#tsdrats

( and he speaks ! : ) inwoo, in his most natural environment, was perhaps blending in too well. him and the dusty city make a good concoction of monotony with his ragged black shirt, washed-out jeans and converse shoes that’s been worn a hundred too many times. he is a speck of dust in this city, after-all! and in such wise, he lets his dear friend swing past by him and straight down the road without a single word of ‘hey,’ or ‘how did you not notice me here, you blind nitwit,’ because there is a time and place for such conventional greetings.

instead, he strolls along down, quiet as he could ever get. in truth he never is, but he is because he has a very good reason. he stares at the back of haneul’s light brown hair, his neck, and down to this dusky figure that obviously has a whole load of adoration for whom its holding onto. it’s one awful spook to carry on anyone’s back, really! and inwoo can’t help but to give it an involuntary grimace until it stares right back in his eyes.

he tries to start out the interaction with the most benevolent look on his face, pointing at his friend and letting it know that this is a quite troublesome situation for him (a.k.a don’t make me whip out my talisman,). but the smart poltergeist knows inwoo can’t do much without much tools in his hands, and snorts him off. nevertheless, the luck’s on the ghost boy’s side—because he has his handy dandy rid-of-ghosts-without-any-bells method he’s been using since whoever knows when (since his birth, possibly,) mustering up his primarily non-existent bliss. he gives the she-ghost a big, wide smile along with a beam of optimism (note: they hate rays of sunshine; by that, both literally and figuratively,) that seems to have an effect with the sizzles of her fume.

she gives him a bothered scowl, not bothered enough but enough for her to briefly whisk away from its vassal. and now for the real challenging part of this situation—giving his friend the talk. the talk that might give both ends a bad ending for the day, or for the whole length of their friendship as a whole. inwoo just can’t jump right into it, no matter how carefree he is about everything and anything. but at the end, he ends up deciding to touch on the subject, even if it’s the most subtle, indistinct way of doing it. he chews on the corner of his lower lip, scratching on the back of his head for that moment of contemplation (procrastination) before reaching his hand out for a bold tap.

I can hear you loud and clear. 

Her delicate fingers trail the surface of the strong tempered glass, her button nose nearly pressing against it as if she’d close the distance between her and the floating jellyfish. To her students, Eunjin would describe said marine animals as dangerous with stings that could be potentially deadly, but was that too much? It’s not like jellyfish intentionally wanted to hurt humans. Perhaps what they wanted was a caregiver, a friend. Someone willing to lend them an ear. 

Eunjin’s doe eyes follow a certain jellyfish ahead of her, never leaving its position around the petite girl. She wonders why it’s not following the rest of the other jellyfish, and then it hits her.

I know you’re communicating with me. You’re lonely, aren’t you? 

Her inner thoughts cause her eyes to sadden, spotting the change in her reflection on the glass. Was she emphasizing with a jellyfish? 

Haneul’s question brings her back to reality, resulting in her shaking her head and closing her eyes tightly before returning to her usual self. “Names for the fishes? I don’t see why not. I don’t think they’ll have much freedom now that they’re here, don’t you say?” 

The warm smile her lips formed disappear at the sight of the jellyfish, this time, retreating to the rest of its school. Her hands against the glass soon find themselves back to her sides.

You’re not alone.

“Did you know jellyfish are immortal?” She pauses, looking back at her friend as the dim blue light hit the side of her face. The entire room was blue, literally. 

late night self reflective asks 🌙 · accepting

galaxies: what are three things you want to do before you die?

                    《 ※ 》     LIPS PRESS TIGHTLY together as he stares across at the younger male all bundled up nicely beneath the blanket — he should probably get one since he feels like he’ll need it. Not because he was cold, but it gave him some sort of comfort, like protection. ❝  Of course I want to watch the documentary, that’s why I asked.  ❞ Sangcheol had a bad track record of scaring himself shit less at times, particularly when it came to video games or horror movies. Murder documentaries didn’t fall far from the tree when it comes to things that would frighten him. But there was always something so thrilling — that rush he gets whenever he watches things like that. Perhaps he gets too invested, too engaged that when the scares or the suspense kicks in and he’s nearly falling off from where he sat.  ❝  Aish ! Of course I can handle them ! (  to a certain degree  ). ❞ The ginger head is tempted to extend his arm out and forcefully push the ball of blankets with Haneul in it over, but doesn’t. Instead, his head turns upwards, nose pointed towards the ceiling and he’s huffing at the thought. Granted, he’ll probably regret watching this later when he couldn’t comfortably settle into bed, the incessant image of a murder playing out in his mind. 

@tsdrats​ | kali uchis - after the storm (ft. tyler, the creator & bootsy collins) 

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

earth: where do you feel most at home?

here.

soothe: what’s one thing that always makes you feel better when you’re upset?

[ 03.08.17 ]“ahjumma, i’m here.”

doorbells chime, familiar and soft. the place has long since emptied out, but the back light never shuts off. not until hyeri stops by.

“what’s our puppy doing here so late?”

there’s no immediate response. instead, she drops her bag onto the floor. saunters over and curls up on the sofa, head dropped in her lap, forehead pressed to her stomach. ahjumma smells like peeled vegetables and a warm, warm kitchen. hyeri sighs and buries her nose in her apron, arms coming around to cling at her waist.

“ahjumma.”“yes, hyeri.” a cool hand drifts across her forehead. she can feel the parts of her palm where the knife handle has calloused over soft skin.

“something’s wrong. something. i just don’t know what, ahjumma.”

( something here, as she guides her hand over her head. over her heart. why am i so tired? )

there are fingers so gentle that hyeri barely feels them working through a loose knot in her hair. it cascades over ahjumma’s thighs and pools in a dark mess at the edge of the sofa. she nuzzles closer, closes her eyes. it’s quiet for a while.

“you give all these pieces of yourself away to everyone you meet.”“not to everyone.”“you’re gonna have nothing left.” 

hyeri tightens her hold. before she lets go in her subconscious. before she slips away in a faraway dream. 

“yeah,”( something here. )“but at least i’ll still have you.”

night light: who/what makes you feel safe?

“you,” and he’s pointing the ladle at her to emphasis his point, spilling some soup everywhere on the counter but that’s to be expected. he’s still a little sleepy and he’s not too sure why he’s up or attempting soup at ungodly hours.

it should be noted it’s a little past noon. that’s ungodly when he has the day off. all that matters is that sleep still pulls at the corners of his eyes when he tries too hard to seem awake. so he votes for looking out half-closed lids and answering in small slurs and yawns. it’s not too different from daily haneul, but he’s trying right?

“you must be asking the wrong people for snuggles my friend.” because she’s a friend and that must be why he’s awake, or why he’s opened the door. why his apartment looks some sort of decent and isn’t carrying that too much laundry smell. the one where he runs around with half a sock on spraying air freshener around the living room.

he’s actually been decent today, actually brushed his teeth when everything around him didn’t melt into one. when he could smell that his apartment’s state wasn’t appropriate for anyone, not even a friend. ladies too but haneul isn’t too sure of the etiquette for that.

point is, he cleaned.

“what’s the struggles this time hmm?” the end comes out as a full yawn, one that almost ends with the ladle smacking him in the face, but he recovers. “angry customers, scary new professors? woke up and had a baby duckling follow you because it hatched in your laundry basket?” point is, he’s trying. smiling too so that’s a plus.

Warm liquid spilled about splashed on herself, having her wipe away the minor mess with her fingers before using her own shirt as a napkin. It was gross, but at that moment it wasn’t the time to be focus elsewhere when she had a problem of her own. Why did she go to Haneul in the first place again?

A tiny bit of soup remained on her hair, going completely unnoticed by the petite girl. Instead, she leans onto the counter, taking a tiny peek of his soup before looking away when caught. A inaudible mumble escapes from her chapped lips, caused by its enemy being winter itself.

“Oh no, that’s not my problem.” Her elbows rest upon the counter to support her chin in hand. A certain person came to mind, memories of warm cuddling coming into play. She attempts to shake off her thoughts. “I’m getting all the snuggles in the world lately, believe me. In fact, the snuggles itself help me forget the problems I’ve been having.”

Another memory from literally minutes ago crossed her mind, the moment she arrived to Haneul’s door. It was the closest area she could find when out and about that morning; why not go to a friend when in need of something?

“That’s not it, either.” A pout is formed, pink colored nose (caused by the common cold) sniffing the air around her like a curious puppy. She couldn’t smell a thing. Not the soup, not the air freshener spotted behind a box of cereal, nothing. A deep sigh heaves from her lips along with quiet words, “How great.”