2 AM

[alt-adventures-deactivated20250]

Night cap 2 | Night cap 1

[skeletonfumes]

Cyber City Oedo 808 [サイバーシティ OEDO 808] Yoshiaki Kawajiri

[skeletonfumes]

Cyber City Oedo 808 [サイバーシティ OEDO 808] Yoshiaki Kawajiri

[missingbruises]

🌙 can’t wait to redo this blog again 🌙

[missingbruises]

the ankle monitor fucking itched ---- late last night they bestowed it upon him with all-teeth smiles. a requirement for his release from the youth detention centre into a brand new, shiny supported housing and mentoring programme --- where he would remain until a parole officer decided his re-integration with society was complete. a bus dropped him and his garbage bag full of clothes off at the front door this morning. now, he was sitting in a communal cafeteria, gripping a mug of coffee and dutifully ignoring the other children screeching about. 

toes curled inside his ragged shoes until they popped. jamie ross [ age seventeen, convicted of anti-social behaviour and minor aggravated assault following a dispute with a friend ] attempted to swallow the building rage. this was an opportunity, so the judge said, to straighten out his life. to return to normality; GCSEs, A levels, a job, a career, a family, a house, sunday night television, a fucking set of golf clubs, a cute hobby to distract from inevitable death, a shit flat to store all the shit things that people need to live.

fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that and fuck that too. what he wanted was some peace and goddamn quiet --- and something to drink. this was mug number six of scalding hot coffee and it wasn’t cutting through the need of, well, his usual cocktail of gin and drugs. that was the point though, wasn’t it? the sooner his piss ran clear, the sooner he could get the fuck out of here.

he ran a tatted hand through his shaggy hair and ignored the caffeine jitters. his tired eyes locked onto a new adult --- tall, tattoos, muscled, frowning, a coiled energy that said he could be a threat but was choosing not to be --- and tracked him until said man sat across from him. jamie offered a blank stare and leaned back until his spine touched the cold, comforting concrete wall. teeth clenched, he said nothing. 

@fxckingmoran​

[hits-like-an-avalanche]

[recaption]

[missingbruises]

hvbris​:

“Hello Jamie.”

Her voice was soft, but it sounded distant. It was too far away. As if it resonated everywhere in the Worlds at the same time. She was looking in the distance, she didn’t need to look at him. 

She sees All. 

“Not long has passed since our last encounter.” She noted simply. 

Death stood up, incredibly slowly. Around her, even time seemed to pass too fast. She moved and yet it never seemed like she did. Immobile, inflexible, she stood up. 

“You come to me so often, and yet, you never rest in my arms.”

She liked order. She was Order. People died, and she was There. But Jamie was a glitch in the system. He troubled the course of Nature. He died over and over, and yet, he always eluded her grasp. 

“Are you looking for release, or do you simply mean to taunt me?”

There was no anger in her voice. Still, someone incredibly observant could have noticed the slight movement in her lips. An irritated motion. 

“Or perhaps are you just really bad at dying.”

[ dark eyes gazed up at D E A T H ] --- with a hollow look lining the edges. the fragile feeling of yet another living day still remained even with her comforting presence. flashes of shattering his bones against the ground eclipsed his vision and he blinked it rapidly away. yesterday, he died in an alleyway. alone [ always. never. alone ] on cold cement. he didn’t have the grace to die instantly and felt the blood leak from his body for long, dreadful moments. he remembered lungs desperately attempting to pull in frantic breaths, fingers twitching on the ground searching for anyone, eyes staring at nothing. 

[ unseeing but still perceiving the darkness at the edges, twisting into once unimaginable patterns. pulsating. screaming with intensity as they tunneled deep within his mind. there was nothing and yet everything. ]

‘oh yeah,’ he thought as he finished the first cigarette. the second smoldered seconds later. ‘i am bad at dying.’

jamie drops his head. arms coming to rest on spread legs, he takes a moment to breathe. by sunrise all memories of this death will be little more than a nightmare; half-remembered but never really forgotten. “...it’s been years.” he whispers, “years of tryin’ to...well, you know.”

[ the ephemeral deaths ] --- haunt his waking moments. a phantom pain in his chest or the sensation of falling cause him to lose focus during the day; psychosomatic reminders of past attempts. or fated accidents. not every end was by his own hand, after all.

“can’t you do something? snap your fingers ‘nd send me to hell? fuck, obliterate my fucking soul! a real death cuz I really can’t do this-” he stops. breathing out. forcing a calm down his throat to drown the anguish. “do this...anymore. i’m tired.” 

it’s been years.

[recaption]

[missingbruises]

[ another dream where ink pours from between ] --- his lips, dripping black over his waiting fingers, falling through the spaces to the floor. drip, DRIP, drip, DRIP, dripdripdripdripdrip. it came in a slow, undulating and unrelenting wave. he felt it slide up from his stomach, chilling his throat and tongue. where it all came from, he didn’t know. the ink came until a river pooled at his feet. perfectly still and glossy, reflecting the universe above. 

the mirror image of him bleeding black stares up at him, mouthing silent words that reverberates in his soul. [ we died again. ] jamie clenches his eyes shut ---

--- and wakes at 2AM. Death is waiting by the stone bench and they sit together. he smokes, feeling drained, and waits for the sunrise.

                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~•••○X○•••~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [ the feeling of being ] --- here before jars him awake; a violent sense of deja vu that clears the fog from his brain. he wonders if this is a place he goes during the missing hours. it is evening again, as he spent the day hiding in bed, and the neon signs of the city mimic shooting stars.                                                        [ he makes a wish ]

The DREAM MAKER’S shop looms like an omen. jamie sighs and steps inside. the little bell tolls above and instantly the feeling of being watched falls upon him. a mobile of stars and planets catches his attention and he watches it twist and turn in an imaginary breeze. the feeling of falling catches him off guard and he tears his eyes away to a woman behind the counter.

her lips move but he hears nothing. “what...?” his own voice sounds far away so he steps closer. the pressure lifts, his ears pop and the world is filled with sound. he blinks and smiles, feeling a bit better. “uh, sorry. what was that?”

[recaption]

[missingbruises]

[ gasping beneath the waves ] --- he drowns again. the pitch black ocean of death swirls overhead, isolating him from the living, and gravity embraces him like a lover. static fills his veins. the sound of trains pulse through his head. a vignette halos his vision, slowly eating away until nothing is left. [ nothing is left ] but silence. silence and the sensation of falling while lying still. 

[ nothing but silence ] --- and black. he shuts his eyes sinks into the feeling. a deep breath and the inky water coating lungs feels warm, a contrast from the surrounding bone chilling cold. suffused, he mindlessly wonders, ‘is this what love feels like?’ his inky fingers twitch in an attempt to hold on and yet, like the hundreds of times before, fails and ---

wakes up tangled in sheets and slick with sweat and tears. it’s night, 2AM, he knows without looking at the looming red numbers glaring at him from the night stand. he pants, afraid but numb, and waits for the dysesthesia to creep to a manageable level. ‘2AM, always two in the goddamned morning.’

he crawls out of bed and escapes the flat. it was a ritual whenever IT happened; smoke outside on the bench beneath the broken streetlight and wait for the sun to rise. the familiar figure of his favourite neighbour was already there and he sighs in relief. [ deep down he knows she isn’t his neighbour but he refuses to acknowledge what she really means ] jamie pauses to scrub at his face to rid cheeks of tear tracks. he shuffles towards her and collapses on the stone bench.

a lighter flares to life and dies. smoke swirls into the night sky. he looks up and watches, stars in his dark eyes, and wonders when --- “hey. good to see you.”

--- it will end. 

@hvbris

[missingbruises]

[ blog under construction ]

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