ya'll can suck a fat dick. you suck ass at running a roleplay. no wonder it died with clichy ass mfers like you runnin shit. go ahead and delete this without responding, pussy ass cowards
ALRIGHT FRIENDS, let’s talk about a thing I like to call BASIC HUMAN DECENCY. I don’t know how many people still follow this blog or check the dash, but I can’t let this slide. This shit is SO far out of line and whoever sent it should be fucking ashamed of themselves. What the hell gives you the right to talk to a person like this just because you didn’t agree with a couple of decisions made?
Were the admins perfect? No, and I’m sure they’d be the first to admit that. In fact I disagreed with some of the decisions that were made and how certain things were handled, and made no secret of that. But they don’t owe you shit, and they certainly don’t deserve to be spoken to like this. Nobody was forcing you to stay. If this is the sort of thing they’ve had to deal with I can’t blame the for acting the way they have. I don’t know who you are, but you were one of the problems with this group. You sit around calling them toxic and then start spitting this absolute bile? Fuck off. Seriously, fuck off.
In the past I’ve been in a very similar position, taking over an rp with a community that wasn’t the most active (And for the record, I don’t think that a slow moving dash is a problem) and has certain toxic members. It ain’t easy, and the amount of effort that was put it deserves, if nothing else, respect. Messages like this tanked my mental health and pushed me to a very dark place. WORDS HAVE IMPACT. As much as you’d love to paint them as devils, they’re people and should be spoken to as such you absolute cretin.
People like you are the problem with this damn community. And if you don’t like being spoken to like that, don’t speak to others like it. Sort your life out you absolute fucking dickhead.
Rant over. Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.
Hey everyone, so I’m sad to say that I’m after thinking about it for a few weeks I’m going to be severing ties with Wonyang. Hopefully this doesn’t look like I’m just jumping on the bandwagon, because this was FAR from a snap decision. As a member from week two I’m really sad to go and to leave everyone behind, but after everything that has happened (and with the group more or less over activity wise anyway) I no longer feel particularly welcome or like there’s a place for me or my guys here.
I’ve lost the password to my original indie, but I’ve created a new one at @in-losersclvb which will be revamped at some point this week and will follow everyone posting their own indies over there. Jihun, Jaebeom and Chuanchen will be on there with a few tweaks as well as a whole bunch of other characters, so if anyone wants to carry on threads or continue writing please let me know!! For those who don’t know it already, my Discord is alexmcrw#7717 and you can reach me there pretty much whenever, so keep in touch!!
This blog will be left as is for archival purposes, but feel free to unfollow.
I hope that I’ll cross paths with some of you again in the future, but if this is the last time then it’s been a blast. Pretty much everyone I’ve met has been amazing and I’ve loved writing with you all, so thank you so much for your patience. I’ve not always been the best RP partner, but y’all putting up with my awkwardness and nonsense has meant a lot.
Hey everyone, so I’m sad to say that after thinking about it for a few weeks I’m going to be severing ties with Wonyang. Hopefully this doesn’t look like I’m just jumping on the bandwagon, because this was FAR from a snap decision. As a member from week two I’m really sad to go and to leave everyone behind, but after everything that has happened (and with the group more or less over activity wise anyway) I no longer feel particularly welcome or like there’s a place for me or my guys here.
I’ve lost the password to my original indie, but I’ve created a new one at @in-losersclvb which will be revamped at some point this week and will follow everyone posting their own indies over there. Jihun, Jaebeom and Chuanchen will be on there with a few tweaks as well as a whole bunch of other characters, so if anyone wants to carry on threads or continue writing please let me know!! For those who don’t know it already, my Discord is alexmcrw#7717 and you can reach me there pretty much whenever, so keep in touch!!
This blog will be left as is for archival purposes, but feel free to unfollow.
I hope that I’ll cross paths with some of you again in the future, but if this is the last time then it’s been a blast. Pretty much everyone I’ve met has been amazing and I’ve loved writing with you all, so thank you so much for your patience. I’ve not always been the best RP partner, but y’all putting up with my awkwardness and nonsense has meant a lot.
Are they even interested in the Yule Ball? Do they have a partner in mind to ask, or perhaps already invited somebody?
The Yule Ball is definitely not the kind of event that Jihun enjoys, though as a professor (And thus by default chaperone) he has to at least try to display some passing interest interest. His involvement with the organisation and running of the evening is minimal and often begrudging, and at the first opportunity he’ll be leaving.
Back when he was a student he was in one of the delegations sent to another school for the tournament and opted to completely skip the ball. In his mind it was, and still is, an exercise in pomposity that is designed simply to allow the more privileged students a chance to show off. He was tempted to attend and cause some chaos, but eventually decided against it
Is your muse quick to step forward to volunteer to dance? Can they dance well or do they have two left feet? Or are they remained seated, watching everyone from afar?
Jihun is a very reluctant dancer, but not totally averse to the idea. He’s not very skilled and is kind of embarrassed by that. Though he’s not as cold or bitter, he still tries to avoid displaying any weaknesses, no matter how ridiculous or insignificant they may be. If you’re exceptionally persuasive, or someone important to him though he could be convinced. Just try not to expect too much.
Do they have “hand me down” robes/dresses or perhaps have one specially made?
The robes that Jihun will be wearing on the night were specifically tailored and made to his specification. Though they aren’t especially extravagant, they do come with a hefty price tag. Hand me downs do not really exist within his family, and he cannot ever recall owning a piece of second had clothing, so buying new was his only option.
Are they likely to be the center of the dance floor, hanging out alone at a table, or perhaps trying to spike the punch to get the party started?
As in the classroom Jihun will be acting firmly but fairly, trying to uphold order and stop things descending into chaos without being overbearing. He’ll likely be stalking the edges of the hall overseeing things, watching the punch like a hawk to ensure that nobody tampers with it and dealing with anyone who takes things a little too far.
Has their dancing improved since the dance class? Do they prefer the traditional/classic dances or put their hands in the air like they just don’t care?
Jihun was teaching the dance class for the Ilvermorny students, and let me tell you, it was a hot damn mess. As someone with all the rhythm of a baked potato he was far from the ideal teacher, but he was the only one of the limited number of professors available willing to bite the bullet. His dance skills have not improved over the years, and he’s fairly certain that he’s made his students considerably worse.
For Years 5 and above, what is your Patronus? [ Definition Link ] [ Pottermore]
Jihun’s Patronus manifests as a crow. A representation of his dauntlessness and resourcefulness. Initially he resented it due to the creature’s association with darker areas of magic, however over time he has grown to accept it.
What is your muse’s love interest’s Amortentia aroma? [ Definition Link ] [List of examples ]
Freshly printed ink, campfire smoke, leather and strong black coffee
What is your Boggart? [ Definition Link]
His boggart takes the form of his mother,, cold and disappointed rather than fiery and raging.
What are your magical strengths? Weaknesses?
His strength lies in Potions, hence why he now teaches the subject, but he is also skilled in Charms and DaDA. He tended not apply himself when a student and barely scraped passing marks through most of his classes. Divination is also, as far as he is concerned, superstitious nonsense and the textbooks are not worth the paper they’re written on.
Are they even interested in the Yule Ball? Do they have a partner in mind to ask, or perhaps already invited somebody?
Though he’s unlikely to admit it out of fear of judgement, Jaebeom is very interested in the ball. He hasn’t got a partner as of yet, nor does he have anyone specific in mind. Even if he did, it would take a lot for him to work up the courage to be the one to ask.
Though he really does want to find someone to go with because he’s too embarrassed and awkward to go solo and doesn’t want to miss the night.
He can see how overblown the event is likely to be, and loves the spectacle of it all. Call him sappy, but he also loves the way that it seems to change the vibe in the air, especially amongst the older students who are ordinarily floundering under the pressure of their NEWTs. He’s all about peace and love, and those are pretty much the focal points of the night.
Is your muse quick to step forward to volunteer to dance? Can they dance well or do they have two left feet? Or are they remained seated, watching everyone from afar?
Jaebeom’s eagerness to dance does not match his ability level. Though he has the basic steps of most classical dances just about nailed, he’s still far from the best that the school has to offer. As above he’s unlikely to be the one to ask, but he’d agree in a heartbeat.
Are butterflies fluttering in their stomach well in advance for the big night or will their confidence guide them?
Somewhere between the two. Jaebeom is hoping that his confidence will guide him through and stop him making a fool of himself, but as the day approaches the butterflies only seem to become more frantic.
Is your muse attending? Do they officially have a date, ended up going single, or perhaps snagging a date at random during the Ball?
His attendance is still undecidided. He’s certain that he wants to go, but sees the night as one to be spent in a couple or with friends. With most of his friends already coupled up and no date on the horizon he’s reluctant to act as a third wheel and is debating skipping it and spending the night alone in the Hufflepuff common room sulking and being generally sad.
Do they have “hand me down” robes/dresses or perhaps have one specially made?
If he does attend, the robes that Jaebeom will wear are second hand, passed down from his father. They were initially kind of ratty, but he’s spent the past few weeks patching them up o the down low, and they are only now at a presentable standard. Nothing extraordinary about them, though perhaps a little dated and a little loose fitting.
Are they likely to be the center of the dance floor, hanging out alone at a table, or perhaps trying to spike the punch to get the party started?
When he’s on his own you’ll likely find Jaebeom at the edges of the room, quietly perched on the ends of a bench. As much as he enjoys the idea of dances, he doesn’t really have a clue about the etiquette or what he’s supposed to be doing, so he’d probably be feeling and acting a little awkwardly to begin with.
Has their dancing improved since the dance class? Do they prefer the traditional/classic dances or put their hands in the air like they just don’t care?
Jaebeom went into the dance class with no prior knowledge or experience, and though he doesn’t have a natural talent for it, he’s considerably better now having received some instruction. He’s likely more comfortable outside of the traditional dances as there aren’t any rules that he has to stick to, but he can just about handle either.
Do they hang out near the end of the Ball to *wrock* out with their peers or turn in their dancing shoes early?
Peer pressure means that Jaebeom would almost definitely be sticking around until at least the conclusion of the dance, and depending on the group he’s with possibly even longer. In truth the answer to this question is wholly reliant on who he spends time with at the ball: if it’s a positive influence, he may leave early. If it’s negative he probably won’t. He’s never been a believer in meticulously planning out a timeline of events, and would rather just follow the flow.
For Years 5 and above, what is your Patronus? [ Definition Link ] [ Pottermore]
Jaebeom’s Patronus manifests as a Bassett Hound
What is your muse’s love interest’s Amortentia aroma? [ Definition Link ] [List of examples ]
Freshly baked bread, sea air, Earl Grey tea and old books.
What is your Boggart? [ Definition Link ]
Jaebeom’s biggest fear is complete and utter loneliness, a pretty abstract fear, so I imagine that the Boggart would manifest as a column of impenetrable smoke that surrounds him, blocking all vision and sound.
What are your magical strengths? Weaknesses?
He is quite a gifted student and is skilled in quite a few areas. Herbology is perhaps his greatest strength alongside Charms, though he’s also proficient in Potions, and DaDA. Though he hasn’t continued his studies to NEWT level, he also has an affinity for Care of Magical Creatures. More theoretical subjects such as Magical Runes or Divination are completely beyond his grasp.
Do you have plans for a future career in a magical field?
The plan as of right now is to follow the career path of some kind of healer, eventually ending up at St Mungos.
♛ — Taeyong had been in need of a new scene, new environment. The bars he normally went to were crowded and noisy and his brain simply couldn’t deal with all the noise today. It’d been pure chance that the Calypso had been his bar of choice this evening, he hadn’t known his old house guest had worked there. Normally he kept up with him, but he hadn’t wanted to spy on the other.
♛ — ❝What a pleasant surprise running into you.❞ Taeyong greets the other with a smile, warm and genuine for the other. He had had to force the other from his home- tough love- but that did not mean he didn’t care about how the other turned out. Should he ever end up homeless again, he would take him back into his home to keep him off the streets.
♛ — He gives a hum in thought. ❝Whiskey, neat. The best this place has, please.❞
It’s certainly a surprise, though Chuanchen is unlikely use the word pleasant quite so readily as the other. Unexpected perhaps, but pleasant? He’s not so sure. At least not yet. This job has taught him that it’s better to suppress such negativity though, and so he forces himself to reciprocate the smile (though admittedly not quite as warm) before turning his back and begins scanning bottles in the dim light.
“Really though, it’s been a while. Didn’t expect to see you in some Songcheon dive bar.” He calls over his shoulder, glass clinking glass as he finally finds the bottles he’s been searching for nestled in the back. “How are things? Must be pretty dire if you’ve ended up here of all places.”
A measure of amber glugs into the glass, settling at the bottom before it’s pushed across the bar. “Hope you weren’t expecting too much.” He says flippantly, forcing another smile. “The best this place has is still far from good.”
The band was in the midst of performances for the Christmas Market, were practicing nonstop and recording songs for their first album, but despite how much time the group really spent around each other, Deryl hadn’t really gotten to know their guitarist too well outside of his name, that he could play a pretty mean guitar and that his style was… probably totally opposite of his own.
Being strangers to someone in a band he was fully committed to he wasn’t really okay with, so after one of their sessions was complete, laying down some instrumentals for one of the songs, Deryl managed to catch up with Chuanchen to grab a bite to eat. Maybe he could figure out a little more about this man. “Hey, we’re gonna go grab some food - my treat.”
Knockout had started as little more than a distraction for Chuanchen; a break from the mudanities of his new everyday life. He hadn’t joined hoping for massive success or attention, just as something to fill the hours that he’d otherwise spend sat stewing alone in his apartment. Music has always been very much a personal thing that is not shared, so adapting to the group dynamic had taken him some time but it seems as though he’s finally settling. It’s pretty clear however: this is not his band. He isn’t a driving creative force. He shows up, he plays what he’s told to play and he leaves. An entirely replacable cog in the machine. And he’s fine with that, for now at least. The spotlight still bears down regardless.
Perhaps it’s because he barely knows the other four that he shares both stage and studio with, and hasn’t made the effort to change that. But then it isn’t as though they’ve made much effort thus far either. Prior to joining they’d been little more than friends of friends of friends, and they’ve hardly become closer since. The atmosphere is always friendly of course, and comfortable enough, but for all intents and purposes it’s a room filled with four strangers and him. One day soon he’ll change that, once time is finally on his side and the roots are laid too deep to be simply tossed aside.
Having already said his goodbyes he’s about to leave, buried inside an expensive coat and facing down the bracing cold of the winter beyond the front door when the voice catches up. “We are?” He asks confused, slightly caught off guard and glancing down at the leather banded watch adorning his left wrist. There’s plenty of time before his shift and turning down free food was not something that he made a habit of, especially these days. “No objections here, I was gonna eat anyway. But what’s the catch?” In his experience there was almost always a catch.
The scoff that slipped from her throat, merely accidental couldn’t go unnoticed as her lips curved upwards, forming a wicked smile. If she’d gotten any further from amusement, she would have been called “crazy” for appearing hysterical. Just enough focus was provided for the woman to finish the sentence she’d been working on and then she stopped to gaze at her screen and then towards Jihun who’d obviously not had enough. But she liked it, sad to say. She enjoyed people who riled her up—people who gave her a reason to act as she always had: insufferable.
Minjung narrowed her eyes at him, her gaze like darts as they hit his face like a target. “I’m guessing you’re not doing any better since you’re sitting across from me, looking like a wet towel,” She retorted. “That smokes.” The last part was barely audible as her voice had trailed off long before she muttered her finishing remark. The woman, no matter how rebellious, could never find smoking attractive. In the midst of her youth, she’d naively tried it and nearly choked to death due to improper technique. The very thought of it shown through her facial features that wrinkled, her entire being withering with repulsion. There was no denying the man smelled like an ashtray.
“For someone who claims to hate me, you sure stick your nose in my business a lot.” Her words were sharp with a hint of playfulness dripping off them much like honey. “Just admit that you like me and go.” She was happy to get the upper hand with such timely teasing, however, the editor couldn’t stop the after effect. Minjung’s eyes barely widened and she moved a hand to cover her mouth briefly, the woman attempting to pass it off as a belch. Hopefully the other wouldn’t mistake her teasing remark for flirting–a brief image of her boyfriend’s irritable expression making rounds in her head. “Seriously.”
Their conversation has barely begun but already Jihun’s attention is elsewhere. The question, as accusatory and acerbic as it may have seemed, was asked as a show of courtesy more than anything else. A feeble attempt at avoiding a fight that he’d failed in the final moments Sitting around and keeping up the rally of insults or trading blows as they usually do would be entertaining, but he has more important things to be doing with his time. And so his focus is squarely on the layouts that cover his desktop, needing final approval before being sent to print.
Rather than immediately hitting back at the wet towel remark, he lets the sound of mouse clicks and keys fill the space between them. The comment is pretty harmless, by Minjung’s standards anyway, and in his eyes it’s barely worth the effort of biting back, so instead his gaze remains unbroken. Click. Click. Click. It’s taken him a long to figure it out, but silence can be just as effective a strategy as lacing words with the most potent venom available.
Despite his best efforts he can’t let that last comment pass by unchallenged. Again he knows that its harmless and likely custom designed just to get a reaction, but that hardly seems important. “Clearly you hold a very high opinion of yourself.” His tone is flat as he reaches up to push a few stray strands of still dripping hair behind his ear, glancing up with his usual cold glower for only the briefest fraction of a second before returning to work. “You’re an irritant, nothing more, nothing less. We’re only having this conversation because apparently even fleeing the city isn’t enough to escape your infernal bleating.”
A few more seconds of silence broken by the conversations of the other customers and the swift mechanical snapping of keys being tapped at a furious pace. Why the hell had that bothered him? He wonders, frown now forming on the face that had previously been an emotional void. Then answer is obvious, but there has to be some other reason. “Are you finished? Or do you want to carry on acting a child and talking like you’re still in the school yard?”
The simple tone of his voice earns him an exaggerated annoyed sigh accompanied by an eye roll. A manicured hand comes to rest on her hip as she starts to recompose herself, even though her breathing is still rather labored the woman tries her best to come back to what she believes is her true self. Her professional self. Falling slightly for a moment she lets the question hang in the air as she thinks over her options of how to approach this situation. Though it just feels bad as she cannot call her friend to calm her down, something she needed in his moment. “Listen.” The voice comes out full of annoyance with mild exhaustion. “I was – having a moment. Perfectly normal, I just couldn’t make it to my floor after handing some business down here, I honestly don’t understand how you all still have a floor, but that’s beside the point.” Gentle jabs were her defense when been cornered and at the moment she felt very much cornered and scared. “I decided to hop in the janitors closet - which I’m surprised to see you actually doing your job in here.” The woman let out a low chuckle before recrossing her arms to hide the fact her breath was picking back up - it was going to happen again unless she relaxed completely.
However, Eun-ji couldn’t leave after he witnessed that, no one could know about her moderate panic attacks that seemed to be getting rather more intense as of late. “You didn’t see anything anyways, there’s no proof of me coming in here so why should I worry if you do tell anyone. “ Another sigh falls from her lips as she runs her hands through her hair. Her outside image slowly fading as it was hard to keep up when your mind was racing. “I really don’t want anything from you.” her voice was rather cold and breathless. “I really don’t want to need anything from you ever.”
“And people say that I have an attitude problem... Not even going to bother pretending to play nice?” He could just leave it alone. He should just leave it alone. But he doesn’t. Perhaps it’s journalistic instinct that means has an intrinsic needs to find all of the answers to every question, or perhaps it’s her prickly tone that does nothing more than rile him up. Or it could just be that for once he feels one step ahead, sees a chance to knock down his competition, and his ruthless side has come to the fore. “You’re right, I didn’t see anything.” He says flippantly, glare unwavering as he leans back in his chair. “The CCTV saw you stumbling into my office though I’m sure, or perhaps someone on my staff noticed... whatever that was.”
Despite his attempts to repress it, the smirk that has been battling his features finally triumphs. Every instinct screams that there’s more to this scenario, and no matter how things play out, the outcome seems as though it will likely favour him. “Not that it matters.” That same air of disinterest as before lingers in his voice, each word dripping with apathy. “The rumour mill doesn’t need proof to churn out speculation. It’d be a real shame if people started talking, wouldn’t it? People might start wondering if you’re starting to crack or whether the pressure’s getting to you. Idle gossip can have such terrible consequences.”
This sort of passive aggression isn’t his usual style. Normally he’s a lot more blunt and direct, startling people into giving him what he wants or telling him what he needs to know. Cold and cutting rather than subtle and manipulative. But this situation called for a scalpel rather than a hammer; a more delicate touch would be much more efficient. “Ah, it’ll be fine I’m sure. Not like you have anything to hide.” A dismissive wave of his hand before he turns back to the screen sat on his desk emotionless. “Next time you have a “moment” though-” the words are punctuated by air quotations. “I’d suggest finding somewhere more private than the offices of the city newspaper. You know how journalists are, might want to do some digging, and I’d have no way of stopping them.”
“I know, I just…” He pauses, glancing over the other who’s now sitting up in his bed, his featured stretched into a grin. Kenji can’t bring himself to share the same excitement, his nerves getting the better of him. What good would it do to get excited only for Chai to reject him? That would absolutely crush him. No, it was best to not get too excited, not until he knows what the younger’s response will be.
“I’m nervous, okay?” He dramatically flops down on his bed, letting out a sigh in the process. “What if someone else already asked him, Jae? Or what if he just doesn’t want to go with me? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like me, like at all?” The questions come out as whines, a desperate look on the younger’s face as he looks over at his friend.
He considers the advice for a moment, though he has to admit, he was hoping for better advice. Not that he’s sure what other advice there is to give. Maybe what he’s actually hoping for is for the situation to get resolved on its own, without Kenji having to do anything. “How do I just ‘use my words’? You and I both know I’m not the best with words.” His features form into a pout. “A lot of bad things could happen, Jae! I could potentially lose the love of my life here!”
The amateur dramatics on display across the room make it near impossible for Jaebeom to suppress his amusement. Even as Kenji and his mattress collide with a dull thud and a sigh that sits on the border between melodrama and melancholy there is no wiping the beaming smile from his face. In all the years that he’s known Kenji, he’s never known him to light up like he does when talking about the Ravenclaw. Call him a romantic, call him sentimental: unless his friend does something truly absurd there’s only one way he can see events panning out.
Of course there’s also the fact that he has an unfortunate habit of living vicariously through others, and with his own attendance undecided this might have to suffice. But that’s besides the point.
“Well how else are you going to ask him? Through the medium of interpretive dance?” The statement is accompanied by a warm laugh and a flourish of the arm for added effect. The concerns are all entirely valid, but are glossed over. Given his current state, even begrudging acknowledgement that they’re based in reality could be enough to spook him and convince him to change his mind. Better to focus on the positive outcome. “OH!” He suddenly chirps up, face almost serious. “What about a howler? That way if things go horribly wrong you don’t have to be there to see it, and you can just avoid him until we graduate.”
The facade lasts all of twenty seconds before he bursts into a fit of giggle again. It’s a suggestion that’s only half serious, but really what had he been expecting? There is no reality where Jaebeom is more experienced in these matters or able to provide much in the way of salient advice. Still, he figures, he should at least try. And so he takes a moment to compose himself, eyes averted to the inky sky beyond the window in order to stop himself from cracking up once more. “Look, just try not to come on too strong and.... be real with him.” He says, voice softer and more sincere now. “If the kid has any sense, he’ll say yes. And if he doesn’t we can go stag and you can spend the night crying on my shoulder. You’ll regret it if you don’t ask him.”
Business partner. That doesn’t sit well. In fact it makes Jihun’s stomach churn. It’s probably the most accurate descriptor of their relationship, but it’s still profoundly unsettling to hear it said aloud. A man who screams about ethics and morals in the columns of his newspaper, who will openly berate the corrupt and dishonest working alongside a man who seems to be the antithesis of those ideals. The irony is biting.
It’s a necessary evil. That’s what he tells himself to get through nights like these. It’s the only reason that he can nod along feign interest in the often tedious conversations that fill the room, as well as field questions such as these that would usually be dismissed out of hand. Silence. Thee food on the plate remains completely untouched; in fact he has yet to so much as glance down at it. Instead he sits back in his seat wordlessly, eyes boring into the other as he tries to find the thread linking the questions and consider an appropriate response.
“Marriage is a fine thing if you can make it work. Men like you or I rarely can. ” He answers after a moment, hard gaze still fixed on the man opposite. It’s perhaps the most candid answer he can muster, and one that he whole-heartedly believes. Marriage is always a sore subject after the events that preceded his moving to Woyang. To say that he’s eager to move on to anything else would be an understatement, so the next words out of his mouth are almost reflexive and could be interpreted as far more combative than was intended. “But then it’s not my job to offer you advice on such matters. I’m just here to make sure that your name isn’t dragged through the mud by the press, nothing more.”
He feels an immediate sense of regret leaking through his veins, cerulean mazes that mapped out a terrifying adolescent peep on his lips but he nods as the other spoke. as the other continues, he couldn’t help but let a smirk tug at his corners, ❝ how kind of you. ❞ tone, as if mocking, a slight shiver itching it way up his spine, a sensation that irked him, perhaps a shadow that actively lurked close behind him, knife prepared and always ready to dig into his flesh. he moves on, as if no comments were made prior, ❝ i once… met this girl. i really liked her, but then she betrayed me, and… ❞ he leans forward, only slightly, ❝ …and then i slit her throat. ❞ a chuckle leaving him, crescents forming on his features, ❝ that’s a joke i tell people. ❞ twisted. his words were not merely that, they were threats, warnings to be taken seriously, now that his brother had returned to wonyang in such short notice with little to no information on him, jin was not aware of what unpredictable thing the older would get himself into. a sigh leaving his lips.
❝ now that christmas is nearing, have you any plans? ❞ attempting for further small talk, being civilised at its highest standard. prompting for such meaningless questions of conversation that could have so easily wisp by the sides of his ears. shoulders that weigh the possibility of standing up and leaving early or to continue this charade of happy dining.
For the briefest flash of a second his confidence falters, usual bluster replaced by trepidation and mild horror. The meaning of words is dictated by tone, something that Jihun understands better than most having spent almost twelve years learning how to manipulate them, and Jin’s flippant tone is enough to send a chill down his spine. It’s as if the temperature in the room drops as the exact moment that he delivers the punchline that is quite clearly nothing more than a veiled threat. As time passes one thing becomes increasingly clear: he’s in over his head. Dealing with wolves on Wall Street and sharks in Washington is nothing compared to the dragons of Wonyang
“Perhaps you just have poor taste in friends. Or in women.” Jihun shrugs with a half hearted half smile, sipping at his water in an attempt to regain his composure. Subtle jibes are perhaps not the most intelligent move, but the words come instinctively. By now the idle chatter of the others gathered around the table is completely tuned out, nothing more than white noise buzzing in the background. If he’d wanted the dinner to be over before, he now wanted the ground to swallow him.
After that his are even more cautious than before; he’s used to being the one to bombard with questions and now even the small talk puts him on edge. “Work. The world doesn’t stop for Christmas and someone has to report on it.” He says flatly. “Perhaps spend a couple of days in Seoul, but maybe not.” Better to keep it vague. “And you? Will you be staying in town?”
❥ Chiharu wonders what the other is looking for as he wanders his apartment. There wasn’t much to look at, and chi barely made enough fro rent, let alone buy furniture. Everything was secondhand, some had been left for garbage. Living on the streets his whole life had made him crafty. But there was certainly nothing worth stealing.
❥ ❝It’s better than being homeless. I was homeless long enough to appreciate the value of this place, no matter how horrible it is..❞ He’s sighing at the word. Of course Chi wished he could afford someplace better, but he couldn’t. Maybe one day, but as a kid with zero education… it wasn’t likely. Now adays everyone needed at least a high school diploma and some references. Chi had neither. The job at the aquarium had been lucky and he works hard at it.
❥ A hand lifts as he follows the other, rubbing at his cheekbone. ❝I’ve been here a year.. bad time i suppose…❞ He was either sleeping or working, so it wasn’t surprising that they hadn’t run into each other.
Though he normally has an answer for everything, Chuanchen isn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. He’s not even certain that he should respond. Having spent time without a roof over his own head in the past, he’s fully aware of how sensitive and uncomfortable the topic can be. The silence sits, broken only by the gentle scraping as he clumsily manages to loosen the screws. Under normal circumstances it may have been concerning how easy if had been gain access, especially given the area’s crime rate, but for once the landlord’s stinginess had worked in his favour.
“Sorry man, that uh... that sucks.” He offers when the silence thickens to the point of near awkwardness,a touch of sincerity lingering in his voice. Focus is still on the job at hand, eyes trained on the door as he uses the point of the pocket knife to pry away the faceplate and expose the inner workings. “I guess this place has it’s charm... a freaky, end of the world type charm. As long as you can get past the fact that it’s literally about to collapse.” He shrugs, an attempt to lighten the mood.
It’s a few more minutes before he finally manages to remove the handle completely, flashing the other a triumphant grin over his shoulder as he rolls the spindle in his palm. Rising to his feet, the wood creaks open and the dull light from the bulb above spills through the crack. “Guess I owe you one.” He beams, finally turning back to his neighbour with both knives bundled in one hand, shuffling fowards and handing the two over. “You ever need help breaking into anywhere, or y’know, something less sinister, you know where to find me. Hell, shout loud enough and I’ll probably hear you through the walls. Damn things may as well be made from cardboard.”
location: somewhere around the town
time: the witching hour
availability: ~open
It was late at night, nearly into the early morning hours when no sensible person would be walking the cold and almost empty streets alone. Tonight Lola wasn’t feeling very sensible. She had been too restless to even think about sleeping and she’d had this unexplained itch to go out, to wander around. And wandered around she did, leaving trail of footprints in the blanket of snow.
There was white everywhere, in the air and on the ground, painted the town with a beautiful color of pureness and nothingness. Mist covered up the ground, dense and foggy, illuminating the street lamps. A car passed by and there were a few shops scattered here and there still serving a late night crowd but most of the street was locked up for the night. It was oddly solitary as she walked slowly across the street in the middle of snowing, winter night when most sensible person would be sleeping, wrapped in a cocoon of warm blanket or snuggled nicely with their loved ones while drinking hot beverages.
Her hair was slightly covered with pilling snow and each warm breath that she took caused a small cloud of vapor to float off into the night. Bundled in her long, thick coat—a contrast to the snow that floated in the air, she explored the town, corner to corner, paying no particular attention to where she was headed because she had no final destination in mind. It had been months of tears and heartbreaks, of anger and sorrow. And tonight, although the pains still remained, she was ready. Tonight, she made a silent vow to herself, she was ready to pick up her life, to go back to her old self.
She stopped her walk in the middle of the street and stared blankly at the sky which was dotted with fallen snow. She was too focused on the beauty around her, on her musings and thoughts that she hardly noticed anyone around her until something—someone?—slammed into her, literally knocked her of off her feet onto the hard ground. She moaned in pain as she gritted her teeth in annoyance, “Fuck!”
Nostalgia is not a luxury that Jihun often affords himself. It is after all the enemy of progress and from the very moment he’d moved away from Korea, progress had been the most important thing; the primary driving force in his life. You cannot move forwards if you only look at what is already behind. A simple concept, but one that has been drilled into him from a young age, and one that he lives by to this day.
Despite his best efforts, snow has always been the exception to that rule. It’s a reminder of a simpler time, before life had become so overwhelmingly complicated and a seemingly never ending string of bad decisions had led to his spiralling downwards. Though some may find it difficult to believe, he hasn’t always been the hardened and cold man that he is today, and the shimmering crystalline blanket is enough to return him to a time before the bitterness. It softens him slightly. Not much, but slightly.
And so when he glances out of window to see the skyline blanketed in sheer white, he gets the urge to go out. Where he’s headed is immaterial. The three unruly Pomeranian that barrel throughout the room give him an excuse to go out at such an obscene hour, and after taking a couple of minutes to leash them and shrug on his coat he heads out.
His features remain stony throughout their walk, battered by the harsh chill of winter wind. The dogs do not share his air of nonchalance, instead bounding through the eerily empty streets leaving trails of pawprits in their wake. White flakes continuously gather in the long hair only to be shaken away moments later. Despite their excitement Jihun is convinced that they’re docile enough for him to manage all three with one hand, using the other to flick open a pack of cigarettes in his pocket and pull one loose, gripping it between his lips before returning for a lighter.
The stationary figure before him doesn’t even register in his peripheral vision as he tries to click the flame to life. “Come on you piece of...” He mumbles to himself, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance and frustration as he flicks his finger. After a couple more tries he finally succeeds, only managing one drag before they collide. The force of the impact caused him to stumble, sending both the cigarette and lighter flying from one hand as well as one of the leashes from the other.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He seethes, glare moving between the items that he’d tossed to the ground and the ball of fluff sprinting away. Had he not been in a semi-decent mood, he would have exploded at the other. “Rollins!” He barks, glaring at the canine who turns meekly before slowly sauntering back towards them. The three are nothing if not obedient and well trained. Rather than immediately helping the stranger up, Jihun prioritises collecting his belongings, sighing deeply as he crushes the cigarette under his heel with a resounding crunch as foot forcefully meets ice. Eventually he returns though, offering a hand to pull her up. “Watch where you’re going. Not a good neighbourhood to stand around daydreaming.” He chastises with a frown. “What are you even doing in the middle of the street at this time? You lost or something?”
as the colder weather began to roll in, a numbing sadness seemed to follow. it was a feeling that minho had come to know all too well in the past four years. the once bustling beach was slowly growing more empty as the people of wonyang took shelter inside from the harsh, icy winds, leaving minho feeling more alone than ever, just like the years prior.
in an attempt to avoid going home and being left to his own pathetic sadness and misery, minho found himself wondering the streets of the city with no known destination. he had figured that he should look for a part-time job to keep him going as his current occupation was on hold for the season and he always felt bad for calling his parents for money due to the unreasonable guilt of leaving them alone in the united states because he was too much of a baby to stay there after a singular traumatic event.
digging his numbed fingers deeper into the well-padded jacket that did it’s best to keep him warm, he tilted his head down to protect it from the sudden burst of cold wind that decided to beat down on him. although this would be a fool proof way of someone watching their steps, minho quickly found himself losing his footing the slick ground, causing the leg to slip from under him followed by an audible impact of his butt meeting the ground, quickly followed by a ‘FUCK’ from minho’s chapped lips.
With winter now in full effect and footfall in Cheonpo all but nonexistent, Jaebeom has, somewhat reluctantly, decided that having the stall constantly open is not the most efficient or viable option. He is no seasoned businessman, but even he knows that it isn’t worth the time or money when you’re taking less than it costs to run. Early in the new years things will return to normal, but for now he’s a free agent.
Except now he doesn’t know what to do with himself. They’d made enough profit in November to see them through the holidays, barely, so it wasn’t as though he needed to find seasonal work. But spending hours on end in the house, watching things slowly deteriorate was taking just as much of a toll. He can feel himself beginning to buckle under the weight of stress, his usual facade slipping more than normal, and with every hour he spends there he can feel the cracks widening. And so he finds any excuse to be anywhere else.
His mind is preoccupied, as it often is these days, as he wanders down the streets. With nobody that he knows around there is little need to paint the usual mask of optimism and positivity, and so in its place is disquiet and melancholy. It morphs into mortification as he feels the slam of another body crashing into his own, face going beet read, eyes wide and time seeming to go in slow motion as the stranger tumbles to the ground. The thud that rings out causes him to scramble, immediately reaching to help the other to his feet. “Oh my gosh, I’m so, so sorry, I should have been watching where I was going and-” He babbles apologetically, the picture of flustered embarrassment and mild panic as he can’t even bring himself to look Minho in the eye, instead burying his face in his hands. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt or anything are you?”
“I heard the pumpkin pasties is really delightful.”
“Can we ask sensei to go to Three Broomsticks?”
“I really want to see Zonko’s Joke Shop!”
“I just want to see the Whomping Willow.” Riino sighed, playing with the mashed potatoes on her plate, not even had an appetite to finish it. Juno, her tuxedo cat, comfortably lays on Riino’s lap, purring softly as her free hand scratches his neck. “But you know, it’s dangerous to be around that tree?” Her friend chirped, looking worried at Riino; sometimes, her curiosity leads her to dangerous situations, just like how she got trapped in Mahoutokoro’s underground basement because there are rumours about a silver-snake creature lies underneath the palace.
“It’s just a tree, guys— Juno!” Riino was about to start a long paragraph about how Whomping Willow intrigued her curiosity and how she can approach that tree without getting harmed until Juno jumped from her lap, having his own mind to wander around the new environment in Hogwarts.
“Juno, don’t you dare to run on your own!” Riino exclaimed, hopefully there will be a kind soul to help her catch the running plump cat.
Chuanchen is only half listening to the conversation unfolding before him as he lounges back in the courtyard, eyes cast skyward to the expanse of grey stretching above them. He barely knew these people, but their robes betrayed the fact that they were fellow Mahoutokoro students and his experience thus far had taught him that it was better to stick with a group, even if it was a group of near strangers. Better to be lost together than wandering blindly through the castle alone.
He lets out a sigh as he picks out their suggestions and tunes out the rest of the words. The plan had been to tag along with whichever plan sounded the most interesting, but none manage to capture his imagination. Still, he supposes, it’s not like he has anything more thrilling to offer. Deciding to let them argue about it amongst themselves, with a subtle roll of his eyes his attention returns to the sky, watching as the clouds billow above. The sound of a raised voice brings him back to reality, and without so much as a glance, or even thinking, his wand is pulled from his robe and waved in the direction of the fleeing feline.
He does’t even know what he’s trying to cast. Something to stop it in it’s tracks. Not that it matters either way, the spell completely missing the target; he really does need to improve his aim. “I’ll get it.” He says simply, quickly rising to his feet and hurrying towards the animal, eager to get away from both the bickering and any teasing that may soon be directed towards him. Unsurprisingly the cat now seems unwilling to co-operate, and it takes a good couple of minutes for him to corner Juno. “C’mon kitty...” Chuanchen mumbles, creeping towards him. “Stop being so difficult... I didn’t mean to try and petrify you... or hex you...”
A couple of failed attempts and more than a couple of scratches later, he returns to the group with Juno underarm. Dropping the pet unceremoniously down on Riino’s lap with a kind of half smile, Chuanchen resuming his previous position. “Have you guys decided what you’re doing yet?” He asks, again without looking over. “For the record, I think the willow sounds interesting. We have places to drink and stores back home. Watching someone get beaten by a tree sounds a lot more fun.”
The Yule Ball is coming up, and Kenji knows he should be excited. Well, he is, to some degree. But a big part of him is feeling nervous, so nervous that it overpowers the excitement he’s feeling. And he does have great reason to be feeling nervous. People have already started picking their dates. Only today he witnessed at least 6 people being asked out. Safe to say, Kenji is stressed, constantly worrying that someone will come before him in asking out his long-time crush — Chai, a fifth year Ravenclaw. He needs a plan and he needs it soon.
“Jae,” he whines out. He’s in his dormitory room, shared with his best friend since childhood, Jaebeom. The two have just retreated, about to go to bed, which Kenji figures is as good of a time to ask for advice as any.
“You know the Yule Ball is coming up.” He’s sure his friend can already tell where this is going. For quite some time now, Kenji has been gushing about Chai almost daily, always talking about how cute the Prefect is. It surprises him that Jae still puts up with it, honestly. “I wanna ask Chai,” he confesses, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “But I don’t know how to do it. I need help. Please, will you help me think of something?”
To say that Jaebeom is unsurprised by the topic of conversation would be the understatement of the century. His friend’s infatuation with the younger Ravenclaw has become a regular talking point of late, only increasing in frequency as the Yule Ball looms larger and larger on the horizon. It’s kind of sweet really, he thinks, how worked up the other seems to get despite refusing to act on it in any way.
A lot of the time Kenji seems satisfied to talk at Jae rather than to him, and for the most part he was perfectly happy to act as a sounding board. It was hardly as though he had much in the way of sage advice or wisdom to offer given his painfully limited experience in such matters himself. Tonight though, when his friend says that he’s planning on asking the other he can’t help but chirp up. Where a few moments before he’d been reclining on his bed, eyes closed and arms stretched behind his head, he’s now sat bolt upright with a dopey grin and a mixture of disbelief, excitement and something close to pride washing over his features.
“Finally! You were cutting it a little fine, thought I might have to intervene.” He beams enthusiastically, completely disregarding the Kenji’s obvious embarrassment. His worry had been genuine: With each passing day it seemed less likely that his friend would ask of his own volition and more likely that he would have to take action on his behalf. After all, listening to him gush about the fifth year was one thing, but listening to him mourn the fact that he’d missed his chance was entirely another. “Just... use your words and ask him?” Jaebeom offers, knowing full well that it isnt going to be any help whatsoever. “He’s a sweet kid, you’re a good guy, what’s the worst that could happen?”
[ OPEN AU STARTER ; multiple replies are very much welcomed c: ]
To be a prefect, was to carry out the responsibility that most students can’t carry. But of course, some students are ungrateful for them. Ahreum knew this wasn’t a job for everyone and she didn’t understand why she had to do such things that the Head Boy and Head Girl can do themselves. Did they think they were any better than the normal prefects?
Unbelievable.
Ahreum carries a box filled with unused decorations. Taking them back to the storeroom on the third floor like one of the professors asked her to. She could’ve used a spell so she didn’t have to carry the box on her own but it wasn’t too heavy for her, so she decided to simply carry it. Heading up the stairs, some troublemakers were running down and bumps into the Ravenclaw Prefect on accident. Ahreum slips and falls down, falling on her side as she tried to protect the box.
“Oww.. fuck.” She could swear she fractured a rib or two on her left side. The students responsible for her injury murmurs something and runs off, obviously avoiding getting house points taken. “Hey! Ah..-!” Clutching the left side of her ribs. She was in pain and she breaks into a cold sweat when she couldn’t move without feeling the stinging pain all over her body. She’ll have to report this incident to the professors.
In a daze, Ahreum tries to get back up on her feet when someone suddenly helps her out. “Thank you.” The prefect mutters softly, hissing in pain. “W-Would you mind helping me walk to the Hospital Wing, maybe?”
Chuanchen doesn’t have a clue where he is or where he’s going. The castle has proved to be an ever changing labyrinth, and he swears that the walls move behind him as every time he turns a corner. Not that it bothers him in the slightest; in fact he rather enjoys it. If nothing else the new and unfamilliar surroundings give him an excuse to skip any and all of the boring formalities that come along with the tournament.
Most days he finds himself wandering off and getting lost, every time finding something or someone new to entertain him. The third floor has so far proven to be a less than thrilling excursion with seemingly little more to offer than a few groups of gossiping Hogwarts students and equally as lost Ilvermorny ones. He’s given up and is ready to move his search for distraction elsewhere when two students steam past him. It catches him off guard at first, and it isn’t until he glances to the stairwell that he notices Ahreum.
Without a second thought he turns to the culprits, who are only just visible at the end of the corridor, and pulls his wand free. Chuanchen has never been the type to let an oppurtunity to show off pass him by. “Incarcerous” He mumbles, jabbing his wand towards the fleeing pair and visibly wincing when the ropes that spring forth veer wildly off course. Conjuration had never been his strong suit. Undeterred he swipes again, this time sending a handful of wizard crackers screaming in their direction. He can’t help but smirk as the explosions ring out, satisfied when they lose their footing and have to scramble to regain it.
It takes a good few seconds after they’ve vanished for him to remember the figure currently in a pile on the floor. In hindsight he should probably have prioritised helping her over hurling fireworks, but there was little to be done about that now. And so when he turns back he’s as casual as ever, beaming grin and strutting over to her as if he owns the place before reaching out a hand to help her to her feet.
“I could....” He answers with a nod, pausing for a moment. Technically that was the truth. He didn’t know where the hospital wing was, but he could probably help her to get there. Eventually. “Or I could try and fix you up? Doesn’t look too serious, pretty sure I’ve dealt with worse.” Again, technically true. It hadn’t been dealt with especially well, or even successfully for that matter, but that hardly seemed relevant. “Either way I have nowhere better to be right now.”
