#jixsn

[harukhi-blog]

jixsn replied to your post “Things can get ugly, but we're still a team.”

( I'M NOT CRYING UR CRYING but seriously this is so pretty and lovely ;;;;;;;;;;; i will reply to this asap!!!

COMING FROM YOU but omg thank you i’m really glad you like this reply, take your time! i’m excited to write with you!!

[reverieo]

“Sometimes, violence is necessary. Violence changes things.” 

“Are you alright, Jiyong? You seem out of it today.” 

You should have died instead, I should have lived. It’s almost like it’s your own blood on your hands, isn’t it? Are you happy, Jiyong? I thought we would be together till the end, two halves together only whole when together. That’s what you said – It’s almost like it’s your own blood on your hands, isn’t it? Don’t miss me, move on. It’s almost like it’s your own blood on your hands isn’t it? It’s lonely here without you. It’s almost like it’s your own blood on your hands isn’t it? I miss you, so much more than I can bare, Jiyong. But you… you, ah.

Do you miss me? 

SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT THE FUCK UP –  

“Jiyong, are you okay?” No. Too many voices in my head.

No, that was the wrong way to describe his mental cell. There were only two voices residing there. The first, whom only chanted one and only one sentence. And the second, such a familiar voice he knew so well that whispered one thing, then changed masks to shout another. Multiple different facades and he was losing himself trying to listen for which one was truly her.  It was a voice that was fading out by the second and he longed to hold onto for longer. But instead it slipped between his fingers, like loose strands of gray hair. But he needed to capture it, her voice. That was all he had left. He needed to save it, some how, trap it more than in the confinements of his head. He was losing her too quickly. Time was not a comrade. Comrade? What battle was he fighting? Whomever the enemy was, he was losing. Wounded. Bleeding? Internally. Or maybe this was just a psychological game. Only the worst warfare of them all. 

He was going insane.

Too many fucking voices in his head yet he couldn’t find his own amongst it.

She sees them before he feels them. The next time he grasps any sense of reality is when her fingers brush over his arms, tracing along the outer bits until they arrived by his palms. And then she would trace his palm lines, one by one, ever so patient and slowly. Her final act would be to place their hands together, clasping her fingers over his own. He only realized he was in tears when his vision was blurry as he tried so hard to gaze upon that face of hers. No words are allowed to leave him but his hands sign to her. 

There’s violence in my head, and it won’t stop.

She watches him make out the words with his hands, and he sees the pity glossing over her eyes. “Sometimes, violence is necessary. Violence changes things… It’s… it’s not alright, obviously.” She seems to regret her own words all of a sudden before she continues again. “I don’t think anything will be the same for any of us… but can you please, at least try to tell me, just what is going on inside that head of yours?” She pauses. He can see the way she contemplates. It’s written over the way her lips purse, tightly too as they close until they speak with that wondrous voice of hers again. “Or… not tell, but show me.” For a moment, it’s him who contemplates. It’s written in the way his eyes close, shut tight until wrinkles formulate along his forehead. 

“Show me.”

The scene shifts immediately, and he doesn’t quite remember when he’s ever agreed to what is happening – but it all happens too quick, and he’s got her hand in his own the next time he breathes out. It’s hard to show her the monsters in his head, because – they are only mere projections, and what he believes is that the true monster lurks beneath his own skin. It’s even harder because she only smiles, as if he cannot feel the way her every step shakes against the solid cement they walk upon. He doesn’t blame her for her fearing, his dreams weren’t exactly a child’s fantasy.

The charcoal cement beneath almost melts into tile as they continue. Suddenly there’s a glow, some sort of light and then one realizes they had been in the darkness the whole time. And then the air hits them – it’s warm, ventilated, kept and trapped. Then walls come up soon after, and the house builds around them, above them. They still are walking as the house constructs itself all around, and when Jiyong ceases in his next stop, sudden the ground beneath them has been brought up. They stop and soon they stand upon the second floor of a miniature house. He tenses, because he feels her anger in bringing someone else into their home.

The wall besides him is splattered with red, marked with an H. As they walk past, his steps quicken but they are not quick enough. The walls almost seem to cave in on the both of them as they whisper – it’s almost like it’s your own blood on your hands, isn’t it? His hand tightens on Aria’s, and he stops again once a door appears down the hall.

“Let me out. Let me out… LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT – JIYONG, LET ME OUT!” 

The door shakes in fear. The ground beneath them trembles with it too. He hears the lights on the ceiling buzz, not in excitement but in complete frantic anticipation. But he remains firm in his stance, looking over at Aria. It’s pain stricken, but he smiles. Apologetic, maybe. Before he can say anything else, the door frame succumbs to the pounding and the air around them becomes cold. His hand slips from Aria’s and he can no longer hide the way it vibrates in the journey to the door handle. It turns, unlocks – the door screams.

She comes ready, bursting from the door and he only watches as a knife plunges through Aria’s stomach. She falls to the ground on her knees and he feels the other female tug him towards the door, inside. He wants to help Aria and he can only watch through the punctured gape of how she bleeds on the floor of the house. The walls cry for her. He disappears behind the door with Hayong. 

He regrets opening doors to her in the first place.

[harukhi-blog]

"Things can get ugly, but we're still a team."

➢ random lyrics starter • accepting :: ‘Things can get ugly, but we’re still a team.’

Inception. She never thought something of this nature would be possible. How would one build another world in someone’s dream, making it seem like a reality when it all depended on one’s subconscious? The subject seemed confusing to her at first as it was all explained, yet for this case, she really needed to go inside her target’s mind, or everything that she has planned for this case of identity theft would go to waste, nothing would work -- and she could possibly get herself in trouble for it. 

target #04 ➸ cho jiwon 

And so, Haru decided that the only way to succeed in this task was to team up with the girl who knew her way around inception, one of the finest maze-maker around. Of course, the process the both of them had to go through wouldn’t be smooth as silk, Haru as someone who has never heard of this subject before, she kept messing things up, not grasping the idea of this whole situation. Tries after tries, she sat up from the chair that leaned back for her to get comfortable, head in her hands with her body trembling, her breath hitched as if she was pulled back into reality after so many poor attempts at mastering inception, or creating another world inside a dream. 

“I keep fucking up. I can’t do this I- I can’t control someone’s dream. I can’t... do this I don’t understand. Shit, I’m going to fail at this. Aria--”

With her voice trailing off, she looked up at the female, listening to the words she said calmly to soothe her nerves, as if she knew she wanted to hear those words. All along, she had been alone. Working alone. Hanging out alone. She’s always been a lone wolf, but maybe, maybe she could gain a life long partner from this case. 

“Let’s start again? I’ll try better, I promise.”

[reverieo]

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

[reverieo]

( works on your reply but is an illiterate egg next to your perfect omelette du fromage B(

(( who the fuck gave you the right to be this cute at this hour and plAY WITH MY HEART THROUGH FUCKING EGG PUNS 

I’m done come here so i can snuggle your illiterate egg butt

also pressures u because i want my damn replY WOMAN )) 

[pxrkjae]

“You met me at a very strange time in my life.”

“Bad strange or good strange?” He asked with a slight tilt of his head, a small smile forming on his lips as he stared at the girl standing in front of him.

[reverieo]

( jixsn okay but babe why you looking so fine while you glaring at me 

you are truly the greatest good I'm going to get in my life <3

now get on the bed since I said my cheesy line for the day 

a man has needs )

[reverieo]

"I accidentally brought a kitten home." { sends you a meme you didn't reblog because why the heck not

“…” It was the only appropriate response. The door had opened, and he felt like a needy bitch for expecting it. He had been waiting for five hours and thirty minutes, approximately. His eyes had been on the clock for a while, for the girl to return from whatever the hell it was she was always busy outside with. But he could never ask her to return any quicker, of course. Not verbally (for obvious reasons), and certainly not even through little side hints, nor even momentary glances towards her when she would be pulling on her sneakers, tugging at the heels of her shoes. 

And even when half her body was folded upside down, with hair clouding all over her face– he still found her charming. Pathetic. 

“How does one exactly, accidentally bring an animal home?” He pushed away the hair from his forehead, eyes narrowing a bit at the new intruder. It was only when his nose started to tickle that he remembered his body systems were on the side of repelling animal fur – just slightly. The rough edge of his thumb pushed against his nose to quiet the thing down as he leaned against a wall. Just like with anything, he kept his distance, staring at the stray animal in her arms. “I don’t like it. All the furniture in here is white, and that thing, the thing in your arms has got fucking black hair – take it back.” 

He was full of grumbles whenever she was around, but that was only because of his frail attempt to hide the reverse. “I –” He paused, rubbing at his disturbed nose again, refusing to sneeze at such a time. “We are not keeping that thing in here.”