#automaticfurytaco

three nights at the motel... 

back from a late night shift, the song is heard through the speakers of her home. it was something she picked up from a friend as they shared earphones, the rhythm and vocals in the background made it enduring and as soon as she knew it-- she was home, starving for food but didn’t have enough energy to cook herself. usually, her complex would be stained with the aroma of soups as the cold breeze washed over her roof, windows shaking a bit as she slips into the comfort of oversized hoodies and sweats. a loud thunk could be heard from her body falling onto the couch, scrolling through mangoplate to check ratings. ah... again.. she scrolls through the order history, why not jjajjangmyeon again?

“looks like this is the end.” 

You were never too old to do the things you’d once enjoyed as a child, or at least that was Soyeon’s philosophy. Why did people think that everything came with an age limit attached to it anyway? Rides, soft toys and candy weren’t just for the kids and now she was at Lotte World with the man there was one ride she would be adamant they went on. Sure the only adults upon the carousel were the ones with their child seated on the saddle in front of them but that didn’t mean they couldn’t go on it too. 

“If you go on this with me then I will go on any ride you here you want, pinkie promise.” Came from her lips the pre-emptive strike of bribery to Sungil just in case he wasn’t quite on board as she was for this.

⸻ IT WASN’T A REGULAR THING FOR JAEHEE TO GET A FREE EVENING FOR HIMSELF, ESPECIALLY ON A SUNDAY. However, it seems the witch known as his grandmother had a streak of good humour (or was planning something horrible and decided to first put the unfortunate man in a good mood to crush it the moment he got home) and it resulted in the white-haired male roaming the streets of the city with curiosity taking in the nightlife of this weird city that he still didn’t understand.

He knew he didn’t want to go to a club, he still didn’t feel comfortable with the drunk students working out all their frustrations from overwork by drinking themselves to death and attacking the closest love hotel they found. The two sides of this country he was supposed to see as his Fatherland were still too much in contrast to each other for his taste and he felt them to be horribly artificial.

This was perhaps why he ended up just walking around, looking for a jazz cafe or any place with just pleasant live music that would attack his head with horrid abuse of bass. In all honesty, he didn’t even realise in his attempt to escape the annoying crowd he ended in one of the more crowded districts of the evenings (way to go, Bien!) Hongdae. It wasn’t ideal, far from it, but at the very least there was a lot of live music. Buskers stood on every corner, trying to earn extra money, get recognition and possibly catch the eye of a music industry worker that could offer them an audition for a label of some sort. He liked that, it reminded him of France. Unfortunately, most of the music he came across was not his cup of coffee, until suddenly a strong, dark voice with a light rasp caught his attention and he followed the sounds until he reached a rather tall, slender male who certainly didn’t look as if he was the owner of the voice. Nonetheless, it was definitely him and Jaehee stood with a small crowd around the young artist who sang cover song of both Korean and American artist, mostly rock renditions of hits, plus a few rock ballads that Jaehee didn’t know, possibly his own creations or just old rock songs that the Frenchman was not familiar with. Time seemed to have stopped for him as he listened, as its passage seemed not to affect Jaehee, who simply enjoyed the sounds.

It was only when the music stopped and the guy obviously started packing that Jaehee looked to his phone and saw that he had stood in the same place for well over an hour. He searched through his pockets to give the guy some money and realised in panic that he had absolutely no cash on him, having taken only his card as he left the house earlier that day. He was angry at himself when he noticed that the guy wrote on the cardboard beside him ‘will take coffee as well’. Quickly, Jaehee ran to the nearest coffee store and bought a medium latte then ran out, hoping the guy was still there. He was lucky.

Clubs weren’t really Jinyoung’s scene; or so that’s what he’d thought the first time he’d gotten dragged into one by some fellow classmates. The same one’s who accused him of being too uptight about the importance of studying and that claimed he should go out more. Only, after being dragged there several times, he started to grow a fondness for it or maybe it was the band who played there that he really grew a fondness for. It was different from the music he was used to but different in a refreshing way. He’d also gotten to know the singer from the group and they were getting along surprisingly well considering their vastly different backgrounds and lifestyles.

Now, as they both sat at the bar conversing about this and that Jinyoung suddenly got an idea. “Hey. We should hang out more.” He stated casually before taking a short sip of the beer in his hand. Jinyoung didn’t have all that much time for friends what with all the studying but he was starting to think his friends were right about him needing to get his nose out of books from time to time. “maybe we could go to a music store or something? You could help me pick out an album that isn’t just filled with piano solo’s that my parents got me.”

The Last of Us — Accepting.

Neon signs flicker overhead, their colors bleeding into rain-slick puddles pooled at the street corners. The city hums past midnight, a restless lullaby of afterhours machinery, distant bass, and the hiss of tires on wet asphalt. His, in fact.

The black motorcycle's engine snarls through mostly empty streets, tires screaming against worn asphalt. Somewhere above, in the towering skyscrapers, he's certain residents are cursing his name — not that he cares. Not when every thought is locked on one thing: crossing the finish line first.

He carves through corners with razor precision, weaving between rival racers. Every gear shift, every lean of his body, is calculated — not just to avoid disaster but to shave precious seconds off the clock. When an opponet threatens to overtake, he accelerates, leaving nothing but dust for the slackers to choke on.

At some point, the sommelier catches the faint wail of sirens in the distance—drowned out to most but unmistakable to him. Cops. They've been spotted.

His jaw tightens. Sure he has been here before, but tonight carries a different weight — the kind that comes with knowing a certain singer is somewhere in the crowd, watching, invited by yours truly. The sirens are close now, their wheep slicing through the night as footsteps scatter in every direction with the crowd dissolving. Steel blue hues sweep the fray, hunting for Sungil.

The words he's greeted with when he finds the other draw laughter from the back of his throat, mostly muffled within his helmet but he's certain the way his eyes crinckle at the edges gives away his amusement.

"Who said anything about luck?"

Mischievous as ever, he reaches back into the motorcycle's compartment, pulling out an extra helmet and pressing it against Sungil's chest as he lowers his own visor once again.

caring for the sick prompts.

...

the heat could make you lose your mind. some people would downplay it, especially if they're confident that their immune system was stronger than others.

hyejung hadn't expected it for her, either. for being a girl who was so adamant of taking care of herself - she underestimated the heat this time. there was a lack of food in her system as well, so one could guess that everything had contributed to her current condition.

she's embarrassed, with sungil's arm around her and her body temperature rising, she wished they could just throw her in an ice bath then and there. "eyy.. you didn't have to give me some of your drink, you know. i bought that for you. for your performance. which was... very great... by the way." her words were slow. it was hard to think, to even function.