woohyun videobombing btob

Over And Out || Solo

Secret; [see-krit]

adj. done, made, or conducted without the knowledge of others:

secret negotiations.

It's been five years since he joined the Brotherhood. He usually doesn't count those kinds of things, but from time to time he realizes that there's been so long already; probably the longest he's committed to something. 

When he thinks about the one recruiter that convinced his mother one day, five years ago, when he was fresh out of his fifteenth birthday, he knows that it was the best thing he could have done. No, he wasn't moved by the 'cause'. No, he wasn't driven by a mad desire to kill every single human that thought about mutants as walking garbage. He thought about himself - and her.

He still remembers the smile on his mother's lips when she told the other man to 'take care of her baby'. And the same story repeated itself, this time coming from the lips of who she still knew as a teacher; someone who wanted to help. That second part was true. 

In his head, he made a deal (maybe he sold his soul to the Devil himself, but he doesn't care) and he got everything he wanted from it. Power, knowledge, wit, survival skills and a broad vision of the world. He gave his mother a better life; he's following his dream still; he has no regrets of the path he chose. Maybe she would be if she knew, but she doesn't - and maybe he knows that she only pretends not to know; maybe he knows that she looks at him and wants him to speak, but waits patiently. He thinks she deserves to know.

He is afraid; that she might not understand, that she thinks he is less than he is for having thought that it would solve everything. It didn't, but he is still grateful. He would do things exactly the same and that is saying that he has no regrets - it's true, he doesn't. For everything he experienced, for everyone he met, for every second that he was there, he doesn't regret it. 

He doesn't regret passing out inside one of the jets one night after exhaustion took over him. He doesn't regret being found by that one pilot that taught him that flying a plane was more than just switching pretty buttons up and down. To fly was to be free and he was grateful for that freedom.

He doesn't regret the nights of wandering the base, of raiding the kitchen and sitting on the counter with one apple in hand while the whole space was suddenly filled with the scent of ethanol. One bit on an apple while the other peeled the only orange still available on the fruit bowl. It was never uncomfortable until one day it was. Still, he doesn't regret it.

He doesn't regret the afternoons playing with the cute little dog that lived in the filthy garage and who left his hands filled with grease the moment he touched him. Much like his owner - exactly like his owner. He likes to think about the one guy that was more of a brother to him than anyone ever was. He doesn't regret calling him 'hyung' and meaning it; because deep down, he wished they shared the same blood. He taught him how to point at parts of a car and give them names - their real names - and he taught him all the bad things as well; the first time he actually had to steal a car, he thought about the older. He also taught him how to pray albeit in his own way because Ilhoon was never religious, but for the first time in his life he had something really important to ask for. It didn't work and he blamed the universe and he blamed people and he blamed himself. Maybe if he prayed the right way; maybe if he believed. Maybe.

He likes to think that everyone that crossed his path had a reason for it; that everyone he talked to for more than a day or two, had an impact in their life. Like the people he met when he was a kid, terrified of his power and what he could do with it. Like the times he called himself a magician and had someone agreeing with him. He likes to think that even if he's hurt a few people along the way, they'll forgive him because he never actually meant any harm and he will make up to them - to the one that stood up to defend him once and he still didn't manage to thank him properly. He will. For the rest of his life, he will.

To the one who lent him an umbrella on a rainy day. To the one he never managed to look straight in the face because it made him remember. To the grumpy 'ahjusshi' that smiled a little brighter when they were together even if the kid had a way to impose his will and take advantage of him whenever he felt like; he will look at his little tattoo on his left wrist and think of one of his favorite people.

adj.  excluded, sheltered or withdrawn:

A secret hiding place 

There is no chaos left in him and while he should take it serious, he can only think about the drag that will be, not being able to travel through the portals between cities. He knows he won't be able to go around TLOW as much as before but even though he is going back to his little island for now, he still plans on finishing his college; he is still going back to Musa when the new semester starts; he is still taking him along and maybe that's why he doesn't regret a single thing. Because what made him afraid before, just makes him confident now and everything he regretted not saying, he's spilled through looks and touches and hugs. He found something he was not looking for and he he doesn't regret it. 

He regrets nothing. 

Parting adj. ending or taking leave

He never used the board for anything other than scribble over the recurrent sheets of paper from Sanha's very own anti fanclub; it was for fun, of course, he both loved and hated the mechanic in a way that worked somehow and their bickering was more than obviously coming from a very (very) strange friendship. 

It's weird to be using the important board for something like this, but it's Jung Ilhoon and the kid is and will always be shameless so he takes the black marker and writes down on the back of some important notification that Se7en ordered to be placed there. (Oops.)

"As of this day, the brotherhood is a little more empty and you fuckers are gonna be fucked without me, but well, fuck it. Text me if you need a hand - maybe - or just... not.

To Shark-face: you won't get rid of me easily. I know where you live ~

To shitty doctor: I still hate you :|

To Jong-ahjusshi: you're still my favorite grumpy old man.

To Yoongi-bear: I can still beat your ass in a fight; step up your game, dude.

To Kwang: Sorry I was always so weird around you. The problem was never you, it was me. And no, this is NOT a pickup line, ew.

Sorry if I forgot someone, but this shitty paper is just not freaking long enough. Se7en-hyung, please get longer sheets of paper, I'm an artist for fucks sake, I need space for my creativity, damn. ...ok, I love you, boss-hyung.

Thanks for everything, you cool little bastards." 

Jung Ilhoon -- the best fucking terrorist you will ever meet

He makes a few more scribbles on his signature before he deems it perfect and places the paper back on the board. He's sure it will draw everyone's attention anyway - which is just what he wants. 

And then he picks up his bag which is half-empty because he never had too many things at the base to begin with and throws it around his shoulder as he passes by the hangar and thinks about how many hours he'll have to wait to get out of there. But then it hits him and he glances to his left, a little over his shoulder, to the beautiful black jet he used to pilot on his training days. 

He smirks; moves gracefully toward the aircraft and wonders what kind of punishment he'll get once they find out he took it. But his bag is already inside and he is sitting in the cockpit, pressing a couple of buttons and putting on the headset and adjusting the mic. "I'm not stealing it, just borrowing without permission. You guys know where to go to get it back." He says, grin wider as the aircraft starts moving, coming out of the hangar and soon after, lifting off and disappearing in the sky.

“Don’t worry, people usually don’t have that perspective unless they’re exposed to it.” He said, shrugging his shoulders and probably the matter as well, but he liked the fact that Peniel enjoyed the new perspective he’d been given. Moreover, he liked that he was agreeing with him and listening intently, as if his every word was the single most important thing ever. Maybe it was just his way to exaggerate things - as always - but still, that was how it was in his own little world. Him, him, him. And then him.

“She’s perfect.” Ilhood added. When it came to his mother, there was no biggest fan and maybe people would tell her how sweet of a child she had and how kids these days never listen to their parents and just don’t care about them  ninety percent of the time. He never cared for the father he didn’t have, but the lady that brought him to the world, she was his everything.

He wondered for a little while, to see if his mind would agree with Peniel when he told him he would be happy in Sanya. He only went there once and it was definitely not a very pleasant trip, but not because of the place but rather the situation he was caught in so that didn’t really count. Maybe if he was a native, yes, but nonetheless, he could never imagine himself being from somewhere other than his little island. He was the sand and the ocean and the wind and the scorching hot sun of that island embodied in one being and there was no other place he’d rather have been born other than there.

It was not hard to decide to close the umbrella and let the rain fall on him. The cold, fat, drops of water fell heavily, finding a path from his quickly flattening hair, through his neck and on to the light-colored shirt and light, orange cardigan. It was going to be quick to get drenched if the intensity didn’t slow down a little, but still, he could feel his body wanting to shield itself; make the drops of water levitate in the air, sealed ino little particles of the heavy, surrounding air. He kept himself from giving into temptation though and pretend to be the normal boy next door whom Peniel had just met and given his umbrella to.

“Food is worth almost everything.” He let out, hand raised and fingers pulling his, now, wet hair back. Despite the strong downpour, the temperature didn’t drop - in fact, the rain seemed to have ‘cut’ into the cold from before and made the night a little less cold. He wouldn’t want to get either hypothermia or a pneumonia or even a cold. God forbids Jung Ilhoon from getting sick because he was a whining baby who demanded even more attention than on a regular basis.

He thought about the question for no more than five seconds. The answer was already on the tip of his tongue and he found Peniel weird not for being so crazy about storms and rain, but for asking that kind of question. “Of course not, why would it be weird? And why would it be bad to like it more than ‘normal’. In fact, ‘normal’ is what you want it to be, really. Who says that what is normal for me is normal for you as well? We like what we like and no one has to say a damn thing about it. Maybe some people think it’s weird but who care? I sure don’t. It’s like someone being obsessed with unicorns or the color green. I mean, if you like green unicorns, then go and do it and be happy in your green-unicorn-world. There’s nothing wrong with it.”He spat, words said at the speed of light.

“And by the way, loving storms is way more normal of a thing than green unicorns, really, just for the record, but I’m pretty sure, someone in this world does. The little freaks.” And then there’s a snort, half-though a laugh that was only partially out. Maybe he sounded just plain weird to Peniel, but he didn't really care. 

My Mistake

 (...)

Magic sounded a lot more special and a lot more.. well, magic. It had some sort of naive connotation that he liked and it felt as if it took away all the weight of calling it 'power'. It was also a way to embellish things that Ilhoon knew, weren't all that pretty and accepted. It sort of lifted a weight that no one deserved to have on their shoulders. Sometimes, he felt like it was even poetic - in a way - and he liked it. He liked it a lot. 

Ilhoon was not too good at deciphering what people's expressions meant and their silence was often misunderstood and made him wonder instead of just giving him enlightenment. So, he had no idea what was going through Taekwoon's mind; he might as well be thinking about his favorite kind of cheese or plotting world domination and Ilhoon would think his expression looked the same. Maybe it was Taekwoon's face that was the problem. Probably, he decided.

But then there were words and those, he knew very well how to interpret. He knows what 'abilities' are when it comes to magicians like him or Taekwoon. He knew how they didn't need to hide the rabbit inside the hat to make something amazing happen and most of all, he knew their magic was genuine.

"How..." He started, but stopped, realizing that the sentence was not coming out as he'd thought in his head. It sounded stupid and he didn't want to sound like that. He was smart enough not to make a fool of himself after all.

"What is your ability called then?" And he wants to ask what is your power and what can you do besides that? And do you deal with darkness and shadows or there's more? He wanted to ask so much but words seem to escape from his mind. So he decided that new introductions were in order and his arm is quickly extended, hand for the other to take - again. "I'm Jung Ilhoon, elemental sealer, at your service, well, not really at your service, but that sounded nice." He spats, a million miles per hour, but he trusts Taekwoon to be growing accustomed to his rapid-fire speech. 

Down by the Bay // Ilhoon & Taekwoon (past)

for anonymous.

The Broken-Hearted Club

It happens to him all the time - wandering, that is - and he knows he can be proud of having a relatively good sense of direction even at places he doesn't know too well. He is used to his beach and his turtle bay and his small house where he can go to his window and look at the ocean. Musa is different, but in a different kind of way. It's more vibrant and anywhere he looks, the walls are full with paint; different motifs from different artists and there, he knows why the city seduced him. He can smell paint almost everywhere and he can recognize the smell because that is how his room has smelled like for the past 10 or so years. Spending three years at the base did no good in taming that adventurous side of his, but it did do a very good job at enhancing it. Somehow, he had been craving for freedom. For more than a dark base, a small bedroom, a grease-stinking garage and filled practice rooms. He liked the hangar though and he will have the time to go back after all; he still practices there and then there are the missions. For now, he is simply enjoying his 'freedom' and getting acquainted with his new city and he finds himself doing a pretty good job for the past month. He likes walking around the city at night. It's not dangerous at all - or at least he doesn't have a reason to think so just yet - and it's fun. Especially when he hops from club to club even if he is not old enough to go in there yet or even drink for all that matter. The bartenders and the security tend to find him cute and strangely of age, so they indulge him half of the time. Usually, he doesn't find too much inspiration at those places. Instead, he keeps liquor as a fuel and someone else as a backup to take him home - or somewhere else - and it's usually a good-looking guy who seems to be the least bit decent. That night, however, he inspiration strikes him when he gets out of club #2, bottle of beer half drunk in hand, and spots a guy looming around. He would say he is lost, but he doesn't look like. Just indecisive. "Admiring the architecture?" He asks the moment he approaches the other male. He looks even better from upclose. "Are you meeting someone inside or just wondering if you should go in? Because if it's no for the first one, I think I might have a weird proposition for you."

The Right Kind Of Wrong

His mother has always told him that sometimes, bad things happen but there was always a reason for it and that maybe he couldn’t see it right away, but he would get it in the future. Ilhoon doesn’t think he will. He likes things to happen fast - meaning by his own, fast pace - and waiting for divine justice was never his thing.

That must be also why he had no patience whatsoever. Sometimes he craved for things to happen and it did not matter if they were good or bad. He just wanted some excitement in his life and while he might not have expected, life did give him excitement. Of the worst kind.

Ilhoon was not a coward. He might be weird, frisky and loud, but when it came to it, he knew how to defend himself. Or so he thought. Placing his arms and hands in front of his face was an easy way to defend himself from the punches and for a guy who didn’t know how to fight, he punched really hard and ran extremely fast.

He couldn’t say he was getting used to it, but the last weeks had been extremely keen on showing him that this routine was probably staying for a while. He could not say he didn’t see it coming. Dismissing and masking his abilities had only been taken to a certain degree and while he knew his powers were getting a little too out of hand, he still thought he could handle it. He couldn’t.

But then there was someone who seemed to be oblivious or maybe just too naive for his own sake. Someone who decided to step in - recklessly he might add - and defend someone he’d never seen before. Why? It was still a mystery to him, but he can see Kwangmin (he thinks that’s the kid’s name from what he remembers) and he crosses the road, shoes in his hands because he’d rather walk around barefoot.

“Hey!” He calls out, backpack’s strap falling from his shoulder and hair slightly toussled from his constant ruffling (in frustration, of course). He doesn’t have a queue of pursuers behind him this time, but he’d rather not risk it again. After all, he already got rid of them today, he doesn’t feel like fighting again.

"Kwangmin, right?" He asks, just to be sure, but he thinks he got it right. "Why do we seem to bump into each other so often these past few days? What’cha doing?"

©

He is two seconds away from pouting and telling Jonghyun how boring that greeting was when he was told to go inside.  'Child'. It's endearing when it comes from Jonghyun's mouth because he means it in an extremely affectionate way and not as if he is giving the word it's true meaning only. It must be one of the very few people that can get away with calling him that and getting a smile instead of being kicked aside. 

Ilhoon positively hops inside, little childish jumps before he closes the door by using his foot and then makes a beeline and places himself behind the couch where the older has collapsed on. It's easy for him to throw himself and place both his arms around the man's neck, keeping him in a gentle lock while he whines at him. 

"So that's my hello hug? Hyung, you're getting too old, look at you with no energy at all." He let out while keeping his arms around the other's shoulders. "Ahjusshi! Are you hungover? You know, you promissed me my tattoo and I trusted you but I wanted you sober. You know my skin is precious. So what can we do to make this hyung here feel better and wake up once and for all?"

Blank Canvas

Why did he agree on giving Ilhoon of all people a tattoo? Jonghyun would blame it on the alcohol. Frankly speaking he knew how Ilhoon could be they had been “friends” for a pretty long time. Kid was cute, but annoying as hell when he wanted to be. Don’t get him wrong though he wouldn’t trade him for anyone else…maybe.

Laying down on his couch with a pair of old gray sweats and a white shirt, Jonghyun wondered what he was going to get for lunch this time. He didn’t have anything to make in his apartment. Possibly he had some peanut butter, milk, and a half bottle of whiskey and three beer bottles.

Sitting up as he hears the insufferable knocking of who can only be Ilhoon. Groaning he stretches before moving slowly to open the door. Rolling his eyes at the kid’s words Jonghyun pulls the door open and shakes his head at his antics.

"Get in here child." Jonghyun turns around and collapses on the couch once more before covering his eyes with his arm.

He doesn’t know why, but there are probably only two things that he takes seriously in his life: his art and his missions. He knows the reason behind the first one. It’s a part of him; it has always been and as such, he can’t seem to bring himself to slack on it. It’s almost like an obsession - a disease, some may call it - some kind of craving for perfection that makes him be hard on himself and therefore, improve. He thinks it’s in a different level when it comes to missions, but not less in importance. There is some kind of want to be better, to improve, to jump over each barrier that is placed in front of him.

He is an individualist. He loves people, but he likes to do these things on his own. The fact that someone thinks there is a need for two people to complete that one assignment, makes him think that there has to be a catch somewhere in there. And it makes him think even more about that when he finds out just who he’s been paired with. Out of all the people on that base… why him?

They’re awkward. No, scratch that, they’re more than awkward. Ilhoon rarely talks to Youngmin; he tries to avoid him, yes, he can admit that to himself (but never to the other male, of course), nor can he disclosure the reasons that make him so uncomfortable by just looking at his face. The whole thing makes the hair on his arms stand up; it makes him think of things he doesn’t want to, of a past he didn’t bury deep enough and how cruel is life to place a carbon copy of someone he can’t see, right in front of him? Maybe Youngmin is getting the short end of the stick even without knowing, but life wasn’t fair anyway.

Hiding in his room won’t make the mission go away, but it gives him some more time to study the few details he needs to revise before he leaves. It’s not too long before he does so and in the end, he is walking down the corridor, passing through rooms and more rooms before he is remotely close to where he is supposed to meet the other terrorist. But still, he is distracted by the soft vibration of his phone inside his pocket, taking it out only to see the notification and the familiar username. He thinks he has time for one quick reply even after musing over the fact that his online friend seems to be having a similar problem to him. It never failed to amuse him how often that happened too.

mj1004: same

He presses send but doesn’t even have the chance to look at it to see if it went through or not because the collision nearly knocks him down and his phone falls flat on the floor, screen dark for good measure. “Shit, man!” He lets out, managing to keep his balance before picking up the phone and tapping at it to make sure it didn’t break. He pockets the device and looks at Youngmin once as he speaks. He so doesn’t want to be doing this with him, but it’s too late to go back. “Uh… I suppose you took a good look at the info, right? Studied the blueprints and all?” Because he sure did “So I think we should just… I don’t know, split tasks and get down with who does what. I think it would be faster than we just following each other. Have you thought of something?”

Murphy's Law

Youngmin frowns at the tips of his shoes, not at all pleased with the new mission. He’d very much rather do it alone, or with someone he’s more comfortable with, but he hasn’t much choice in the matter.

Jung Ilhoon. He doesn’t know the other terrorist well, so he’s not entirely sure why the powers-that-be would pair them up together. It’s not for a lack of trying, (it is, actually, he isn’t good at being friendly), but maybe they just don’t click. Not to mention the fact that Ilhoon’s a little awkward around him, for reasons unknown. Still, he doubts it’ll be difficult working with Ilhoon. Make the most of it, right?

Which leads to the million dollar question, really - where on earth is Ilhoon? He’d gone to the training rooms to find him, and even the training rooms, but no luck. Going over the details of the mission, he sighs and rubs at his face. Just the details alone sound painful. He’s going to have to track the other down soon, to discuss it. Youngmin runs his finger over the map, tapping the island they’re headed to. It’s slightly secluded, out of the way, with what might be a military facility stationed there. Hence the mission.

Infiltrating the facility doesn’t sound particularly difficult, but it’s definitely not that easy either. He’s well aware he can’t afford to mess up this mission, not after that mix up with the blond boy.

Youngmin turns his phone on, more a habit than anything, automatically opening up the messaging app. Kwangmin’s icon is dead and apparently not online, but he scrolls down a little to find the little green symbol beside a very much familiar username, and grins, clicking on the other’s name.

janus95: hey

janus95: god help me i got paired up with someone at work and i do not know him

janus95: he’s also disappeared i can’t find him ugh

Turning the corner, Youngmin stows his phone away into the front pocket of his jeans. He has to look for Ilhoon. The common room turns up empty, unfortunately. A quick peek at his phone tells him the other person hasn’t replied either, but he doesn’t really expect that quick a reply. Oh well. He steps out of the common room, and very nearly knocks into someone else.

"Oh, shit, sorry, you okay?” Youngmin disentangles himself, before realising that he’s managed to literally run into Ilhoon. “Finally! So, uh, where do you want to start?” He gives the other an awkward smile. What a great way to start the mission.

Yoongi was fun. He was the kind of guy that was lazy about everything except when someone pressed the right buttons and oh, how Ilhoon knew those buttons. If the nickname got him so fired up, he would better keep those other things for later - when the ace started getting bored or just too tired to keep up. They'd never really sparred together, but Ilhoon saw him in the gym before - he was proud to say he can still do better lift ups than his scrawny friend.

"I thought you were used to it by now." He spat back, defiant as always, obviously. He was just not too sure if he was talking about the nickname or just him being a regular asshole to him. Probably both. "But I was being nice, hyung-gi. And affectionate too. Can't you feel it? All my affection pouring out... allllll of it. No?" He shook his head then, cutely for good measure, and then tilted it, only to give the ace his coy smile. Sarcasm should have been his middle name.

"Uh... let's see.. no killing each other, we're too young to die and I'm way too perfect for that just yet. No weapons too. Just our bodies and our powers?" He continued, raising a second finger to count as he thought about it "Last man standing wins? Oh and try to teach me something, hyung, you're an ace after all."

∇ Alchemy

mornings are something yoongi hates just as much as a hot summer day. sometimes, yoongi would just lay in bed for hours on end when he had nothing better to do; but today he had a mission later on in the evening. so, unfortunately, even though it was so far away, he had to get up. groaning, yoongi decided that he’d go to the training areas of the brotherhood and maybe work out for a half an hour (at max, he didn’t want to pass out due to fatigue later) and get something small to eat before the mission. he dressed in comfortable clothes, gray sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. this is one of the rare times many could see the tattoo starting at the back of his neck (as well as how thin he is).

when he entered into the room, he saw a familiar face that made him smirk just a little bit. how cute, wasn’t that ilhoon? he was someone that yoongi saw sometimes, but what interested yoongi was his gift. ilhoon had this very, very weird power that he didn’t know how to describe. either way, yoongi just decided to steer clear- he really wasn’t in the mood to spar.

that is, until he heard that stupid nickname being called and immediately he turned around; slowly for dramatic effect.

asshole.

"the fuck did you just call me?" yoongi growled lowly before making his way closer to the other. "if you wanted to fuckin’ fight you could have just asked. was that name really necessary?" he could feel himself getting worked up over some stupid name- which was unlike yoongi entirely. ugh. ilhoon, you asshole.

"fine." he shrugged, though he thought for a moment or two before asking, "rules?"

141222, SBS Awards Festival ©mon cher angel, do not edit!

Ilhoon was feeling pretty great at that moment; as if he’d just done something amazing and was watching someone admiring him (which was exactly what was happening) and he loved all the attention so there was no way he was going to complain. The incredulous face he was staring at was amusing even after his second ‘trick’ with the help of helper Taekwoon. “You did it. It’s magic, Taek.” He spat, smiling back at the other.

“Of course I’m special. I’m the best magician you’ll ever find.” The reply was ambiguous, of course, not really that compromising if the older male was not talking about what he thought he was. Then again, why would he even think or talk about it? Sure, there were a lot of youg people aware of mutants and their abilities, but Taekwoon didn’t strike him as the type to go around pointing fingers.

“...” He blinked at Taekwoon for a few seconds, trying to understand what he meant by what he said. As far as he knew, Ilhoon was the only ‘magician’ around. “How--” And then he looked down at the dancing shadow, fairly impressed with what he was watching - even if he was not too sure about what that was. He’d seen quite a few odd things in that world and mutant powers are really not a novelty for him - well, duh - but the fact that he was still naive enough to think that meeting one was not easy, still lingered.

“That kind…” What kind, he wanted to ask, but how could he withoug giving himself away? In a way, he had already when he gave the older a glimpse of what he could do, but still, admitting was scary. “You mean, the kind that doesn’t need a curtain to divert the crowd’s attention?” And by that he means the kind that doesn’t need tricks to DO his tricks.

“Are you one of them -- uh, us -- uh… you know… the special kind?”

Down by the Bay // Ilhoon & Taekwoon (past)