you probably cannot imagine
what your gentleness has left for me
C H A P T E R ♟ 2 2 3 ♛ Route 29 |
AIM ☣ fiertia SKYPE ☣ fiertia |
disyllabic| route_29 ♟ route_006 ♟ route_1065 |
// have you flown?
turn out the lights; wake up in your dreams
for tonight we stand under the same endless skies
Within this small confined birdcage,
in a world where I have lost you as my wings,
before I fall down to earth and perish,
I'll flap as hard as I can, just like the moonlight.
"Those who have been rejected because of their weakness,
who have been oppressed and exiled from entire world,
are just childish lovers who'd merely lick each other's wounds."
I wonder if you'd make fun of them like that.
waidf ♟ cr ♟ voicemail ♟ party ♟ inventory ♟ hmd
in a world where I have lost you as my wings,
before I fall down to earth and perish,
I'll flap as hard as I can, just like the moonlight.
"Those who have been rejected because of their weakness,
who have been oppressed and exiled from entire world,
are just childish lovers who'd merely lick each other's wounds."
I wonder if you'd make fun of them like that.
waidf ♟ cr ♟ voicemail ♟ party ♟ inventory ♟ hmd
03 January 2017 @ 08:22 pm
you probably cannot imagine
what your gentleness has left for me
disyllabic03 January 2017 @ 07:31 pm
03 January 2016 @ 08:32 pm
03 January 2015 @ 08:35 pm
03 January 2015 @ 07:48 pm
Ah, if you're hearing this, it's probably because I couldn't pick up your call for whatever the reasons. Things to do, pokemon to catch. I'm sure you know the drill.
Leave a message, and I'll be sure to get back to you.
[Beep.]
Leave a message, and I'll be sure to get back to you.
[Beep.]
10 December 2011 @ 07:19 pm
[ ... have a sigh, people. ]
... I should've known better than to jinx us yesterday.
Still, though, that's rather creative of them, bringing home to us rather than the other way around.
[ have a weak grin and wave combo, guys. ]
No hard feelings, right?
[ action! ]
[ and in various parts of johto, have a young boy sitting on a bench playing two-hand rendition of rock-paper-scissors (and book-nutcracker-washing machine) with a whimsicott, who, upon close examination, seems to lack fingers entirely. have a smile if you approach him. heck, he'll even teach you the rendition if he likes you enough.
life as usual, he supposes. ]
... I should've known better than to jinx us yesterday.
Still, though, that's rather creative of them, bringing home to us rather than the other way around.
[ have a weak grin and wave combo, guys. ]
No hard feelings, right?
[ action! ]
[ and in various parts of johto, have a young boy sitting on a bench playing two-hand rendition of rock-paper-scissors (and book-nutcracker-washing machine) with a whimsicott, who, upon close examination, seems to lack fingers entirely. have a smile if you approach him. heck, he'll even teach you the rendition if he likes you enough.
life as usual, he supposes. ]
09 December 2011 @ 09:21 pm
[ a hum, drawn. five-tone chime of the pokemon center machine. the feed starts unceremoniously. ]
Mm, say, if you were sent home tomorrow...
What's the first thing you'd do when you go back?
Mm, say, if you were sent home tomorrow...
What's the first thing you'd do when you go back?
09 October 2011 @ 12:25 am
//backdated to 10.07.2011
occurs after this post
[when the video feed flickers on, it appears to be rocking.
there’s a chuckle, here. and without the rocking, one can hear the subtle sounds of running water in the background. slowly, the video feed turns from an invigorating view of the drywall down towards the floor.
spread along the hallway are seventy-six cacti in all of their prickly glory, ribbons connecting them in a distinct pattern. when you connect the pots, they spell thus:
happy birthday
… of course he wouldn’t be conventional about it. there’s another lull as the operator allows for the viewer to enjoy (dubiously) his art, before the video feed turns to his smiling face. Fuji looks amiable. he is wearing a party hat. he puts his finger to his lips conspiratorially. a single word, hush--]
Listen.
[the video feed then turns dubiously to what appears to be the door to the washroom. the gentle sounds of running water intensifies, a mild murmur. however, if you take the time to quiet yourselves down and listen closely, there seems to be a hum intermixed with the sound of running water. melodic and shy, it sounds almost as if…
someone’s singing in the shower?
( can you imagine Fuji’s amused grin ) there’s a few moments of this, before both water and music stop in one fell swoop. the operator then takes the time to point the camera’s angle upwards, towards the upper-half of the door. a few brief moments of shuffling—Fuji’s quiet voice brimming with amusement.]
Ah, any moment now. It's time for the show. Are we all ready?
[with that rhetorical question, the door to the bathroom suddenly swings open.
>> first comes the steam from the shower.
>> next comes Tezuka Kunimitsu, his glasses fogged and misty.
the moment the older boy turns his general field of vision down towards the camera, there’s a loud pop, followed by a shower of streamers. his eyebrow shoots up above the hairline, just as the last bits of confetti settle in his wet hair.
Fuji’s grin is palpable, even behind the screen.]
Happy Birthday, Tezuka.
[and before Tezuka's reaction is properly recorded, the feed ends-- just like that]
occurs after this post
[when the video feed flickers on, it appears to be rocking.
there’s a chuckle, here. and without the rocking, one can hear the subtle sounds of running water in the background. slowly, the video feed turns from an invigorating view of the drywall down towards the floor.
spread along the hallway are seventy-six cacti in all of their prickly glory, ribbons connecting them in a distinct pattern. when you connect the pots, they spell thus:
happy birthday
… of course he wouldn’t be conventional about it. there’s another lull as the operator allows for the viewer to enjoy (dubiously) his art, before the video feed turns to his smiling face. Fuji looks amiable. he is wearing a party hat. he puts his finger to his lips conspiratorially. a single word, hush--]
Listen.
[the video feed then turns dubiously to what appears to be the door to the washroom. the gentle sounds of running water intensifies, a mild murmur. however, if you take the time to quiet yourselves down and listen closely, there seems to be a hum intermixed with the sound of running water. melodic and shy, it sounds almost as if…
someone’s singing in the shower?
( can you imagine Fuji’s amused grin ) there’s a few moments of this, before both water and music stop in one fell swoop. the operator then takes the time to point the camera’s angle upwards, towards the upper-half of the door. a few brief moments of shuffling—Fuji’s quiet voice brimming with amusement.]
Ah, any moment now. It's time for the show. Are we all ready?
[with that rhetorical question, the door to the bathroom suddenly swings open.
>> first comes the steam from the shower.
>> next comes Tezuka Kunimitsu, his glasses fogged and misty.
the moment the older boy turns his general field of vision down towards the camera, there’s a loud pop, followed by a shower of streamers. his eyebrow shoots up above the hairline, just as the last bits of confetti settle in his wet hair.
Fuji’s grin is palpable, even behind the screen.]
Happy Birthday, Tezuka.
[and before Tezuka's reaction is properly recorded, the feed ends-- just like that]
25 September 2011 @ 01:44 am
[when the feed flickers on, the hand moves away from the screen to reveal something like a haphazard mess. the first thing you notice is a colouring book, child-like in quality. it's flipped to a page of the picture of an Ekans swallowing a Rattata whole -- the snake coloured purple painstakingly with a pencil crayon just a little off-screen.
it's not the only pencil crayon there. rather, if you count and compare all the colours, there are veritably enough pencil crayons scattered in the frame alone for two full boxes worth of them. there's the sound of paper crinkling off-screen, before a hand sets down a paper crane on-screen.]
Mm, eighty-one, I guess.
[a chuckle. Fuji picks up the feed. a flash of brown hair here, dizzying camera motions, and suddenly, the feed settles amongst a whole pile of paper cranes, crowding on-screen, haphazard in their placements. even as he does so, his fingers are already picking at the colouring book again.
he tears out the page with the Ekans and the Rattata, nimble fingers working away already at the first folds.]
I think it's fun, what you're liable to make out of paper. [hum] Wasn't origami originally designed for the sake of carrying love letters? Designed so that the receiver would know if someone had intercepted the message from the way the folds were refolded. -- would you like a love letter in a paper crane?
[a thoughtful pause, here.] Isn't it funny that people believe it's bad luck, to unfold a crane? If it's a love letter for you, you'd have to unfold it anyway.
Their luck for you, I suppose.
[and now, he looks down, rueful. a twist of his fingers, and he pulls out the crane's wings, balancing delicately. a smile, a smile, so secretive that if the state of being cryptic was a rope, Fuji would've hung himself on it long ago.]
I think I'll play the piano with my toes.
[it's then the end-tail of an electric-mouse plops on-screen, the chuuuu that follows as unamused as it ever was. Berlin the Raichu plops himself unceremoniously into Fuji's lap, shaking his head a little. the boy blinks once, twice, chuckles, and reaches over to the feed--
cut.]
it's not the only pencil crayon there. rather, if you count and compare all the colours, there are veritably enough pencil crayons scattered in the frame alone for two full boxes worth of them. there's the sound of paper crinkling off-screen, before a hand sets down a paper crane on-screen.]
Mm, eighty-one, I guess.
[a chuckle. Fuji picks up the feed. a flash of brown hair here, dizzying camera motions, and suddenly, the feed settles amongst a whole pile of paper cranes, crowding on-screen, haphazard in their placements. even as he does so, his fingers are already picking at the colouring book again.
he tears out the page with the Ekans and the Rattata, nimble fingers working away already at the first folds.]
I think it's fun, what you're liable to make out of paper. [hum] Wasn't origami originally designed for the sake of carrying love letters? Designed so that the receiver would know if someone had intercepted the message from the way the folds were refolded. -- would you like a love letter in a paper crane?
[a thoughtful pause, here.] Isn't it funny that people believe it's bad luck, to unfold a crane? If it's a love letter for you, you'd have to unfold it anyway.
Their luck for you, I suppose.
[and now, he looks down, rueful. a twist of his fingers, and he pulls out the crane's wings, balancing delicately. a smile, a smile, so secretive that if the state of being cryptic was a rope, Fuji would've hung himself on it long ago.]
I think I'll play the piano with my toes.
[it's then the end-tail of an electric-mouse plops on-screen, the chuuuu that follows as unamused as it ever was. Berlin the Raichu plops himself unceremoniously into Fuji's lap, shaking his head a little. the boy blinks once, twice, chuckles, and reaches over to the feed--
cut.]