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putting my Game face on

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SWEET & EASY. I WISH IT COULD 2683k

warnings: death, animal death, suicide joke, not sure if there's more so <3 setting: 2019

starring ryujin ha ft. haeum park and iori okada and taeri jules ma

When she was not yet Mom, when Ryujin's family was still whole, when his eldest brother was on his way to getting married, they lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere and nothing—a place not even the bus would drive down because the dirt road was always wet and writhing with worms. The strawberry farm was its eventual name because strawberries grew in abundance without much effort. They grew more strawberries than they knew what to do with, so strawberries became the bulk of their balanced diet and the main produce they sold despite being better at cultivating other things.

Ryujin had learned to make jams, vinigarettes, alcohol, ice cream, and sorbet alongside now-called-Mom who already knew how to do these things. Once, he had made honey when she decided to grow honeybees from scratch, though they didn't live past the spring. They ate strawberry cobblers and strawberry pies and strawberry cakes and strawberry granola with almond and coconut nibs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner accompanied by chocolate dipped strawberries for dessert. Despite how inventive they were with their recipes and despite the frequency by which they consumed the little red monsters, so many of the strawberries went bad. Often, Ryujin would find moldy strawberries under his pillow, squashed to a paste. Few had become attached to his shoes almost as if they were growing out of the leather. One strawberry had become his father's only good eye. It rotted him from the inside out; always oozing a sticky foul liquid. The sour smell followed him the remainder of his life.

On the farm they had chickens and cows and pigs and one horse and a dog that did nothing but eat the chicken feed, eat the pig slop, eat Ryujin's leftovers then later eat his brother's heart when they found the rest of his body three miles from their home. They had tried, once, to raise a goat but the dog ate even that while crying at what he'd done.

This was one of two things Ryujin thought about as Dayoo stood before him, her hair pinned back, fighting back tears in the middle of the full mooned night. Her dark shirt was speckled with a white stain no amount of washing could clear and her face was red from her crying—evidence, he guessed, of a genuine sadness their shared time together was ending.

The second thing he thought about was what sort of face Iori would make if their time together suddenly, abruptly, came to an end. There was no answer he could think of, only a hypothetical that Dayoo's broken heart was testing for him.

Together, Dayoo and Ryujin stood in front of her apartment building. Only one of the eyes of the three story building was lit. Dayoo's floor. The curtain was slightly drawn back and from the window her roommates—all of whom were models under the same company she was signed to—were watching them. They were not friends, Dayoo had expressed this on one or two occasions. The girls lived together in order to cut the cost of rent.

"I just like thought we were good. Did I—did I do something?" Dayoo was tall. She was the only one of her immediate family to average six feet—an inheritance from a great grandmother that always sat unsmiling in photographs. When she had auditioned in her teen years at an idol company, they rejected her. She wasn't that great a singer or dancer. However, she had a look they loved so she was signed to a sister company after the room had stopped laughing at her. It was a story Dayoo had retold fondly, but Ryujin could only imagine the sadness her younger self felt as the adults laughed at her for daring to dream.

He was reminded of Jules as he looked at her, struggling to hold back his grimace at the red of her cheeks, her falling tears, her constant sniffling. His skin crawled.

"You didn't do anything," Ryujin assured. "It's just—things are busy. You know how it is." Much of his schedule was blank. It had been this way since Sooyong's passing. No one knew what to do with him and if they did they seemed reluctant to execute this idea or tell him.

His days were blurring into one another. The prospect of a debut felt further and further away. He stuck with Poser not out of some foolish trust in the company but an understanding of what it meant to be their trainee. There were opportunities and followers and endless praise and trips to fashion shows and money if Ryujin's manager could land him a small gig that didn't get in the way of anything important for the higher ups. These gigs were growing less and less. His manager was a shell of who she once was. Her time and energy was being divided, split, stolen.

Dayoo was busier than Ryujin was. Models had to be in order to not fall into the cracks and become a what's her face or do you remember so and so or a pretty girl with only Pinterest fame to her name. She was slowly climbing up the ladder of relevancy. She was a favorite of fashion girls on Twitter and Tiktok who were always looking for a new style inspiration to tack it girl status to. The tabloids were comparing her walk to Yasmeen Ghauri and calling her thee supermodel to watch out for even though the word supermodel held no real meaning these days.

Despite her love for modeling, Dayoo still wanted to sing and dance on stage. In her spare time, she attended a dance class and was a frequent karaoke goer. Ryujin had gone with her twice to karaoke. Both times, he had left her was stunned. She had never once thought he had real talent. Their karaoke trips ended shortly after. Dayoo kept a dirty songbook she scribbled in that she had shown him on their sixth outing together. Her writing was bad. Her metaphors were corny and borrowed from American pop hits but there was a charm to the clumsiness. There was genuine love behind every word.

Iori kept a song book as well. Hers was much older than Dayoo's and she never shared this book with Ryujin unless—well. He wasn't sure what prompted her to let him occasionally glimpse at the fraying pages, the smudge words, the songs that seemed to talk about a different time before there was Ryujin and Jules and Iori, later a Haeum add on. But she did share with him and he found them as brilliant as her. Her songs were good enough as demos for hotshot artists. Her songs were good enough for her to go independent. Her songs were good enough for a solo career. None of these were things Iori wanted.

She wanted to be an idol. She wanted a group. She wanted to do fanmeets. She wanted fansites and lightsticks and stage performances and Inkigayo sandwiches and ISAC and MAMA performances and cheaply made awards. She wanted these things some days. Other days it meant nothing to her. Whatever, she would say. It doesn't matter anymore.

"I just really like you Ryujin," Dayoo continued on. "I want this work out."

These were the facts of Ryujin: As much as he did not date, he did not break hearts nor did he work things out or tack labels to things that should remain without labels. He was not Dayoo's boyfriend nor was he her friend nor was he anything more than a guy she met occasionally when she was in South Korea and his phone bill was paid.

There had to be love for a heartbreak. Ryujin only loved a handful of people.

What he wanted from Dayoo was the same thing he wanted from all the other girls he had brief sort-of-things with. This want was kept to himself. A mystery in a mystery in a mystery—the matryoshka called Ryujin Ha.

"I'm sorry, Dayoo." The apology was bitter in his mouth. "I wish it could but—" he trailed off, schooling his expression to one of a sad lover boy with nothing left to give.

He thought of Jules again and her eyes that had grown into a dulled gem, a stark difference to that of Dayoo's that often held mischief and warmth and curiosity. It was like meeting Jules all over again.

Dayoo's crying only grew. Without meaning to, Ryujin recoiled, disgust making his cheek twitch as he struggled to remain understanding and sincere.

Around the sob that fell out of her, Dayoo choked out, "My name's Hyein."

After seeing Dayoo off, Ryujin walked down the quiet road until he found a two way split in it. He laid on the pavement and stared up at the starless sky. He imagined the moon falling and crashing into Earth, killing everything on impact. He imagined the night itself falling like a thick blanket over him, smothering and warm and peaceful.

On his farm, the moon and stars could not exist. Refusing to accept this reality, his brother started throwing the strawberries up at the endless stretch of sky. For two weeks, the strawberries dotted their enclosure of the great big world. The strawberries learned to twinkle and sparkle. They fell out of the sky the same day his brother disappeared. Mom too.

Ryujin shut his eyes. He inhaled. He could taste something sweet and old and familiar in the air. It clung to the back of his throat even as he exhaled. At the sound of a car slowing to a stop, he opened his eyes and sat up. He came face to face with the bright headlights of Iori's beat up car. Under his palms, the ground was cold. It was solid.

Ryujin opened the passenger side where Haeum was sitting and gripping onto his seatbelt. Haeum blinked as if coming alive. He looked at Ryujin the same way he had looked at him the very first time they met. Haeum was open and honest. He could not hide a single thing despite how much he believed he was succeeding at it.

"Hi," Haeum said.

"Hey." Ryujin extended his hand, patient. Haeum leaned closer so Ryujin could run his fingers through his hair, marveling at the new color. Blonde Jules and, now, red Haeum. In the short time Ryujin had been away, things had changed. They always did.

Except Iori.

She was constant in a way he liked. It made him think she refused to go forward without him and that she was tethered to the monotony growing like a hard shell around the pulp of Ryujin's life.

Ryujin moved his hand away. His fingers were tinted—either from the cold or leftover dye in Haeum's hair. Maybe both. "Alright, get in the back."

"But I was here first." Haeum sent a pleading look to Iori but she busied herself with the radio that hadn't worked since she bought the car two years ago. Ryujin waited, already knowing the outcome.

Haeum, betrayed, unbuckled his belt and climbed into the backseat, huffing to himself. Once he was seated in the back, Ryujin settled in the passenger, adjusting his seat as far back as was comfortable. He kicked his feet on the dash.

"I wish you wouldn't do that." Iori sped down the residential area even before Ryujin full closed the door. She adjusted her speed when she saw the speed limit. "Don't you usually Uber?"

"Yeah." Ryujin left his feet where they were. "But I owe them like 60 bucks."

"Just pay it."

Ryujin laughed at the ridiculousness of her suggestion.

Haeum peeked his head between the seats. "I can pay it for you."

"I know for a fact you have less money than I do."

"No?" Haeum replied, unsure. He licked his lips then asked, slowly, "How was your date?"

Ryujin shrugged. "We broke up." It was the easier answer. It was what Haeum wanted to hear each time Ryujin came back.

"Oh." Haeum struggled to hide his smile. "Okay."

Often, Ryujin could picture Haeum waiting at the door for in the same way a dog patiently waited for its master. Haeum struck him as the type to endlessly scroll through Ryujin's Instagram feed, jealous at the strange people he did not know that made up a hidden portion of Ryujin's life.

Ryujin mustered up tears and stared idly out the window. It took two sniffles for Haeum to notice then he was rambling, flustered and embarrassed by his reaction. "I don't know why anyone would break up with you! You're a nice guy! Too nice! On like Tiktok and stuff everyone's all like the dating scene is trash. No one cares about anyone and we're in an era of social decline and also the decline of empathy and I know you care and that's why you get hurt and—"

"Social decline," Iori echoed, amused. "The trash dating scene. All real problems affecting Ryujin."

Haeum nodded, eagerly. "Exactly!" As sweet as Haeum was, he was also far too easy. His reactions, his expressions, his existence—it all scratched an itch that Ryujin lived inside of. All Ryujin wanted to do was take a big bite out of Haeum and steal some of the marrow from his bones. Not out of need but out of something else he struggled to name properly—something connected to Iori.

Where Jules saw clay, Ryujin saw mud and, occasionally, glass. He did not want Haeum to change as it was this Haeum he was so attached to. Where was the joy in another version of such a sweetheart?

Ryujin bit back his smile, pleased at Haeum's reaction. "Thank you, Haeum. That's kind of you."

There was more Haeum wanted to say, but he dropped it in favor of stewing within Ryujin's compliment. He leaned back in his seat to hide the blush on his face. He mumbled, almost unheard over the sound of the engine, "Well, you know."

Ryujin did not know but he could guess. "Have we talked to Jules?"

"No." Haeum was still upset by her abrupt and nonsensical departure. He believed she had a blind trust in Jisoo and that her love for him was built on Jisoo's deception and Jules' misplaced guilt over the death of his father. He considered Jules' departure to be the worse moment of his whole life—the exact words he used when sharing the news with Ryujin who knew there was much worse that had happened to Haeum.

"I have," Iori said.

"Noona!" Haeum cried. "Our pact!"

"She said Jisoo might make her kill herself by the end of the week. They're going shopping for furniture and stuff." A pause then Iori added, "Very domestic, ain't it?"

Haeum rolled his eyes. "Domestic my foot."

Ryujin had to agree.

Iori smiled, playful, but she offered nothing else and let the conversation lull into a comfortable silence.

Ryujin rolled down the window. He filled in their talk with what Jules might have said then stopped when the imaginary Jules' words annoyed him. "I forgot her name. Da—" He hesitated, "Hye?"

"I forget things all the time too." Iori tapped the side of her head. She glanced in the rearview mirror to watch Haeum stare at the cars passing hers. "But they always come back. Even if—" She waved her hand around, confident Ryujin understood what she meant.

Ryujin imagined Jules pointing out how strange that all was. She never forgot. She would liken herself to a pit things get thrown into, overfilling but unable to stop taking. Iori might have considered herself rusted and old. The sort of thing with a lost rich history.

"I think that's fine. Nice even." Haeum said, suddenly distracted. "We aren't supposed to remember everything." And Haeum, sweet and easy Haeum—who knew what he thought himself to be like, but Ryujin could guess. He could and, well, he would fill Haeum like a strawberry tart, ignoring the rot of something once good and alive.

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!?!?!??!!!!!!!!!!!!

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the worst is happening.... blue lock has me wanting to get into real football

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POWDER ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR. I'LL TAKE EVERY CRUMB I CAN GET 1370K

warnings: death, sort of suicide idealization esp if you squint, not sure if i missed anything so <3 setting: 2019

starring haeum park and iori okada and taeri jules ma ft. ryujin ha and jisoo kang

The bathroom reeks of bleach. The sink is covered in powder and stained blue. Iori scrolls through her phone as she sits on the edge of the tub while Jules gushes over her reflection in the mirror. They have fifteen minutes left before her hair is ready to be washed but Jules thinks they can wash it now and her hair will still come out the pale blonde she is hoping for. They don't have toner because Iori figured the blue in the bleach would be enough. It won't be—Jules knows this from firsthand experience but she'll let Iori see that for herself.

The smell makes Jules dizzy. She always gets anxious she'll pass out from the fumes or develop some sort of unheard of disease she can't be cured for. When Jules imagines herself dead, she imagines Ryujin and Haeum crying over her corpse, their hands joined together as they mourn their favorite and only other friend. She can't imagine Iori crying and every attempt to feels like she's perverting the Iori she's come to know and love as her half heart. Still, it's nice to imagine an Iori that would cry when Jules is dead.

Jules' face is itchy and a little red, but she blames that on the heat of the apartment. The AC broke three weeks ago. Iori said she'll get it fixed and has been watching every and all Youtube videos she can on the subject. By next week, she'll call a repairman, not out of defeat she'll assure, but due to Ryujin's constant moaning and groaning of how intolerable the heat is.

Ryujin doesn't really live here. He mostly lives in the bedroom of whatever new model is calling him boyfriend. He could be in Paris, New York, Beijing but always, without fail, he comes back to the familiarity of this small apartment.

Over the years, Jules has grown fond of their shared space. There is a single bathroom and two rooms—one for Jules and Haeum; the other Iori's. Ryujin will claim half of it as his when he's here. There's a kitchen without a dishwasher but Iori doesn't mind doing the dishes and, sometimes, Ryujin will help her, all smiles and small talk as he dries the plates and puts them away.

There are moments Jules is too aware of how crowded it can be. She's bumped into Haeum as he's leaving the bathroom, his voice a low and flustered sorry. Shoes stack in front of the door and late at night she'll trip over a pair. When the dishes aren't done they pile in the tiny sink, water spilling onto the ground. Once, only once, she brought home a boy and Ryujin walked in on them. Later, he told her: don't ever do that again.

Still, this is home for Jules even if today will be her last day here.

There is shuffling from down the hall. Jules knows it is Haeum because of his heavy steps, his quickness to find her. She's been waiting for him, anticipating this eventual encounter. Jules has run through this conversation a hundred times. In each version, Haeum is kneeling with his head in her lap begging Don't go! Don't leave me! She can practically taste his tears as she counts down the seconds till he appears at the door.

He would have seen her suitcase by now, half full with her clothes. He would have seen the state of their shared room: a folded stack of clothes, the sheet off the bed, the pillows missing their case, her sock and shoes strewn about. He would then ask Ryujin why? when? because Haeum always asked Ryujin about things he didn't understand about Jules or Iori. Depending on who Ryujin is with, depending if he's on a flight to a different country, or an Uber back here, back home, he would or would not answer.

She reaches fifteen just as Haeum rounds the corner. "Why the fuck are you moving in with Jisoo?" Iori looks up from her phone and his anger shrinks into something far calmer than it actually is.

"Hello," He politely greets her. Then for some reason, "Sorry."

There is no kneeling and begging. There is no please please please Jules. There is a wide eyed look at the mirror. There is Haeum's eyes drifting, taking Jules in, staring too long as he tends to and she thinks: I'll take every crumb I can get.

Jules smiles at him in the mirror's reflection. Her scalp tingles. Her eyes water from the smell. She is wearing a t-shirt that is Ryujin's to avoid ruining one of her favorites and sweatpants Iori had given to her years ago that have become a staple for her. She wears them to sleep, to the grocery store, to the mall, to walk nowhere in the middle of the night. "He asked me and I said I'd love to."

Haeum's expression sours. "You'd love to?"

"That's what I said."

"Fuck off." He glances to Iori. This time she doesn't look up. "You're not moving in with Jisoo. You don't even like him. You—you called him a fucking loser just the other day!"

"I'd never say something so mean," Jules says, cheerfully. She uses the nail of her pointer finger to gently itch her scalp.

"Be serious."

"I always always am."

Haeum lets out a frustrated noise, a mix between a yell and a groan. "Noona!" He cries, stepping towards Iori. He kneels at the edge of the tub and holds her arm, gently shaking her. "Why are you just letting her go?"

"Because I don't care," Iori responds, plainly. "And I'm not her mom." She swats at Haeum's hands. Then again when he doesn't let go. "Cut that out."

Haeum shuffles over to Jules, finally, finally kneeling at her side, holding her hand in his. "Please don't do this." His eyes are big and desperate and Jules thinks this is the moment she finally decides she is in love with Haeum. She pets his hair and her other hand rubs his cheek like she's comforting a poor, sad puppy.

"I'm not even going to be that far. You can always come visit or—" Jules says to Iori, expectant, "Jisoo can move in here."

"No. Is the timer for your hair done?"

"I thought you were timing it?"

"Is he blackmailing you?" Haeum asks, furious. "Because if he is—"

"Jisoo doesn't have the spine for that." Iori stands up from the tub. Haeum turns to her then back to Jules when Iori tugs down her shorts. "Look on the bright side. You'll have your own room."

Haeum seems to grow even more upset. He stands up. He shakes his head in disbelief. Defeated, he spits out, "Fine. Whatever." And then he is gone and will probably cry about it to Ryujin or unpack Jules' suitcase and hide the things she'll need most.

Jules peeks out of the bathroom to watch Haeum walk away, unable to hide her giddiness. She can't help her affection for Haeum. He is brand new. He is brand new! That makes him a rarity amongst them. Iori, Ryujin, and Jules have known each other since they were children. All of Jules' early memories are with those two. From diapers to teenagedom and now adulthood—all of Jules' memories include Ryujin and Jules. Haeum is a boy from who-knows-where that has situated himself neatly into a generations old dynamic. Even Iori liked him and she's only ever liked one other person to the extent she does Ryujin and Jules. There is still so much to learn about Haeum. He doesn't speak of his family. Of old friends. Of first kisses. Of bad dates. He is a blank slate. He is a clay project that she can mold into anything and she wants to mold him into a perfect thing that can fit even better with them. She won't settle for good or great.

"Jules," Iori warns. "Don't take this too far."

Jules hums as she steps from the door. "I have no clue what you're talking about." She settles at the edge of the tub as Iori turns on the water, ready to wash her hair.

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i love C9....... like ik theyre not anyth here RN but IDK...... i js love them

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JohnnyBurger with a side of JenoFry +___+

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(In the morning, Jiahang had poked him awake, said: “Ge, what if I had a stage name like you, and it was like you.”

And Zhiming, who was still coming down from how much softness was around him on the bed Han Qiong made for him in the guest room, only muttered: “What.”

“Initials! It’s stylish, right? We could be like a matching set. It would be so fun!”

“Hm,” Zhiming said, tatting around the sheets for his glasses, blind by the morning sun.

Nothing else came. Not even when he rubbed sleep off the corners of his eyes, glasses perfectly in place, did he move his mouth. And just like that Jiahang had won, O.z had lost, and there was now ‘J.J’ written in an ugly scribble over the hangul Zhiming had carefully typographed on Jiahang's simplified line delivery sheet.)

“J.J’s my friend,” Zhiming says to the room at large, uncaring of the terrifying and terrified sound that comes out of Minwoo and Seungsoo, respectively. He hadn’t known it to be the truth until the words flew firmly and finally out of his mouth, but that’s the immutable state of where they stand. Inside the privacy of his own head, Zhiming even goes as far as to admit J.J is the only friend he ever had.

“He’s my problem,” he amends as he gets up off his rolling chair, now glaring at Minwoo and Seungsoo.

(Of course, O.z had not known at the time a single flaw of Jiahang’s, or any of his horrifying desires or ugly needs, because Jiahang was very good at pretending he had none when he was seventeen. He was even better at pretending to be nothing.

He was a blank sheet of paper with glitter glue all over himself at the daycare, and Zhiming was a grabby child that had just been given a box of crayons.

Maybe that's why Zhiming always thought of what they had – the sleepovers where Jiahang cried while ironing out his uneven bangs, the lack of distance between their shoulders when they shared spaces that made O.z too intimate with J.J's rotation of perfumes, “Call me back when you get off practice and hop on the subway home, Ge, tell me everything about your day, every single little thing, don't leave any details out, I want to know everything anyone could possible known–!” – as a shard of childhood coming late.

Fish biting the bait and getting stuck on the hook, their whole thing; it wouldn't survive long.)

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FIC FACT: Mae Ilwoo has spent over ₩55,191,079.60 on Fortnite skins

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Written By I.S Kang ────── November 15 2020

today just so happens to be a very special day, a very special day for freaks.. i guess, a special day for people who have no lives outside of monitoring the relationships of others who live across the ocean from you. today marks thirteen years since the enigmatic huang yuze and min jihae, now proprietors of upcoming group [name not yet announced] got married, their actual date of marriage, they still did get married twice after this however. yes you heard me, twice.

you can describe this pair perfectly with one word, strange. it isn’t a bad strange, in particular contexts’ strange is not that terrible of a word, they seem to embrace it greatly! from the moment they met and begin seeing each other in 2001, back while they were stuck down in the mud as interns at a not-so-terrific company with a weird connection that was definitely not hellbent on a push and pull dynamic. as eccentric they may be, riddled with terrible public statements (because if there’s something these two can’t do it’s keep their mouths shut), accidental publications blasting each other and their subsequent private lives, and an all around unhealthiness that keeps them bound together by fate.. or something.

before anything both stephen huang and min jihae were merely nobody, which you can say is true for all of us, but they both wanted to be something, something so important that it clouded all reason that could have been present in their minds. many people are said to have points of no return, points that change them and leave them completely affected forever, for stephen it was when he lost his brother at fourteen, rendering whatever relationship he had with his mother diminished, and for jihae it was when she had to get a tumor resection at seventeen years old, between death with no seeming way out.

so when they do meet, both nineteen years old and stuck in a sucky internship at a company without a successful group (RIX would not show up until five years later, oh well), they are not good for each other, many would still agree that they should probably split up before they do something worse than telling us the unwanted details of their sex lives while drunk—2016 was a strange year. if buried driving incidents and heightened screaming matches heard by their poor poor neighbors weren’t hard enough, the years they spent at l♡uvix audio were perhaps the worst of it, their words not mine.

the two never genuinely worked at l♡uvix audio, not even when their ideas were repurposed by older coworkers who then went on to capitalize on it all. though the allegations of one kwak seolhee plagiarizing jihae’s work and half–stealing her idea for the now dissolved angels kiss! have never been proven, nobody would put it past the scheming and not so nicely known woman to do such a thing. interns can only stay interns for so long, and after two unsteady years of bare paychecks, the couple were shuffled off to the newly established mirific records, where they were meant to thrash and struggle in order to make room for employees the company clearly wanted to keep around.

it’s clear they haven’t gotten over that at all.

so while under a subsidiary practically doomed to fail, the two combined whatever crazy mind powers they had and decided to.. write a book? yeah the two wrote a book, the secrets of aster, i’m unaware of where the idea came from but in between silently producing for the two existing l♡uvix audio groups, min jihae was envisioning some crazy concept for a story about vengeful ghosts getting justice for their brutal murders. i wonder if she envisioned seven more books and an about failed group to accompany that ip, but later that very year in mid–november stephen huang and min jihae got married.. legally. yes, they just walked off to a courthouse, got their legal documents in order, and were pronounced husband and wife. such a factor was only discovered because some crazy pre-debut fan of formerly sidus uncovered them in a definitely legal background check of the two’s identities.

it took them six more years to have their public wedding, november 15 2013, a point which was falsely claimed to be their actual marriage date, but whatever, who cares, right? the wedding was a hit, the photos were aesthetically pleasing and there was almost a physical altercation between old friends. it is everything you would want in an oversaturated celebrity relationship, one which would simply elevate then de-escalate as years passed, currently, with the announcement of a debuting group and various contracts under their belt, they seem fine. give is a great word in their case, because for many years it seemed they were anything but.

a lot of people think stephen huang and min jihae are toxic, unhealthy, skewed in a terrible direction and probably bonded by some crazy traumatic experience that explains why they seem so attuned with one another. perhaps they are genuinely in love, adore each other and found their calling as a pair who can give voice to both of their strange creative ideas along with trying their best to be something important. if anything is clear about this pair, it’s that they want to remain in the spotlight, be seen as worthwhile in an industry where it seemed once they could not succeed.

they just let it get to their heads sometimes.. okay most times, i’m trying to cut them some slack! #dontsuememinjihae #itsjustbusiness

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with jisoo kang and taeri ma

word count. 3062k warnings. death, grief, suicide ment, mocking of the dead, industry expectations and dehumanization

When Jisoo shows for the scheduled movie shooting, everyone, down to the little mouse that calls a quiet corner home, is surprised to see him. He doesn't need to hear it to know they are thinking: Poor boy with his dead father, poor kid without his mom.

It's been less than a month since his father's heart attack. Before, there there had only been the vague details surrounding the hospitalization of his mom. She had been a popular actress that had just scraped the surface of success before face then body were stolen by childbirth and other things she hasn't bothered to share with her only son. Now, his dead father would be another tragedy tacked onto the story of Jisoo's life.

Jisoo is not one to stew in his feelings especially ones he finds unsavory. He's navigated by adrenaline and a deep desire to be more than his father's son, mother's child, another name on a list of actors signed under his small company. After his makeup is applied, the director, Jin Daehoon, asks for a moment of his time. Time costs money, is money, so Jisoo is already preparing the words he will say when Daehoon says what Jisoo knows he will say. This is the second major movie of a director nicknamed Korea's Rising Star even amongst the international body of movie critics. Everyone is always rising never stagnant or fixed in a permanent place. There are opportunities at every doorstep, but these doors are only open for a limited amount of time and to a select few that fit the mold of what is considered desirable and popular.

Daehoon's story is popular. No one hates an underdog. He dropped out of school to work alongside a famous director of his childhood that didn't think he was worth a lick of shit. He comes from a single family home and had to grow up twice as quick as boys his age to help his aging father after his mom ran off with a rich man. He walked to school every morning with his younger sister and younger brother and would walk back home with them, making stops for convenience store snacks he bartered for. His family had nothing but the clothes on their back. His family had nothing but whatever scraps his father could buy on a minimum wage salary and government assistance.

"You don't have to be here." Daehoon has kind eyes. His hands are heavy. His words have an edge to them.

Jisoo has to be here. Otherwise, a different man will be casted as lead while he's temporarily mourned amongst the sea of other dead Kangs. Jisoo is not the kind of actor Daehoon likes to employ. Daehoon's leading men like movies and watch movies and eat-live-breathe the characters they are bringing to life on the big screen. Jisoo is casted for the role because Daehoon believes, wholeheartedly, he looks like the lead of this movie. It's only a bonus Jisoo is good at acting. If Daehoon really wants to, he can find great elsewhere.

Directors, producers, even the suits at the very top are as good at playing a part as the actors they employ. Jisoo understands Daehoon's concern is hiding a Don't blow this for me. No crying on set. If you're going to be here, then be here. Save the rest for home. The industry is a machine by which bodies are assembled then juiced of all their worth. What's left is a carcass pile where dreams once could grow. Daehoon is a cog. Jisoo is too. They both understand their relationship as a mutual one that can guarantee success or failure. Neither want to be a carcass.

"I want to be here." For the first time since meeting Jisoo, Daehoon looks at him with respect.

The shooting for the movie wraps up neatly. Jisoo is praised for his hard work and gifted a bag of cookies by the scriptwriter he's overheard call him cute. He's giddy with the weight of his success until that weight is a burden his manager tacks onto his shoulders with an assured, "I cleared out your schedules for the next few weeks. I know things are tough."

The palm of his manager's hand are wet with the perspiration from his water bottle. It doesn't reach his eyes but he attempts a smile that sits weird on his face. Yeonwoo is not a bad person, but he extends this dried olive branch because he has to. It would reflect poorly on his company if the actor with the dead dad didn't get some time off.

Things aren't tough.

His father was not a thing.

Sooyong was a living, breathing person who was always at a distance but loved Jisoo in the quiet way he had inherited from his own father. Things—the real things like schedules, Jisoo's career, his dreams— are in the hands of people far bigger than him. If he rests for even a second, someone new will take his spot. He will become the same as other one hit wonders and rising talents. He will be a rock that foolishly dreamt of being a comet.

Jisoo agrees to take time off but it'll only be a few days before he's begging for work. Commercials, Instagram ads, MCing—Jisoo will do it all and then some because things like loss aren't tough. They don't have meaning. The world will not stop because someone has died. Neither will he.

Besides, there's still the movie he wants to finish.

Jisoo gathers his bags. He says his goodbyes. He steps into the cool night. Then, he sees her standing outside his company building with a bouquet of sunflowers. She leans against the far wall with her hat low over her eyes.

He knows it's Taeri because she is wearing the too big jacket he gifted her when she was a trainee and he was a rookie actor, desperate for a lick of fame outside of the empire his father wanted to buid. Sooyong had been so angry at his choice to sign elsewhere, to avoid tying his name to Lordly Piece and the eventual boy group, Renaissance. It had, it seemed, been a good decision to avoid the company altogether.

He's not sure why Taeri is here. They haven't been on speaking terms for some time, but he still walks over to her.

At the sound of his rushed steps, she looks towards him. She adjusts her hat by lifting the brim so he can see her face clearly. She is wearing mascara and a pink blush that kisses her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her skin is a little glossy and so are her lips—either from gloss or a tint or a balm that might belong to someone else. He's happy she might have dressed up just to see him.

Taeri is a nice girl. She's sweet like candy apple. She is always smiling and is brighter than the sun at noon. It's her friends that are a sour mouthful.

"Yeonwoo told me that you'd be done a little late so I figured I'd wait for you." She hands him the flowers. "How'd the filming go?"

"It was fine," He takes the bouquet in one hand, holding them close to his chest as if it were a newborn. As if Taeri were gifting him a prized gem coveted by all the world. A single petal falls off. It's a yellowed afterthought on the front of his white shoe. "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't you get my text?" She shoves her hands into her pockets as he fiddles with his phone to find her message. "I wanted to talk to you." She peers over his shoulder. He doesn't mind as she reads his screen. She steps a little closer. He glances down and she's glances up with a cheeky smile. "Should we get a sweet treat on the way?"

She did text him. Is it okay if I come see you? He'd missed it.

Is it okay if I come see you? He wouldn't have responded at first. Is it okay if I come see you? He would have let it sit there. Is it okay if I come see you? He would have read it but not respond to let Taeri know he saw it but wasn't talking to her. Is it okay if I come see you? Maybe he'd leave her on read for a few days. Is it okay if I come see you? A week. Is it okay if I come see you? He'd wait till Taeri texted him again. Is it okay if I come see you? Then, he'd text her back.

Had he seen the message earlier Is it okay if I come see you? He would have said Is it okay if I come see you? Yeah, I want to see you too.

"There's a cafe somewhere." Jisoo shoves his phone into his pocket. "The staff here really like it."

Taeri grabs his arm and presses close to him. The plastic of the bouquet crinkles. "It'll be my treat."

They walk quietly. Taeri lets go of his arm to hold onto his sleeve when they cross the street. She looks both ways and tells him to do the same so he does, fighting back a smile. Jisoo doesn't bother with a hat but he made sure to wear his mask and sunglasses. The busy streets, the sound of the cars, the low singing of mosquitoes are all a murmur in the background. Jisoo can only think of Taeri's hand on his sleeve. The smell of jasmine that floats off her will, surely, be on him as well.

At the cafe, Taeri buys him a beverage he has never tried before. It's a seasonal drink being tested before the owners decide to make it a permanent addition to an always evolving lineup of cold brews and imported matcha. A purple foam sits on top a soy milk based chocolate drink. "It's Ube." The brighteyed, underpaid college girl is all strained smiles, all I wish I could be anywhere else. She stares a little too long at Jisoo but says nothing else as she hands him their orders.

They find a seat in the back. At this time of night, there are only a few customers. Jisoo imagines one as a business man that has finally gotten off work. Another as new to the area. Another as simply here, wanting to try a place that was on the way home.

Taeri splits her banana bread into uneven segments. She gives him the bigger slice and tops it with a dollop of whip cream that sits on her hot chocolate. She doesn't take off her hat but the hairs he can see are brown. He can't remember the last time she dyed her hair.

The bag of cookies are placed on the table. They're an assortment of chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, snickerdoodle, sugar, and flower shaped shortbreads with strawberry jam in the center. He tries not to make it obvious he's watching her but he's sure she can tell.

"I'm sorry about your dad," Taeri finally says. She licks at the pool of melted whip cream on her cup. He wills his gaze to the Ube foam that is slowly melting.

Jisoo uses his fork to poke at the purple cloud. He responds, bitterly, "Sure you are."

"I am," Taeri says honestly. "I didn't like him but—" she trails off and allows the silence to do all the talking. Jisoo imagines her saying: But I care about you.

And, for a second, it eases the sting. Then, he thinks of the comments made by her friends about his father. He's seen the public ones, everyone has, but there are other comments retweeted on Taeri's private twitter. He's seen Saeru say his dad should have killed himself years prior. He's seen Iori say Sooyong's only contribution to society was forming their group. He's seen Daoliang retweet funeral photos with cigarette emojis. He's seen Haeum call him a waste of space. They've mocked fans for sending condolences or crying over the loss of a man they never knew but still mourn. The small circle of celebrities he follows privately have all joined in the laugh fest because they wanna feel good and special and important to Taeri and her friends.

Taeri hasn't made any jokes. She's never been as cruel as the others. Still, Jisoo tells her, "It's really fucked to talk about him the way you and your friends do."

He's never shied away from his open dislike of her friends—at least with her. They both know he could never tell someone like Iori she's an asshole. She'd laugh at him. No. She'd walk away.

"Why would they like your father?" Taeri presses. "He wanted me out of the group."

"He probably had his reasons."

"Yeah," She laughs, a dry sound that sounds unlike her. For a moment, he thinks it sounds almost mean. "His son went on social media to call me a conniving little bitch."

Jisoo's face warms. A year ago, he made a drunk post about her that his company helped bury. Yeonwoo had scolded him for being so careless. Jisoo could've sworn he'd shared it on his private. He hadn't even thought she'd seen it because she never brought it up. "I didn't mean that."

"Okay."

"I'm serious. I only said it cause Jaeyun—"

"I don't know who that is."

Jaeyun's an actor he knows. An ex-idol trainee that said they both have a Taeri shaped problem. Jisoo believed him especially when he'd been shown photos of Taeri and him at concerts, clubs, parties. "You're lying."

"Why would I lie about that?"

"He said—"

"You're believing some guy over me?" She's hurt. Though she tries to hide it, Jisoo has always been good at picking up her tells.

"No, I just—that stupid post doesn't make what you guys said okay. If they said that bout your dad you'd be mad too." Was he mad? He thinks so. He thinks he has to be because Sooyong is his father.

"My dad is nothing like yours."

Jisoo doesn't know a lot about Taeri's family. Though, she mentioned her family was big and she was one of the younger girls. He imagined a lot of sisters then sometimes a lot of brothers. He imagined an idol father and an idol mother and a meet-cute story they share all the time at dinner. Taeri was the perfect picture of love to him. She seemed to bleed it. She seemed to share this life with her friends who were knotted in the center of some secret story no one could read on their own.

"You're not an idol, Jisoo." She continues. "You don't know what we have to go through or what we deal with on a regular day basis. Who we have to deal with."

Jisoo scoffs. "Please, you wear small skirts and dance around on stage. Like that's hard." It wasn't like he was wrong. Taeri's job was no different than his—they both performed. They both kept up appearances.

Taeri pushes the crumbs of her cake across her plate with her fork. Her eyes are glossy like she might cry at any moment. Jisoo won't fold. He's not wrong. Sometimes—sometimes he just gets—he doesn't know. He can't explain it. With Taeri, he's always on defense. He's always trying to make her see it from his point of view. She's hurt? He hurt her? Well she hurt him. He's hurt too. It'd be easier with Taeri if she didn't have those stupid friends. He knows she's good and kind and great. Knows there is more to Taeri than whatever it is she wants to be now.

"You say these awful things about me, your dad tries to fuck me over, and then it's my friends who are wrong 'cause they don't like him."

"They are wrong!" He takes a steady breath, embarrassed at raising his voice.

"No," she says in a calm, quiet voice. "They care about me. I thought you'd understand that or—" there's a slight tremor to her words. "Or was I wrong to think you cared about me too?"

He does care. He likes Taeri so much it's suffocating. He would call it love if it didn't come with so many strings. If a possible rejection didn't make him so nervous.

Taeri looks like she's about to start crying and it eats at Jisoo's resentment—now seeming so childish. "I'm sorry. Taeri, I'm so sorry. I should never have said any of that about you. I didn't even mean it. I was just jealous."

She doesn't say anything for far too long so he adds, desperate: "I don't care about the comments. I know—I know my dad wasn't the best person. I can't imagine what he put you guys through."

There is a picture of his father forming, an image he'd forgotten of a a school trip where Jisoo is the only child without a parent present. The aftermath: Ice cream sandwiches Sooyong split with him, his apologies for forgetting, his kept promise to never do it again. It's the absent father Sooyong Taeri had to know. She doesn't get the ice cream sandwich treat that soothes over the sunburn of a school trip Jisoo didn't care for. Jisoo's father was his father. For anyone else, for Taeri, he was Kang Sooyong of Lordly Piece. Another man entirely.

She reaches out to grab his hand and squeezes it softly.

"Are we cool?" Jisoo whispers.

"We're cool."

Their fingers loop together. Taeri glances around the cafe. The worker is busy on her phone. The other patrons have disappeared into the night: faceless, nameless, nothing at all. She and him are alone here.

Taeri takes the moment to lean forward and press her lips against Jisoo's. It was lip gloss but most of the stickiness has been wiped off. By her glass. Her fork. His lips. There is a warmth to Taeri that seeps into Jisoo. He feels it pooling around him. He feels it pulling him deeper and deeper into her. Taeri tastes like banana and walnuts. She tastes like milk and chocolate. She tastes like the beginning of something that almost feels real.

[soobvape]

who were mirae sonyeo? ✹✹✹ an idol girl group born from the nugu project eggtart — the same story that created the otome game t͟a͟n͟g͟e͟r͟i͟n͟e͟ and their nugu brother group, mock orange. they were based on the tangerine heroine who was given  the magic to decide the future of the world. under the careful eye of their creative director, romance, mirae sonyeo — the girls from the future — were set to wow the stage with their first asian tour. described wholesomely by their small fanbase as k͟p͟o͟p͟'͟s͟ ͟m͟a͟g͟i͟c͟a͟l͟ ͟g͟i͟r͟l͟s͟, the most fame the girls ever tasted came after their disappearance, initially filed away as a quirky promotion tactic until police reports, distressed statements from family members, and the alleged final moments of the members caught on the cellphone of darling.

while the four members — darling, rosemary, cherubi, and gin — have been confirmed to appear in the r͟e͟c͟o͟r͟d͟i͟n͟g͟, an unknown fifth girl shows up at the very end asking for help.

[soobvape]

can i put shotaro back in nct

[soobvape]

Ahn Jaehee has a popcorn kernel stuck in between his teeth that he can feel with his tongue but not his finger

[soobvape]

aster ( 애스터 ), formerly known as sidus the years prior to twenty twenty one is a south korean boy group under mirific records. created by a rather well-known yet eccentric ( and controversial ) pair stephen huang and min jihae, the group is named after the eponymous eight–book psychology thriller series the secrets of aster, a story echoing various depictions of death while too exploring the horrors of life. originally a boy group project meant to span across another generation, continuous failures, company controversies and consistent fall throughs pushed back the project until it suddenly disappeared from the public eye, no longer to be commented on and willfully ignored by their creators in interviews.

they were not completely gone, however, it was a mere development error which had the couple rethinking their project. about ten years ago mirific records bad been nothing but a small-scale subsidiary under one infamous l♡uvix audio, relegated to the projects the much bigger company would leave behind for the minor leagues to scramble at. most projects would never see the light of day, trainees left abandoned with their dreams crushed, but for some stupid reason, sidus continued pushing on. perhaps it was just due to their creators having irritating tendencies, always asking for advancements, more time, just a little more money, more and more and more and then we’ll have a group ready for you, but the thin string between them and their parent company begged to snap at any given moment the days stretched. fortunately, or unfortunately, however you may look at it, the subsidiary would end up breaking off from their parent company when the debacle of 2016 occurred.

but of course problems ensued, for five more years problems ensued. constant lineup changes, boys in the headlines for things they shouldn’t have been caught dead doing, trainees leaving and being caught passing hands in back alleys at three in the morning, yet the group would not just die. they were akin to a zombie, rising with their skin just barely clinging to their bones and feeding on the bare helpings they could eat up. there was no giving up, however, stephen huang went on record stating himself; “we have not yet just given up on our goal, setbacks cannot keep us down”. it seemed he was prophetic in his words, as by the end of that very year, they had a lineup, the perfect lineup, eight boys, a debut set in the coming year. were they perfect? no. did everybody get along? absolutely not, but it did not matter, because they had a group now, and they couldn’t get anywhere but up!

well they went down once more. their original maknae had to pull out of the project and leave the country following reasons which have remained ambiguous, but there was no looking back for the pair, so the group went on as seven. debuting on january seventeen twenty twenty one, aster were introduced to the world as a group with a strange concept about ghosts searching for the meaning of their lives alongside one very mortal. it was smooth sailing until a few couple allegations against a certain member, whispers from insiders caging the small company about his verbally abusive actions towards his own members, there was outrage and a general sense of need for an explanation. a few washed up statements attempting to do damage control and admittedly hilarious fansign moments later, he was swiftly removed from the group not even halfway through their tenor. there may be whispers of the members pulling strings to get him out, their alleged shared hatred of him shining in prior group interviews, but rumors will be rumors, right?

a few months of silence went by following the disappearance of one member no one was sad to see go, then suddenly the announcement of a returning boy awoke everyone and their friends from the dead. the temporary hexad was now back to being a septet, with their original maknae and an air which seemed to make things much easier. back to where they were meant to be all along, aster continued picking up the pieces from where it all began. tied together by ghastly visuals and really haunting music, aster have cemented themselves as a somewhat musical anomaly, hellbent on taking listeners through what can best be described as an ‘existential crisis concerning the presence of death in our universe’.

⟡ ݁₊ . THE BASICS ✭

GROUP NAME. aster ( 애스터 )

LABEL. mirific records

DEBUT DATE. jan 17 2021

GENRES. k-pop, dream pop, ambient pop

CONCEPT. answers beyond death, ghosts and understanding the horrors of life

GREETING. “your shining lumen! hello we are aster!”

FANDOM NAME. nova

⟡ ݁₊ . THE LINEUP ✭

EUN YIJOON. ‘00 ✭ LEADER, DANCE, VOCAL

CHEN ‘RYONG’ HAORAN. ‘00 ✭ RAP, VOCAL

XAVIER ‘RHYS’ CHOI. ‘00 ✭ VOCAL, DANCE, VISUAL

SON ‘ARES’ JISUNG. ‘01 ✭ VOCAL, DANCE, CENTER, VISUAL

SILAS ‘SIU’ KANG. ‘01 ✭ VOCAL

SONG ‘KIRAN’ JUNGMIN. ‘02 ✭ VOCAL, DANCE, RAP

LUCIAN ‘NEVE’ HEO. ‘02 ✭ VOCAL, DANCE, VISUAL, MAKNAE

⟡ ݁₊ . THE DISCOGRAPHY ✭

INTERITIO. ( JAN. 2021 ) ✭ MINI ALBUM

MY DILEMMA. ( JUL. 2021 ) ✭ MINI ALBUM

A LETTER TO THE MOON. ( DEC. 2021 ) ✭ SINGLE ALBUM

PROJECT BLUE STAR. ( APR. 2022 ) ✭ MINI ALBUM

PROMIS3. ( NOV. 2022 ) ✭ MINI ALBUM

SHANGRI-LA. ( FEB. 2023 ) ✭ FULL ALBUM

LOST HORIZON. ( MAY. 2023 ) ✭ REPACKAGED FULL ALBUM

CAELUM. ( JAN. 2024 ) ✭ MINI ALBUM

SARGASSO SEA. ( SEP. 2024 ) ✭ SINGLE ALBUM