I want to know, and yet...

multimuse more like multimess independent & private & organized chaos written by cdra.

[shiritakute]

patchwork.

[shiritakute]

omniroulette [seunghyuk]

It doesn’t get any easier to breathe the more time that passes by, though Seunghyuk knows well that believing it would was nothing more than a subconsciously crafted fallacy. Jaehyun isn’t ─ shouldn’t be ─ intimidating in the slightest, but it’s the closest word to describe the source of the pressure that Seunghyuk feels just by sitting across from him. That feeling that anything he does could be a mistake ─ that he could say something wrong in an instant and turn this awkward atmosphere into a recreation of past, where the pain of walking away, being walked away from was sharp enough to last for weeks (or was it months? it’s hard to remember, he finds) ─ is nothing more than a silent anxiety humming under his skin with each second.

He doesn’t want to mess up again, even if he’s hardly sure that doing any worse could be possible, knowing that they haven’t been ‘fixed’ in the first place despite this meeting. Yet still, being here like this is enough to say something, though Seunghyuk isn’t entirely sure if he should assume what that something might be; he thinks with his heart more than his head in a lot of ways, but he’s trying to tune that out for the time. 

Despite how it’s almost suffocating, there’s still some sense in comfort to be had in just listening to Jaehyun talk again; he’s not really different despite the years, but all that train of thought leads to is Seunghyuk wondering if he’s changed so much, himself. Too much, even. It’s not something he’s sure of, but again ─ is he really sure of anything to begin with?

He, at least, wishes he knew what to say and how to say it instead of leading gaps of silence for Jaehyun to fill. It’s never been as unnerving before as it is now, but that’s just yet another thing that’s so weird about seeing him again. 

To say he’s caught off guard by the focus shifting to him is, lightly speaking, an understatement. Perhaps if they were any other words, it wouldn’t feel so much as though ice cold water had been dumped on him suddenly, even if by ‘suddenly’ he means ‘sooner than expected’. His job is just as sensitive a topic as some hauntings of the past, he thinks, feels ─ and yet it’s practically unavoidable, given its place as centerpiece for all of their problems. 

He wonders if he’ll just be handing Jaehyun a knife to dig further into him with his responses and the information he gives. When the waiter stops by for a brief moment to ask if they’d like something to drink, he thoughtless asks for their day’s special, his thoughts still whirring around worries over what Jaehyun might be expecting from him. 

“It’s… alright,” he finally says, carefully as if he’d struggled to find the right term. Not that saying such would be wrong; how is he supposed to describe how hunting feels as of late to someone else when he himself were uncertain of it? “There’s not a lot that really… goes, I guess. It pays well, and it’s… it keeps people safe.” There’s no hint of comment on his thoughts towards it, if he likes things the way they are or otherwise; he’s almost happy to shift the topic slightly, even if he still internally frets over it being about him.

But that’s where he blanks even more, with much less nervousness; what has he been doing other than work? 

“I… ” The slight feeling of distress twists itself onto his face as he brings his knuckles to his lips, resting his chin partially on against the heel of his palm and staring at the table in thought, brows furrowed. This, of all things, is quite possibly the hardest thing to answer yet. A dark horse of questions that encourage critical thinking. 

“Homestuck ended…” he mumbles under his breath, completely to himself and yet still audible nonetheless. “After that it’s been… what was it again…” 

It takes him a moment, but ─ “I have a dog now?” comes in time. 

It takes an even longer pause before the initial sheepishness returns full force, his gaze shifting down to the table as the makings of an apologetic smile tug slightly at his lips. “Sorry,” he near mumbles in an attempt to mask the hint of flustered emotion; he knows the answer to his rhetorical statement already, but he can’t help but say it anyway. “That’s… not what you were asking, was it?” 

“It’s alright” catches Jaehyun’s attention and “it keeps people safe” makes his gaze sharpen unconsciously---like his pupils could turn to harsh, feline slits and cut a hole through Seunghyuk’s stiff, muddied expression. There is a wall between them and it will remain---it is this which Jaehyun cannot see through, and cannot find it within himself to reach past, either. It’s there for their safety, mutually, he would like to think (though he’s not so sure; he thinks it’s for him who’s bitter and vulnerable and weak underneath his mysterious mask, then thinks it’s more for Seunghyuk whose weakness is written in all the cracks in his expressions and fumbles between his words).

(He’s not sure which of them is weaker, which of them is pretending more---him, full of bluster, or Seunghyuk, painfully balling something up inside.)

Regardless, Jaehyun doesn’t show weakness---he orders a drink in the same deep, velvet voice as he always uses these days, Something with lavender---he won’t admit that he’s nervous, but any of his peers would know from the order alone that he is. Seunghyuk probably wouldn’t, though, so Jaehyun pays it no mind.

He finds himself scratching lightly at the side of his face as the silence ticks by; Seunghyuk wasn’t quite this awkward in the past, was he? A distant memory comes forth and the contrast unsettles him; this isn’t the kind of change he could’ve anticipated. The awkwardness feels heavy, now, and there’s a fleeting feeling of concern that briefly overcomes Jaehyun’s bitterness.

“Homestuck...?” he says quietly, finding it impossible not to have seen the name---and yet not understanding the relevance, The smile that reaches his lips at the mention of Seunghyuk’s dog is genuine, if a bit lopsided with confusion---endeared, more accurately, though Jaehyun is loathe to admit it. Indeed, he instead finds himself pushing the softer expressions down in favor of maintaining his cool---he’s trying to protect himself, but he’s always been soft.

The witch chuckles, shifting to cross his legs---leaning his chin lightly against his fingers. “I'm frankly uncertain of what I was asking,” he says quietly, honestly, “But you having a dog... it seems fitting, somehow.” And yet in the same thought Jaehyun’s heart sinks a bit---there was really nothing else to mention? Or is it possible that Seunghyuk is hiding something, lying? It’s hard to think that possible---Seunghyuk is transparent, in many ways, and Jaehyun has seen him at his worst---but he forcibly reminds himself that there is motivation to do such.

But Seunghyuk is flustered---and Jaehyun remains endeared, even as he tries his best to be cynical.

“Well---I suppose not so much has changed for me, either. I’ve continued my studies---” he tries not to stumble, but something in his tone catches strangely “---the same as ever, though I have recently completed the majority of them... though admittedly, ‘complete’ is a strange word, when study is a life-long process.” Jaehyun exhales a sigh, leaning back; it’s so strange, dodging the key words the same way he always has, but feeling confident enough with the ones he uses. “I’ve been working, as well, in wards and the like, though my specialties seem to lie elsewhere---properly pursuing such things takes time, though I’ve begun developing a clientele in my own way.” He’s rambling again---and unsure of how to stop himself.

For a moment he looks up at the ceiling, stares at one of the avant-garde light fixtures. He can’t just ask “do you hate me” in such simple terms---it’s not right, and besides that, the answer seems strangely obvious, yet hard to believe. (But if Seunghyuk doesn’t hate him, in specific, then does he hate everything supernatural? He says he’s keeping people safe---is he wrong, there? Is that really all?)

“But---I’m certain you don’t wish to hear more about what a witch does with his time,” he says in a tone that almost bites. “Professional and academic matters aside, I’ve been well,” silently, he admits to himself that elaborating beyond that is hard, “though I haven’t added any animal companions to my household, either.” He chuckles, though the joke isn’t really a joke at all; his gaze, curious but not cutting, serves as an invitation for Seunghyuk to continue speaking---about anything, Jaehyun thinks, besides the core tension at hand.

[valtroix]

downfall

[shiritakute]

valtroix [yixing]

There’s something unsettling about the atmosphere in the room, about the silence that fills the space in between the walls; in between them. It’s not comforting, not as it usually would have been and it feels more like a warning – now is your time to go, run.

Yixing doesn’t run and even if he did, then he wouldn’t run away from Jaehwan but to him.

keep reading

There’s no getting used to this, to the destructive and painful sorts of thoughts that weigh him down here at the bottom; and indeed, this is the bottom, the lowest point he reaches and has reached again, or at least it seems like it has to be. He’s been here many times but knowing how to survive isn’t the same as knowing how to cope; his mind blots out the moments he’s almost lashed out at Hojung, too, but he’s reminded and remembers now, stopping just short of breaking another precious thing.

And indeed, merely as consequence to his own brokenness, he has set something into a downward kind of motion -- an accelerated fall into the darkness, until they both hit the ground and shatter.

The shift within Yixing hits him before the physical falling and it knocks the wind out of him -- the impact is jarring but he’s not sure he feels it, his head too fuzzy to properly register if the nature of that sensation is pain. There’s a blur over the room, an overlay comprised of other scenes, and he’s tense to the point that motion is impossible; Yixing is touching him but he can’t feel it, not as what it should be, just the same as it’s difficult to tell just who this person on top of him is.

It’s a bit difficult to say who he is.

The overlay is faded and indistinct but he sees it -- the first man he learned to hate, that metal monstrosity that he can feel the scars on his chest from again as fingers press into them, the reporter, the haunted house, smoke and fire, tacky wallpaper, it’s all a blur.

He doesn’t like any of it.

There’s a blankness in his eyes and he doesn’t look at the person on top of him, lost somewhere -- he doesn’t like being touched and he’s sick and tired of being positioned as the victim. Is that why he instead motioned to become the monster? It doesn’t really make sense -- why would he do that, the question echoes loud through the rubble between them, and he doesn’t have any answer. He doesn’t know.

They’re like two scattered jigsaw puzzles, pieces mixed and indistinguishable from each other because the pictures painted on both of them are ones of despair, dark colors, broken people. That moment of collapse was his fault, as he is the one who can’t remain stitched together for any length of time; his thoughts quiet to a hum and his eyes finally turn back toward Yixing.

Yixing is there, the same as he always is, consuming his thoughts, pulling Jaehwan back to a single place in time.

But everything still feels strange, even if he’s avoided falling entirely into some other place -- this place is still unbearable in its own way. He’s pinned down but his perspective is still mixed in with Yixing’s; Yixing’s touch burns but there’s a part of him that wouldn’t pull away from it, selfish and stupid. There’s a part of him that thinks his bizarre blue looks nice in Yixing’s eyes and another that can’t stand the sight -- he doesn’t look at it often, the way his own eyes change, and it’s unsettling to see it on someone else.

It takes a moment for everything to seem to set in, but even then, his expression is strangely dead; he reaches up and gently cups Yixing’s cheek in his fingers. It’s not that he wants to give in, either -- it’s just that he doesn’t feel like there’s a choice. He doesn’t want to give up on Yixing and on this but he doesn’t want to hurt him -- and yet he knows he can, he knows there’s something deeply threatening dwelling in the void at the bottom of his mind and Yixing is too close to it not to be torn apart by it in due time.

It’s the idea that this “isn’t like him” that finally makes a disingenuous smile crack across Jaehwan’s lips along with a tiny, dry laugh -- is this not like him? What is like him? What’s he really like? Does Yixing know more about him than he does himself? Is he really strong -- can that possibly be true, even, for someone who only knows how to fall apart in a hundred new and inventive ways?

There are still images of grips hard enough to bruise and of drifting smoke and driving blades hovering in his mind -- these aren’t Yixing’s memories, but his own, fragments of the times he’s fallen before, and he stares into the other’s eyes now with a bizarre intensity.

“Help me?” Jaehwan’s voice cracks as he speaks weakly, expression painfully neutral; what would it take, truly, to help him? Yixing could stitch him up in an unnatural fashion, use his power to do it, but would it even work -- and at what cost? Yixing would have to become as broken as he is, and he isn’t accustomed to surviving it the way that Jaehwan is -- and even if it could be done, if it could be survived, what would stop him from sliding right back down to such a state?

(It would already be far too easy to see Yixing broken -- perhaps if it happened, he’d understand the gravity of his words now, but Jaehwan doesn’t want that, either.)

His eyes narrow in the slightest; it’s strange how quiet everything feels now. This is the eye of the storm, he realizes; a moment of silence, but lurking just outside of this precious moment is a disaster that can’t be foretold. A bit of strength finally returns to his voice when he parts his lips to speak.

“You can’t fix me.”

Jaehwan’s fingers drift down, following the curve of Yixing’s jaw tenderly -- only to fist in the collar of his shirt in order to let Jaehwan sit up, still with Yixing’s legs astride his hips. The nature of the position doesn’t quite register with him -- it just feels vile, he thinks as he pulls their faces close together for just a second.

“Unless you want to -- end up the same way that I am,” he whispers, expression unshifting and stern; everything about this hurts but he’s shut it all off, both input and output. “You can’t.”

He lets go of Yixing and flinches back in the same motion, suddenly breathing hard through his mouth as though he’s been burned -- sensation registering again in his nerves, making him grab at the collar of his own shirt. He’s still trapped and the feeling of it hits him hard enough to bruise; the urge to run and hide is what makes him instead push Yixing back forcefully, desperate to escape the disgusting feeling that claws at him from having someone pin him down.

There is a memory there, echoing through his thoughts -- the first in the series of fractures -- and he covers his eyes with his palms as though that’ll keep it at bay, gasping for air amid the drowning sensation of panic.

[shiritakute]

patchwork.

[shiritakute]

omniroulette [seunghyuk]

He’s just as awful at reunions as he is at partings. 

There’s some sense of comfort to be taken in the thought that he would’ve been better prepared from the start had he known who he’d be running into, but that’d be just as much of a fabrication as saying that he wasn’t a collection of too many nerves in too little space – Seunghyuk could’ve been forewarned weeks, months in advanced and still nothing would’ve readied him for running into Jaehyun in such a way. Nothing would’ve (nor could’ve) prepared him for this, either; the fact that they’re meeting in a more intimate way despite it being not quite that (maybe that’s why he can’t seem to sit still). 

The fact that Jaehyun would want this is truly what’s causing it; there’s been notions in his head that would only hiss the opposite in the times that thoughts would ever consider otherwise, and he’d believed in them so easily that it’d practically become truth. Given the way that rift formed between them to begin with, however – he’s not sure if he could be blamed for such an outlook, much less be faulted for the disbelief that’d almost flipped his stomach. 

It’s not every day that someone who you’ve been so sure hates you would suggest a meet-up, after all. 

He’s not sure what to call the feeling that’s coiled up around him, squeezing tighter with each second – but he does feel it simultaneously release and grow near suffocating when the door to the cafe opens and his eyes, anxious and curious as they are, land on the figure that even on second look is just as familiar as it is that of a stranger’s.  

(Thinking of Jaehyun as such leaves a sour taste on his tongue; he regrets having not ordered something so that he could try washing it down.)

It’s all he can do to steel himself into some casual air, near-forced but hopefully not obvious on sight – he wills his hands to stop idly rubbing at his thighs before they have the chance to betray him entirely, though he’s distantly certain that the way he folds them in his lap makes his nervousness more palpable than not. By the time that Jaehyun’s already come close enough to place the two papers together, Seunghyuk’s gone through at least ten different ways to settle himself; he’s not sure if any of them work better than the one he finally gives in on, but he can only hope that this ends the course of all his fidgeting.

(He breaks that almost immediately as Jaehyun sighs – no, when he smiles even in that slight way; his hands settle on the cushions of the space beside him, and there they finally stay, though he finds it hard to be relaxed, still.)

It hasn’t been that long, he thinks, though truth be told, he doesn’t have too much of an idea. 

I know, he agrees; their perspectives were surely different but the outcome likely gave the same sort of feeling – it was too awkward, too tense, too forced. Even trying to speak as he should back then felt too wrong. He wonders if it’d be held against him all the same.

(He’d do well to find his voice, but it catches before it can start when Jaehyun looks up; for all he’d been staring, Seunghyuk startles a bit, as though he’d been caught doing something strange.)

It’s only due to being caught off guard that he clears his throat of nothing more than a slightly flustered awkwardness, nodding slightly when he finally speaks up; it’s lacking every hint of whatever professional pretense it’d held, instead sounding more like him even through the nerves.

“Y-You too,” is what he finally manages, though the idle thought to answer with really? is so close to leaving his tongue that the sense of uncertain confusion flashes for a moment before he finally averts his gaze to the table between them. “Look good, I mean.”

Somehow, this feels something similar to what he thinks an interview might; the comparison has him gnaw at the inside of his cheek – it’s yet another one of those things that feel so wrong to think (he’s known Jaehyun for much longer than the time they’ve spent apart – he’s still Jaehyun) and yet it’s the only description that seems close.

(There are things he should’ve said, should’ve asked, should’ve noticed back then that he knows now, but they’re much too out of place; he’s not sure if they have any place being said after all this time, but simply knowing them is enough to leave him at more of a loss than ever.)

He clears his throat a little again. It’s still as needless as before.

“It’s – I’m… glad to see you,” he says, wondering how long he can get away with looking at Jaehyun’s collar instead of trying to see what his expression might be (or shift into). “It’s been… a while–” so it’s a bit strange; he leaves that subconsciously added part out, though he’s more than aware that he probably sounds stupid, being obvious like that. “–so I’m – it’s nice.”

The tension in the air is, to use yet another cliche, palpable; Jaehyun is particularly attuned to such things, the way the emotions pulling at his chest tend to also pull at the threads of magic around him, buzzing nervously as though overcharged, but sure to exhaust themselves quickly. Everything about this is awkward, to use a simpler phrasing: Seunghyuk, and Jaehyun too, the years between them, the things left unsaid, the questions unanswered, the reasons unexplained.

In a way, it feels as though they’re children again -- though in a way more uncomfortable than not.

Because it’s nostalgic, yes, but everything is different -- added information that caused them to break apart from each other (though more accurately, Jaehyun did most of the breaking, there), missing information from passed time that’s surely left its mark. Getting past the strangeness, Jaehyun realizes that he can sense a bit of magic on Seunghyuk, too -- the kind hunters surely need to do their jobs, he thinks, which might be why it feels a bit resentful, if that comparison makes any sense for something that isn’t truly sentient. Bitter, a bit acrid -- rough to the touch.

Jaehyun relaxes into his seat, smirking slightly -- he thinks he’s doing alright, though he can’t be sure if Seunghyuk is just saying that or truly feels it. He wouldn’t acknowledge it, but he made some certain effort to look nice -- one or two more pieces of jewelry than usual, one of his favorite long, dark jackets (he owns too many) -- perhaps it’s a matter of confidence.

“Myself as well,” he says quietly, settling his hands in front of him on the table -- it’s hard to know what to say, especially for someone so prone to overthinking as Jaehyun is. “I’m glad. That you waited for me, that is. I wasn’t so certain of what would occur as a result of my actions, but I -- am pleased by this outcome, so.” The smile on his lips is a bit bitter, still, but no less pleased, indeed -- even if he feels uncertain, Jaehyun is still capable of generating far too many words about the subject, it seems.

He gives another sigh, a bit lighter, as his gaze drops and he searches for what it is he wants to say -- what he needs to say, really. “Truthfully, I’d had a strange feeling all day, today. Even so, I was surprised to find just what it was that’d had my energy so keyed up -- mine is a rather useless sort of precognition, honestly.” It’s meant to be a bit of a joke but Jaehyun isn’t really a humorous person -- though he still seems a bit amused, somehow, even though he’s just rambling to hide his nerves.

(He wants to understand it, though in part he already does know why Seunghyuk turned to hunting -- he wants to know if he hates him, still, though part of that question seems to have been answered. He wants to know what he’s missed and if they can be friends again -- or if there’s too much animosity between them, as individuals or as parts of a whole.)

(He knows that in part he is still bitter, himself, that it’s hard for him to forgive easily -- but Jaehyun misses him, too. Perhaps he’d like to resolve his own bitterness, then -- though he’s wary about doing so, still dimly wondering if Seunghyuk has no ulterior motive.)

His eyes finally fall back to Seunghyuk as he gathers his will. “You’re still hunting,” he comments lowly, “I presume it’s treating you well, then? I would -- like to know how things have gone for you, as of late. In general, that is.” Perhaps it’s that lack of trust, but Jaehyun can’t bring himself to directly address the things he wants to know -- but perhaps they can be reached nonetheless, indirectly.

[shiritakute]

bathed-in-red replied to your post: !

/It never hurts to try!

trying to reconnect to the indie world is really awkward for me right now because I’ve been out of it for so long?? ;n; I don’t remember how to plot for indie interactions and it makes things weird... and talking to people in general is just awkward so i’m /lays on the ground very flat

[shiritakute]

!

[shiritakute]

[shiritakute]

specifically like I love xerxes but have all the same dislike for Most of the ph community as I’ve always had; i met a few great people there but otherwise god there were so many people there that I don’t want to get near with a 20 foot pole at this point

and yes i am very much an elitist dickwad and my issues are mostly non-personal (aside the one. the one issue is personal and the largest source of salt. and that one rper hasn’t gone anywhere and likely never fucking will)

I’d love to play him actively again but ugh being a canon and trying to get cross-fandom or oc interactions is a real chore

and like I wanted to get into the pokemon community but yet again I come at things from such a different angle that it all felt really Meh to me and I didn’t really enjoy most of the like collective community headcanons people were running by. twewy fandom was very similar in that feeling. like people expect a different (ie much softer and more watered-down for fluff) interpretation of the characters and are adverse to the way I do them

but mostly I’m an asshole and I just want to interact with lovely well-developed characters rather than having to deal with lots of one-liners and lack of development and nonsensical ships and shit I really don’t like it

and oc indie has always been way too damn hard like how do you even start finding people to interact with and building relationships when you’re trying to stretch across worlds to do so ????? it’s a lot of work and I’m really not sure I’m up to something like that

don’t even get me started about trying to touch krp indie i kind of want to stay away from that with with a 50 foot pole despite indeed being an asshole who will probably constantly use kpop fcs

/throws hands up

[shiritakute]

[shiritakute]

[shiritakute]

patchwork.

@omniroulette

There is a whirlwind of thoughts in Jaehyun’s mind, a storm of overlapping emotions and words and phrases -- all of them feel cliched, painfully so, but none of them can stay still long enough for him to really be sure that they’re what he wants to say.

Fate is a strange mistress, Jaehyun knows this well; he is attuned to her whims, if loosely, and so he feels like he knows her, even if she is truly unknowable. Perhaps this is the end of what he knows, and the most important part, as well. He could feel something strange in the air when he woke up this morning, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and his head light, goosebumps crawling over his skin whenever he stopped paying attention to it.

This kind of “precognition” is completely useless, he thinks; he may have been on edge all day, but no matter how on edge he was, he could not have truly been prepared to see Seunghyuk again like this.

And so follows an awkward exchange, stiff words and stiffer stances -- a moment where he has to pretend that their interaction is far simpler than it is, just hunter and witch, not -- whatever they are, for which even Jaehyun struggles to find words. Old friends with venom now between them, something a bit more than that -- two people tied together by Fate’s whims, unable to be torn apart despite the resentment and bitterness that’s surely not unique to Jaehyun, here, set deep within his heart as it is -- but the bitterness is one tinted with longing and sadness, he knows that as well, that he couldn’t truly bring himself to hate Seunghyuk even if he chose to bear a dagger at Jaehyun’s throat.

(Does it make sense to think of that as unlikely? Or is Jaehyun still just naive?)

A simple tracker spell -- some call it “marco-polo” because, indeed, the two tags respond to one another when called. It’s a subtle thing, enough so that Jaehyun had some confidence Seunghyuk wouldn’t run into trouble for taking it from him -- he doesn’t know how strict hunters are with their own for carrying around outside magic, but he chooses to take no risks other than the obvious: Seunghyuk will have to hold onto the bit of sigil-scrawled and briefly instructional (“wait for me somewhere quiet, I’ll come to you”) paper that Jaehyun gave him.

In a way, whether he does or not will answer part of Jaehyun’s question -- but only a part.

It’s a bit of a relief, then, that when called for, the partner to the humming spell between his fingers guides him to a cafe in central -- an inconspicuous place for either of them to be, much as it makes Jaehyun hyper-aware of how little time he spends in the central district these days as he walks there. The skyscrapers are unfamiliar and the energy around him seems distracted, hot -- human in every way, but to such an extent that it overloads itself and Jaehyun can’t feel which way is up.

Regardless, he tries not to focus on that -- there are already too many things to focus on, here, including the way his heart skips a beat or two when he finally does catch sight of Seunghyuk. Jaehyun’s steps pause for a second, but he catches himself and closes the rest of the distance between them soon enough -- drops the paper he’d been holding onto the matching one on the table to watch them both fizzle out, reunited. How metaphorical.

The witch breathes a long sigh of relief, a small smile coming to his lips. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting terribly long,” he says a bit lamely, unable to look Seunghyuk in the eye; at least he can keep up his tone despite that. “Our earlier circumstances were -- uncomfortable, so I had hoped to wait long enough that things would shift by a reasonable margin.” Jaehyun settles himself into the seat opposite the hunter, eyes downcast still. “As a chance to talk to you properly, without interference, would be preferable to -- that.” Professionalism, hostility, pretending -- Jaehyun leaves the descriptors out, uncharacteristically enough, but they are implied well enough, he feels.

Finally, as if it almost pains him, he turns his gaze upward to look at Seunghyuk -- properly taking in, for a second, all the ways that he’s different and all the ways he’s the same, obviously filled out now rather than a collection of awkward limbs that’d grown too tall too fast, and yet -- something about him is so much the same that it almost would put Jaehyun at ease, were he not so on edge for it.

“You seem to have been well.”

[valtroix]

downfall

[shiritakute]

valtroix

The pressing feeling on his chest and shoulders doesn’t get as bad as when Yixing is in Jaehwan’s direct presence. This feeling, much similar to being suffocated, isn’t unknown to him – he knows it all too well, what it feels like to be entirely overwhelmed; to feel as if you are drowning, even when there isn’t a single droplet of water in sight.

To call the sight of Jaehwan heartbreaking feels like a misunderstanding and yet, words don’t do one justice when it comes to feeling things to such an intensity. This connection that the two of them share remains strong, regardless of the time spent away – there is always a subconscious knowledge over one another, even though it’s felt differently on both ends. Yixing doesn’t deny that his senses are less acute in that regard, when compared to those of Jaehwan, but he takes things as they are; after all, he would much rather know as much as he can about the other, so he can figure a way to reach out.

That is exactly what he does. 

...

It’s impossible to process anything. It’s too much, not enough to actually latch onto, everywhere, nowhere, heavy, dissipating like steam -- disorienting seems to be the only constant, a simple word with too many implications and variations to really be as singular as it sounds. Jaehwan has broken before, more times than he could count by now; he is a person made up of fragments, splinters of himself mixed with foreign debris, impossible to truly reform to whatever shape he could’ve had before the process of breaking began.

And yet Yixing is there, he’s there -- Jaehwan can feel him, and yet, everything about that feeling seems somehow wrong.

He knows -- that’s the end of what Jaehwan can truly hear, that he knows what’s happened and it’s weighing him down the same way that it’s threatening to rip Jaehwan apart from the inside. Yixing is soft; something is broken in him, too, but that is soft as well, something buried and weak beneath where he tries to be strong, parts missing from the foundation of his spirit. He isn’t made of shards and splinters the way Jaehwan is, painful and cutting edges barely glued together -- he isn’t insane the way Jaehwan is sure that he has to be by now, just a little broken, a little damaged.

(It would take so little to change that -- just a tap, really.)

In some desperate attempt to ground himself Jaehwan lets his mind open -- or perhaps part of it is unintentional, responding to the panic that sparks through Yixing as well, making him recoil and curl in on himself tightly. They both know -- they were both there, together, Jaehwan in two places at once or perhaps just nowhere in particular -- the memories are ones shared, the pain and fear and anxiety of it all, and Jaehwan is frozen by them, too.

He leans forward on some foreign sense of autopilot, one hand bracing against the floor as he shifts to his shaky knees -- this isn’t his own body and this isn’t his own room, but he couldn’t say whose it is. Telltale blue stains his eyes and his gaze can’t seem to settle anywhere, even though he’s staring at the floor so hard he seems to be able to see through it; thoughts spark through his mind like electricity on shorn wires, too hot and dangerous, and he breathes, each inhale long and shaky for each exhale too short and harsh.

He wants to say it’ll be okay -- he wants to reassure Yixing that there’s nothing to be scared of, but he doesn’t believe it even for a second. He’s terrified of what will come, of the voices he can still hear chattering despite how he tries to sink his senses into Yixing’s -- he’s terrified of himself, of how he doesn’t feel like himself at all.

He knows something is wrong with him because he reaches out to card his fingers through the elder’s hair instead.

Jaehwan’s expression is indeterminate, blank as his mind feels yet tinted with concern -- the sensation of touch burns and yet he doesn’t flinch, letting his fingers rest lightly on Yixing’s head. His breathing becomes shallower, more quiet, though still uneasy; a feeling of emptiness seizes him in place of the sensation of being overfilled, a quietness that’s too wrong to be comforting falling over his thoughts.

The stillness lasts a few seconds too long, but Jaehwan’s shoulders slump slightly as his fingers slip down and settle on Yixing’s shoulder instead; he looks down at the space between them, his head full of the sound of his own breathing. “I don’t know,” he admits in a mumble, words slow and off-key, “I don’t know either.” For him, who’s always been so strange and uncanny -- for Hongbin, who’s left the foundation’s safety -- for Wonshik, whose appearance stands out even among others like him -- for Yixing, who seems like he could blend in so easily, but is still here for a reason. Jaehwan wonders just what that reason is -- but he knows it has to do with the ways that Yixing is broken, too, not as strong as he seems, not as perfect as Jaehwan’s prone to imagining him to be.

They’re all a little weird, a little warped -- Jaehwan easily the most so, if not the most visibly so. Maybe that’s why he felt like he could be comfortable around these people, in this place -- but at this moment he’s not sure he feels anything at all, more empty than numb. He sort of thinks this is it, the answer to a question he’s been wondering on for too long -- if he breaks too many times, if everything is stripped away, who would he be?

Empty.

The torrent of thoughts has been bottlenecked to a steady drip instead, the sound of each drop falling echoing loud enough that it might as well be an earthquake. He’s here but he’s not here, disconnected, off -- there are the memories of that place, the urge to protect and the urge to harm -- memories of that man who tried torturing him only to end up with his mind split -- it’s too much and no one gets it, no one understands, for all the understanding he can do of someone else. It’s almost laughable -- how could anyone understand a person filled with parts that aren’t their own?

He feels hands around his neck -- but are they his hands? Is it his neck? (It’s only the former, but he can’t tell.)

“Why?” he rasps, like he can’t quite breathe; “W-why do they have to know -- why did they do that? I j--just---” words aren’t forming right, distracted and disjointed, “---I’m so t-tired of -- hiding, of running -- and now -- this.” There’s sincerity in his hysteria, a truth to the words that don’t feel like they’re coming from his own throat -- not when there’s a faint pressure there making it harder and harder still to speak. Inside his head the drip-drop echoes something about how he’ll kill them if he has to, how scared he is, how he just wants to be safe; “E-eyes are on us,” he manages, almost sensibly, “o-on the foundation, ever s-since -- last year,” fire in the city, stinging cuts in his flesh, a woman he didn’t manage to save, Im Jinah’s sneering face, that reporter again, “I d-don’t know -- if I c-can take this.”

(The ringleader’s laughter reminds him again that it’d be easier to just give in.)

[valtroix]

downfall

@shiritakute !

Unsuspecting of the events that are to occur later on during the day, Yixing heads out of Daybreak’s grounds and follows the usual route towards his work-place. Nothing seems out of the ordinary and, ultimately, why would anything mundane feel any different from what it normally is? There is no reason for that, not unless the subject in mention breaks from the paradigm of what society deems to be regular.

The hours pass with relative ease and as noon starts to roll in, there is a clear shift in the atmosphere within the restaurant. Both the staff and those present inside to serve a meal or have a chat over a cup of coffee halt from their doings, falling silent as their attention gets drawn to the television mounted up on the wall. The regular program was interrupted by urgent news, accompanied not only by information given but also by footage leaked by an unknown person in regards of the events from the night of Halloween.

Keep reading

[shiritakute]

Everything is falling apart; there is no longer any avoiding that.

Jaehwan’s curse is seeing things too clearly, standing front and center even when all he wants is to run and hide; again and again this pattern has manifested in different ways, but the worst of them is the obvious, is the one he’s suffering from now.

Emotions run high all around him and it’s stifling; he can feel it as though it’s circling around his neck, sinking claws into his lungs. He wishes he wouldn’t have gotten out of bed today so that he wouldn’t have to see a thing, wouldn’t have to know -- that’s the kind of logic by which he operates, flawed and fruitless as it is. But instead he’s here, back pressed against a wall as all he wishes is that he could get away -- but the voices are everywhere and it’s loud, much too loud, and he’s frozen.

It’s one mind, then another, but they all say the same thing: panic, panic, what the hell is going on here?

He remembers it, he knows the answer to that; it isn’t as though he can make out a lot of faces on the grungy security footage plastered huge over ever screen, but he recognizes forms, powers. He recognizes a huge pair of wings spreading from a man’s back, bone spikes protruding from another and into some hulking monstrosity; he recognizes the blood, the gore, the absolute horror of that place, everything he’s been trying so hard to forget for weeks now, months, it’s all coming back at once, stream-of-conscious, fragmented. It’s meant to shock and horrify just as it was then and he knows, he knows -- he saw that out of too many eyes, too.

Blunt nails drag down his arms to leave angry red lines, a desperate attempt at grabbing for sanity -- everything is too much all over again, just as it always seems to be. Someone’s thoughts are echoing about monsters, freaks, and someone is shouting -- Jaehwan lets his mind go blank and runs, praying that the one stable place he knows is still standing, fearing that somehow in the wake of this, it’ll be burned to the ground.

If it were, what would be left of him?

But the foundation is still standing, mysterious and familiar at once; from the outside eye he realizes how strange it looks, and more than that -- “such strange things are all around you” -- the knowledge that with what’s been revealed, Daybreak will come under scrutiny, and will they be able to just brush this one away like they did the incident last year? That distrust in people’s eyes, that doubtful sentiment, he’s blind to it less than anyone else. That reporter and all his devices, the things he knew, the things he said -- that he’d expose this freakshow for what it was -- that even the one home Jay’d come to trust before this had used him, made him this way -- Jaehwan’s barely inside his dorm room with the door closed before the strain of it all has him collapsing to his knees.

Overthinking is a spiral, inevitable; there’s nothing here to say that it’ll all be fine, and he wouldn’t believe it even if there was. They’re far away now but he can hear them, the rioters, the people yelling and panicking and scrambling for answers -- he can feel them, despite the distance, too hyper-aware not to still find his mind wandering to other connections, and each new psyche he touches feels like it’s tearing a hole in his own, corrosive and acidic.

He startles at the sound of knocking, more like banging, on his door -- everything feels like it’s spinning, like the voice that’s only a few feet away and behind a thin barrier of wood is truthfully miles away and underwater -- or perhaps Jay’s the one who’s underwater, but it doesn’t change that he can’t hear it. Despite that, somehow, he knows who’s speaking.

Jaehwan curls in more tightly on himself -- his throat is too tight to call out for Yixing to leave, and even if it weren’t, he’s not sure he could speak loud enough to be heard underwater. But Yixing is persistent in the best of ways -- how long as he been here, how long has Yixing been there? There are no answers to those questions; time hasn’t been real for weeks.

The sound of the outer door opening jars him more than anything, a shudder consuming his body as he realizes it -- of course he hadn’t locked the door, that was the last thing on his mind like this, wasn’t it? Jaehwan can’t breathe, the air’s too thick, his throat’s too thin -- nothing’s quite right -- his body’s pressed back against his bedroom wall but he’s floating, suspended, and he can’t seem to find the way to root back to the world around him.

But Yixing is there, a comfort that still makes fear claw its way into Jaehwan’s chest -- his eyes are wide but they aren’t there, even as he tries to focus on Yixing, terrifically and terribly present as he is. Breathe, inhale, exhale -- Jaehwan tries to remind himself, tries to anchor himself by way of the person standing before him, but it’s hard, harder than it’s ever been in the face of everything coming out from under him one brick at a time.

“---Yixing,” he finally manages, voice choked, “I know, I’m not -- I can’t --” tell him to stay, tell him to leave -- neither feels right, he wants both more than he can possibly put to words like this. “You’re here, why...?” he mumbles, but even he doesn’t know what he means by that.

[shiritakute]

[shiritakute]

              i have a silly amount of muse but it’s fucking finals week and and i’m trying to finish up my directory and why do things happen so many

[shiritakute]

Xorxosees BOROOOKE

              “This, somehow, is an official sign that we’re back in business, isn’t it?” How distressing.

[shiritakute]

things that I need to do:

fix muse pages (I know there are errors on some,, nothing too major)

add jaehwan to the front page because oops

maybe add some lazy new bios rather than just linking out to old blog bios

fucking find alternate fcs for kids, somehow

actually sTART THREADS

[shiritakute]

trying to pick animated fcs for my LA kids is as just as incredibly difficult as the reverse