#formidnight

[whitelai]

@formidnight

“don’t you know what its like?” her voice is nearly drowned out among the ambiance. this is a shred of vulnerability shared in this transient moment, and it belongs to them and them alone. “to feel like you don’t belong? to leave everything you knew for a restart? but you end up carrying the same feelings over to this new slate and…” she trails off because she’s hyperaware of the rambling. but it felt more like the words were spilling out from her, because there was no where for them to stay, and she was just so full of fear and longing and hazed ambitions that it seemed there was not much room for anything else.

at least she had the strength not to blatantly cry. she had to give herself that much.

“say that this all falls through: life and what have you. i can’t go home. can’t go back there, back to that –” cesspool of occult and oddities? that was accurate, but not something she could say out loud. “anyway. everything is a variable and nothing matters and i don’t have a place to call home. there, is that what you wanted to hear?” this would be the closest she could get to a tantrum, really, her placid nature had her operating at a steady constance because she was taught to internalize and never show your cards lest they be used against you.

she sighs before burying her face into the crook of her elbow.

“tell me its going to be alright. that i’m exaggerating. and annoying. and i need to shut up.”

god damn it. again. 

he’s been sloshing in puddles of everyone’s blues way too much for, let’s see, however long. time’s not a concept to a boy without a home, without regulations. but at any rate, coming back to this scene, he’s tired. tired of inutile sentiments and woes.

“what d’you want me to say? i physically don’t have a home.”  the reply comes without a speck of heed, his eyes occupied on everything around him but her. he relates to everything single word she’s said, unfortunately, but he thrashes them away because let’s be honest: none of it fucking matters anymore! ‘home’ is nothing but a drab, full of carnalities masked away with smiles of the devil. it makes him sick in the stomach, almost making him nauseous with tableaus of dirty pool in head.

he’s never been more glad to not have a home.

“you can either run back, or stay. stop whining and wiping out in the middle, you’re wasting your time.”

[citry]

@formidnight: 

( ... )

when she was an actual child, she never spent much time at the park. coming too close to it would make the hairs on the back of her neck stand, like an ominous weight would settle in her bones and tell her that she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. in the end, the entire town avoided the sole park and it became a resting ground for the stray statues that had no place to be. perhaps she’d missed a relatively large chunk of experience since the suburban neighborhoods are littered with them, all settled with a dust of nostalgia coating them. he had a point, she had to admit. perhaps the little girl from the strange town wanted a taste of normalcy, too.

“but hey, i’ll humor you. if you really do break a bone though, you’ll owe me one for dragging you to the hospital.” she gives way and steps forward, fitting her shoes into the iron rungs and hefts herself up so she was finally standing leveled with him. “so, are you going to let me push you down this slide, or what?”

He isn’t sure if this is anything close to a good idea, but his life has been built on whims and unknowns, and this isn’t out of the ordinary. In fact, it’s familiar to him: the sand seeping into shoes, the plastic rubbing too hard against skin, and Haru, a meter too far from him, close but never close enough.

It’s like she exists in another universe outside of his own, from the one they currently inhabit. 

She speaks of shadows and the light like he’s never known, and will never know them; speaks of things he’ll never know, for good or other. He’s known her for years, and still can’t manage to figure out what her smile is a proxy to, if anything at all.

“Okay, but I like adult-you and I also know adult-you has a fun side somewhere that will appreciate a good time at a playground as great as this one. At least I’m like eighty-nine percent sure of it.” He steps towards her instead of away, giving her a grin: all too boyish, and nothing of the man he could possibly be. “Now find that kid inside of you and let her out. You’re making her go coo-coo with all this adult talk.”

He takes a seat at the edge of the slide, turning around to give her a smile of his own. His own smile is real, the kind that has no proxy. “Now push me down this slide before I push you instead.” 

[tsdrats]

( continued w/ @formidnight )

to his mother, drifting with no responsibility or no dream is horrifying. to his mother, drifting about without owing something to someone or without something to fill sooner or later - it’s treachery. to the family, to the self, to everything about the existence. to haneul, that sounds alright. sounds like something he tries to grasp for, wandering around seoul, skipping classes and only showing up for work. that’s just as tiring, a little liberating when he doesn’t think about his responsibilities. but it’s there.

it’s always there. and he thinks it’s all that ties him to the earth. attached movement, stringy and stuck. that’s not so bad.

he’s smiling though, kicking his legs out over the edge and humming each time a breeze passes over. sometimes they’re silent, preferring to let the wind talk to them and the sky roll with them. sometimes he asks questions, sometimes she does. they haven’t gotten to the general questions, school and work and stuff. responsibilities of the body and stuff. and that’s good. he likes that. “clouds have responsibilities too.” that’s mumbled low, because he doesn’t think it’s something he needs to explain. somehow, he hopes she understands. that he gets what she says too and he might be a little envious of the clouds.

he still loves them.

“i imagine it’s a little lonesome, tiresome, and a little wholesome too. because the loose ones, well aren’t they trying to catch up to the whole ones, and they’re lonely until they’re whole, but then they’re too whole and they spill. that’s a lot to go through over a few days.” but they must know it and they do it. and it’s graceful. haneul thinks clouds have it best of all. “can you imagine how that feels? being with everyone but being all of you?”

[rarenight]

waning, full moon, contemplation

late night self reflective asks 🌙 · accepting

waning: what is your biggest regret?

may 8, 1842

"i refuse."

chrystal stares apathetically at the victorian tea kettle she had to borrow from one of her european counterparts. she’s tired. the derailing between bellevue and meudon is some exciting news after nearly a decade’s worth of work witnessing deaths from malnutrition and disease, but it’s still a tragedy, and tragedies comes with extensive hours. this is her twelfth case from this particular event alone (which is ridiculous considering the initial fifty upon impact). it’s not the first time a soul has refused to move on — humans were (and are) an incredibly emotional bunch — so she’s quite well-versed in keeping her patience by this point in time.

humans. fools.

she straightens her back as she pours the concocted tea into a small teacup and turns to the soul seated at the table, careful to place the warm brew atop unbalanced nails on flattened driftwood scrap. she speaks quietly with a purpose, a clip in her enunciated speech, as she takes a seat opposite the soul.

"your time on earth has come to an end. this is your last reincarnation, so this drink is only a formality. whether you—"

"i refuse. have you no compassion and solicitude that my life is being robbed from my very own hands? i am only now a lady, and i only foresee a life of misery for my lord-in-waiting should i not retu—"

"your supposed lord has passed on with you from the locomotive fire, though he has a couple of reincarnates left in him. your extravagant wish of returning to the world is beyond my means, and quite frankly, beyond what is plausible."

the reaper’s eyes never waver from the soul in front of her. humans. fools. she herself was a fool before, in her earlier years working in her room alone. the very same soul in front of her had begged to be granted one more chance at life in a previous manifestation — she had been a he the first time chrystal picked up the assignment, and his pleading eyes cut through to her core. she had been weak, and reapers were not and are not weak creatures. her punishment had been extended, and the physical pains from the aftermath of her decision to grant him his literal dying wish still linger in the cricks of her neck.

she was a fool then. she will not be a fool now. chrystal raises a hand to mask the soul’s mouth shut, her workspace now quiet. her eyes narrow. she will not be a fool now. she will not be a fool now.

full moon: what type of person do you hope to be?

she hopes she was a good person in her past. she knows it’s impossible considering her role as reaper.

contemplation: if you could wake up one morning and everything in your life was perfect, what would that look like?

had this question been asked during the first century of soojung’s bout as a reaper, she would have immediately said to be a human once more. at this time in her life though, a perfect life would be that cold soju bottle with a coworker at the pojangmacha down the street. a perfect life would be inebriated hopes of even having hopes.

(okay, maybe a perfect life wouldn’t necessarily mean being a human again, but sometimes being blissfully ignorant is better than being hardened by time.)

[inhyelation]

11-11, shooting star,earth

late night self reflective asks 🌙  x. // not accepting

11-11: what’s something you want, but feel like you will never have?

a variable that isn’t a variable. consistency. 

shooting star: who is someone you trust to help you make the right decisions?

hyuk. and then kiel ( this is… really a 50/50 depending on the situation, but she’ll always ask ).

earth: where do you feel most at home?

here.

[jackgjamba-blog]

#ready #formidnight ????? 😁 #happynewyear !!!! (presso Ligonchio)