#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ imagery ; home

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ One-Sided Love: In Which, you realize Jinwoo was always for ???... ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 017 ✦ ┆・

‼️[tw: ANGST TO FLUFF, HAPPY ENDING, strong imagery of depression, hanahaki disease, hurt, subtance-abuse, suicidal-imagery, mention of death]‼️

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 1 || Part Two ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ He Lied. He Had to Lie. He Needed to Lie. ] ¡! ❞

It is his first, and his final gift to you.   The you who is no longer by his side. He bids you a farewell, a farewell he never thought he would do. For a friend.       "Goodbye, may your dreams be pleasant as you drift in purgatory. May your soul rest. I'm sorry."

…

As Jinwoo walks away from the stonehead, a sudden sharp ring stabs through his head. He groaned, almost stumbling on the muddy ground from the sheer agony.

He continued to struggle for a while, before finally removing his hand that had been gripping the side of his head. His fingers that had been wrapped around the umbrella hilt loosened, causing the object to flutter and fall down the floor. Splattering down on the muddy floor.

Ah… Yes.

He finally remembers. 

Everything that he had erased in his memories,... Have finally come back. The things he had buried in the sea of forgotten memories, have suddenly come back to him like a dam bursting open. It swallowed everything at its wake.

Everything that Jinwoo swore he would never have again, has finally come back.

His gaze lingered back on the stonehead in front of him. The lonely, lonely rock that was hollow and devoid of anything.

Though the flowers he had offered were beautiful as they were, it didn’t matter as the rain dampened the pretty petals down into pathetic, lifeless things. Those flowers were beautiful when he had offered it, but now, it looked drained of all its colours.

Jinwoo took a step again, turning his back and walking away.

He was trying desperately to ignore the hammering feeling ripping his heart apart.

Maybe it was of guilt, of sadness, of shame, of remorse— No.

Maybe it was all of it.

As Jinwoo comes home, his gaze would linger upon Cha Hae-in, who greets him warmly with that beaming smile.

She was beautiful, like a precious gemstone gleaming amongst the cobbles.

Jinwoo wanted to admire her, he truly did, but the memories he has regained caused her image to become muddy.

He tried everyday, he tried to be happy, he tried to play the perfect role of boyfriend to her. He kept up his appearances as the most beloved and hailed hunter.

But everything was slowly starting to swallow him into the abyss.

Ironic, isn’t it?

He was the embodiment of the darkness, the face of death, the persona of all the shadows.

Yet somehow, his own darkness was finally starting to destroy him from within.

The more the days passed, the more his grey eyes would lose their life, the more empty they became. Eventually, Jinwoo’s normally calm gaze—

Would become faded.

His eyes were still there, but for some reason, it felt that they were far gone. The little light that he had in his brilliant orbs has finally disappeared.

Jinwoo was rotting from the inside-out. As if his heart is beating out black ichor. He felt vile and disgusting, he wanted to rip himself apart, he wanted to stab himself and put an end to it.

Jinwoo was drowning now. 

Not even Hae-in’s loving words and affectionate advances weren’t doing it for him.

The more Jinwoo looked at her, the more muddled his gaze would become.

He didn’t know if it was hate or disgust.

He still needed to be a good man, so he politely asked her to break off the relationship. He didn’t want part of this anymore, he didn’t want to keep up the illusion anymore. He just wanted to disappear.

Jinwoo started to become an alcoholic, he would douse bottle after bottle but to his dismay— He could never be drunk. He couldn’t drink his sorrows away. He can’t get lost in the blissful euphoria of being lost in the toxicity of debauchery.

Even his family can't stop Jinwoo’s descent into silent madness.

He felt pathetic and guilty whenever he would see the pained expressions they would make when they see the amount of bottles he had already empty.

So Jinwoo would isolate himself in the land of eternal rest, where not even his children can call out to him unless absolutely necessary.

Jinwoo really just wanted to hide here, to bask in the darkness he had first mastered but now is a representation of his dying consciousness.

He would disappear and reappear again and again.

Whenever he hunts, his methods are especially brutal and unforgiving, as if he is projecting all of his pain onto the poor creatures that would cross paths with him.

He would often come out of the gates completely drenched in blood, creating an image of utter horror but somehow the bloodbath he showers in suited his broken gaze.

Jinwoo felt more like a wanderer now.

Ceaselessly taking one step in front of the other, wandering aimlessly like a lost spirit that is nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

Wander. Wander. Wander.

And eventually, he wanders over to your resting place. Jinwoo found himself unconsciously walking to your grave eventually, his distant gaze reading the stonehead over and over as if expecting something of some sort.

The memories he was trying to repress so badly, are torturing him again.

Jinwoo had spent… 800 times regressing over and over.

The reason?

You.

The you who is now dead.

But why is that? Didn’t he make you suffer such a torturous heartbreak? Didn’t he himself push you away and abandon you to your own woes? So why?

Those 800 times he had regressed, Jinwoo had lost you over and over. No matter how hard he tries to save you, no matter how hard he attempts to change your fate— Jinwoo would keep losing you and in the end your cold corpse would be in his arms while he screams into the air; cursing the gods and everything that is alive. 

Why?... How come everything else could have a happy ending but you? You who had always been there for him, you who cradled him in most miserable days? You who had always been the one to patch his wounds up? Why can’t he have you? Why can’t he give you everything? 

Jinwoo had tried every goddamn method.

He killed the gods, he murdered the monarchs, he sealed off the gates, he tried every outcome he could ever think of— And yet… And yet the outcome is always the same.

Jinwoo kept gambling, pulling card after card after card after card… And now he is empty handed.

All of it always ends with him having the fool in his hand. 

He cries, laughing like a madman as he knelt in front of your grave as if he was begging for mercy.

Jinwoo thought that removing himself from your life would solve things. He attempted to remove your memories and it didn’t work.

So Jinwoo instead tried to remove his memories of you. Because if he had kept those memories of you, he wouldn’t be able to resist himself and would run back to your arms where he felt so safe and sound.

Even after he removed every trace of you in his brain— His heart stubbornly yearned for you and reversed the curse he had inflicted on himself and once again showed him the hell he tried so desperately tried to escape.

“Child, you’re weeping again” Jinwoo’s gaze would snap up, finding himself in the presence of Ashborn who is sporting his image. “Your plans have failed once again, I see”

Jinwoo bitterly laughs, getting up from his pathetic position. “Of course I did, and you as always— Had predicted it. You’re right, I lost that person again.”

“...”

“I tried everything, Ashborn” Jinwoo chokes up, his look far gone from sane now. “I tried ever fucking method in hopes that my bet would have a sliver of hope and make a break through. I always… Always considered all the possibilities that could destroy the ending that I want but for fuck’s sake I keep losing everytime.”

“You haven’t tried everything, child” Ashborn says, transforming into the image of you.

Jinwoo purses his lips, his eyes watering at the sight of you. Although it was just an illusion by his predecessor— Jinwoo still felt a strong tug in his heart that of which longs to embrace you.

“What do you mean?” Jinwoo asks, his gaze falling down. 

“Have you ever wondered why that child was immune to the potions and how you couldn’t remove their memories of you?” Ashorn hums, circling around Jinwoo. “Why do you think so?”

“....”

“Because they’re not from here” Ashborn answers immediately, catching Jinwoo off-guard.

“What?” Jinwoo glares at him.

“That child’s body doesn’t respond to your powers because they are an anomaly that shouldn’t have been in this world in the first place” Ashborn explains. “The world in which that lover of yours hails from is far different from our homeland that is tainted by meddling gods and monarchs, mana doesn't flow through that world. None of our ailments with the divine or anything else taints their homeworld.”

“So you’re saying that my biggest mistake was not figuring that out soon and I was the fool who made my lover suffer through those painful things when I could have solved it just by sending them home?” Jinwoo bitterly laughs, choking in his sobs. “...I’m so… So stupid”

“....” Ashborn chuckles, patting Jinwoo’s shoulder. “Do you want to be with them? Your beloved?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“In exchange, you will give up your throne as the shadow monarch, everything that you have with you right now including the system—” Ashborn turns to him “Are you willing to give that up.”

“Yes.”

There was silence between the two, Ashbron’s eyes would bore into Jinwoo’s as if waiting for the man to falter. 

But falter he didn’t.

“Alright” Ashborn hums. 

“I’ll be an anomaly in that world, won’t I?” Jinwoo asks.

“That would be the case if it weren’t for the fact that I am your predecessor” He muses, “My last gift to you will be me taking my place back as the shadow monarch. All of which that are yours as my heir will be returned to me.”

“Including my kids?” Jinwoo inquires.

“Naturally.”

“Then let me say farewell to them” He requests.

Ashborn merely nods, letting Jinwoo turn around.

He takes a deep breath, his deep grey eyes turning purple as for one final time he says his command, “Arise”

“I’m sorry,”— Was the first thing Jinwoo had said, bowing his head to the shadows he had grown to love. “And thank you,... For everything. For all of your services, for all of the memories you all have shown me. Even if you’re all just undead creatures I summoned for my own greedy pursuit, I thank you all for everything that you have done,... My kids.”

The shadows wail, from sadness and from joy. Their voices would mix and howl, urging Jinwoo to pursue his dream. They would miss him, yes, but they value their master’s happiness over their own selfish wishes.

They had been there, they knew how much heartache and mourning their master has gone through for that person, how much pain Jinwoo had gone through, how much he cried in those lonely nights. 

They listened to all of his screams.

And they, his shadows, his soldiers, his children,... Yearn for nothing more than to give Jinwoo the happiness he deserves.

So for a final time, they salute to Sung Jinwoo.

As the man himself fades into pieces of fleeting white petals.

For a final time, it is now farewell.

Farewell to the shadow monarch, Sung Jinwoo.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

You were admiring the pink petals falling beside your window, not noticing a pair of grey eyes lovingly admiring you from the classroom door. 

A tender gaze so full of love.

“May I?” The deep and smooth voice inquires, snapping you out of your daze and you turn.

He was handsome, pristine and upright. Perfectly carved out features as if made by divine hands. Everything about his features was absolutely symmetrical, even his gentle eyes and straight brows. Even with his puffy ebony locks— He looked so otherworldly and yet familiar at the same time

You nod and he sits down, throwing you a small smile.

“Jinwoo.” He speaks, the sound of his voice causing the tips of your heart to tremble as your stomach fluttered. “My name is Sung Jinwoo."

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[sanglunae]

WHAT  KIND  OF  STORY  ARE  YOU  ?

a  story  that  ignites  people.

you’re  a  story  that  brings  light  into  people���s  lives.  light  is  not  always  pretty.  you’re  a  pure  light,  a  violent  delight  -  and  you  may  have  a  violent  end.  you  fuel  people’s  thoughts  with  love  and  outrage  against  the  course  of  the  universe.  you’re  a  story  of  enemies  turned  into  lovers  and  lovers  turned  into  enemies,  of  betrayals  and  kisses,  of  monsters  under  beds.  you’re  not  a  fairytale  and  you  don’t  want  to  be.  to  you,  fairytales  feel  dead  -  you  want  something  burning  with  life.  you’re  screaming  to  people  to  wake  up  and  run  !  run  as  fast  as  they  can,  as  far  as  they  can,  until  they  figure  out  why  they  are  breathing.  until  they  pause  and  ask  “  what  is  important  enough,  in  this  world,  to  run  to  ?  ”  the  tragedy  is  that  sometimes,  people  don’t  want  you  anymore  because  you’re  too  much.  too  heavy,  too  loud,  too  serious.  ignore  them.  they’re  the  ones  so  light  that  they’re  evaporating  into  thin  air.

[slaterherms]

˗ˏˋ 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

                  𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 ! ´ˎ˗

hi rpc ! i decided to make my very first masterlist, and i made this for random muse aesthetics, for that one little section in some apps that ask for aesthetics. i was a bit lost on how to approach this, but ultimately, i’ve decided to give aesthetics inspired by own muses. so please enjoy this little insight of my muses and i hope this helps / inspires some of you ! ♡

i still have many more muses, so i might make a part 2. 

ALEXANDER MORGAN bruised knuckles, chipped black nail polish, annotated books, a half empty bottle of alcohol, weirdly shaped mugs, winging life, a god complex, messy sneakers, cigarette butts, a boyish grin, smiley piercings, sarcastic comments, a modernized vintage car, dive bars, the song magnolia by gang of youths, sunglasses after a rough night, raising the middle finger as a response to everything, taking a punch with a grin, riling up a crowd, the sound of cheers, drumming fingers on tables, summer nights. 

ACHILLES HART video game music, long socks with patterns, a pot of black coffee, clicking of a keyboard, coding, all-nighter for work, all-nighter to finish a video game, a scowl that seems permanent, self-deprecating humor, a cracked relationship with a father, a beat up 60′s model car, red eyes from a screen, the song father of mine by everclear, lights reflecting on the street right after rain. 

JACK O’RILEY a small plant in every room of an apartment, a collection of vinyl records, a worn out journal, an acoustic guitar, calloused fingers, a black kitten, live music, jeff buckley’s voice, an empty record store, the color dark sage, a broken home, thunderstorms, black coffee, second-hand books, a walkman, long leather jackets, dirty boots.  

SUMMER DALTON tattoo sleeves, pink rolling paper, winged eyeliner, baggy pants, a habit of self-piercing and tattooing, clear lip gloss, lipstick stained cigarette butts, festering rage, balled fists, the song honey by halsey, a bluntness that can’t be helped, acting out, red heels, black crop tops, claw-shaped painted nails, fingers full of rings, mid-day summer.

DAXTON PASCUAL skateboards, scuffed shoes, bruises all along legs and arms, the sound of a bong when you take a hit, a drawer of rolling paper, the smell of freshly baked goods, golden retriever energy, counting in your head to ease anxiety, painted nails, dyed hair, impulsivity, innocence, oral fixation, the inability to focus on a single thing, romantic comedies, the smell of freshly cut grass. 

RONAN JEAN random sketches, a sketchbook, random band t-shirts, messy curls, dilf glasses, chewing at the end of a pencil, all-nighters, a spacious loft, industrial styles, honey whiskey, male manipulator music, sixties movies, finding peace in being alone, dark academia, hand-me-down clothes, dark colour palettes, an autumn night. 

ROSALIE BERG light academia, red lipstick, tote bags, long coats, hair clips, french nails, always holding a book, gold jewelry, kind to everyone, wandering in bookstores, walking everywhere, listening to podcasts, watching crime documentaries, neat handwriting, sticky notes everywhere, a little bit of sadness behind their eyes, natural makeup (or none at all), sweaters, a spring morning. 

FAIROZ MOUSA snake imagery, colourful jewelry, layered necklaces, a collection of crystals, tarot cards, incense, plants all over their apartment, sapphic literature, academia, chanting for a cause, dark coloured nails, tattooes all over their body, crop tops, long skirts, bandanas, braids, colourful eyeshadow, combat boots, feminist art, social justice social media, mood lighting, sunsets on the beach.