#still have an amalgamation of songs from that stuck in my head as that’s all I’ve been listening to since Monday is the soundtrack | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pearl-pilots-in-chains · 3 years

Text

Come to My Window (All the Little Lights #2)

Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Ships: Asurei

Rating: T

Summary: Rei doesn't like summers much. She usually ends up spending most of her time alone. One afternoon, an open window changes things. Meanwhile, Asuka's unpacking is going great . . . just great. She's just about had enough when she's distracted by the sound of a familiar song.

Notes: It's time for Asurei to Asurock! This is the second part of my All the Little Lights Evangelion high school AU. A slight warning, there's some content in this fic that might be offensive/triggering. I tried to avoid getting too graphic or dark, but there are some clear depictions of depression and bullying, as well as allusions to familial issues. I just wanted to make sure I put a bit of a disclaimer. That being said, I think those parts are important to Rei's character, so I didn't want to leave them out.

The first song Asuka recognizes Rei playing in this fic is "Always With Me, Always With You," by Joe Satriani, and the band shirt Asuka is wearing in this fic is based on the art to the album "Karmacode" by Lacuna Coil.

This was originally posted to my AO3 on May 25, 2020. Hope you enjoy!

___________________________________________________________

Rei slumped down into the chair, letting her head fall back, her gaze tilting upward, until she was scrutinizing the ceiling. The faux-sky formed on it looked down on her, the painted stars flares of cream and flame that sliced out of the navy base. She thought it was a nice view. It had the power to draw her back, pulling away years to reach innocent memories. She could recall when the sky was first cast onto her ceiling. It had been her father’s idea, and it was his hand that brought it to life. She remembered watching him from her bed, sitting on top of the plastic wrap they had laid down, crinkling the glossy tarp between her fingers. It half-seemed to be a fragment of another world, a remnant of a different life. Now, the mural served as the sole reminder that her father’s presence had once filled her room.

She had thought about asking Shinji to help her paint over the false sky. She knew there was a can of paint in the garage that could match the ceiling’s original shade well enough. She could return it all to a blank canvas. Erase the constellations, fill the vacuum with blinding light. And yet, she never asked. She wasn’t sure Shinji would be willing to help if the request was made. There was a picture on top of his bookcase. It wasn’t in the front. Its frame stood behind one that displayed Shinji and Toji after a track meet, celebrating their respective performances. But it was still there, half in hiding, half revealed. She knew the day it had been taken. December 24, 2000. On the eve of their last Christmas as a quartet. Her memories of that day were nebulous, lost to the childhood haze that the painting day had managed to emerge from. The picture spoke enough to make up for the lack of recollections though.

Her mother was holding Rei in her lap. Rei was looking away from the camera, down at the floor. She looked far wiser, far sadder that a child should. She looked as though she knew too much. Yui was looking up towards the camera, a smile plastered on her face that failed to hide its fraudulent nature. It was took curved, too hooked, too forced. The eyes told the truth. Distant, worried, ashamed. Shinji was sitting by Gendo. He was trying to imitate his father, pressing his face into an amalgamation of the mask the adult wore. It was a shoddy disguise though, as his lips looked seconds away from tremble, and there was water in the corner of his eyes. Gendo wore the true mask. His gaze bored directly into the lens’s eye, staring it down, as though he was willing the time to work correctly through sheer willpower and determination alone. Or, perhaps he was merely compensating. The tinted glasses he normally sported were nowhere to be seen, which left his eyes naked, exposed, without a shield to fume behind. It was possible that the tight, angry smile which ripped through his lips and the needling glare in his iris were designed to make up for this. They had the opposite effect, however. Whereas his traditional spectacles contained and concealed some degree of his emotions, his posturing revealed the true extent of them. His spite, his wrath, his pride, all laid bare.

As a general rule, Rei didn’t keep photos in the same way her brother did. He had a greater appreciation for the physical mementos, the tangible preservation of a moment for posterity. Rei treasured the fleeting nature of seconds, minutes, days. The ephemeral essence of life. The truth that nothing was everlasting, nothing endured. Consequently, there were three pictures in her room. One of her standing by the front door, the day before her first day of elementary school. She looked brave in it. It wasn’t just a front, Rei realized. She had felt brave that day. Time had taught her, however, that there was a thin line between bravery and foolishness.

The second picture showed Shinji and Rei, mouths broken in laughter, dancing through the backyard, Shinji lunging out in an attempt to tap her shoulders. They had been playing hide-and-go-tag, as they referred to it, and he had found her secret spot behind the rose garden. Yui had snapped the shot the moment before Shinji discovered that his sister was faster than he had anticipated, and had ended up face down in the grass after his ill-fated leap.

The last picture was the newest of the three, though now passing the age of six years, another family photo. This one was dated August 16, 2005. The smiles were more genuine, even if they looked more worn. Gendo was over four years absent.

Shinji visited his father. He had since second grade. Sometimes once every other weekend, sometimes once a month, depending on how their schedules worked out. Rei never visited. She hadn’t seen Gendo in person in a decade. She was perfectly fine with her only memories of him being mostly vague, indefinite impressions of youth. They were painful enough as they were. She didn’t want to imagine having concrete memories.

Yui had never made either of them visit him. She never would. She understood while Rei chose not. If anything, she understood better than Rei herself. Rei was truthful unsure why Shinji chose to go. Perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of regret, perhaps out of pity, perhaps some combination of the three. Whatever it was, Shinji chose to see his father, and Rei chose not to ask her brother to help remove the last physical trace of their father from her space.

Even beyond Shinji though, Rei felt a reluctance to erase the ceiling, to restore it to its first form. Her mind shied away from the choice, became anxious, and fell silent. Rei knew far, far too much about anxious silences.

She was the “Silent Ikari,” after all. That was one of the names which had been ascribed to her. One of the kinder ones, really. She was never called them to her face, of course. Not that people said much of anything to her face. She supposed that it might be out of respect for her brother, the Ikari most people liked. But they still spoke, in voices loud enough and near enough for her to make their ‘observations’ out. Maybe they thought she was as deaf as she seemed mute. Maybe they just didn’t care if she heard. After all, they could reason that she had no real ‘excuse’ for being withdrawn, closed-off, that ‘emo girl in the corner.’ She just thought she was ‘too good for them.’ The genius who was smart enough to have skipped a grade, who could probably skip another, but ‘just didn’t feel like it.’ The one who all the teachers thought was practically perfect, even if they worried she was ‘a little on the quiet side.’ The one who had a friendly, and moderately popular brother, but was herself too ‘stuck up’ to even bother talking with anyone. And if they didn’t play up that she was cold and arrogant, they played up that something was wrong with her. That she ‘wasn’t all there,’ or had never figured out ‘how to be a human.’ There were words that stung even more, especially when she was younger, when she learned what they meant, but she preferred not to reiterate them in her mind. She didn’t need to give the speakers that power, that lasting blow. All the same, a memory crept into her head unbidden.

It was one of the first times she had sat away from Shinji and his friends. She had felt like a burden to her brother, and she had been tired of always hanging on to him, even if he had never minded. Even if he had wanted nothing more than to make sure she was okay. He was smart enough to know her reputation, even if people avoided saying things in front of him. He had gotten into a fight, a real fight, with someone who he had called a friend before it, over a passing comment the friend had made about Rei when he thought Shinji wasn’t paying attention. After that, Rei had decided to give her brother space. She didn’t want to be the weight that he felt bound by. She didn’t want to be the shadow that he felt as though he had to protect. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he had understood and agreed when she had talked to him. If there was one undeniable fact about her brother, it was that he always did his best to empathize, even when it was clearly difficult for him.

She had picked out a table along the fringe of the room to sit at. Somewhere out of the way, to avoid unwanted attention. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. She never had. But by then, it had seemed too late to change the perception of the faces she saw. The disregard, the amusement, the disgust. They had seemed immutable. And so, she hadn’t tried. She had done her best to be invisible. Because it was easier than fighting against a tide than felt overwhelming. She was too afraid of drowning to do otherwise.

She had heard the boy’s conversation with his friends before he approached her. Her hearing had always been above average, and when you heard your name spoken in first cautious, and then careless, tones behind your back, you got used to honing in on it. There had been a dare. A bet as to whether or not he could get a date with the ‘broken girl.’ They had all been at the age where suddenly, exploring previous unknown urges and interests seemed of the upmost importance. Well, most of them had been. She hadn’t. She still wasn’t. Not in the same way, anyhow, or to the same degree. At least, she didn’t think so. They spoke of crushes, and flirting, and love, and sex, like objects on fire, that burned the skin when they were handled, but were worth the flame. She thought of them in muted terms, as though she was touching the same once-scorching objects, but after they had passed beneath a waterfall, the flames all-but vanquished, only the occasional ember remaining. They were safer to hold, to handle, but the appeal, the allure in the danger, was gone, their extinguished state irrevocable.

His stance had been casual as he walked over, but there was a cruel, cocksure glint in his eye. His tone betrayed just what he thought of her, and what he thought of himself. She was an object, a means to an end (the money involved in the bet), and that was all. He was the lad who was going to win the bet, and she should feel lucky to be used for that purpose.

“Hey.” His tone had dripped smooth self-importance, self-exaggeration. “I’m Maximilian.” He had used his full name, not the Max he went by, as though he could make her persuade by the sheer power of possessing what he no doubt thought was an ‘exotic’ name.

“Hello.” Her reply had been quiet, not really timid, though it could have been mistaken for such. Any who had been less caught up in himself would have recognized that it instead bespoke that she had no interest in talking to him, was aware of what he was doing, and want no part of it.

“I’m going to sit here.” It hadn’t been a question, hadn’t been a request, had been a statement, had almost been a command. A command to accept the fact that she was in his presence, and should treat him with the respect his conceited conscience told him he deserved.

She hadn’t said anything in response to that at first. He had taken that as the acceptance he desired, and taken the seat across from her. “So, you’re Rei, right?” The tone was aggressive, as though he was going to dismiss whatever she said, because he was certain he knew who she was. She had imagined that if she said, simply to deny him, he would have ignored it and preceded ahead as though she had said ‘yes.’ He had been the type of boy who could go either one of two ways. On one hand, he could cross too hard of a line earlier enough that he still had a chance to learn how to be something better. On the other hand, he could grow up to be a man who refused to acknowledge refusals, because he felt he has the right to what he wants. The worst kind of person, Rei thought. The kind who thought that others very selves were second to their own desires. Rei wasn’t sure which path he had ended up taking, but she was very glad that they had gone to different high schools, although she felt bad for whoever ended up being the target of his interests there.

Instead of saying ’no,’ or merely staying silent, Rei had cut to the chase. “I don’t want to go out with you. Please leave me alone.”

This had thrown him for a loop. That much had been clear. He had expected her to at least hear him out. His opinion of himself was high enough that he hadn’t even considered outright disregard, the very same treatment he had intended to give her. The result of course, had been that he had become angry. Furious, really, she imagined, though his sheer pride kept him from making a scene, considering he cared too much for his image as the ‘cool guy.’ Instead, he had leaned in, breaking into her bubble, to spit the words in her face. “You don’t know what you’re missing, stupid bitch. It’s not like anyone ever going to ask out a freak like you. The most attention you’ll ever get will be from some white coat in a psych ward.”

She hadn’t flinched. She had known that it would be her downfall if she did. That breaking was what he wanted, her visible suffering was what he was craving in that moment. He had realized she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction after a few seconds, and strolled off, still cocky, but surely fuming internally over the fact that he hadn’t managed to get a reaction out of her. Not a twitch in her lips, a blink in her eyes, something to show that she was shattering beneath the calm exterior. Not that she wasn’t. She just knew how to delay the collapse. It had happened later that day, in the safety and solitude of her room, a silent sort of disintegration. No tears, no screams. Just a widening hollow feeling that consumed her from the pit of her stomach, reaching up into her chest cavity, groping at her lungs, sucking the air into, folding her in on herself until she felt small enough to simply stop existing altogether. It wasn’t an uncommon experience in those days. Before she learned how to grow numb to the words, numb to the spite. That came later though. You had to experience enough pain, enough cover crumbling, to learn how to ignore the barbs that brought it on.

She had never told her brother about that particular incident. She hadn’t wanted him to start another fight on her account. She wasn’t sure if he had ever found out. She guessed it was likely he had, although she wasn’t sure what he had done about it (though she thought it was probable he had done something).

The abuse had never been physical, never public, rarely direct. There had been no retaliation for that incident either. She supposed on all accounts that it was because people were afraid of what her brother might do. Or perhaps not her brother, but more accurately, her brother’s friends. She liked them for the most part. The track team members her brother was close to were an anomaly, in that they were some of few decent people she had ever met in the schools she had attended. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. Knowing that she didn’t have to worry about making her brother choose between his sister and his friends. At least not anymore. He had discarded the ones that had tried to sway him away from the familial choice. She supposed then, that he had already made his decision. She felt guilty for that. She felt guilty often, when it came to her brother, and what she perceived as the difficulties she brought into his life. She knew how much he worried for her. Worried that she was afraid, worried that she was hurting, worried that was lonely.

The most painful part of the guilt was knowing the her brother’s fears weren’t altogether unfounded. No, she supposed, they weren’t unfounded at all. She would characterize her feelings as more anxious than afraid, but the other two concerns she knew he held were accurate. The latter led to the former, in a way. She had discovered there was nothing quite like the feeling of isolation, of division from others, to exacerbate preexisting pain. To make it metastasize, grow into something greater than itself. Seclusion bred sorrowful things when it revealed what was latent.

She had never had her brother’s power with people. He had a natural sort of charisma about him, as awkward as he could be at times. He seemed to draw people to him. More important though, words came easy to him. He could carry a conversation when it dashed against rocks, and somehow bring it out to the far side relatively unscathed. Whether it was a matter of skill, or a matter of luck, social things seemed to turn out positive rather than negative for him more often than not.

Words had never come easy to her. Not when she was talking to someone other than her mother or her brother. She could read cues, interpret signs, and understand context well enough, but there was somehow a disconnect when it came to putting all of that into play when encoding something herself. Ironically, and perhaps appropriately, she couldn’t articulate why. She only knew that it made everything harder. That the persona she conveyed caused people to say she was ‘cold,’ or ‘dead,’ or ‘inhuman.’ Those her knew her well knew this wasn’t the case, but aside from her family, the only people who fell into that category were Shinji’s closest friends, who had spent enough time with him, and by extension, with Rei when she was around, that they read her demeanor differently. She didn’t really have friends of her own, she knew that much. It had been that way since she was a child. She had worried her teachers in kindergarten by the fact that she seemed to turn away all the kids who tried to connect with her. This hadn’t changed, and by the time she headed to junior high, no one tried anymore. The teachers had kept worrying of course, but as she got older, this worry had been offset by their satisfaction and appreciation of her academic performance; apparently, at the end of the day, even elementary school teachers cared more about a child’s grades than her ability to fit into classroom society.

She hadn’t understood it then. Hadn’t understood why her responses, her reactions shut others down. It was only after hearing the covert comments too many times that she had realized what other people thought of her. And by then, the road to remake her reputation had seemed entirely too insurmountable.

That perspective had resulted in her leading a life that was half-spent in sequestration. The silver lining to that, of which she constantly reminded herself, was that she had devoted plenty of time to pursuing her passions, even if it was at a solo capacity. The filled bookcases in her room were one testament to that. The filled folders on her laptop were another, and the guitar resting in its stand by her desk was a third. The lack of company had done wonders for her creativity, she supposed. Was it a worthy exchange though? That was all in the eye of the beholder.

Pulling her gaze away from the ceiling, Rei brought it to rest on the guitar sitting by the desk. The chrome elements of Stratocaster-imitation form glistened in the sunlight from the window above her desk, opened to let the breeze flow in (a partially successful attempt to offset the heat without resorting to blasting the AC, because Rei preferred a more natural solution). She knew it would be at the earliest, four hours before her brother made it home. His shifts had been extended recently, on account of another employee quitting. And of course, her mother wouldn’t be home for at least another hour after that, a timetable that had become the new normal over the past several months. There wasn’t much for her to do in the meantime. Shinji was officially the house chef, because he argued that it was a way for him to ‘destress,’ which was his way of saying that cooking was one of his favorite pastimes, and that he didn’t want anyone else in the kitchen, which he had unofficially declared his ‘dignified domain’ in one of his more emphatic (and comedic) moments.

Rei didn’t particularly like summers, primarily because of how empty they often ended up feeling. This summer had been particularly forlorn one, as with her brother spending nearly all of his time either working or in the company of his new friend Kaworu (she suspected that the her brother and the ashen-hair boy would be dating soon, not that she resented Kaworu; from the two brief interactions she had had with him, he seemed quite nice actually), she had been left to her own devices for days on end. At this point, her routines, as much as she appreciated them, had begun to feel somewhat monotonous. She had taken to browsing blogs lately, in search of a new potentially hobby she could try out to add some diversity to her day, but so far, she hadn’t had much lucky finding anything that she had gravitated toward with any great enthusiasm. She had briefly considered trying out her hand at archery, before swiftly coming to the conclusion that as enticing as her visions of Legolasesque prowess were, the actual effort that would undoubtedly be required to achieve any degree of proficiency wasn’t something she quite felt up to. The fact that even if she did manage to become a competent archer, her chances of being able to skate down a staircase atop a shield would most likely remain negligible was also a bit of a buzzkill. And so, at least for the moment, her current hobbies would have to suffice. She decided that tomorrow, she would take a walk down to Off the Shelf! If she was going to stick with what she knew, it wouldn’t hurt to at least get some new reading material. Well, new to her anyway.

With a barely audible sigh proceeding from her lips, Rei pushed herself up and out of her chair, and left the corner of the room, strolling over to her desk lackadaisically. She retrieved her guitar from its stand and plugged it into her practice amp, positioned alongside the desk. Flipping the amp on and turning the volume to a decent level, satisfied with her other levels. She then set herself down in her desk chair and rolled her volume knob up. She paused for a few seconds, thinking of a good song selection. After a moment, she made her decision.

The first palm muted notes sprung out from the guitar as she picked through the intro, before launching into the melody itself, the pensive tone pervading the room. She allowed the traces of a smile to steal onto her face. It was a beautiful song. One which promise never to leave, never to vanish. One whose titled she liked to think vowed to be with her always. It was a piece she was content to return to. That always seemed to make her day a little less lonely.

Perhaps then, the particular events brought about by her playing that afternoon could only be considered highly appropriate. If one was to take this view, then perhaps it could be called an act of fate, rather than a mere coincidence, that Rei did not think to close her window before she started playing on that particular occasion, something which she habitually did, half out of shyness and doubt of her own talent (unfounded doubt, of course, as anyone who had heard her play could attest to), and part out of respect for her the elderly couple who lived next door, whom she suspected were probably not fans of some of the more ‘enthusiastic’ music she played (which was to say, progressive metal). It would, however, be unfair to Rei to blame her for failing to realize that the elderly couple had moved across the country several months before to live closer to their family. It wasn’t as if she interacted with them frequently, or in fact, paid much attention to them at all. They had kept to themselves, something which she also did. On the other hand, a better case could be made to label Rei a bit on the oblivious side for not noticing the new neighbors who had moved in several days before. That had been a bit more of an affair, though not one which either Yui or Shinji could have been aware of, considering it occurred during the day while they were both absent. Rei, on the other hand, had no such excuse. Her excuse would be, if one were to ask her for it, was that she had been particularly engrossed in rereading one of her favorite books on that specific day, which was in fact true. All the same, it meant that she was unaware of her new neighbors. And furthermore, unaware that one of them would soon hear her playing. And of course, logically, this also meant she was unaware that her life was about to change. However, a lack of awareness rarely averts something from happening, and it certainly did not in this case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asuka glared down at the figurine in her hands, scowling. “Dammit,” she grumbled to herself, pulling away the now-severed head from the body of the dragon, and inspecting the jagged break. She spared a glance at the unraveled square of bubble wrap in the box below. “Well that’s just great.” With a sigh and a shake of her head, she set the broken figurine down on top of the bookcase. “I’ll have to fix you later. Gotta ask Misato if we have any glue, or if it’s lost in one of the boxes out in the garage.” She scowled, and turned back to sorting through the contents of the box. She extracted two more figurines from her their bubble wrap entombments, and was pleased to see that her cobra and sorceress were both still intact. Setting them on the shelf beside the beheaded dragon, she grab one of the discarded pieces of bubble wrap and held it up to the light coming through her window. “I guess you didn’t totally fail,” she remarked dryly, before crumpling the strip in her hand and listening to the series of satisfying pops that occurred as a result.

Tossing the now-pointless piece of plastic into the trash bin by her door, she set her hands on her hips and surveyed the pile of boxes that had yet to be unpacked, a hoard still big enough to lay claim to an entire corner of the room with a vengeance. What next? She ran her eyes over the bare walls of the room, finding the off-white coloration unappealing, to say the least. When was this designed? The 80s? Posters it is.

While she now had a goal in mind for the next step in her unboxing/room design (she preferred the latter description, because it sounded more dignified in her mind, and didn’t serve as quite the same reminder that she had just moved, but in all reality, the former was the more accurate description), finding the objects she needed to accomplish that goal was easier said than done. Opening yet another box, and discovering once again that the objects of her intentions were not within (said box instead contained several stacks of CDs, relics of a time before MP3s were the absolute norm), she set it atop the growing pile of boxes that had failed to contain her quarry, with a derisive glance at the blurred face of Avril Lavigne that stared back at her from within. “Why do I even still have you?,” she muttered as she folded the lid back over. And more importantly, why the hell didn’t we label more of these? I blame Kaji. Because yeah, the person who basically didn’t pack up any of my stuff is to blame for why I didn’t label it. Right.

With a roll of her eyes (mostly directed at herself, if she was being honest), she grabbed one more box from the trove. If they’re not in here, I’m taking a break. This is so stupid. As she opened this particular box, she was at that point not surprised to find that rather than the posters she sought, it instead contained two tight rows of game cases. Well, at least I found something decent. Box in hand, she made for the living room. I’m pretty sure Misato left the bottom shelf of the tv stand empty for these.

She was partway through the process of shelving the games when she felt her pocket vibrate. Pausing her activity, she pulled out her phone and looked over the text that had just arrived.

Tiffany H: How’s day four of the move-in going?

Asuka considered the question for a moment, before writing her response.

Asuka R: About as well as the first three lol.

Asuka R: As in, tedious

Asuka R: How’s life in Terahburg?

Tiffany H: Oh, fun. Same as always, tbh.

Asuka R: Aww, and here I thought you’d be sweet and say it was boring without me or something ;)

Tiffany H: Oh, I mean, you’re right! Whatever will we do? Life’s lost all purpose now that you’re gone xD

Asuka R: Now that’s more like it!

Tiffany H: We’re all lost without you Asuka! We’ll never see the light again without you!

Asuka R: And don’t you forget it!

Tiffany H: In fact, the entire town might perish out of sheer sorrow! Our lives our meaningless now!

Asuka R: Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch. . .

Tiffany H: Ya think? Lol

Asuka R: Hey, don’t stop on my account!

Tiffany H: I’m running out of material here *shrugs*

Asuka R: And here I thought you were a true thespian!

Tiffany H: Yeah, but talking about you gets boring after a while. ;)

Asuka R: I’m hurt. Deeply hurt. *turns nose up*

Tiffany H: There, there, you’ll survive. Just don’t drink the Asherdale kool-aid and forget we exist. Lol

Asuka R: Asherdale kool-aid? Seriously?

Tiffany H: Like I said, I’m running out of material here. Don’t @ me.

Asuka R: Uh huh

Asuka R: Right

Tiffany H: So, what’s the ‘dale like? We got any competition?

Asuka R: I’ll let you know when I figure out what the ’the ‘dale’ is

Tiffany H: Ur 1mp0ssebl3

Asuka R: My eyes are scarred now, thx

Tiffany H: You deserved it. So, what’s the ‘dale like?

Asuka R: Best adjective = boring

Tiffany H: RIP

Asuka R: No competition so far, so you don’t need to worry. The best they have going for them is an

arcade.

Tiffany H: An arcade?

Asuka R: Yeah, I saw it when we were getting into town. Looked it up, it’s some sort of retro deal.

Tiffany H: Retro arcades? Is that a thing now?

Asuka R: Apparently it is in the northwest.

Tiffany H: Whelp, sounds great

Asuka R: Oh yeah, fr

Tiffany H: Well, enjoy ur arcade. I gtg get ready for work.

Asuka R: Ok, say hi to Amanda for me!

Tiffany H: Will do! Ttyl!

When she had finished shelving the games, Asuka made her way back to her room, a determined glint in her eyes (not an unusual expression for her). Alright, now it’s poster time! I don’t care if I have to go through every damn box in that corner, I am finding them! I’m not going to let an outdated 80s color palate get the best of me! And plus, her mind added as an afterthought, Once they’re up, maybe it’ll actually start feeling a little more like my room. And less like someone else’s room, that I’m just staying in. A frown briefly crossed her face, but she tossed it away, steeling her mouth into a resolute line.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, the stack of boxes was no longer a stack, but instead a small pond spread across half of the room. Asuka, meanwhile, was red in the face, and looked as though she was a few steps away from steam vents cartoonishly bursting out of her ears. One final, unopened box sat in the corner, the last remnant of the toppled tower. She knelt by it, her face spelling murder, and began to cut through the tape with her pocket knife. . .

“Verdammt, wo sind sie?! Das ist lächerlich!” (Dammit, where are they?! This is ridiculous!)

She punched floor next to her, gritting her teeth as she looked down at the contents of the last box, namely a set of drum skins, and her stick bag. Still glowering, she removed these items and headed to the spare room. Might as well put these with my kit anyway. She couldn’t deny that one positive of this house was the presence of the extra bedroom, which meant that her designated practice space was no longer a garage. That was definitely a positive. Even if it one of the only ones so far.

Setting the sticks down by her stool and the drum skins alongside her drum cases in the corner, she looked over at the kit with a degree of temptation in her eyes. I should probably at least try to finish unpacking, now that I covered my entire room. But . . . I mean, it could help me calm down. And ignore the fact that we probably forgot the box with my posters somewhere. Walking over, she took her seat behind the kit and grabbed a couple sticks from the sling that hung off the floor tom. Just something to blow off steam. I don’t need to practice a song or anything. She was about to count herself off (out of habit rather than necessity, really), when an adventitious sound reached her ears. She blinked, pausing. That sounds . . . oddly like “Always With Me, Always With You.” She looked around, searching for the source of the faint guitar playing she had picked up. Her eyes locked in on the window behind her, which until that moment, she hadn’t noticed was partially open. Rising from her seat and dropping her sticks back into the sling bag, she walked over to the window and looked out.

This particular window looked down on the strip of the yard which ran alongside the building, and faced the house next door. She couldn’t be certain, but it sounded to her as though the music was coming out of one the windows of that house, which also happened to be opened. Her interest piqued, she decidedly to get a closer look. She headed for the stairs.

Emerging out into the backyard, she made for the wall that marked the border between her family’s yard, and the neighbor’s property. It wasn’t much of a wall, really. It only reached slightly higher than her midriff. She looked down at it skeptically. Well, I could practically step over this is if I wanted to. Guess they’re not too worried about trespassing.

Outside and closer to the guitar playing which floated out into the air, it was relatively easy to determine that its source was indeed the window she had identified earlier. Glancing up toward said window now, Asuka pursed her lips, faced with a bit of a decision. One one hand, she could forget about it and head back inside. She had determined the location of the unseen guitarist, and considering he or she was her neighbor, it seemed like there was a decent chance she’d be able to find out who the guitarist was eventually. On the other hand, going back in and continuing with her unpacking wasn’t the most enticing of options. In the end, she chose the path that let her procrastinate on facing her bedroom’s recently introduced ground cover.

Climbing up over the half-wall, she jumped down into the neighbors’ yard. She decided that if she ran in to any sort of trouble, or said neighbors turned out to be less than thrilled by her trespassing, she could book it back to her house with relative ease. It wasn’t as if the wall would provide any significant barrier. Plus, it’s not as though I’m going to try to break into their house or anything. I mean, I’m going to go ring the doorbell. Though I suppose I could have just gone out to the street from my house and gone over that way. Oh well. This’ll be fine.

Still listening to the solo (which, as she heard more of it and paid greater attention, she had to admit sounded quite good) rolling down from the open window, Asuka walked up along the side of the house, and curved around to the front until she found herself standing directly in front of the door. Alright, here we go. Plan ‘avoid unpacking’ #1, activate! Reaching up, she pressed in the doorbell and waited. She heard a bell-toweresque recording play from somewhere close by the door inside in response to the ring. That’s an interesting choice for a doorbell. Sounds sort of like an antique clock. That might not be a good sign . . . I can’t imagine anyone under the age of fifty using that for their doorbell. Oh well. If it turns out the guitarist is a retiree or something, I can always still act polite or something, say I thought his or her playing sounded pretty good, and then bail. Simple enough.

Asuka waited for a good thirty seconds, wondering if someone was going to come to the door. After a few more moments, she decided that the answer to that question was probably a definitive ‘no.’ Hmm . . . now the question is, do I ring the doorbell again? Or do I just head back home? On one hand, they might have heard it and just don’t want to answer, and in that case, I don’t want to be the jerk who can’t take a hint. On the other hand, maybe they just didn’t hear it the first time. That’s a possibility too. Which means it might not hurt to wring it again. Asuka pulled out her phone and looked down at the clock on the lock screening, waiting for it to change. I’ll give them another minute. If no one comes by then, I’ll ring it one more time. And if no one shows up after that too, I’ll head back to my place.

Watching the digits on the screen, Asuka gave a small nod to herself as the moment passed. She reached forward and gave the doorbell a final ring. Once again, she heard the recording play from within the house. You know, I think I’d get pretty tired of that if it was my doorbell. Just imagine what that would be like if someone tried to prank you by ringing it repeatedly. That would get real annoying, real quick.

After another solid twenty seconds or so, Asuka came to the conclusion that no one was coming to the door. Shrugging, she turned and headed back out toward the sidewalk, content to make her way home. Well, I tried. Guess I’ll find out who the guitarist is another day. Unboxing time it is then. Lovely. However, as she turned away from the path up to the door and angled herself back toward her resident, she heard the faint sound of the guitar carrying out from alongside the house. This time, however, it was a different song. She paused, narrowing her eyes in focus as she searched for the title. Oh, come on, I know I know this one. It’s not Satriani though . . . I don’t think it’s Vai either. Dammit, who is it? She shook her head, disgruntled with the fact that she couldn’t place the tune. Fantastic. Now that’s going to be stuck in my head and bugging me for the rest of the day. Presque vu sucks like that. It was at that instant that another thought snuck into her mind. The guitarist could be the only person home. That would explain why no one came to the door. If they’re practicing, they might have earbuds in or headphones on, which would mean they couldn’t hear me. So, I’d have to get their attention with something else. And their window is open . . .

Asuka practically sprinted the short distance back to her house, a confident grin across her face. When she finally emerged from the back door roughly five minutes later, she was glad to hear that the mysterious musician was still playing. Once again, the guitarist had moved on to a new song. This one, however, Asuka recognized. “Tender Surrender,” she murmured. “Not a bad choice.” At this point, Asuka was almost certain that whoever was playing was probably a good bit older than her. I mean, seriously, Steve Vai hasn’t been big since the nineties. At least, I don’t think so. I mean, I only know him because of Kaji, so that definitely says something. But hey, I’m not a guitarist though, so who knows? Maybe they still adore him or something. All the same, her desire to avoid completing (or at the very least, returning to) her unpacking process outweighed her potential concerns. Plus, her new plan kept her even further away from the person whose attention she was trying to get. Which meant that if they didn’t care for her methods, she could be long gone before they could do much about it. The logic of her strategy was moderately convincing, if she did say so herself, even if it was purely designed to give her a somewhat rational justification to her better judgment for her own procrastination.

Pulling herself up and over the sad excuse for a dividing wall, Asuka found herself in the as-of-yet-nameless neighbors’ yard once again. She strolled over a little closer to the house, positioning herself so that she was in a direct line with the open window. I have to say, this is one way I never expected that year I pitched for the softball team in middle school to come in handy. She looked down at the construction in her hand, the centerpiece of her quickly-concocted scheme. Guess all of that packing newspaper might turn out to have a second purpose too. Hopefully it’ll do better at this than it did at keeping Misato’s shot glass collection intact. With a chuckle to herself, Asuka rolled her arm back, lifting the paper airplane into the air, and let it fly toward her target. It soared upward, its arc accurate, and slipped straight through the open window, disappearing from her view.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rei was nearing the close of the song. Her plectrum had been relegated to a secondary position, pinched between her pinky and ring fingers, to keep it from obstructing her fingerpicking. Only the pads of her skin now met the coils of steel, coaxing melody from the taut metal. Though the piece was not an anthemic one at any point, never attaining any great summit or volume in its course, it had still diminished from its peak, drifting back into itself as the notes grew more wavering, less forceful. They now resembled soft, intermittent tears intermingled with trembling gasps, though whether these expressions were borne out of sorrow or ecstasy was a mystery offered up to the beholder’s mind for judgement.

In her mind, Rei could hear, could feel the presence of the band about her. Every feature, each individual auditory fragment of the track came to her as she moved her fingers, by memory rather than sight. She listened as the band’s accompaniment slowly gave way, dissolving into pleasant stillness, sending its light and focus toward the guitar’s shuddering cry, until it was the only sound left to fill the emptiness, in soundscape both physical and mental. But fill this space it did nonetheless, each caressed, drawn note wandering through the fold’s of her shut eyes, dancing over the defined, stringent edges of her desk and shaving them down into something smoother, unbroken, winding. Blurring the room she half-saw through the image she conceived, transfiguring the elements of the space to abstraction, melting the absolute and the tangible into the fantastical, the speculative.

As she glided into the final phrase, she slowed even further, elongating the notes, letting their voices sing louder than her conducting digits. She had led the song to its conclusion, she let the song itself lead what was left. It extended, sweeping over the growing seconds, echoing as it reiterated, reprising and refusing to fade. Rei followed the draw, her fingers seemingly moving of a will other than her own, glad assistants in the art. At last, the final reverberation arrived, pleading, yet peaceful. There were seven notes left, which dwindled to six, and from there it faded to five, a receding handful.

The fifth note was about to declare its presence when the moment was broken. Something struck Rei’s forehead, fracturing her concentration and dream state alike to shards. Her fingers fell from their unconscious ballet, the necessary pressure absent. The string buzzed against the fret before it died an abrupt dead, cut off by its impact against her lax digit. The song was stripped into nothing, the ending cumbersome and unheeding, true closer beyond its grasp. Rei’s eyes tore open as her hand plunged away from the neck, dropping limp to her side as she stared sightlessly at the desk before her, her blank visage betraying no hint of her acute bemusement.

Rei dropped her pick onto the top of the desk, and lifted the instrument from her lap, returning it to its stand once more. Slanting her head downward, she reached out and retrieved the ostensibly offending object from the floor by her feet. Lifting it into her lap, she rotated it around in her grasp for a few moments, examining the shaped newsprint, complied into a new structure, a form capable of flight synthesized from ink and pulped fibers. Adjacent to weightless, an insubstantial avian, an artificial imitation. Its name was derived from bellowing metallic brutes that claimed the skies as their domain, raging turbines thrumming, incensed engines clamoring, the bellow of war on their wings and a cold caterwaul in their grinding wheels as they wrenched away from the ground and took their place in the belly of the beast. Such a marked difference, an undeniable dichotomy, between this tenuous newspaper lark and those titanium pterosaurs that prowled the clouds at humanity’s behest. To think that both such beings were constructed and christened by the same species was a perplexing, confounding concept, one which spoke to the multitudinous nature of sentience. It could give attention no less assiduous than the sedulous scrutiny bestowed upon the architecture of alleged advancement to the most minute of pursuits. The value of each undertaking determined by the engineers, by the consumers, by whatever society observed its progress.

It was curious, the capacity which such a seemingly innocuous, inconsequential object possessed to act as a conduit for contemplations of the existential and philosophical varieties. Nevertheless, Rei pulled her thoughts away from such metaphysical meanderings and extracted her eyes from their glazed gaze, elevating them from the errant examination. Equally curious were the origins of the airplane. Her emphasis adjusted accordingly, Rei rested the newsprint coated craft on her desktop and rose from her seat to survey the yard from her window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asuka watched the empty window closed, scrutinizing the vacuum that had devoured her airplane several moments earlier. It showed no signs of providing any sort of reaction to that consumption. However, Asuka was nonetheless certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that her newspaper agent had fulfilled its intended purpose. Moments before, the song, which had crawled to a languid and hazy, yet subtly rapturous, finale, had come to a clipped conclusion. There was no mistaking that the ending was unintentional. The last note had been mostly-dead, the tone dulled and buzzed out, a quickly recognizable accident, that had been replaced by silence in an instant, the bum note sheared from existence before it could linger. That . . . was rough. Ooops. Well, hopefully they don’t get too annoyed.

At first, Asuka had expected that the guitarist would take one of two routes. On one hand, the musician might immediately make an appearance, due to the sudden interruption, and apparent derailment of the song. This had seemed to be the most probable outcome to Asuka. After all, most musicians didn’t appreciate being disrupted while they were in the midst of a piece. On the other hand, the guitarist might first finish the song, and then come to the window. Though the second possible outcome seemed somewhat less likely than the first, Asuka knew that there were many individuals who took their musicianship seriously to the extent that they would merely continue onward as if they had never been disturbed in the first place, until they finished their performance. Of course, given that the guitarist was practicing rather than performing, Asuka didn’t expect that this would be the case.

This was all to say that Asuka was not prepared for the reaction occasioned by her action. Or, to be more precise, the lack thereof. Asuka had firmly expected the guitarist to do something. Which was why she grew progressively more and more agitated, albeit it in an understated manner, as the seconds flew by and it appeared as though her ‘delivery’ had prompted positively no response whatsoever. No one appeared at the window, nor did the playing resume, and furthermore, there was not so much as the slightest audible outburst in response to the disruption. Aside from the botched note and the vexatious silence, there was nothing to indicate that the guitarist had even noticed the paper aircraft.

Asuka tilted her head as she continued to stare up at the window, her cheeks and lips creasing downward into the beginning of a frown. Come on, do something. Or are you actually going to just ignore that? Of course, there was no answer to this question, given that Asuka had inquired it of her own mind, rather than posing it out loud. The stillness stretched longer, no termination in sight. Asuka rested a hand against her hip, before dropping it back to her side. That might send the wrong sorta message when they finally decide to show up. If they decide to show up. Asuka’s frown had now passed its infancy, maturing into a full-blown line of irritation. Which is looking less and less likely. A measure of tension had filled the air, as anticipation of a reaction had turned to exasperation, and perhaps a portion of perturbation as well. The tension gave no indication that it had any intention of abating prior to Asuka’s departure. Well that’s just great. Dammit, I guess it’s back to my lovely, most definitely not covered in a mound of boxes room. Fantastic. Rolling her eyes, Asuka half-turned to withdraw, when a figure suddenly appeared in the window. Asuka hastily righted herself as her gaze locked in on the arrival. Took you long enough.

The person looking out of the window was not who Asuka had been expecting. The figure’s blue locks glistened vaguely in the sunlight as it touched them. Her eyes were dark, a rich, bark-like brown, the hue of tilled soiled moistened by a smattering of a rain. They practically gleamed with racing thoughts, deep pools of incalculable deliberation. It was the overall aura of her face, however, that knocked Asuka from her stride. It was expressionless, utterly unreadable, beyond the definitive certainty that the mind behind worked tirelessly and furiously. Asuka could discern no trace, however slight, of any sentiment or emotion in it. The emptiness, the absence, was uncanny. Asuka’s mind raced as well now, seeking an explanation for the void she beheld. Maybe I’m just too far away. After all, I’m a good distance from where she is. Maybe if we were closer, I’d be able to tell . . . something. Her attempts at persuading herself that this was a reasonable explanation failed miserably. The argument was woefully, blatantly incorrect. There was no denying the simple fact that the girl’s face, despite the fact that it appeared as if she was no older than Asuka, perhaps even younger, could have easily belonged to someone who spent years perfecting the perfect vizard. Somehow, I get the feeling that she’s never lost a poker game.

The duo’s encounter began in silence, both parties merely taking in the other, no words exchanged. Asuka did her best to hide her own feelings of confusion, as well as residual irritation. Can’t match her poker face, but I might as well try to not look too worked up. When the silence had lasted long enough to become uncomfortable, especially when combined with the force of the girl’s undeviating gaze, Asuka decided she would have to break it, as it didn’t seem feasible that the supposed guitarist would be the one to do so.

“Hey, you sounded good!,” Asuka called up, doing her best to sound both amicable and positive, in spite of the fact that these weren’t the foremost sentiments in her mind.

The girl said nothing in response, though Asuka briefly thought she spotted the barest, vaguest hint of a smile alight on the edges of the girl’s mouth for a split second. Well, no news is good news, right? And who doesn’t like a compliment? Guess I might have to do the heavy lifting in the conversation though. “That was Tender Surrender, right?”

The girl remained silent, but gave a small nod of her head, her expression unchanged. Asuka decided she would interpret this as an encouraging reaction. I mean, she doesn’t seem angry that I disrupted her earlier, so all things considered, I’m going to take this as a success so far. “Steve Vai is pretty cool. Classic 80s guitar, you know?”

The girl nodded again, blinking as she did so, before resuming her stare. Is that the first time I’ve seen her blink?, Asuka wondered. Because I think it is, and that’s more than a little bit unnerving. Because I’m almost positive she’s been staring at me for a couple minutes. No way, she must have blinked earlier. People don’t go minutes without blinking. That would be . . . unusual . . . and most likely not healthy for your eyes.

Asuka decided to try out a different subject. There’s got to be something that will get her to talk . . . right? Maybe? Hopefully . . . ?

“Anyway, I heard you earlier, and I wanted to see who the good guitarist was.” She bookended this with an agreeable chuckle, that was roughly eighty-five percent forced. “I’m Asuka Kaji. I just moved in to the house next door,” she pointed back over her her shoulder, “a few days ago.”

The girl tilted her head as she received this information, giving Asuka the impression that this was in fact new to her, and she was taking some time to process it. A few more seconds passed, and at last, the girl spoke. “I’m Rei Ikari,” she paused, and then added, “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, but carried down from the window fairly well all the same. It had a calmness to it, that matched up perfectly with her reserved demeanor. It was nearly a monotone, but not quite. There was a note of inflection in it, an element of what Asuka thought was cheerfulness, though it was difficult for her to be certain.

This time, Asuka was the one who tilted her head. Well, at least I got her name. Not sure why she’s thanking me though. “What for?,” she inquired, maintaining her amicable exterior, which was somewhat less forced than it had been several seconds earlier. Perhaps only seventy-five percent at this point, possibly even seventy.

Rei answered in the same voice, devoid of all but a hint of pleasantry. “For the compliment. I’m glad you like my playing.” Asuka hung on to that hint of pleasantry, decoding it to mean that Ikari was genuinely happy. At least, I hope that’s what it means. Although, she could just be putting on a front just like me. I’ll say she’s genuine for now though. It’s easier to be friendly when I don’t have to constantly second guess the other person.

Asuka smiled again, an expression which was mostly real. “No problem. Like I said, you sounded good.”

Rei nodded to this, but didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, she looked down, at something obscured from Asuka’s sight, and then back up at the other girl. “Would you like to come to the door? You won’t have to shout up from there?”

Asuka wasn’t quite sure that the volume she had been speaking at could be deemed shouting per se, but in comparison to Ikari’s subdued volume, she supposed she could see the logic in the other girl’s words. “Sure. Sounds like a good idea.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Rei intoned, not deviating in the slightest from what appeared to be her default voice. Stepping away from the window, she disappeared from Asuka’s view. Asuka set off along the side of the house, making for the front door, considering their conversation so far as she did so. Okay, saying ‘default voice’ might be a bit harsh. Makes it sound like she’s a robot or something. I don’t think she’s AI. I mean, probably not. She allowed herself a quiet little chortle as she rounded the corner and strolled over to the porch. She paused in front of the door. Guess I don’t need to ring the doorbell. Which means I get to avoid the antique clock. Or bell tower. Whichever one it sounds like. Probably both. Either way, not hearing it is a positive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door in front of her opening. Rei halted in the doorway, looking at Asuka. Up close, Asuka couldn’t discern any substantial differences from what she had already observed of Rei’s demeanor. However, the hints of a smile which she thought she had spotted earlier were more pronounced now that Asuka had a better view, making Ikari look moderately more genial to Asuka’s eyes. Huh, maybe I was right. She’s more friendly when I’m not looking up at her framed in a window. And I thought that argument was absurd. Even though it was my argument. Ha! Shows what you know, me!

Asuka smiled back at Rei, the most genuine one she had offered Ikari so far. Abruptly, Rei held out a hand toward Asuka. She looked down, and her smile fell a bit. The blue-haired girl was holding out the paper airplane to her. “Is this yours?,” she asked, giving no signs that she was angry, which threw Asuka off once again. Alright, maybe she’s just at good at hiding when she’s upset as she seems to be at hiding when she’s happy. Then again . . . I don’t see anything. Not in her face, or her posture. And she still smiling. Well, if that’s what that is, I mean. Maybe I didn’t actually disrupt her? Maybe she just messed up on her own? Or maybe she really doesn’t care?

Asuka nodded slowly, assuming an empathetic expression, less cheerful and slightly more chagrined. Just slightly, however. She wasn’t one to act particular embarrassed, even if she was. Not that she “Yeah, that’s mine. Sorry if I threw you off, by the way.”

Rei extended her hand a little further, offering the miniature parody of an aircraft to the redhead. “It’s okay. I was nearing the song’s conclusion anyway.”

Asuka accepted the offered airplane. “You sure?”

Rei nodded. “Yes. Your technique isn’t bad.”

Once again, Rei managed to say something that Asuka was not anticipating. My technique? Where did that come from? This is kind of getting on my nerves. A little bit, anyway Who just randomly switches topic mid-conversation like that? “What technique?”

“Your folding technique. It’s effective. Do you make origami?”

Oh. That is not what I expected her to say. “Ah, okay. Thanks. But no, I don’t.” I mean, technically I have, but I don’t need to tell her about how great that went. Damn cat. Since when do cats eat paper anyway? When did that become a thing? And to think people say dogs are the ones who will eat anything.

“I think you’d be good at it if you tried,” Rei said sensibly.

“I’ll let you know if I ever try it out.”

Rei nodded, her faint smile becoming somewhat more defined, as if this was the most logical and appropriate response, and she appreciated that Asuka had used it. Asuka decided it was time for her to get in another question, before the conversation took an additional unpredictable turn. “So, do you go to Sarea High?” Might as well figure out if she’ll be going to the same school as me in the fall. It wouldn’t be a bad idea at all to know some people before I get there.

Rei only nodded again in answer to this question.

“Cool. I’ll be going there in the fall. You a,” she made a quick estimate of how old she thought Ikari looked to be, “junior?”

Rei shook her head. “I’m a senior.”

Well, I was only off by a year, that’s not too bad. “Me too.” You know, for expecting the mystery guitarist to be some guy in his forties, it turns out we have a lot more in common than I thought.

Rei didn’t respond to this information, but merely continued to look at Asuka, her head tilting slightly to the side, the smile on her face seeming more prominent than ever, though still more of a light impression than a defined expression. Asuka met the girl’s gaze for a moment, and matched the bluenette’s smile with a wider one of her own. I mean . . . she’s kind of unusual, but she doesn’t seem so bad. Could definitely do with talking a bit more, but whatever. “Are you in band?”

Rei shook her head. “No. I’d like to be in jazz ensemble though.”

Asuka grinned, and remarked, “I mean, from how you sounded earlier, I’m sure you could tackle jazz. Plus, it’s fun for guitarists!” Is it my imagination, or is that a tiny tint of blush I see on her cheeks right now.

“Thank you. Again,” Rei said softly. “I haven’t auditioned though.”

Asuka’s smile faltered, and she pursed her lips. “Why not?”

The imprint of a smile and the vague reddening slipping from her face, Rei shrugged. “Nerves, I guess,” she answered.

“Ah. I understand.” I’ve been there. Who hasn’t? But hell, she’s definitely good enough to make the cut! Especially in a town like this. I highly doubt they have a great jazz scene here or anything. Asuka paused, but then set off again, more animated, “Well hey, you should audition this fall! I’m going to be there! So there’ll for sure be someone else there who knows you’re a fantastic guitar!”

The mild coloring that Asuka suspected was a blush most definitely returned to Rei’s face with this comment. Without meeting Asuka’s gaze, a strange change from her pattern up to that point, she replied, “Maybe so.”

“Well, think about it at least.”

Rei nodded, and after another handful of seconds had elapsed, asked, “What instrument do you play?”

“I play drums,” Asuka answered.

Rei looked back to Asuka once more, her indistinct smile back on her face. “Are you going to do marching band?”

Asuka shook her head. “No, I prefer playing with a full kit. That’s why I’m going for jazz ensemble instead. It’s what I did at my old school back east in Terahburg.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yep,” Asuka stated smartly. A new idea had emerged in her mind, one which didn’t seem like a half bad one. “You know, we should jam together sometime. Since we’re literally next door to each other.”

Rei said nothing at first, but Asuka noticed that the blue-haired girl’s eyes looked more distant now, practically looking straight past Asuka. She was tempted to turn around, to see if there was something behind her worthy of attention, but she somehow doubted there was. She’s probably just appraising the idea. She seems like the type of person who thinks things over. Thinks things over intensely, to be precise.

When the space between the two girls had lapsed into silence for approximately thirty seconds, Rei spoke up. “What type of music do you like?”

Asuka gave a small shrug in response to this. “The short answer is, I like a lot of stuff. I’m open to pretty much anything. And the long answer is, well, long.” She let out a little laugh to accompany her quip. “But, you might be able to tell,” she shot a pointed glance down at her shirt, which featured an image of a man removing his face from his skull to reveal a bundle of bandages beneath it, an action which was surprisingly depicted in a manner that wasn’t particularly gruesome (which she personally thought a rather unusual choice for a gothic metal album cover, but she enjoyed the art nonetheless, a fact evidence by her possession of the shirt), “I like metal.”

Rei’s eyes followed Asuka’s indication, and studied her garment, taking in the image. “That is interesting,” she commented, giving no real suggestion of her actual opinion of the artwork. “However, I’m not familiar with Lacuna Coil.”

Asuka curled her lips into a wry half-smile. “Not enough people are. They’re pretty awesome though. If you like gothic metal, that is.”

Rei nodded gently, in a manner that came across as fairly noncommittal. “I’ll have to check them out.” Her tone didn’t particularly evince true interest either, thought Asuka couldn’t say that it suggested the opposite for that matter. It fell in line with almost all of Rei’s speech, in that it was nothing if not neutral and more than a little ambiguous. I guess you could call it balanced. It could go equally toward either side.

“So,” Asuka began, “What about you?”

“As in, what type of music do I like?,” Rei countered, seeking clarification.

“Yep.”

“I enjoy instrumental music. Especially when the guitar is the main focus.”

“I get ya, that makes sense,” Asuka remarked with a nod .

“But, I am open to many types of music as well,” Rei added.

“That always cool. Variety keeps things entertaining.”

“Indeed,” Rei agreed, though her voice showed no particular enthusiasm. The sentiment more closely resembled an acknowledgement of a basic principle that could only be recognized as a fact of life, rather than an identification with a specific, shared perspective. After this observation, she fell silent once more. Asuka tilted her head to the side, waiting for the other girl to continue, but she did not seem eager to break the silence which had descended. Well, she basically avoided that question. Or at least, she avoided giving a direct answer to it. I could press the issue, or save it for another time. Oh come on, I’m not one to save things for another time. She doesn’t seem to mind me too much so far. I’m gonna roll with that.

Asuka decided to reiterate her point. “So, what do ya think?”

“About what?,” Rei asked, her eyes twitching momentarily.

“About playing together sometime?”

Rei tilted her head to the side, before righting it and nodding. “I think that would be a good idea.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah,” Rei concurred, the smallest vestige of excitement briefly filling her voice. Asuka picked up on the alteration, as quickly as it passed. That sounded encouraging!

“Well, hey, let me give you my number, so you can get in touch with me when you want to. That work for you?

“Okay.” Rei extracted her phone from her pocket, a movement which Asuka mirrored.

It was when she glanced down at her phone that Asuka noted the time. Her eyes widened for a brief second. Crap! It’s that late already! Seriously, I’ve been here that long? I probably need to actually try to finish unpacking at least some of those boxes today. If only so I can move across my room without climbing on top of them. Oh well . . . all good procrastination has to end eventually.

Rei cradled her phone in her hands for a few moments. Asuka got the impression that Rei was a little hesitant (for whatever reason) to hand it over for Asuka to put in her number. Selecting a different strategy, Asuka opened her contact profile and held the phone out for Rei to see. “Here, you can just copy off of that. If you don’t want me to put my number in yours, I mean.”

Rei looked at the offered device for another moment or two, and then nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Rei inspected the displayed information for a moment, and then quickly typed something into her phone. “Got it,” she announced.

“Awesome.” Asuka withdrew her phone and slid it back into her pocket. “Look, I gotta bounce. I still have lots of unpacking left to do.” She grinned and chuckled. “My room looks like a minor tornado or something tore threw it. So that’s fun.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Rei responded quietly, but the expression on her face gave the words weight. The impression of a smile that had lingered there for much of the conversation at the door had finally blossomed into something which could be firmly identified as a smile, even if it was a small, uncertain one.

“You too!,” Asuka agreed cheerily. Alright, now the question is, what will she interpret as a proper goodbye? This question proved unnecessary, as Rei gave Asuka another small nod, and then retreated into the house, closing the door behind her, in a startlingly swift burst of activity. Asuka blinked, shrugged mentally, and turned to go, trotting back out to the sidewalk.

Well, all things considered, I’d say that counts as an utter victory. Mystery guitarist turned out to be both under the age of thirty, and overall, pretty likable, at least, I think so. Not to mention I have someone to practice with already, and I’ve only been here a few days. And she lives next door. That’s a pretty great coincidence, I can’t lie. And best of all, I avoided unpacking for a solid half hour more. That’s the real success story here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rei didn’t leave after closing the door. She remained in the hall, watching the girl through the peephole as she departed. She couldn’t say exactly why she did it, only that it felt like the appropriate thing to do. When at last the redhead disappeared from her field of vision, she turned away from the door, and made her way to the kitchen. A strange sensation had developed in the pit of her stomach as they conversed. As with her logic for remaining at the door, the reason behind it barely escaped her mental grasp, as did an appropriate name for it. At best, she could characterize it as an unsettling experience, but not an unpleasant one. The feeling of a warbling tremor creeping up toward her chest, and then shying down and away once more. It played just beyond her reach, content to lurk there. Her first thought had been that perhaps food would lay the disturbance to rest. However, as she sat at the table and contemplated the granola bar she had retrieved from one of the cabinets that ringed the kitchen proper, she came to the abrupt realization that she lacked both the appetite and interest to eat it. Dropping the item in question back onto the tabletop, she tilted her head back to consider her kitchen ceiling. She decided that she preferred this view to the similar one she had observed earlier in the day.

There were fewer unpleasant memories wrapped up in this one. At least, that was the explanation she provided to herself, citing it as being the rationale reason for her mood. Because, clearly, it made perfect sense that studying the structure of the kitchen ceiling would fill her with a disconcerting, apprehensive excitement, but excitement all the same. Any other explanation would beg further questions. Questions she thought it was far, far, far too soon to be even touching upon. And that was without taking into account the fact that the excitement shied away from analysis. She suspected any efforts to investigate it would only yield confusing results. Results that led to the very same questions she wished to avoid. The safer alternative, then, was the ceiling. She was excited over the ceiling. Surely, if inspecting the ceiling of her bedroom could trigger a cascade of doubts and memories, inspecting the kitchen ceiling could make her feel giddy with an opaque happiness, until her brain was too muddled to focus on the shapes in the plaster and they meshed together into an indistinct collage of lines that made her eyes water when she tried to trace the maze she envision within it. Right?

#evangelion #neon genesis evangelion #fanfic #fanfiction #highschool au #asurei #asuka x rei #rei ayanami #asuka soryu langley

29 notes · View notes

charming-2d-boys · 3 years

Note

angsty hisoka sceanrio??? leaving the imagination up to you but i love angsty situations that would give my anxiety irl but like angtsy to fluff situation type thing ahaha

Ooooh, my favourite kind of thing: drama, spice and everything nice 😂💕

Thank you for requesting this! Enjoy! 😄💕

A/N: The song that I used for inspiration is Forever by The Amity Affliction. God, I love those guys ❤ Also, I suck at describing fighting scenes and coming up with fighting strategies, but I'm actually pretty proud of this one 😄

Warning: somewhat graphic descriptions of serious, fatal (for normal people, that is) injuries; also slight spoilers in case you haven't read Ishida Sui's Hisoka's Past

We can't live forever - Hisoka x Reader

Hisoka couldn’t believe it.

He had just talked with you the previous night about this match. He had bragged about how much fun it would be to break his opponent and about the reward you were supposed to give him after he won. You had laughed as he hugged you to his chest, both of you still sweaty from your previous trysts. You had assured him that you’d definitely reward him, like you always did, and also promised to give him a massage for all the hard work, ending your promise with a kiss on his cheek.

And now, it was like everything was flashing right before his eyes. Strangely enough, it wasn't the way he'd heard it would be. It wasn't his whole life flashing before his eyes - there was almost nothing from his past, from when he was a child.

He briefly saw his mother as she was showing him the Ace of Hearts. He chose that card when she was shuffling them and she guessed it. That was one of the first card tricks he had ever seen.

Then, he remembered his time at the circus, with Moritonio and Abaki. The smell of popcorn surrounding him and the taste the Bungee Gum left in his mouth.

An amalgamation of people’s faces, places and blood as he travelled and developed his Nen.

Then the first time he saw you. Your first date and the way you laughed when some kid's cotton candy got stuck to his clothes. The many kisses shared and hours spent together...

All going rapidly through his head as he was stuck to the ground by pointy poles of steel that his opponent managed to catch him with, one of them jutting right out of his chest and between his symbol suits. Hisoka could barely breathe, no matter how much Aura he was projecting to stop the bleeding. The sound of the rainy weather outside seemed somehow foreboding now, compared to how he felt about it in the morning, as the two of you were getting ready - a slight inconvenience.

His opponent was wiping his mouth of blood as sweat rolled down his face, eyes blazing at Hisoka’s figure on the ground as he made another pole with his Nen. This guy hated Hisoka. That much was clear from his bloodlust.

You were watching them. Hisoka could feel your eyes and he saw you, in the stands, in the first row to his left. You were crying and he could see your hands clasped together as you were praying for Hisoka to get up, to not die on you, not now. Your eyes moved to the opponent, watching as he started advancing slowly towards Hisoka’s body, his own injuries and fatigue slowing him down considerably.

Am I really going to die here?

Hisoka looked away from you and to the ceiling, wishing he could see the clouds and feel the rain on his face - just wash the blood away. His fingers were either torn off, broken or crushed; both of his arms were broken and pierced through because of the poles, rendering them pretty much useless; he couldn’t feel his right leg from the knee down and he was sure that a few of his ribs were broken.

What could he do? His enemy was coming closer, intent on winning and possibly even killing Hisoka. He could feel your eyes on him. Those beautiful, teary eyes of yours. God, he always hated when you cried. What would you do if he died? He couldn’t just leave you alone like that. One of the few truly good things in his life. Always so happy to see him. And now you looked like your very heart was breaking right in front of his eyes.

I'm not afraid to die.

He really wasn't. Hisoka always felt that he'd rather die doing something he liked rather than dying from anything else. Too bad you had to witness it.

“Lovely! If I die...” His voice was loud and harsh, blood going down the left side of his mouth as he turned his head towards you. It was hard to breathe. His opponent was still approaching. If only his other hand wouldn't have been broken and now falling limply at his side, Hisoka was sure he would be carrying two poles, mostly as a way to make sure he ended the magician forever.

He wondered how many knew about the two of you. With how affected you looked now and all the looks you were getting, probably enough.

But I'm so afraid of leaving you here.

"If I die... I'll see you on the other side~ ♥️" He winked and smirked at you. You could only shake your head and mutter no as you saw Hisoka turn back to face his opponent. He was back to his usual self - despite the blood, the pain, your tears. Hisoka felt lighter already.

"Ready to die, Grim Reaper?" His enemy asked, pole up over his head, ready to go through Hisoka's face.

"Only if you lead the way~ ♣️" Hisoka responded with a smile, faltering a bit with a wince as he moved his left leg just a little.

"I'll wipe that smile off your face right now!" Hisoka thought he heard a scream right before the pole struck.

You couldn't watch. You didn't want to. And you almost felt like collapsing to the ground when you heard the thud as Hisoka was declared winner. You jumped over the wall and ran to Hisoka's side, ignoring the audience's cheering and the commentator the second you snapped out of your shocked state.

The pole embedded deep into the ground besides your boyfriend's head was heavy and didn't seem like it would budge anytime soon. You listened to Hisoka's instructions as you pulled his opponent's body off the pipe in Hisoka's chest and then slowly got his broken body upright, trying to support his weight as much as you could. Several staff members had shown up to help you and you thanked them as they carried Hisoka to the hospital wing in the arena. He'd have to use a lot of Texture Surprise and prosthetics for these injuries.

You were soon left alone when the doctors made sure Hisoka was stable. You wouldn't let him use his magic tricks that easily - for now, at least. First, he'd rest for a while. The rest could come later. Only that Hisoka didn't want you to go. Not that you would.

"You're such an idiot! I thought you were going to die." You scolded him while wiping your tears, hand holding onto his broken one gently.

"Hmm~ So did I, lovely. ♣ But I had to get him close enough so I could use my Bungee Gum~♦" You had seen the entire thing and were thankful the commentator didn't say anything before Hisoka struck.

Just as his opponent was about to kill him, Hisoka used his left foot, that wasn't broken and only had a sprained ankle, to catch onto the edge of one of his opponent's poles. By pulling it with high speed towards the two of them, there was a high chance of his enemy noticing and moving out of the way, thus resulting in Hisoka killing himself.

But tired, dizzy from blood loss and probably thinking that all of Hisoka's limbs were broken and unable to be used, he had let his guard down. And just like that, he got pierced by his own pole, going straight through him and deviating slightly to the side in the process, striking next to Hisoka's head, while his body slumped over and fell onto the pole in Hisoka's chest.

"Tell them the Grim Reaper sent you~ ♠️" Hisoka had said as he watched his opponent die, face set into an incredulous expression.

"I'm so happy you're safe..." You hugged Hisoka and kissed his cheek, then his lips, thanking every deity you could think of for helping him survive this time as well.

"I'm not leaving you that easily, lovely~ ♥ You're stuck with me for a long time~ ♥" He hummed in delight, wishing he could wipe your tears himself. But seeing you smile down at him and knowing that you were by his side was satisfying enough.

"Good, I only love one clown. And that's you." You kissed him again when you saw his teasing grin. He never liked being called that, but you were an exception.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x reader #hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #hisoka morrow x reader #hxh hisoka #hxh writing

96 notes · View notes

little-ideas · 3 years

Text

Once Upon a Fantasy

Invitation to The Mystic Dance hosted by @little-butterfly-writes here

This was so much fun to do! Thank you for having me :3 I started writing and the story just took on a life of its own resulting in my longest piece yet ^^;

I know I don’t usually write OCs, but this story centers around Vanderwood and my CMC Ao (though Saeyoung also features a bit). The setting is supposed to be in an older time, but I have no sense of history’s fashions, technologies, and music, so please just consider this either a fantasy world or some hodgepodged amalgamation of decades/centuries

Hope you enjoy! ^ w ^

Lengthened shadows flickered about the fringes of paper, the glow of lantern flame warm yet small in the dawn of night. Said paper was of fine quality but wanting in splendor next to the companion twould respond. The clinking of metal nib against glass dotted silence, followed by the soft scratch of pen on the paper’s surface.

Dear Mister Vanderwood,

the letter began, each character drawn slow and exact, crafted with as much precision their writer could muster. Before her leaned a slate, smudged with chalk and the scribbles of drafted note from which she now copied. Ao much preferred the flow of ink on parchment to the drag of chalk on rock, but paper cost a pretty penny and could not be wasted on the idle ramblings of initial thoughts, so the slate had done until she knew precisely what she would write. She only wished she knew where to send her letters instead of waiting for Saeyoung to take and deliver them; but no matter, such were simply the ways of the rich, she supposed.

Glancing at the box upon her shelf, she wondered when she might receive another letter from the gentleman.

~*~

He came the week the invitations were delivered. Town abuzz and bursting with excitement for the Mint Palace Ball, Ao had nary a hope she might see Saeyoung’s companion once more before the festivities began, yet he had appeared at her door in lieu of his friend.

“Saeyoung’s busy with the dance, then?” Ao questioned, pouring two cups of coffee. “Couldn’t escape with you?”

“He’s under extra watch after sneaking away too many times.” Vanderwood responded.

Ao flinched, had it been her fault? Vanderwood must have noticed for-

“He likes to skip his tasks to play with the town’s strays,” he explained, sipping from the cup she handed him. Ao smiled, where once Vanderwood had hesitated to drink, now he waited no longer.

Taking her own sip, Ao mulled over Vanderwood’s recent tidings. Saeyoung would be unable to visit until after the dance -her cats would be displeased at that for he always brought them delightful treats- and she would be unable to send any letters. A shame, but she understood and selfish she should not be. Not now, for if Saeyoung was busy, then surely her guest must also be, yet he was spending time here, with her.

“Vanderwood,” she began, trying to keep her tone light, “is it really ok to be here? Surely, you must be busy, too.”

At this he grinned, and for the briefest of moments, Ao felt her heart stop.

“Whose work do you think Saeyoung is doing?”

She blinked, answer unexpected. Then, slowly, his words sunk in and Ao, too, began to smile. Then giggle. Then could not help but laugh alongside him, tears dotting the corners of their eyes. Through Vanderwood’s letters and his own boasts, Ao knew that Saeyoung -their energetic, brilliant, rapscallion of a friend- had a habit of absconding to destinations unnamed and, though she knew not what it might be, forcing Vanderwood to do their work instead. How appropriate, then, that Vanderwood act in kind for the busiest event of the year. They both knew Saeyoung would not learn his lesson.

As the laughter lulled and soft silence settled betwixt them, Ao could not help but admire her friend- the ease of his countenance; his acceptance of her “tiny beasts” pawing at his sides -creatures she and Saeyoung adored but he was not particularly fond; the divide between his conversations both oral and written -the former dictated by necessity, the latter far more relaxed. Upon their first meeting, Ao had found Vanderwood to be terse and intimidating, despite Saeyoung’s introduction, but through months of correspondence, she had grown to know him -far more verbose in letter- and thought him endearing. She feared not the silence amongst them anymore.

It was he who spoke first.

“Will you be going to the dance?” His voice startled her, causing her to jump, and he hid his smile behind the rim of his cup.

“Pardon?”

“The Mystic Dance at the Mint Palace, will you be attending?”

Ao paused before responding. She supposed she should, the whole town would be off, the food was sure to be delicious, and she might even perchance to see her two friends; however, people were different in the eyes of society, and she wondered if the night might end what little relations they currently had. An event open to all, free of status on paper, did not mean such conventions would be adhered to in practice. Looking at Vanderwood, though, she shook head of such notions; he and Saeyoung would not do such, and to think as so would despair their reputation. She smiled at him.

“I will if you teach me to dance.”

~*~

The counts had been easy; the closeness, movement, and posture, not so much. Vanderwood had come several times since his last visit, true to his promise of being her instructor, and Ao might have felt bad were it not for the heat flaming her cheeks whenever she recalled Saeyoung’s laughter at her miserable attempts at turning during their last visit (how he escaped, she knew not, only that she pitied the poor soul waiting on him). She would learn, she’d vowed, if only out of spite.

Determined not to become a spectacle again, Ao’s evenings had been filled with enough practice that her head was now constantly counting off 3s, her shoulders held a dull ache, and the furniture had been misplaced for days. Yet as Vanderwood now led her around the room, she had not glanced at her feet and had only stepped on his once. Maybe twice. Alright, three times, but in her defense, she had tripped! Or so she insisted to Saeyoung, whose rapid applause came the moment they separated.

“Marvelous, indeed! Would have thought you a different lass!” He teased.

Ao stuck her tongue at him, and Saeyoung leaned against his friend, arm draped across his forehead. “Forsooth, Mary, our lady doth wound me!”

Vanderwood sighed at their antics, yet his smile betrayed his amusement.

“Perhaps you’d care to dance with the lady?” He gestured to Ao; brow quirked.

“And risk my toes?” Saeyoung gasped, “I’d never!”

“Saeyoung Choi!” Ao shouted, attempting to stomp on his shoes. “You absolute heathen!” She missed and the two began a chase about the room, jerking knees and squashing stones, until Saeyoung ran back towards Vanderwood.

“Help me, Vandy!” He cried. “A demon gives chase!” His attempt to hide was thwarted by Vanderwood’s arms surrounding his own and holding him in place, grin stretched across his face. Saeyoung gasped in mock betrayal -twisting to get out- before slumping forwards and extending a foot in defeat. A firm press upon the top of his shoe and Saeyoung was freed, rejoining his friends’ sides to complete an afternoon of mirth and merriment.

~*~

Laughter echoed down the streets as people clapped and cheered -fiddlers skipped along the cobblestone roads whilst onlooking peddlers tapped rhythms with the boxes of their wares. Shops were closing, but with the dawning of the ball in a few days’ time, taverns opened early, seeking to make coin from their many guests. In town, nary a room twas available at any inn, yet still the folk kept coming.

Parading after the fiddlers, people poured into the streets, bouncing with the beats as they sashayed along towards open spaces. All this Ao and Vanderwood had witnessed through her windows yet remained inside. Now, rocking upon her heels, Ao grabbed Vanderwood’s hand, tugging him towards the door and the festivities beyond.

Initially, Vanderwood had no intention of participating in such jovialities -his latest letter from the week prior apologizing for his previous and most likely continued absence- but Saeyoung had pulled him from his desk, knocked upon Ao’s door, thrust him at her, and vanished within the throngs of people scurrying about. Graciously, she had offered him welcome and rest in her abode, but Vanderwood had caught her gaze frequently flit to the outside merriment. Having arrived unannounced, it would not have done to kept her from whatever plans she may have had, or so he told himself. Truthfully, he, too, wished to join the crowds -the carefree and lively spirits of the townsfolk were always a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of High Society. As Ao sternly told her cats to mind the house and behave, before pulling him with her into the party beyond; however, he wondered if perhaps that were not his only reasoning.

It was not his only reasoning, Vanderwood realized, watching his friend dance about, the fires illuminating her smile as a new tune picked up. He saw her beam when her eyes met his own, then beckon him over, but he shook his head, lifting his goblet. She rolled her eyes and huffed at him, yet quick as her smile had fallen, it returned, and she twirled around once more.

Vanderwood took a swig of drink, attempting to ignore the beat which seemed to thrum louder now in his chest. He should rest while he could -Ao would soon drag him out to join her, of that, he was sure.

True to form, she had sought him out after a few more songs had pass, laughing as she spun and planted her feet firmly in front of him.

“Mary Vanderwood!” She panted, grin undermining her admonishment. “One does not simply turn down an invitation to dance!” Vanderwood merely watched as she struggled to regain her breath.

“Drink?” He offered at last, holding out his cup as the notes of a new song began. He chuckled when Ao frowned at him before downing its contents.

“Well,” she sighed, “one song can wait.” Then, as though realizing what she had just done, stammered a “thank you” and handed back his cup.

When the music began anew, Ao tugged Vanderwood towards the crowd of dancers, weaving betwixt the bystanders, pattering along seemingly as though she had missed not a beat of song. And as she kicked up her skirts and twirled about, pulling him deeper in with her, Vanderwood was glad the fire’s glow concealed his cheeks’ blush.

~*~

Well, tonight was the night. Donning the dress before her, Ao prayed it would be nice enough -what little remnants of her wages she had after necessities and paper, she had saved for the fabric to sew a proper, formal dress. Though simple in design and decoration, the dress fit her well and complemented her complexion -vibrant red to catch the eye, with a silhouette that tapered in towards her waist before flowing out about her once more. Practicing a few steps, Ao found she rather liked the way it fanned around her when she spun.

Against her neck sat not pearls, but a ring -a memento of family long gone- and she gripped it tight, wishing for all to go well. Drawing her cloak about her, invitation in hand, Ao left for a fate unknown.

~*~

Ao blinked once. Twice. Pinched her hand and -ow! - this was real. The gentleman before her -noble of birth, correspondent of the treasured letters she kept within the box upon her shelf, beloved friend- stood now with hand outstretched and crown atop silken, brown locks. He chuckled at her reaction.

“Well?” He asked, nudging her hand. “I believe one does not simply turn down an invitation to dance.”

Timidly, Ao placed her hand in Vanderwood’s, and he pulled her closer -left hand closing around hers, right palm tucked against her back- before leading her about the floor.

“You never told me!” She hissed, gaze flickering to his crown before eyeing those around them. He laughed, a familiar sound in so foreign an environment.

“You never asked.”

Ao frowned, about to retort when they spun and she tripped, stepping on his foot. For a moment, they both froze. Then, slowly, they giggled, chuckled, laughed, roared -voices filling the room, and their eyes with tears. Vanderwood took Ao’s hand once more and continued leading her around the space, and for the first time that day, she relaxed.

And if Saeyoung saw the pink that tinged both their cheeks? No, no he did not.

#mysme #mystic messenger #Vanderwood #mint palace ball #the mystic dance #saeyoung choi #whoo we broke 2k!!! :D #ao is a commoner and vanderwood the king if that needs clarification #oc #vandy may be ooc but he's king and yolo

4 notes · View notes

etheriacatsembroiderywitchcraft · 3 years

Text

Sitting here this morning and I had this thought sort of creep in...I remember being at that age where a lot of people, in my experience mainly girls, get obsessed with celebrities and in particular boy bands. I remember liking some of the songs but not all and being told I wasn't a "true" fan of any of the bands. At the time N'Sync, 98 degrees and the Backstreet Boys were super popular and I still have songs I love from them. By far my favorite was always Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely. But more than that, every girl in my class was constantly comparing the guys' looks and I was over there like...but musicians are for listening to...right? And of course they laughed at me.

But, I also listened to other music and there was this song on one of my mom's mix cds that someone had burned for her that I loved and I finally asked her one day who sang it. Now, keeping in mind that most of her music was Journey, or AC/DC or country artists from the 80s and 90s that's what I expected...but she said "actually they were the big boy band when I was your age, at least among my friends. The band is Lighthouse and the song is Hanging by a Moment." And I went directly to YouTube and found more of their music which I liked and she started teasing me about having a crush on their front man and in my head it was "I like his voice, is that a crush?" and out loud it was a shy "maybe I do". Add this to the list of reasons I should have realized I was ace sooner.

But I was thinking about it and I've always loved music but like not by genre or artist really. Rather I listen to music and if it makes me feel any kind of way besides, hmm pretty, or nah not my thing I'll listen to it again later. So my musical taste seems random and disjointed but it isn't. It's an amalgamation of things that make me feel things. My favorites are always the ones that give me a tingle at the back of my head. The last few days I've had one stuck in my head and I wasn't sure why but I've now listened to it about 10 times since yesterday and it's because when I sing along it gives me that tingle. It's called There is no Arizona and it's by Jamie O'Neal. I remember hearing it once or twice growing up but my mom preferred her other songs, especially Trying to Find Atlantis. But for some reason it's the Arizona one that gets me.

And I've heard so many things about why I should stick to one genre or a specific list of artists but I just can't stand limiting my musical intake like that. I like music a lot and any song that I call a favorite has to be special to me. For example, before getting together with my husband I didn't know much about videogames but he introduced me to them. One of his favorite games is Final Fantasy 8 and there's a song in it called Eyes On Me and I adore the song not only because of how it relates to the story and character but also because HE likes it.

I also hadn't heard much in the way of metal music before we got together. But there are metal songs I love now. My husband made me a music video once. The song is The Game by Disturbed and he said it made him think of my relationship with my mother. He used scenes from Claymore, an anime I still haven't watched, and I have it saved to several of my YouTube playlists. I like the song in and of itself but also because of those associations.

Anyhow this ramble is mainly just to say that music for me has never been about the looks of the people singing, it's always been about the music and if that means I'm not a "true fan" in some people's eyes then so be it. Music is an experience in my opinion. 🎶

#music #bands #songs #music is an experience #ace #asexual #should have figured out i was ace sooner #really though #what is a crush

2 notes · View notes

reverseblackholeofwords · 4 years

Text

Invisible

You’re invisible when you’re sad

Clocks tick and phones still ring

The world carries on like mad

But nobody sees a thing

Despite not experiencing any signs of the Actor, or the corrupted Void in which he had imprisoned us, the man haunted our every waking moment. We could still feel his deceptively soft touch on our arms, the warmth of his breath as his poisonous words were whispered into our ear, the pain of having to watch our family suffer while an easy solution lay at our feet. In the dark of the night, when the building is quiet and we’re alone in our own room, a few stray thoughts of ‘what-if’ float about our collective mind. What if we had joined the Actor? What if Marvin hadn’t rescued us in time? It’s these thoughts that end up keeping us from a goodnight’s sleep, and yet it’s never enough to warrant the attention of the others.

Whispering behind their hands

Lost for kind words to say

Nobody understands

Then everyone goes away

After coming back from the Void, it felt like there was more of a disconnect between us and our family than there had ever been. Despite being around our family again, it still felt like we were back behind the glass all over again. People stopped looking at us and ended up looking through us. There were so many things it looked like they wanted to say, but it always went unsaid to us. No one could even begin to imagine the amount of damage we took from being stuck with the Actor like we had been for so long. Not to mention the fact that we had hid from them just how many of us had given in to what the Actor wanted. How many of our thoughts had us succumbing to his demands all because we wanted to save our family, and those were the nicer ones. Others simply gave in to their darker sides and shouted for us to take his offer, but the more resolute among us prevented them from speaking. If anyone else had been through what we had, they would have at least had the luxury of a single mind occupying their head rather than millions of shouting, screaming, begging people fighting for a chance to be heard.

Grown-ups want to fix things

When they can’t, it only fills them with shame

So they just look away

It all came to a head when the Ego we had deemed as our father, the only person who could have the possibility of understanding how we now lived and felt, rejected the position we had given him. Guilt came crashing over our already fragile being as the Host explained all of the stress and pain being the proclaimed father of us had felt for him. Our heart broke even further, but we couldn’t quite tell what it was breaking from. Was it the guilt of having pushed the man we saw as a father to the brink without intending to? Or was it a more selfish heartbreak of being without an anchor once again? While Mare was certainly doing his best as our 'brother’, he wasn’t our dad. Dad’s were supposed to offer advice and comfort, but you can’t comfort someone you don’t fully understand. It didn’t take long for the inevitable seeds of doubt to start planting themselves in our mind. How long will it be before Mare leaves, too? Will the others start to see just how much trouble we’ve caused them and realize that we’re not worth it? Should we just do them all a favor and give ourselves to the Actor? A familiar laugh meet our ears and we spent the rest of the day avoiding any and all mirrors in the building. Is it being greedy to need somebody to see me

And say my name?

While we laid down on the bed that night, we began to reminisce about the previous universe and our other family. This walk down memory lane brought back something in ourselves that we hadn’t thought about in so long: us. Or, more specifically, you. You couldn’t remember the last time you had your mind to yourself without the voices of millions of others butting in, nor could you remember your own name. Of course, Legion was a fine name to have, but there were nights when you would yearn to hear your name spoken by the people you loved. To be seen not as just an amalgamation, but as an individual person. Looking at the ever shifting hands this body had, you began to wonder if all of these things would pass. If you could one day break free from your physical constraints and see your family face to face with your real name to give them. What was your name again? It had been such a long time since you heard it, but with the millions of other names in your mind, it was hard to find something familiar to hold on to. And as the shroud of sleep overtook your collective body, you could swear that for one brief moment, it was your body that Legion had taken the form of.

I know this is a really long piece, but I was listening to the song 'Invisible’ from the Beetlejuice musical and I was inspired to write something based on Legion. Hope you all enjoyed!

Submitted by: @ivandra-winters

41 notes · View notes

nobodyeverasked · 5 years

Text

back to you; kim wooseok

(4704 words) - large

Summary: X marks the spot.

A/N: This isn’t a request, but I literally needed to do this or the idea would’ve slipped from my mind (I planned to do this one before their debut, which passed). I literally pumped this out in one day, so I hope you enjoy! I’m working on requests right now, so this is just something to take the edge off in the meantime.

Y/N tried his best to wring out the sweat staining the soft skin of his hands, not to be blinded by the beryl spotlights stabbing into his eyes, or deafened by the ear-piercing applause rumbling the oily black stage below him. The tremors of fear clawed throughout his body, months of hard work that passed like seconds, but felt like years amalgamating into an abyssal conglomerate of nerves bunching at the back of his throat. Produce X 101 was a rollercoaster of any emotion that a human being could possibly feel, and bared every burden that one could carry on their shoulders. It was a nightmare hidden in a daydream, but also the oasis in the desert.

He has made so many friends, and had to hug so many people a bitter farewell, clutching onto their tear-stained blazers and looking into too many glassy eyes…

Too many…

He was able to perform in front of hundreds of thousands of people and was able to hear the chimes of people's voices echo his name from every corner of the venue. He finally felt what it would be like to live in only a fraction of his most desired ambitions, and leave the pinewood floor of the same practice room at Pledis that he danced in for three years - trapped. The mirror that always stood in front of him replaced with a flurry of dancing lights and compassionate smiles.

He reflected on his journey here, and how many of those who held him dear still stood on the giant black ‘X’ in the middle of the stage, how many he danced with, sang with, laughed with, and cried with. The blade of distress wedged itself further in his heart when the numbers and names appeared on that large screen every single day.

As soon as he entered through that doorway, his entertainment company - Pledis Entertainment - shining in blinding lights on the screen behind him, eyes and expectations lingered on him like a cheap perfume, and fortunately, his audition did not disappoint. His reign as a threat, though, only lasted until the night bled into the sunlit sky, the reevaluation.

He lost his voice during the reevaluation halfway through the song. All he could do was continue to dance with the shadows of dejection strewn across his once nervous smile.

As soon as he fled from the prying eyes behind the camera, he felt the frigid shivers of sympathy already boring into his skull. His confidence and his motivation were broken, and his hopes sunk to the pit of his stomach ever since.

He never left the fragile warmth and safety of Han Seungwoo’s arms that day.

His redemption for both respect, and himself, started to build up in front of him as soon as his voice started to come back during his Blood, Sweat and Tears performance and was able to shoot up to first for two episodes straight, finally losing the stares of sympathy, and gaining curved lips of recognition.

He was a considerable threat during the series, placing in the top eleven for almost every episode. He was always commended for his relentless perseverance despite his slip-ups, his sense of humor, his seemingly endless inventory of talents and the bonds that he had with many other trainees that managed to be caught in the heavenly light of his smile. The narrative that was forged through the heat of every heavy breath he drew, and every word sung through his lips made his journey through the first half of the series seem like a breeze, what could have gone wrong?

It was Wooseok, Kim Wooseok…

Believe it or not, they were actually a couple during Wooseok’s days as a member of Up10tion, however, the twines that fused their gazes and interweaved their fingers slowly snapped, and the tides separating their touches pushed them further away from each other. Wooseok’s hiatus was the final thing that shut their mouths and stopped the peppering of one-word texts that were sent through their phones once every other week. Wooseok - the older - was absolutely bewildered, to say the least, when Pledis showed up on the screen ahead of him and Y/N came in, timidly scampering through the cobalt doorway of the main room.

Many flames burned in his heart and marred his brain. He was thrilled to look into those enthralling eyes once more, to see every single sparkle lining his crescent-moon gaze, to know the stories that hung between those upturned lips, and remember the flavour of the tongue that danced with his. However, his heart hurt just as much as every part of him yearned for his touch, and for his grip to coil around the waist that fitted between his hands so perfectly. He knew that he could only admire his boyfriend from a distance.

He made a fissure so long and wide - created through months and months of silence and habitual excuses - that no matter how close they were physically, their hearts would still be millions of miles away.

The ranks were already being shared, one less person standing on the X, and adding one more spark of sadness to fester in the pit of Y/N’s stomach.

He placed third just before this finale, he could not have fallen so far, he had confidence that he delivered a decent performance, putting all of his effort into every single line of To My World that he had. An uncomfortable, thick heat flourished under Y/N’s navy blazer, and his spirits started to fall with every name that was called. None were his…

“Lee Eunsang from Brand New Music!”

He and Eunsang never talked that much, all they used to share were approving glances of each other’s talents. They shared a mutual admiration for each other, but one that never passed through their anxiously pursed lips. Y/N had no idea how Eunsang could pull of such a vibrant head of scarlet hair, and Eunsang had no idea how Y/N found the perseverance to keep going and staying positive, despite the humiliation that thrashed wildly at him during the reevaluation, and the difficulty of working with unprofessional trainees who already had the lights of optimism fading from their dark eyes. If Y/N made the group - or ‘when’ in Eunsang’s book - he would spill out all of the feelings that were stuck on the tip of his tongue since they spared stares for each other.

“Kang Minhee from Starship Entertainment!”

He liked Minhee, and Minhee liked him, they were on the same team once, and all they could remember was suffering the same storm of hopelessness as they stood in their line, waiting for the ranks of their concept evaluation to be slapped onto that dreadful, black screen. He could still feel Minhee’s head laid limply on his shoulder when they were practicing, the haze of nightfall still felt through the hollow walls and the pale light of the practice room.

“Cha Junho from Woollim Entertainment!”

Cha Junho and Y/N had a connection that hid behind closed doors, and out from under the cerulean lights that lit under Junho’s feet. Y/N was one of the people who was able to see the side of Junho that was barely ever shown, the emotional one. The one that would have Junho heave in fits of relentless laughter when they joked with each other, the one that would cast a blush across his tanned cheeks whenever Y/N would complement his singing, or the one that would silently fanboy over Y/N’s gaze towards the camera.

“Nam Dohyun from MBK Entertainment!”

They never really conversed that much, however, all Dohyun knew about Y/N was that he deserved to feel the blue leather of one of these seats just as much as he did. They usually exchanged glances every now and then, and shared sheepish smiles when and after Dohyun failed to do a pullup. If Y/N debuts, he knows he will never hear the end of it, but he also knows that he will probably soon find something to tease Y/N about on their late-night car rides to the gym.

“Lee Hangyul from MBK Entertainment!”

Despite the vast contrast of the presences that they carried off stage, Hangyul knew that he was immediately enamoured by Y/N’s aura as soon as he performed Blood, Sweat, and Tears. The maturity that bloomed so abruptly in his peaceful eyes and the fires of such graceful intensity that writhed with every movement he made on that stage shocked him, but also brought them together. They could never forget the passive conversations that conquered the starlight seeping in through the windows of their dorm or the warmth of each other’s support that was always cradled close to their hearts.

“Son Dongpyo from DSP Media!”

These two babies were inseparable since the beginning, their combined cuteness shining a light of positivity and happiness that everyone desperately needed. Dongpyo had immense respect for Y/N since he found the motivation to move on after his mistakes during the reevaluation, and was one of the first to hold him in his arms when he stepped out of the frame of the camera. Soon enough, Seungwoo had two kids, both of whom he loves with all of his heart.

If Y/N debuts, Dongpyo hopes to let the candlelights of their emerging friendship to erupt like wildfire, and for their moments together to forever be engraved in their heads.

“Cho Seungyoun from Yuehua Entertainment!”

They barely ever conversed, only sparing glances every now and then, and smiling at each other through the screen when they performed their separate songs. Even though it was never forged into words, the respect for each other was always there - lingering in the sparks of their eyes whenever they watched each other. They would love to see each other grow if they manage to debut together.

“Song Hyeongjun from Starship Entertainment!”

Y/N was starting to get nervous now, he was in third place, and he knew that with people like Yohan, Seungwoo, Wooseok, and Jinhyuk, that there was no way he was going to be seated on one of those chairs, feeling the relieving coolness of that blue leather running under his palms. The shadows of doubt ate away at the flames of hope in his heart, and the tremors of fear and disappointment convulsing through his hands - clenched at his sides. Although his faith was starting to wither, he could not be prouder of one of his best friends, Song Hyeongjun.

They clicked ever since they caught each other’s gaze, the nervous greetings towards each other that haunted their memories fading away as they started to spend more time together, the melodies of their shared laughter forever resonating throughout their heads. They both knew that no matter how bad things got, they would always seek solace in each other, have a shoulder that they could lean on, and arms they could fall into. When they both debut - as Hyeonjun liked to remind Y/N every single day - he wants to make new memories and share more moments, burn the stage and flood arenas everywhere with their boundless compassion.

“Han Seungwoo from Plan A Entertainment!”

Y/N could barely think about how much Seungwoo has changed his life until he was swept into a tight hug, his trance of bittersweet thoughts, and the sour flavour of dread lining his tongue dissipating in the warmth of Seungwoo’s embrace. All Y/N managed to muster was a weak sigh, nestling his head into the curve of Seungwoo’s neck, and relishing in his squared shoulders that he has leaned on and cried into countless times. He hugged him as if it was his last time, the torrid heat pooling between their pressed chests reminding Y/N that with Seungwoo taking third, maybe it actually was.

Reluctantly parting, Y/N walked back to his place on the X. There was the last spot, he thought desperately. However, looking at the heavy heads that were hung around him, he knew that this… This was the end, he knew who the last two were going to be, and he knew who would be taking the twelfth spot of this group, it was not going to be him.

He had to sacrifice everything, waste his breath, hold back his tears and make limitless bonds only to see them slip through his very fingertips. The waves of his self-doubt hurling him further away from the debut that he poured his everything into.

The ringing in his ears shoved him into the pools of anguish, his head dropped too low to see Yohan winning first place and Wooseok - his boyfriend - obtaining second. Y/N may not even get to apologize to the man he still loves.

He was sorry for not being good enough, sorry for holding him back, sorry for not being there.

His heart pounded against his ribs, the lights above him carving out the oily shadows of distress tainting his once hopeful smile, and painting a tapestry of worry along his entire body. He was too deafened by his own mantra of disheartening thoughts to hear the audience ahead of him screaming his name, hoping to help the ashes of his desperation rise into the phoenix of optimism and confidence that he once was.

Everyone perched on their ranking seats were sweating bullets, hands bunched at their sides. The embers of hope blooming in their widened eyes as soon as they realized that their friend - Y/N - was not up here with them, but was on the screen behind them, along with three other trainees.

Y/N was a nominee for the X spot along with Jinhyuk, Minkyu, and Jungmo, however, he was too scared and desperate to notice, his gaze stuck to the floor below him, and his hands draped dejectedly behind his back.

Almost everyone near Wooseok could hear a rough sigh burst out from between his lips as he hunched over, his elbows digging into his knees and his nails wedging into his palm. He could still feel Y/N’s fingers interlacing with his, and he could still hear the faint echoes of the summer rain tapping against their window as they once fell asleep in each other’s arms, nothing on their minds except each other. All he wants to do is hold him, sing with him, perform with him. He wants to kiss him, hug him, embrace him. Talk with him until the sun rose and cuddle with him until the stars died. He yearned to tell him everything that he was too stupid to say, and to fall at his feet, promising to never take Y/N’s untainted love for granted ever again.

Jungmo, Minkyu and Jinhyuk, and Y/N all looked at each other in absolute shock. Looking up at the screen, exhausted and doubtful, he knew for sure that this was the end for him. He saw the other boys, and how much worthier they were for this group, how a relentless fire of hope still danced in their eyes.

He let his gaze fall back to the glossy, black floors, his reflection searing into his mind. His tired eyes, his face shaded with doubt, and his once radiant smile that entranced the entire country - no, the world - now a firm line embellishing his usually joyous features. He barely let the sob boiling at the back of his throat crash through his bitten lip until a hand clutched his, fingers silently threading together.

It was Jinhyuk, watching with heartache as a tear of unmixed anguish finally broke from Y/N’s dull eyes, the sparks of maturity that Hangyul found himself absorbed in, gone, and the healthy glow in his cheeks that burned brighter with every casual smile he shone, erased by the rivers carving into them.

Jungmo leaned over to grab his other hand, bending down and trying to look him in the eyes, but the weights of dejection only pulled Y/N’s head further down, unwilling to look at the person whose dreams that would either be broken, or the person that could make whatever menial semblance of hope he still had perish in an instant.

Y/N’s mangled thoughts finally overtook him, a cobweb of distress and sorrow thickening in his head, the darkness of his insecurities finally bringing the walls of his fragile stability tumbling down. He was too enwrapped by the cacophonies of his own anxiety and sadness, that he did not even hear the host call his name.

“Y/N from Pledis Entertainment!!!”

When the echoes - that felt oh so distant - finally clawed their way into his head, his eyes finally lifted from the floor once again, and his jaw dropped, his teary gaze pried open by the delicate hands of surprise. All of the tribulations he faced with every single week, all of the stress that infected his mind as his rank dropped and rose as it pleased, and all of the tears he shed were finally worth it. Within a fraction of his sharpening vision, he could feel everyone diving in to hug him, all of the happiness and gratitude swelling in his chest bringing him to his knees.

Everyone ranked on their blue leather seats shot up, clapping as they shouted Y/N’s name in symphonies of their own joy. Their dear friend, a kid that they forged so many memories with on and off camera, on and off the show, is going to be debuting with them, they could never feel more proud.

Y/N could barely notice people frantically wiping away his tears for him before he instantly wrapped his arms around the people closest to him, his face buried in Jinhyuk’s chest, and his arms wrapped around both Jungmo and Yuvin, who embraced him just as tightly. Walking down the aisle, and following in the footsteps of eleven of his closest friends, was one of the best feelings that he has ever experienced. Sapphire lights ignited under his feet as he looked up at the young men smiling down at him, all of the memories that he has experienced with every single one of them resurfacing in his mind.

Wooseok instantly jumped up from his chair - much to everyone’s surprise - and ran to Y/N, the younger boy who just regained his composure crumbling to the ground in tears once more when his gaze fell upon Wooseok, who had his arms spread wide open and enveloped his boyfriend in the warmest, most loving embrace that they have shared in months. It felt absolutely wonderful for both boys, to feel the skin that ran between their lips after so long, and the ardor that stirred in their mending hearts. They reveled in the flames of their compassion taking flight in the streams of cobalt light draping over them, and buried their faces into each other’s necks, the scents of their past memories still resonating in their heads even after so long.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry!” Wooseok’s voice shook with tremors of boundless regret, his voice so soft - barely above a whisper - but his words so strong, as if he was screaming from the rooftops they always used to spend time on, the starlight that used to hang over them and their interwoven lips still shining brightly in their minds. “I felt so many things, but I never had the balls to tell you anything! I’m so sorry we stopped talking, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t have been there for you when you needed me! I just want to hold you, hug, and kiss you again… I want it to be just like the old times… Please…”

“It’s okay, it’s all okay…” Y/N barely managed to weave his words together through his breathy sobs. “I would like that, very much… I’m sorry, Wooseok, I should’ve-”

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about, babe…” Wooseok leaned back to wipe away his boyfriend’s tears, still streaming down his cheeks, and glistening in the spotlights still hanging over them. The heat blistering between Wooseok’s fingers singed Y/N’s skin with the scorch marks of admiration, his thumbs gently gliding across his cheeks reminding both of them how much they yearned for their delicate touches, and their interlocked gazes helping them reminisce about simpler times. Much simpler times… “Thank you. I love you, so so so so so much…”

Hearing him say those words after so long, and feeling the symphonies of sincerity lacing his words made Y/N lean his head back on Wooseok’s shoulder and melt further into his loving embrace.

They parted slowly, Y/N’s fingers still loosely entwined with the older’s, and his heart still burning with the passionate flames of a reinvigorated fondness. It has been so difficult, easing into this competition without feeling Wooseok’s soothing hands skipping stones of tenderness across his skin, or having his heart broken with every passing elimination and not having those perfect, rose lips to mend it back together. Hearing ‘I love you’ from him meant more than anything to him.

“Now go, give your speech, you deserve it…” Wooseok pulls Y/N back in for a quick embrace, giving a secret kiss under his jaw before hopping back up the stairs, looking around with a satisfied smile at all the other boys who still had hints of surprise still lingering on their faces.

Dongwook handed Y/N another microphone with a sweet smile strewn across his pale, pink lips. He has watched Y/N grow so much in the past couple months that he has known him, and he could not be more proud of the boy standing before him.

“Hello, I’m Y/N form Pledis Entertainment!” Y/N bowed to the crowd and the screams of congratulations flooded the entire venue, the applause and relentless cheers making the sapphire lights cast upon them convulse to the noise. “When I lost my voice and went to F, I thought I was a failure… I-I knew I was a failure.” All of the fans yell a chorus of ‘NO!’s back at him, causing a weak chuckle to roll off his tongue and through his quivering lips, “but you all made me feel so loved, so wanted - it’s been such a long time…” He looked at the trainers across the stage, at the trainees still standing on the X below him and to all of the people that he made such beautiful memories with. He wished - more than anything - that he could take all of the boys with him. “Whether it be helping me get my voice back, helping me with dancing, singing, or just being a better person - a better everything.” He looked up and around him, watching with a thin smile, flourishing with the tiny sparks of bliss. “You’ve all treated me so well. In this group, I will repay you with everything I have, and give you the Y/N that will not put your faith in vain. Thank you so much!” Y/N let one last sob rip through his upturned lips before giving the microphone back to Dongwook and sitting down in the chair behind him, the gold ‘X’ never shining brighter, and the blue leather resting under his hands never feeling better - softer.

This was it, this was the start of something new. Something better…

Much better…

These past couple weeks with the eleven boys that have somehow burrowed deeper into his heart have been magnificent, and spending more time with Wooseok has made their connection that much stronger, their love burning even brighter than the days they first got together.

They were laying on his bed in their dorm, the dark grey sheets rippling against their interwoven bodies, and the pale moonlight seeping through the windows, draping against them. Wooseok’s hand was lost in Y/N’s hair, mindlessly threading his fingers between his locks and pressing his lips to the knuckles that he pulled towards him. The haze of pure, untainted bliss surrounded them, strumming the strings of their heart and belting a symphony of admiration that soared gracefully throughout the room, nothing but the warmth of their love and the tranquil silence.

“We have so much time to make up for.” Wooseok wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, the fingers that ran along his hands in a haphazard daze making his grip tighter with every one of their interwoven heartbeats that meandered in the peaceful air hovering around them. He did not want to lose Y/N - the biggest blessing in his life - never again.

“Tell me about it…”

“I missed this too, your skin is so soft, so warm…” Wooseok traced kisses across Y/N’s collar bones, the hums of comfort and pleasure that stirred above him, settling into the gelid air of nightfall coiling their bodies.

“I mean, I have been using this new lotion, and you know Areum from Uni?”

“Yeah-”

“She gave me advice on some face masks and primers, I-” Y/N finally looked up to see the older’s stoic expression and his sarcastically lidded eyes, prepared to roll into his skull at any given moment. “Oh, that… Is not what you meant.”

Y/N tries to stifle a screech into Wooseok’s shoulder as he was heaved up and tackled back into the bed, the older’s smirk searing into the younger’s chest, and their legs intertwining as soon as their gazes interlocked once more, the starlight caught in their stares, new galaxies of wonder forged with every blink. Wooseok buried his nose into the curve of Y/N’s neck, upturned lips seizing supple skin, and a sigh of alleviation seeping further into it.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant…” Wooseok’s eyes shone with the sparks of his admiration - ones that never died - the moonlight that bathed his pale skin glossing over his magnetic lips, and entwining with the gentle, brown waves that swathed his forehead. “But it’s like my hands never forgot you, I’m glad.”

“Me too, Seokie…”

Their soft smiles weaved together in a seamless dance of sweltering admiration, hands, and fingers - surging with the warmth of compassion - wandering over skin in cherishing touches. All of the painful memories, harbouring nothing but painful silence and vague, heartless texts, dissipating in the haze of their euphoria, and the mist of twilight settling between the languid pulses of their lips. Blissful embers took flight in the peaceful currents swelling throughout the room, all of the tiny habits that lingered in their minds, and shone under the barren abyss of the night performing under the spotlight of their heavy breaths after so long. Like how Wooseok would always roll them over and have the younger’s precious thighs seize his waist, or how Y/N would edge his teeth into his boyfriend’s lip every once in a while. It was the little things, the shifting of touches, and the feathery kisses that trailed their jawlines, that made them happy.

They both pulled back, lidded eyes - pulled down by the weight of the heavy dusk - and lethargic smiles gracing their features before they drifted off to sleep, Y/N still laying on Wooseok’s chest, and the latter’s nose buried in the head of hair that was still marred by the scorch marks of his delicate touches.

“Oh-” The opening of their bedroom door went unnoticed by the peacefully sleeping boys as Yohan popped his head through the crack he made for himself, the tangle of limbs on the bed casting a bright smile across his lips. “Yep, this ship is definitely sailing.”

109 notes · View notes

etlunainmorte · 4 years

Text

🌙 EtLunaInMorte's 🌙

🎻 Fanfiction Music Masterlist 🎻

***

1. Franz Shubert's Ave Maria

youtube

V could hear, as clear as day, the solemn music that was coming from the other side of the portal. He walked, reaching the end of the dark tunnel, until light enveloped his entire body, giving him warmth. He finally arrived to his destination. But, all of a sudden, he was met with a violent slash of light that almost ripped him in two. If it weren’t for Griffon, who grabbed the collar of his dark, leather vest just in time, he would probably be as good as dead.

“What the hell?!” Griffon screeched, looking around for any sign of Demons.

V looked around, as well, but saw nothing, except for a pastel pink, fur blanket on the grass beneath his feet, an empty basket, and the radio which played the song, “Ave Maria”. He picked up the blanket and immediately noticed that it was still warm, not to mention very fragrant, like the smell of fresh flowers blooming in the morning.

~ III. The Strange Mission

2. Postmodern Jukebox's Sunflower, as sung by Leah Zeger

youtube

Your head held high, your posture as perfect as it can be, you were prepared for the challenge ahead. Everything will go according to your plan. The entity didn’t show you anything bad that might happen, what could go wrong?

You suddenly felt eyes directed towards your being, making the hairs on your nape stand. Your (E/C) eyes widened a bit. You looked down to your left and saw, leaning on one of the walls, the man who almost landed on top of you that Thursday afternoon. The man with the markings on his skin.

The man in your visions.

~ VII. The Unexpected Occurrence

3. Tashaki Miyaki's I Only Have Eyes For You

youtube

“D - don’t,… leave,…” He leaned in a bit closer, if that was even possible, that he was already feeling your warm breath against his face. “S - stay, please. Stay w - with me,…

… V.”

His eyes widened, his jaw dropped. V could not quite believe that you just uttered his name! And, what’s even more alarming was the fact that his chest almost brushed against yours. His hands were on either side of your head, and your intoxicating scent sent signals down to his very core.

Signals,…

… that were very hard to ignore.

~ XII. The Suspicious Advice

4. Skeeter Davis' End Of The World

youtube

“Do you know Titanic, V?” You asked the man.

“I,… ” V began but, then, realized that he didn’t know what you were talking about. “No.”

You were actually surprised by his answer. Who knew he was one of those very few people who didn’t know about the infamous Jack and Rose’s love story?

“Really?” You said in disbelief, then decided to change the movie. “How about Moulin Rouge?”

“No.”

Hmm! Not even a classic! Something modern, perhaps?“The Fault In Our Stars?”

“No.”

What in the - ?! “The Time Traveler’s Wife?”

V sighed in both annoyance and disappointment. As much as he wanted to answer your questions, he really had no idea what’s going on in the modern world.

He was stuck too long in the Underworld. For Heaven’s sake, how could he know such things as those?!

“I’m sorry, no.” He simply said.

You crossed your arms, unable to believe that a poor, innocent man such as V still existed in today’s society.

“Have you seen Hachiko?” Okay, no one could resist dogs, or Akitas, that I know for sure,…

To your delight, V’s eyes actually widened as he remembered something very fond, he just couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.

“That,…” he said, feeling proud for once that he had an answer to at least one of your questions. “… I’ve actually heard of.”

~ XIII. Dates And Movies

5. Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody

youtube

Griffon was about to join in the apple pie banter when he heard someone calling him. He turned and saw you as you were about to enter the van, drowsily looking at him with one finger held up on your lips.

“Sshh,…”

~ XV. The Diabolical Amalgam

6. Jimmie Davis' You Are My Sunshine

youtube

“Ugh, are you really my friend?” You shook your head as you sat up straight and rubbed your temples. “Stabbed, burned, skewered. You name it, I went through it. If it weren’t for this entity inside me, I wouldn’t even be talking to you right now. But, nowadays,…” you sighed, still feeling a bit worn out from the events that took place the last time you were awake. “… I feel,… completely drained. Like, I’m running out of lives to spare.”

“Is that even possible?” Nico asked as she stood and made her way to the back of the trailer to make you a decent meal. “I mean, you’ve been with that entity for ten years, and you never complained about getting tired.”

“Yes but, lately, I’ve been feeling, I don’t know, worn out? Like I’ve been running an endless marathon with hardly any breaks.”

“I can tell.” Your friend answered with a knowing smile.

~ XVI. The Unacceptable Truth

7. Sitti Navarro's Invisible War

youtube

“In four days time, two hearts would be ripped open, blood shall be spilled, and emotions will clash upon uneven ground. A Prince will awaken and a King shall rise. The Pale Ones would make their move and engulf the whole world in darkness. Only then would the third and final heart, the one who would regret the most, be stabbed by their own doing.”

“That sounds,… cheerful,…” Nico added sarcastically to somehow lighten the mood. She might have poked fun at you for changing into that light being who can disintegrate your clothes but, she just couldn’t make fun of this particular entity who made unfunny prophecies.

~ XVIII. Aspect Of Future

8. Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah

youtube

”(Y/N), WHAT DO YA REALLY FEEL ABOUT V?!“

"I LOVE HIM! OH, GOD, FORGIVE ME! I DO!”

“THEN, TELL HIM!”

“WHAT?!”

“SLOW DUMBASS! IF HE CHICKENED OUT ON YA LAST NIGHT, THEN IT’S UP TO YA TO DRAG HIS ASS BACK HERE AND MAKE HIM STAY FOR GOOD!”

“I DON’T GET IT!”

“SLOW! DUMB! ASS! CONFESS TO HIM!”

~ XIX. Tears And Sadness

9. Casey And Ali Edwards' Devil Trigger

youtube

“Could you play something more upbeat for a change?!” You asked bravely, ready to face your own death. “Like, with no heartbreaks, or rejections, or douchebags, or what the fucking ever?!”

Nico gasped in fright. “Wow! Sailor - mouth Nero sure made an impact to you, huh, hon?”

“Just fucking do it!”

“Alright! Alright!” The freckled woman said and slammed the jukebox button on. “How about this?!”

Nico nodded. You have become angsty and mad, and at least that’s better than you moping around, tending to your broken heart.

~ XX. Rejection And Heartbreak

10. Rin Oikawa's I'll Be Your Home

youtube

Dante cupped your face with his huge hands and made you look up at him.

“If you must, then I will let you go. Once more.” He replied, every drop of your tears painfully driving a nail through his already beaten heart. “But, swear to me that after all this, you will go back home. Back to me, where you really belong.”

~ XXI. He Who Loves

TO BE CONTINUED

***

🌙🎻

***

#etlunainmorte's fanfiction music masterlist #volume 1 #i see my future before me #part 1

7 notes · View notes

queenofcats17 · 5 years

Note

i could see hell's studio joey accidentally fusing henry's soul to bendy's soul and body and it taking joey a week to undo the what he did

That’s certainly interesting. Linda’s gonna kick his ass.

———————————————–

Alright, so, Henry’s streak of not getting involved in shenanigans had officially been broken. First, there had been the fusion thing and now there was…this. Granted, with the fusion thing, Henry had agreed to it. This…This he had not agreed to. And now he was stuck occupying the same body as Bendy until Joey got this fixed.

Backing up, it had all started a few days before. Joey had been trying to figure out ways to reduce the stress on the toons’ bodies. They sustained themselves through ink and magic, but strong emotions tended to disrupt the magic holding their bodies together. Case in point, every time Bendy got stressed and started dripping on the floor. Bendy had tried to dissuade Joey, but Henry had backed his friend up for once.

“It would be good if Joey managed to find a way to make you more stable,” Henry said. “I mean, it would certainly make Wally’s job easier.” He laughed.

“Joey doesn’t need to mess with black magic for that,” Bendy grumbled.

While he did like the idea of having a more stable form, he absolutely didn’t trust Joey to not screw this up. Joey was a good man. He meant well. But he was basically the human version of Murphy’s Law. If it could go wrong with him, it would. But…he trusted Henry. So, if Henry thought it was alright, he’d go along with it.

In retrospect, neither of them should have agreed to it.

Joey’s idea involved using Henry’s blood to form a connection between Bendy and Henry. Since Henry was Bendy’s creator, Joey thought that having a connection to Henry’s soul would make Bendy’s body stronger as a result. If it worked, he could try linking Alice and Boris’ souls to people who had strong connections with them.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Bendy announced as he and Henry sat in the circle. Because of course Joey had to draw up a circle. At least he’d started using chalk instead of paint. That was only really after Wally had thrown his mop down and announced he wasn’t going to clean up the paint anymore.

“Oh, it’ll be fine.” Joey waved a hand, opening up his spellbook. “This spell is perfectly safe!”

“That’s what you always say.” Bendy gave him a deadpan look.

“I mean, it’ll probably be fine.” Henry was getting a bit nervous himself, but it was far too late to back out.

“Don’t encourage him, Henry.”

After a few more minutes of preparation, Joey pulled out a knife from his desk.

“Alright! Now you both need to cut your palms!” He announced brightly.

“Joey…Has that always been in your desk?” Henry asked slowly.

“Oh no, it’s a recent purchase,” Joey said, holding the knife out to the two of them.

Henry and Bendy both stared at him for a little bit before Henry took the knife. He chose not to cut his palm, (because that would have really hurt) instead pricking his finger. Bendy cut his palm because he was committed to aesthetics.

“Alright, now press the wounds together,” Joey said. They did as he asked and Joey began to chant. The candles began to flare, the air getting heavier. Both Henry and Bendy started to feel strange, and get the distinct impression that something was very wrong.

However, before either could say anything, they were consumed by a bright light. The fact that there was a bright light should have tipped everyone off that something was wrong, because every time one of Joey’s spells had gone wrong it had been preceded by a bright light and the candle flames flaring. Joey still hoped everything was alright, though. Until the light faded and Henry was gone.

“H-Henry?” He asked, eyes widening as panic began to rise in his chest. Had he just killed Henry? Or banished him to another dimension? Oh, gods. Linda was going to kill him.

“I’m right here.” To his surprise, Henry’s voice came from Bendy’s mouth.

“Henry?” Bendy frowned, looking around. “Where are you?”

“What are you talking about? I’m right here.” Henry said. “Where are you?”

“No, you’re not!” Bendy turned around.

“Uuuh….” Joey laughed nervously. “You two…might want to see this.” With shaking hands, he held up a small hand mirror.

Both Bendy and Henry screamed when they saw what was reflected back. It was Bendy but dressed in Henry’s clothes, and with one human-looking eye. For an unbearably long time, the office was silent. Joey’s hands were shaking so much he nearly dropped the mirror multiple times. Finally, Henry spoke.

“Linda’s going to kill you.”

Linda did not kill Joey. She did, however, give him the lecture to end all lectures. Joey feared no god nor king, but he feared Linda Stein.

“You fix this.” She said once she was done yelling at him.

“Yes, ma’am.” Joey squeaked.

“Good.” Linda turned back to the strange amalgamation of her husband and Bendy. “Why don’t you take some time and rest while he figures this out?”

“Yeah, of course,” Henry said, despite knowing full well that neither he nor Bendy would be resting.

The fact that they were now one entity made things more difficult for both of them. Bendy had to be everywhere, supervising everyone. Henry stayed in one position and drew for hours on end. Henry conceded to allowing Bendy to go about his duties, although he did insist upon stopping every so often so he could draw. He got fidgety when he couldn’t. But he wasn’t allowed to be drawing frames. Those took a lot of time that Bendy didn’t have.

Luckily, they weren’t on a deadline, so Henry wasn’t absolutely needed. They had other animators that could cover the slack while Henry was out of commission. This did nothing to ease Bendy and Henry’s stress. They were very stressed at being in this situation. Bendy’s form did seem more stable, though, so that was probably a plus.

“So, how are you holding up?” Sammy asked at about day 3.

“Everything is awful and I hate my life.” Bendy groaned, face first on his desk.

“What about you, Henry?” Sammy craned his head a bit to see if he could notice a change in expression to signal the shift in who was speaking.

“His stress is making me stressed,” Henry replied. “I want my body back so I can hug my wife.” Sammy nodded. It had been a bit jarring, hearing Henry’s voice come out of Bendy’s mouth. And the fact that Bendy and Henry argued a lot now that they shared a body was weird. But weird was par for the course in this studio.

“I finished the songs for today, by the way.” Sammy pushed the papers toward Bendy.

“Thanks, Sam. You’re the best.”

Sammy couldn’t help but smirk at that. “You’re welcome, boss.”

Thankfully for everyone in the studio, Joey had it figured out by the end of the week. He’d worked extra hard because he didn’t want Linda to murder him.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll figure something else for Boris and Alice.” He promised before disappearing into his office. Wally found him passed out about an hour later, curled up on the couch in the corner of his office. Both Bendy and Henry took a few days off after that to just relax. Linda hadn’t been about to let Henry back in the studio for a few days anyway.

#bendy and the ink machine #fanfiction #hell's studio au #joey drew #henry stein #bendy the dancing demon #linda stein #sammy lawrence

26 notes · View notes

cursedfanficdelicateogs · 4 years

Text

Amalgam

Word count: 4638

Ice cream isn’t exactly a priority during the apocalypse.

Especially if you’re an amputee.

And yet at the moment, Herman’s main problem is whether or not he can fetch a second helping of banana soft serve.

And well, if he could stop watching the Bee Movie right about now.

“Sorry if you don’t like banana,” Dr. Salmaki said, spooning out more ice cream. “But it’s not like dairy products can last very long these days.” Laughing, she pulled out the gold flower from her hair and tucked it back in at the crease behind her ear; an odd look for a woman in her mid-60s. Even more strange was that sunflowers still existed in this world. It was small, a blossom you would drive by on a summer afternoon but never know the name of. Unfitting to the world right about now, but it blended right into her hoarding garden Herman examined with the turn of his eyes.

Shrubs, trees, vines shrouded the room like a terrarium, except this time he wasn’t looking from the outside in. He was part of the lizards or bugs, trapped, with its wild chirp lost from the sense of overwhelming security. There was no need to try and survive.

He could sort of understand why those lizards died so quickly now.

Then again, he wasn’t a lizard.

“Not a fan of the Bee Movie?” Dr. Salmaki asked, turning the television off. Barry and Vanessa disappeared from the boxy screen with a blink of light, their animated voices cut off with a high-pitched click. Dr. Salmaki reached for her cane and pressed the eject button on the remote control, the VHS sliding out and hitting the ground.

He had forgotten how much he missed technology.

He shook his head, nonetheless.

“I’m not a fan of cartoons in general, I guess,” he replied.

“You get used to them once they are the only source of entertainment you have.” She paused. “Too literally in this case, considering it’s the only cartoon I have.” She chuckled again.

What was so funny?

“I’m never really home, so I guessed this crappy kids’ movie would be enough if I ever had to stay here at home for more than a day. Now look at me, my television is only useful to watch some anthropomorphic bees destroy the environment.” She said, smiling. He remained quiet, not sure how to respond.

“Not much of a talker, hm?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Herman sipped up whatever was left in his bowl.

Melted bananas. His new favorite food.

“There’s not much to talk about,” he replied simply.

A pause of silence. Dr. Salmaki smiled, snickering as if he was some sort of pet.

“Looks like you’ve got a story, though.” She remarked, tapping his one foot with her cane.

He instinctively grabbed what was left of his right thigh, a burning shot firing down his limb.

Herman’s heart raced.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-

The pain disappeared once his fingers made contact with the leg.

He was the butt of his body’s own sick joke.

“Please don’t do that.”

“Sorry.”

Another pause of silence.

“I used to have friends.”

Dr. Salmaki set her cane to the side.

“I wasn’t sure what happened to them now, especially after the meteor. Perhaps they could afford government-funded panic rooms, with their suburban wealth and all. Our family could’ve been a part of the system, too, if it weren’t for me.

Some, like my sister and I, stayed in communal panic rooms. These shelters were offered by local folk who supposedly took pity on us and our pleading parents.

There was only enough food for two more people, so mom and dad offered to go find some more for themselves and the rest of the group.

Fate had better places for them.

I never contributed much to the team. I focused on sports in school, so I wasn’t as smart as the others. At least my sister could go out and scavenge. She had a pretty voice, and combine that with our dusty, out-of-tune guitar and there you go, sanity was restored for a few hours.

It wasn’t my fault I didn't contribute anything to the group.. I couldn’t magically grow a limb back, and my body rejected the prosthetics available. But the other panic room members were generally sweet and frankly quite pitiful, sharing some of their food with me.

Food, like clothing and medical supplies, was among some of the first materials to run out.

As many other groups of people during the apocalypse did, we organized a scavenging party. My sister volunteered to go, despite the fact that several people urged her not to. Probably because of me. Nonetheless, she left, humming the tune to a song I have long forgotten the title to.

I may have not spent that much time with her than I should have, but I knew certain facts about her that others were slow to catch. One thing for sure, if she was absolutely silent, she was absolutely scared. It was unfair in a way, how she could just grow up so fast while I was stuck here, still living off of other people’s pity. Either way, it was neither of our choices to do so.

I began wondering if it was the common fate for whoever stepped out the metal door to never come back.

Panic grew. One left and again, never came back. Rations got smaller. I found out meetings have been pushed to nighttimes when I’m asleep.

“They’re planning to EAT you.” A pitiful woman whispered ruefully one day.

The metal door creaked open. I fled.

Surprisingly, no one dared to mess with me. No matter how menacing they looked, they’d just look away after glancing at my missing limb. It may be the apocalypse, but it takes a long time to just lose the pity from someone.

The most conflict I ever got was when I encountered some sort of gang along the way. They laughed at my amputation crudely, and they threw me some food like they were feeding some birds at a park. They said they’re not heartless to the point they would kill a cripple, immediately after shooting one of their members for 'wasting ammunition’.

...They showed me how to get to a place that would offer some food and shelter for a short time. When I thought I couldn’t go any further, I just saw an old woman with a flower in her hair.” He finished his story. How he got to a place where he could eat vegan ice cream for eternity.

“I mean, who knew that person would be some sort of apocalypse millionaire?” Herman asked, laughing emptily.

Dr. Salmaki, after listening quietly with a couple of cynical remarks, laughed wholeheartedly.

“I'm something, but not a millionaire.”

She sighed, a smile lingering on her expression.

“Well, perhaps it’s not the happiest story, but it’s one indeed,” she said.

“I guess.”

“I don’t want to waste too much of your time, y'know, listening to me, but I used to have a grandson.”

“What happened to him?”

“Oh, wasn’t fortunate I suppose. He contracted a disease and medication wasn’t good enough for him. Perhaps it’s my fault, I promised his parents I would take care of him and yet I was always out, investigating in the laboratory.”

They both sighed.

“Dr. Salmaki, I don’t want to sound rude, but maybe it’s best to keep the past in the past, you know? I mean, I used to have two legs, but it’s not like I try to remind myself of it everyday. It just... helps to think about something else. Especially when you can’t do shit to help yourself with the current problem.”

She rested her head against the seat of the plant-occupied couch. Her green eyes lost its usual inspired twinkle, but as soon as she made eye contact it was back.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. It's no use reminiscing!” she exclaimed, laughing wholeheartedly.

“What should I be calling you? I just realized I’ve been eating ice cream with a complete stranger.” She asked.

“It’s Herman. I was named after a Greek god, apparently,” he replied, shrugging.

“It’s better than Artemis. You would’ve been named after a goddess of virginity.”

They laughed.

"I’m done with angsty talking, we're not characters in a YA novel, now. How about some music?” She asked.

“Sure.”

Dr. Salmaki stood up, stretching out her joints. Herman grimaced internally of how many cracking sounds her body was making.

She walked over to the counter and from the dark, seemingly pulled out a radio and something else. She carried it back to the couch and set it between the two of them. She pulled out the disc box and took out the disc inside, handing him the box. While she was figuring out how to get the old radio to work again, he examined the empty case and its flashy writing.

Lysa and Ellie’s Playlist for the Apocalypse

It seemed to be written on plain letter paper with markers. He flipped it over to the back, and there was what he assumed was a list of the songs in this playlist.

Paparazzi

Perfect Illusion

Applause

Aura

Government Hooker

Paper Gangsta

Dope

Bad Romance

Telephone

“I didn’t know you were a fan of Lady Gaga, Dr. Salmaki,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not. I used to be a camp counselor for this one science camp a coupla’ years ago. It was called “Apocalyptic Science”, you probably know what it would be about based on the name. I hate prepubescents, but I was fond of these two girls, Lysa and Ellie. I dunno, they just reminded me of who I was when I was their age, maybe that’s why. Anyways, they asked me if I was a fan of Lady Gaga, and I said no. Not sure how they were able to burn a CD with explicit music at a limited technology camp, but they handed this to me on the last day as a gift.” She explained, pressing the play button.

“What a coincidence, isn’t it?” She remarked.

The machine whirred and clicked for a good half-minute before it finally decided to play some music.

“We are the crowd, we’re c-coming out, got my flash on it’s true….”

He froze.

“What’s wrong?” Dr. Salmaki asked.

“Oh, um, it’s nothing,” he replied.

“Your expression tells otherwise.”

“It’s just that… I didn’t know this was the song that my sister was humming before she left, you know? I can’t believe I’m just recognizing it right now.”

He paused, trying to figure out how he was feeling at the moment. How could he forget? She was always talking and singing about Lady Gaga. Did he simply not care to remember her favorite songs, maybe even try to share that single interest with her?

The two of them have been through thick and thin, and yet they barely even knew each other.

Or was it just him who knew nothing about who she really might have been?

“I feel so dumb,” he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

Dr. Salmaki sighed.

“It’s a feeling you get used to with time. I can’t know everything, even if emotions say otherwise,” she responded.

“But anyway, there’s no use reminiscing. You’ve even said that yourself, didn’t you?” she confirmed, smiling.

He let out a forced breath of laughter. He couldn’t contradict himself.

“You’re right, there’s no point sulking about what I can’t change. Gotta enjoy the moment.” he replied. She laughed heartily.

“That’s the spirit! Do amputees dance, or what?” she asked, lending him a hand.

He smiled, using her hand and his crutch to stand himself up.

“Of course.”

***

It’s been a few weeks since he’s been staying with Dr. Salmaki. He's learned that she not only does she have an indoor garden as her home, but she also owns a small farm of animals in her shed. Well, it’s more of a home for her pets, since she never uses them for food. But at this point, he has gotten used to a vegan diet, and it wasn’t like it was his position to complain anyway.

“Hey, Herman, get over here for a sec.” Dr. Salmaki hollered from the other side of the house. He stopped his doodling and walked to where her voice came from.

She was standing by the metal door, where her inventory was located. It was always locked for safety purposes, but he had no reason to step in there. But he respected her choice nonetheless. He wasn’t planning to build suspicion by asking about it any more than he needed to, anyway.

“What do you want?” he asked, watching as she punched in the code for the door.

“Remember when I said this was my inventory? Well, surprise surprise, that was a lie.”

After opening the heavy door, she turned on the lights to reveal some sort of laboratory.

With mixed emotions and disordered questions, he hoarsely replied,

“...What?”

“Hey, do you want to see something cool?”

Without even waiting for a response, she filled up an empty tank with tap water and mixed in a large amount of salt with it. She then proceeded to pluck the signature flower from her hair and drop it into the water.

The blossom seemed to shrivel for a moment, as it sunk wistfully down to the bottom.

As he was about to ask how this was supposed to be ‘cool’, the flower’s petals suddenly began to thicken and spread out. It had bloomed as if it was an early spring morning.

Immediately it started to form suction cups you would only see on octopi all around itself, and soon it found its way towards the glass wall and stuck itself to it. It slithered around, the new creature's tentacles feeling around its territory.

He watched, awestruck and but mostly disgusted.

“It’s like a… a-”

He tried to think of the right term.

“A starfish? A squid? Close but no cigar. That’s what you get when amalgamating a Maximilian sunflower with a typical octopus,” she explained. She observed with dull eyes as if this was nothing new.

“But how? I don’t understand how someone could just so easily do this.” he said, confused.

“I used to be a genetic engineer. Heh, sorry lying about my profession again. But did you really think I was a BOTANIST?” she asked, chuckling softly.

“But that still doesn’t explain how one could possibly do this. Isn’t this… I dunno, impossible?” he asked.

“Impossible, yes. For Earth, that is.”

“Goddamnit, that doesn’t explain anything! What are you saying, what, you’re some kind of alien?”

“Ha, I wish. We’re wasting time, Herman. Do you really want to hear this stupid story?”

“Uh, yeah, especially now that you’re saying that we’re ‘wasting time’ for something I have zero knowledge about.”

Dr. Salmaki sat down on one of the metal stools.

“Ugh, fine… Well, to begin, I was appointed by the government to figure out ways for people to go through the apocalypse without, ya know, dying.

We had our astronomist, botanist… pretty much the cream of the crop from each field of study. Hell, we even had a pastor. That’s how desperate the government was. We grew close, but we knew enough not to depend on each other too much. They were all intelligent people, smarter than me at least. But even the smartest people couldn’t figure out how to make the quality of living better while still remaining under budget.

I think we gave up on what we could do with what was left of the Earth once we focused on the meteor.

From what was concluded from the research, the meteor couldn’t have fallen ‘accidentally’ or ‘naturally’. It was either thrown by some galactic giant or was just a meteor with a very strange orbit defying all laws of physics. Both seemed pretty unlikely. The meteor was also releasing a whole new element to the environment, a substance rebelling against the laws of nature. Too bad the press barely even existed anymore, it’s a breakthrough that would’ve shocked everyone.

We conducted all sorts of experiments with it, but with our limited resources we could only go so far until we hit another brick wall. We put safety before anything, but it’s difficult to balance security with discovery. We weren’t finding anything with lab rats. Exposing them to the meteor's element would only create some sort of gooey mutant. And we couldn’t risk losing possibly the only species alive by using something other than our abundant rats. No one wanted to die, either, despite their half-baked statements of sacrifice for the greater good.

The greater good only sounds sweet if it doesn’t involve yourself, after all.

I think at one point the government got tired of our shindigs and complaints, so they decided to cut whatever rat’s tail funding and resources that went to us. As if the world is gonna repair itself.

After packing up whatever I brought to the laboratory, I decided to stop and talk to the pastor who for whatever reason stayed with us until the end.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” I asked.

“Who am I to go against God’s will?” He asked back, calm despite the uneasy silence.

“So it’s god’s will to set you in some safety net with guaranteed food and rest? While everyone else is suffering out there, scrambling and murdering each other for a morsel of food? Got it.”

He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Not a fan of Jesus, I assume?”

“I mean, do you think I’m in this field just to worship some entity I have no knowledge or proof of its existence?”

“It’s the whole point of faith. It’s the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

“Well, assurance from some outdated book isn’t enough for me. I need concrete proof, a hypothesis I’m 99 percent certain would be correct. I suppose that’s why religious people don’t make sense. You see them do ridiculous acts like bombing a village or flying into provenly dangerous lands all in the name of their gods.”

“Precisely. Some perform dangerous crimes or actions, blinded by faith. But we are all blind in a way, since we are all sinners. What differentiates us is what leads us through that darkness and where we go because of it.” He explained. He walked into his room and came back with some sort of yellow flower in a plastic cup.

“That’s a Maximilian sunflower. How did you manage to grow it?” I asked, holding it by the makeshift pot.

“I’ll be honest, it got a little boring to just watch everyone continue with their studies. You can keep it.” He responded.

“I mean, thanks, but why?”

“The sunflower symbolizes loyalty. They’re always facing the sun, even though ffor humans the sun is too bright to the point it blinds them. I feel like that was how loyal you are to science and your field. I admire it, how you proceed step-by-step to make sure the experiment is safe for all.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I may be passionate, but it’s not like I’m brilliant. I mean, if you’ look back you can obviously see that we haven’t seen any benefits to the new element, despite our efforts.”

“True. So perhaps it’s time to take a leap of faith. You all have been so caught up in the hypothetical dangers of it up to this point.” He said, walking towards the door.

“Whatever your choice may be, I have faith in you.” the pastor said, and left the laboratory.

I looked back at the unused specimen, stored in their glass cages, tanks, or whatever environment they needed to be kept in for basic survival.

Government workers were going to come in tomorrow to clean and take everything that belonged to them.

Quickly, I took everything that I could carry in my car. The sun has already set, and I needed to hurry if I had to make a second trip.

It was time to make a leap of faith.”

Dr. Salmaki finished her story.

“And look where that leap of faith took me,” she said, pushing the curtain away and turning on the lights to the opposite side of the laboratory.

All this time, Dr. Salmaki has been hiding a plethora of animals and organisms, several of which Herman had never even seen before.

“The meteor’s element, when used correctly, seems to have the power to amalgamate one organism with another. Strangely, it knows what traits to keep and what to throw away. It knows what characteristics have helped each organism survive in its habitat.” she explained. She walked to one glass tank and motioned him to follow.

Inside was an egg, its shell resembling a tortoise’s.

“Of course, I’ve had failed experiments that didn’t lead me anywhere. But it just helps me learn what not to do, I suppose.”

It seemed to crack and split open, only to reveal its exact same form.

“An amalgamation of an unhatched chicken egg and a tortoise. This is its entire form. A shame, ain’t it? Well, it does what it does to survive, I suppose.” She said, soon dragging me to another glass crate. It seemed to be a regular hamster, except with the face of a pig.

He grimaced. A pig’s snout just didn’t belong on a hamster.

“The hamster’s food pouches helps it conserve food for an amount of time, and its snout can easily find food in its habitat. The tusks can help fend off predators, and its small size is helpful when escaping them. The swine’s social side and the hamster’s independent side seems to coexist. I’d consider this new species an ambivert, y’know, whatever that means to you..” She explained.

“The most contrasting the two amalgamating organisms are, the better. Look at the egg and the tortoise, they both shield themselves with thick shells to survive. And they would. But they wouldn’t last long. Natural selection would take the best of them, considering their lack to reproduce. At least that’s what I hypothesize.” she added. She led him into another room, its door hidden behind a pillar made of amalgamations tanks stacked against each other.

If Dr. Salmaki’s living space was overshadowed by plants, then her true laboratory was overrun by wires.

“Don’t electrocute yourself,” she remarked jokingly. It didn’t help with his growing panic at all. He fumbled over the hazardous thicket while she weaved her way through the web she had somehow made.

Approximately a third of the room was blocked off with glass on the opposite side. It was the only area he’s ever seen in this house empty, with the exception of a couple of unfamiliar machinery here and there.

She sat down on an office chair, its leather wearing down into stripes of black and exposed cotton. Behind it was a long desk, just as discorded as the floors and walls.

“Jesus Christ, Do you ever clean up, like at all?” he snapped out of anxiety. She shrugged.

“It only wastes time from what’s really important,” she replied nonchalantly.

With a simple hit of a button on her computer, the glass slowly began to swing open.

“The glass worked as a divider between me and the two organisms, so I wouldn’t get amalgamated with them. But I suppose we don’t need it now, do we?” She asked, chuckling softly.

“What’s going on?”

“Think for yourself.”

He took a brief moment to collect his thoughts to bring a conclusion. But what he came up with didn’t make sense at all.

“You’re going to… amalgamate yourself with me?” he asked carefully, hoping for a correction.

She nodded, unable to hide her smile.

Questions flooded Herman’s mind, yet at the same time he didn’t want to know anything.

“At first glance you might be the last person anyone would ever want to combine themselves with. No offense, by the way.”

Herman was too baffled to be insulted.

Dr. Salmaki stood up and marched right over to the one-legged boy. She seemed to take his silence as a ‘“none taken”’, as she continued on.

“My grandson died from a common cold, Herman.” She said, a bitter undertone lying hidden from her nonchalant fashion.

“It doesn’t make any sense how you could survive for this long. There’s something special about you, something DIFFERENT from all the others.”

He tried to think of a solid reason as to convince her not to do this, to just go along with their lives as they had before. He could forever be under her command, a silent servant paid with unstable mercy. Or he could be her new grandson, immediately, almost forcefully adopted into a madhouse family. Either way, it would be difficult going back to his golden peak of the apocalypse. His golden peak ever in his life. He thought Dr. Salmaki was the person that finally understood him.

“You’re being irrational.” He finally argued.

With her signature cane, Dr. Salmaki struck Herman’s right foot. Without his own physical support system, he fell right into the rubbery nest of wires tangled across the floor.

The mad scientist pulled down a lever, a periwinkle gas escaping from the vents once contained beyond the glass door.

She crouched next to the amputee, taking his hand and holding it firmly as if silently saying goodbye.

“There is no rationality in faith.”

The gas, after slowly travelling across unfamiliar territory, finally reached the two human figures.

Swoosh.

---

Swoosh.

Wind flies through the ever expanding gaps in my body.

It’s chilling.

It would take more than a billion years for Earth to reset if humans were wiped out from the planet.

Not to boast, but it only took me seven years.

A tedious period of time, yes, but in the end I’ve got the job done. Who knew a monster born in a messy, purple clogged laboratory would be so beneficial to life?

And all it took was a meteor.

To be honest, humanity was doomed. Even if Earth had gone back to its Garden of Eden, there would be no way people could live in harmony, whether that would be between nature, extraterrestrials, or themselves. What would be the point of moving to another life-sustaining planet, if all humans would do is turn it into a self-obsessed cacophony? A human is a toxic cycle with no end, spiraling to their own demise.

That’s why their new home is not earth, mars, or any other undeserving planet, but my mind. They live in an imaginary world, an exact replica of a world without the meteor strike, minus the memories of the horrifying apocalypse.

It’s not fun. Their little society is an infection.

Somehow, I can amalgamate with anything and everything, even without the element extracted from the meteor. Except my physical body tries to reject anything and everything I try to amalgamate with. So whatever the amalgamation may be is temporary, until I’ve had enough of it and eject it out of myself, turning whatever organism that was once part of me into lifeless waste. Quite literally. The first human I ever tried to amalgamate with was spit out as some sort of foul and nasty slush.

I’ve learned to take better control of when that happens.

That’s why this time, the purge of this once major amalgamation is all controlled and consented by yours truly.

Lucky for them, this isn’t going to be a complete wipe out of humanity.

Just a ‘natural disaster’ so that, for now, the amalgamation would be a bit more bearable. I’ve envisioned it several times. A meteor would fall to earth. Everyone except a small minority dies either directly or indirectly.

Society is in crumbles, and society is quiet for once.

And so I do it. I close my eyes, focus on the little Earth I’ve created, and send out a lonesome shooting star toward them.

A horrible discord rings, pulsates through my mind and through the tips of my limbs, and it stops after a few seconds.

I open my eyes, stand up, and walk over to the hoarding garden I call my home. I pluck a couple of bananas, prepare and blend them, and put them in the freezer for a familiar dessert.

Ice cream isn’t exactly a priority when you have destroyed society.

Especially if you are, quite literally, one of a kind.

1 note · View note