cello, but he has no creative hand on what music he plays for the jam theory. given that the jam theory is there for a specific purpose, jungil usually takes what music his employer gives him and simply adapts it to the band’s aesthetic. yes, he has opinions on it. he will avoid talking about it in public.

he likes to keep quiet but he also really likes to have a good time, so he’s probably ever present at every public event there is.

if he’s not busy, he’s working on the house, in the garden or working on the exterior.

all of his published compositions are under a pseudonym, so that they’re not traced back to him directly.

connections: past

anyone he might have met through the music scene; jungil often tagged along whenever his colleagues had a gig outside of the conservatory, so he would frequent most places where there was a live band, no matter the genre. his ‘guilty pleasure’ of sorts.  

people he met in seoul during his studies at the conservatory, not necessarily someone who studied along with him, but people in general! could have met at a bar, at a theater, via shared acquaintances, or even during the time he had his tattoo done.

one of his exes bc. why not. he’s had several. we’ll plot if we want them to have a turbulent past together or not! all exes are dated before his eventual nuptials with his last partner, and in present time he’ll be meeting them already divorced.

more tba

connections: present

‘his’ band, the jam theory, has regular gigs at both the oni café and the wheat barrel. jungil would inevitably come to learn a few faces and a few names. if your muse frequents these places, they might become friends or at least very friendly acquaintances!

jungil’s neighbors. jungil had soundproofed a room to practice in but the house is a little old, and he’s working on improving it. meantime, any of the neighbors might be able to hear in to his playing the cello. feel free to berate him for playing at 3 in the morning!

people he met through his job as a truck driver with the lumber mill.

....more tba

miscellaneous sol plots:

drinking contest.

he could have a private argument with someone about jam theory’s ill purpose

latenight radio show, anyone? could be between bands

jungil found a cat. a dog. a lost pet.

cookout!

*quaking in my boots* m-more…tba…

made it this far? thank you! drop your favorite emoji and i'll just belch out a random starter and we can freestyle it!

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝑻𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑵𝑬 .    (  a  collection  of  texting prompts.  feel free to change phrasing.  potentially mature content within.  )

[ TXT ] : why are you still awake?

[ TXT ] : hey, where did you go?

[ TXT ] : it's getting bad again.

[ TXT ] : guess i'll just sit in bed. alone. by myself.

[ TXT ] : you can't ignore me forever.

[ TXT ] : i can't stop thinking about you.

[ TXT ] : just saw i called you last night. how'd that go?

[ TXT ] : i really need someone right now.

[ TXT ] : we need to make plans asap.

[ TXT ] : have you seen the news?

[ TXT ] : you were blackout drunk.

[ TXT ] : testing to see if you blocked my number...

[ TXT ] : do you know anything about doing stitches?

[ TXT ] : just please let me know you're okay.

[ TXT ] : did you forget we had plans?

[ TXT ] : i know you see my messages, your read receipts are on.

[ TXT ] : meet me at [ location ], it's important.

[ TXT ] : do you need comfort, to vent, or a solution?

[ TXT ] : is there anything i should bring?

[ TXT ] : call me. please, it's important.

[ TXT ] : i can't sleep.

[ TXT ] : have you eaten today?

[ TXT ] : you are always going to be my priority.

[ TXT ] : i haven't seen you around in awhile.

[ TXT ] : i had a dream about you last night.

[ TXT ] : the names are gonna get mean if you don't text me back.

[ TXT ] : at the risk of sounding cliche, what are you wearing?

[ TXT ] : just say the word and i'll drop everything.

[ TXT ] : do you seriously not remember?

[ TXT ] : come to the front door.

[ TXT ] : have you been drinking?

[ TXT ] : how do you feel after last night?

[ TXT ] : are you up? please be up.

[ TXT ] : you looked beautiful today.

[ TXT ] : i have so much to tell you.

[ TXT ] : no one's heard from you. are you okay?

[ TXT ] : who is this?

[ TXT ] : are you taking care of yourself?

[ TXT ] : thought i'd reach out and see how you're doing.

[ TXT ] : i miss the taste of your lips.

[ TXT ] : that kiss was really nice.

[ TXT ] : stop acting so high and mighty.

[ TXT ] : i left my [ item ] at your place.

[ TXT ] : are we still fighting?

[ TXT ] : i need help and i can't go to the hospital.

[ TXT ] : are you thinking about me too?

[ TXT ] : call me, i wanna hear your voice.

[ TXT ] : i don't want to talk to you.

[ TXT ] : what do you have to lose?

[ TXT ] : you don't have to ask, i'm already on my way.

[ TXT ] : i want to take a nap on you.

[ TXT ] : even if you called 6 months later at 3am, i'd answer.

[ TXT ] : what's my name in your phone?

[ TXT ] : how's trying to forget about me going?

[ TXT ] : i have nobody else to ask.

[ TXT ] : what do you mean you're at the hospital??

[ TXT ] : sorry, i think you have the wrong number.

[ TXT ] : good morning! you up yet?

[ TXT ] : do i sense sarcasm in your tone?

[ TXT ] : you start your day at 2pm?

[ TXT ] : you need MY help?

[ TXT ] : stop texting me.

[ TXT ] : i'll leave that up to your imagination.

[ TXT ] : are you asking me to sneak out?

[ TXT ] : when will i see you again?

[ TXT ] : if you come over, i'll order us a pizza.

[ TXT ] : are we ever going to talk about it?

[ TXT ] : can you come get me out of here?

[ TXT ] : you mean like ... a BODY - body?

[ TXT ] : it's just been one thing after another lately.

[ TXT ] : forgiving and forgetting is harder than it sounds.

[ TXT ] : i want your legs wrapped around my head.

[ TXT ] : call me when you wake up.

[ TXT ] : what are you doing that's more important than me?

[ TXT ] : i'm out of town right now.

[boynextdoors]