#athaza

and I have a lot of fan-points / ocs this is my pointsona (idk how you say it) Athaza !!

@athaza

it’s quiet, for once. she’s had a long week, and the narrative is probably, only, lying in wait.

the one other muse she’s seen in this universe, and she was assigned to take him out. he’s too dangerous, too much of a wild card, says the director, like she isn’t the same. she knows what makes them that way, too, the way their narrative threads converge and twist into each other. but they will diverge, eventually – the game of cat and mouse they’ve played has come to an end, sori assigned somewhere else. perhaps the narrative got tired of toying with her, and the countless injuries it’s inflicted on her through him.

but there’s something else it’s preparing for her, tipping her narrative load into it. it’s been hours past midnight, when she should be sleeping. she knows what that means: the narrative is messing with her sleep schedule, again, and someone out there is going to need her help, or at least her presence. she could try to defy the narrative, but what good would that do when it can always wrench her back?

so sori is pacing the floor, waiting, just as the narrative does.

it’s just me on whiteboard realizing that i’m a hypocrite dont mind me

@athaza

he laughs, and it sounds like a drunken sort of reverence, the kind that has believers of blind faith, his salvation in a secular age.

which is just a nice way of saying, he’s got no fucking idea what the other guy just said, but he’s hot, so he’s gonna laugh at whatever he just missed. jooha takes another sip of the drink he’s snatched off of a random table, undoubtedly too strong for how much he’s already had to drink but the rapid, irregular beat of his heart that’s trying to jump in time to the low bass that some frat boy put on at least makes him feel more fucking alive than the whole week put together.

“hyung,” he says, and he leans against the other guy, close enough to let the guy’s hands to brush against his ass, his smile blatant, pupils blown. what’s one more nameless notch on his bedpost, one more brief attempt at feeling alive under someone else’s hands, someone he won’t be seeing ever again after tonight. frat parties aren’t usually his scene, but for today ( and this actual adonis of a guy, though he doesn’t know if that’s just the alcohol talking ) he’ll make an exception.

Uhhh its itsssss

Her (Athaza, point of phobias)

And ploque.... theyre very silly itd make my day.

Ty <:)

@athaza

it’s another one of soohyuk’s games, sori tagging along as their part time manager, part time cheerleader, and now full time expecting fiancee. the last part is news to the club, who spend most of the journey heckling the both of them, sori laughing and hiding in his arms while hyuk fends them all off. the banter is easy and fun, comfortable after years of friendship in the club. a second family, albeit one adopted through hyuk. she loves them all the same, trusts them with her life and hyuk’s both, even if they’re currently preoccupied with congratulating them loud enough for the entire train to hear.

“how’re you feeling?” she asks quietly, smiling up at hyuk while leaning a cheek on his shoulder. the game and their announcement both, the teasing from his teammates an easy handle. it’s a new chapter to their life together, unexpected but one she’s finding herself more and more excited about, the longer she gets to become comfortable with it. she laces their fingers together and rests his hand against her tummy, still flat but with a little life starting to grow. snuggling into his side, she closes her eyes; it’s going to be a long ride, and she needs the rest.

there’s a thump that wakes her up, looking to her side to find the source of the sound. the train stewardess falls flat onto the ground, screaming. the woman on her back snarls. her mouth is as bloody as the stewardess’ neck, and both their eyes have glazed over into a pure milky white. sori clutches hyuk’s arm, white-hot fear short-circuiting her flight or flight response, sleep flushed out immediately.

first day of school, as usual. the term starts with students portkeying in from the gate, chatter and games warming up the school halls. jiyi throws an arm around sunwoo and haesung each, just tall enough to ruffle both their heads and cackle when they protest at the same time.

the routine is surprisingly easy to settle in, second year in. what she missed for most of her fourth has healed over, not quite filled in but covered up nicely. they go to their classes, split ways at the great hall, meet up again during common room time that really, belongs more to them. she has her best friends, her housemates, even linkai who's tenously neither and more than ( not that she's admitting it yet ). fourth had been a mess of a year, angry heartbreak and self destruction but she's found herself an equilibrium that no longer includes yoonju. it doesn't ache, to be missing a hand to hold as they walk to class.

but fate and magic work in funny ways.

she sees her silhouette in the hallway, recognisable because that's the one she's only had eyes for for four years. a trick of her eyes, is what she thinks at first. maybe she's not as over the other girl as she believes. but the silhouette turns around, and it is her.

seeing yoonju again isn't all that earth shattering when time has passed, after all. she'd thought there'd be something more, heart fluttering, time slowing. instead all she gets are sweaty palms that yoonju used to complain about, and a slightly awkward smile. as far as first loves and first heartbreaks go, she thinks she's handling hers pretty well.