#fcxjroyal

(. after waking from a dream — one that was way too long, he thinks, could have lasted for days — his first instinct is to find byunghun, and so he focuses in on his pretty face; sees him smile and his heart flutters for just a moment.  he doesn’t feel any differently than before, despite the strange dream — ah, whatever.  shaken thoughts drift away easily and jr feels the particles of his skin peel away and disperse as he travels with a snap.  he ends up in some library he’s never seen, right behind byunghun.  it’s kind of nice that he can’t see him — sneak attack !!! a smile, arms slipping around byunghun’s neck from behind and he nuzzles his nose into seafoam green hair. strange enough, he remembers that this is what he wanted to see — once upon a time.  he still thinks byunghun looks better in blonde. ) hey, pretty boy.  (. his eyes are half closed, he feels at peace. byunghun is with him here, he’s with him there; they were meant to be. ) did you dye your hair mint because i wanted to see you in seafoam green? you’re trying to spoil me because you missed my birthday, i know it —.

(. txt ) … what version of pacific rim have you seen because last i checked we don’t have jaegers 

(. txt ) scratch that HOW HAVE YOU SEEN PACIFIC RIM AND NOT THE LION KING ??? ? ??? wow you are so deprived

(. txt ) why are you texting me with water monsters on the loose do you want me to die so you can cut off my feet |: wow pretty boy, you’re the worst

(. txt ) wouldn’t i frankenstein myself if i died like the first time tho —

(. txt ) unless you’re planning some crazy experiments then i am out of the room and moving back into the one i was assigned to ok bye

(. txt ) seriously though can u not we’re in the middle of an emergency situation AND FIRE BREATH DOESN’T HELP IF I’M SURROUNDED IN WATER i can grill the fish though but i don’t eat meat do you want them to put in glass jars or something you’re weird maybe you’ll eat them idk

(. txt ) by the way, potato friend and minty are safe (:

(. txt ) the tale of how i saw flashes of pacific rim must be reserved for another time, however it includes an interesting entrepreneur who had the face of a jackal...i'm sure you'll enjoy it.

(. txt ) oh? will i have to set fire to the old room then? i hope you didn't forget anything valuable in it.

( / . . . well, it wasn’t his intention to shove his roommate out the window.

after all, these things have a tendency to happen.

although – and he presses his lips together during this interval – that is most definitely a lie. and conjured for what purpose? to protect himself from a single perspective on the frivolous murder? curse these inexplicable thoughts interrupting him during the time of disposal, couldn’t have vultures and crows outside his dorm disturbing the silence so rare to the school. noise became a airborne infection, spreading since asked to write a single worded answer, so, what is one more dead bassoon when it was out of tune in the first place?

or is this, perhaps, a disguise to repress the wrath dehydrating him, invented to prevent hundreds of skeletons broken, more glass statues littering the lawn in their frosted fragments . . . crescent shapes scar his palms, clutched fists that had broken skin, jonghyun assigned to room with a papier-mâché girl, hollow and worthless – should send her to an early grave as well but decided against it after the paper clip fulfilled its purpose, this ‘kwon mina’ woman absent and frankly for the best, the termite anxiety subsiding, electroconvulsive therapy beginning . . .  

but the gap in sentience is transitory, a void swallowed by confirmation, chest shrinking now that it’s all in reach ) “ jonghyun. ” ( / oh that authoritarian voice, is it necessary? should have held back, yet the name a guillotine and his timeline is a singular linear sting of gravitational events – strides over to where the boy is lounging and jams arm underneath legs. no warning, not when there’s microscopic woodpeckers on clockwork, or clockwork made from of mechanical woodpeckers . . . fog in his corneas, toadstools growing in his lungs . . . and his other arms slides around jonghyun’s back and the fingers curl, claw-like things of cast iron, and he lifts, raises him from his lethargy and balances him against his chest  –

[/ haggard of breath, in a worried pace does his heart beat in rhythm to his striding legs. cleansed and purged of the blood entrenched stench, white walls and wooden floors unstained of death, the memories of the scene, however, are still freshly etched. he could still hear the cries of pain and crunches of bones ringing clear. continuously, he runs, grief lurking behind the shadows he will not fathom. minseok cries out, a wail, a shout, searching for that one he wishes, he hopes, to be alive.]

JR! [/ nearly does he shriek. an unsettlingly echo of his own voice returning, not a student or a teacher replies to his screams. tiredness forthcoming, his legs buckle underneath him as he trips, sprawled and weakened. how far has he ran with his legs, now, lacking of energy, pulsing in pain from a twisted ankle? how long has he shouted, his cries left unanswered in the caving expanse of the darkness he follows? and since when has his tears begin to fall, dampening his cheeks in that foreign emotion?]

( / distinctively he remembers the jagged teeth piercing his neck, decapitating him with razors sprouting from maxilla, the roof of a mouth before world vanished, the muscles of a beast’s throat enveloping him, the black and the paresthesia - )

he had died, yet there is a light pendulous from above, and after blinking the will-o-wisp stops vacillating, motionless as a fluorescent construct of the ceiling. oh? was this death? the axons weave and he realizes, fingers, toes, his body is whole and he touches his jugular, follows it to his collar bone, head sewn back to the shoulders as if nothing had happened, not even pain mumbles at his tonsils. a mechanical creature he sits up slowly, delayed by the mystification and the untainted corridor of the school, not a brick disrupted or droplet of crimson defiling the institution – but from a dream? the corners of his lips tug downwards as he rises, peels of that hypnotic fatigue and brushes dust from his blazer. alive or dead, maybe they were the same )

the tattoo of your chosen word appears on your forearm as soon as your hand finishes the last stroke — you’ve been granted the ability of fire breath, and must follow the guidelines below :

does not retain immunity (outside of the resistance in mouth and throat) and may burn oneself.

might accidentally set things on fire via sneezing.

(. txt ) i won’t even try to decode that, i’ll take your word for it

(. txt ) …i got the reference, unfortunately. but let’s not talk about bad literature right now, i’ll become ill