#eriskmi

@eriskmi  backdated: towards the end of december 2019

it’s hard for him to stomach, and even more so to admit, but with his phone clasped in his hand and his other tapping his fingertips against his thighs, wonwoo is worried, genuinely terrified, for the first time in a while. this certainly isn’t the worst he’s been and he hopes wholeheartedly that he’ll never experience that particular feeling ever again, but for the time being, it’s enough to make his body shake and his feet begin to pace. mingyu is safe in the apartment with him but there are friends unaccounted for, who he hasn’t heard from since before the incident he mostly slept through. the guilt weighs on his heart but he couldn’t have known there was more to the power cut than just that. he wouldn’t have slept if he did. he wouldn’t have been able to. 

he should just text. call, text— something. she isn’t going to update him without him prompting her to. hell, she doesn’t even know he’s concerned. he doesn’t even know if she’d gone along to the event but he’s sure he remembers her saying something about it. maybe she knew someone else attending, or had intentions to and didn’t go. maybe, maybe, maybe— he’d know if only he could bring himself to do something about it. 

swallowing ( a little of ) his pride, he finally types out a message and hits send. it’s not the most tactful but he has never been regardless.

‘cause i’m gonna be free and i’m gonna be fine— maybe not tonight. 📅 a cool early evening in early march. 

( tw !! violence, asphyxiation )

fuck what lucas says. fuck the fact that he’s always fucking right, that he has to always be fucking right when it feels like the world is collapsing in on her and she just needs ( wants ) someone to hold her hand and tell her everything’s going to be alright. it hadn’t meant to end in an argument, and perhaps it wouldn’t have if she’d have had a shred of maturity and patience about her, but after so many years, yeji’s fight for freedom clouds her judgement. what’s the point in being away from her father if she’s just going to do what everyone else tells her to do anyway? what’s the point in spending all those months planning only to throw it all away to listen to someone else who insists they know what’s best for her? what’s the point in anything anymore? can’t she just be happy? 

she thought freedom meant she could have it all, but now it feels like she has nothing at all. 

Jongin had a glass of champagne resting in his hand, untouched by his lips as he was in mission. Feeling quite fancy in a black suit, he was naturally portraying his character in the middle of many wealthy people. Well, not exactly in the middle. After doing some greetings and small talk around the venue, he took a spot near the wall, being able to observe the guests and also the host of the ball. The man held back a sigh. "If I had nothing else to do tonight, not even the food would make me want to stay here." He mumbled, careful as to not let anyone notice he was basically talking to himself. But rather, talking to his counterpart at the other side of his tiny in-ear. It was boring. For the sake of his job there, he was paying attention to his surroundings and whatever people would be chatting about, ready for any useful information.

"Where are you? Having fun?" A slight grin wanted to form in his face, moving his eyes softly to maybe locate Seulgi, although he was hoping not to see her - much better to be spread inside that place. They had been assigned to do some tasks together before, and while Kim enjoyed working alone, he couldn't deny that having her as a partner had its benefits. Aside from sharing the burden and responsibility of a mission, it was fun at the very least that she didn't seem obsessed or overly serious on their job when things were under control. Of course he only thought of it as a positive thing because, more than that, she was competent on her role.

All the smiles and head bows Jongin received were returned, and he considered for a moment that if he wasn't there to spy on other people, maybe he could have his fun. In fact they weren't given a lot of information about the ball - they were the ones to collect them. It wasn't just a ball. Something was going to happen and they could contribute to Phoenix's awareness of other gangs' objectives, maybe some faces that didn't mean to be known. The suspicion was Hydrus' envolvement on whatever they had to find out.

@eriskmi

Sungki liked to consider himself a chill person most of the time when he wasn’t on a case or throwing himself in the deep end of work and stuff. Most of the time on his time off, he found himself curled on the couch with his kitten on his stomach and watching anime of some sort. However, he did also enjoy going out (because who wouldn’t? it was a good way to learn new things that were happening around the city and discover new places to eat). It was originally on one of these quests that he discovered a cat cafe of sorts. Cats and coffee? hell yeah, that was his idea of a good time. So he had decided to frequent as much as time allowed him, since he still liked his apartment and his puddle of black goo that could melt him with a single look. 

The entire past week currently however had been so chaotic that sungki had almost become like a zombie. Working his own cases , plus all the other work he had to do just left sugki drained for the most part of the week. He decided once he had a free moment to run away to that cat cafe that he had discovered a few months ago. He swung his jacket on and left the main station, heading very quickly. 

jeongguk may have a real job, but he is, at the end of the day, a normal 22 year old. he doesn’t know a lot about cooking, but can get by; he’s smart enough to find recipes online and follow them to a t to get meals to work out, when he has the time. myeongcho never sleeps, however, and neither does the island’s crime. that workaholic streak protocol blamed on phoenix taking over his life persists even now, for a more noble cause, this time within his own will. 

it’s after his shift at the station, on his way home from his work at his desk and the hustle and bustle of new reported deaths and robberies and missing persons cases. jeongguk cares more now than he used to, heart thawed by a year surrounded by family and love, and sometimes, it makes his heart ache. there is so much loss, and he knows he contributed to so much of it. he used to count lives as pawns in his game, something easily snuffed out, never grieved by him, but it’s different on this side. it’s different seeing people respond to emergency calls, to be confronted by the amount of people that care about every illegal transgression.

it makes him want to work harder. he’s going to go home and find even more information on potential suspects in the case they have him working on, and maybe other suspects too, if he has the time and energy, but for that, he needs snacks, and it’s what brings him to bimil convenience store. (there’s something about this part of the island that comforts him, too. it doesn’t feel so dark as the city; it feels a little closer to home.)

he sees her first. it’s just her side profile, while he’s at the end of the aisle about to step into hers. she’s looking at one of the shelves, and jeongguk turns away from her, not too quick to catch her attention, and puts the hood of his sweatshirt up immediately before ducking around to the next aisle. eris of phoenix. jeongguk is the ghost here, but his face pales like he’s the one to see one.

they weren’t friends. they were long-term associates, working together in the gang from the start of their time in it. protocol felt no remorse in using his gunshot wound as a way out of the gang-- for a way out of phoenix and into the next life. as far as she knows, protocol is dead, and as far as jeongguk is concerned, he is. he hasn’t been protocol since the moment he took that bullet.

he knows she’ll still recognize his face though. they spent too much time together for her to forget, and now, with a little more humanity and a little more remorse, he wonders if he made her mourn. he hated phoenix; he doubted they would miss him and wanted any of them stupid enough to to suffer as much as he did under the gang, at least back then. now, however...he doesn’t know if he hates her, or if he ever did. 

one thing’s for sure: he doesn’t want his survival making it back to phoenix, so he needs to get what he wants (or the next best thing) and get out of here quickly.

hyoyeon doesn’t like cats.

she’s always been a dog person. they call dogs man’s best friend for a reason. affectionate and loyal. cats are far too humanlike: affection comes on their terms, and hyoyeon has never met a cat that doesn’t look like it’s plotting her murder.

still. the cat is clearly a domestic animal; long, spotless white hair and a lilac ribbon around its neck. it walks – no, it stalks – along the street, largely unnoticed by those walking on the streets, speedwalking back to their offices after their lunch break. hyoyeon doesn’t like cats, but she doesn’t want to see someone’s pet flattened by a tire. The cat’s survival skills seem to be non-existent: it edges closer to the edge of the sidewalk, as if attempting to cross across the street choked with traffic.

which gets hyoyeon thinking. that cat café – the one she passes nearly every day – that’s just down the street. it’s probably the source of that cat, and if not – well, they will know how to look after a cat much better than hyoyeon will. so she grits her teeth, approaches slowly before scooping the cat up into her arms. she hopes she’s not hurting it – but then it scratches her arm, three long scrapes on the back of the wrist – and she stops caring. it wriggles – since when were these things so…squirmy? – and she walks faster, until the door of the café comes into her line of vision. she barges in with no grace, almost falling over her own feet as the cat meows loudly in protest, getting a paw tangled into her hair.

its only when she looks past the squirming mass of white hair that she notices the member of staff in front of her. specifically notices that she’s pretty, and of course it’s her luck to meet a cute girl while covered in angry cat. she tries to think of something to say, but the animal interrupts, squealing again as it twists in her arms. she curses, holding the damn thing out. “i think this is yours?” 

reuniting with @eriskmi !!

she doesn’t look up once she enters the cafe, gaze focused on the change in her palm. it’s probably enough for a small coffee, maybe — she can never know at these places; if they hold themselves higher than the eiffel tower, she probably couldn’t even afford to use the toilet with the change she’d just conned out of a woman passing outside, a magic trick her disguise for slipping her hand into her handbag and grasping at loose bank notes. it’s all she has, though, after stupidly leaving her purse at home. at least, she hopes that’s where it’s waiting for her. she supposes she’ll find out later. 

regardless, she’d heard this place lived up to its name and if that’s the case, even a cheap coffee should suffice. purr-fect cat cafe— she could at least ( silently ) appreciate the pun. 

sentence starter meme 10. our muses warming up by the fire with blankets (hot chocolate optional)