Analytic

Jung Sera Freelance Detective ♕ ♔ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙

[felicefawn]

Girls who run with the wolves aren’t here for boys to love.

Unknown (via mazzello)

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

Never push a loyal person to the point where they no longer care.

Unknown (via silverdreaming)

[fy-jungnicole]

[fy-jungnicole]

credits: mellitulus please, do not edit.

[psych-facts]

Only trust someone who can see these three things in you: The sorrow behind your smile, the love behind your anger, and the reason behind your silence.

Unknown (via smuzyy)

[pisceswitch]

“Never argue with a fool, onlookers may not be able to tell the difference.”

-Mark Twain (via electric-h3arts)

[thedefinitionofcliche]

[mrcheyl]

Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. I am kind to everyone, but when someone is unkind to me, weak is not what you are going to remember about me.

Al Capone

[anxlytic-blog]

Reversal of Circumstances.

[oxccisor-deactivated20160201]

Taemin swirled the woman in his grasp; his hand now latched to the small of her back, his movements fluid, precise, his step not faltering for one moment as he curled his arm around her and stretched her out, only to let her fall back into his clasp. Purposely, he’d made that last one turn a tad less controlled, a bit more smooth yet swift as he pressed her against him momentarily. He towered over her by quite the length, and this, unreasonably so, pleased him. 

He returned the smile, half of his lips curving upwards, stringing along the side of his face in a subtle sneer. He lowered his gaze to her mouth, then simply stated as he prolonged that instant he’d produced by lingering inches against her features; as he dragged his eyes from her plump, rosey lips, and met hers with deeply buried, sudden appetite he was trying his best to dim back into the shadows (because really, hunger was not nearly close from what had woken his libido)   — back between that space where he deposited his humanity and his desires when they got out of hand, and became an obstruction in his path. — , his fingers intertwined on hers as he slowly, one by one untangled his digits and descended her hand on his shoulder. However, not without angling his head, and ever so gently, brushing his lips against her knuckles.

“Apologies.” He side-eyed her, and eventually canted his head fully back to her benefit, his now freed hand reaching for the other side of her waist. And with utmost delicacy, he gradually disassociated himself from her (or at least, to a more casual and appropriate degree). “I guess no, it wasn’t too far.” He swayed their bodies with the melody, once again, complacent and passive (alas, something that for someone like him was only transitionally attained). “You’re right. But doesn’t hurt trying, not when you’re partner is…” He trailed off, his gaze unwavering, but if the eyes could strip a soul….

someone like you.

“so interesting.” He ended, irises full of mirth. He listened to her assertions, keen and following her every turn of her trail of thought that clearly was being displayed beyond him at the moment, for him to inspect and judge for his advantage. She was a smart woman, and while he had his suspicions this wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg of what she could utter, deduct, and in this same manner he’d understood (rather, from the moment she spoke), she was far from a commoner, far from an innocent civilian who in which case had he found himself dancing with, he would’ve grown bored of (and very possibly, abandoned for a different kind of company).

Thus, he replied, knowing his answer would only create more questions for her, not quite satiate her curiosity, and another mystery she’d likely wont be able to advance on at another time, another instance that both wouldn’t share (which, strangely, bothered him. But it was part of his job, after all). “Would you believe me I only briefly watched the movie? I was not even aware it was a book, but now, you really speak of it in a way I might just do it after this.” He rolled his shoulders. “Maybe in some sort of unconscious manner, I do identify with him. I did like the mask.” He offered, but vaguely. “but that, is something you’d have to ask another day.” and then, he added: “but enough about me, who are you representing, and why?” 

[anxlytic-blog]

She followed his lead smoothly, mildly to her surprise. But once again, she wasn’t a clumsy dancer, the mistakes she often made on the floor were hidden behind excuses that she was too distracted, too uninterested, (and often, though she wouldn’t admit it, too discomforted by the intimate proximity of a stranger, often one she knew was trying to hit a jack pot with her.) But despite the injury paining her leg, she did not falter. Funny how a challenge can spark so much confidence, and he... he wasn’t only a little mystery that she attempted to solve, he held more charms than she would like to admit she noticed. Mais pas mal, she wasn’t much of a speaker about what she thought of others anyway, especially those of the opposite sex, unless of course they were on her suspect list during a moment of sharing of intelligences.

Her lips stretched in a subtle smile, amused by the fluidity of their movements. He was good, she’d give him that, and it felt easy to synchronize her steps to follow his lead with every stretch and spin. She had to tip her head up slightly, angle it to take in whatever was visible of his features; a partial view of his lips, but not much more. Such a nice shape they had, not that she’d admit it, but she reckoned as much. She could feel the pressure of his eyes engulfing her, attempting to pierce through her, but she did not crumble. Instead, she returned it fully. She was not a shy girl; reserved, perhaps sometimes easily flustered when it came to her conservative regard of her femininity, but that did not necessarily translate to shyness. But that brush of his lips against her knuckles surely left them feeling heated, and might’ve sent a light flush to her partially concealed cheeks.

She reckoned his complement with a nasal chuckle and a slight nod of appreciation. She wondered what he saw in her. She had already remarked about his confidence, intelligence, and leadership, (all traits that definitely sparked her desire for the other to keep her company), yet something told her not to let her guard down, not to give in, but rather, keep up the challenge, the game, to the very end, until all masks come off.

“The movie didn’t quite impress me. Had rather the lavish wardrobe though, so I do commend that.” She chuckled, squinting her eyes slightly, though plump lips pursed a smile, “It’s a decent novel. Tragic, as I said, but a good filler of time if you were trapped somewhere. I’d recommend reading it in French, if you could. I do have a thing for reading books in their original language. Translation always seems to... lose some of the work’s panache.” She chuckled, acknowledging his response. “I am representing...” she paused, lips stretching widely as she tilted her head briefly and cocked a brow, “quite frankly, absolutely no one.” She chuckled, “My decision to attend was a tad last minute. And not one that I had much of a choice in, really. So it’s not much of a mystery.”

She turned her head towards the stage where the MC was announcing that dinner was served. “Looks like it’s time to taste-test some flamboyant dishes. Shall we?”

[kpopinstagrampictures-blog]

[fy-jungnicole]

(151224) nicol.e.j: [no caption]

[soulist-aurora]

One. Do not promise when you’re happy. Two. When you are angry, do not respond. Three. Do not decide when you’re sad.

Wisdom (via soulist-aurora)

[kpopinstagrampictures-blog]

[anxlytic-blog]

Reversal of Circumstances.

[oxccisor-deactivated20160201]

Taemin angled his head as she spoke, and it didn’t slip past him the way she looked at him; he hadn’t been looked like that in a long time, and it reminded him of the time when he used to be a trainee for the job he currently occupied. Back then, his backbone was bent, his self-assurance plummeting the more the judgement and slight tilt of disappointment, the disenchantment for his ability had barely met the bar, and he lacked due to his age, was delivered through a single gaze. Living under scrutiny his entire childhood, even when at the beginning he was safe-guarded,  beloved and belonging, home – and the memory brought a sudden edge, a dull, gnawing ache, and his stance tensed for a split of second (and he knew this) before it went lax, as ever cognizant that any, including the person standing in front of him, could pick up on the slightest cue, the minimum transmutation and he could be caught. As his profession made him gather enemies from the most unlikeliest places, he never let his guard down. – and adult life to the present day, had become one of the many things he’d desensitized himself from quickly. His mask had already fallen back, and he watched for his body language, intonation and selection of words. 

Perhaps she thought he’d been brash, see through, but it’d been all part of his scheme. Indeed, he’d revealed his individual inclinations, to account to the persona he’d created and embodied out of thin air (albeit one he’d become used to, as he usually incorporated this alter-ego to his frequent, nightly rendezvous) ; he was groomed for it, and while he’d surely initially planned to be someone else entirely, he didn’t mind at all the exposure. The personification of a being so alike to him, so akin to his desires, his thoughts, and beliefs, truly did feel odd but nonetheless, both appropriate and fitting (and easy to wear). So long it wasn’t his true self.

He barely grasped him, anyways. His skin was like a foreigner to the male.

Thus, he responded, seemingly unfiltered. “I was invited, as everyone was, here.” He offered, his smile unwavering likewise his composure as she inspected him again. “Au contraire, madam.” He chuckled, then bowed lightly, one arm pressed against his back as the other laid on his abdomen. His neck curved, head and eyes directed at her. “My mask should give you a hint. I merely chose to modernize the concept.” He rolled his shoulders, straightened his poise gradually. And for once, he didn’t lie. ”I had plenty of time, but I had certainly other maters at hand to attend to.” And it was his turn to strip her with his eyes, and he took his time; slow and greedy, he slid his gaze on her from beginning to end. He stopped on her lips. “Anyhow, aren’t we on the same boat?” He implied, for he couldn’t recognize her costume either (and even if he did, he’d pretended otherwise). “Sure.”

He did as before and took her hand. He lead her to the dance floor, fingers reaching for her waist. He asked, casual. “So, may I know who you are?” 

[anxlytic-blog]

She quickly realized that she was beginning to enjoy this game more than she had anticipated, at least enough for her to temporarily forget the fury that brewed within. 

“Of course,” she commented with a soft chuckle. 

A masquerade it was, and she truly believed her partner took the theme literally. She wasn’t a girl of rash conclusions, instead, she was one of facts and educated guessed, and so she wasn’t about to stick to any first impressions left on her by her masked partner, however strong her hunches tingled. She was a detective, a scientist even, and that meant his every word and move were about to be thoroughly scrutinized. For once, she expected to enjoy her time considering the setting and circumstances.

She caught his gaze fully, and did not shift even as he replicated her scrutinizing, in fact, her lips might’ve stretched into a lopsided smile as she wondered precisely what he was noticing about her at that moment, or if he was simply indulging in that behaviour out of competitiveness. “Ah, my guess wasn’t too far off then.” She replied at his indication of his costume, but shrugged at his question without adding further. 

And so, they hit the dance floor. Perhaps it was that boost of confidence rushing through her that prompted her to suggest an activity she would rather avoid, but it wasn’t time to think about that right now. “You may, but not directly from my lips for now.” She replied with an airy chuckle, fingers brushing against his suit before finally resting near his shoulders, “that’s the whole purpose of the masks now, isn’t it?” 

She pursed her lips in a slight pucker, a habit of hers as she contemplated something, “So the Phantom of the Opera, huh?” She paused briefly, “you know, often when it’s time to pick a character to charade in, be it for something like this, or halloween, or anything of the sort... people tend to pick a character that they either identify with, admire, look up to, or are inspired by... but the Phantom...” she chuckled, quirking a concealed brow, “a brilliant mind with exceptional talent if you consider the original novel rather than most adaptations... yet a highly disfigured man, enough to be named, ‘le mort vivant’... a personification of misery and loneliness... never been loved, doesn’t know what it’s like to be loved, and yet... craved love most above all else.” She waltzed along with him absently as she went on, “He’s so much of a tortured soul, you could easily feel sorry for a man like that, but then he is shown as... obsessive, possessive... sadistic, cold-blooded... and at the end, regretful” Her lips stretched widely as she caught his eyes, “He’s someone who the world never treated kindly, and eventually, he lashes out... His whole existence is an actual tragedy, so what exactly pulled you towards a character like that? Do you identify with him, or was your choice out of... convenience?”

[anxlytic-blog]

Reversal of Circumstances.

[oxccisor-deactivated20160201]

Taemin took a step back, perhaps for the fact he’d misread the person in front of him entirely; he felt the ground of his feet slightly misaligned, his presumptions about her certainly squandered, seemingly disembodied, for her voice and actions reflected one of someone’s he hadn’t studied, he hadn’t known. And this should’ve been his cue, the hint which in another life he’d have grabbed, made a run for it in the end (for what was about to occur was partially unlikely of him, but not quite, as he could be an impulsive man). But Taemin didn’t take it, and while he was aware of it; conscious of the deliberate decision he was about to enact, electrified by her wit, the ambiance shifting as he enclosed the distance again (only this time, he gave her the appropriate room to breathe, to judge, to do what he already knew she did best). 

Taemin tipped his head to the side, chuckling. He looked at her head on, just like she had, and started: “Ah, okay.” He furled his brows under his mask, crossed his arms, his hand on his chin. “We’re gonna play this game, aren’t we?” He asked with a gleam in his eye, and like predator surveying it’s prey, he encircled her at a leisured pace. “I like games.” He paused, cat like grin slipping on his lips again, and figuratively, pounced. “Let’s see, I’ll go from end to start: you’re walking into what’s called, interest. In other words, which, I’m assuming you’re not as familiar with, considering you felt rather offended instead of flattered.” His hand left his mandible, and he looked at her intently. 

“Cautious instead of bold, and more importantly, the need to throw me off by providing points of my character that I did not need to know twice…” He hummed. “I’d say you’re single, never been married, perhaps not quite adept with relationships, or not actively seeking one. But someone might be for you, who knows. A superior? A family member? who was behind me? Do they matter? by your demeanor either you’re often spoken for, and bored by the prospect of it, or lesbian. I may go with lesbian, but let’s be honest here. I’m trying to be a gentleman.” He flashed his teeth at her. “But, since you haven’t exactly been checking out anyone, even while there have been enough attractive people checking you. I would still, very much so, say you hit for my team.“

Dramatically, he placed his hand, stretched out, over his chest. "But that’s me, just being positive. Can you blame me?” This time, his intentionally playful, feigned air of helplessness was see through.. “After all, as you know, couldn’t take my eyes off you.” He exhaled, mocked. “I’m enraptured.” However, inside, he’d be lying to himself if he wasn’t damn very interested in her right then.

[anxlytic-blog]

He was thrown off, and she finally felt like she could breathe normally. She never appreciated feeling like she was a puppet in someone’s hands, nor feeling like someone’s got an upper hand over her. So his reaction was a good sign that they’ll soon be on the same level again, and that pleased her well.

Head tilted; still interested. Gaze unbroken; confidence unshaken. Arms crossed; growing defensive. Hands on chin; contemplating a decision. His body language were cues that were like whispers in her ears. Whispers of her own voice in her head that she rarely consciously acknowledged. She tilted her own head at his question, raising her own brow with a lopsided smile, and shrugging lightly as if to respond with, “are we?” and she chuckled at his response, returning to her straight stance with her widened shoulders, unfazed and somewhat entertained by his encircling.

He delivered his own analysis, and she listened intently, unable to hold back the laugh that escaped her lips as he speculated over her sexual orientation. While her eyes might’ve squinted every so slightly at the mentioning of the person behind him, she had come to conclude that despite his curious ability to notice his surroundings, he couldn’t build an accurate deduction from them. She was as bold as they came, and rarely did anyone speak for her, and of course, the lesbian comment was somewhat outrageous; she was only a tad too picky, that was all.

She could hear the scorn in his tone as he finished up, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to it. It was something she was told a long time ago by a classmate; guys never like a girl that scratches their ego, but she always thought of it as, no one likes their ego being scratched. It was impolite of her to spill her analysis of him out loud, but at this point, she wasn’t about to take it back. She wanted to see how much she could get out of this guy now that she had, well, seen through the original façade he tried to paint.

“Trained.” Was her only response.

 “You know, why are you here? I mean. You clearly have an idea about what put me here,” she gestured with her eyes behind him, “But you...” she once again scrutinized his appearance from the top of his head and down to his toes, “you’re chic, classy, well dressed. But unthemed. This is a masquerade, and considering how everyone else is clearly prepped, like Count Dracula over there, and Marie Antoinette over here, why aren’t you the same? Are you here against your will? Or were you given a last minute notice?” She herself wasn’t dressed in a specific theme, but she figured he could blame that on the superior that put her there.

She then paused, “actually...” and pursed her lips into an intrigued smile, stretching her hand out to him, “I’d like to dance.”

[anxlytic-blog]

Reversal of Circumstances.

[oxccisor-deactivated20160201]

Taemin hadn’t foreseen reluctance, and for the briefest moment, it caught him off guard; he reviewed the file he’d been given a few days before inside his head, and he’d studied the subject then, commit to memory their preferences, desires, passions, dislikes. The resemblance hadn’t been erred, she’d posed, walked, and straightforward behaved like a woman born with a silver spoon in her mouth. He noticed her balance, albeit slightly slack, not quite composed and graceful. He figured by the way she favored one leg over the other, it had nothing to do with her pedigree. Regardless, everything he needed to know in order to succeed and more, he knew like the back of his hand. He recalled on cue her liking to these flamboyant, unnecessary scenes; bashfulness was an indication of it, she was notorious for feigning the attitude and demeanor of a damsel in distress. And he felt grateful for it, as it made the task easier, unavoidably faster to accomplish. Thus, a small smile tugged on his lips, and long, slender fingers encircled hers.

He dithered, however. His thumbs lightly brushed the skin of the back of her wrist before he withdrew his hand entirely. He shortened the distance, one, two, three steps. He contemplated over her stance, her features, her words. She was looking somewhere over his shoulder a few seconds ago.

He inclined his head to her ear, spoke softly; “We can do something else, if you want to. I wont do anything you don’t want.” He retreated slowly, carefully, an amused gleam on his eye. He glanced over her waist, leisurely, and as if he’d been approaching a cat, wrapped his arm around it, pulled her in at the speed of a snail. He looked above her head, holding back a chuckle. “and if your leg is a problem, you can take off your shoes.” He slightly tipped his head on her direction, ironically, making sure she had enough space to answer. He did so, against her temple. “and lean against me, like this.” He let go then, creating that gap again. He tucked his hands inside his pockets, nonchalant. He shrugged. “Up to you.”

[anxlytic-blog]

He hesitated, withdrew, and she quirked a brow beneath her mask. Then he took her by surprise for the second time that night by stepping into her personal space, and whispering in her ear. Sera had never been the touchy-feely type. She appreciated her personal space, and didn’t impose on another’s unless necessary. His words puzzled her, but only mildly, and she chose not to react until he was done. But it wasn’t until he noted her leg that her brows twitched, and her lips pursed, certainly in amusement, but she also felt somewhat exposed.

It didn’t sit well with her that he could so easily tell something that she attempted to hide. Not that there was any form of embarrassment or shame to be attached to an injured leg, but she had gone an extra step to conceal it. That being said, he had now successfully captured her attention. She caught his eyes in an intense gaze. Eyes were said to be the windows of the soul, but truly, it was the face that revealed all that was hidden within, and clearly, a masked face wasn’t as simple to read.

It wasn’t odd that a man of the upper class would behave the way he did, they often did really, and she always dismissed their behaviour. What differed her reaction to him from her reaction to every other guy of that type was that his recent note sparked a competitive flame in her chest. She breathed a light chuckle, shoulders wide and proud, and the corner of her lips tugged in an amused, and perhaps challenging smirk.

“I see… Confident. But not too pushy. Interested. But not overbearing. You’re a leader, but considerate enough to offer a choice… enough for a girl to feel like she has the upper hand. Smart. Manipulator. Gentlemanliness is your weapon. Natural, or trained? Hard to tell off the bat. But let me take an…” she paused, glancing him up and down, “educated guess. Trained. And last but not least, interestingly meticulous.” She particularly emphasized what had caught her eyes in him. “You’ve been watching me since I walked in. What am I walking into here, hm?” She finished with a jovial smile, and raised a concealed brow.

[anxlytic-blog]

Reversal of Circumstances.

[oxccisor-deactivated20160201]

Dishonesty; how easy it became to string words, one after another, tongue on the roof of your mouth, adhering meaning before your brain translated, caught up with the consequences of your choices. In which case, impulsive; a fringe left behind on the crime a scene, just a silp, and every unit fixed on top of another, once a column, an entire structure built, discarded and tumbled down by human nature; a concoction of gathered presumptions and plausibility, for the predisposition to deduct from the eye, assume from the surface, and enact from inherent belief, ever flawed and prone to error. Once under the influence of the heart, a transitory emotion, an instinctual response; perhaps, in the end, although fluctuant and even ambiguous, reliable, for it originated elsewhere (somewhere between, somehow not there).

Regardless, the path that laid ahead dimmed, and under scrutiny, hazardous. Taemin chose, regardless, to trespass the barriers, and while exposed, the possibility of being seized appeared daunting to most. He ventured venues and lived, explored unalike outcomes. Brash, he welcomed the weight of his own deceit. He wanted to be left crippled and bereft. What else, when the light offers nothing but cruelty?

And albeit, the constant exchange of the latter seethed through each guest that eased on his radar, likewise sharing his counterbalanced trait. He stood serene, unconcerned, and knowing. Gaze petulant yet compelling, beguiling; his finger enclosing a cup of glass within digits.

His eyes slid over the crowd, brushing past dresses, tuxedos and masks. Veils and excuses for performances worthy of being considered art. His hand lifting a beverage to his lips before he grabbed a card out of his pocket. His intentions intent on the person who mirrored the symbol printed on the front.. He looked up again and met her, found her, as arranged.

He gave her a lopsided smile, but raised a brow (although the action unseen, concealed), inquiring under his hooded expression. He immediately flipped the card. Then, aware of what followed, he stretched his arm, casting it aside along his drink on a tray passing by. He took a step in, closer as he opened his palm and expanded his fingers, cordial. He asked: “’Dance with me?”  

[anxlytic-blog]

What were the chances?

She breathed an amused chuckle at the sight of his card that mirrored her own. How convenient. Each time she caught his eyes lingering on her, her curiosity regarding his reason increased. She did not recognize him, but at the same time, she wasn’t a frequent goer of these parties. Perhaps now she could learn of what sparked his not-so-subtle interest in her.

And, of course. He had to ask her to dance.

It was clear that the host had decided to call Valentine’s day a few months early, on Halloween’s night to be precise, from the moment it was announced that each of them would be assigned a random partner to spend the night with. Dancing was a mere default in these gatherings, she had come to conclude from her past experiences.

So, how else could a night like this possibly start?

It wasn’t that her dancing was especially atrocious, but she more often than not failed herself when dancing with a partner. She wasn’t much of the clumsy type, and so for the life of her, she could not understand why she was so prone to taking a wrong step, or worse, tripping during a spin, amongst the many other errors of the sort. She rarely, if ever, committed these mistakes with her dance instructor.

She pursed her lips in amusement, a poor attempt to hide that his offer had managed to take her by surprise, and she threw a glance to the side, incidentally catching sight of none other than her mother, who seemed to pause her conversation and throw her a stressed smile.

Once again, she breathed a light chuckle. “Alright…” She took his hand, and allowed him to lead the way.

At least if she screwed up this time, she could blame it on her injured leg.