#lucky:dev

[wymcrw-archive]

NIGHTMARE

Source: Drabble Prompts        Status: Accepting!

Over the course of five dreams Lucky is visited by the ghosts of the past, the present and the future. It’s like A Christmas Carol if all of the ghosts were Kang Jin and Scrooge went through some serious life altering trauma. Fun times all around!

TW: Dissociation, Traffic accident, blood, alcohol, hospitals, needles, guns

i.                    Park Jihun fears nothing.

He fears nothing because he has experienced nothing. Twoshort years ago he cheated the reaper and against all odds lived to tell thetale. Few things are more terrifying than the end, and after conquering deaththere is little else to be afraid of.

And so when he closes his eyes at night he sees nothing.That same tranquil darkness that had engulfed him before. Silent. Cold. Empty. Tonightthough, it’s different. Tiny whispers carry through the void to torment him,the black seeming to ebb and flow with each hushed syllable. “This secondchance is wasted on you” It hisses. “Liar.” A familiar voice. “You should neverhave woken up”

It isn’t loud. In fat it’s barely audible. But in theinfinite blackness with nothing else to focus on it’s louder than breaking thunder.“You will never be a good man” It comes again, harsher now. He can feel hisskin prickle with cold, his mind racing. “It should have been you” He’s aprisoner in his own body unable to run or hide, tormented by the darkest partof his own consciousness. “Useless. All you do is hurt people”

Silence comes as quickly as it had departed, and he is leftreeling. He can feel himself taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself butthe sound doesn’t come. Instead, a few parting words ring out.

“Nobody missed you last time. They won’t miss you next timeeither.”

With a loud gasp he wakes, eyes shooting open. He doesn’treturn to sleep that night, or even the night after It isn’t the first timethat he’s had that dream, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. Some fear death.But Jihun fears what comes after. The emptiness, and an eternity stuck withnothing but his own thoughts.

ii.                  Park Jihun fears no evil.

He fears no evil because morality is nothing but aconstruct. He has to tell himself that to get through his days. Not everythingin this world is black or white; in fact most everything is a shade of grey.

These thoughts occupy his mind as lets his eyes driftclosed, opening them again to find himself on one of the fittingly grey streetsof New York. Rain lashes his skin as he takes in the scene, the hum of traffic hangingthick in the air and the faint amber glow of nearby streetlamps illuminatingthe city that he once called home. A wave of nostalgia washes over him as hedrinks it in. As much as he has learned to like Wonyang, he truly misses this place.

Hearty and full bellied laughter catches his attention, andit’s only then that he notices the figure stumbling towards him from a baracross the street. Throwing an arm around him, the stranger looks up at Jihunwith a dopey grin before dragging him off down the street. Clearly his new companionis intoxicated. He once again finds himself a passenger in his own body, unableto move or make it co-operate in any way. The pair stumble down the street,sound of splashing puddle ringing out with each uneven step. The scene seemsfamiliar though he can’t quite place it.

The faint jingling of a man fishing around in his pocket givesit away, and it is only then that he realizes exactly what is about to happen.His nostalgic yearning morphs into panic as they approach a nearby car, but no matterhow hard he tries, there is no denying his vessel. He catches sight of areflection in the glass. It’s him. But younger. Two years younger. He fightswith all his will to call out, to get them to turn around and leave, but thewords get stuck. Instead he simply laughs at whatever the other says, the resoundingclick of the door locking behind him seeming to seal his fate.

You know how this story ends. The driver swerves to avoid ahazard that isn’t there, his hazard perception thrown by the alcohol in hissystem. Jihun tries to stop him but can’t. The car ends up wrapped around a streetlamp,and by all rights they should both be dead. Jihun is unconscious, and wakes updays later in hospital to find himself an amputee and his friend wheelchairbound.

Except this time he isn’t unconscious. Instead his vision isstained red from the deep gashes on his face and a thick smell of burning lingersin the air. Shards of glass litter their bodies and bent wreckage pins themboth in place. A searing pain rips through him as he struggles against thebonds, but he still can’t make a sound. No matter how much he tries, he can’tscream. The driver seems to be in an even worse state, but he can’t bare tolook. The best he can do is cough up blood. It’s only a few seconds more beforehe passes out, but it’s enough time to see the cold stare of something unmovingthrough the shattered windshield.

A figure. A man. A reaper. A dragon.

iii.                Park Jihun fears no man.

He fears no man because men are easily manipulated. Personalexperience tells him that they are even easier broken. The best stories alwaysrequire manipulation to some degree, whether it be the facts or the angle. Overthe years he’s learned just how pliable the human will is, and he has noproblem using that to his advantage. He always ensures that he has the strongerhand, no matter the cost.

In these dreams this is not the case. There’s no stackingthe deck, or counting cards. The twisted ghosts of the past bend the rules totheir advantage, baring the darkest parts of his mind and soul. He dreads sleepnow. Works through the night on his articles just to keep himself from driftinginto unconsciousness. He has lived through them once already, is that notenough?

But whilst the human spirit is malleable, the needs of thehuman body are not. And so when he inevitably falls asleep once more, he prepareshimself for the worst.

His head throbs as he fades back into reality, eyesfluttering as they adjust to the blinding white light of the room. It takes meremoments for him to register his surroundings, a sinking feeling taking over assoon as he glances down to the iv in his arm. Where his first nightmare hadbeen nothing but blackness, this was nothing but white. White walls, while floor,white ceiling, white door, white window, white linens, white light. White.

Last time he had found himself in this room, laying on thisbed, it had felt like a prison. An overwhelming sadness overtakes him as helays there, eyes fixed on the space above his pillow. That was how he had spentmost of his days: In silences, stewing in his own self-loathing and staring atthe ceiling. This place held nothing but the most terrible memories, from therealization that he had lost his leg to the moment his marriage truly fellapart.

At the foot of his bed he hears murmuring. One voice belongsto his ex wife, the woman who had effused t leave his side throughout hisrecovery and the other… didn’t belong. Another chill sent shivers down hisspine, and he slowly manages to glance down towards them.

Jin. Truly this was a nightmare. Or at least he hoped so.The two had never met to his knowledge, and knowing what he knew about Jin he’dhoped to keep it that way. He can’t make out the words but they seem intense.His wife seems distraught and Jin has that same malicious glint in his eye asalways. Their tones are hushed and they keep shooting their eyes towards himand then back to each other. “He’s no better than me. All he does is destroy.”He thinks he hears.

The scene fades, as if he’s been hit with some sort ftranquilizer, and when he returns his wife is stepping standing, slowly walkingaway. He reaches out a hand, tries to force himself to call out but the wordsswell and get caught once more. It’s only once the door slams shut behind herthat he manages to sob out a simple “Please… don’t leave me alone again.”

“You think that I trust you enough to leave you alone?” Itcatches him off guard and he flinches slightly at the question. Jin. Sat nextto his bed, cigarette hanging lazily from his lips and glare boring into Jihun.

iv.                Park Jihun fears no beast

He fears no beast, because no matter how feral they can betrained and bought to heel. Or put down. When he’d found himself cornered likea wild animal by his own family, he’d chosen the former. Work under theirthumb, tow the family line and pretend to like it or go back to languishing inobscurity with no support and tens of thousands of dollars of medical bills.

He finds himself at some formal dinner, mixing with an assortmentof deplorables and trying to keep the peace. The contempt on his face is evidentthroughout and he makes no secret of his distaste for such gatherings, but forthe most part he remains civil. ❝ i don’tsuppose you’ve been to the united states before, have you? ❞Jin asks at one point far too casually for his liking. It’s easier to justanswer the questions than to resist them.

There’s something about this that seems more real than the precedingdreams. He knows it isn’t real, but it’s almost disconcertingly convincing.Every movement, every line of speech is identical to the party just a few weeksprior. He has more control this time around, able to move and speak, though helargely chooses not to.

The night passes without incident, and it’s almost relieving.Compared to the visions that had come before this was nothing. But then, itwasn’t over yet. It began to diverge from reality as he began to make his waytowards the exit. A voice called him back, asked him to remain on the premisesuntil the other guests had departed. Apparently Mr Kang had requested a privateaudience. He hadn’t bothered to ask which.

And in this dream, he never finds out. Instead, afterwaiting for the building to empty, he finds himself on the receiving end of a bullet.“It’s nothing personal” Says the person who fires it, the only warning that isgiven before the tremendous boom sets his ears ringing. He doesn’t see a face.Doesn’t bother looking. He’s too busy writhing in agony on floor, desperatelyapplying pressure to wound. He doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but inthe moment it’s all he can think of.

The awakening isviolent, Jihun thrashing to life in his covers with a startled shout. He sitsup in his beg, clutching at the space where the impact point had been. Hisheart was racing and breaths ragged as he sat there. That had seemed real,because it could have been. For the first time in a long time, something clawedat him: fear. He was in over his head in shark infested waters, and if they wereto get the scent of blood….

v.                  Park Jihun fears Kang Jin.

He fears him because he is no man; he’s a dragon. He fearshim because no matter what cards he holds, the house always wins. He fears himbecause morality is seemingly without meaning. And he fears him because hecould return him to the cold nothingness without so much as breaking a sweat.

Jin makes one more visit in Jihuns dreams before vanishinginto the ether once more. Once again he finds himself confined to a bed in a hospitalroom, the other sat beside him with that familiar cold and steely glare. Hegoes to sit up, wincing at the pain in his chest from the bullet wound of theprevious night.

A hand pushes down on it, forcing him back into the mattresswith a pained yelp. “This is your only warning. Don’t cross me, or next timeyou don’t wake up.”

[wymcrw-archive]

cornsilk for jaebeom, white smoke for lucky

source: shades of whitestatus: not accepting

cornsilk:when something is funny, do you usually laugh loudly, hiss, snort, chuckle quietly to yourself, or smile and nudge the person next to you?

Jaebeom is the type of person who finds a lot of things funny, and his first instinct is always to laugh loudly and more often than not uncontrollably. If that is wildly inappropriate for whatever reason however, he is pretty good at controlling himself (to a degree) and will just chuckle quietly. No matter what he does though, he’d definitely be nudging whoever he was with at the time and making sure that they’d heard the joke or seen whatever had set him in a fit of laughter.

white smoke:do you enjoy a good debate or prefer keeping the peace?

At this point in his life I don’t think that Lucky even knows how to keep the peace anymore. Every conversation with him will almost inevitably devolve into a debate, or at worst a full blown row. Through his career in journalism he has developed a cutting and concise voice, and has formulated a strong opinion on pretty much everything, Too proud to ever back down or concede defeat, he thrives when he’s arguing.

Anyone who has had a thread with Lucky or read him on the dash will know exactly how much of a nightmare he is. If the situation calls for it he can just about remain civil and agreeable, but that really is a struggle.

[wymcrw-archive]

Park Jihun / “Lucky”: Task (10/05) - 1/2 - source

NOTE: Since the answers are pretty long I’ll be splitting this task into two parts for both of my characters (So four posts total). Everything is currently in my drafts and will be published over a couple of days so as not to span the dash too much.

「✔」: what type of person would your muse like as a husband/wife, if they ever thought about getting married?

Lucky was actually married for quite a few years while when he was living in New York, and though things fell apart pretty quickly after his accident he still considers the early years to be the best of his life. He’s always been the type of person to dwell on the past and has spent a long time mulling over why things happened the way they did (Clue: it was because he was the worst), but he’s finally reached a point where he’s starting to move on. That being said however, he’s not actively looking for a romantic partner for a whole host of reasons, not least of which is that he is convinced that he would cause the relationship to self destruct again. It’s easier to ignore the bomb’s fuse than dodge the shrapnel.

With that being said if he were to find someone they would most likely have similar traits to his ex-wife. The two of them were complete opposites in pretty much every way. They would need to be patient, able to deal with his negativity and understand that his work is always going to come first. Since his job is such a pressure cooker environment, they would probably be relatively relaxed and low maintenance. Warm, understanding: Just a good egg.

Love at first sight is not something he has ever experienced or believed in, and it’s extremely unlikely that he ever will. He would only ever enter a relationship with someone that he already had some sort of bond with.

「✘」: what type of person would your muse most likely not feel attracted to at all? what traits (negative ones) would they need to have? explain.

In his attempts to do good Lucky has found himself willingly playing a villain (See  ✪ for more), and in doing so has amplified his worst traits. If he sees those traits in someone else, it’s an immediate red flag. These include, but are not limited to: petty, vindictive, cold, short tempered, overly cynical and inpatient. He doesn’t have the patience for mot people at the best of times and as stated above is unlikely to ever pursue anyone, but anyone too similar to himself would be considered under no circumstances.

Physical appearance and gender identity are not factors that would have any impact, however he will only date people within a similar age bracket to himself. Three years either way is pretty much the limit (Although that could change depending on the person).

「♋」: we all know that every sign has its traits, good or bad, which ones apply to your muse from their sign? why do you think so?

This is a subject that I’m not especially well versed in, but after doing a little bit of research it looks like I couldn’t have picked a more appropriate sign. Lucky is an Aries and he fits pretty much every trait I found listed online bar one or two. Courageous, determined, confident, honest and passionate. Impatient, short tempered, moody, aggressive.

「♪ 」: music! it says a lot about people, doesn’t it? what type of music would someone find your muse listening to? how did they get into a specific artist/band? do they have any singer crushes? do they hate singers or music genres?

Find a playlist of songs and artists you’d find on Lucky’s phone here - Fair warning: This stuff is not going to be for everybody, and if you don’t have a taste for the heavier side of rock music you’re probably going to hate all of this.

Most of the music that Lucky listens to is produced by western artists, and he really struggles to relate to or understand the appeal of a lot of the stuff that is popular in his home country. Whilst living in New York, Lucky found himself falling into the local punk and hardcore scene. Anyone who knows anything about hardcore will tell you that NY is notorious for having one of the most unrelenting aggressive scenes with some of the angriest bands in the genre. He doesn’t have any singer crushes, and though he has a general distaste for anything that strays too close to the mainstream, he doesn’t hate any specific person or genre.

He’s still tries to keep up with what is happening in rock music on the other side of the world, but it’s pretty tough so he finds himself listening to the same handful of bands. Some other artists that aren’t on the playlist that he’d listen to include Minor Threat, Trapped Under Ice, Against Me!, Alkaline Trio and Every Time I Die.

「☆」: not all parents are the best, the kindest, the most understanding. what’s your muse’s relationship with their parents? do they still talk? between their family, who does your muse trust the most, leans on the most?

Oh boy. To say that Lucky doesn’t get along with his parents would be the understatement of the century. At this point he cannot be in the same room as his mother without proceedings devolving into a shouting match, and his relationship with his father is equally as strained. Though tey were never exceptionally close (Quite the opposite, actually), things took a turn for the worse when he published a story exposing how their shady business practices and willingness to sidestep regulations led to a series of accidents across their properties. It nearly sunk the family business, and he was effectively disowned until recently.

They have significant sway in the media industry and prior to moving into property were both publishing magnates. They both still dabble in this world, and installed Lucky as editor of the Wonyang Ilbo. As such he has found himself reluctantly leaning on both of them more and more. He would not trust either of them in any capacity, having seen how ruthless they are and how willing they are to throw anyone under the bus at any given moment.

「✞」: not everyone is religious and we must respect that. how does your muse feel about religion? do they believe in a god above, controlling everything? what’s their religion? if they don’t why not?

Though at one point Lucky may have believed in some higher power, his belief has faded in recent years. He would now consider himself an atheist. Whilst he has no problem calling someone out on most things, he will never use someones faith as a stick to beat them with, even if he himself is not a believer. His work has shown him the worst sides of both people and the world, and the idea that this could all be part of some grand plan seems preposterous to him. 

「✿」: arts! we must respect that not everyone can draw, paint, write, sing.. but even though they cannot do these things, something artistic must be of their liking, right? what does your muse like and appreciate more from all the forms of art? if they could, would they write, sing, draw.. ? favourite artists (writers, painters..)?

Fine art is not something that Jihun has any interest in. In fact, he actively dislikes it. During his childhood and adolescence he saw paintings change hands for extortionate amounts of money, and so now relates the medium (And especially anything by any artist of renown) to the stiffing privilege that he hates so much. With that being said he is a big fan of the more unconventional forms of art. He loves performance art (Think people doing similar things to Marina Abromavic’s early work), and anything that deliberately tries to push people’s buttons.

If you were to call it art he would sneer (Or possibly punch you in the face, really who knows?), but Lucky was in a few bands before moving to Wonyang. He was kind of an oddity in that he could go from throat shredding screams to smooth 80′s influenced crooning. Nobody outside of New York has heard him singing though, and he has no intention of changing that any time soon. (VC: Greg Puciato. Screams here. Singing here. Both here.)