i FINALLY found a place to redownload photoshop (pls don’t ask me where i don’t remember) so i’m just like, working on the new blog right now. plots, threads, ims etc etc are gonna be moved over and none of them are gonna be dropped! i like the amount of things i have and i’ll keep messaging whoever i’m plotting with so we don’t end on a stalemate. 

“i don’t get it— do i smell bad, or what?” the unfortunate answer: probably. one of the cons, the most prominent one in his opinion, of working within the confines of a morgue is the permeated smell of god knows what sticking to clothes and disturbing the peace, despite the pounds of cologne splashed over it. the victims in this tragic case? eros’ poor cats, each of which hissing the moment he tried to reach for them. “chicken is the same way.” noeul sighs, resting an elbow on the couch arm and placing his cheek in the palm of his hand, teeth enclosed around the nearest finger. “avoids me like the plague, even when i have treats. it’s like they think i’m the devil or something.”

“so, you fold here aaaaand,” words fade into the cautious sound of paper crinkling, and the slightest breath ( sheer relief, because it would have an embarrassment to make a mistake ) follows as noeul holds up the finished product: a flower bud, reminiscent of a rose, “it’s nice, isn’t it?” he turns it ‘round in his fingers with endless patience, then holds it out to the other as somewhat of an impromptu present. the collection of them at home was almost at its limit, though he would never let anyone know that. “the younger kids aren’t big fans of the whole origami thing — makes me feel like i’m getting too old for them to think i’m cool.”

"i don’t know how surgeons can manage with that kind of stress,” a stray comment thrown amongst the casual conversation, eyes growing wide ( briefly, because there was hardly such a thing as broad emotion to noeul ) throughout the absentminded flip through layers of documents, “i barely made it through my surgical rounds; one wrong cut and your patient flatlines.” perhaps that was the advantage to forensic studies, he thinks. noeul peers up at the other with the slightest curl to his lips, fingers left to tap on the printed case files, almost restless. “forensic pathology— you make a couple bad incisions? eh, no one can really complain.”

            a look of satisfaction washes over her features, finally getting the difference across to him (or so she thinks). her eyes follow his chopsticks until he finally places the food in his mouth, letting herself settle for a while before taking her own. she reaches for the plate in between them, managing to gather a leaf, a slice of carrots, and a tiny piece of meat that she quickly munches on. “that’s fine. just stay close. some… weird people hang around those areas.” she continues to look at him as she drinks from her glass, a burp following her last gulp. “excuse me.” wiping her mouth clean, the girl gives him a big grin. “alright, alright. since that makes sense, i’ll let you bring the thing.” as if she could really stop him. “are you gonna bring anything to cheer me on, though? pom poms would be great.”

weird people? the slight crunch of food between his teeth slows as the statement processes through his conscious — just how dangerous would, what he thought would be, a regulated arena for a night of friendly support be? ( extremely, from what he’s gathered within a moment’s notice. ) “i’m a little scared to ask what kind of weird you mean,” words paired with an awkward chuckle as his chopsticks are set down on the table, soon replaced by a spoon full of rice; calm eyes dart to her expression when she burps, taken by surprise, but there’s not much to be said — a near ridiculous amount of his friends don’t cover their mouths and, though minjae holds an irrational fear of airborne bacteria, it doesn’t bother him too much. “pom poms.” he hums through the last chews of rice, hands placed on his lap to signify he was finished with his meal. ( finally. ) “i don’t have any, but i’m taking other quick-fix suggestions.”

( *&. @efimerc.

     ‘ so that is where all my hoodies have been disappearing to. ’ for two weeks he had been wrapped up in his self-entitled hoodie conspiracy; one by one, hoodies had been MAGICALLY disappearing from his closet. it was only until the other emerged wearing the very hoodie he had been looking for the other day that the pieces finally came together. ‘ you’ve been stashing them. ’ not that he minded that much. it was kind of endearing, but he never said that. ‘ i hope you’ll be here taking care of me when my lack of hoodies results in me catching a cold. ’

freeze. deokhyun stares, mouth pressed into a thin line of something akin to equal parts shame and embarrassment, and peers down at the hooded sweatshirt taken from between a myriad of other choices in his closet. “uh.” caught in a compromising position but reluctant to think of a viable excuse, because the habit of borrowing his own twin’s clothes wouldn’t hold up much here, he holds the textbook in his arms a bit closer with one hand — the other comes up to scratch at the edge of his brow bone, nervous. “you have really comfortable hoodies?” good enough. “deoksu buys thin ones from the underground market in myeongdong and they’re shit on cold days, so... uh, yeah.” cheeks flushed a light rouge to contrast against pale skin, deokhyun sighs, wishes he never had to speak for the rest of his life. “okay, okay, i’ll give them back. eventually. just don’t get sick in the meantime.”

a starter from hermione // for @efimerc.

—– ✤✤       “were you really that worried for me?” hermione cooed. “i’m sorry i couldn’t contact you for two weeks. i just had a lot of things going on that i had to take care of and had to disappear for a while. i apologise for not letting you know in advance though.” the girl explained as best as she could. “how can i make it up to you today? i’m free for two days!”

“of course i was!” because, truly, who was gajeong without the utmost concern for those he considers close to him? ( everyone, he means. ) two weeks were decades in the slowed clocks of his own personal world, and hermione’s leave was one that came unannounced; lost would be an understatement to describe his social status during that time. “it’s okay,” but he readily forgives with a meek smile, as though it was nothing more than water off his back, “it was just boring without you around, because hayeong-noona was working on this big mural for the whole week—” and, in mere seconds, his face brightens with realization and he reaches for hermione’s sleeve, pulling on the fabric in excitement. “we should go see it! i think she said it was around sinsa!”