banjoanjo Member
Still likes pistachios
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The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.
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5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ | ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ W a y D o w n W e G o , P a r t I location: Zhou Residence → P. Johnson's interacting with: Zhou Xiaoli → Jack Wilkerson ◂◂ II ▸▸ People Watching — Jack Johnson§ |
P.J's was a bold choice, considering the establishment's whole identity/theme. Considering Jack and her weird insistence on hiding the specifics of her romantic life. Considering the absolute blockheads they attended high school with, and all their baseless jeers and dumb jokes. Maybe the other girl never knew what homophobic idiots they were, what with her constant skipping. Hard to measure the dickbaggery of your classmates if you never even show up.
Sara peered through the window, sneaking a peek. Sebastian at the bar, Jack too, some Adonis-looking guy she couldn't get a good view of. From the football team, perhaps? Not a stellar attendance so far. Didn't know if it was because it was still early but there was a decent lack of familiar faces in the bar for the moment. No assholes for sure. Sara breathed a relieved sigh.
Hm. Maybe Jack did know, and organizing the get-together at P.J's was some lesbian - no, pardon, 100% straight girl - power move. Props to her.
Honestly, even without the less desirable people from her high school years, this was going to be a chore. Sara only had one target. Everyone else there would just delay her from getting to it. As harsh as it was, Sara had no interest in the others. They'd just go back to their lives after the demolition and she'd still be here, in Delton. There was no use for these connections.
Since there was no way to remain outside the bar without looking like some kid whose friends ditched her at the mall, she headed in. Sara didn't make any move to sit, instead just placing her hands on the capsule to examine it.
"So, how many people we waiting on before we can pop this thing open?"
SOU MIYANE - Central District: Takamagahara
Miyane woke to static.
A sort of numbness radiated from her chest, kept her mouth pressed tight. Her hands clenched the sheets. She didn't bother keeping her eyes open when all there was to look at was the ceiling.
She didn't want to wake today either.
There were unread messages from Hyejin. Nothing from Daehyun or Miori, Miyane didn't have to check her phone to know. In the corner of her bedroom floor her pants from last night were wrinkled, still crusted red. She wasn't even going to bother trying to salvage those. As soon as she got up, straight into the bin for them. Who knows how many hours that would be?
Outside, she could vaguely hear a commotion but two and two did not come together in her sleep-addled mind.
With a annoyed "tsk" she rolled right back over into the cooler side of the bed.
Miyane woke to static.
A sort of numbness radiated from her chest, kept her mouth pressed tight. Her hands clenched the sheets. She didn't bother keeping her eyes open when all there was to look at was the ceiling.
She didn't want to wake today either.
There were unread messages from Hyejin. Nothing from Daehyun or Miori, Miyane didn't have to check her phone to know. In the corner of her bedroom floor her pants from last night were wrinkled, still crusted red. She wasn't even going to bother trying to salvage those. As soon as she got up, straight into the bin for them. Who knows how many hours that would be?
Outside, she could vaguely hear a commotion but two and two did not come together in her sleep-addled mind.
With a annoyed "tsk" she rolled right back over into the cooler side of the bed.
I have discord
SOU MIYANE - Southern District: The Don
---
SOU MIYANE - Central District: Tenoroshi General Hospital
Collab with @ERode
---
SOU MIYANE - Central District: Tenoroshi General Hospital
Collab with @ERode
SOU MIYANE - Southern District: Galaxy
Warm. But it felt hot. Miyane didn’t want the lights back on. She didn’t want to see in color, understand the wet thickness coating her hands.
There were vague movements around her. Noises. Thudding, crying. Footsteps? Screams. Objects and humans, muddled like cloudy water. Miyane was sinking. Getting hard to hear. Was she breathing?
(Don’t stop listening. Don’t stop.)
(Press. PRESS.)
Where was Daehyun? Daehyun, was he here? No. No one else. Not that blond boy, not her friend, nor that stage worker.
Just her and the shuddering boy beneath. Both hardly breathing. Warmth on her palms. Her eyes were transfixed on his, wide and afraid.
“Head,” she said. She didn’t know how loud it was, who was listening. “Head’s bleeding too.”
Was she breathing? Was he?
“Can you hear me?” Her eyes never left.
“Are you listening?”
“You won’t die.”
“We’re okay.”
“You liked InComplete, right?”
Words tossed blindly, uncaring of the response. Ah, her sleeves were getting soaked too.
“I hated it. So fucking cheesy.”
She tried to breathe.
“<<...It’s not the me you knew before, brand new sound.>>”
Warm. But it felt hot. Miyane didn’t want the lights back on. She didn’t want to see in color, understand the wet thickness coating her hands.
There were vague movements around her. Noises. Thudding, crying. Footsteps? Screams. Objects and humans, muddled like cloudy water. Miyane was sinking. Getting hard to hear. Was she breathing?
(Don’t stop listening. Don’t stop.)
(Press. PRESS.)
Where was Daehyun? Daehyun, was he here? No. No one else. Not that blond boy, not her friend, nor that stage worker.
Just her and the shuddering boy beneath. Both hardly breathing. Warmth on her palms. Her eyes were transfixed on his, wide and afraid.
“Head,” she said. She didn’t know how loud it was, who was listening. “Head’s bleeding too.”
Was she breathing? Was he?
“Can you hear me?” Her eyes never left.
“Are you listening?”
“You won’t die.”
“We’re okay.”
“You liked InComplete, right?”
Words tossed blindly, uncaring of the response. Ah, her sleeves were getting soaked too.
“I hated it. So fucking cheesy.”
She tried to breathe.
“<<...It’s not the me you knew before, brand new sound.>>”
SOU MIYANE - Southern District: Galaxy
Even if the concert had been a cacophony of same-rhythmed rabble, it was difficult to forget the boy before her. Dissonant piercings, striking hair. The type of look she and Daehyun fawned over in their youth, when that punk-emo stuff was all the rage.
No wonder he liked the kid.
A wince cut through the façade when Yuudai used the stage name, noticeable for a more excruciating second when he mentioned the ‘earlier works’. She covered with a quick bow of her own.
“Oh, thank you. They’re…”
---
Yujin rapped on the doorframe, raising an eyebrow at the scene inside.
“<<What’s with her?>>”
Sooyoung stopped prodding the sullen mass under the blanket. Miyane could hear her trying to suppress her grin.
“<<They just made her listen to the next title track.>>”
“<<I’m MOURNING,>>” Miyane shrieked from her fortress of solitude, the other two girls soon choking from laughter.
---
“They’re certainly classics,” she chuckled gracefully.
Her smile was far too stiff.
Even if the concert had been a cacophony of same-rhythmed rabble, it was difficult to forget the boy before her. Dissonant piercings, striking hair. The type of look she and Daehyun fawned over in their youth, when that punk-emo stuff was all the rage.
No wonder he liked the kid.
A wince cut through the façade when Yuudai used the stage name, noticeable for a more excruciating second when he mentioned the ‘earlier works’. She covered with a quick bow of her own.
“Oh, thank you. They’re…”
---
Yujin rapped on the doorframe, raising an eyebrow at the scene inside.
“<<What’s with her?>>”
Sooyoung stopped prodding the sullen mass under the blanket. Miyane could hear her trying to suppress her grin.
“<<They just made her listen to the next title track.>>”
“<<I’m MOURNING,>>” Miyane shrieked from her fortress of solitude, the other two girls soon choking from laughter.
---
“They’re certainly classics,” she chuckled gracefully.
Her smile was far too stiff.
SOU MIYANE - Southern District: Galaxy
“<<Quite a crowd,>>” she observed.
Daehyun whistled. “<<Was that a compliment?>>”
Miyane rolled her eyes.
“<<Gotta cut that vacation short, Miya-ssi, you’re getting too mellow.>>”
The light in the backstage area was dim, colors only occasionally filtering across her features, constantly morphed by stage hands, technicians rushing back and forth in the last minutes before the showtime. Even so, the glare she shot the actor-dancer was unimpeded in its intensity. Daehyun raised his hands in surrender.
“<<They’ve been getting big,>>” he explained, “<<The numbers are about expected. Just enjoy the tunes, yeah? Drum solo’s killer.>>”
He wasn’t wrong. For a bunch of fresh indie-label signees, they were… competent. Audience and staff alike were entranced. Even from the angle she was looking, the excitement in the mosh pit was clear as day. Miyane wished she could share in that feeling. Years of training, devotion to perfection, spoke otherwise.
While everyone revelled in the passion of the performance, her gaze zeroed in with distaste. The way the frontman swayed. The way he jumped when the drums went into overdrive. Stiff, tacky. The way his ‘ah’s didn’t round out when the pitch was too high. Sloppy. The nitpicking went on, shame stockpiling in the back of her mind as the songs went on. She just couldn’t watch a performance like a normal person. Was this because she was a professional? Or because someone else was on the stage?
Then the applause came. It was the hardest part to get through.
Miyane wasn’t sentimental. Miyane was rational. She knew there couldn’t be more than three or five hundred in the live house, a quantity didn’t even begin to compare to an arena - hell, most of the stages she dominated back in the international scene.
Her heartbeat was thunderous, nevertheless.
The booming, small in number but gargantuan in enthusiasm, echoed through the live house, reverberating in every corner. Inescapable. Her eyes were wide open, not from the ecstasy in the air but the fear of the image that would consume her if they closed. A memory once fond, now just a reminder of the emptiness that replaced it.
A night in 2014, Tokyo Dome. Deafening and blinding and exhilarating, seconds after the night’s final song. Miyane’s breath was course, mind never so awake. Hands sticky, but devotedly clamped to her anchors that kept her from getting swept away by the adoration of thousands of strangers. If she turned to the left she’d see grateful tears trickling past Chaewon’s nose. This applause belonged to them. Miyane thought that happiness would drown the eight of them that night. But that was okay. As long as their hands were still in hers, she was unstoppable.
Then someone squeezed her shoulder.
Miyane blinked, vaguely recognizing Daehyun’s knowing smirk before he stepped past to congratulate the band members coming off. The show was over.
With Daehyun’s back towards her, amongst a sea of stage hands – nobodies – Miyane stood alone, barely noticed.
“<<Quite a crowd,>>” she observed.
Daehyun whistled. “<<Was that a compliment?>>”
Miyane rolled her eyes.
“<<Gotta cut that vacation short, Miya-ssi, you’re getting too mellow.>>”
The light in the backstage area was dim, colors only occasionally filtering across her features, constantly morphed by stage hands, technicians rushing back and forth in the last minutes before the showtime. Even so, the glare she shot the actor-dancer was unimpeded in its intensity. Daehyun raised his hands in surrender.
“<<They’ve been getting big,>>” he explained, “<<The numbers are about expected. Just enjoy the tunes, yeah? Drum solo’s killer.>>”
He wasn’t wrong. For a bunch of fresh indie-label signees, they were… competent. Audience and staff alike were entranced. Even from the angle she was looking, the excitement in the mosh pit was clear as day. Miyane wished she could share in that feeling. Years of training, devotion to perfection, spoke otherwise.
While everyone revelled in the passion of the performance, her gaze zeroed in with distaste. The way the frontman swayed. The way he jumped when the drums went into overdrive. Stiff, tacky. The way his ‘ah’s didn’t round out when the pitch was too high. Sloppy. The nitpicking went on, shame stockpiling in the back of her mind as the songs went on. She just couldn’t watch a performance like a normal person. Was this because she was a professional? Or because someone else was on the stage?
Then the applause came. It was the hardest part to get through.
Miyane wasn’t sentimental. Miyane was rational. She knew there couldn’t be more than three or five hundred in the live house, a quantity didn’t even begin to compare to an arena - hell, most of the stages she dominated back in the international scene.
Her heartbeat was thunderous, nevertheless.
The booming, small in number but gargantuan in enthusiasm, echoed through the live house, reverberating in every corner. Inescapable. Her eyes were wide open, not from the ecstasy in the air but the fear of the image that would consume her if they closed. A memory once fond, now just a reminder of the emptiness that replaced it.
A night in 2014, Tokyo Dome. Deafening and blinding and exhilarating, seconds after the night’s final song. Miyane’s breath was course, mind never so awake. Hands sticky, but devotedly clamped to her anchors that kept her from getting swept away by the adoration of thousands of strangers. If she turned to the left she’d see grateful tears trickling past Chaewon’s nose. This applause belonged to them. Miyane thought that happiness would drown the eight of them that night. But that was okay. As long as their hands were still in hers, she was unstoppable.
Then someone squeezed her shoulder.
Miyane blinked, vaguely recognizing Daehyun’s knowing smirk before he stepped past to congratulate the band members coming off. The show was over.
With Daehyun’s back towards her, amongst a sea of stage hands – nobodies – Miyane stood alone, barely noticed.
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