#misotakeme

[tridvm-blog]

cliff’s edge :

@misotakeme

it was never supposed to go that far. the idea was to get yugyeom to apologise, and plaster the truth over the same platform where he slandered jennie. sticky maples weren’t part of the plan, and chaeyeon didn’t want to think about how long she’d been pouring the syrup down, or what it was, exactly, that she said in the heat of the moment. now her legs were simply submerged in the cool water of the swimming pool, a little away from the jacuzzi that yugyeom had just been let out of,

and the wig had never felt more suffocating, so she took it off in haste, and let it down on the side, staring at a watery reflection and knowing that this definitely was not chaeyeon. ( god only knew how much she wanted to be herself instead of her sister. -- she tried not to think about how jieun was like before she was sent away. )

with a sigh, she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the water, on her knees, “can i stay the night?” it was a meek question; different from how she was earlier. different. back to normal, normal, normal. boring. “is that -- i mean -- i don’t...think i want to be alone tonight. if that’s okay.”

[tridvm-blog]

my brain said no don’t do that :

@misotakeme

chaeyeon couldn’t keep pretending that it didn’t bother her. that would be a grave sin on its own, and it was unfair to jennie to be used like this. granted, her friend’s willingness to play along could be construed as something else, but chaeyeon didn’t want to entertain that idea, because it couldn’t possibly be true. jennie had better taste than that, and besides, chaeyeon’s future was always with taeyong, no matter how foolish they could both be. girls like jennie -- though she knew that her friend wanted to change from that kind of girl -- were adventurous, sure, and chaeyeon didn’t want to be used, either.

it was for self-preservation, and for their own good, that she urged jennie to follow her to the lockers. once she made sure they were alone, she faced her friend, her back against one of the lockers, palms squeezed between herself and the metal.

“we...need to talk,” she told her friend, like some well-rehearsed line. she didn’t spend countless hours alone in bed thinking about this for no reason. it was now or never. “about....that night -- we need to talk...” her voice broke a little at the end, and she cleared her throat, embarrassed to sound so weak, even now. “i’ve been thinking about it...” you, i’ve been thinking about you so much, “and i think it’d be better if...that never happened again.”

[figliciouss]

Artist: MISO Song: Take Me

[scvllas]

TAKE ME AWAY

she’s never asked to be extraordinary. but often times having a choice in asking is a privilege in itself. and though esther had been blessed with the likes of a (formerly) happy, healthy family, she had never had the privilege in being able to choose. if anything, her childhood revolved around decisions driven purely by what her mother wanted—ballet lessons? sure. violin? why not? neatly buttoned blouses and polished mary janes? alright—of course that’s what being the youngest meant, young pliable youth, pitiful youth. 

it’s no wonder she cracked under mother’s hopes and expectations.

but whether her mother had wished it or not—this was the kind of extraordinary she wound up as. not a ballet prodigy (despite sprained ankles and broken toes), not a violinist (despite calloused fingers and tendon pain), not even a wife candidate to eligible bachelors (oh, she never stood a chance for that one)—rather, delicate little (she’d snort, no matter how hard her mother tried to push it—she’s never been delicate) esther now is nothing but a freak with the capability of moving things with her mind.

and mother? well, mother is nowhere to be seen now isn’t she.

funny how things turn out, huh?

“hey.” accent heavy, esther nearly cringes from the thickness of mother tongue seeping through as she plops herself down beside the wayward boy—wayward, because she doesn’t trust eyes she can’t see. god only knows what he’s focusing on when they’re speaking. “glasses—”  she shifts, tugging the frame down the bridge of his nose slightly with her power.

“spill. do i look extra good in red or what?”

@misotakeme

[dreamschased]

          ☆ﾟ. * · 。ﾟ @misotakeme​​ // the second week on the job, and walker couldn’t be more bored. in the beginning, he found it the slightest bit nostalgic to roam the halls of a high school that resembled so much of his own, to witness the differences between the generational gap with those who were only ( in all honestly ) a few years younger than him. but now? he’d never wished he was a student himself more than ever before.

          maybe it was the fact that he was still getting used to the whole idea of being the ‘ teacher ‘ and not the ‘ teached ‘ after so long in academia ( or the fact that, at the end of the day, teaching was not the thing he wanted to be doing for the rest of his life ) that had him entering the entrance of the school building more pessimistic than not ... and lonely. did he forget lonely? surrounded by those who were either too young or too old for him, it wasn’t rare for him to spend most of his days holed up in the classroom he called his for the next couple of days.

          ... or, at least, that was the case until he happened to stroll past a nearby room with a certain unfamiliar female sitting at the desk. ( sure, he didn’t know every face and name that roamed the hallways of the high school, but he sure as hell knew that there wasn’t another twenty-something in the vicinity---until now, that is. ) he had spent a whole two minutes pacing back and forth outside the classroom door before he mustered up the courage to knock on the wooden surface and hesitantly peek his head in.

       “um ... hi,” he started. “i was just wondering if you wanted someone to eat lunch with?”