知らぬが仏。

BRI PETER AGAIN (rainy days.) @cir

Who loves rainy days. — peter. brian tolerates them but they usually ruin his plans.

Who loves to sit inside under a warm blanket and sip tea and just listen to the sound of the rain on the window or the roof — peter. which brian thinks is cute but on days he’s bored he’ll go over and annoy him.

Who is basically a big cat and hates getting wet. — peter. AHAHA

Who has the super cute umbrella.  — baby ryan :3c (jumping aus here. SRRY NOT SORRY)

Who showed up with an umbrella and saved the other and who was trapped and unprepared. — brian. peter would be too focused on working to noticed that it’s started to rain and brian would notice that he left the umbrella at home and bring it to him.    

Who gets sick from being out in the rain too long. — peter. he would be stubborn enough to try and walk home despite the rain, thinking it wasn’t that bad at first since it’s only sprinkling but then it turns into a shower and by the time he gets home he’s shivering and cold and brian is like !!!!!! why didn’t you call me!!!???

Who has the secret recipe for the perfect chicken noodle soup to cure the sniffles. — brian. he’d call his mom and ask her for her famous chicken soup recipe then make peter wrap up in a warm blanket on the couch or in bed and feed it to him.

Who yells obscenities at the car that just drove by and splashed them with a huge puddle. — brian if the water hits peter. if it was just himself he wouldn’t care but if he’s with peter he’s going to be upset for him aklfgalkdgs

Who hides in the other’s coat. — peter :3c

Who forces their coat on the other because they forgot it and doesn’t care that they’re getting wet. — also peter though brian would fight him about it and they’d end up bickering over it.

Who grabs the other’s hand and drags them out into the rain because it came on so suddenly and they’re going to get soaked anyway, to dance and laugh and be silly and eventually steal a long kiss. — brian.... but i can also see peter doing this on a day he’s in a really good mood??? i think, brian would be the type to get annoyed and depressed in the rain and peter would see the bright side of having to cancel plans because of it and would be free and do something like this.

Who takes the initiative and drags the other home to force dry clothes and hot cocoa on them. — peter. 

BRI PETER

Who was the one to propose: — peter for sure. how? i’ll let you surprise me.

Who stressed more over wedding planning: — peter. but brian would get stressed out by peter stressing out. also, jina would for some reason stress out too and they would all just be a mess one day and probably cry together, get all their emotions out of their system then get back to planning.

Who decorated the house: — brian with the vintage memorabilia he’s collected over the years. he has a good eye for aesthetics too so their future home would have some contemporary art as well and bold colors such as a red accent wall, yellow couch, etc.

Who does the cooking: — both! sometimes they take turns or they dine out but they enjoy experimenting on new  recipes together.

Who is more organized: — peter for sure. brian can be organized when he puts his mind to it but he does have a tendency to leave things on the floor or overcrowd the tables and counter tops with music sheets. i kinda think of brian’s personal office looking similar to rodger’s from 101 dalmations HAHA. 

Who initiates bedroom fun: — both. mainly brian but peter isn’t as shy as he seems so it evens out.

Who suggested kids first: — peter. brian has suggested it but more as a joke. peter is serious when he brings it up.

Who’s more dominant: — asdfghj peter. brian is a softie that is easily talked into things. peter is firm and his no means no unlike brian.

What’s their favorite non-sexual activity: — they have a bunch but the main one being trying out new restaurants together. it used to be poetry meets and live performances but as they got older and after brian opens up his own club they find new things to do together to avoid burnout.

Who comes home drunk at 3am: — brian for sure kdlgdlkflgsdg

Who kills the spiders: — OMG i can’t decide. part of me is like brian.... but he just seems like the type to leave it alone as long as it’s not dangerous dgslkgslf

Who falls asleep first: — it’s always brian. for someone as energetic as he is, he can also fall asleep at a drop of a hat. 

@cir for MIKO.

what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: MIKO.

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone: the basic iphone text alert

“These.”

Juwon held up the page, creases all over from when he folded it up and stuck it in his pocket after having ripped it from a magazine. Jungah seemed a little less than enthused, but, in all fairness, he was certain she was at least interested. She at least took the page from him and stared at the pair of trousers. “These are cheaply made.”

“It’s from a fashion magazine.”

“This model is ugly.”

“But what about the pants?”

“Maybe if you stopped ripping yours, you wouldn’t have to keep asking for new pants.”

“Maybe if—”

Jungah snapped her head back up from the ragged page to stare at him, daring Juwon to continue whatever nonsense he was going to come back at her with. He decided it wasn’t worth it, not when he was asking her for a favor.

The page was handed back to him immediately and she went off to her workroom without another word. “I’m not making these.”

That day, Juwon wasn’t in the mood to argue with her, even if prodding her along was one of his favorite past times, it just wasn’t the time for it. Instead he ran back out to slip the ripped page back into the magazine pile he had taken it from, smoothing it out against the side of the coffee table at the office he had lingered in.

When Jungah had gone back to her work room, she had pulled out her notebook, flipping to the page where she had doodled Juwon’s face which was accompanied by his measurements.

Other notes:

- Shoulders, elbows, hips, & knees need room to stretch - Synthetics - Warning: chaffing - Avoid bright colors - Breathable

It was about a week later when a gruff looking, too tall to be human, well-dressed man arrived at his apartment. Juwon couldn’t blame him for looking a little shocked when he answered the door only a second after the first knock.

“Yeah?”

“I’m here for a man named Juwon.”

“That’s me.”

And then a package was then held out to him, wrapped in brown paper, with a bow keeping it all together.

“What’s this?”

But as soon as Juwon took it, the man turned around and walked off without a word.

Within minutes, he had opened up the package, a nice pair of trousers were folded up. They looked like they were practically for a suit. There was no tag inside the waistline, but when he unfolded the pants, two cards fell to the floor. One had washing instructions including timing, type of soap, and drying instructions. The other had a note.

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them

Hanui. She loves drawing and doodling, and usually lets her mind wander off when she begins to create her visual art pieces. She’d likely make something more elaborate than a collection of little hearts, but it’d have the same meaning as a simple set. 

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile

Jack. Jack’s productivity increases tenfold come night-time, while Hanui has to sleep at 10:30 pm. She often tries to stay awake for Jack, but she’ll never make it past 11:30 pm before she’s sound asleep. When she’s asleep, she has a habit of holding onto objects/people that are close to her (namely, Jack) and this makes him smile affectionately @ her. 

Who mistakes salt for sugar

Jack! He’s a tad bit more clumsy and uncertain in the kitchen than Hanui is.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines

Jack. Hanui’s not very imaginative when it comes to romance, whereas Jack has much more energy and creativity. Hanui will, however, drop the occasional terrible science pun on him. Like everyone else (besides Hanui), he has trouble finding what makes yeast amusing.

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order

Hanui. She loves being organized, and is uncomfortable whenever something in her life (or room) is askew. 

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies

Jack. He’s far more mischievous than Hanui. 

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion

Both of them. Hanui makes candles and likes placing them around the house because she thinks they give her home good vibes, whereas Jack likely buys the candles to be romantic. 

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen

Hanui! She would love to turn Jack into a canvas for her art. 

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation

Jack. He sees more purpose and finds more sentiment in sending little gifts than Hanui does. She does, however, occasionally bring him matching phone cases and bags from her home country (Japan).  

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines

dream 1. 

here’s some advice. 

635mph won’t do you any good. 

the low, rumbling of a man’s voice echoes in your ears; though it’s distant, like a subway that’s nearing from its last station, rolling, rolling, rolling…

run at 640. 

run at 650. 

70. 

80. 

90.

95.

98!

fuck, push yourself to 700!

your limbs shriek.

skin writhing as it peels.  

“—stop—stop—stop—juwon—stop, stop, stop, stop,—stop, please—stop, for fuck’s sake, stop, stop, i can’t—stop, juwon, please stop—”

your bones snap, then tear like paper. they scream and grab for each other, smeared in blood and torn skin, begging for another chance—one last chance, juwon—

you collapse to the blurry ground. 

listen, miles per hour ain’t nothin’ if you ain’t shredding your own limbs apart with speed.

this should come easy to you. why is it so hard? 

dream 2.

this time your limbs split clean. the wind is a butcher’s knife to your body, chopping your arms, your fingers, your toes—and lastly, your neck. 

“where are you going…?” 

when your head falls to the floor, there is no blood. 

but what is relief in a dream?

you are surrounded by a blackness that is thick, like a blanket, void of sound and life. in this space, there is no god and there is no soul. 

your fingers, sliced clean at each joint, show white bone; and they move as if to say hello, floating around you. “hello…” then comes your palm, alone, without your wrist or elbow. it does nothing as it disappears. “goodbye…”

0.

“goodbye,” you say, knowing there is little you can do to twist your dream.

eventually, your eyes pluck themselves out. 

your head disintegrates into the nothingness. 

finally, you cease to exist at all.

dream 3. 

“what are you going to do when it’s all over?—everything, just over, the end. what are you going to do when you reach your destination?” 

“we make our own destinations.” 

“i make my own destinations.” 

“and when you find no-one there?” 

“where?” 

“at your destination.” 

“what’s that matter? i’ll keep running.” 

“next time, it’ll be your spine.” 

“what’ll be my spine?” 

“the end. it won’t happen because of your ankles, or your legs, or knees. it’ll come with the shredding of your spine. you’ll fall apart from the middle, the bones that keep you upright. what’ll you do then?” 

“i don’t know that means.” 

“well, we’re in a dream, aren’t we? so imagine.” 

the voice is soft; it touches your cheek gently, with the tips of it fingers, and strokes your brow. you wonder why everything feels like its in its last moment. why do your dreams all feel like goodbyes? 

“tell me what you see.” 

dream 4.

it starts with your blood in backward motion, trickling its way to your restoring skin; into your veins, pumping you to life. “don’t let us down again,” your bones cry. then, your bones find themselves again. and you are whole, as if you hadn’t fallen apart at all. 

there are no stitches; yet the lines of damage burn a bright gold light, haloing your every scar as though the once absent god is now asking your body for forgiveness. “we shouldn’t have done this to you, juwon,” the god murmurs. the air lifts with a chill, and runs its fingers through your hair. you understand, suddenly, that god is greeting you; enveloping you in all its useless, sweet glory.

“leave,” you sigh; collapsing to the floor by your own will. this time your body is yours, but you don’t want it anymore. “leave me…” 

take it away, if only for a moment, take it all away.

@warsk​ a response to this.

Even in his psychedelic state, tripping on colors, sounds, and unable to focus — he’s able to register Juwon. Juwon who keeps multiplying and each new copy look at Wade as if he’s someone they want to forget. 

(I won’t let that happen.)

Wade keeps talking, most of what falls from his mouth are random words with absolutely no correlation to one another. His language is broken thrown out in stuttered patterns after rough intakes of breath to accompany rough exhale of breaths. “I think… I think some fucker tried to — I was poisoned.” Wade manages with a heaving chest. 

And he probably was, most likely by something that he drank, by someone in plain sight who managed to slip under his radar. The poison is slow traveling, made to shut down a normal person’s blood flow by reversing it but it has a different effect than intended when Wade’s body fights against it.

He keeps talking to reassure himself that he is alive, continues to talk because his eyes are unfocused and he can’t feel the tips of his fingers but he mainly talks to make sure Juwon is still there. He isn’t afraid— but this is the closest he’s felt to fear since he left weapon x. 

“You can sleep now, you said. You said that. I had a dream where you said that. Thanks for saying that. You weren’t supposed to.” Wade keeps repeating this yet he doesn’t know where the words come from, if they’re even his. Regardless he’s unable to communicate what he actually wants to say but he keeps talking, repeating the same nonsense.

(Why do you want to forget.) 

(Let’s not talk about it, let’s just not talk.)

One the edges of his vision he can see Sori’s fingers, electric green, playing that damn music on a multicolored spiral of piano keys. He can see his eyes as he plays the climax of one of his pieces as red and intense as the music echos in his ears morphing with the theme song of some children’s show he used to watch as a kid. 

The whistling is driving him crazy, the fact he’s not feeling grounded despite thinking of Sori is makes him grind his teeth together, thoughts going between murderous and angry to shaky to helpless. 

He grabs the nearest thing that is stable. He grabs Juwon by the wrists, holding on too tight, shaking, creating bruises from his grip as he still refuses to say how much it hurts because he won’t give anyone that satisfaction so he keeps talking until the poison filters out and his body heals itself.

🗁: send me a ship and one of these and i’ll write a mini fic🖅:  @warsk   🗵  no longer accepting

“I don’t think I like the world.”

“That’s pretty obvious.”

“No, I mean, I don’t think hate it, but I don’t think I likeit.”

“Weird.”

Juwon twisted himself around to see Jungah standing by thesliding glass window that led out to her balcony, eyes staring out into thecity, but he wasn’t sure she was staring at anything at all.

“What about your world?”

Jungah stayed still, seeing the faint reflection of Juwonlounging on her couch, his eyes trained on her.

“My world is different.”

There was the world out there, the world her family operatedin, and then, there was the world where she functioned with others…

She wasn’t sure which one Juwon fit in just yet.

Hell, if Jungah were to be honest, she wasn’t sure if sheeven melded into her own world.

Turning around, she stared at Juwon with a small smile. Hereyes no longer were gazing out into nothing and everything, but on one solething—one sole being—she could never really explain well. It wasn’t likethat. It wasn’t like with Byul. She didn’t see warmth in the same way,didn’t feel the tug and the urgency colliding with a sense of home andcompassion…

Warmth.

A warmth that was familiar but that didn’t light her on fireor consume her.

It was something that enveloped her gently without a word.

I think I love you.

But not like that.

you are the immortal heart of the sky 

an 8tracks playlist for sunny & junsu  + dialogue excerpt from [ this drabble ] by @cepid

“You might think of this as strange, but can I ask something of you?” 

“Anything.”

“Don’t be afraid of the person you’ll become.” 

she’s not one of this world 

To everyone who has made last year and my 2018 (thus far) so wonderful, thank you. I am endlessly thankful for you for sticking with me from day one, and for the new friends who have given me memories I will always be fond of. I may not have been able to share cake with you, today, so I hope that I can make up for that by sharing my appreciation and love for you. 💛

to: @baudellare        The first word that comes to mind when I think about your writing is: breathtaking. everything from your flow, your word choices, your usage of metaphors, and beyond, is just beautiful. You has this talent (I liken it to magic) that makes everything you write sound so soft, and so very lovely. You’re also extremely imaginative, which definitely shows in your writing through your usage of imagery and your choices of comparing/contrasting things (that others may not have been able to even think of). Also, the way you write for Haneul, really helps people to see what kind of character she is. All in all, your writing is magical (imo) and it’s always going to be #1 in my heart.

I believe that you are a real angel. Thank you for supporting me from day one to come out of my writing shell, encouraging me to write across all of my muses, giving me endless positivity + support, and for always making my soul smile whenever we talk. Thank you for always being kind to me. I often look at screenshots of our past conversations when I’m in a tough spot or simply feeling exhausted because your words are one of my sources of strength. Thank you. (≧▽≦)

          @whitelai Your writing across all your muses wows me every day (or any time you post) because it’s so so so so so so so so so amazing. The way you write for each of your muses is a literal mirror for that muse’s personality. It reflects how that muse acts, talks, and behaves, and that’s something that I’ve always admired you for being able to do with your writing. That being said, you (and by far) have the broadest spectrum of  writing styles I’ve ever come across. You can write both poetry and crack (gorgeously, at that) and stick yourself very strictly to whichever style you’ve opted to go for. What I love most about your writing, though, has to be your unique characterization of each of your muses. You make your muses’ values and personalities very clear through your threads alone, and it’s amazing to see how well you’ve grasped each of your muses’ personalities when your muses are so different from one another. ALSO, plotting with you is always so much fun. Thank you for always putting effort into developing dynamics and our storyline, and for being the most honest person I know. I appreciate you with my whole heart. I was blessed to meet you. 💛

         @formidnight You’re my ideal type of writer because you use the elements of writing I love most. For one, I love seeing beautiful words being used to describe people, places, and things. And secondly, I love how you paces your phrases/sentences. Thirdly, I like just how human each and every one of your muses are, regardless of what backgrounds they come from. You allow your readers to connect/relate to your muses’ emotionally with the snippets you grace us with (as head-cannons and threads w other writers’ muses). You portray emotions like fear, worry and other negative emotions so realistically it almost feels like the pain is my own. (ouchie) Needless to say, your writing is stunning! ps ily!!!

         @warsk i haven’t had the chance to say this to you in person yet, but I have always thought of you as an incredible writer. The way you play with words, give both Juwon’s actions and emotions a voice, and breathe life into the setting Juwon’s in (i.e. making rooms pulse + clocks run), is extraordinary. Reading your threads feels like I’m taking one step out of my world, and one step right into the fictional mind & world of your muse’s. It may not be real, but it feels so unbelievably real. Having your writing being able to do that, is goals! \o/

         @consilian This list would NOT be complete without you. You’re one of my favourite multi-muse blogs for so many reasons (one of them might be that your blog is the one of two mumu blogs I know :3) BUT for real, your blog is phenomenal. My favourite thing about your pretty writing is your syntax because it REALLY makes your writing, yours. The way you order your words in your writing gives your replies this special flow that makes me itch to read the next word, and the next sentence, and the next body of thoughts after that. You also have SO many different muses, YET they’re all very original. This goes to show just how creative you are. For being able to make so many different characters who all have interesting backgrounds, stories, and personalities, I admire you as a writer, so very, very much. I hope your creativity and writing continues to bloom throughout 2018. ﾟ*｡(･∀･)ﾟ*｡

I think about her for a while. She’s a mirage. She’s the midnight drive mist shrouding my mind. We tear through the streets when I feel incomplete. Her body sprawls lazily in the backseat of my car, waiting, twirling her hair. “We’ll go wherever,” She says. “As long as you get better.” She gazes out the window. The pine trees pass and winter comes too quickly.

I should’ve known better before I let her into my home. She’s the beauty framed by the rearview mirror. We glance at each other every now and then. My hands on the steering wheel. She flicks the ashes of her cigarette at me and smiles, the playful tilt of her head so tempting, so young.

So, I drift on the bend of the road. She gasps mid-laughter. Highway to downtown blues. Her arms drape around my neck from the back. She doesn’t let me drive. She doesn’t let me see. Her hands on my eyes. “Can we die?” She asks. “Just like this.” Her fingers card through my hair, and she leans in to admire the empty, country-side road that leads only to fog and trees. “Should we die? Just like this.”

My hand settles on her wrist. But I don’t push her away. “I’d like to live—” I say.

There’s nothing more pleasant than the smile I catch in her voice.

🗁: send me a ship and one of these and i’ll write a mini fic🖅:  @warsk   🗹 currently accepting   

Jungah was different.

Or, rather, the situation Juwon had with Jungah wasdifferent.

It was all different.

The bustle of the café was pretty average—the studentsstudying, groups chatting, coffee grinders whirring all provided Juwon withsomething to listen to as Jungah ignored him. He didn’t particularly mind, savefor the grating sound of the coffee grinders, that she hadn’t said a word to himsince they sat down. Whatever was preoccupying her on her phone must have been worthit. She didn’t like to waste time.

It made him wonder why she bothered with him, but he couldask himself that same question regarding her and be left just as confused.

It just didn’t feel like wasting time.

When they announced Jungah’s order, she didn’t flinch nor didshe look up from her phone—it was impressive how little she cared about theworld around her when she was engrossed in something. Then again, Juwon waswell aware enough to know that Jungah cared much more than she would like tolet on.

“They called your drink.”

“I know.”

Sure, Juwon would have gotten it anyway, but he waswondering if he could get her to snap at him for not just doing it for herimmediately. She expected things, he had learned, and she wouldn’t accept anythingshe deemed as insolence without making someone pay for it. She could run hermouth when she wanted to. For now, she remained calm, sinking into her seat andswiping her thumb across the screen.

“It’s going to get cold.”

“Alright.”

He waited a beat too long for her, it turned out, and so heresigned to grabbing her drink and getting his own as soon as it was announced.

As he slid the cup and saucer in front of her, he caught thesight of a gaggle of girls seated on the other end of the building, watchingboth of them. He would have rolled his eyes, but instead he decided to play itup by slipping his hand over her back.

“Your majesty,”

“Don’t.” Now she looked up, her unamused expressiononly brought a smile to Juwon’s face.

She didn’t want him to act like that. It was too close tohome.

Juwon snorted, patting her back with a little more forcethan usual. Just a silent “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” in response.

Jungah set her phone down and turned her attention to Juwon,gossiping about the other patrons and girls in her graduating class who shefelt were going to fail at their chosen paths. Juwon enjoyed it, but also askedif she had any attractive friends she could introduce to him.

Everything kept moving around them.

Eventually, Jungah got up to go to check herself in themirror of the bathroom, another habit Juwon was used to. It was never to lookher best for him, but always just for herself—to show off to the world in herown way. Her appearance didn’t match to the weight her gaze would place on hisshoulders. It would be difficult to endure if he didn’t know any better.

But, that’s exactly why he liked to crack her demeanor hereand there.

She had approved how she looked, touching up her lips andmaking sure her hair was perfectly in place, before she walked out of thebathroom only to be stopped by two of the girls who had been watching themearlier. Jungah had noticed their stares from the corner of her eye, but it wasa shock to find herself nearly colliding with them.

“Oh!” one said, the other quickly apologizing for notwatching where they were going (which Jungah merely nodded to) but then chimingin with

“You and your boyfriend are really cute!”

It didn’t exactly register with Jungah who they were talking about.

“Who?”

“The guy—wait are you…?”

“Jungah!”

Juwon bounced right next Jungah (how he got there so fast,she didn’t know (and she wasn’t sure she wanted to)), wrapping an arm aroundher waist while she felt her side collide with is. “We just started datingrecently.” He smiled warmly at that girls and then back down at Jungah,squeezing her hip. “It feels like a dream.”

The one now overly invasive and overly excited girl (Jungahalso had a few other choice words that threatened to escape her) “Cute,” shegiggled, which only served to trigger Jungah out of her stupor and intoannoyance.

Then came the saving grace from her friend: “Come on, weshould get going,” she urged, looping her arm with the other girl and tuggingher forward toward the bathroom. “Sorry!”

When the door swung behind them, Jungah turned and pushedherself away from Juwon.

“You’re the worst.”

Even then as she walked off, he caught the small smile shehad.

@warsk

IM BREKAING UP WITH YOU

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