_{Send me a ✆ to know your name/ringtone/picture in my character’s mobile.}

_{Name: baek}

_{Ringtone: Far Too Young To Die}

_{Picture: Nothing. There is not even static in this cell. There is nothing here — for there shall never be the same fluctuation of time that would bring the same individual back. There are no exact replicas of an individual in the world — search not for it. There is no final smile or moment to be seen if you peer closer, there is nothing. Not even darkness seeps here.}

_{Send me a ✆ to know your name/ringtone/picture in my character’s mobile.}

_{Name: astr}

_{Ringtone: Try}

_{Picture: Static. Again, his phone is mainly white noise and pixels — he can barely see the time back in his own world. If you’re lucky, you glimpse at the sweetest of smiles, softest of eyes. Look deeper and, amidst the static, you may see the misunderstanding and pain that these eyes fell through. Just maybe}

_{Send me a ✆ to know your name/ringtone/picture in my character’s mobile.}

_{Name: mxrd}

_{Ringtone: Angel with a Shotgun}

_{Picture: Static. His mobile no longer functions as it should. At the worst of times, his whole screen is static; at the best, there’s little battery. In the rare moments, there may be a fizzing image of falling feathers with what appear to be outstretched wings. If you’re lucky, you may see the figure behind those wings, so graceful and proud.} 

_{SEND ME A “♦” FOR THE FIRST WORD MY MUSE THINKS OF WHEN YOUR MUSE IS MENTIONED.}

_Dextrous

                                                                    _{Misunderstood}

_Accomplished

_{SEND ME A “♦” FOR THE FIRST WORD MY MUSE THINKS OF WHEN YOUR MUSE IS MENTIONED.}

_Esoteric

                                                                    _Eximious

_Prevailing

_{SEND ME A “♦” FOR THE FIRST WORD MY MUSE THINKS OF WHEN YOUR MUSE IS MENTIONED.}

_Demure

                                                                     _Delightful

_Captivating

_{Haphephobia — fear of being touched}

_{Dreams are windows to another universe. There your conscious state ventures to different times. Once in a while, they travel towards neighbouring threads where the situation is a mere decimal apart. However, with the coming of a cursed, blue moon, the mind disappears into a land where no one should venture. It flows into a place where the ghosts of the subconsciousness creep.}

_{It is here that nightmares are formed.}

_{Sometimes, it is solitary. Other times, it holds the faces of the thousands that pass through the comprehension of the mind in a lifetime. Of course, none of you could remember these fragments. They aren’t supposed to be recorded after all. These memories, if you must call it, are a part of the confidential files of Father Time.}

_{Retsuya’s eyes fall close, not caring for the place where he slept. He was at home, and that was all that mattered. He could sleep on the floor — and no one would be there. He could nap by the window and no one would realise. Through exhaustion, the mind is trapped in a one way wormhole. This directs the thoughts straight to a dream.}

_{However, time buffers as the mind packs and leaves the physical being.}

_{By the time the day begins to whisper to the coming night, Retsuya’s consciousness is gone. It is standing alone in a world filled with static. The white noise surrounds him, scratching holes into his brain. As abruptly as it arrived, it ceases, leaving him with the ringing of silence.}

_{One step this way — no one. Another step that way — no one.}

_{No matter where he went, there was nothing in existence to inform him of his surroundings. He could scream and throw profanities at the sky but no one would hear. An endless road filled every direction he turned. Beyond them — static.}

_{As this time walked on, Retsuya knew that something was off. Creeping, was the static. Louder was their whispering. Inch by agonizing inch, the unknown white noise made its way towards what appeared to be the epicentre. Centimetre by piercing centimetre something that sounded like footsteps approached him. As with any other dream, he couldn’t move.}

_{With this Retsuya closes his eyes.}

_{But when they say don’t close your eyes, it is because you’d never know what is there when you’d open them. He didn’t know. Peel them open and—}

_{They’re everywhere. Hands, reaching and digging into his soul. They rake at his being, digging deep into his body. As before, his screams are heard by no one. They close about his neck, grasping and redirecting his blood flow. If he knew any better, he could feel his organs being re-organized. As before, his begs for it to all end are heard by no one. They went past his mind, screaming and laughing. But there’s one.}

_{All but one static figure.}

_{“I’m sorry.”}

yisins:

_{The white, almost crystaline sand dug at his wet feet as he wandered to and fro through the shores; the water is cold, but it numbs his little heart and the nostalgia slowly coming into his mind. The foaming waves and icy water reminds him of his past in the stars and his past at the bottom of the ocean. It was all much colder than this, and so he could always endure such a feeling. The tides are driven by the moon and the waves are driven by the ocean, that is how he came to fell in love with the sea. It is his home, and a place where the celestial forces meet with mother nature. It is a divine gate connecting the Earth and the skies. Yixing dived into the water and swam in the freezing cold for hours on end. He swam until the sun high in the skies began to fall deep asleep. Sunset came with an orange glow. Then the moon came with a pale smile. He saw a few people pass by here and there, but they were fisher men heading home: nothing out of the ordinary. The beach site became desolate like a desert again. Him, the moon, the water — and a silhouette of someone staring out at the sea.}

_{Every sense was clouded with tranquillity. Through the lapping waves, the whispering evening and the hymns of the ocean breeze, Yongguk’s mind came to halt. The memories no longer tipped over his floodgates. Heaving out the sigh that held within himself, Yongguk let his body drop onto the sandy shores. It didn’t matter that the sand was clinging to his clothing. It didn’t matter that the moisture in the sand was becoming apparent on his hands. His senses were overwhelmed by the faint foreignism that seemed to drift about the air. To him, it was wind that travelled the globe — wind that held little secrets from another line.  These little secrets kept his consciousness locked up within his mind. They danced and told the stories of millions. These secrets spoke of what they saw in other words — the simplicity, the similarity, the difference, the beauty and the tragedy. Somehow, it was all so sweet. With his thoughts still casted out with the waves, he didn’t comprehend the fact that he was staring. By the time these dancing stories left his mind, the evening had whipered goodbye and the night had come to play once more. Yet there, out with the travelling secrets was something. Unable to make out exactly what it was, Yongguk strained his eyes — it moved, breaking the mirror-like surface of the water; it breathed, the sounds mixing with that of the breeze.}