clemencetaught

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moving him back over to my multimuse! threads, asks (which is mostly coming from lenlen ngl fjskldfjslkdj ) and dynamics will be transferred! also gonna do a bit revision on his lore and verses....main one will be verse two since alfie and nell are there too <3

...should i move him to my multi-muse?

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...should i move him to my multi-muse?

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ferre makes aesthetics ( 7 /??? ): verse three ( patrick myungdae grace & lee hyuk )

"you wouldn't suffer as much, if he weren't there." patrick shakes his head. "if he wasn't there, i wouldn't have a reason to be strong to begin with."

( photos & the hunger games lore do not belong to me. credit for the portrayal of lee hyuk goes to alex @jeoseungsaja! happy holidays my dear friend <3 )

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ferre makes aesthetics ( 6/??? ): verse three ( maría castro & patrick myungdae grace )

"take a deep breath with me," he says, voice soft as if it came from a better world. "everything is going to be okay." she knew it wouldn't be, but she wanted to believe him anyways.

( photos & the hunger games lore do not belong to me. credit for mária goes to @ptternminds! happy holidays fellow colleague :3 )

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ferre makes aesthetics ( 5/??? ): verse two ( lee hyuk & shin myungdae )

"myungdae, no offense, but shut up." alfred cuts in, without looking up from the latte he's making. "that guy looks at you like you're the fucking sun. he doesn't hate you."

( photos do not belong to me. credit for the portrayal of lee hyuk goes to alex @jeoseungsaja! happy holidays my dear friend <3 )

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mister hänni. → FOR ONCE THE CHAOS IS...REFRESHING. Or perhaps that’s just the result of the one giving the temper tantrum happening to trip of say, a cane that is barely sticking out. Of course an ostentatious person like that wouldn’t notice, let alone realize who had actually tripped him. Myungdae gives a (not-so) innocent tilt of his head towards his generous benefactor of the night: “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

open starter yannick hänni, former ice hockey player turned tabloid reporter, has major emotional regulation & relationship management issues, but hey ♥

"I never asked you to come, this literally cannot, directly nor indirectly, be my fault."

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myungdae/patrick 🤝 mana: muses whose type are exclusively 'women and [insert canonical male love interest]'

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A SHOP FOR KILLERS + hugs

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@ptternminds / continued from here!

THEIR BAG HAS KEROPPI PRINTED FRONT AND CENTER. And maybe the social worker knows it well themselves, but the mascot…well it doesn't suit them, does it? Still, they carry it and Myungdae can only assume it's either for a. sentimental reasons or b. the safety it invokes. Children are drawn to bright colors and even more so mascots- perhaps it is a means of getting children like Yuri to open up to them, the CPS worker.

Not that Myungdae is inquiring. Keroppi isn't even Yuri's favorite. It's actually Cinnamoroll. Or was it Pompompurin? She has plushies of both. It occurs to him that perhaps he would know which one she favored more if she didn't sleep on the couch with him most nights…or if she even liked either of them to begin with. It hadn't even been his idea to get her the plushies- Nell and Alfred got her each as welcome present of sorts.

Myungdae highly doubts the social worker- Baek- would care much, would they? Baek, who sits across from him unannounced, with a poker face almost akin to his own, the only different being that their calm doesn't try to hide their…disdain. They don't seem all that impressed with him, really. Probably wondering how the hell he, of all people ended u,p with not only Yuri, but also Hiro.

It wouldn't make matters much better if he admitted he's not sure how things ended up this way either, would it? All he knew at the time was that Yuri and Hiro both needed someone, an adult at the time and of course, he happened to be there.

What was he supposed to do? Turn them away?

"Oh," He says, rather simply too. He knows he needs to put on a good impression for Baek. The impression of a competent, attentive parent: one who knows what they're doing, one who knows their child. And yet-

"Um…daycare? She doesn't like being away from us if she doesn't have to be."

He feels as far away from himself, even further than he does to Yuri. Maybe that's why he was so insistent on taking her in. It takes a stray to know a stray.

But Baek doesn't need to know that. Sure, they mean well, prioritizing Yuri's well-being above the niceities and reserving judgement for what probably looks like a disaster zone if families were supposed to be houses. But it doesn't change that they're not- well, trust is hard-earned in these parts, aren't they? Their ID badge doesn't earn them points either, especially not with Alfred.

Still Myungdae can't help but wilt a little bit more under their gaze. Or what feels like a scolding, even if he'll be damned before reaching out for additional services for assistance. That's just more surveillance to put up with. "I'm fine, really. She…we don't need therapy, these additional resources if that's what you're trying to say– what she needs right now is stability." Which he wants to believe she's getting. "I thought…I thought that's what you were looking for her to have."

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i did it!! it's not all complete, but i finished up the major portions of the revamps i needed to write for patrick (verse one) and myungdae (verse two). Please take a look at his carrd and reread the information if you have the time ( and check out my smexy lore page too <3 )!!

But also if you want a basic summary of things I changed/added here's a list:

VERSE ONE:

rewrote Patrick (verse one)'s history portion to reflect his trans identity.

renamed his biological older brother, previously myungsuk, to myungdae....patrick took his brother's korean name when he legally transitioned :3

took down the full story tab for the time being because i need to figure out how to simplify the events there a bit more....

VERSE TWO:

simplified, simplified, simplified a lot of things here :'D

took out myungdae's connection to ARGOS. instead, he was forced into labor by ANACHRON and later escaped with alfred's help (more on that later). that's where myungdae got the burn scars and the bad knee.

alfred also helped him recuperate in the aftermath. by the time the black knight starts up, myungdae's been in seoul for about 2-3 years.

nell helped him with making a fake id and papers.

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i know i said i needed to rewrites parts of his backstory because of a major change i might and i will. but i also don't feel like making any anticipation for this because honestly? it doesn't change too much about him...

basically, patrick is trans (ftm). he transitioned in secondary school and while out about his queerness, his gender is something he keeps more to himself.

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i haven't forgotten about this blog! there is one major change i made for him though so i need to rewrite parts of his backstory before i'm ready to write him again <3 i also want to get more into writing drabbles for him as i have a lot of lore on his relationships and world i need to share :'D

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thinking about the fact that in all his verses, the most important parts of his identity have never been inherent. they were all things that he learned or picked up along the way from someone else and then made it his own.

like in verse one, the fact that he speaks very formally and is highly knowledgeable in greek myth and transracial literature? trained himself in both as the only asian teenager in the british countryside. in verse two, him being the black knight? picked up fighting and lying skills to survive– it was either sink or swim. verse three, his reputation as a gentleman in the capitol? crafted that reputation over the years to protect himself and then the other victors.

but the things he considers most important to his identity comes from his loved ones, which also fits in well with the idea that ultimately, humans are composites of all the people they've loved. in verse one, patrick's insistence that he is a gentleman? came from felicity's calling him such. verse two where he has an inclination towards coffee and pigeons specifically? well hyuk ( @jeoseungsaja ) also loves coffee and reminds myungdae of a pigeon. verse three where he begins to have hope that perhaps there is a better world to be, maybe not found, but rather created? maría ( @mythvoiced ) definitely played a part there.

because even if he did come from a birth family with a good standing, patrick has an orphan for longer than he has been their child. and if you are an orphan, you don't truly have anything but yourself.

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:'DDDD

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really love dynamics that are like 'it honestly doesn't matter if you view them as romantic or platonic, the point is that they love each other. the type of love is inconsequential, all that matters is that it's there'. gotta be one of my favorite genders.

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"Thank you so much for introducing me into your busy schedule," Hermes says and he's oh so very polite, epitome of status and class, of the Capitol, complete with something less polite glistening in his eyes, making his stare resemble the kind worn by someone curiously waiting to see whether the distracted mouse will see the lurking cat in time. He comes up around Patrick, offering his hands. "Let me take your coat, hm? Care for a drink?" ((btw if Patrick is more of a jacket kinda peep here pretend it says jacket >:3333333)) || a year late but here we are ( unprompted w/ @mythvoiced )

One would think at his age, the stream of clients on his end would be slowing down by now. The copious amounts of surgeries and skin care routines Capitolites undergo would indict so– he’s already past his prime and with the pool of victors always growing larger and larger each year, he would assume the Capitol’s attention on him would fade. The Capitolites are like crows in that respect, eyes drawn to what is shiny and what is new, their attention spans that of goldfishes.

One would think then, that he’d be discarded by now, being OLD now and therefore in the Capitol’s eyes, as good as dead.

“But of course,” Patrick says astutely, flinching when he realizes the client has managed to sneak behind him. Well that’s new– most clients wait for him in their bedrooms. Most clients would have their avoxes let him in, the task of welcoming a guest apparently too arduous for those of their class. And most clients wouldn’t offer to take coats either. Perhaps this one was raised with a military background of sorts.  “Your father has a great deal of connections to the games and President Snow certainly didn’t want to disappoint his son. You know our president holds the games to the highest esteem.”

The coat stays on for a moment longer. He tries to savor it, his armor, as he looks around the foyer. It’s ornate, just like all the ones that came before. And all the ones that will come afterwards– at some point when you’ve seen one interior of a mansion, you’ve seen it all. The heirs of the elite aren’t much better and with the way his newest client looks at him, like he’s supposed to provide some sort of entertainment at the moment, Patrick can only bite back a sigh. Only three hours, Patrick tells himself. Slowly, he forces a smile. Three hours and then he can get on a train and go back home. Back to Sun. 

“It would be my pleasure,” Patrick says, finally offering Mister Hermes his coat. His stomach turns. “I suppose we all need a drink before the main event, hm? And a chance for me to get to know you, my dear.”

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where the martyr becomes the survivor ( @mythvoiced from here ) || trigger warning: allusions to s*a, but no depictions of the act itself.

Nights like these are chilling. 

Chilly sometimes, depending on the time of year, but always chilling, sharp enough to cut to the bone. He prefers it this way, the cool night air of the Capitol brushing against bare skin, a body that never feels quite like his own on nights where the clients have him marked in their calendars. A body that he would want nothing more than to crawl out of and trade in for a new one. The sensation, the urge used to be stronger in his younger days and even if the body now has become accustomed to it, the ‘escorting’ as President has so deftly phrased it, the sensation leaves him lightheaded. The lights of the street lamps make the edge of his vision blur as he tries not to think of the sweat drying on the back of his neck, foreign fingers that pressed themselves there without thinking. Why would they need to ask anyways– he’s theirs for the night and you don’t need to ask objects for permission. It is better than staying there in the aftermath though.

He’ll take the chilling air over the humidity. The lingering smell of sweat mixed in with sex. Or the lazy breaths of a body next to his as it embraces his own like he is their lover. The night air cuts through that. Chillingly. 

Mister Hrvoditnir’s place is the last stop for the night. An unexpected one too– Patrick didn’t realize until the card listed his name at the very bottom that Mister Hrodvitnir had made a purchase for him. Did something happen? Did he decide he wanted out of this arrangement after all? Most of their communications aren't done face to face so it must be urgent, if Mister Hrodvitnir is calling out to him. And if it is in the case of getting cold feet, Patrick wouldn’t blame him; they’re both playing with fire, rigging and manipulating the whims of the elite.

But then he gets to Mister Hrodvitnir’s place ( he insisted on walking rather than getting chauffeured; Mister Hrodvitnir barely maintains the driveway of his place anyways ) and no second thoughts surface. Instead there is only a simple hello and an offer to come in. Have a cup of tea. Patrick both snags in relief and bristles at the offer. 

All that money and maneuvering spent, for this?

And that’s exactly what Patrick tells him. Kindly, of course: “You don’t need to do that, not for me.”

And like a wolf baring its teeth, like a wolf closing in on its prey,  his smile drops and suddenly he’s stepping into Patrick’s space. At least he’s polite enough to give a warning beforehand. 

But Patrick freezes, nails digging into his palms. Is this how Sun feels when he brings strangers into the house? The outrage, the fear that accompanies the way a stranger will thread on her territory and there’s nothing she can do to change it so her next best option is bolting to the nearest safe space?

But Patrick is not a cat and he can’t very well just shirk this visit. And unfortunately for both of them, Mister Hrodvitnir is correct. A martyr might incite a revolution, but in a nation where the calls for upheavals and revolts are far cries, the goal in the long run is not change, but survival. And who better would know the ropes there than the survivor himself?

Patrick knows it. Mister Hrodvitnir, no, Van knows that he knows it well. 

The nickname ‘Chessmaster’ isn’t entirely accurate for Patrick anymore, is it? A chessmaster may direct the pieces on the board, but they are never with the pieces. A chessmaster must sit separately if there is a chance at victory. 

That’s not the case for Patrick. If anything, ‘Chessmaster’ might actually suit Van better than anyone else. Who else could wade between both the elite and the plebian circles without raising brows? Who else must don the guise of a nonchalant bidder in order bring some kind of relief for the victors?

And like a chess piece taking orders from its Grand Master, Patrick half sighs, half huffs in acquiescence. It doesn’t stop him from glaring at Van, of course, but his shoulders fall as the exhaustion finally settles in. The night air is no longer comforting but just plain chilly, even if Patrick has his coat on. 

( How odd, unapologetic concern stemming from within the Capitol of all places. He supposes Van’s neighbors don’t get that from Van often, do they? )

“I suppose I can come in for a cup of tea.” Yes, tea always helps in these scenarios, don’t they? He steps into Van’s foyer and the skin on the back of his neck embracing the warmth inside. “Could I… use your shower? It wouldn’t be for too long. I just–” He looks down at his clothes: the suit that he wore this afternoon, yes, but the tie has been stuffed in his pocket. And the shirt underneath is crinkled. “I need to clean myself up.”