00:28:33

[ sideblog ]: give me rampant intellectualism as a coping mechanism.

[movedtokseiju]

◤ APRIL 05, 2017 — PARASITE PT. 2 : DEVIL IN THE FLESH◢

“Failure..”

And for the nth time has he heard the same line over and over again. It can’t just be his imagination. It’s a murmur, nothing loud, but nothing too indistinct for him to ignore either. The distraction is once again put aside as Hanjae drowns himself in work; books and paperwork messily sprawled across his desk, pencil between his teeth with a mind wandering all over the place in search for decent answers he could jot down after finishing a chapter regarding the impact of incentives on employees. 

“..Y-Yunhyeong..”

There it goes again. He exhales an exasperated sigh, rises from his seat, pencil dropped on the table and he glances around the room just in case somebody was inside. 1.) Under the bed - check, 2.) Closet - check, 3.) Bathroom - check. Nobody seems to be around, but the same voice has been haunting him for the day. Demons inside his head, perhaps? Now that would be ridiculous for he’s embraced them for many years now. Several minutes passed and now he’s found himself albeit prostate on his bed, eyelids on the verge of closing and body yielding to slumber. And his eyes finally do close. For a minute? Two minutes? Maybe all it took was just a few seconds for him to retract the idea of slumber. “C-Can’t. Kill. Y-Yunhyeo-ng--” eyelids gradually lifting, he groans at the anonymous voice once again, albeit bitter hearing the name he already threw away. Then he feels a shift from his right hand but disregards it.

Eyes finally open, only then does he realize that the source of all those whispers belonged from his right.. hand.

His fingers were now either in the form of its eyes, hands, and a single foot. Horrified with the view, his mouth hangs agape, hand slightly trembling in fear. He takes the time to scrutinize despite the urge to chop off his hand--gruesome, but the only way to refrain the monster from settling in his body. For a moment, he loses the ability to speak. The creature--his right hand, to be specific, sluggishly gazes at him, mouth also agape with tongue out, uttering poor speech.

“Y..Yu--”

“Who are you?! And who the fuck told you to call me that?!” it’s a bad time to interrogate regarding his name, but touching that sensitive topic has always left his anger triggered. His left hand reaches for a nearby pen by the nightstand, and out of impulse, he lurches forward, tip of the pen about to impale his right hand. There was no time for negotiation, just a mere drive for self-defense. 

The creature didn’t plan to die that quickly. No matter how swift Hanjae’s movements were, its fingers gripped onto the pen and chucked it carelessly across him--the tip impaled on his bed’s headboard right after a quick dodge of his head. Mouth remaining agape, his pulse quickens, swallows thickly and eyes at his horrific hand, elevating it to his sight for an even closer look.

“Talk- teach- me Y-unhyeong.”

It speaks again. He stiffens, breathing heavy as he gathers decent amount of courage to properly retort. At a time like this, who would even dare to speak? Is this even happening or did he accidentally get himself stoned? Quite impossible since he never resorted to marijuana. 

“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU?”

He queries typical questions--just like anyone else would. Fear homes his heart, panic and frustration at the whole ordeal. He wonder how this even happen in the first place--how his hand turned into.. this. But similar to a child who lacks the ability of decent speech, so does his so-called hand lack the control to stay awake. It murmurs a few words, but the last thing he hears is a name that should be forgotten, and the shape of his hand returns to normal.

The morning after, he wakes up with the view of his right hand studying on its own, books and his laptop on his desk, the length of his arm unusually long but he feels no pain at all despite its irregular stretch. He’s about to complain though, mouth open to the brink of utterance until his hand glances back, doe-eyed with lips pursed.

“Gaeul. Call me Gaeul, Yunhyeong.”

Barely even awake, he scoffs. This is absurd--imagine talking to your right hand with a grotesque face--ah, Kim Hanjae has even found the time to malign. Gaeul, Gaeul, Gaeul. Great. Denial will get him nowhere for this is his life now. His life even more unfortunate with a monster whose habitat is his own fucking right hand. 

“It’s Hanjae. And here I thought you were smart.”

[movedtokseiju]

— 한재 :  One black coffee, he requests. Seated at the table by the café’s window, he watches the employees perform their duties. Waiters and waitresses roam around the area to take orders, baristas immersed in making the perfect beverage, and the cashier behind the counter accepting every customer’s payment for their to-go orders. 

He hums softly. It’s a busy day for them, but how they maneuver exudes tranquility. For a minute, he was drowning by minding the workers’ task. This was only a distraction–a very unfitting one, he has to say. Distraction from work and a certain friend. 

Where is she?

He’s gotten used to the times where she accompanies him after her shift. Always concerned about his whereabouts and the reason behind the fresh cuts on his face, his badly bruised lip, bruises on his arm or whatever harm her keen eyes spot on him. He does miss that look in her eyes when she worries about him, when her focus is only him with thoughts perhaps wandering about his untended vigor, or when she just simply looks at him with that same look in her eyes. As if all that’s missing was her to say I want to take care of you. 

But he has his own ego to nurture. They both know he’ll just dismiss the topic and ignore her questions as if they never came out of her mouth. He should have been here when life was becoming unbearable for her–he’s assuming that’s the reason of her departure. He should have been here when she needed a friend or whatever she needed him to be. 

This just had to add up to his pile of work, but she was never an inconvenience to him. He’ll find her. 

[movedtokseiju]

◤APRIL 04, 2017 ---- PARASITE : METAMORPHOSIS ◢

— 한재 : You wouldn’t expect the great Hanjae in a feeble state all due to a severe cold. Body sore, earphones plugged in, handkerchief on his face, eyelids and mouth shut beneath the soft fabric. The heat of his breath blowing against the fabric. He’s enjoying his slumber like anyone would want to.

Amidst of this, an unknown creature slips under his shut window, carefully yet swiftly inching closer to the sleeping Hanjae. The moment it meets his cold skin, his hand instinctively swipes it away, fingernails scratching the area as the creature once again attempts to invade his body. 

The worm-like creature eyes at his ears, and once it realized it couldn’t crawl to his brain through his ears, he opted for a different entrance: the nostrils. It crawls to his face without disturbing his sleep, succeeding for the meantime, but once again disappointed that it won’t be able to get past the nostrils. Desperate for a human host, it leaps to his palm and pierces its way in -- resulting to a sharp pain surrounding his palm, thus jolting Hanjae awake. Feeling a horrible bump inside his wrist, he yelps at the horrifying sight of his palm and wrist: a small hole located on his palm nearby his thumb and the so-called bug quickly climbing upward.

In the state of panic, Hanjae yanks the handkerchief located now on his chest and fumbles with it, clumsily tying a knot around his upper arm to prohibit the insect from climbing any further, loud noises of despair bouncing on each wall of the room as he struggles to tighten the knot around his arm without yielding to the numbing pain.  

“S-Shit!”

“FUCK! FUCK!”

“GET OFF ME!”

Limbs flailing wildly in bed, he falls off, knot now slightly loose. He cries out as he repeatedly smacks his arm, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the shit ass insect would die inside of him. He can take it out through surgery, right? Oh shit. He just had to think of hospitals right now and picture a sultry female surgeon carrying sharp instruments, ready to sever his arm open -- this only adds to his fear. After the horrific minutes filled with squirming, the bump inside his forearm disappears, and with wide eyes, he elevates his arm to his view, inspecting and groaning slightly as his back aches due to the sudden fall. The hole on his palm remains but..

He wasn’t hallucinating, was he? Did the medicine fuck his brain up big time? 

And just like that, after the allegedly delirious moment of panic and fright, he crawls back on the bed -- body languidly falling prostate on the mattress as light snores are eventually emitted, knot slightly loosened around his wrist.

He’ll worry about it tomorrow.

[movedtokseiju]

◤ HERE LIES THE REMAINS OF THE BORN PUPPET ◢

— 한재 : Ueda, Hideji November 11, 1996 - April 10, 2017

He’s acknowledged the boy never thought he was prosperous in life. Just imagine a fragile boy bearing two lives at once just to pay the devil; for a debt that was never even his. A debt mindlessly and callously passed on to him by an elder brother--someone that yielded to death just to escape the devil’s tormenting nature.. The rumors were perhaps once true; that back in the days, Hideji’s elder brother was someone anyone would heed to and admire because he was too great to be true. Even his achievements alone overshadowed Hideji’s existence. But what the public saw in him, the devil never saw. Hiro was weak, too fucking weak to tolerate that the moment he perished, all the devil could think of was the debt. Hiro earned so little that his alleged hard-work was never sufficient to pay him back.

Quite ironic, isn’t it? That money turned into a concern right after Hiro’s death when he never gave a fuck about wealth. He has everything. Perhaps it was merely an act? To make it seem like he does care about something besides his family. They say laughter is the best medicine and laughter has been the product of the devil’s own antics, his own tricks, and delinquency, but behind that facade reveals his ever so monstrous character. Money and wealth are nothing to him. but the devil was that desperate to feel something, and that didn’t even suffice. Why would it? He only cares about something so little, thinking the importance of money rules over life, and what a cruel thing it is for the devil to miss oppressing Hiro. The latter is what he actually missed. And concern for money? A fib, as expected. He was concerned about who could possibly replace Hiro’s torment as his source of enjoyment. 

Until the replacement came.

Hideji was the opposite of Hiro. Hiro was a nuisance and a waste of his time that to this day, he’s still wondering how he grew the conscience to let him borrow money. He never saw anything good in him; even while the boy was working for him he only gave him an extra headache. Hideji was a lesser pain in the ass. There were times mistakes were committed, times when the devil is driven to strangle the weak, little fuck-- but to put it simply, gruesome imaginations often linger inside his head, but Hideji wasn’t useless. Hideji was far from it and his skills were exceptional. His capabilities sufficed for the devil to tolerate him.

The questions are  WHY and HOW the devil KILLED him. 

1.) Let’s start with the WHY

It isn’t hard to feel eyes on you. And the first thing that came into mind was his identity on the line. Nobody knows how cruel he can be except for Hideji, his enemies, and his family, and no one ever had the balls to defy him until Hideji came into his life. Of course the devil understands. Working for the devil is a crime. Slaughtering his own enemies for him while you take the blame and the load of guilt, of course he understands-- Oh, fuck it. Guilt? It’s absurd for the devil to feel such thing. The only times he felt true remorse were disappointing his father and accidentally murdering Jaehyun’s mother while the rest of the unfortunate phenomena still give him no guilt nor shame. And it will always be like this. He’ll always be that callous asshole his pawns and enemies fear.

The devil never completely trusted the puppet. Puppets could turn their backs on the puppeteer and even he’s well aware of that. He went on, however, to the point that counting enemies and imagining their gruesome aftermath had become a hobby. Imaginations easily turn into a beautiful reality the moment you vex him. But something held the puppet back from defying him again. The devil had something that almost everybody wants to protect: family. He keeps an eye on them, watches every move they make as the puppet endures the tremendous horror he faces for one simple mistake could end with a gun aimed at his parents’ head. 

It’s too bad the puppet did turn his back on the devil. Puppets and pawns eventually think they can survive then prosper once broken free from chains, but once you’re wrapped around his finger, there is NO escape. Did Hideji honestly think the devil wouldn’t find out? 

Snitch on the devil like his life isn’t on the line. That’s how he wanted to play the game. Play innocent and wait for the devil to crumble. 

Poor Hideji thinking he could ever outmaneuver him. The devil could never bring himself to feel shame, let alone kneel for forgiveness. There’s always a way out for him, and fortunately for the devil, Hideji was working on his escape task gradually but carefully -- the perfect pace for the devil’s catch.

2. ) The HOW

Oh please. Did he honestly think he’d let the puppet survive again? It wasn’t hard to find out. The significant tremor in Hideji’s voice was already enough. He’s always been terrified of him, but never this terrified. 

It started with a short interrogation. Gently asking if he did anything wrong to disappoint him, and once he heard that dreadful yes of his, it was enough to enrage him, but he conceals this fury. Masks it with a soft smile as he clasps his hands together, his leg over the other as he’s seated on one of the dining chairs. 

“And what did you do?” 

“Don’t be afraid to tell me the truth, Hideji.. You know I don’t like liars..” 

Clicking his tongue, he slips on a pair of leather gloves, glancing at the boy who was still in his spot, feet almost rooted to the ground as his knees slightly tremble -- boy, does he love the sight of fear, and that gentle smile plastered along his calm facade was almost enough to throw Hideji off. Oh and for what are the gloves? You’ll see, but for the meantime, let’s just say that he doesn’t like his hands dirtied.

A few steps forward, the puppet instantly spews the confession and it certainly didn’t take long until the devil’s clothed hands found their way around his throat. The empty apartment filled with half-hearted chuckles and the puppet’s strangled breaths amidst of his squirming, the devil’s smile twisted as ever as he enjoys the sight of the puppet under his oppression. Truly, he expected more from him, but what can the devil do? Puppets will always be puppets. It pains them to be under someone’s power--they always want to be liberated. Puppets and pawns always want to play saints,

and saints DIE.

“Did you honestly think you could hide this from me?”

“You should have told your mommy and daddy too.”

“I’ll find them, Hideji. I’ll find who you fucking told and I’ll kill them.”

The grip around his throat only tightens, throwing the puppet’s body on the floor with a strength of a hundred men as his vice grip arrives to the extent of crushing his throat. Hideji grips on his wrist, nails scratching against the skin, eyes twitching with ajar mouth as he struggles to remove his grip off his poor throat, but he’s helpless -- despite his many attempts, Gaeul’s being made Hideji an easier target. The puppet will thank him someday for giving him an easy death as well, including a special thank you to Gaeul. Gaeul, Gaeul, Gaeul, I can’t wait to fuck up people’s lives with you. 

So here lies the poor boy who was strangled to death. Here lies the poor boy who overwhelmed himself with the knowledge of firearms and hand to hand combat, but quick to die with merely the usage of hands. Here lies the imbecile who thought he could get away from Lee Hanjae. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise. I ended up killing you instead.” his shoulders roll into shrug, sigh exhaled, crouching near his grave before settling the bouquet of orchids by it. “That was fucked up, Hideji. Now nobody’s going to protect your family.” a cackle. Even at a time like this, he had the balls to jest. He respects the dead, but to respect someone who toyed with his trust? Oh, fuck it. Loyalty is what matters to him and if Hideji couldn’t give him that then he’ll get himself a new pawn. 

[movedtokseiju]

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[quotemadness]

We all have a monster within, the difference is in degree, not in kind.

Douglas Preston (via quotemadness)

[hanarichinspiration-blog]

[all] quirks my muse habitually has.

[movedtokseiju]

25x15:

Writers, bold all of your character’s regular truths.

1. Smoking: the action or habit of inhaling and exhaling the smoke of tobacco or a drug. 2. Binge drinking: the consumption of an excessive amount of alcohol in a short period of time. 3. Drug abuse: the habitual taking of illegal drugs. 4. Nail biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 5. Lip biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension. 6. Night Owl: a person who is habitually active or wakeful at night. 7. Early bird: a person who rises, arrives, or acts before the usual or expected time. 8. Negative attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with criticism and pessimism. 9. Positive attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with optimism and confidence. 10. Swearing: the use of offensive language. 11. Superstitious: an irrational belief that an object, action, or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome. 12. Inspecting fingernails: a common body language sign of boredom. 13. Scratching your neck: a common body language sign of uncertainty. 14. Foot and finger tapping: a common body language sign of stress/impatience. 15. Nose touch: a subtle body language sign of deceit. 16. Flipping hair: a common body language sign of craving attention. 17. Twirling hair: a common body language sign of flirtation. 18. Cracking knuckles: a common body language sign of readiness. 19. Hands behind back: a common body language sign of confidence. 20. Finger pointing: a common body language sign of authority. 21. Hands on hips: a common body language sign of readiness. 22: Hands in pockets: a common body language sign of mistrust/reluctance. 23. Frequent touch: a common body language sign of warmth/familiarity. 24. Throat-clearing: a common body language sign of rejection/doubt. 25: Jaw-clenching: a common body language sign of hostility. 26: Eye-rolling: a common body language sign of irritation. 27: Head-tilt: a common body language sign of interest. 28. Whistling: to emit high-pitched sound by forcing breath through a small hole between one’s lips or teeth; usually to a tune. 29. Humming: make a low, steady continuous sound like that of a bee; usually to a tune. 30. Perfectionism: refusal to accept any standard short of perfection. 31. Photographic memory: the ability to remember information or visual images in great detail. 32. Paranoia: a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically worked into an organized system. 33. Exaggeration: a statement that represents something as better or worse than it really is. 34: Intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive. 35: Quick-witted: showing or characterized by an ability to think or respond quickly and effectively. 36: Interrupting: breaking the continuity of a conversation with one’s own statements. 37: Doodling: to scribble or make rough drawings, absent-mindedly. 38: Irritable: having or showing a tendency to be easily annoyed. 39: Gambling: to play games of chance for money; bet. 40: Travel-sick: suffering from nausea caused by the motion of a moving vehicle, boat, or aircraft. 41: Sensitive: having or displaying a quick and delicate appreciation of others’ feelings. 42: Melancholy: a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause. 43: Chewing gum: the exercise of chewing flavoured gum which is not intended for swallowing. 44: Fidgeting: to make small movements, especially of the hands and feet, through nervousness or impatience. 45: Skeptical: not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations. 46: Neat-freak: compulsively obsessed with cleanliness. 47: Gossiping: divulging personal information about others. 48: Prim: feeling or showing disapproval of anything regarded as improper; stiffly correct. 49: Abbreviating: Giving others nicknames/shortening names/giving pet names. 50: Having a catchphrase: having a sentence or phrase typically associated with a specific person.

[movedtokseiju]

resfebr:

He’s as calm as an ocean breeze in a summer evening and she’s a tornado, ready to absorb with furious waves; it makes her seethe, how he is treating it so indifferently, her feelings invalided and completely tossed out the window.Normally, they would argue for a good while, then come to a civil compromise and carry on with individual business; they were far from a domestic couple,never was, never will be. A distant thought that saddened her on rainy days,when she’d savor a cup of hot chocolate by the window, while listening to the sound of pouring droplets. She almost wants him to snarl back, revert to his usually short tempered attitude for it raised questions and doubt regarding his absence.

“And you couldn’t have found the time to text a simple ‘See you next week, month’?”Oh no, Chahee is not having it today. She’s using her fingers to list off everything wrong with this situation, her expression contorted between displeasure and a hint of disappointment and…a pause. She’s grasping at the bouquet and holding it under her nose, admiring the aroma because he always had good tastes and knew what to pick for her, working as a remedy towards her decreased mood. She ends up sighing, her gaze fixed on his, calmer than before,mumbling against a petal. “Sometimes,all I need to know is that you’re okay.”

— 한재 :   “What? And treat you like my mother who died years ago?” Tongue sharp, he briefly hisses. Isn’t that a mother’s job? Pester their children about how their day went,  have themselves informed about their children’s leave, seek the reason behind their absence, and many more? Mothers seek answers, including very little details concerning their children when worry practically cripples them. 

Her clamorous tone is akin to a yapping mother--which is something his mother fortunately never possessed. But this scenario brings him back to the days when his mother would always remind him why she has to be informed: she said she cares. It was never a bother, but he’s gotten used to the life without her (liar), that it’s starting to feel like it is. Why are women so naggy? Only his mother’s an exception.

The flowers got her to shut up at least. Her usual volume is akin to a sweet song, lyrics that could soothe and empty vexation. “And I don’t want you to.” He nearly hisses, but was quick enough to replace it with a smile--looking forced, but with dashing looks, would that be important? This face is entertainment enough. Hands back in his pockets, he trudges away from their proximity, lips formed lopsidedly as he does. Eyes roaming around the spacious room until the bastard spots the unfinished canvas. 

He hums. “Will you ever sell them?”

[movedtokseiju]

resfebr:

any attempts to leave would be futile, warning after warning received, each worsening. she accepts her fate or going between studying and finding time to hang out with her friends, getting drunk to forget her fiance had gone missing for… lord knows how long; the worse was, that no one would answer her questions regarding his sudden disappearance either, aside from plain “be patient”, or he’ll “return.”

so when the door opens, she waves a hand dismissively, thinking it’s one of the maids bringing her a meal. she’s painting the scenery she gets from her window, covered in snow, her canvas surrounding her. she’s able to tell the presence is still there, so she turns her head with a glare, ready to repeat herself verbally, completely taken aback by him – and it angers her, how he can just show up like that, like nothing happened. she rose from her seat and trotted towards him, fingers curled in fists. 

 “how dare you appear like this? where have you been? thought of texting? calling? anything?”

— 한재 :  Today’s a good day and nothing should get in the way to sabotage it. Not even her and how she’s ragingly attacking him with questions. As if he’s held hostage for interrogation–merely over of his lengthy absence. Normally, Hanjae would spare her no explanation regarding his absence–may it be days, weeks, or even months, he just doesn’t bother, and they often lead to fights. But something is very unorthodox this morning considering how he’s still taking this surprisingly well. Perhaps due to the weather? He’s always loved winter or has he gobbled chocolate treats more than he’s supposed to during his flight?   None of those superstitions. He’s just in a good mood. Rare, he knows, but maybe he’s feeling even an ounce of guilt for his unexpected departure. But that doesn’t mean his impolite mouth is leaving the picture. Only droning at her as she practically yaps. “Let me quote Rihanna from one of her famous songs: work, work, work.” there goes Hanjae being unusually chipper. “Just work, work, work. Nothing more, nothing less.” What a liar. “I got you flowers and a bunch of other souvenirs.” Still grasping onto the bouquet behind him, he finally flashes the item before them. That charming smile of his on display as if that would save his ass from her wrath.

[movedtokseiju]

for @resfebr 

— 한재 :  For how long has he been away? Two months? Four? Or maybe six..? It’s just believably far-fetched if his excuse would be ‘two weeks’ for they both know it’s been more than that. Regardless, he’s leaving his life to whatever god there is to save his ass--with a little help from the bouquet of peonies in his hand. Of course he’s not going inside without any present.

Twisting the knob, he discreetly swings the door open. His footsteps light as he eases his way inside before finally shutting the door. He swivels to face her, bouquet held behind his back as he finally faces his fiancé. 

“Good morning to you too.”