mmohana-blog1

[mmohana-blog1]

mmhyojin‌:

he’s practically zoned out as hana tightens an arm around his waist and starts dragging him along, hyojin being anything but helpful as his feet stumble beside the smaller girl. hana’s complaints ring in his ear, and he feels bad, he does, but the older can only nod along without really comprehending. he’s sure he’ll figure it out come tomorrow morning.

“ mission? are we on a mission? like running man? ” hyojin slurs back, eyes wide in excitement. nobody told him about any mission, but that’s okay, he’s sure he can catch up in the race.

“ nobody gave me a name tag though? or did you stick it on me just now? ” without warning, hyojin pries himself away from hana’s grasp, struggling to get an arm twisted around to touch his back where a name tag would be. he puts up a fight for all of 2 minutes, before squatting down on the sidewalk huffing and puffing. maybe it really was time to start hitting the gym.

one second of drunk pondering. two.

“ am i OUT?! ” hyojin screams next, the words echoing down the vacant street. “ hana, who got me o – ”

a wretched choking noise claws its way up his throat, and in the next second, hyojin’s upchucking the dozen or so drinks he’d happily downed at the club.

right onto hana’s shoes too. fuck.

hana has never been able to handle herself around foul smells. once, a mere whiff of expired milk had put her off dairy for a solid week. perpetually existing within a cloud of fruity perfumes and scented lip glosses makes it hard to accept that such rancid odors exist in the world. 

the smell of hyojin’s tossed cookies — on her cute little pastel tennis shoes, no less — have her ready to retire her sense of smell entirely. she should’ve seen it coming, really. rambling incoherently about running man into the depth of the night... a clear and flashing warning sign of impending upheaval. 

“how much did you drink?!” she stares down at her poor ruined footwear, though she offers a ginger and comforting pat on his back in the same beat. can’t blame the drunkard for his pure sins. he’s definitely not going to be able to make it home in this state of disarray. 

she huffs out a light sigh, glancing around the vicinity for any sign of an especially cheap motel. (her wallet sits in her pocket, lightly weeping.) a sign blinks rhythmically a few yards away — Q motel, lit up in neon red, looking both immensely sketchy and extremely low cost. she’s willing to hedge her bets. 

“are you okay to... walk?” she eyes him carefully, brows furrowing. “i mean... i can carry you? maybe?” probably not, with arms like limp noodles. “...we can just try?” a beat. “unless you’re gonna puke again, in which case, lets just hang out here for a bit. in the, uh,” she blinks, “freezing cold.”

[mmohana-blog1]

mmchanwoo‌:

Chan jumps at the sound of Hana’s expletive, the boy far too focused on the claw dangling behind the glass, its metal fingers empty, once again. Is it just him, or does the metal claw look like its mocking the pair and their plushie-less hands? The corners of his mouth curls into a faint frown at the thought.

(It’s a ridiculous thought, the idea of a sentient claw machine poking fun of these two young adults who can’t get a single overstuffed animal, he knows this…. For the most part. There’s still the smallest inkling inside of him that firmly believes this.)

Chan opens his mouth to respond, but his attention drifts to the small child walking past them… but mainly on the absolutely adorable neon green frog poking out of the bag at the top. The same frog he had wasted more money than he cares to admit trying to win it just a few days ago. He looks in anguish as the kid trots off with his winnings, the hand of the frog sticking out, as if it’s saying a final goodbye to Chan.

He could cry at the loss if it isn’t for Hana looking at him.

”He must have cheated or something, there’s no way he could have gotten that many in the ,” he whispers back, refusing to believe that some little child who probably spends every day at the Local Arcade could get more plushies than the two of them.

Chan pats Hana’s shoulder and offers her a sympathetic smile, although she’s focused in on the fat duck she’s determined to free. “I don’t think you’re missing anything,” he adds, his gaze traveling to the plushie of her dreams. “Maybe this machine is faulty, or hates us, or something.” He gives the glass a light smack, letting out a wistful sigh. “But, I have a pretty good feeling about you giving it another try.” With a dramatic flourish, he whips out a few tokens from his linty hoodie pocket and presents them to Hana on an outstretched palm. “Such a good feeling that this round is on me.”

“right?” she whispers back, low and intense, eyes darting away from her tragically imprisoned fuzzy duck friend and back onto chan. in spite of her harsh tone, there’s an obvious smile ghosting on her lips, threatening to blow the entire angry act into the wind — the fact that chan is such a willing participant in her dumbassery still sends her heart fluttering away, after all. (the gentle pat of a hand on her shoulder really isn’t helping matters, either.) “how does a little kid even afford the tokens for all of those...”

and, almost as if on cue once again, chan reaches into a long unwashed hoodie pocket and gifts her with three glistening game tokens, offering words of encouragement in the face of her extreme lack of luck. her intense Gamer act flies directly out the window, and lands somewhere in the realm of fairly emotional and thoroughly giddy. it settles heavy in her heart, a reminder of a slew of feelings she’s tried in vain to suppress. 

“no, no, no, i can’t take those,” she protests, waving her hands defiantly in front of his outstretched hand, “you should try it now, yeah? maybe you’ll have all the good luck, since you haven’t tried yet tonight. that’s how you got that snorlax before, remember?” that was after a solid thirty minutes of wasting far too much money for a cheaply made plush, but they still got it. “...at least try once.”

[mmohana-blog1]

mmsiyang‌:

@mmohana

kakaotalk conversation

student oh

> hey, u live @ sweetheart sharehouse right? < yeah? why > my sister lives there too > she’s a hongdae student, does fine arts, could u help me watch out for her? < buy me lunch for a month > yeah yeah sure lmao > her name’s hana, thanks

siyang snorts as he locks his cellphone and shoves it into the pocket of his trousers, hefting his backpack and heading towards the sharehouse from the train station. oh whatever-her-name was barely ever talked to him, they’d maybe had one or two lectures in common before and he only had her number because of those overachievers in class who loved to make group chats even for lecture classes. which, well, sometimes he benefited when some of the more naive students shared their notes but whatever. it was their business. 

at least the semester was going to end and his first year would finally be over. travelling over two hours every day back and forth between hongdae and his school was a torture. if he hadn’t put down such a hefty deposit into the contract, he would’ve given up on the sharehouse and moved somewhere closer to his own school. as it was, he hadn’t really had much practical advice after being kicked out of his home and sweetheart had been his best choice at the time when shit had gone down. he supposes it’s affection he feels when he reaches the sharehouse and heads up the steps towards his room, the one he shares with the chef guy. he dumps his bag on the ground and pulls off his scarf.

scrolling through the kakao chat, he could ignore the request and not get any of the free food. it wasn’t that big of a deal, he wasn’t close to oh what’s-her-face and it wasn’t like anyone would judge him for ‘conveniently forgetting’ about talking to her sister. it’s curiosity and a little voice that sounds like his mother yelling at him that “it’s a waste of time, siyang! pay attention to your studies!” that makes him stretch and shuffle out of his own room into the rest of the sharehouse in his bedroom slippers. he heads to the rooftop where he’s seen some of the other apartment people hanging out there when he goes there for the occasional forbidden smoke break.

he finds a cat and more importantly another tenant.

“hey, do you know of anyone living here called oh hana?” he asks, squatting down to rub the welcoming kitty’s belly. 

life in the freedom of the sharehouse has cultivated some of hana’s worse habits. many overall mostly harmless — eating way too much candy, playing games when she’s meant to be sleeping, things she would never have done when under her parents’ roof. but the pack of cigarettes that remains tucked snugly in her sock drawer indicates a longer lasting and more nasty habit. 

it’s not like she does it often, really. times of immense stress call for relievers, right? (it all really started with her fellow fine arts students, and how cool they looked painting with cigarettes perched between their lips.)

it’s how she finds herself here, huddled up in a puffy coat on the roof, taking a much needed relief break from the growing mound of work on her desk. her favorite sharehouse cat — mandu — is twirling languidly around at her feet, accepting idle scratches and gentle cooing. she doesn’t notice she has company until mandu suddenly vanishes from underfoot.

and then said company is asking for her. 

she turns around slow, like a criminal caught in the act, with smoke still twisting above her head. her smoking habit has become something of a dirty little secret only a select few in the house are privy to. (something about the ever-present fear of a do-gooder child.) and upon seeing who is requesting her, he is definitely not a person she deems privy. 

a terrible effort is made to conceal the cigarette behind her back as her brows furrow, head tilting into a suspicious quirk. “who’s asking?” a beat. “i mean, obviously you’re asking, but... why are you asking? why do you need her? did she do something? is she in trouble?” 

tonkatsu royalty

[mmohana-blog1]

mmhyojin‌:

hyojin’s in his element, to say the least. there’s bodies on all sides of him–grinding, trying to make their way through the fray (much like himself) and the ones too fucking drunk to even register that they’re standing in the way. he can feel the alcohol coursing through him, brain muddled and steps clumsy. but he likes it. he always has.

being numb’s better than feeling too much, right?

he doesn’t remember when he contacted hana, but his phone lights up and he can just make out the hurry up on screen. the rest of the words are blurry as shit, and hyojin’s head is way too fucked for him to type up a response right now. so he doesn’t. he’ll see her outside anyway.

he’s still doing his best to get through the rest of the crowd as he tucks his phone away. it’s a struggle, really, trying to find the exit without stepping on too many toes or spilling anyone’s drink. at one point he feels a splash over his shoes and a curse from behind, but hyojin shrugs it off.

the brisk air is sobering once he’s finally stumbling out of the club and into the night. he spots hana immediately–dressed for the chilly weather in her usual colorful ensemble, and a goofy grin tugs at his lips in response. she’s cute. “ thanks for picking me up, angel. ” hyojin’s quick to tease, arm easily wrapping around hana’s shoulders as he staggers into her. “ are you cold? need me to warm you up? ”

the second she catches sight of his drunk ass practically falling into the alleyway, she quickly tucks her phone into a puffy blue coat pocket, and mentally calculates the quickest route back to optimize the few minuscule shreds of sleep she’ll be getting. 

the way he tumbles haphazardly through club door tells her more than enough about the state he’s in. she’s seen this act enough times now to know the nuances —  this time she is met with a sunshine-y smile and the touchiness she has grown well-accustomed to, which is a good omen. he’s talkative and teasing, meaning they are hopefully not nearing puke territory, and getting him to bed should prove to be easy breezy. 

but first — gotta play the guilt card, right? it’s only natural. 

“i am cold,” she says through a very upset pout, though her arm reaching to loop supportively around his waist tells a different story, “'cause you made me wait out here forever.” it’s all in jest, really, but her nose is genuinely so cold it’s gone bright pink and numb. “you owe me some hot chocolate, or, like, a million won, but right now...” she abruptly begins to walk at a brisk pace, tugging him along with her, desperately trying to ignore the ever-temptous scent of the nearby food stalls.

“i am getting us home! our first and only mission! let’s go!” 

[mmohana-blog1]

GOTCHA / @mmchanwoo

“shit!”

oh, if only her parents could see her now. hunched unnaturally over the joystick of an overpriced claw machine, brows furrowed with the intensity of an olympian shooting for the gold, the occasional expletive exploding out from between cherry red lips when another unfortunate plush falls to its demise. 

(truthfully, this is exactly what they expected her life would become the second she moved into the sharehouse. they were adamant that the place was swimming with degenerates, and her ever expanding vocabulary of curses was not working much toward proving them wrong.)

she sucks in a deep breath and fiddles wildly with the joystick, as if tugging on it will miraculously force it to begin cooperating. “you know, i was certain i had finally gotten the tricks down. i read through a dozen different websites, and still nothing!”

almost on cue, a child strolls past them, toting a gigantic bag filled to the brim with colorful plushes, and boasting the smarmy grin of a prideful king hoarding precious provisions. 

she turns dramatically towards chan, eyes wide with sheer devastation. “how in the world,” her voice is leveled to an intense whisper, “did he get that many? there has to be something i’m missing, right?” she places a lone hand on the glass, gazing wistfully into the beady plastic eyes of a fat duck plushie. “...i’m gonna get you out of there, friend. i promise.”

[mmohana-blog1]

mminsu‌:

@mmohana​

“No.“

The way he spits it out shows he’s had too much to drink. Insu’s got tells–how the N stuck to the roof of his mouth (couldn’t quite get it loose) and when it unhooked and hummed free the O just flowed too free, too easy, until he pinched his mouth (displeased, another tell).

“Hey.” Then firmer– “Stop.” He snatches the plastic cup from Hana’s side of the table and tucks it close, brow in knots and mouth parted, the corners twisted–almost like he’s picking a fight. Maybe (probably) but she’d picked this fight first. She knows him. Is well aware of what he doesn’t like and here she is–hair askew like a kitten who’d licked it’s fur the wrong way, dressed in green (not her color), and obviously too deep in a bottle of soju that saturates red in her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, the middle of her forehead.

“Pretty sure you’ve had enough.” And he pours the rest of the soju into his own cup, keeps going, until it drips ripples in the clear glass. “Isn’t it past your bedtime anyway?”

hana has her fair share of tells, too — apple-red and shiny cheeks, laughter that bubbles out long after the joke has passed, sentences blurring together as they trail too quickly from her mouth. she’s nonstop yammering about schoolwork and her job and how she thinks insuk’s miserly cat is finally warming up to her after almost two years, only pausing to pour another drink. her cup is snatched before she even has the chance to dish out the shot of chamisul. 

what comes out of her mouth, after a beat to process what’s happening, is a gasp of offense. he’s clearly much further gone than she is, obvious by how prepared he is to start this debate. (she loves this green sweater, okay?) 

“that’s rude,” she pointedly glares up at the steadily ticking clock on the wall, “... and it’s only eleven! i work way later than this on the regular, you know.”

her own brows knot as she sits silent for a moment. she then flings her arm across the table, fingers pinching in grabby motions at his cup. “i’m pretty sure you’ve had enough.” solid comeback. “and i’m pretty sure it’s past your bedtime.” another solid one. “and that’s why you’re being so intense. you aren’t getting enough sleep. is it too cold in your room? i have plenty of blankets. i’ll give you my insulated one if you just,” she stretches her arm as far as it will reach, “gimme the cup.”

[mmohana-blog1]

befriending me is just basically getting a front-row ticket to my easily-excited ass yelling about everything, always. even if i’m not literally yelling i’m still, in spirit, yelling. that’s the ticket you bought. you didn’t ask for it but you got a backstage pass too, free of charge. welcome to hell

[mmohana-blog1]

2:23 / @mmhyojin

watching her breath puff into the freezing air, illuminated only with the neon blue of the club’s open sign flashing rhythmically onto the near emptied street, hana wonders what cosmic forces dragged her out here. tugged away from the warmth of soft blankets and the rare chance at a good night’s sleep, and thrown into a below freezing alleyway that smells like cheap beer and piss. such is life. 

(wondering isn’t really necessary. she’d drag herself through the flames of hell to help hyojin’s drunk ass, if requested. she’s still allowed to be upset about it, though.) 

she whips out her phone — mainly to avoid eye contact with the leering men perched near the club’s doorway, but also because her bones are quickly being turned into ice blocks, and hyojin is taking far too long to drag his ass out onto the street so she can be his dashing escort home.

( sms — hyojin★ ) it’s cold out here ㅠㅠ hurry up!

( sms — hyojin★ ) my bed is calling out to me....

( sms — hyojin★ ) also these drunk men are staring me down. if i die its on you!!! can you live with that!!??!!

[mmohana-blog1]

heyo! i am holly, admin and dumbass, and this is hana, wannabe illustrator and also a dumbass! below the cut are some tldr (that’s a lie cause its long as hell but u kno... it be like that) deets about her, but you can find her full bio here and her basic profile right here. drop a like on this or just hmu if we haven’t plotted yet and/or if you wanna whip up a thread!! (^: 

overall: sweet to a fault, often overbearing, generally pretty odd, simultaneously the mom and the hyperactive child, trying to explore new life experiences, and forever fascinated by the complexities of people! 

she was born in busan, but moved to seoul when she was 8. she was An Accident, born after her parents fully thought they weren’t able to have more kids. she has one sister, who is a #confirmed genius child, and she’s been trapped in her shadow her entire life, constantly trying to live up to the expectations she set.

once her sister graduated she tried to grab her parents attention by devoting herself fully to her studies cause she was like.. desperate for their love and affection, but that shit didnt work! 

depression crept into her life when she was fifteen. the buildup of both parental and outside pressures was the catalyst, but she also carries around immense self doubt AND offers excessive love/affection/emotion to others as a way to avoid dealing with her own problems, which just weighed her down until her brain gave up. she started going to therapy about a year after moving into the sharehouse, and has been learning better coping mechanisms! (self care 2k19) 

she’s hella friendly and usually has very little issue forming new relationships. she has always tried to be nice to anyone and everyone, and it extremely empathetic to the feelings of others. that has opened her up to ppl taking advantage of her + her not making the most... sound/rational choices in company... so she is trying to stop freely giving so much of her own happiness and heart to others. (she still collects fleeting infatuations like they’re playing cards tho rip)

discovered a love + natural talent for art as a child that kept growing as her skill sets developed. started making goofy lil comics as a kiddo and has never stopped!! she makes comic strips for the sacred hearts zine about goofy shit she sees around the sharehouse... basically everyone has been featured at least once in cutesy cartoony form. her main goal is to one day author her own manhwa, but she has about a million WIP ideas that have been building up in her sketchbook for years (the most recent being about a delinquent weirdo girl with fortune-telling dreams.) her main inspirations are the people she meets day-to-day, which has grown into a pretty intense people-watching habit LOL

she works at happyro, and usually gets stuck with the super late night shifts. mostly just spends her time doing art projects for school or playing animal crossing. even tho she is tired af its the perfect gig bc she loves the free time + she genuinely loves video games.

dresses like a weird mismatched mess! lives for a problem pattern! wears so much color that u can spot her from a thousand miles away! (for a general idea of her aesthetic u can check out her pinterest board) 

makes so many baked goods bro she sucks at cooking meals but she can make sweets like a CHAMP. her apartment always smells like cookies and she always has some goodies to give people when they stop by her room 

eats so much fuckin candy that she should probably be dead by now. can go thru whole bags of gummies in a single day... she lives for that shit. her diet is terrible (but trust that she will chide ppl for not eating well)

has dozens of cheap claw machine plushies. not just bc she loves plushies, but bc she is DETERMINED to learn the secrets of the claw machines. 

random plot ideas!

obviously her subplots, which are sacred hearts (the sharehouse zine) and muse (nude modeling), and both clearly grounds 4 some fun stuff LOL 

happyro regulars! other gamers! folks who just come in to spend time with her while she’s working the late shift! 

fellow hongik students! (there r so many hongik kids.. squad)

close good friends! 

one of her many crushes during her year and a half in the sharehouse... maybe an ex.... who knows! she’s been around for a bit! 

aforementioned person that was taking advantage of her/proving to be poor company, whether that be someone who was just blatantly toxic, or just.. someone who did not mesh well with her in the end. 

also someone who is just hella annoyed by her please 

she’s all about new experiences, but for a young cute girl... shit can be dangerous alone. someone to come with her as she checks out local dive spots at night.

you were not very happy with the way she interpreted you in a comic/she documented a moment you didn’t expect anyone to see and now you’re mad embarrassed.

you both go to the same therapist and just now realized it

there has been a steady beat of 24/7 chill hip hop coming from her room for a good four hours now and you are about to lose your marbles 

she is on commission for drawings at all times! caricatures? she’s got u. a piece for ur obligatory gen-ed art class? she’s got u. framed drawing of one of insuk’s cats? she’s got u. 

one of her rainbow ass shirts got mixed in with a load of your whites somehow and turned them all diff colors and you obviously KNOW the culprit bc who else would wear this kind of pattern 

there are stickers all over your shit and u have no idea where they came from 

[mmohana-blog1]

우효 (OOHYO) - PIZZA

[mmohana-blog1]

do not edit. | choose me