5zicx

[5zicx]

my friends wanted me to sing it, but i didn’t know the lyrics and i was drunk

[5zicx]

We were an empire; you were conqueror, and I - your battlefield. Slowly, we built, and mighty we became. You reigned, I led, we fought, you won. And as all empires do, we must descent. Our empire collapsed, and you left your battlefield for dead.

D.C, for you have always held the winning piece in our game of war (via facinaoris)

[5zicx]

“Even the dead tell stories.”

—Marcus Sedgwick, Revolver 

[5zicx]

you’re in love with a knife fight and his lips taste like gunpowder.

[5zicx]

I want to love, but my hair smells of war and running and running.

Warsan Shire  (via bhagyawati)

[5zicx]

                                              ❝ It’s hardly that.                                                            I just don’t think it would be a fair                                                           fight for any of us....                                                           That and I am camping at your house                                                           for the moment. ❞

                                                 “What’s wrong? Scared to get                                                  your ass beaten by a girl?”

[5zicx]

even monsters have something they want to protect.                      and they’d kill to keep them safe.

[5zicx]

He wants to eat her alive. Perhaps get eaten alive, if she’s willing to taint her teeth with the misery inside of him. Perhaps even consume her while he’s getting consumed himself, finger prying open the doors to realms unknown to both, taking a leap of faith and sinking softly and gently into her bosom, arms around her waist and keeping her in place, a weight pulling him to the bottom of the despair still strong inside of him, without any resistance from his part.

Staring at her will soon not be enough, Ivon realises. Days, months, maybe even years will pass until his desire for her will turn into something impure, but the period of time is irrelevant as the outcome is inevitable and just the same — he will ache for her in ways others ache for her and from her graces he will fall, losing her favour and her admiration and turn into just another could-have-been along the road that she will remember with a sad shake of the head before jumping into her next companion’s car and driving away into carnage and horrors.

Kyungri is pristine, a tear fallen from a star and into this filth humans willingly swim in and he can’t bear the thought of dirtying her because he couldn’t keep his head out of the gutter and decided to venture onto the paths he knows he shouldn’t. She’s a goddess and people with serpents for eyelashes and hellpits for eyes don’t associate with the slaves worshiping them.

Sitting in the car next to her, skin burning where her fingers were just seconds ago, the gap between them is now more obvious than ever. It’s taunting him, provoking him and challenging him to try and close it, to try and reach her, grab her and possess her like all beautiful things demand to be, tells him that wanting to take a bite out of the forbidden fruit she holds between her own teeth, positioned strategically in front of the barrel of the gun he has given her a long time ago isn’t something to be ashamed of and try to deny himself. Ivon knows better than that. Ivon knows he knows and clenches his fist, willing himself to turn the engine on and drive away, foot planted on the gas pedal.

❝On we go, princess.❞

▐ ░▒ i've got my tongue in twists and fangs in my heart;

[5zicx]

I wanted your touch so I burnt myself to remember the feeling.

writttenn  (via iindiscriminate)

[5zicx]

Fifty words for murder and I’m every one of them

Panic! At The Disco- Victorious (via songlyricsanddreams)

[5zicx]

On the outside, Ivon nods his head understandingly, compassionately and oh so much like a caring next-door neighbour who heard worrying noises from over her apartment and came to check out if everything is alright. On the inside, the little wheels in his mind are turning and moving around to create the perfect mechanism seen to men. 

It’s quite odd that she hadn’t sought professional help for those issues of her, by now. Judging by her reaction, they’re quite potent and mendlesome and god knows that if there were any pills on the market that still had the desire effect on him, Ivon would’ve been hooked on like an addict on them.  Perhaps she’s a masochist, perhaps she’s afraid, perhaps she doesn’t have the financial means to invest in medication or, perhaps, he’s reading way too much into all of her answers and makes it out to be a bigger deal than it truly is.

Truthfully, he has absolutely no reason to look so much into the looks concerning her being. She’s nowhere near an acquaintance, or a person of interest. Gain, as far as he was concerned, was an outlet for his thoughts, somebody he had no emotional ties to, or any kind of ties, really, who he just happened to stumble upon while searching the area. She crafts dolls, works alone and most likely lives alone, and has a duller life than he ever hoped of getting. All in all, she is somebody he wouldn’t look at twice in normal circumstances.

❝ Yes, well, life has much more     to offer, don’t you think ? Tell me,     do you perhaps take comissions? A     friend’s daughter’s birthday is coming up     soon. I’m not necessarily close to either of them,     but I was invited out of courtesy. She’s quite spoiled      by her parents, so I think a one-of-a-kind type of present     would suffice.  ❞

He’s given her too many details, unecessary ones, jumbled into some kind of explanation that wasn’t needed. But rambling is good. Rambling often means that you either trust the person or you’re anxious and in this situation, both are good. Besides, perhaps giving her some details about his life besides his issues, would make her give him some about her life as well.

It doesn’t occur she doesn’t know him well– or at all, really. Perhaps she craves for conversation that wasn’t with her assistant do much she tucks away this piece of information in the back of her head. After a lifetime of being demure and docile, she often falls back into habit. Even if that has never been her.

She had thought about seeing someone to get something prescribed but she knew that would come to a few easily determinable outcomes. Unlike most people is quite aware that she isn’t normal and her personality is quite compulsive and obsessive. She’s almost certain if she found the right pills it would become something she abused and became dependent on. She’s like a leech, clinging onto anything that will give her momentary comfort. It’s quite apparent with rows upon rows of perfectly made dolls that resemble one another lined neatly in the shop below them. The second conclusion to that route would be even less favorable. Sohee tells her doctors aren’t meant to be trusted - after all, how many times had she been the hospital when her husband was still alive and they did nothing at all? They would send her away if they realized how bad her anxiety was getting. To the point of mild paranoia.

“ Patience isn’t one of my shining       virtues. For now, it hasn’t gotten       out of control so I don’t worry about       it too often. There are far greater things       to worry about than a little lack of sleep.”

She is terribly predictable, it seems.

[5zicx]

Monsters are born of pain and grief and loss and anger.

Jim Butcher, The Dresden Files. (via rachelsdawes)

[5zicx]

Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My god, do you learn.

C. S. Lewis (via poetrea)

[5zicx]

🌽

🌽 - going through a corn maze. (tanith/christian)

It was supposed to be a calm, peaceful night for the both of them. A silent car ride, at most. He doesn’t even know what exactly triggered the fight. Tanith said something, and he made a stupid, snarky comment that made her blow up, and just like a chain reaction, he started yelling back, one hand on the steering wheel and the other motion around as he spat all the words swirling through his head at an alarming pace that almost left him dizzy. Next thing he knows, is the car skidding to a stop, a few feet away from a house that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up just from being near it, and Tanith furiously slamming the door shut as she made her way angrily to it, flipping him off over her shoulder with each occassion given to her.

Despite the fear crawling under his skin and latching itself onto his bones as his feet are taking him closer and closer to the bloody mansion, he feels compelled to be no less than one step behind her, ensuring that her back is being looked out for, just in case. In hindsight, that should’ve been his cue to grab her by the hand and drag her back to the car, whether she was screaming and kicking, and get the both of them the fuck outta there. His ego, however, allows no such thing and grumbling under his breath, he’s hot on her trails.

The property is eerily quiet, making each sound of the corn swaying under the harsh, autumn wind deafening. Ironically, the place would be most suitable for a Halloween party with a dozen or so eager teenagers, waiting to get all smashed up and eventually ending up being murdered by a lunatic by the end of the night. The place is compelling, allowing no other emotions other than raw fear and a sense of dread to be present in the body of the watcher and Tanith, and consequently Christian, end up in the looming shadow thrown on the ground by the unkept, delipidated and abandoned house.  The building looks threatening on its own, but the grafitti adorning each wall of it make it look even more threatening and omnious than necessary and the blond curses under his breath for getting the both of them into this shitty predicament. It seems like the previous owners just up and left, without even bothering to take their possessions with them, if the rocky, old, wicker chair is of indication; what was once a comfortable part of their every day life, is now turned into a prop from a horror movie.

❝ Why the fuck do you always have   to be so bloody infuriating ?! ❞

Ignoring the goosebumps that have started to break all over the length of his arms, he shouts, cringing slightly once the silence was broken, his voice echooing in the abandoned surroundings. Fucking shit, could this place get even creppier ? Honestly, he shouldn’t have taken that road and exited the highway. He thought that a longer car drive would allow the both of them some sort of privacy and create the perfect atmosphere for some heart-to-heart talk, but obviously, that didn’t turn out as planned. If only they could get this argument done and be over with it so they could both be closer to their warm, comforting place rather than in the middle of bloody nowhere with nobody they consider to be close knowing for their whereabouts, Christian would consider this night a bloody success.

[5zicx]

My hands are full of ash. I burn down everything I touch.

(via giraffevader)

[5zicx]

I don’t feel very human anymore.

7:59 pm 4/28/15; l.m. (via seduceddeath)

[5zicx]

There’s death in the air, Ivon’s skin’s soaked in it and for a fleeting moment, he wonders if he’s the source of it, but the sound of gunshots polluting the air around him has him jumping for a second and knows for sure that that’s not the case. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees a shadow moving, the light of the faint bulb of the street lamp giving away the position of the his pursuer. Before his life could be in any sort of danger, his elbow comes in contact with the man’s throat, cutting off their supply of air and crushing their wind pipe, the familiar weight of a gun in his hand and the repercussion of the trigger being pulled making his body shudder.

Ivon barely blinks as the body hits the asphalt, bones crushing under the realisation that another hole shall be dug tonight to accomodate the steadily growing number of bodies being freed from the burden of an unfulfilling life by their traitorous hands, all because of a delay in delievering the amount of money owned to Minsook. The soldier’s ledge is, however, drowning in blood and no flowers shall spur from the barren ground around it and enough is enough, tonight, no more playing god. So with the indifference of a tired man, his face he paints with the cooling liquid, ripping his clothes in different places and dragging the evidence of the crime commited down an alley. Once the job is done, Ivon takes his place against the wall, concentrating on lighting up the cigarette stolen from the dead man in the furious wind rather than on the agonizing sounds coming from inside of the building his companion for the night disappeared into.

Ivon has got to credit when due, and the quickness with which the heir solved the issue is impressive. He eyes him carefully from his place, putting out his third cigarette in a row with his boot and giving him an inquisitive look. He wonders if there are any survivors. He wonders if he should even wonder about that or if there are families waiting for them back home. He decides that he shouldn’t as it is not his business in any any and as far as he is concerned, his body count is miraculously low tonight. That, for now, is more than enough.

❝ I take it you’re done here    for the night ? Did the negotiations    go as smoothly as expected ? ❞

      A tongue clicks in mild frustration at the other’s attitude and part of the heir just wants to say fuck it and ditch the other man. Fingers twitch before gliding over the cool metal surface of death in his pocket, finding the object comforting almost like a child may find their favorite toy comforting. A flicker of a sigh slips through cracked lips and Minsoo’s gaze drags over Ivon’s figure, wondering if his assistance was even worth it.

      Doubtful.

     “ You say that as if things are not going our way, ” he sighs faintly, feet giving a little tap against the ground in barely restrained impatience. Before anything more can be said, one of his men is returning and speaking quietly in his ear, causing lips to curl into some semblance of a smile, though it more closely resembles a snarl.

       A glance is spared for the other man and he cocks an eyebrow, gun slipping from his pocket as a ring-clad finger flicks off the safety. Already he’s beginning a casual prowl around the corner of the building, towards the junkyard across the way.

       “ Come if you want, I don’t give a fuck– just don’t give me a reason to paint the floor red. ” Normally enjoying a hunt, this particular chase has gone on far too long and his patience is wearing thin, leaving him more eager to leave a bullet in the fleeing man’s skull and take the money than simply take the money.

       Without a word he turns on his heel, stalking towards the current hiding spot of their target, not bothering a look behind his shoulder. Ears remain sharp, listening for the telltale sound of footsteps.