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on loving your siblings
I don't love anyone, Belle and Sebastian//The Reynolds Pamphlet, Hamilton by Lin-Manuel Miranda//The Other Boleyn Girl(2008)//Fleabag, 2x06//@earth-to-mothership //Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, Jewish Literacy//Antigone, Jean Anouilh//Maurice Sendak//Little Miss Sunshine (2006)//The Elektra Complex, @filmnoirsbian //NA
#♡┆ * character study — isaac#♡┆ * relationship — isaac x yana#lyn just HAD to send this to me and make me emo
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COFFEE SESSIONS 01⠀♡⠀ 220402 | 8:41 PM
warnings: mentions of death, guns
“i had a dream.”
the clacking sounds of his keyboard come to a halt as soon as she utters the first word. there’s silence on his end, waiting for her to continue as his hands rest on the desk.
“more of a nightmare, really, but it’s the same one that i’ve been having every now and then.” his thigh is warm against her temple, unlike the cup of coffee that remains unconsumed in her hands. it’s been five hours since her arrival, five hours of her sitting on the floor beside him while he works away on his computer with no other sound between them other than his typing and vivaldi flowing through the speakers.
“what’s different this time?”
her mind races with images of bloodstained walls, bodies littering the floor - friend or foe, she couldn’t care to know - and them running. running, running, running. the settings shift around them so quickly, grasslands melting into narrow bridges into urban jungles, yet they don’t stop running. the footsteps behind them are constant, bullets whizzing past their heads and angry cries of ‘traitors’ following them wherever they go. they will catch up eventually. he’s going to die. she’s going to-
his hand rests on her shoulder and his touch brings her back to the surface, gasping for air and knuckles white around the shaking mug. she takes a deep breath, in and out until the tremors stop and she feels like her lungs aren’t being restricted anymore.
she looks up at him, chin resting on his thigh and brown eyes pleading.
“you know that i’ll never betray you, right?”
he stares back at her, a perfect mask of indifference.
“what’s different, corina?”
she blinks. not the reassurance that she wants, but he hasn’t made any move to push her away. she prides herself for being the person who knows him best. she can read every movement of his brows, every twitch of his lips and the subtle change in his tone when most see a man of few words and even fewer expressions. she can read him, usually, but this time his expression betrays nothing - and neither does hers.
she stands up slowly and places the cup on the desk beside his empty one. in the five hours that she has spent in his apartment, he hasn’t gotten up to get himself a refill. she remembers how he would raise the cup to his lips long after he finished his drink, not for lack of paying attention or forgetting, but to chase the remnants of the bitter elixir until there’s absolutely nothing left. his little finger twitches, the one on his right hand and the one closer to the kitchen door. he doesn’t notice it, but she does. after all, she’s the one who knows him the best.
they stare at each other for what feels like hours, and then the portrait is ruined when her hand raises slowly until she has two fingers against the middle of his forehead, thumb pointing at the ceiling.
“right about here, 71 grain from a .32 auto.”
sunwoo’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough for her to know that it’s recognition. she’s the only one in the branch, hell, maybe even the entire organisation, to still carry that calibre even if it’s just as a last resort. a little gun for a little girl, they used to say, and while sentimentality does play a part in it, her keltec p32 has never once failed her in the nearly fourteen years that she has had it. it hasn’t felt as heavy as it does at the moment, holstered to her hip under her jacket.
he’s silent for the longest time, a blank canvas for her to project her deepest fears onto. while she’s wholeheartedly convinced that he can never do it, she wouldn’t be surprised if he pulls out his own gun from the drawer and shoots her right then and there. in their world, it’s never a matter of why or how; it’s merely a race to kill the other person before they can kill you. she watches motionless when he finally leans back into his chair and closes his eyes, a serene smile gracing his lips.
“it would be a privilege to die by your hands, corina jung.”
she laughs. she laughs so hard that her entire body shakes and it’s near imperceptible if it’s from relief or fury. she knows what it means to work for the organisation. she knows that there’s a universe out there where one of them will meet their end while facing down the barrel of the other’s gun. she knows that there’s a chance that it might just be this one.
the laughter dies down and she wipes the tears from her eyes (of mirth, she tries to convince the both of them) and takes his empty cup to the kitchen to brew him a new one because she can tell that he’s moments away from doing it himself. because she knows him best. because she doesn’t know how much longer she can stand to be in the same room as him without breaking down all over again.
“likewise.”
#♡┆ * self para — corina#♡┆ * self para — sunwoo#ik it's mostly corina-centric but he's in here so i'm tagging him#no i did not proofread this pls don't point it out i will cry
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Screaming
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jiwon 📻 naver now 210604
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#mood
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missionary so we can continue our argument from before
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I need you to know that no matter what happens, it was worth it to me. Being with you, loving you. It was all worth it.
Jenny Han (via quotemadness)
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Juyeon for DAZED
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poor little child,
you were only a pawn in this game
made for queens and kings.
poor little child,
slowly they drove you insane
while you danced on their strings.
poor little child,
such weight you carry, such shame
destined to fall with your fake wings.
poor little child,
only one question remains:
were you the end, or the means?
the tears at your funeral are the tears of joy | m.a.w (via dvoyd)
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Conversation
200704 | 01:13 AM
GRUMPY JIE: You better be asleep right now. You have to be up in three hours.
YOU: i don't think i can do this
GRUMPY JIE: I knew it. What's wrong?
YOU: maybe i shouldn't go on sunday...
GRUMPY JIE: Are you crazy? You really want your agent to kill you?
GRUMPY JIE: You've been typing and deleting for the past ten minutes. Whatever you want to say, just tell me or I'll fall asleep.
YOU: i'm kinda scared. what if i do badly? i know i'm gonna mess up in some way.
GRUMPY JIE: You always do this. You get cold feet near the last minute and you say that you want to back out, but you end up doing it anyway and you do it well.
GRUMPY JIE: Have some tea or whatever shit you do to calm down.
GRUMPY JIE: You'll be fine.
YOU: i'll be gone for a long time. i'm not sure if i can take it.
GRUMPY JIE: Ah, so that's what it is. Weren't you away for longer periods before?
YOU: yeah, but that's different. i doubt we'd even have cellphone signal up there, much less wifi
YOU: besides, i don't want it to take that long again. it was torture back then, and it'll be even more so now. i don't want to keep them waiting for too long :(
GRUMPY JIE: Listen. They're your friends, right? Surely they understand your situation?
YOU: i haven't exactly told most of them yet, but i've mentioned that i'll be gone for a while. [not delivered]
YOU: i'm just scared that the long wait will make them forget about me. [not delivered]
YOU: what if i come back and they don't care about me anymore? there are so many things happening there right now, and i can't be a part of them even if i want to. i keep missing out on everything. [not delivered]
YOU: i keep losing people. i'm scared. [not delivered]
YOU: i don't want to be lonely anymore [not delivered]
GRUMPY JIE: Vi? Are you asleep now?
GRUMPY JIE: I'll sleep now, too. We can talk about this tomorrow.
#♡┆ * self para — victoria#just tagging it as that bc. idk what to tag it as + so it can be found yeah
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200701 | 03:28AM
your bare face stares back at you from the mirror, the hairbrush smoothing over shiny locks. one of the corners of her lips is raised, almost mocking you. does she know something that you don’t? is she keeping secrets from you? she makes you nervous sometimes.
thinking too much again?
“no.”
you wonder if you answered a little too fast. a crease appears between the eyebrows of your reflection and you hear her shush, the bristles of the brush massaging your scalp. your eyelids start to feel heavy. it’s been a long day of working and dealing with people. new advertisements filmed, contracts pored over before getting signed, having to redo your training all over again after your body failed you -
it’s not your fault. you’re still recovering, my dear.
still, you can’t help the disappointment that fills you.
sleep helps, feifei. you have to take better care of yourself, remember? we already talked about this.
“i know. i’m sorry.”
no more of that. just do as i say. you still trust me, right?
“of course.”
the answer comes as naturally as breathing. you trust her. this is the safest and most assured that you’ve felt in your entire life, and it’s all because of her.
less than two hours before you have to get up.
the chair drags across marble floor as you pull back from your vanity. you make your way to the bed, snuggling deep under the weighted covers. sleep will help you get better. darkness tugs at the edges of your vision until it takes over completely, but not before you see yellow eyes in the shadows.
calm washes over you. she might be in your head, but she still keeps her promise of watching over you.
good night, feifei.
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The Life and Death (and Life Again) of Victoria Zhou
trigger warnings: death, gore, mentions of blood and injuries, murder and drowning.
It only took three blinks.
When you opened your eyes after the first blink, your sight was met with bright oranges and yellows, intense heat washing over your face forcing you to shield it with your arm. It’s too much, you tried to call out to him, but your throat was tight from smoke inhalation and you could only stumble back. One step, two, your earlier remark about the cracked floor of that particular corner of the building fleeing your mind until you felt the shift under your boot.
It was a blur after the second. The world was moving far too quickly for your taste and your body felt lighter, like you were floating - or maybe you were falling. You didn’t even try to grab for anything, freezing up and staring blankly ahead until your back hit the concrete at a speed that broke your spine upon contact. The air rushed out of your lungs in a wet wheeze, and you’re acutely aware of the sharp pain on your side, the feeling of metal piercing through skin. It hurt. Everything hurt. Your eyes closed, wishing for the pain to go away.
When you opened them again, you were home.
Read more.
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“I have a deep fear of being too much. That one day I will find my someone, and they will realize that I am a hurricane. That they will step back and be intimidated by my muchness.”
— Michelle K., Rumbles From My Head (via wordsnquotes)
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