#tunafishforever

[neuroticsynth]

@tunafishforever

        “Would you care to join me on one of these things called dates?”                    he is subtly murmuring when proposing the question.                                                           “I hear people in relationships partake in these often,”

[ncsulcid-blog]

@tunafishforever consulted the samurai.

---” luka-san! your performance was SPECTACULAR! “

gakupo always made attending his fellow loids’ concerts and performances a priority, and luka was no exception. he looked town rather enthusiastically at his friend, so unlike his typical tranquil and stoic demeanor. it felt so hard to speak over the crowd’s voice of cheers and applause.

[piercingbluemoon]

    Beaming, Blue waves to everyone. Standing on an acrylic stage centered in the pool, strings of lights hanging above, he’s never experienced a private beach party like this hosted at the most particular house he’s ever seen. The crowd cheers, waving their arms about. Bass in hand, he glances at his bandmate, and plays on her cue.

    Two hours, with breaks in between, swing like minutes. The duo perform one last song before calling it a night to enjoy themselves with everyone else. Reign of applauds die down to chatter. Black Star sashays off the stage on its thin bridge, the young man treads behind. One mistake and he’ll be in the pool.

    Plenty of fans meet up with them for pics, and the two separate. There aren’t as many people seeking him as they are for his best friend. How she can talk with this many people never ceases to amaze him. Not being the kind of guy big on parties, the purpose of this is for an experience and receiving donations for charities.

    Desiring some silence, Blue disappears into the building. No one possibly lives in this home with the lack of privacy. As a place to rent for gatherings and parties, it’s pretty smart. No crimes-no nasty secrets-to hide.

    Lingering around the snack table, extravagant meals are displayed. There’s a lot of variety, and barely getting touched! Looking around with curious eyes, Blue gingerly places sandwiches along other things on a paper plate like a kid sneakily grabbing sweets. Everything goes down the hatch with a can of lemonade. Ah, much better! But no one saw that, right? It’s completely slipped, like always, he scarfs down food like a wolf! Wandering to another room, he sees a couple of people sitting together on a couch. Hand in pocket, he walks to the back of the room like a wallflower. Unknowingly in a young lady’s personal space, he moves a step away.

    “Has your evening been going well?” He asks Luka.

[kiiroouji]

|| tunafishforever has been spotted!

♫|| “Luka-nee! T-This isn’t what it looks, sounds like, I know Miku-nee’s songs are pretty girly, but, y’know, World is Mine isn’t such a bad tune--” 

[neuroticsynth]

         Len never imagined being a doctor, but as of now he’d call himself a fully certified surgeon. ( not a human surgeon, anyway. ) He had to drag her lifeless body back into his room and place her on the floor against his desk just so he could connect her to his computer. A small USB cord was all it took, connecting one end with Luka’s port and the other into his desktop. Her lights would resonate, flickering faintly as if hinting that the ghosts of life were still fighting to stay alive inside the depths of her core processors.          Luka was still in there, he was certain.          Buffering a raw command prompt pulled twelve black screens across all three of his monitors. The synth took extra care to pin point which window was the proper entryway for data mining the information he desired from her.                      Memories were still in tact, but he dared not to look inside them. Those were private-- reserved only for Luka. Her emotions were still in tact-- no need to tinker around there. Her mentality was still solid, however some of the numbers he saw may have been arguably alarming. He continued his search, regardless. No need to play around with them, either.                                       It seemed she only had one folder missing from her root directory--                                       System32 ?? Nowhere to be found.  Len took a gander; if he was built out of the same programming schematics as herself then copying his own folder into hers would suffice. He would plug himself into his desktop at another port and open up his own raw binary files.                A simple copy and paste, should do-- then he’d restart Luka and hope that her driver would follow standard reboot procedures again.

               @tunafishforever                          “Luka?” he called out gently,                           leaning forward to check underneath her bubble gum bangs.                                                                                             “Can you hear me?”

[neuroticsynth]

@tunafishforever liked me for a starter ! 

       “I found this in your memory directory...”                    he slides to her a photograph of a popular pop idol in teal twin tails                     dancing around with just green and white striped underpants on.                    “You wanna...provide some context?”

[piercingbluemoon]

@tunafishforever​

    Black Star and Blue Moon, solely Blue, finish their demo with his performance of jazz on the piano and a one-man band playing dubstep. Different instruments are simultaneously played on an electric guitar with controllable gadgets modded onto the instrument. The infamous wobble’s “magically” produced through a bluetooth ring on his thumb manipulating the strings.

    From the start the duo covered songs in different styles. Pop as Visual Kei and rock, classic as alternative, metal as jazz, and so on. As to be expected, Black Star dominated the stage. She’s the lead performer after all.

    Different groups of people were there to judge. From popstars to metal musicians to elderlies. Old people who’d never heard of BB! Blue could hear one complain how cold the room is. It’s all concrete walls and concrete floor. The only readily available room to set up all of their equipment; stereos, computers, one piano, electric guitars, and drum kit. Besides, the room’s got a nice reverb.

    There’s comments of ‘there’s too much equipment’, ‘it’s not real music if it’s done electronically’, etc. There are good comments, too, but Blue can’t help himself overhearing negative feedback, even if it’s minor and outweighed by positivity.

    Black Star calls to him to pack everything up, so he does. The roadies will help load equipment back into their truck.

    He thinks to himself it’s not fake music. A lot of it’s prerecorded when there’s only two of them. If they don’t have the instrument, it’s done electronically. The reason for this was to demonstrate how versatile music is.

    Finishing tidying up, Blue wraps up the cables. Incidentally binding an ankle, he stumbles and embraces his signature J Bass. He curses to himself. Anything but the bass! Anything but the bass!!

    Twing.

    Catching his fall, Blue lands on his side. The left hand stings a bunch…The bass!

    Hopping onto his feet, he examines his beloved instrument. All is well except for a snapped string. Checking his palm, a diagonal line over fingers dyes itself red. It’s as bad as a papercut!! Why do those hurt so much? But a broken string overpowers pain. If the bass broke, it may well be not worth living. A bassless world is a cruel world.

    Feeling a presence nearby, the blond slowly turns to face a girl with pink locks. Another silent curse to himself. Did, did he trip near her?

      “My show. How was the bad?” Erm. “How was the show? My bad?” Close enough.