Instead I sleep.

I have only two emotions, careful fear and dead devotion. I can't get the balance right.

[reverieo]

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.

The rosary weighs much too heavy around him. When the beads brush upon his throat, they burn against his skin with kisses of fire. Uncomfortable, he removes it above his head and soon the precious item rests upon his palm. It’s fucking stupid, but he thinks the figure on the cross stares at him, and they meet eyes. It’s a look of sorrow. Some look of remorse and above anything else, a look of disappointment. His fingers are haste to clutch against it out of view, fisting up as the cross sinks into his palm until the pressure embeds the shape into his bare hand. And soon it burns there again. The cross burns at the mercy of his own palm. The cross burns. The son of God burns. Something inside of him murmurs. Finally.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me besides the still waters. 

He never understands why the priest comes cloaked in white every time of worship, then speak with smudged lips of how much they are all sinners, including himself. His eyes see the stains among the white dress. The glass decor lining the walls high above them besides the lights bring in the sun, and as the priest makes a sudden turn towards the left, a piece of red glass catches him and there is red coloring his white robe. This red is not beautiful, not peaceful like it should be. He sees the grime infesting it. This is not Jesus’ blood. It’s unsettling to him and he suddenly feels sick as someone comes to sit by him, opening up an envelope for offering.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

“Religion is induced insanity.” He listens to the professor speak, with his own skull resting on a palm. He’s given up on taking notes on such bullshit a long time ago, and so he just listens – at least with the notion to revel in such words of a sinner. “Religion is what people made up a long time ago to try to explain mysteries. Which is fine. But then –” He waves a stick in the air, all pompous. He doesn’t want to admit it, but the image is so fucking similar to the one of his own priest. “These insane bastards try to make themselves oh so righteous with this made up bull and soon they’re the ones who tell others if they deserve heaven or hell.”

His fingers claw at his own collar, letting his neck breathe. The lecture hall is damp and absolutely gross – the material of his shirt clings onto him with fingers of their own. “Religion is made up by people who wanted a reason to be better than the next – when in actuality, we’re all fucked up in the same way.” There are fingers by his throat. “We’re all the same.” He grabs his notebook and exits the room. There are fingers by his throat the whole day, right into when night cloaks over the skies.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Death glooms by him as he sits with a corpse, dramatic and ever so pained as he cries. He cries like a child until he does not have the will to do so anymore. Her eyes remain open and he fucking hates the way they are just his own. She looks pained, unsettled and so feared of the unknown. His hands shake and they try to just barely hover over her face but then he flinches, and her blood smudges against her colorless cheek. He quickly lids her eyes and still, she looks so daunted by something. He cries again – this time he cries for the Lord.

God, our heavenly, loving Father –

He cries, he prays. His hands are gathered while his arms remain around her, and he trembles because he feels how cold she is. Please, please let me wake up from this dream. It must be a dream. God, please help me wake up, please help Hayong and I both wake up. LORD PLEASE –

God doesn’t answer.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

“Do you really mean to tell me the only reason you try to be good is to gain God’s approval and reward, or to avoid his disapproval and punishment?” He nips at his bottom lip while his eyes absentmindedly peer over the sacred book he holds between the very tips of his fingers. “That’s not morality, that’s just sucking up, apple-polishing, looking over your shoulder at the great surveillance camera in the sky, or the still small wiretap inside your head, monitoring your every move, even your every base though.” His thumbs sweep over the golden edges and he swears, he fucking swears that for a moment his caress turns the pages gray. It was as if they were tainted by them, painted by the sins even his fingers held. “Jiyong, stop going to that church, it’s a waste of time, and you know you don’t belong there in the first place.” A pair of fingers clutch his chin all of a sudden, and he stares up at a face with structure so mirrored to his own. 

“Stop lying to yourself.” Three years later, he hears her grin from the grave. She mocks him, even as a pile of ash. I told you so, Jiyong. 

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

You look beautiful. He doesn’t shy away to take a moment to push through her hair, watching the way the sun graced lips upon her skin. She did not reflect the light, nor did she absorb it – instead she basked in it, glowing so brilliantly. Her dress was white – and he did not comment on her choice of color. Because in a way, they both knew. They were dirty and something like a color of white did not fit them.

His hands hold onto hers and he hopes she doesn’t feel the slight jitter between his veins. His blood is rushing a bit too fast as they climb – and by the time they stand by the grand, majesty doors of the basilica, he remembers himself. He sees the Jiyong he was a number of years ago, alone and besides the cracked window, with the bible perched open under dim light. He hears himself chant Psalm 23 over and over until it becomes some bewitching charm to help him sleep. 

Their eyes meet and he gives her a reassuring smile. A slight tug, then a firm pull and soon they’re both underneath a high ceiling. The church is beyond beautiful, beyond remarkable and a sight truly only achieved under the view of God himself. As they walk through the main aisle, he holds her hand tighter, clutching until he feels the bones of his knuckles wish to push beyond the limits of his skin. He stares at the cross dead ahead. He doesn’t feel anything burn inside of him. He stares at the individuals with closed eyes and bowed heads scattered here and there among the seats and he smiles.

God, their heavenly, loving Father – 

Fuck you. 

[jixsn-blog]

           Restoreth:                       to bring back into existence, use, or the like; reestablish.

He restoreth my soul. He restoreth my soul. He restoreth my soul.

The words create an echo inside of her head as they move through the church. Aria’s eyes fall on a priest that stands not too far away with his back achingly straight and an ancient bible held securely in his hands as he reads aloud. Their eyes meet the moment he looks up from the aged pages. His elderly eyes stare back into hers so intently that it almost feels as if he can read her every thought, unnerving and yet so enchanting that she cannot seem to look away-- It takes her a while to put a name to the feeling, she is transfixed by his presence. Interest peeked by the sight of someone that is willing, no, worthy enough to serve such a divine and holy spirit such as God. And she wants so badly to bask in his presence and to soak in the spirit, to become a beacon of light anything to help aid her against the ever growing darkness that surrounds her world.

“Do you have a question for me, child?”

Aria nearly flinches despite the gentleness of what seems to be an innocent question. It’s that question that snaps her back into reality, it wasn’t a dream where she could indulge herself and always count on waking up later. This was reality. The priest's is so welcoming at first and it moves her because it’s the voice that a shepard uses to lure a wondered lamb to come back to him. What the voice does not tell is of the cruelness that later ensues: a broken leg to ensure that the lamb learns to become dependent on the shepard and therefore never wonders again or be slaughtered for its meat. The priest is offering her an invitation to begin again but the bitter reality of it all sets in and leaves an unpleasant taste in her mouth. 

I’m not a sheep she wants to tell him, I’m a nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing and no amount of scripture could rinse the taste of blood from my mouth. 

The two share a silence and patient he is as he waits for her to answer him. Eventually Aria gives a tiny shake of her head, silently declining the offer and his eyes harden at the bitter reality of another missed opportunity. Another soul lost. forever. “I just want to know...” Is it possible to restore something that a fire has turned to soot. “What chapter were you reading from?”

The man blinks at her which proves that obviously expecting a different question and for a moment she’s terrified that he’s going to call her out. This is a man that can rip her to shreds without lifting a finger from that holy book in his hands. She was ignorant to think that a white dress was enough to fool anyone into thinking that she was pure and the way he saw it was simple... You’re either a follower or a deceiver, for or against, friend or foe. And Aria fell into the category of deceiver, against, and foe. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, indeed.

“Psalm 23.” 

“Thank you.” She replies, bowing her head slightly as a sign of respect before approaching the alter. She gazes at the high ceiling at the portrait of a man whose name is Jesus with his arms spread and welcoming. This figure is also unfamiliar to her but it captivates her all the same. She finds that she is unable to look away from the face as she kneels at the foot of the steps, clasps her hands together, and then closes her eyes and recites the last line of the scripture. 

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”

There’s a holy presence here that differs from the presence that surrounds the priest whose eyes she can still feel on her. This causes her to hesitate before removing a daisy from her hair. Skyler had given it to her early that morning, the poor flower was already starting to wilt but the intent behind it is still there. It was a symbol of love and because of that its value to her is worth more than precious jewels or anything that money can buy so she lays it at the foot of the alter, giving away her most valued possession. “Thank you,” She says quietly, looking into the eyes of the mosaic Jesus, wiping tears that are running on her cheek with the back of her hand. “for understanding.” what she doesn’t say nor needs to say out loud is this: Keep him safe. Please, God. Please keep Skyler safe.

When she turns away, she doesn’t look back. 

[reverieo]

You’re (slowly, lovingly) killing me, but I can’t seem to fucking care. 

[wnq-music]

Guilt is cancer. Guilt will confine you, torture you, destroy you. It’s a black wall. It’s a thief.

Dave Grohl (via wnq-music)

[reverieo]

France is home, Paris is not. But before he can sort out anything logistically the way his mind so naturally functioned, the word home haunts him, cackles even. Because when ever had he truly had something to call home?

He truly could not say a word, even murmur them. But still, they were left in the way he lingered on her face for too long, staring for too long always. They were kept by how tightly woven their fingers were when they held each other’s hands, and the way he always squeezed every other moment – as if she needed reminding that he was very much there, right beside her. They were also found when he often just embraced her, quietly from behind when she looked so frail, so fucking fragile over something that had appeared in a dream. They were found in the way his fingers tangled in between her hair, and the way he wished to lull her with his voice and hushed whispers they would exchange of, it’s alright now, you’re awake and I am here, right here for you. 

It was just a dream. 

But a dream is never just a dream (stop fucking lying to yourself, he always scowls back) – and they are the pair that knows that fact better than anyone else. He had been far too long losing track of the gray line between reality and his subconscious reality. Both were too real to him, and perhaps even the subconscious world a little more. It was hard to make the real world your reality when everything you desired existed in the other. It was just so fucking easy to fall into the hands of a fantasy that spoke to you as if everything you ever wanted and dreamt of was real. It was so easy to just let go, forget about actual reality and yes, just fall.

He falls but then there’s always what springs him back up. Because even he, the eternal and perpetual dreamer has a reason to come back to reality, and that was Aria. The whole idea was idiotic, living and letting oxygen breathe through you for the sake of one person. To be alive for one person, how fucking foolish of a thought. Yet here he stood, in dead real reality, somewhere in Paris with her, who had shown him the world. It was fucking stupid, foolish and plain pathetic. Yet he lived.

And he remembers that he is truly alive every time she has his hand in his, like in the now, as they stroll through the underground of the metro and familiar tunes meet all around him. He doesn’t know why but the lyrics of this particular song touch him where he can’t exactly figure out, perhaps much like one of those invisible itches you never could figure out the source of. The sights are so familiar as well, from the red bricked walls to the pale faces with golden locks to just the scenic nature of the city. This was France, after all – the closest thing you could get to a perfect, dream-like setting. And it truly was such a breathtaking sight wherever you turned. 

When they walk up the stairs, the sun greets them but then disappears shyly behind the hovering clouds. A perfect day – and he only admits to this because the breeze falls just right and Aria’s hair catches it. He smells a flower shop somewhere (although when could you not spot a florist shop in a place like Paris), and it mixes with Aria’s perfume. There’s a smile on her face and god, there’s so much desire to just kiss her the way the sun’s ray always does. He doesn’t admit that he is jealous of the sun because that was another fucking foolish thought. Jealous of the sun. A fool in love. But his love burned hotter than the sun.

He brings himself out of it and the city helps him too.

Perhaps it is not a kiss where he wants it to be, but he brings Aria’s hand close to his face, until he places a chaste peck upon her knuckles. Then he smiles, because while the music has faded from the underground, above ground there still remains melodies, from a street performer somewhere in close proximity. He meets her eyes and his mind remembers again, that this is more than a reason to keep on living; to keep fighting from the hands of dreams that were oh so fucking alluring. His hands start to sign something for her right before he starts to lead them up a pathway. 

– Let’s climb, up to Sacré-Cœur Basilica. – – Then we’ll go home, I have something to show you. –

It’s foolish to think he’s ever had a home, but Aria is his rendition of just that. And he finds the same homey comfort in her hands, in her eyes and the way she holds him so fucking close. He hates it, hates the way he just feels so much for her. He hates it but he loves it. He loves her.

[jixsn-blog]

Skyler’s stance on religion had always been a bit different from hers. It was a difference that she usually chalked it up as another surprising perk of his, even the first gift he had given her was a was a rosary.

Rosary. Just the mere thought of that particular rosary brought back a strong slew of regret that sent pangs straight to her heart as she remembers how nonchalant she had been after noticing it was gone and how indifferent she had been when she mentioned the lost to Skyler after he had asked her about when he too noticed it was missing. “It’s gone.” She had stated simply, turning a page in a magazine. “Remember when that jacket I lost on the river ride. It was in the pocket.”

It’s the silence that causes her to look up, staring at him with a placid look in her eyes that said it’s nothing whereas his expression said how could you understand that it is? It’s everything.  

The defeated slump of his shoulder are what give him away, a clear sign of his disappointment and for the first time, she actually feared he wouldn’t comeback when he said nothing before leaving their apartment. Despite the fact he did comeback, they never spoke of the rosary again and it bothered her. She knows she let him down, was this her second chance, a chance to make it up to him after so many years?

Aria is both excited and curious about his eagerness to visit Sacré-Cœur Basilica. And so she stands on tip toe, placing a tiny kiss on the corner of his lips, “There’s nothing I’d love more.” She says, allowing him to take the lead and show her the way. 

They climb stairs, god, there are so many stairs, but Skyler’s energy seems to be endless. That was the other thing Aria loved about being in France was how evident it was that Skyler came alive in this country. The only time they stop is when she spots a store and decides that her current outfit was not exactly appropriate, “Skyler, I can’t go to a church wearing a tank top and a mini skirt.” She insists, giving Skyler’s simple attire an envious look. “You wouldn’t understand because you look good in everything.”

Half an hour later, Aria pays for her new purchases and leaves the shop dressed simply in a white summer dress with tiny multicolored flowers that embroidered near the hems of the dress, and seem to dance every time she moved. It was so plain, and so simple that she didn’t exactly stand out but that’s exactly how she liked it-- being able to fade into the background in moments of shyness.

“I spent so much time staring at it in the shop that I didn’t have time to pick out any other shoes.” Pointing to her boots, she looks up at Skyler from behind the curtain of her long hair, suddenly a little nervous again because he knew so much more about these things than she did and she wanted so badly to make a good impression for him. 

Skyler doesn’t seem to mind, Thankfully. 

They walk arm in arm in a comfortable silence, both listening to their own set of sounds that catch their attention. Aria likes to listen to the sound that their feet make on the pavements, matching not matching, and matching again it comforts her until her mind wanders again the closer they get to the church.

“Skyler?” Am I a sinner? She remembers stories from the few books of the bible that are from so far back in her childhood she’s not even certain her memory is accurate. One story stands out the most, the story of when a man would go up to pray and anyone who dared disturb him died instantly simply because they were unworthy. Did that still happen and could it happen to her? 

Entering the dream world was considered to be slightly unorthodox to begin with it. And she knows that Skyler has an small idea of what it was she actually did on the few dream assignments she took part in now. Aiding in planting an idea that will can either change a persons very core belief system-- to tearing a person from the inside out, which essentially caused them to loose everything-- What was she to God now? 

 When her eyes raise to meet his for a fleeting moment, nervousness fades away. It takes her even longer to realise that he’s still waiting for her to finish whatever it was she was going to ask.

“It’s nothing, I was just being silly. What are you going to show me?” She inquires instead of her initial question. Her hand falls from his arm to intertwine their fingers, rubbing a circle into his skin with her thumb. It’s the only outward sign that she is still nervous, almost certain that his skin must be rubbed raw by now, but she can’t seem to stop doing it subconsciously during moments of stillness or whenever she starts to feel unworthy even just by staring at the exterior because the church is so beautiful and the sight of Paris surrounding is so breath taking, she’s thankful Skyler doesn’t protest. 

“Skyler, I... are you sure you want me to go in with you?” She asks in a small voice, timid even. Aria stares wide eyed at the doors of the church that are supposedly always open and willing to welcome in God’s children. 

[wnq-writers]

I take walks at night when I can’t sleep. And  in that field all alone I feel more at home with the distant light of the lamp a mile down the street. I don’t know why I find so much comfort in not knowing where I am going but knowing it is better than here. I pray to a god I don’t believe in that one day people can be happy. If I could, I would take all the pain from you. I know you deserve it more than me. I never knew what it felt like to have a purpose in my life or in myself, until I met you. I wish I knew you sooner and how you mind perfectly mimics my own. Love me like your old mattress, put the weight of your existence  onto me so I can feel what it’s like to have a purpose. You tell me I am helping you. You tell me I am making you better. So I keep praying to a god I don’t believe in to help someone find a purpose and to give them the happiness they deserve, who knew it would be you. When we first met you told me how much you loved sleep. But your naps soon turned into walks and sleeping at nine became 3am talks. You say I make you feel a little more alive. It’s 2:35am and I am thinking about a life without you. I hardly see a purpose in that.

sabrinatsea, It was nice meeting you (via wnq-writers)

[mitchellwrites]

deathless ♚ sentence meme

You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast.

You are going to break your promise. I understand.

You’re lonely too.

It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be.

I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable.

I am your servant.

I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased.

For you alone I will be weak.

I belong here, and you will not deny me.

I say these things, and the world listens.

I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried.

In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.

I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.

I moved the earth and the water for you.

You will always run away with her.

You will always lose her.

You will always be a fool.

You will always be dead, in a city of ice, snow falling into your ear.

You have already done all of this and will do it again.

No one should be judged for loving more than they ought, only for loving not enough.

We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying.

What we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape.

There need never be any rules between us.

Let us be greedy together; let us hoard.

Do not leave me, swear that you will never leave me.

I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I.

Sleep with fists closed and shoot straight.

I can’t abide a poor liar.

You look like a winter’s night. I could sleep inside the cold of you.

Oh, quit that. Blushing is for virgins and Christians.

Scold me; deny me. Tell me you want what you want and damn me forever. But don’t leave me.

Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.

In his own country, Death can be kind.

What is the world but a boxing ring where fools and devils put up their fists?

Men die. It’s practically what they’re for.

I am no one; I am nothing.

Nothing in me was not made by you.

A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.

Just tell yourself a story that’ll satisfy you and pretend he told it.

Forever isn’t bright; it isn’t like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.

I savor bitterness - it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived.

If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.

What did I do wrong? Was I boring? Did I ignore you?

Don’t you dare speak to me like that.

I have worn nothing but blood and death for years.

I have fought all your battles for you, just as you asked me.

I have learned not to cry when I strangle a man.

I have learned to watch everything die.

I am not a little girl anymore, dazzled by your magic. It is my magic, now, too.

Are we not devils?

No one is now what they were before the war.

I have not seen you without your skin on.

Close up your head; your brain is getting loose.

We obsess. It’s in our nature.

I’ve a devil of a habit for being right.

In war you must always choose sides.

If you try to be a bridge laid down between them, they will tear you in half.

We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive.

My old bones will follow yours soon enough.

It is better to be strong and cruel than to be fair.

I will see him with his skin off before I agree to fall in love.

After love, no one is what they were before.

I have survived, but I have not been spared.

In the space of one heartbeat to another I loved you and I was lost to you.

Frighten me, make me cry, only come back.

It’s not so bad, my darling. Being dead. It’s like being alive, only colder.

You’ll think it’s love, while he dines on your heart.

You will be so beautiful when you are old.

I cannot keep you and I cannot let you go.

You will live as you live in any world…with difficulty, and grief.

I look at you and it is like my throat being cut.

She said you’d come and I swore to eat your heart.

I still want to kiss you.

My heart is being cut in two. I cannot bear it.

What happens to anything beautiful?

I have to know, I have to or else you will just rule me until the end of everything because you know and I do not.

[dreamgodkai-a]

{ ❛ dreaming—

   It wasn’t that Jongin had any grand master plan or any reason behind doing what he did other than he couldn’t resist the urge of allure dreams had. It was much like breathing to him– so second nature that repressing his ability caused him physical pain. When his eyes closed, his mind opened quite literally until his subconscious glued itself onto another’s like a leech. He didn’t question it and the universe owed him no answers ofwhy, how, when–

   He had long accepted that feeding off other’s dreams was what he was destined to do. It was something he had to do. If he wanted to live as a human he had to have some substance. And earthling food didn’t cut it. Dreams. Good dreams that were pleasant on his eyes. And nightmares that left his stomach turning. He wasn’t a picky eater.

   And yet again he found himself in the mind of a dreamer. As soon as his head hit the pillow and his eyes closed did his mind open up to the realm of dreams. He was lured toward one particular dreamer and he landed with a thump in the centerfold of their dreaming landscape– the center of their unconscious. He dusted himself off as he looked around rather curious. Where was he? Who were they? And what was their dream about?

[jixsn-blog]

    Tonight, there is something that’s not quite right. There is an unusual hush in the air tonight-- like that of the calm before the storm, and whatever it is, Aria can’t exactly pinpoint it and why it doesn’t feel right. On a normal night, she would trust her gut feeling, but there isn’t time to investigate.  

      Pulling a pocket watch from the pockets of her vest, she takes a moment to wind it and then tucks it away again. It begins to tick in her pocket-- Tick, Tock, Tick a constant reminder of the time and she walks over to a plain house near her right, opens the door, and enters. The minute the door is shut she is greeted with the sounds of slots machines, loud cheers from people gambling, and the strong scent of alcohol. Making her way toward the empty roulette table-- her station for tonight-- and settles behind it. Already dressed for the occasion, the table instantly attracts business, and she waits for her a particular player. 

       There’s a young man, and she thinks over the mission details. Is this someone she’s supposed to work with or was he a projection of the person she was waiting for subconscious? When he takes a seat at her table she studies him a bit closer, unable to shake the feeling of uncertainty that was settling in the pit of her stomach. "Would you like to place a bet, sir?” She says, professionally, tearing her gaze from the strangers mysterious face and onto the chips on the table as other people around made their bets. “I have a feeling you’re going to win big tonight.” 

[jixsn-blog]

                                       ○   ARIA LEE  ○ ♤ ♢ ♡ ♧  ○

“Dreams feel real while we’re in them.  It’s only when we wake up that we realize something was actually strange.” 

My name is Aria Lee and the information about my past is top secret, the following details cannot leave the confinements of this room. But the question is.... can I trust you? 

                  FOLLOW ○ CLASSIFIED ○ PRESENT  ○ REBLOG? (whispers please)

[reverieo]

Somedays he gets too greedy. His eyes lingers one minute too long on her, on the way her eyelashes find purchase right against her lower eyelid as her eyes come to a close. Another time maybe, he keeps himself seated on the kitchen table longer than he really needs, jaw moving ever so slowly because he knows she refuses to leave him to eat alone when around. It’s also the days where she requests of him to shake her awake before eight, and although he’s fully up by seven, he waits another fifty-nine minutes to place a hand on her shoulder. 

Today, it’s the way his fingers leave no space in between their hands. He enjoys the subtle, quiet and modest exchange of temperature between their skin this way. True desires unknown are kept hushed, trapped just in the way he places a little too much pressure against her knuckles and tender palm.

It doesn’t surprise him when he feels the start of a yank away. Soon his hand is left alone with no exchange, no contact. His body only turns around to gaze upon the empty seat beside him when he knows she’s left the compartment fully. He hides greed behind a pained smile, sullen as he gazes upon his empty palm. He lets his elbow rest upon the arm of the chair, and soon his thoughts are blurred once again by the ever shifting scenery outside. The sun has descended so quickly that he has missed the sunset. Instead of reds, oranges and yellows, he sees the sky painted with darker hues, suddenly reminiscent.

Just as the failed job had taken away everything from his other half to his voice – it had also taken so much from Aria. She never mentioned anything, but these secrets were kept behind opaque screens or penned up spaces. He could only seep through them when he stumbled upon them, often by chance. It was never anything he liked, but there was that strange comfort there in knowing than letting it rot just Aria, alone.

Somewhere along the journey, he had promised – not verbally but to himself and her, that he would not let her do anything alone anymore. But it was difficult when Aria was much like him, a mind who needed time to themselves to think through, to reflect and contemplate – without the obstruction of another. It was something Sky knew Aria did not realize: they were almost two sides to the same coin, except when thrown up against the ground, he wished for his side to be against the cement, not hers. She would need to face the sky – and the irony, he thought – the irony of him calling himself such a name. 

When she returns, he does not react any differently. By now he knows not to behave out of place with her. Instead, he is subtle in the way he takes the fruit. His nails dig into the orange peel and starts to let the actual seed bearing part of the fruit reveal itself, with the acid trickling down his fingers all the while. Once finished, he held out the first piece to her of course. This was the only way he could show her his presence, remind her that he was there. There for no one else but her, because he was… he was her sky. 

[jixsn-blog]

Distant. Those are the words she first thinks of as she chews the fruit. She watches him eat his share and there’s a little bit of heart ache while her eyes linger on his. What went on inside that head of his? He had seen the worst of nightmares that infected her dreams-- but she had yet to see his. 

She had seen glimpses... a glimpse of a familiar face-- a ghost of a memory with Skyler’s nose and eyes, but looked at her with cold eyes, and a shard of glass clutched in one bleeding hand. A memory she never questioned Skyler about. It was his dream and she had wandered in uninvited. You can’t tempt a memory that has manifested into something more than just dream fragments with something that it couldn’t resist. A path of freedom, A direct escape route from where it lived trapped inside an environment built strictly from memories were there was once harmony but for some unknown reason things changed. You can’t mess with a person’s mind and expect to get away unscathed or deal with the repercussions. It was a game she wouldn’t play again, because the last time she played to loose she had almost lost something that she couldn’t do without. Skyler’s trust.

The train pulls into the Métro Abbesses and the two of them get off. Climbing the staircase, Aria is pleased to see that the morals that cover the wall are paintings of flowers, and as they walk hand in hand. There’s music echoing off the ceramic tile covered walls, a song she first heard a long time ago and often would sing as a child but more importantly, they say that there’s a song you associate with a person you love and just as Aria looks toward Skyler, like many times before, she hears La Vie En Rose. 

Il me dit des mots d’amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça me fait quelque chose ♪

She wonders if Skyler remembers the first time they had rented an apartment in some small city in France. A small cramped spaced and the air conditioning didn’t work, but that was before her sleep condition and he still had a voice. She spent weeks learning how to play the song together even though he chained smoked and even to this day her guitar still reeks of cigarettes. She could simply ask him, but the was peace in their silence today both lost in their own day dreams. 

When they pass the person sitting on a bench. There is a record player beside him, and Aria drops a couple of euros into the cup beside him. He nods his head, and Aria offers a tiny smile before turning toward Skyler. “Where to now?” She asks a little timid, and not exactly keen on seeing her family so soon. There’s also the tired sag to Skyler’s shoulders and it eats at her heart. If there was a way she could make it easier for Skyler to sleep, to give him her condition but without nightmares and only sweet dreams, she would happily get lost in dreams with him forever, if only it worked that way.

“We can figure out where the home we’ll be staying in is?” 

But for now, all she can do is offer a shoulder to sleep on and her warm body to hold close on the  nights that sleep overtakes him either with pills or by pure exhaustion. And run gently fingers over his bare shoulders to help soothe him, murmuring silent prayers into his hair. Funny, before she had met Skyler she was never religious, even now Aria doesn’t attend church but it’s also funny-- when you love another how quickly you will seek help from the great unknown for answers. Anything to ease your mind that you are doing your best and that the one you love is no longer haunted by horrors that used to cause him to wake up screaming in the dead of night. 

Et dès que je l’aperçois Alors je sens en moi Mon coeur qui bat ♪

“There’s so much to do... now that we’re home, Skyler.” She says, stepping out of the station and onto the sidewalk, the last bars of the song echo out of the open staircase. And she closes her eyes, facing the sun and hums along. She holds Skyler’s hand a bit tighter, “Let’s enjoy ourselves like we used to do, yeah?” 

[jixsn-blog]

Librarian, page number 7.

Send me “Librarian!” + a number.

[ But look you, found the notice didn’t you? ]

“Yes... Yes I did. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying Beware of The Leopard.” There is complete silence as Aria and Skyler eye each other from opposite ends of the wooden table. She flexes her grip on the table edge, taking notice of how he keeps an eye on her-- waiting for her to lounge at him any moment.

The more she thinks about it the more ridiculous their little lover’s quarrel seemed. Where they really fighting over missing concert tickets and was it really necessary for her to take hostage of the posters that were once hanging up in his bedroom? The one of the beautiful idol with a body that would have Goddess Venus seething in jealousy over those fine curves? “And what’s with the Beware of The Leopard sign?”

After she speaks she has to look away, holding the posters tighter to her chest while trying to regain her composure. If Skyler even noticed a hint of a smile on her face, he would consider the war over and another victory for him. Which means he would accompany her, nor give her back her precious other ticket to the Nick Jonas concert. “Give it up, buddy. You are going to that concert if you want to see these posters ever again.” She narrows her eyes, challenging him to challenge her. “Hand over the tickets and no one, 2D or 3D gets hurt.”  

[rosehairedarchive]

New Munday meme because we need one

[jixsn-blog]

Name: Kiara or as i like to say KI DOLLAR SIGN AH (just kidding) (or am I?) Age: 20 Birthday: A month ago today First muse on Tumblr: Chanyeol. An indie guitarist trying to make it out in the harsh streets of Hongdae lol First RP url: chanxyl Why did you pick your first muse?: My dumb (perfect) friend had nagged at me to join rp but I always resisted (cough 3 years) but last August she convinced me to join a rp band. (the work in process) we were great! we had a drummer (drumseok) a bassist (jongin) and the lead guitarist (mwah) and our groupie (taxihun) it was fun because we’re all close ooc and still are. Latest muse on Tumblr: jixsn. I’m still developing her rn. Latest RP url: jixsn Why did you pick your latest muse?: BECAUSE MY WITTLE POOH BEAR OF A HUSBAND DLVBY WANTED TO RP INCEPTION AND I WANTED TO AND LOOK WHERE WE ARE NOW. Best RP Memory: It would have to be the pirate au. THAT WAS THE GREATEST THING EVER.  Worst RP Memory: I don’t have one! aside from jongin ditching the band (HDU) What are all the muses you had on Tumblr?: guitarist chanyeol, mechanic tao, 500 days of summer au myun, cowboy bebop au yeol, and a harry potter muse baekhyun (closed rp) and now Aria Longest muse?: guitarist chanyeol, and my joonmyun Shortest muse?: Aria Any advice for RPing?: Avoid drama. Literally. I actually haven’t gotten into any drama with anyone, but my friends have and it makes me sad because I love writing with them but they end up leaving because of fights or other crap. Be kind, be friendly, and if something makes you uncomfortable LET THE OTHER PERSON KNOW or just don’t interact with them. seriously, it’s not worth your mental health we’re all here to have fun and improve our writing.

[hyunasgf]

The distance between our lips is still 50cm

[kimjxdae]

Volunteering Together

jixsn

Today was Jongdae’s first day volunteering at the children’s center in Seoul and it would be an understatement to say that he was nervous. Jongdae was so anxious about volunteering that he only had two and a half hours of sleep the night before and barely kept his breakfast down from earlier that day. It’s not that Jongdae was bad with children, children actually took a liking to him believe it or not. It was the fact that Jongdae would be working with someone he had never met before and that’s what made him nervous.

The last time Jongdae was assigned a random person to work with was a complete nightmare. The guy that worked with him couldn’t stand him and yelled at Jongdae over the littlest things, making him a complete nervous wreck. 

Jongdae swallows a growing lump in his chest as he walks into the center, smiling slightly when he saw the person he assumed he would be working with. “H-Hi. I’m Jongdae and I a-assume we’ll be volunteering with each other today?”

[jixsn-blog]

The little hand that holds on tightly to hers is enough to melt Aria’s heart slightly. Wandering the halls of the children’s center, the two of them peek into class rooms in hopes of finding a stuffed rabbit. They peek under sofas, behind other children’s bags and even checked a few trash cans. Still no sign of the fluffy creature. 

Spotting another worker, the little girl takes off and hugs him around the legs. Clearly she knows him and begins to ramble on about her lost and close to tears. “I’m Aria Lee and it’s a pleasure to meet you Jongdae.” She bows her head politely, mostly to hide her own nervousness. “And yes! I guess we’re assigned to work together today.” 

The little girl tugs on the others pants leg urgently, reminding both of them that there was still the issue of her toy and Aria looks at Jongdae with a hopeful expression. “Do you think she perhaps left it outside? I’ve looked everywhere for it and she told me she can’t sleep without it!” 

[claireluisa]

I’m picturing us on rooftops in strange cities, with strange people, and us. Always us.

[jixsn-blog]

reverieo replied to your post: 

(( fuck this why am i in love with you still ))

(( you pretentious princess i will spoil TO DEATH i hate this

[jixsn-blog]

(( @god why is aria so cute ))

Because God made me that way. When he made me he accidentally put in a little too much sugar, spice, and everything nice. Oh, and inevitable charm, wit, and don’t forget-- CUTENESS. 

[iu-kawaii]