Origami Around
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
$LAYYYTER
Misplaced Lens Cap
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Jules of Nature
tannertan36
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
art blog(derogatory)
sheepfilms
PR's Tumblrdome
No title available
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Love Begins
Kiana Khansmith
Xuebing Du
wallacepolsom
Keni
No title available
trying on a metaphor
seen from Singapore
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seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
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@gotmyvalues
Pokémon Giveaway!
luxaeterrna:
If you reblog this in this next two hours, starting at 5:00 PM Central US time and ending at 7:00 PM Central US time on 11/27/2013, I’ll send you a Pokémon based on the character you roleplay. Make sure to have your submit box open! Anyone can reblog it, so have fun guys, and be sure to treat your Pokémon like family!
valiantmaster:
The vibe emitted by he that stood before the fighter had instantly triggered a sense of discomfort. He seemed…cold—in a sense. Like a clash of blades had the pair’s personalities seemed to collide. Though the ravenet certainly wasn’t one to back down merely due to an individual’s anti-social nature. His body language alone had displayed evident hints that the stranger wanted nothing to do with the fighter. Almost like Silver,
Sheesh.
—These two must be related…
❝You look cool. Heh.❞
He acknowledged the fighter’s presence. Thus, he wouldn’t be departing from the scene just yet—even if his reason for displaying interest was a bit 'childish.' With only a single glance would it become evident that crimson hues examined the stranger’s attire. It was…different for a trainer; he’d never seen anything like it, in fact. Oh, perhaps he was just unique to those that the fighter had encountered previously. He wouldn’t see reason in bringing up the topic due to such assumptions. ❝—Oh! M’Red! Almost forgot to mention that.❞
From curiosity to irritation would the rodent’s emotional drift slide. The creature once lively alongside his trainer now silent as ebony hues nearly began glaring at the unfamiliar male.
[♫] Well, that was new. It wasn't every day that he was speculated from afar simply because someone took to his choice of clothing. He was sure Shiki would have cringe at the raven's compliment, insisting that the tangelo boy was far under acceptable fashion standards and dress code like that shouldn't be encouraged. He scoffed aloud at the mere thought of the scenario. Cool. He thought he looked cool. Take that, Shiki, not everyone is on board with your fashion crap. By virtue of opposing her alone, the kid already had bonus points. He wouldn't usually pay mind to someone like him, but if he was on Neku's side of things, why the Hell not crane his neck out a bit? Might as well do it for someone he could actually tolerate.
❝Try telling that to a friend I know and see what happens.❞
He hadn't noticed it before... but what the hell was at the guy's feet? It stood akin to that of a guard dog, glaring at him with abysmal black orbs that made him want to take a step back for good measure. He didn't know what he did, but whatever it was, the yellow thing didn't like it. He blinked, returning the stare for a second longer before returning to the boy's eyes, his own brimmed with perplexion. ❝Mind if I ask why you have an angry yellow rat at your feet? He — looks like he's ready to pounce.❞
Was it something that mimicked Shiki's stuffed piggie? A way to channel his psychomancy? Not that it would be useful to him in the RG, but that could be one explanation as to why it stood in such close proximity. Then again, it could just be a rabid pet of his. Amdist worrying about his safety, he nearly forgot to return the introduction in kind. He assumed a casual stance, playing off his concern with a placid expression as he muttered, ❝...The name's Neku.❞
mako-eyed:
This kid belonged to the slums, it radiated off of the teen himself. Did this kid even have ears or were they just disguised as the technology wrapped around his head. Examining the male Cloud sighed, his arms were like sticks and his skin tone quite snow white. Children these days do not go out often, but that was no the blondes problem now was it. Even his hair was quite spiky.
Was that a 'tampon' hanging against his shirt. Enough criticizing Cloud, he is just growing through a phase. Anyway, back to business there was no way this teenager was old enough to be visiting a bar in the first place. ”Well, you’re standing in my bar, and you are clearly under aged…" maybe he was lost, or just wanted some soda. Wrapping digits around the glass of the cup and a nearby rag the older male started to clean it out while waiting for the younger males answer.
[♫] He could feel the stranger bore holes into him with his blatant stare, and he could almost taste him scrutinizing things about his outward appearance that was deemed unusual by most. Whatever. He didn't dress to impress, anyway. It was strictly about comfort, as far as he was concerned, and who cared if some stiff bartender made judgements about how he came across?
❝Hmph. Clearly under aged? Try a year under. I'm not interested in your alcohol anyway.❞ Dunno what gave him that impression. Alcohol was for the emotionally distressed and lonely, and while he did have a thing or two on his mind, he didn't mind solitary. Not one bit. Solitary was the diamond in the ruff full of people and tourist-centered shops. ❝Don't you have regular drinks? Ramune or something?❞ Any bar that was kid-friendly had the usual Ramune, fizzy, carbonated drinks that were sealed with a glass ball, something to tinker with when your attention span drifts. That's what he took it as, anyway. It was probably some nifty tool used to keep the liquid inside from spilling, if he wanted to analyze it from a mechanical perspective.
His tongue flicked along the inside of his mouth. He couldn't deny that the roof of his mouth was dry, and even if he did wonder in by chance, there was no harm in rehydrating before showing himself to the exit. He took a seat one over from where the man stood, keeping his gaze trained on the counter top. The less he had to say, the better.
I hope one day I'll be important enough to someone to be included on a follower forever.
Once you get this, you must share five facts about yourself. Then pass it on to your ten favorite followers. ( ✿)
i. I’m obsessed with Chai tea. ii. I’m obsessed with Square Enix games. iii. I’m obsessed with collecting Pokémon merch. iv. I’m obsessed with the art of cosplay. v. I’m obsessive.
Since it's MUNday.. could you post a pic of yourself? I'm curious.
OutOfPsych; Oops, this is kind of sort of late, but sure, anon~ It’s only fair since I haven’t finished anything on my mun page, and I’ve been around long enough for people to start wondering. Don’t worry, guise, I’m the best at pages. So punctual. Much complete. Yes.
lionheartedlament:
(Odd—.) That was his first initial thought when he’d stepped past the threshold in an attempt to venture toward another realm. Unstable, boisterous, unnerving came afterward; but none of those adjectives held water to what he was currently having to experience. Discomfort would have been putting his sentiment toward this place ‘lightly.’ Ironically, it did not seem too far off from something he would expect from Esthar; just that it held more of an articulate, abstract visage. As if the reality of this place was broken into pieces, or it could be that his related power as a Sorceress Knight made him more sensitive toward this sort of phenomenon. And unlike those that purposefully shattered the boundaries that lay dormant between worlds, he seemed to meld through without much hesitance. His overall intention was not to be dropped here; but there are far worse places that the lionhearted Commander could have been stranded. Go thorough one expanse of compressed time, and you’ve more-or-less viewed them all.
His expression did not waver, instead the heavy footfalls of his leather boots just joined the symphony of waltzes that surrounded him. One followed the other in succession, until he was almost entranced by the movement and cascade of heels, dresshoes, and sneakers. Too much, his subconscious recoiled. Unused to sharing personal space with literally cramped conditions; and if he were completely honest with himself, it made him far more uneasy then a battlefield with an enemy’s vantage looming down. He is both lucky, and extraordinarily unlucky that the youth now at his side took notice of his presence. While he might seem awed, the light-haired boy seemed to take his neutral stance as someone coercing for their guide. In the lion’s case, it is humorous; he is the complete opposite—. "Lucky you, I’m not looking for that ‘kind of guy.’" Monotone, the vocalization of the leather-encased male ducked underneath the fur-lining of his bomber jacket. Covered digits stagnant atop of his hipbone, he angled his pelvis forward; lidded irises beginning to open up and display more bemusement toward the child’s assumption. "I must have given you the wrong impression," he ambled, continuing his near-silent train of thought with mere utterance. (—Just looking for my exit, stage left. Didn’t mean to intrude on your turf, kid.)
[♫] Shibuya was brimmed head to toe with people, a somewhat atypical number of bodies swarming to the stores that were stationed in every direction of the two. Likewise, in every direction, there was no hint of asphalt left untrammeled, the black color nearly invisible to the eye as murals of other color replaced it. A variance of shoes pattered against sod, creating a drone that was brethren to that of an army; an unstoppable force of irritation that carried on into the ebony of night. There was no peace when it came to a city like this. Only natives that knew it by heart could slither in between the crowd to a location hidden to tourists and prying eyes.
Neku was on his way to do just that when a man, lengthy in stature, snapped him from his music stupor, peaking his curiosity and prompting the deterrent to usher past the gateways of his lips. Though it could only be taken as harsh and reclusive, the reason he spoke up at all was because the other reminded him of someone; someone he had bumped into when winding up in — where was it again — Traverse Town? His thoughts trailed to Sora and his brief encounter with the boy, the way his kindness was nearly palpable, and as a result taught Neku a thing or two about the agency that kindness serves to create a bond between new people. If he had been Sora, after all, he wouldn't have stuck his head out for someone he didn't know.
Not to say he was going to be kind by any stretch of the imagination, but he could get away with neutral without becoming too uncomfortable. Besides, in relation to Traverse Town, the stranger could perhaps have some common ground that would fill him in on how a guy like him would end up in Shibuya. He didn't look like he belonged in the city, and something told him he may not even belong in the realm. After the strange events surrounding the Game and Traverse Town, ruling out other universes would be too closed-minded at this point.
❝Wrong impression or not, you still look lost.❞ He pressed the pause button on his music player, cerulean optics properly leveling with the optics that bore back, bemused. He didn't understand what was so funny about his introduction, but he didn't bother to ask. He didn't care enough. All he wanted was to swap information. ❝Where are you headed,❞ He eyed the furr rimming around his collar, his eyebrows perking with a sly bemusement of his own. He couldn't help but internally jeer at how out of element the stranger looked wearing something like that in mild weather. ❝Alaska? If so, you missed your mark by a couple of continents.❞
Reunion | Composer & Proxy
insufferable-snot:
It had been a long, long time since Joshua had spoken to Neku Sakuraba. He often wondered if the boy still remembered him, or thought about how the boy would react to seeing him again. Their last encounter was most definitely not the prettiest— he had even seen his Proxy shed some tears.
The boy was a human though, who had more than earned his chance to return to the Realground. Joshua was the Composer. He had duties to take care of in the higher frequency of things. Going back and forth to the different planes in order to “play” with his friend again was just out of the question.
At least, that’s what he told himself after all these years. Years of a very lonely existence that Sanae Hanekoma couldn’t quite fill the void. Joshua had never stopped watching Neku from time to time, and now, he had finally had enough of lingering the streets without a friend to talk to.
The two of them did forge a friendship, hadn’t they?
Waiting for the spiky-haired boy— pardon, young man— to waltz down a less crowded street, Joshua lowered his frequency to appear visible outside of the UG. His appearance was altered to reflect that of Neku’s age instead of the past fifteen year old persona he’d taken on.
"I would have thought having the Misaki girl as a friend would teach you how to dress yourself a little more properly."
[♫] Neku rounded the corner, slipping into the shadows provided by the Station Underpass. His music was blared to a deafening level by normal standards, the drone of standoffish lyrics matching hand in hand to his standoffish mood. He had been stopped by one too many freak-shows in a conclusive hour and it was putting him on edge. Any kind of human contact that lasted more than necessary dotted shivers along his flesh and spine. Not to mention it had him almost immediately retreating to a place where he could observe art, albeit shady and unfavorable by most. The Station Underpass, once a pristine place to mark up, had now become the arm-pit of graffiti canvases. Still, it was the closest place in relation to where he was before, and any kind of graffiti was better than nothing.
His eyes scanned primarily along black and white, one-tone tags that were created with shaky, first-comer hands. Scattered here and there were derogatory slurs, jabs made at fellow people, fellow gangs, fellow countries. He scoffed under his breath. ❝If you're going to insult someone, the least you could do is clean up the lines.❞ He ambled over to the spot that read 'Matsuba gang sucks' and ran his fingers along the textured wall, internally making note of all the ways the tag had gone wrong. ❝Your can control isn't the only thing that needs work. That's the best you could come up with?❞ Admittedly, he felt kind of dumb criticizing an artist that wasn't even present — if you could call 'em that — but maybe he just needed to say something that wasn't just small talk; maybe he needed to speak out about something that mattered to him. Graffiti had always mattered, and so did quality.
His body had just pivoted to continue on his way when he heard a familiar voice from behind him. He froze, his jaw clenching down in a grit. No. No way. There's no chance. He hadn't heard that voice since the Game, since he had been taught the valuable lesson of trust and who to hand it to. The unpleasant reminder alone had him uptight. Despite not turning around for conformation, somewhere deep down, he knew. He knew it was him, and he knew he'd be damned if he let that snarky greeting fly over his head without so much a snarky response to match. ❝Sorry to burst your bubble, but not everyone dresses to impress... Joshua.❞
clavium:
—「Ｒ」Oh no, he actually hit someone. Well now, this proved a number of things. One, apparently people don’t like being smacked in the face with ice cream, delicious as it is. And two, find a better makeshift blunt weapon other than a delectable frozen treat. Without a second thought he offered the treat to him, it definitely wouldn’t long before the treat melted, and it was the slightest way to make amends.
❝Free ice cream..?❞ He mumbled with indefinite nervousness plaguing his vocals. He had absolutely no self defense for himself, and if asked upon it he would admit it full heatedly. But for now, an apology was due… but not coming out.
[♫] Neku's unamused expression etched deeper into his facial features by the second, his eyes piercing into the blond's with irritability that was unmatched by any other idiot that day. Usually, his yard stick for idiocy was long enough to peg an array of unfortunate events. This, however, he didn't see coming. It wasn't often that people found it acceptable to smack strangers in the face with a frozen treat. He could still feel the sting branded along the nerves in his cheek as he responded in a begrudging mutter.
❝I think I'll pass. Something about being smacked in the face really kills my mood for ice cream.❞ More like kills my mood in general. ❝So what's the story? I reminded you of someone you didn't like, or what?❞ He figured he'd ask before he jumped the kid for making him his ice cream scapegoat. There was nothing wrong in asking about the motivation behind the dirty deed, even if it was likely to bring about murder.
glassmemoir:
{/This little orange haired, blue eyed bastard. She didn’t know if he was worse, or that other kid with the purple eyes. As he crossed his arms over his chest, she herself just flexed a bit. Showing off the bit of muscle that she did have should this dick choose to get stupid and get physical. Nicole might not win every fight she got into, but she could fuck a mother fucker up when provoked right. Plus, should Neku mess her up badly enough she could call on a couple of friends to do her dirty work for her. Peasants should never mess with a Queen.}
"Because oh, I dunno, i’s called bein’ tha bigger person? Bu’ then again, I guess yer torso ain’ tha only thin’ tha’s small on ya.” {/She looked him up and down a good couple of times with her lips pursed out as if to make a point. Stopping at his feet encased in those large, abnormal shoes. His feet couldn’t have been that big. They had to have been tiny as hell just like the rest of his body, minus that stupid hair that reminded her of a porcupine’s ass.} “Hip-Hop is no’ crap! Ya obviously haven’ lis’ened ta anythin’ good. Nex’ thing yer gonna tell me ya ha’e Reggae ta. An’ then yer gonna tell me ya ha’e Ghandi an’ all tha world Peace leaders.”
{/For a kid with no soul, he was pretty up and up on the dozens. Not bad. Still didn’t mean she was gonna take his shit. She wasn’t gonna back down until he did. Which meant this could go on until she was blue in the face. Or as purple as his ugly shirt.} “My family comes from all ‘roun’. So I go’ me a mixed accen’. An no. Why’ don’ ya take yer porcupine lookin’, hair dyed ass an move yerself over. I’m stayin here, an’ lookin’ a’ some good music. No’ tha’ ya’ll would know nuffin’ bou’ i’.”
[♫] His lips perked up at the edges, a hybrid of smirk and smile, and probably the only smile another human being would get out of him for the day. He didn't plan on meeting up with Shiki and Beat and Rhyme were up to their ass in school responsibilities, so that left the day to himself, which meant a peaceful, undisturbed brush through the AMX store to pluck a few of his favorite CDs from the shelf — or so he had thought. While it wasn't peaceful and it wasn't undisturbed, he had to admit that her insults were the perfect buffer for his own. It's like that were insult soulmates or something, destined to breathe each others' insults like air until they died.
❝I'm not interested in being the bigger person. I'm big enough as it is.❞ He put special emphasis on the latter of the two sentences, his words heavy and defiant with snark. Making anatomy jokes were low-grade and no better than that of a ten year old. He wasn't keen on letting that one slide no more than her extreme exaggeration of his distaste for Hip Hop. ❝Tch. You act like I just kicked your favorite puppy. Do you always act this obnoxious when someone calls you out for your poor music taste?❞ He passed a glance to the store owner, who was shooting them a sharp warning glare from up front. Apparently their clash of creeds had caught the attention of nearly everyone in the store. Dammit, I hate being watched.
❝Fine, you want me to move, I'll move.❞ He relented with exasperation, his optics holding fast to the pair that stared back with an intensity that was almost potent. ❝But not before I show you what actual music looks like.❞ He moved down an adjacent section, where akin to the Hip-Hop, the 'J-Rock' sign hung, showcasing an impressive collection of both new and old hits in the community. He scoured the names, fingers following the trail, until the desired CD was found and retrieved. ❝Track 9. Hologram. Just shut up and listen.❞
"Who the heck are you?"
Name: Vincent.
Middle Name: Elliot.
Height: KH2 Sora.
Birthday: October 13th.
Favorite Colour: Parrot Green.
Mac or PC: Irrelevant times a million.
Best School Subject(s): Creative Writing, Psych, Film, Graphic Design. Namely Creative Writing, Psych, and Graphic Design, because all three give more more muse than one person should be able to put out. Writing has always been my love language of sorts, the way I communicate what I need to in order to make it through the day. I’ve had a close knit relationship with words since I was a little dude, even going as far as to sleep with a Thesaurus because I was some kind of adjective overlord in the 3rd grade. Lulz. Psych is a subject I picked up without a sweat, having had people in my life that needed constant mental guidance, not to mention subjectively struggling with mental illness myself. Graphic Design has been a niche almost as long as writing has. GIMP and I have been together now for 8 plus years. Still goin’ strong.
Current Shirt Colour: Derp, derp, no fucking idea. I guess primarily black? Le Breaking Bad shirt [x] has a multitude of colors INCLUDING METH + the raddest Link hoodie since sliced bread. You can find one at the this neat store here ➔ [x]
Gamer: AM I EVER. KH [KH2, Birth By Sleep, Dream Drop Distance, 1.5], TWEWY, Okami, FF [10, Crisis Core, Online], Tales Of The Abyss, The Last Of Us, Pokémon [Red, Yellow Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald, Platinum, Soul Silver, Diamond, Black, X, Gale Of Darkness, Snap, Stadium, Stadium 2, Colosseum], Alice: Madness Returns, The Legend Of Zelda [Minish Cap, Twilight Princess, Skyward Sword, Wind Waker, Wind Waker Remake, Four Swords], Persona 4, Resident Evil 4, Ni No Kuni, + 19583062 more.
glassmemoir:
{This little shit. A smile still played on her face, she didn’t need anymore enemies in this city than what she had already. So for now she would just try to be as polite as she could. Without ripping his dick off and then his earlobes to go with it. Amber eyes matched the blue ones with that spark of anger, although her body language, changed to one of complete sassiness and poise. This boy wanted to go a bout? She could go ten bouts and still come out unscathed. So she let him speak, her posture and everything about her unwavering before she retorted.}
“‘Scuse me. Now I’ma admi’ I’m wrong in’ tha mids’ o’ reachin’ across ya like tha’. I shoulda jus’ wai’ed fer yer slow ass ta move ou’ tha way. Trus’ me I know how thin’s work in all places. Bu’ surely ya ain’ stupid ‘nough ta no’ know how excie’men’ works either. I saw somethin’ I liked, so I reached fer i’. An’ jus’ as I’m standin’ here poli’ely tellin’ ya off, ya could have done tha same in a nicer manner.”
"An’ Hip-Hop is no’ lame. Ain’ ya’ll ever lis’en ta tha Backspin? Somma tha bes’ Dj’s an’ Hype boys there is on somma these CDs. So while yer judgin’ my music, ge’ a better tas’e in foo’ wear. Yer shoes are lookin’ hideous an’ raggedy." {/Nicole was no pushover either. Similar things used to happen to her on a daily basis. Until she learned to stop taking crap and learned to start taking what she wanted. And no way in hell, was she going to let some complete stranger treat her this way just because she happened to reach across him. She apologized, that should be the end of it. Should this dickwad choose to let it drop.}
[♫] He hadn't met anyone like her. The usual go-to response for his kind of behavior was either a brief bout of unmatched irritation or submissive politeness, as though they suddenly have the power to snap to their senses and redress it all with a mumbled apology. But this girl, she had spunk. If he was completely honest with himself, a response like that, something that deviated from the boring norm, brought entertainment to his otherwise mundane day. He could appreciate that... to himself. She didn't need to know what would have been out of place to mention.
He sneered, his arms crossing indignantly across the plains of his chest, creating a metaphorical barrier between the two. He wasn't about to let this sasshole 1UP him. Not even in his most passive of dreams. ❝Why should I be nice about it if you don't have the sense to do it right the first time? If you see something you like and someone's in your way, you can wait it out like every other person in this store. Or, hey, here's an idea, you could tap me on the shoulder and ask me to make room,❞ he paused, reconsidering the realistic outcome of such an option, ❝— not that I would have listened. I'm doing you a favor by stopping you from picking up that crap.❞
Oh? Now she's bashing my shoes? That's just... low. ❝Like you have any room to talk. What's with the accent? It's making my head hurt. Do me a favor and move on to the isle over.❞ He notioned with a lazy jerk of his head to the said isle. Somewhere deep, deep, deep down, perhaps he didn't want her to leave. Not just yet. The banter kept him on his toes, gave him a boost where he needed it. But he couldn't expect her to stick around forever. They'd venture to different sides of the store eventually, as apparently, their music tastes were too polar to be close by.
glassmemoir:
{/Well, Nicole can’t really have an explanation as to why she was in Shibuya again. Frankly she was pretty pissed with the prince of priss, Joshua. She knew he came here often, but the shopping— It was so full of shops, just like NYC! So nice and so so many! And half of their shops were bigger and better! And they even had a ginormous CD shop! She had to check this out!
Quickly making her way inside, she just saw so many. They even had Reggae, Electro Pop House, and even some of her favorite French Artist. Like Les Nubians. Man this store literally had everything she could buy back home, plus things she would have to have shipped to her. Nicole wanted to check out more of the different styles they had there, more of the different artists she could find. But some dork with really stupid orange hair was in her way. So just….as politely as she could, pushed past him and spoke up, regardless if he could hear her or not.}
“‘Scuse me, Sugarplum. I’m tryna ge’ ta tha’ Hip Hop. Yer in my way.”
[♫] Whoa, whoa, whoa, who does this girl think she is? CAT? She wasn't anyone to be regarded or pardoned on his end, no one he knew or even gave a second thought about, past the rocky first impression she just gave him. His eyes flared with the indication of anger, his body language changing accordingly to the shift in mood that occurred as a result to her rude guest appearance. He wasn't about to let this kind of thing slide. He didn't speak out on regular occasion, but when he did, it was for good reason — and it's not like there was any shortage of stiffs stalking around Shibuya. This girl was evidently no different. Or maybe she wasn't even native to this place...
❝I'm not a ghost and you have eyes. You saw me standing there.❞ His tone of voice was raw with irritation; not exactly screaming but not exactly causal volume either. ❝What makes you think you can just push and shove until you get what you want? That's not how things work around here.❞
All things considered, she had to be a tourist. No one would be as bold to brush shoulders with him. Antisocial kids like him had a reputation for being aggressive when threatened, as if they were going to pull out a gun and start shooting or something. He didn't fit that mold by a mile, but that didn't mean he was a push-over either. Encounters such as these used to happen all the time in his mid-grade, and he learned the hard way not to allow similar behavior. Otherwise he'd teach others how to treat him. ❝... Hip-Hop is a lame genre anyway. Way too over-produced. Get a better taste in music.❞
inkina, lionheartedlament, masochisticsadist, conflorens, & aurora-eques started bugging you
[♫] ❝Just what I needed — more noise.❞
He sighed, adjusting the cushioning of his headphones to better prepare for conversations he would rather ignore. As much as he wished to, he had to crane his neck out a little bit. It wasn't realistic he could dodge the entire lot of them — which was as almost as unfortunate as the low battery life of his mp3 player. He stared hopelessly at the blinking red battery bar before addressing his unwanted company. ❝If you're looking for the grand tour of Shibuya, you might want to try someone who's qualified for it. Last I checked, I'm not your guy.❞
Surely, they'd get the hint, hit the road, search elsewhere for someone who could give them the hospitality they needed. It wasn't uncommon for people to flock to Shibuya for the the abundance of shopping centers located about. It would be a complete miss on their part if they visited and didn't jump at that experience. It was only natural for him to assume they needed some kind of assistance. He just didn't care enough to point them in the right direction. He had better things to do.
L E G E N D • C L O S E D
I can't even leave Shibuya. How am I supposed to e x p a n d my world?
[♫] Funny how life diverges like branches, following paths and possibilities and Fates that only an omniscient could see coming. Had he known just how expanded his world would become, he'd freak. He couldn't deny that he wanted out, wanted to escape to some place quieter, to some place secluded, with a population that barely broke 500. But he knew that'd never come to pass. He resigned himself to it, braced himself for a life of bustling people and glaring street lights. It's not like he didn't have friends he was responsible for. He couldn't just up and leave Shiki, Beat, Rhyme. It would be unheard of to have endured what they did and have it mean nothing in the end.
But damn, he could dream. And that's exactly what he did, with a twist to match. He slipped into REM later that night, his head running wild with all the endless lifetimes he could have, murals of color and plethora of experience flickering just out of reach behind his lids, exchanging one after the other almost too quick for him to register. It felt like it would never end — until it did.
After the seventh visual, he woke, his arms outstretched, the cool air of his room the first thing he consciously recognized. His body was twisted at an odd sleeping angle, his arms outstretched hand curled around a foreign object. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, then propped into a sitting position to examine the small, rounded...
Pin? Pin?! A reflex of fear, horror, he jumped from bed and switched the light, branching out his hand and flipping it at every angle, ensuring that a timer wasn't branded onto his flesh. When no such thing was sighted, he glanced back to the pin, his curiosity peaked, fueled, tossing it into the surrounding breathing space just to test it's weight and how it felt.
That's when everything changed.
Abruptly, without warning, without a how-to manual, he was transported into an unfamiliar, over-the-top luxurious somewhere, greeted with gates of gold and what appeared to be a bridge that reflected a translucent rainbow in the light. The in between was lost in a flash of white, fleeting images of stars and galaxies registering in his short-term for only a minute or so before fading to shock. Pure, unadulterated shock.
He gaped. It's all he could do, was gap. Was there any other called for reaction, after all? Time travel, teleportation, whatever is was that the pin set in motion... it didn't happen. Ever. Period. Or maybe it did, maybe it had been happening for centuries, and he never even knew it. All the grandeur amiss definitely wasn't of Earth. He hadn't seen every crevice, but he was certain translucent rainbow bridges didn't exist. That pin... is this what is does? Sends me packing to another planet? Or maybe... it gives you what you want most. This whole ordeal was crazy, there was no reason for Neku to opt out the crazy conclusions. No, that can't be right. I didn't sign up for a palace. He ran his thumb over the smooth surface of the pin, sucking in a quick breath. How did I get this thing? Where am I? And how do I get home? — I'm fresh out of space ships...
clavium:
—「Ｒ」Not so aggressively smacks people in the face with sea salt ice cream.
[♫] Neku blinks, too shocked and caught off guard to let his anger fester. ❝ — What the hell was that for?❞ He thumbs away at the speckles on his face, his arms layering one over the other in a fold, muttering half as a deterrent to ward away the blond, half as a mental note for future instances such as these. ❝Note to self: steer clear of nutcases with ice cream.❞ I'd give you points for creativity if I didn't already want to high tail it. Now how to get out of this place...
