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Tomorrow will be better.’ ‘But what if it’s not?’ I asked. ‘Then you say it again tomorrow. Because it might be. You never know, right? At some point, tomorrow will be better.’
Morgan Matson, Amy and Roger’s Epic Detour (via wordsnquotes)
seelesdog:
the little angel takes in their surroundings with awe while he watches her. there’s no snow yet, it’s a bit too early for that, but the trees are still growing bare and the atmosphere gray, gloomy. a contrast of grays, whites, and blues. this is death, and in a few months there will be rebirth.
hands slip from his pockets to envelope her own. circulation is low in his fingers which keeps the skin cool, but they’re certainly much warmer than the bitter air around them. they must look like quite the pair; two moonlight-haired, pale-skinned, red-eyed beings standing without coats in weather most would retreat to their warm homes to escape from.
maybe they look something like ghosts.
“i am. but it doesn’t bother me anymore.” thumbs press lightly against her palms. “the world is in the process of renewing itself, as it does each year. in time, everything will be reborn and the lilin will adapt and carry on as usual.”
The world isn’t what the scientists say, it’s big and confusing but she isn’t afraid.
Fear is what lies beyond after another lab session. And she thinks she can begin to understand how it is to let everything be. But her father is there, looking like her but not being her – it’s a concept she tries to understand. He irradiates warmth like the blankets lilin children carry. Not sterile cold, only a fuzzy feeling that makes her happy.
— If what she feels is happiness. The word feels strange to say, almost too long and unpronounceable. She thinks, one day, when the time is ready she will say it without her tongue playing against her.
“It doesn’t?” Childish fascination appears on her face. “How do you do it, Otou-san?”
The hand enveloping hers is warmer. It’s easy to forget, it always is around father, and a small part of her, a tiny voice resembling her own whispers ‘it’s unfair’. Her siblings need this and she’s the only near it. Would they look like her? Like father? If they were with them too, the world in front of them to discover – would they?
A squeeze. Her head tilts and eyes widen, babbling in chirps. “How’re you so sure? Daddy, are you waiting for the seasons to return?”
seelesdog:
❛ i like the stars. it’s the illusion of permanence, i think. i mean, they’re always flaring up and caving in and going out. but from here, i can pretend… i can pretend that things last. i can pretend that lives last longer than moments. gods come, and gods go. mortals flicker and flash and fade. worlds don’t last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. but i can pretend…
NAGISA KAWORU. est may 1st, 2016. art credit.
“Upbringing?” She puts a finger on her chin.
Aren’t you always fooling around? Pretenses are easier than confess a truth. Her skin is layers of metaphorical lies and masks – her father smiles to hide his pain, the lilin are the same too – and she plays around with the concept. Play clueless and let what’s hidden come if it’s curious enough.
“You mean what the lilin refer as education? I can’t say I was meant to have one.”
The sterile gloves, the smell of anesthesia and stained bandages are a far-away memory, in theory. Her lips curl up, a cheerful laugh bubbling at the idea of growing up without the constant presence of SEELE.
@ask-asuka-x-shinji | from here
some lame pictures of the stars
seelesdog:
“it’s too cold for you to be out without a jacket. i hope you don’t get sick.”
maybe he shouldn’t really be talking; he’s wearing his regular outfit with no winter apparel in sight, nose and cheeks flushed pink from the chilly air, but even then he seems hardly fazed.
The breeze is refreshing – and different from artificial, sterile oxygen from halls. But it’s unique, away from what little she knows of the world. Discoveries here and there, it surprises her how much she needs to learn. Tiny fingers seek for her father’s warmth.
“Are you cold, otousan?”
“Otousan?”
Am I doing this right? What is ‘right’? I don’t understand.
A hand tugs his shirt, fingers hesitant in the last instant. She doesn’t doubt a lot when it comes to her father. The idea is ridiculous but she watches over lilin of her physical age and wonders. Is this the closest she can be without hurting him? Is she stepping their boundaries? The answers are meant to be simple but for some reason, they aren’t.
“The lilin…” No, that sounds wrong. With a frown, eyebrows furrow in infantile concentration. “today is… what they refer as…” No. Not that way either. Again, disappointment for now knowing how to express.
He never pushes her away unless it’s necessary. What is she afraid of? Rejection is meant to happen and accidental merging isn’t supposed to be. She has come to understand this is the closest she can be to him without getting all ( safe, squeaky, warm ). But her father… he knows better than her.
She trusts his judgment. He makes her feel loved.
“Otousan,” she says and stretches her arms, feet almost hovering the ground. In her hands, the crown of flower reaches for his head. With a nod and a timid, cheerful smile, she places her gift with care. “Happy birthday!”
@seelesdog
yfip: me
-comes back for kaworu’s birthday
落書きとか by MC
Authorized reprint ✔ Do not remove source! Please rate and bookmark!
I am your daughter. I am your friend. But I am not yours. I am not an organ in your body. Without me you will not die. I am mine and mine alone. No one has the right to love me more than they love themselves.
heartheart18 (via wnq-writers)
kaworu remembers the first time he cried. tears hot and thick as they spilled from his eyes. when red splashed over his nose, the arch of his cheekbones. it had been confusing, startling, feeling the emotions of ayanami rei flood into him. frightening, unfamiliar emotions. sadness, pain, loneliness, love ( tepid, sticky, disgusting ). he was still young then, so unfamiliar with lilin and their world. taught that his only purpose was to bring about the end. isn’t that what SEELE had been conditioning tabuko to believe? that she had been created only to be a pawn. that it is her duty to die to accomplish their goals.
but her tears are not from another’s emotions channeling into her, her tears are from her own emotion so foreign, emotion she was never taught. yes, the little angel knew of love. that is because she loved her father. but she was subjected to pain, anger, abuse on a regular basis. much like he had been. they probably gave her no room to cry. kaworu remains kneeling, drops his hands so his fingertips press to the smooth floor.
an ache passes through him as he watches tabuko wipe desperately at her wet face. it’s in vain, the tears keep coming. kaworu hears those screams, too, but he’s learned to muffle them. to keep them in the back of his head, a dull hum. the fifth finally pushes himself forward, slides close to the child. the movement of his hands, his arms, is slow. it’s cautious. it gives her a warning that he’s going to touch her.
“they’re tears,” he murmurs, “crying is normal. it’s okay to cry. because of our lilin forms, we are capable of it.”
arms envelope her. the contact makes his throat constrict. there’s a burning behind his own eyes. when was the last time SEELE allowed him to touch her? when was the last time he allowed himself to touch her? tabuko is his progeny, his daughter. parental instinct remains. he does not wish for her to merge, but he desires that bond. yet that is something he does not voice. “it will be over soon. then this world will begin anew.”
Is that what this is called?
Tears, he calls them. And guides her to learn of them.
Her father speaks with a wisdom she wishes to understand. But her eyes, alike to her own, don’t mirror her instead they reflect how lost she encounters her existence in the world. Similar and not identical. She’s learning to grasp the resemblance puts a finality to there, the point when he begins and she exists. Does her father want her to understand? She doesn’t know but she wishes to.
His arms aren’t foreign. When was the last time she could wrap her smaller form around him? The answer is a blank space. Many things are incomprehensible like that. She tries to respite but a snort from her nose comes out and it surprises her. The feeling of wrong doesn’t lessen and her eyes don’t fail to continue stinging. The hall, the room, anything her eyes land to feels misplaced.
“Begin anew?”
I don’t understand. I don’t understand. I don’t understand. It screams inside her. The words scream, hiss and shout, bare and it’s a sensation similar to being attached to tubes and the needles, the plastic gloves from the scientists. Everything is stirred and the squeaky sensation isn’t an exception but it intensifies at Kaworu’s arms. Her father’s arms. Turmoil increases into her insides, a sensation of being rip apart and she squirms into her father’s chest, alert but the tears don’t stop.
“Papa…” Secure, warm, safe. The tears keep falling and it’s horrifying how the feeling of wrong gets worse with each second. But she clings more into him, hiccups causing her to shift constantly into his arms. The sensation isn’t voiced but she thinks Kaworu feels it too. He isn’t around as much as the scientists, still her father… she doesn’t doubt he understands her few words.
Her lack of speech. Her fear. The sensation of horror. He surely understands.
“… the Lilin are screaming.” A murmur. Nonetheless, her small hands hold onto him with desperation. She doesn’t understand the mortification that surrounds the place but the feeling is nothing the scientists have taught her. Lilin children are easier to observe when she is sent to interact but those who keep her in the room aren’t easy to follow. “They don’t stop, they don’t stop!”
"You are just as freaky looking as I remember. " Asuka adresses Tabuko with one hand on her hip and the other grasping a soda can. Why she had sought out the angel in the first place was in dispute even to her, but mostly she felt there was a score to settle.
“And you’reas impolite as ever.”
Her tonguerolls into distinguished venom. It lurks at the tips of her words but sheoffers an amiable smile, intention ambiguous to the Second Child. Fondnesscarries into her eyes, an emotion set in conflict since emotional ties havetheir consequences. With an overdramatic sigh, an elegant bow is given as apacific gesture. A truce of sorts.
Sometimes,she thinks of ending this overly complicated bond. Other times, it’s brushedaside since it brings amusement to her chaotic existence.
“I read in one of those books of psychology,modals reflect upbringing. Should we compare ours?”
❛ your eyes are a beautiful color, miss. i've never seen that shade before. ❜
A tilttowards the side. It’s almost comical but the notion is lost on the little girl.
“Beautiful?Mine?”
Disbelief echoesin her tone. Immediately, she opens her mouth and closes it before repeatingthe process. Words escape her and her comprehension of what she’s meant to say,what she’s supposed to say, what she’s able to say.
“Oh, oh! My…My dad…” Hesitation plagues her, utter shock from being free of saying thosewords out loud and share them with the world. Puffing her cheeks into athoughtful gesture, she spreads her arms timidly. “He… He has the same color! I…I got mine from him…”
Like otherhuman children, she mimics playing with the hem of her clothes. But her smile issincere, truthful and she giggles, flushing her pale cheeks. It’s difficult tofind a balance between how to act as a lilin and to get her own identity. Shelearns with each new day and her father guides her still she doesn’t doubt ofthe warmth in her tiny body.
Lilin childrenlove their parents. Angels do the same.
“He hasbeautiful eyes too!”
핑크 라난큘러스 부쉬
sorry for the absence! i was away in my other blogs and i didn’t have any inspiration for my drafts. i’ll be more active in the next days but for now find me here.
continues backing away. trips. falls on his ass.
gasps and runs happily. chirps more.
… backs away. slowly.
chirps. follows him with excitement.
