b l o o d .

asch blog affiliated with citta-alveare. citizen housed in l-4.

[roosterlord]

(I’m so sorry for my delays -- school has started up again, so a fair amount of adjusting needs to be done. Hopefully, I’ll be back in the swing of things soon!)

[doctorgneiss]

Dead man walking.

At the first glimpse of red hair in the crowd, Dist had to know if, against what were surely impossible odds, that was one of his fallen companions (for a stretch of the term companion).

“Asch!”

The grin on his face was downright ghoulish.  The number of possibilities that could be true, if Asch was here … Dist could barely contain himself.

“I never thought I’d see you here, of all people.  It really makes me think: why, if you’re here, absolutely anyone could be.”

He gestured so broadly that he almost clipped Asch on the nose.

“First question: What’s the last thing you remember?”

[roosterlord]

Dist’s hand only narrowly missed him, doing nothing to lessen the scowl that darkened Asch’s face. He knew the look on the scientist’s face -- he’d had nightmares about it, years ago, when he’d still been naive -- and Asch’s glare turned just that much colder.

“Dunno.” A blatant lie; Asch remembered all-too-well the circumstances of his death. (Just because he and Dist had once been ‘comrades’ didn’t mean he would be cooperative. He vividly recalled the hand Dist played in how his -- and Luke’s -- life turned out.)

He folded his arms across his chest, eyes narrowing. “What makes you think I’ll answer any of your questions, Dist?”

[roosterlord]

@iraebellum

Perhaps, on second thought, that punch was a bad idea.

It’s cliched enough that even Asch is aware of it -- Asch, who hasn’t done, seen, or read anything even vaguely resembling entertainment in the past seven years -- and it certainly doesn’t make him feel any better.

(Because, honestly, who the hell would actually spike the punch?)

He narrowly avoids careening into someone, though he grabs onto a nearby pedestal-and-vase combo to steady himself. (Asch is a lightweight. He tries not to think about it.) “Hey.” Asch’s brows are furrowed with the effort of stringing together words.”

“D’you, uh.” Asch scowls. “Do you know where the restrooms are -- fuck.” He leans a bit too hard to the side, and the pedestal he’s leaning on topples to the floor. The vase shatters with a merry crash.

“... Fuck,” he repeats.

[roosterlord]

@edealy​

So he’s not in the best of moods tonight; he never is, when crowds and strangers (and crowds full of strangers) are involved, and Asch can really only take so much before he needs to escape. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the spectacle or the people he arrived with, he just -- needs to unwind, is all.

Asch heads toward a door to outside, where he’ll hopefully be able to breathe without a painful over-awareness of the people around him. The anxiety bites at him, makes his posture tighten and expression stormy as he wades through the crowd.

Then something bumps into him without inconsiderable force (or he bumps into them, though Asch cares little for the details), and his temper flares.

“Watch where you’re going,” he snaps coldly.

[roosterlord]

@machinesandroses

Asch’s expectations for the ball aren’t very high; he’s not nearly optimistic enough to think it’ll be a fun event, all things considered, but perhaps it’ll be ... tolerable.

(Hopefully.)

... Then something painfully, irritatingly familiar appears near him, and ‘tolerable’ sails out the window.

“... Dist.” His voice is cold, as is the gaze with which he regards the scientist. The man is as flamboyant as ever, it seems. “What a surprise.” Of all the familiar faces to run into, he is one Asch could have done without.

[roosterlord]

💕

“... What.” That’s ... a surprisingly high number.

[eggnogrph-blog]

Send 💕 and my muse will use The Love Calculator to see how compatible they are.

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[roosterlord]

All right, time for a starter call for the holiday ball! Asch isn’t very happy about being there, but perhaps someone can help improve his evening! (Or, y’know, make it worse. Up to you.) Cap is at five, excepting Abyss cast-mates.

Ball threads will likely take priority for the duration of the event.

[roosterlord]

All right, time for a starter call for the holiday ball! Asch isn’t very happy about being there, but perhaps someone can help improve his evening! (Or, y’know, make it worse. Up to you.) Cap is at five, excepting Abyss cast-mates.

Ball threads will likely take priority for the duration of the event.

[dawningvanguard]

“ So this thing just makes fire. “ Ike was now fiddling with the controls a bit to see this activate and go off a few times, nodding his head curiously as he looked at the device from a few sides of it to see just how it worked.

“ Convenient. I can do a lot with this, actually.. so basically you’re just making stew, then? I can do that. Got a nearby river where you got your water from? “

Oh boy. 

[roosterlord]

He’s kidding, right?

“You’re kidding, right?”

Even if there were a nearby river, he would trust water from there about as much as clothing made of tissue. “We have running water.” He reached over to turn on the sink for a couple of seconds. “You can use that, okay?”

Asch was .... very concerned.

[dawningvanguard]

“ … Alright. It kinda looks like making a stew so I just heat up some water and add everything to it? “ Looking over at the stove where Asch was standing.. he was curious as to how to actually start the fire. 

“ You have a flint and steel around? “ 

[roosterlord]

It took a moment of absentminded nodding and noncommittal grunts of confirmation before he realized --

“Are you crazy?” Asch stared incredulously at Ike. “Do you want to burn down the apartment?” He huffed, pointing at the knobs to control the stove; as a demonstration, he turned one of them on for a few seconds. “Use those.”

A heavy sigh. “Just ... boil water and add the noodles in, all right?” And don’t kill us all, please.

[psychop0mp]

         “I do not think you actually do at all, but that is alright!” Otherwise, she’s fairly certain he wouldn’t be looking at her as if he’s expecting her to sprout another limb. Or better yet, explain herself. As if she’s going to ruin the joke by doing that.

         “Aradia,” she answers simply, brows rising as if the question is one she had been wondering when he would ask. “Who are you?”

[roosterlord]

Is it that obvious?

“... I’m Asch.” He glances around them, surveying the station -- at the still-empty track, and the clock that can’t seem to move fast enough -- as if something will happen and save him from the terrors of attempted conversation. “Where ... are you headed?”

Send me a ( ˘ ³˘)♥ for my muses reaction to your muse randomly kissing them

[garrus-archive-deactivated20191]

Pixiv ID: 51161693

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[roosterlord]

theoreitical​:

It hadn’t been intentional. Rei wasn’t the type to drink (he is a minor, for pete’s sake!), and he never really saw the appeal. But go to the wrong gathering, eat the wrong spicy mystery meat, down the wrong conveniently spiked punch bowl in an energetic fit, and  this is was the result.

He needs a ride home, or an escort, something–there’s no way he can navigate home on his own like this. Taxi services were available, but he’s far too embarrassed to ask. A sober mind would have rationalized his fear as foolish and righted the situation immediately, but he’s never been intoxicated. His stomach lurches, and he desperately starts tapping on his phone in hopes of contacting –Nitori. Yes, Nitori was a safe bet. He squints, finding it hard to focus when he suddenly had four hands.  

t: asch f: ryugazaki rei

1456 apARTmen n1- secor 4  

heLp

PLEASE come get mE

im sorrY

He collapses on a near bench, the cool air outside helpful but not quite enough. At least it was quiet.

There are a great many things in Hive City that Asch is woefully unprepared for. Telekinetic extra-terrestrials are one. Large dogs that seem to enjoy body-slamming him at full force are another.

Drunk-yet-strangely-comprehensible texts? May as well add it to the list.

“... The hell?”

Ryugazaki is the last person he would have expected this from, honestly. Asch has half a mind to toss his phone aside and go back to his mundane convenience-store dinner, but ... the annoying thing termed ‘his conscience’ tugs at him, and Asch sighs. 

A few hasty mouthfuls later, he’s pulling on his coat and shoes, already halfway out the door.

It takes him longer than he’d like to find the indicated apartment, though it doesn’t take long at all to find Rei once he’s there. Asch glances down at the extra jacket in his hands -- you know, just in case -- and gracelessly tosses it onto Rei’s prone form.

“Can you stand?”

[mesomer-blog]

quiet your c●l○ur

[mesomer-blog]

‘Then that means,’–he gets an arm around Asch and wrestles him to the side, then one step forward, two, three–'No more hiding. Starting right now.' 

The grin on his face is three parts smug, seven parts unmistakeable.

(And there’s no time for lingering – not for him, not for Asch. He doesn’t think about his glove against Asch’s bare palm, the heat that radiates from him. He doesn’t let the dizziness overcome him, a part of him that wants to pull back and make sure every part of him is still there. Asch wears shock better than he wears anger, and that’s what he needs to focus on right now.

That’s all Luke lets himself think about.)

‘You never told me how’re you doing,’ he points out, releasing Asch – eventually. They come apart like two normal people should, and Luke flexes his hands, wiggles ten fingers in front of his face and at the other boy. The autumn air is crisp, the leaves beneath their feet crunch with every step, and everything feels just a little more – loud. He is alive. ‘Or why you’re moping in a park. Did you think you’d see Natalia here?’

There is a pile of leaves just to his left, to Asch’s right. Luke turns his head to regard it, and he leans back, rubbing at his arm. The way he shifts his weight is all dive in, but he glances back at Asch, and the consideration in his eyes is push him in.

He rocks back and forth on his feet, a ball of kinetic energy.

(All his force is small talk, in telling Asch to keep going.)

‘It’s usually Guy who walks her dog,’ he adds. ‘He’s good at… pet wrangling.’

[roosterlord]

The familiar gesture is unfamiliar, and Asch only barely squashes the reflex that would have pushed Luke away. He doesn’t respond (doesn’t know how); but Luke has always been better at this kind of thing, so Asch simply lets Luke lead. Maybe he could have kept up, in the past, but now?

Nope. So the best he can come up with is:

“I’m not moping.”

... Which is honestly kind of pathetic, and Asch clumsily attempts to salvage things by adding, “And I didn’t know she had a dog.” (Goddamn.) He lets out a slightly frustrated sigh, deciding to focus the all-too-familiar poke of irritation at the fact that Luke can’t seem to stop moving -- instead of at himself, and the astounding lack of eloquence he’s been graced with.

And he doesn’t miss what Luke glances at, either, or the look in his eyes that doesn’t bode well for Asch. He shifts his weight away from the other boy.

He sighs again. “I was just taking a walk,” he says. “Or is that something I’m not allowed to do?” Asch sounds a little defensive, offended even, but there’s not actually all that much heart in his words.

“And you?” he finally shoots back. “What are you doing here?”

(Asch still hasn’t answered Luke’s questions, and a part of him hopes Luke won’t push it further. He can’t put it all in words; not yet.)

[psychop0mp]

      Dropping the other objects involves little more than another delicate motion of that one finger, and she looks down at him, a brow lifting as if she can’t believe she has to explain herself.           “Well, mostly because you’re waiting for one.” 

      Giggling, she scoots forward and off of her perch, drifting down to eye level with a careful hand on her skirt.            “It’s a pun!”

[roosterlord]

“I ... see.” No, he doesn’t. There’s humor here somewhere, Asch thinks, but he can’t find it -- maybe this girl is just weird.

He watches her with a wary eye as she floats down. The train still hasn’t arrived yet, which means he can either find somewhere else to stand and wait ... or he can stay. (The wisdom of the latter is questionable at best.)

And yet, he doesn’t move. A few moments pass, during which Asch is profoundly discomfited, before he asks, “Who are you?” What are you?