immortality,

[12fools]

wonwoo & the camera ft. a sleeping seokmin

[stlwonwoo-blog]

@stminjae​

there is a bench, chipping away at the edges, situated somewhere between the vast expanse of dongjak and seungdong that overlooks the dark stretch of murky water that is the han river. it is an innocuous little thing, situated at the edge of a park wonwoo has never worked up the effort to explore, and, somehow, he finds himself curled up in its decaying grasps once or twice a week without fail. 

from over the rim of his glasses, wonwoo’s gaze flickers distantly over the barely there difference in the gaps between two identical railings, his sleep-deprived mind cataloguing every small crack, every overlooked nuance with a resounding clarity that leaves the witch’s overworked mind at ease. it’s a silly little ritual, he thinks, curled up with his chin tucked over a crooked knee as the river flows slowly past him, just past the railings. 

the moon dips low tonight as strangers pass by, grey-faced and forgettable like the moon itself - waning, he thinks vaguely, his fingers tracing the planes of his cheeks for a brief moment - and he can’t help but wonder what each person is thinking. or where each stranger is headed. if there is a purpose to their quick steps. lightly, wonwoo traces fingertips along the back of the bench, gaze flickering back towards the bright sheen of moonlight glinting off the water’s surface, turning the inky darkness silver.

humming softly, he drops his feet back down until they’re skirting the concrete, relaxing into the seat until there is the finicky sensation of eyes on him.

[stlwonwoo-blog]

ww&sk&jh !                            berlioz: wait for me! wait for me!                                          marie: me first! me first!                                                        toulouse: why should you be first?                                                              marie: 'cause i'm a lady. that's why.                                                 toulouse: [scoffs] you're not a lady.

[mingyust-blog]

lait fraise

[mingyust-blog]

quickly yanking the door open, eyes flickering through the plethora (ten bottles, max) of different sizes, flavors, brands, before plucking a flashy colored bottle from the center rack. he turns it over once, twice in his palm as if studying a rare specimen. 

“this one is our best seller but I think its mostly the rabbit? something about him I guess you can’t say no to.” he chuckles. 

turning towards the visibly shaken patron, he nudges it with a crooked smile.

@mingyust·

[stlwonwoo-blog]

the low rumble of thunder sinks into his skin, understated but deep, in a way that leaves his slender fingers clenching into his cold palms very briefly. his sharp gaze, though, never strays from the assorted bottles lining the second row.. reaching tentative fingers out, he traces the tips against the cool stain of frosted glass before his palms settle around the handle. he feels - a little bit like a zombie, if he’s to be completely honest, staring at the display with a single-minded interest unparalleled by just about anything else. 

it isn’t a surprise that his state of narrow fixation keeps him suitably distracted from Impending Doom™ until it is right at his feet in the form of an innocuous red crate and a stranger who manages to somehow knock himself into the glass with enough force to rival the thunder outside ( a decidedly too-tall stranger, he thinks when the man manages to straighten up to full height - wonwoo is tall, okay. it’s his only redeeming trait, and he isn’t going to stand by and let someone else take his height advantage by just existing .) 

or, he would be thinking that if he could catch his breath. it’s a miracle he manages to form any coherent thought at all with his heart buried somewhere in his throat, beating at the tempo of a hummingbird’s wings. and how does he keep getting himself into a perpetual state of death by just existing. it would be in bad taste to go out being mowed down by speeding red crate or the boy ( on closer inspection, the stranger can’t be much older than wonwoo himself, if he’s even older at all. )

“um,” is his first audible remark, ever eloquent, as he drops his arms back down to his sides. ( in surprise, he’d somehow managed to clutch vice-like fingers into the fabric of his cardigan like some kind of scandalized victorian maiden somewhere between staring at the display and narrowly avoiding getting bowled over.  ) 

you’re not jeonghan hyung, he means to say aloud as his eyes leave the boy’s face to train onto the little character on the milk bottle. what he says instead is “i like the rabbit.” and, if the ground could please swallow him whole, that would be lovely.

[jjxhaneul-blog]

Silene Noeturna ;;

[jjxhaneul-blog]

“Can you talk to ‘them’? Or make it work without causing the end of the world? Because you’d be really cool” He isn’t sure if flattering will get him anywhere, but it’s worth the try if he wants to satisfy his curiosity.

@stbaekhyun·

[stlwonwoo-blog]

the board game perched innocuously between his fingertips seems to stare back up at him condescendingly, daring him to acquiesce to baekhyun’s request, and, oh, does he have a bad feeling about this. he consider’s the older male’s question for just a beat, grimacing slightly at the campy faux-ancient scripts littering its cardboard surface. 

“it’s a real board game.” he punctuates the final words by dropping the box to the floor, nudging it closer to the other’s crossed legs with his sock-clad toes. “it’s just a toy to scare teenagers, hyung. there’s no way it’s going to work.” and yet, wonwoo doesn’t even want to touch the thing. but, then again, wonwoo is decidedly disaster-prone, and, if anyone is going to awaken some vengeful spirit in the night via an american mass-produced board game, it would be wonwoo - well, wonwoo ,and his equally danger-prone hyung.

he makes a face at the other’s blatant flattery, but he perks up, raising his head higher with a sniff. “i’m already cool,” he manages, even as he realizes he’s pulling the board and assorted tools from their box. “honestly, a regular seance would bode better than this. or good, old-fashioned necormancy - which i don’t recommend. i doubt this is going to actually work.”

despite the certainty his words imply, wonwoo is anything but, and he is even less so when the wooden board and matching planchette are set out between them, though his tone is light when he finally responds. “it’s made by hasbro, inc. like - the madmen behind furby. does that not deter you even a little?”

[stlwonwoo-blog]

❝ cunning fire

[etckhh-blog]

Jeonghan goes into his kitchen and pulls the pills from the cabinet, making a face as he does so because they smell awful and make him dizzy just by scent alone. He covers his mouth and nose with his hand. “They stink. Really really bad. I still take them and they work sometimes before getting me really sick after a few hours.” he says, holding him out to the younger. “What even are they?”

@stjeonghan·

[stlwonwoo-blog]

wonwoo is light on his feet and agile, quick to follow at his hyung’s discretion, though, if the witch manages to drop a few assorted bottles in his haste (plastic may not be aesthetically pleasing, but, damn, was it more practical than glass vials), no one is there to judge him. actively. he barely misses a beat at the first comment, though his brows do  furrow, nose slightly scrunched at the thought. “still your favourite witch though,” he echoes the older male’s words confidently, more a pointless affirmation of his loyalties than anything else.

he pauses, a fit of calm amongst the magical clutter that has become jeonghan’s living room floor, before giving a light nod, lips slightly parted in recognition. “ah,” is his ever-eloquent response, sharp gaze from behind wire rimmed frames flickering over lengthening tendrils of hair curiously. “that would be it.” involuntarily, he traces slender fingers through his own mess of dark hair, the nails skimming along his scalp in consideration. he’s suddenly very conscious of the fact that his own life is at an impasse while his two friends are out changing, growing - learning new things about themselves and about the world around them - while wonwoo is still the same cardigan-toting wizard’s apprentice.

“it looks nice, hyung.” he adds, tone soft in a way he reserves only for his hyungs and, even then, only in those genuine reprieves that were few and far between. it’s low and half exhaled but, intrinsically, wonwoo knows that jeonghan can hear it. 

lightly, he knocks at the bridge of his glasses, nudging the frames further up his nose as the other male returns, his dark gaze training immediately on the pills in question. they aren’t immediately familiar, but the witch is aware enough of intermediate potions that the term suppressants comes to the forefront of his mind, unwarranted. lightly, he reaches out for the pills, inspecting the single tablet carefully between meticulous fingertips before he drops it into the small mortar sitting innocuously in front of his crossed legs, lip caught between teeth in concentration. “i have a few guesses...”

[visual-17]

Even he was sick he looks so beautiful 💔

[connotativewords]

If either one of us is bound to get hurt from this, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that it won’t be you.

Connotativewords | jl | Sacrifice 

[jeonwoof]

[stlwonwoo-blog]

jeonwoof:

jeon wonwoo can’t keep up with the fans and being extremly cute ©

My only talent is breathing

[connotativewords]

And sometimes I still fuck that up

[stlwonwoo-blog]

❝ cunning fire

[etckhh-blog]

"My favorite witch,” Jeonghan chirped, taking some of the peculiar items from his younger friend as well as the pastry straight from his mouth, taking a bite out of it with it with total disregard. “Come in- sorry my books are everywhere,” he invited, smiling wide as he moved the door and himself out of the way.

@stjeonghan·

[stlwonwoo-blog]

wonwoo is two beats away from dropping his assorted tinctures when the door thankfully opens, and a familiar face skirts out over his bags. he hadn’t quite grasped the extent of missing the other male before he sees jeonghan’s face from a metre off, but the moment the older snatches up the pastry, wonwoo remembers that seungkwan hyung has always been his favourite. ( he doesn’t think he can choose a favourite hyung, but the decidedly petty side of his brain fluctuates depending on the situation. and, right now, seungkwan isn’t the one with his danish. )

he toes off his trainers at the door, careful not to trip over the incline in his sock clad feet, and he finally takes a moment to let his gaze wander. “the only witch you know,” he quips back, the words familiar on his tongue. “but i’ll take it.” he shifts again, carefully placing his bags onto the nearest vacant few squares of space before he turns to settle his gaze on his companion thoughtfully. 

he only manages a quipped hyung before he settles back on wordless gestures, making vague patterns with his fingers by his temples. “something’s different about - something.” he wrinkles his nose slightly, frustrated by his inability to grasp the finer details before it clicks, and he leans forward in awe. “oh, hyung. your hair.” he offers after a beat of intense staring that wonwoo knows would be uncomfortable to just about anyone else.

“alright, doctor watson, where are these mystery pills of yours? i’m here and ready to sherlock holmes these bad boys.” and he might look a tad bit silly in cat socks waving the handle of a strawberry-themed enameled pot, but they are here to conduct serious magic.

[jjxhaneul-blog]

Silene Noeturna ;;

"Isn’t that the thing? Up there. The cardboard thing with the letters.” He can’t see shit, really, not with the amount of things stacked up there and he’d offer a helping hand if he was feeling OCD. He isn’t. Not his junk anyway. 

@stbaekhyun 

[stlwonwoo-blog]

wonwoo is resolutely not pouting. he’s scowling, if anything, or brooding, or something equally intense. either way, he is absolutely not pouting. from his perch on the low block of wood, his head tucked into the darkness of one of the living room cupboards ( searching the same one for the monopoly board for maybe the sixth time ), he can’t catch baekhyun’s face. he doesn’t exactly need to, though, when the conceit is dripping from his tone by the bucketful.

had he tossed it? his brows furrow a bit in the darkness as he attempts to recall their previous game night, and his lips press together thoughtfully. he remembers losing fairly spectacularly, but wonwoo isn’t that pitiful. probably. maybe. ( but the battleship should always be the winner, damnit. ) 

“those three rounds in jail were the most merciful yet. at least i couldn’t rack up a debt in jail,” he mumbles, pulling his head out of the cupboard when the other’s words finally register, and he blinks dark eyes at his companion from above the wired rims of his glasses. “what - cardboard?” he blinks, leaning over on the step-stool at the mess of miscellaneous garbage he’s accumulated over the three years he’s lived on his own.  

“um,” is his first response, low and uncertain as he makes to step off his makeshift step-stool, his dark eyes still trained warily on the child’s board game. “someone bought it for me as a joke. the ouija board or whatever.” he wiggles his fingers for effect, wrinkling his nose at baekhyun in feigned distaste. it is probably excruciatingly embarrassing how afraid he is of a board game marketed at stupid teenagers when he, a witch, can intentionally summon astral beings with enough practice. 

[stlwonwoo-blog]

❝ cunning fire

@stjeonghan

wonwoo only feels the slightest tinge of embarrassment as he lugs an armful of paper bags down the high energy streets of gwanak. it’s a perilous trek made even more so with his single-minded determination and insistence on spontaneity. this has been a long time coming, and the light pastry he has clamped between his teeth does very to sate his hunger for knowledge. ( it is quite blatantly the most compelling trait of geumsaseum, his master once remarked upon finding wonwoo tucked into a valley of books, the tip of his nose embedded into the spine of one in his sleep. the thought flickers over his memories only briefly before he continues on. )

his arms are mostly full of assorted elixirs and potions, most of which are wholly unnecessary and all of which were snagged from geumsaseum’s lower chambers. he’s far too excited to feel guilty about it, but the curiosity that washes over him in rivulets, and he makes an attempt to heft the bags just that bit further. wonwoo has to remind himself that he is geumsaseum as much as his master is, and he will be more of geumsaseum than the eccentric wizard himself will continue to be. it’s all his for the taking.

( wonwoo remembers his hyung’s offhanded request a few weeks ago, something about magical inclinations and werewolves, and the witch had been immediately hooked on the idea. smitten. he wants to say he’d been surprised at the reveal, but even a masqueraded ( and admittedly practical ) human jeonghan had been more eccentric than wonwoo regardless. )

wonwoo only manages to trip up two steps in his haste, an accomplishment if he’s ever heard of any, before he’s staring at the vaguely familiar door and reaching to rap a free knuckle across the ot, the pastry still perched between his teeth.

[herces-deactivated20160827]

-- tea time

[herces-deactivated20160827]

Drinking tea alone? She thought it was nice to be with others, but maybe for just this situation it was a good thing in the man’s opinion. She looked around to see that it was quite empty and back up at the man. “I promise to be quiet.” She stated with a grin, noticing that the male liked the aura of silence around the tea shop.

@stcora·

[stlwonwoo-blog]

he watches the blonde girl settled down at the table for a brief moment longer, contemplating the attentive though painfully timid set to her cherubic features, and the corners of his lips twitch, inevitably fond of the stranger despite himself. its timidity of blatant in the set of her features, yet she determinedly maintains eye contact with him as he speaks, and the simple juxtaposition of it has him laughing softly under his breath as he backs away again towards the counter.

“you definitely don’t have to stay quiet, yeah? i’m quiet enough that i’m certain the teahouse itself is tired of me,” he quips back easily, already busy brewing his own cup, some amalgamation of white tea leaves, dry rose petals, and just enough cinnamon bark, as he waits for her to order. it’s a simple enough task, he muses, especially when he doesn’t perform any ceremony with the gusto of his female counterparts. he hums at the fragrant, body uncoiling on itself instinctively at the floral scent, and he drops his chin into his palm at the counter in wait.

[mingyust-blog]

lait fraise

“I’ll be with you in just a second!” he bellows a bit too loud, as he glances over his shoulder.

@mingyust·

[stlwonwoo-blog]

there’s liquid lightning dancing just under his skin, the magic tingling at his very fingertips in rivulets of electricity, and he’s utterly restless. stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, wonwoo allows his gaze to wander the darkened streets surrounding, along rows of alleyways, and it doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s wandered off track in his restive state and has managed to fall a few districts away from home. these are the kinds of nights that leave him breathless with unease, tumultuous magic thrumming just under his skin, the energy stagnant and utterly interchangeable with the current weather itself. and its these nights that he finally understands his master’s vaguely sympathetic expression all those years ago.

even this far from the urban center of seoul and in the brink of utter darkness ( his phone flashes back  that it is just shy of two in the morning when he checks for the seventh time in just as many minutes ), there are no stars in the night sky, but the interspersed flashes of lightning behind soft clouds unaccompanied by thunder has him in rapt attention at the skies.

he half stumbles, knocking into another solid human ( he thinks,anyway ) body, and the entire point of contact from left shoulder down towards the cleft of his collar burns with suppressed magic, fighting to lash back. it’s a group of men, intoxicated men, he observes once his vision clears enough through the haze. they give him little more than a cursory glance before they’ve started back up their raucous laughter in stride, arms thrown over one another to keep themselves upright, and his nose scrunches a bit in distaste before his gaze flickers towards the bright glass windows from where they’d stumbled from.

ah, he muses, noncommittal but utterly unsurprised by this point as his subconscious destination. he observes the doorway of the convenience store for only the briefest of moments before he sighs and resigns himself to entering. he can do with a few sweets. the words he hears as he enters startle him slightly, and he whirls around in search of the increasingly familiar voice. wonwoo is quick to give up when he doesn’t readily spot the hapless graveyard shift employee in question and heads to the milk section instead. “no - um - take your time,” he calls back, dark gaze focused on the display of coloured milks in single-minded interest.

[joshuahonq]

they’re better off without you

[stsoojung-deactivated20160715]

❝ cuddles & clings galore — jsj & jww

[stsoojung-deactivated20160715]

"i’ll get off after the soup is done, pinky promise! just take this as an opportunity to practice your balancing and multi-tasking. this might actually come handy in the future! and then who will you have to thank for that? me.” 

@stsoojung

[stlwonwoo-blog]

"i’d say i appreciate the hands on practice, but i have a feeling toting a wiggling pixie while trying not to burn down my entire kitchen won’t count in my resume,” his words are drawled in his perpetually low tone, though the amusement is evident, even under the strain of exertion. wonwoo isn’t weak, per se, the innocuousness of his loose jumpers and cardigans be damned, but he is also self aware enough to realize he isn’t exactly strong either. he shifts slightly, turning his face to nip at the offending finger against his cheek in a vaguely threatening way (that probably looks more lethargic than anything else) 

“you know good and well heating up soup is a feat neither one of us can do on a good day.” he adds between one breath and the next, though he honestly isn’t certain he is willing to let the girl down, especially with the spectacle from earlier. wonwoo still doesn’t quite understand the logistics behind that one, but the emotions breaking across sharp features had left him in a tizzy himself, more panicked than usual.

clutching at the counter as he reaches over for a wooden ladle is a feat in and of itself, but, once he gives one final stir of the soup, wonwoo feels inexplicably accomplished, and, if that isn’t a testament to the little wonders of his life, than nothing is. he needed goals, damnit. his teeth flash briefly and his tone is teasing when he finally responds. “you know, you are the only person in probably my entire life who has ever called me comfortable. you know, noona, i’m beginning to doubt your state of sanity more and more every day.”