#siromyel

munday meme // multimuse edition  // still accepting!

👎 which muse secretly (or not so secretly) loves terrible movies

oh my god – okay , i’m just gonna list these bc i am  ashamed  of them ( just kidding )

EUNSOOSAMANEIRINHEEJUN ( of all ppl …. )WOOJIN ( who do you think supplies sam and aneirin ? )ZHENLINGDOWON

🎨 which muse is the most artistic

EUNSOO ! he’s the artistic babe amongst them all honestly !

special shoutout to HEEJUN and his jewelry making !

we don’t talk about ZHENLING’s clay sculptures … no one talks about those .

🍒 which muse is the most innocent

i don’t really have  ’ innocent ’  muses – i do have muses that are on the positive side to the point of *seeming innocent though ?

HANBI is a prime example of someone who knows what it’s like to be hurt and thus she’s a very sweet and caring person

ANEIRIN has shades of it , mostly because he’s just very insecure and wants to be good to people

“―yea, well... well! i’m about to get to class, so i really can’t... we’ll talk about it later, jess, okay? bye!”

the door to the lab slams shut a little too hard, making her flinch as she hangs up and glances over at adam, the lab assistant. he barely looks up from his own phone, sending a half-hearted wave her way, and she breathes a little sigh of relief. she’d lied about class, of course; there was no benefit to letting her friends know about the hours she spends in the computer lab, fiddling around on photoshop and trying to forget all her projects that are due. it’s her little sanctuary, as humid and dusty as it can be; the computers haven’t quite been updated to the level of most of the other labs, which ensures that not many people will be around. she’s making her way toward the computer in the farthest corner, but to her dismay, she finds a very familiar face taking up her spot.

“alfred,” she mutters darkly ( or as darkly as she can manage ), depositing her bag onto the chair right next to his just to be obnoxious. “playing with robots again?”

he doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there, twisting his watch around on his wrist and staring into his reflection like maybe he’ll give himself some answers. they’re due at the venue in a few hours, but he still hasn’t picked a tie, hasn’t even seen a trace of his wife since early afternoon. it still feels strange to say it, in his head or out loud. “this is my wife, yingtai,” he tries, wetting his lips afterwards. he couldn’t even drag his hands through his slicked hair to let out some of the pent-up whatever that was trapped inside his chest. 

his bedroom becomes stifling, so he grabs the nearest tie and makes his way out into the hallway. the house is too quiet, even with the rapid clicking of yibai’s claws on marble floor. some irrational part of him things maybe tai’s gone, escaped this cage of a home to be free somewhere far away, like she deserves. it isn’t likely, but he entertains the thought as he nears tai’s bedroom door. the sound of his knuckles against the hardwood echoes through the hall, and it makes him grimace for a moment. “yingtai, could i come in?” it’s then that he realizes he doesn’t have a reason to be there, but it’s too late now. “i just wanted to.... ask you something.”

this is a scene that’s familiar to sian: bodies, everywhere, with thick smoke shrouding every head as heavy bass pounds against thin drywall and low ceiling. it’s loud, almost unbearably so, and sian’s getting to the point of crossfaded where everything’s just becoming a little too much. he shoves his way through the crowd, waving off acquaintances and flipping off friends before finally emerging from the stifling heat of the house and onto the front porch. there’s a couple getting a little too handsy in the corner, a guy literally drunk off his ass at the bottom of the stairs; classic house party shit. the beat of the music chases him as he stumbles down the stairs and takes a sharp right, through the open mouth of the garage where there’s bound to be far less people.

what he hadn’t expected was for the garage to be completely empty. there are signs of partygoers, beer bottles and cigarette butts littering the concrete floor, but he supposed they’d gotten bored of it and headed back inside. he falls heavily onto a couch pressed up against the far wall, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment before making the mistake of pulling out his phone. his fingers, as clumsy as they are in his current state, find her name easily enough. and when he hits ‘call’ he gets a wave of deja vu that makes him want to vomit.

“juri,” he says, even though he isn’t sure she’s even picked up. “this sucks.”