actuallyaobaseragaki - Tumblr blog

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

“You don’t sound too concerned with actually catching the person. Could it be that you actually like the attention?” It wasn’t really a question as much as internal musing made external. It was also probably very rude. Aoba really didn’t care too much, it wasn’t his problem either way.

“That’s…true.” Though, he’s wondering now if it’s okay to just out the person like that. Even though he is really curious… “Though, I haven’t noticed a pattern, yet. Just that they’re all the same handwriting, really.”

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

It is a time of chaos, everyone knows that. The thing that they didn’t know, the thing you couldn’t know just by looking at a a person, is who would thrive on that chaos and who would buckle under it. Aoba wasn’t exactly doing well, one could say. Even with his full abilities unlocked, he was hardly the type to try and use them for nefarious purposes. Sly, on the other hand...

Well this was exactly where he was at home. After all, with so much going on you really got a good idea about what kind of person someone was when they were in what they might consider a desperate situation. It was true he might be what others might call... “violent”. The reality of the situation might be something far more sinister, or he might just be an asshole.

For the moment though, he was perfectly content to find a good looking guy, sidle on up to him, and put on some smooth moves. There was a time and place for everything and apparently, like his Hive City counterpart, Sly was in desperate need for some somethin-somethin. Forgive me, fellow writers.

“This shirt’s really becoming on you,” he said to the stranger, reaching out to gently grab the collar with a hand, thereby making sure he was absolutely noticed. “But if I was on top of you I’d probably be coming too.” Yeah. Yeah he did just go there.

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

“You could always have someone else just hiding in wait for the person, if they have a pattern of some kind it shouldn’t be very hard to catch who it is leaving you messages.”

“You could probably set a trap for the person, there’s also getting hand writing samples and fingerprints. It shouldn’t be that hard if you really want to figure out who they are.”

Aoba how do you even know this.

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

“You could probably set a trap for the person, there’s also getting hand writing samples and fingerprints. It shouldn’t be that hard if you really want to figure out who they are.”

Aoba how do you even know this.

“…You know… I still have no idea where those notes I received came from. Does this require an investigation? How would one investigate receiving pick-up lines from an unknown sender anyways? Oh, dear.” 

There’s a pause, and then a tiny sigh.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

Aoba had been picking up some things at the store. Mostly ice cream. Batteries for his now semi-broken cd player. It was far from a good day, but at least he was managing. Thankfully he had a decent enough job to pay for basic amenities.

 Still, he wasn’t expecting such a... peculiar question. There were a lot of different people from different people and places here. This guy was... certainly not like anyone else he met in the city. At least the way he talked was extremely unusual.

“Uh... normally you have to get a job. They give you money in exchange for work,” he realized he sounded like an idiot trying to explain what a job was, and that this guy probably even knew what it was. Aoba hoped, anyway. Looking over at the objects on the register Aoba pulled out his wallet and handed Owain a fiver. “If you um... need a place to find a job I could get you the number for my boss?”

actuallyaobaseragaki

    THE STORES ARE DIFFERENT FROM what he once knew, with their colorful wares and strange signs. Owain finds himself, rather, examining the labels of these unfamiliar objects. Coca-Cola. AA batteries. Mosquito repellent. These all go into the rigid basket he retrieved at the entrance, and are brought to where he assumes he should purchase them. 

    “That’ll be three dollars and fifteen cents.”

    Dollars? Cents? Surely this is a foreign city, but not one of a foreign tongue, yet he finds that he has none of these things. As he examines his pockets, his own allowance of gold has been stripped of him along with the glorious Mystletainn. Curse these warlocks and their trickery. Seeking redemption, he turns to the man idled beside him.

    [ ☛ ] “Excuse me. Do you perhaps know where I may find these dollars and cents? I wish to redeem the Coca-Cola and Mosquito Vanquisher.”

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

Aoba didn’t have a lot in this place, he didn’t have friends he didn’t have a boyfriend anymore, family, his house, his job, anything. The fact that he could find something that even vaguely reminded him of home was ridiculously comforting. He could close his eyes, think of home, and for three to four minutes it might feel as though his world wasn’t collapsing in on itself.

This guy was trying to ruin his last little tie to his world.

“HEY!” he said, loudly in response. He picked up the cd player, as soon as it hit the ground with a clattering ‘thud’. Luckily it wasn’t a top model, the big chunky plastic edges seemingly helped to cushion the blow. “What the hell was that for?!” Aoba barked after he was sure it wasn’t broken. At least, it didn’t look broken. There was no way of knowing until he tried to play it again.

Eyes widen with curiosity at the strange device, the teen moving from his seat to get a closer look. It’s puzzling, really, how it looks both more advanced yet more primitive than the technology he’s used to. Reaching a hand out, he presses a finger on the CD, manually turning it in one full circle.

“It’s like a miniature gramophone….”

Nea plucks the machine from the other’s hands for closer inspection, flipping it this way and that. Every now and then he mutters something strange, like “Where do the holograms project from?” or “It’s not sentient at all, is it?”. He even taps on it a few times as though he’s expecting a reaction. After a minute or so, a thought hits him, his brows furrow and his eyes narrow at the device.

And then he drops it.

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

“Golems...?” Of course Aoba had only heard of the term in video games and the like. He had no idea what a real golem would be like or where you would find one. Did this guy just go down to the local Golems R Us in his nearby town or something? We may never know.

“Uh... I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that while I’ve been here. But... they do have recorders.” He just so happened to have a really lame looking CD player in his coat, a present to himself and the best he could afford on his modest salary. It wasn’t anything special, but it had nice big puffy looking headphones similar to the ones he had back at home. “And you can transfer it either electronically or put it onto discs like this,” he said, popping open the machine to show a silvery disc inside.

“Huh–?”

Honestly, he wasn’t expecting an answer. Especially from some funny lookin’ punk with blue hair. Really, blue? The fashion in this place sure is strange. But to each their own, and such.

“Hm.” Is the only response he gives at first, tilting his head to listen to the foreign music once more. It’s starting to make him miss his piano, back on the Ark. Idly, his fingers tap on the stone beside him. If only Tim were here, then he could record it all for later. But he isn’t, and probably won’t be. Although…

“Do they make golems around here?” He sincerely doubts it, but it’s worth a shot. “Or at least some kind of recording devices?” There’s no way in hell he’s going to lug an entire gramophone around, that’s for sure.

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

He isn’t sure if having a complete stranger try to cheer you up is better or even worse. But at least he doesn’t WANT to be a sad sack the entire time.

“Uh yeah, I guess that’d be fine.”

“Ah? Well, why don’t we change that? I’ll spend your birthday with you. How’s that?”

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

“... being alone on my birthday, definitely not the most pathetic thing that could happen here.”

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

Aoba was pretty much done with this place. He had lost or alienated anyone important to him. He felt completely alone, so even though it was a fairly special day of the year he decided to stop being a sad sack for a few minutes and go get himself something nice. Walking out of the bakery nearest his house he carried a small pink box, signifying some sort of baked good to be inside. He stopped just short of being run into, saving himself the trouble of trying to save his confection from an untimely and flat demise as there was a young guy looking at him as though he had something to say.

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

With so many different people from different places and times it was only obvious that there would be a lot of different cultures all coming together. Which meant music too. 

“Hm?” He wasn’t sure if the question was aimed directly at him, but there wasn’t anyone else in the immediate vicinity to answer. It seemed like some sort of generic instrumental pop music. Nothing exceptional, but it was good for a little bit of background music. “I’d guess that some of it is. There seems like there’s too many people here to just have one type of music though. I’m sure you’ll find it changes depending on who’s playing it.”

“Is all the music around here like this?” He’s been sitting on a the sidewalk in sector 5 for a while now, eyes closed and head tilted to the side as upbeat music played from several of the street vendors. It’s nothing like what he used to listen to, but damn if it isn’t catchy.

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

“What do you mean where did I hear that from? It’s OBVIOUS,” Aoba replied, wrinkling his nose as he did so. He didn’t much care for this guy’s tone. “And I never said swords and guns weren’t dangerous but it’s sort of one of those things where I’m pretty sure if people went around stabbing themselves or other people with a sword the person would ask them to leave too.”

“Also there’s the fact that swords have sheathes, guns have safeties, and you blowing smoke right in my face is going to give me lung cancer so I’m gonna ask you to continue outside.”

Though he turned to face the guy as he began to speak, Dylan’s position still retained its rude spot. If there was anything more ridiculous than what he had been complaining about, it had to be what this punk with the outlandish haircut just told him. Kills people? Since when? Everyone, even doctors, smoked back home!

  ❝Huh?❞ He mirrored the stranger’s look, though perhaps in a more dramatic fashion.

    ❝Where’d you hear that from? And if that’s even true, I’ve seen people walking around these places with swords n’ shit– how’d you explain that? They can’t be any less dangerous!❞

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

Aoba actually really liked the cultural sector. It was the one place that had donuts. They weren’t exactly like Tae’s back home, but it helped to alleviate some of his homesickness.

“It certainly is... something.” He said, mostly because he wasn’t in the mood to start an argument with someone who was so thrilled with a takoyaki cart. Out of all the things this place had to offer... that’s what he was amazed by?

actuallyaobaseragaki

     It was a real shame Eiji hadn’t explored more of Sector Four in all of its multi-cultural glory. With so many shops and stands from worlds, countries and all around, he never really felt like he could get tired of such a place. The good smells, sights and overall atmosphere was really comforting. Deciding to sit at what looked like a takoyaki stand would he find himself ordering a small set, glancing over at someone who had been sitting there next to him. 

“ This Sector really is something amazing, isn’t it? “

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

Aoba wasn’t entirely sure he had walked into. It wouldn’t be the first time. He heard people and gravitated towards there. Of course, this guy didn’t make him feel as though it was the right decision.

“Well it’s not very safe if people can walk right in, is it?” was of course hte first thing out of his mouth. Aoba was at his core a sarcastic shithead, especially when dealing with clearly bad people. And he wasn’t actually too sure what was exactly going on here but it was certainly not good.

“But luckily for both of us, it seems as though I’ve only seen you. So I’m just going to be going then.” He says, backing up slowly.

actuallyaobaseragaki

Now who was this blue haired intrepid explorer? Didn’t they know that it wasn’t a good idea to wander into any abandoned warehouse they pleased, stumbling into undold quantities of illegal goods and weapons, maybe even a few individuals in the middle of ‘interrogation’ Tsk tsk, so rude to have uninvited guests in one’s private spy safe house.  “And just what are you doing here young man?” November drew his hands from behind his back. “For your sake, I hope you haven’t seen too much.”

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

———- wait, can you reblog if you don’t mind random starters appearing in your tag whether it’s fluffy, angsty, etc. and if you actually reply to them when they do? just wanna see how many people do tbh.

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

Aoba knew he looked pathetic. It was apparently worse than he had originally intended however, to illicit the pity of a complete stranger. There were apparently people who might try to take advantage of his current situation. It wasn’t as though the blue haired young man didn’t have to protect himself every now and again. His home wasn’t exactly sweet and pleasant. There were gangs, and with that came a sense of impending violence most places you were.

“I’m not CRYING,” he said, childish and obstinate. “But fine, I get it. I’m ruining the dark dank ambiance of this shithole by having actual problems.” He stood, too quickly, and his legs gave a noodle-like wobble as he righted himself.

“Maybe... help wouldn’t be terrible,” he muttered after he regained his bearings. He didn’t drink, pretty much ever. And it was showing now. Two or three thugs typically wouldn’t exactly worry Aoba, if he couldn’t fight them all he was decent enough at running. But right now he wasn’t even sure he would be able to find his way back to his apartment, never mind running there.

「 sounding board. 」| closed.

           He suddenly felt rude, as if he had just imposed on someone’s private moment. Staggered for a few seconds, Yuri muddled through his mind on what to say next.

           “No, you’re good.” Well, no, actually. He wasn’t good. At all. “If I were you though, I’d be more worried about the kinds of people that sit next to you. Since…” He looked over his shoulder then, picking out a throng of thugs who were already showing the subtle quirks of impending violence: the leering gazes, upturned brows, the sudden slamming of glasses and random bursts of yelling…

          Yuri turned back to look at his lightweight neighbor. Yeah, he certainly didn’t look like he could hold up in a fight with any of them. At least not in that state."Crying drunks don’t really do well in bars like these. I’d pack it up if I were you.” He paused then, giving one last look at their rather hostile setting. Come to think of it, he wasn’t looking to add another tally to his list of unwanted bar fights. Perhaps it was best if he left the scene too, before it got hairy. “I’ve got nowhere to be, so. Guess I could help you get back to where you need to be. Since something’s really biting at ya.”

[actuallyaobaseragaki]

Aoba watched the other man complaining about smoking inside of a restaurant. Honestly, all he wanted to do was pick up his to-go order. But if there was anything living in this city taught him so far, it was that there was always going to be someone who was unhappy. It came with the divergence of so many times and cultures being forced to mingle forcefully. Normally he was the one that was unhappy, but today it seemed that was left up to this guy.

“I’m pretty sure a lot of places don’t like their customers smoking since they determined it... you know, kills people. If you need your nicotine that badly you can always eat outside, or get some of those patches.”

actuallyaobaseragaki

Does he have a lighter? No. But would he stand for this? No. This is the fifth place he’s seen with a no-smoking label on the door. What happened to the simple ‘No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service’ policy?  Besides the smell, there’s nothing wrong with a little smoke… or so his limited early twentieth  century knowledge tells him.

  ❝What the fuck kind of rule is that? A man can’t smoke inside a restaurant anymore?❞