#burningcards

[toshio-fukawa]

"How can you even w-walk with hair like that?"

[paradoxparagon-blog]

relentlesslyhopeful started following you

 burningcards started following you

desperoaegrotus started following you

 m-oowada started following you

It's been a while since anyone even came over at all... Oh?

   Mm, Hold on. I think I know you all. Respectively, that'd be...

Naegi-kun, Celes-san, Hinata-kun and Oowada-kun. I think.

[atzoatlarchive]

Go long, Ishimaru-san.

[quillsandscissors]

Hnnnn.......

I still haven't g-gotten back my dog.

[quillsandscissors]

C-celes-san......

[atzoatlarchive]

He doesn’t often use his phone.  It sits in his pocket like a weighty reminder that he cannot truly sink into his ideas and passions and hopes like a drowning man into the depthless sea; inevitably, there will always be the bone-scorching sun and annoying seabirds and persistent call and force of the wind, no peace to be found until he is dead and beneath the waves.

He calls people even less than he texts which is even less than he prefers to write letters by hand, elegant characters illustrated on vibrant parchment and sealed with patient fingers and a steady eye.  There is something so frivolous about tapping fingers against a smooth plastic screen and having it instantaneously delivered with no satisfaction to reward your work—his calloused thumbs press flat against an intangible field of fake pixels displaying impersonal and sterile uniform characters picked in his preferred order.  He taps her name in as he taps his foot to the rhythm of the fan humming in the ceiling above him—C-E-L-E-S-T-I-A—each stroke of his finger precisely tapping the correct flat fake box until the name is matched with the numbers and he has her added in his personal phonebook—stark and sparse, like everything else he owns, a minimalistic list of names for professional pursuits rather than Saturday night chit-chat.

It was simple to obtain a number—surprisingly so.  An address, a picture, a signature, it almost makes him feel disgusted to fathom how effortless it would be to take her identity as his own.  Regardless, the dignity he holds in his heart and his virtuous sense of uplifting morals allows his brain to understand the idea without even degrading himself as far as considering such a concept; he practically shivers in disgust thinking of what lowlife plebian could get their filthy, unworthy hands on his identity and toy with it as they pleased. 

The modern world is truly terrifying, he thinks.

He calls her without any further contemplation, the cool plastic pressed against his ear as the dial tone furiously sounds off like an alarmed, buzzing bee.

[atzoatlarchive]

burningcards replied to your post: Now his icon matches his personality. 

Are you five? Did I forget to drop you off at preschool this morning?

Yes.

[atzoatlarchive]

burningcards replied to your post: superhallmonitorishimaru replied to your post: ...

Capitalize the K in my first name or I’ll ruin you.

No.