heliophile.

23. civilian. gig worker.

[rei-amamiya]

about.

— basics.

name Rei Amamiya age 23 dob june 26 gender ???? pronouns they/them sexuality ???? hometown long island affiliation civilian job position gig worker education some high school relationship status single children 0 positive traits kind, loyal, attentive, creative, trying negative traits anxious, naive, needy, sensitive, impulsive

— biography.

(NSFW, triggers include dysphoria, homophobia/transphobia, depression, anxiety, disordered eating, masturbation, murder, blackmail)

When you think about being a kid, you think about the sunflower farm a few miles away from your house. In the summertime you used to ride your bike by it every day to swim at the beach. Everything is warm and bright. It’s hard to look back at it for very long before your eyes start to water. 

There is always something wrong. It’s easy to ignore when you’re little, but as you get older it gets worse and worse. Your clothes aren’t right. Then the things you like aren’t right. Then the things you do. Then your body itself. You can’t even look in the mirror without feeling sick.

You lose a lot of weight. You stop swimming in the summer. You stop talking to the people that used to be your friends. You drop out of high school. You hope someday that you’ll become so small that you won’t be there at all. You’ll vanish, and nobody,  not even you, will ever have to worry about what the fuck is wrong with you ever again.

At the start of it, your parents are worried about you. Then they’re angry with you. Then they circle back to worried again. They love you as much as they can but they’re not equipped to love all of you. They just don’t have the mechanism for it. You’re not a normal kid. You’re a depressed, strung-out failure and worse you’re -

You still don’t know how you feel about terms like gay and queer and trans. You can read about them all you like on the internet, but they still feel foreign in your mouth. They still feel wrong to say out loud, in your bedroom, which sits three meters down the hall from your parents room. It feels derogatory. Or like it’s an apology.

It’s the early morning when you leave home. The sun hasn’t even touched the sky yet. You stuff what you can carry into a backpack and you bike down to the ferry station. You don’t say goodbye to anybody. If your parents hear you pad down the stairs and out the door, they don’t do anything to stop you. It’s better for everyone that you disappear.

You spend your first winter in New York on a shelter cot, in a room with about 20 other people. 

When the spring thaw hits, you get moved into a halfway house. You just keep going from there. Work is easy to find and hard to keep. The kind you're suited for is the kind that makes you easily disposable. Your days are strung together by odd jobs and temp  positions and gig work. Somewhere along the line you manage to rent a shoe box of an apartment. You live. You're not really all that happy, but the very least, you don't actively feel like you're decaying inside of your own skin. You get to tape newspaper over the bathroom mirror so you don’t have to look at yourself. It's good. 

The cleaning job starts as some easy, cash-only gig. It's passed on to you from the girl down the hall because she’s leaving town. “It's just some house cleaning,” she tells you cheerfully. “The guys rich but he's not stupid. Doesn't want to pay all the extra fees for a maid service when he could just hire someone directly.”

You can't say no to the amount of money he's offering. As it turns out, you can't say no to much when it comes to the guy offering the money either. He's nice to you, not just polite but actually nice. Some nights, he insists you stay to have a drink with him and chat. He actually seems to mean it when he asks you how you’re doing. He fucks up your pronouns constantly but he always smiles and apologizes when you correct him. Once, he reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder to tell you that you’ve done a good job. It's the first time that someone has touched you in months. 

You masturbate while thinking about him an embarrassing number of times. There's probably a lot more to unpack there but that’s the least of your worries now. Point is, you like the guy. You like him a lot. More than you should.

It's why you don't ask questions when he sends you on his little errands. Looking back, that was really fucking stupid . In the moment, he's smiling and offering you a lot of money to do just one little thing. It’s delivery work, mostly. You carry packages and letters all around the city for him. Sometimes, you imagine the city is a giant web with his house at the center. You’re just some yellow spider on a barely functioning three speed bike, carrying messages down along the threads. (At this point, it’s probably more appropriate to think of yourself as a fly.)

The final package is a thumb drive. It’s one of those tiny models, silver and barely an inch in length. Easy to overlook. You don’t even know you're carrying it at first. He must have slipped it into your backpack as he walked you out. You’re not sure what he wanted to happen. Maybe he hoped you wouldn’t find it; that he could slip it out of your bag the next time you were over. You’ll never find out. 

What actually happens is that you find it the next morning when you’re hunting for your bus pass. A normal person might have just thrown it away, or kept it, or assumed it could be from any one of their three part time jobs. But you’ve got an unhealthy little crush to foster and you want to see him. You hope that he’ll be happy to see you. You’d like it if he was happy. He’s been looking so sad recently. There’s been this anxious shine in his eyes. You know now that it was fear. 

You see the red and blue flashing lights before you see the crowd. People are packed together so tightly that you’ve got to stand on your toes to get a look at the front door. Two men in EMT uniforms are wheeling out a black bag on a gurney. You stop looking after that. 

You don’t cry on the bike ride home. You can’t quite wrap your head around it. Last night he was alive. He stood in his kitchen and he smiled at you and you wanted very badly for him to touch you but you didn’t ask. He’d snuck an extra fifty into the envelope of cash he’d handed you on your way out. You giggled like an idiot when you saw it. He wasn’t supposed to die. 

Maybe it was another dead body they’d wheeled out of his house. Maybe it was all some big mistake.

None of that turns out to be true of course, but it’s comforting to cling to while you’re still in shock and your brain isn’t ready to process reality. You don’t even end up looking at the flash drive until the next day. You don’t have your own computer so you have to use one at the library. You make sure to find one facing the corner, just in case. That turns out to be a good choice. 

There’s a lot on the flash drive, mostly jpegs and videos. Whatever labeling system he used looks like gibberish to you so you just click on one. You instantly regret it.

You’re only in the library for another ten minutes before you yank the flash drive out of the computer and stalk out. You go back to your apartment. You lock your door. You check the latches on your windows twice before you crawl into bed and proceed to have a panic attack.

There’s still a lot that you don’t know. You don’t know why your former employer died, or why he decided to slip the flash drive to you of all people.

But you do know that you’ve now got a little metal stick in your possession that holds blackmail photos of some of the most important people in the city. You also know that you are totally fucked. TLDR; Grew up in a lower class neighborhood in Long Island. Experienced depression and dysphoria from a young age. Left home around 21 and ended up in the city. Homeless for a half a year before they got on their feet. Ended up cleaning for a mysterious rich guy (TM). Do some shady deliveries for him too. One night, they unknowingly get slipped a flash drive with blackmail materials on it. Their employer gets murdered later that night. Rei finds out about the flash drive not long after.

— extras.

appearance Baggy and second hand. They have an affinity for long sleeves, and nature-themed graphics. Think cozy-core on a  budget.

health Habitual smoker, both cigarettes and marijuana. Eats and sleeps poorly. Does not live well. Despite these issues, life finds a way.

wants Survive. Get their GED. Maybe go to community college. Explore the queer community. Top surgery.

needs They need for people to be happy that they’re there, to miss them when they’re gone. To care. They’ve spent a lot of their life trying to disappear. They want to stop doing that now and they’re not really sure how. It does not really matter to them if they’re a good person, only a necessary one.

likes Sunrises. Spicy doritos. Free stuff. Manga and comics. Their bike.Swimming.

dislikes Rude customers. Bitter foods. Being yelled at. Cruelty.

— wanted connections/plots.

darkness follows (OPEN/MULTIPLE) You’re someone interested in the information on Rei’s flash drive. Maybe you’re a gang member looking to use it to blackmail someone in the city. Maybe you’re a victim and you want to delete that photo at any cost. Regardless, you want that flash drive and you’re willing to do what you have to to get it from this little nobody. prime suspect (OPEN) You’re investigating the murder of Rei’s late employer. Be a cop or a gang affiliated acquaintance or a journalist or whatever! The world is your oyster just as long as you’re on the hunt!

family ties (OPEN/Muses of Japanese descent preferred) You’re a cousin or older sibling who’s aware of Rei’s disappearance. The last place you expected to find them was in the city. employer (OPEN/MULTIPLE) Rei’s broke as a joke with zero qualifications and rent to pay. They will take work wherever they can get it. Need a house cleaner? Extra server? Dog walker? Baby sitter? Food delivery?? If it’s entry level and it pays, Rei will do it. shady employer (OPEN/MULTIPLE) The unfortunate reality of taking any old job you can find is that...well sometimes the work just isn’t completely legal, so to speak. You’re a less than savory employer who’ll pay an above average wage for Rei to do some less than savory work. and they were roommates (OPEN) Making rent in New York City is no easy feat, especially for someone trapped in a thankless vortex of part-time employment. Rei’s willing to do what they can to make ends meet and that includes co-habitation with strangers.

—  misc.

pinterest

aes tag

playlist

[rei-amamiya]

ofspectres​:

     ——————

If there’s anything in this world that he cannot seem to afford with the abundance of wealth in every aspect, it would be anonymity. The persona of his incognito vigilantism act is rather… undisclosed, but it’s still quite expensive with all its drawbacks. While most of the time 0 would be too obscure for any media to cover his presence, amidst all the chaos that recently occurred in the city as well, this façade still needs an upkeep, and that’s where another arbitrary call for the ‘deep cleaning’ was arranged.

He doesn’t truly care who, or even what, as long as the person’s background checks out—no gang affiliation, no history of violence, and essentially… none, nothing on the deep or dark web. It’s simple to hire the service, and he finished all his lists before the designated day; its arrival cuts a bit too close for his schedule that he has to scamper towards the foyer to personally answer the door. Failure to do so might jeopardise some parts of his plans, so he cannot afford that; everything has been arranged meticulously, after all, including having the permit for this specific ‘Rei’ person to be able to enter the premise seamlessly, reaching his front door.

He answers the door after the second knock, semi-breathless. They certainly haven’t been exposed to this latest technology called the ‘doorbell’—either that, or 740 Park’s image has preceded itself with its classic ornaments that perhaps there are assumptions, making them believe there’s no such thing as a ‘doorbell’. Either way, Maxence raises his eyebrows at the sight of the cleaner. “Yes,” he nods. “Yes, come in.” He steps aside, ignoring the weird glances cast their way; of course, with half a dozen of maids around the living room alone, he shouldn’t have needed any extra force to do the cleaning, but this room is… an anomaly, where he keeps most of his latest self-constructed gadgets. It’s easier to hire an anonymous worker that he can detach from effortlessly after the pay.

“Follow me,” he gestures as he strides towards the second floor of the abode, leading towards his so-called leisure room. He doesn’t wait for the stranger to keep up with him, knowing that typically they’d be eager to tail him. “Just one room. Don’t open anything, don’t mind me while I’m working. It’s mostly just… cleaning the surfaces.” He leads them to the room at the end of the hallway, where the marbled floor is polished, the million dollars’ worth of arts are displayed, mounted on the stark white walls. Rothko, Pollock. He opens the door into the modernised leisure room with its private bar, as well as centralised sleek black billiard table, as well as a home theatre installed on a side.

But that’s not where the job is. In the corner, the bookshelf is already pushed open, leaving the crevasse into his ‘reading’ chamber open. He’s shoved everything into the deposit boxes. None of his latest invention should peek out, nor would the cleaner be able to see his equipment. He enters the large concrete-slab room with minimalist approach to interior, if anything. Most things are well-hidden, shoved into drawers, alongside the full-length steel cupboards, covering the farthest wall and its right. The left of the room is filled with shelves of books, chosen to be covered with the Windsor Corporate’s logo to illustrate the idea that it’s his work room. He situates himself in the middle of it all, where a long white marbled table with black rims is at. Sitting on the cushioned black seat, he offers the cleaner a crooked smile. “If anything, don’t ask why it’s so… dusted.” After all, he’s done too many all-nighters here, its black granite floor witnessing too many acts of defilement in the name of technology, so the debris would have accumulated from all those projects from a month ago.

    —————— Rei doesn’t even have words. They’ve worked with wealthy people before but they’ve never worked with anyone this wealthy. Following their would-be employer inside feels like stepping into an alternate reality where everything is shiny and clean and made of marble and- holy SHIT that is a Jackson Pollock. Rei’s stares at the painting for al long time. They’ve got to scurry to catch up with the homeowner. The prospect of losing sight of him is actually kind of terrifying. They’re not sure that they’d be able to find their way around if they were alone. They nod along with whatever he’s saying. It’s the usual “Don’t touch any of my expensive stuff with your poor hands” kind of stuff that they’ve heard a thousand times before. They’re about to open their mouth to reply when they see the room. It’s clearly meant to be hidden. There’s no door, just a book case swung to one side. There’s some logos pasted around the interior but beyond that it’s all concrete walls and metal cabinets. There’s no door out on the other side, no windows either. In gig work, there’s always an inherent risk that your employer is going to be some kind of creepy weirdo. Rei’s pretty good at turning a blind eye to most things, weird sex stuff, drugs, all kinds of illegal shit, but this- This is a straight up torture-murder dungeon. It all starts to piece together. The weird job offer. The sallow creepy man giving off assassin vibes. It’s about the flash drive. The man is still talking but by this point, Rei’s done listening. They drop their stuff and sprint in the opposite direction. Out this door and down the hall then it should be a straight shot to the stairs. Except it isn’t. Rei skids to a halt in front of a wall studded with unfamiliar looking doors. Shit. Fuck. They’re lost.

[rei-amamiya]

astrorahi​:

“No,” Rahi laughs, motioning a hand. “I’m—” Even more laughter. “It’s fine. Seriously. They say the tests are at random, but I don’t think NASA would be as shitty as to test me the morning after a gala. I think. That’s fucked up.” 

Often, he’d tried to time it just right. In between holidays, time away, and so on. The perfect day to get as high as humanly possible, without risk of consequence. At the very last minute, Rahi always chickened out. As it turns out, that badge he gets to wear is more important than any trip one could relax and dissolve into — no matter how strongly craved. His careless years are over — he’d have to settle with envying Rei instead.

“If that makes you feel better, I’m a vegetarian.” No shrimp cups, entirely fine by him. Rahi nods, “Nope. Some rule made up by Reagan, who was probably a square.” Then, that genuine smile can’t stick to the shadows — and bursts its way through. “I hope so.” Beat. “It’s a long process, but yeah, I’m trying.” 

Most, don’t even know that fact. A privilege, and something comparable to a curse. Rahi pauses, thinking the reverse as he catches Rei’s aura. “What are you doing after this?”

“That uh, would be pretty screwed up,” Rei agrees, even though they’ve got no real clue about what is in or out of bounds for NASA. “But uhm, I guess that’s the price you pay huh, for well, uh, getting to go up there.” They motion towards the sky. Thanks to the light pollution, there’s no stars in New York, but Rei still has faith that they’re there, just beyond the ever present halogen haze. “S’probably a different kind of high, well, I mean, I wouldn’t know.”

They nod along with Rahi as he speaks, noting his vegetarian comment. They’ll hunt him down the next time they get handed a tray of tofu rolls then. 

“Yeah, probably,” They agree, mouth twitching a little. “Wasn’t Reagan, like...the ultimate square? One square to rule them all-” And okay, they’re dipping into too nerdy territory now. Time to stop that. Rei takes entirely too long to answer Rahi’s next question. They can’t very well tell him the truth. Their plans are to finish their blunt, eat the least expired thing in their fridge, then maybe masturbate a little before bed. If they were to admit that aloud to Rahi, they’d probably turn to dust before they even finished their first sentence. “I dunno,” They warble out, suddenly insecure. “Nothing much, just uh, hanging out.”

[rei-amamiya]

Location: Community Garden @rep-ashtonortega There’s often a sense of guilt that comes along with attending these community events. They’re not part of the community. They don’t contribute. They’d never have set foot in this neighborhood garden if it weren’t for the promise of free food. Even as they accept a city subsidized hot dog, they carefully dodge a request to look at some kind of volunteer sign up sheet. Working for money is already hard enough, they’re not about to waste their waking hours working for free.

From there it’s easy to disappear. This isn’t exactly a food secure neighborhood. There are plenty of hungry people to blend in with. Beyond the crowd there’s plenty of random spaces, shielded by plants that they can hide out in. They’re debating whether or not to go back for seconds when they hear the gravel crunching behind them. “Hi-” They say quickly, nervously. Regardless of how long they’ve lived here, they’ll never really be rid of that sense that they don’t quite belong. “Nice day out. Uh, great plants.”

[burningxloves]

The fact that her ego was the thing that hurt more than her body worried Ophelia. Sure she has bruises and a pretty nasty black eye, but it was the fact that she had been bested. It wasn’t a fair fight to begin with, but still. Grabbing coffee for the morning, her glasses covering her face along with the hood of her sweatshirt, the woman walked out of the shop with her bag on her shoulder. Mentally going over everything she needed to accomplish at work as well as trying to figure out an excuse for everything was going to be tough, but lying was what she did well. Paying attention however, was not. She didn’t see the person infront of her till she had ran into them, spilling her coffee all over the sidewalk. looking down at it with a sad face, Ophelia sighed before looking up at them. 

“Well, that sucks. Sorry about that.” 

[rei-amamiya]

Rei exhales, letting their entire body relax. It had tensed on automatic the moment they collided with the woman.  She isn’t grabbing them or hitting them and the scalding coffee in her cup is steaming on the cement and not on their clothes. They’re okay. They’re safe.

“That’s alright, really,” Rei tells her, hands twisting around the strap of their bag. “I don’t think either of us got burned so it’s all fi-” And that’s when they see her face. “I-uh, uhm- are you, uh, do you need help?” They ask, motioning awkwardly at their own eye.

[astrorahi]

@rei-amamiya​​

Ahead of him, Rahi has a night full of good behavior. Sure, his personality still shines through — much to the dissatisfaction of those who wanted him tame —, but there were still boundaries he tried containing himself to. He’s got a quick  tongue — so the moment he senses it wrestling itself free and into daring territory, Rahi pushes through the nearest exist, leading him out into the night.

“God,” he sighs, coming to face Rei on the balcony. “I hate you, man. You know I can’t be around that.” 

Rahi’s jealous, is what he means of Rei’s lit blunt. No judgement, there — Rahi had smoked from early in his teenage years up until he’d been strictly forbidden to. NASA is both fair — and a goddamn square — in such requirements. Then, 

“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” he says. What Rahi really wants to ask about, is Rei’s most recent math exam — and if all the effort had been worth it. But one of them bears a blunt, and the other, a drink; the last thing to be discussed is academics. “Are you working a gig, or—?”

[rei-amamiya]

Somebody palms them a blunt as a tip. Rei doesn’t question good luck when it happens to them, so they slip out onto a balcony the first chance they get. Leaving their apartment is still an anxiety inducing task, and subbing in to cater some fancy party has only made the matter worse. They’re tired and keyed up and they want to be high. If their boss takes umbrage with them smoking on the job -well, he never really hired them so he can’t really fire them either. They don’t expect to see Rahi, but they’re not exactly surprised either. He’s a different class of person from them after all, the type that gets shot into space for science. It’s only through Rahi’s seemingly endless generosity that they share a relationship at all. “Sorry, I’ll put it out,” they say, stubbing the end of the joint as carefully as they can. They’re not really sure how to store it, but their body violently rebels at the idea of wasting good weed, so they stand awkwardly cupping what’s left of it in their hand. “I uh, I’m catering,” they tell Rahi, motioning awkwardly at their ill fitting uniform. “On break now- obviously- so sorry, no shrimp cups.” Having a functional conversation with a handsome, successful person is very hard work. Rei flounders for something else to say. They want to be engaging to this man. He’s nice, and stable, and he’s probably going to be the sole reason they get their GED. Rei likes him. They want him to like them back. “So you uhm, can’t do drugs? Is that because- are they going to put you back in space?”

[rpmusingsforthesoul]

The Office Season 4 Sentence Starters

Feel free to change pronouns and such

“You know, generally it’s not a good idea to click on any internet offers that you haven’t requested.”

“I have some bad news, this morning __ was hit by a car.”

“Why did you do it? Was she talking back?”

“Guess what. I have flaws. What are they? Oh I don’t know, I sing in the shower, sometimes I spend too much time volunteering, occasionally I’ll hit somebody with my car. So sue me.”

“You cracked my pelvis.”

“Do I need to be liked? Absolutely not. I like to be liked. I enjoy being liked. I have to be liked. But it’s not like this compulsive need to be liked. Like my need to be praised.”

“I’m not superstitious but I’m a little stitious.”

“Blink once if you want me to pull the plug.”

“I’m having relationship problems and since you’re always having relationship problems, I thought you’d be able to give me some advice.”

“Oh I’m sorry is this a working office and not a French beach?”

“I want you to tell me that you care about me, that is what I want!”

“Big strong man, fancy new whatever. I don’t think you ever cared about me”

“I can’t do this. I can’t be with you.”

“WHERE ARE THE TURTLES?!”

“I drove my car into a fucking lake.”

“You don’t even know what stupid is! It’s about to get all stupid up in here!”

“I DECLARE BANKRUPTCY!”

“Tell me again why I can’t join your club.”

“Let me ask you something, did you accomplish what you wanted?”

“What was fun about it for you? Was it the death of the twins?”

“You’re ugly and I know it for a fact ‘cause I got the evidence right there.”

“What are you doing with my diary?”

“Mmm. Sort of an oaky afterbirth.”

“I don’t care what they say about me, I just wanna eat. Which I realize is a lot to ask for…at a dinner party.”

“Fine, you win! Let’s have a fucking kid!”

“I can’t prove it, but I think she might be trying to poison me.”

“What part of shorn’t don’t you understand,___?”

“No question about it. I am ready to get hurt again.”

“You’re asking what I do with the checks that people write me?”

“After ___ left me, things did not go well. And it was hard to see…It’s just nice to win one.”

“I will be honest, the dating has not been going well.”

“Stop calling me so I can put on my dang socks.”

“The more I’ve gotten to know you, the less I’ve come to respect you.”

“I figured I’d look presentable. You…went a different way.”

“If the devil were to explode and evil were gone forever, what sort of party would you have? Like a beach blow-out or a toga?”

“I want an anti-gravity machine.”

“Only one of us can be the winner. Spoiler alert; I’m gonna win.”

“Actually it was when I heard her voice. It was love at first see with my ears.”

“I am going to propose tonight. Holy crap.”

“Wipe the knife off before you stick it in the jelly! have you ever made a sandwich before? Damn it, ___!”

“You cheated on me? When I specifically asked you not to?”

“You know, somehow after all those ribs I’m still really hungry. I was thinking of maybe going off campus somewhere and getting some dessert?”

[levmovska]

LEV | ABE | SAM

[rei-amamiya]

Rei’s not really ready to re-enter the world. There’s still the grief, and the terror beyond it. But before any of that, they are poor. Eviction is only a few weeks away if they don’t scrape enough money together for rent. So they’re back outside, taking whatever work they can get. In this case, that’s cleaning up some rich person’s apartment. It feels weird to break out their gear. They haven’t used it since- No, they’re not going to think about that. They’ll replace their things whenever they can afford to next. That might be a long while from now but it doesn’t bear consideration. What’s in front of them is this job and the rent money behind it. Another month in their apartment. This is how they reach the future, by putting one foot in front of the other. Their first attempt to knock at the door is too soft. Their second sounds entirely too loud. They’re already wincing and apologizing by the time it swings open. “Sorry about that, uh, hi, you called for a deep cleaning?”

[homoerotisch]

Twenty, by Silas Denver Melvin

Twenty

it is your almost birthday. you are reading richard siken, which is to say you are homosexual & panicked by your existence. you have ice cream for breakfast & cry into the evening. you tell your mother im sorry, ill pay you back. im sorry, ill clean up the mess. you tell your mother im sorry you spent all that time carbonating me inside yourself just for me to end up the way i am. which is an apology for being homosexual & panicked. the other you is crouched in the corner. teeth grow in places you would not expect teeth to be. the other you is all bite because he knows you have nothing to mourn. it is your almost birthday. you’re so polite with your sadness. you don’t want to ruin this for anyone. you’re good at that. your crumpled body. your anxiety vomited out like confetti. your eyes weeping like split oranges. you are going to be 20 & you are going to be a wailing asteroid for the rest of your life. 2 years ago you were supposed to be dead. you have outgrown your gender & your jeans. you tell your mother im sorry, i love my sadness so immensely, i don’t know who i am without it & what you mean is i have not come home without expecting someone else to be in my spot at the dinner table in so long, im not sure i was ever born to belong in the first place.

[transangelicism]

regarding the röttgen pietà, elle emerson