Oh Well. At Least I Came Out Of This Finding My Old Akira Blog. Not All Is Lost

oh well. at least i came out of this finding my old akira blog. not all is lost

[Thankfully, Mr. Bell didn't ask anything more of him; he'd rather not dredge up trauma or fumble a totally fabricated backstory. He needed time for...both of those, really.] ❝ Thank you, sir. ❞

[Nanashi may have misinterpreted his teacher's complaints, but a suppressant really sounded like a good solution for any sleeping problems ( assuming it was his abilities that were bugging him ). Maybe not, then. At least Mr. Bell was taking it in stride!]

❝ Heh, okay -- I hope they figure out a way to teach that, then. I wonder if there's a super with, like...sleeping powers. ❞ [For therapeutic purposes, of course. Having nocturnal abilities sounded more like a villain thing, though...putting people to sleep would be too much of an advantage.]

[His teacher's reassurance meant the world to him; they were his number one priority and concern in all of this ( and the opposite was probably true for them ). He wanted a guarantee that, no matter what he did, they wouldn't be put in any danger whatsoever -- he'd never forgive himself if his actions jeopardized them. Mr. Bell made it clear that they would be alright; that was enough.]

[Nanashi couldn't help a laugh at Mr. Bell's question -- if Nanashi had cared about his family's rules, he wouldn't be skipping class or taking on gangs. Accepting rides from strangers was a no-no he'd been taught since he was a little kid, but Mr. Bell wasn't a stranger. Nanashi trusted him -- his dad did, too. There wasn't a real rule-break here.]

❝ Nah, don't sweat it. You're on the good list -- I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind you giving me a ride. ❞ [He probably wouldn't accept Nanashi being whisked off to Afton Robotics without permission, but...he didn't have to know.]

[Nanashi dutifully followed after his teacher, trying to suppress his returning anxiety. It was hitting him again -- this was it, a make-or-break that could set him up for life. God, he hoped Mr. Bell hadn't been exaggerating about how hard it'd be to disappoint them.]

[Mr. Bell's car was surprisingly unremarkable, but it was an older model that he could appreciate -- his dad had sparked Nanashi's interest in cars, especially "ancient" makes from the fifties. This might not be a fifties car, but it was a model that interested him nonetheless, no matter how plain. As an added bonus, Mr. Bell's personality really shone through in the mementos he'd decorated the interior of his car with. There was even a makeshift fox plush on his dashboard! It seemed impressively complicated. Cool.]

[Their conversation didn't die down once throughout the drive -- unproductive in terms of thinking up a backstory, but extremely productive in easing Nanashi's nerves. It was tough for his anxiety to creep up when he was so busy distracting himself with idle chatter. He was really grateful for it.]

[As they pulled up, Nanashi was taken aback by the opulent entrance; the architecture screamed "fancy" and "modern." Nanashi had seen it in pictures, but those were nothing compared to reality. It was gorgeous and sleek, all while avoiding the oppressive atmosphere of similar buildings. He was immediately struck by the feeling that he did not belong here -- he'd grown up in middle class poverty all his life. This was a far cry from his home.]

[Steven pulled Nanashi away from the metal detectors and into a luxurious lobby. The sheer elegance of this place was intimidating. Couches, chairs, and vending machine might not seem like much, but Nanashi was used to depressing folding chairs and tables. It almost reminded him of those fancy vibrating chairs in the middle of the mall that he'd always insisted on sitting on -- the only difference here was that the luxury was all-encompassing.]

[He'd been so distracted admiring the place that he almost forgot that the point of a waiting room was to sit. He felt like a total outsider as he cozied up on one of the chairs. He'd never get used to this.]

❝ ...Not really. ❞ [He admitted; it wasn't that he didn't want this as a home, he just felt...undeserving. That had been today's overarching theme.] ❝ This is a lot. I can't see myself ever getting used to this. ❞

[Nanashi nearly jumped out of his chair when Dagda spoke up again; since Dagda's voice was imperceptible to anyone other than Nanashi, it wasn't like Mr. Bell would hear, but it still startled him.]

❝ You'd better start, kid. This is what you wanted, isn't it? ❞ [His voice sounded smug, but what struck Nanashi was the demon's sudden support. He'd encouraged all of this. He even acknowledged that it was more Nanashi's dream than his own, but he was still willing to let Nanashi pursue it. Yeah...Dagda wasn't so bad.]

[Nanashi quietly smiled, giving a subtle nod. He didn't want to freak Mr. Bell out now, just when he was about to formally introduce himself to the company.]

"Don't sweat it. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I know this stuff can be difficult to talk about."

He is disappointed, but again-- his job is practically completed. He'll leave it to his teammates to wheedle out the extra details.

Steven has to stifle another laugh at the kid's blunt assessment. Nanashi's not wrong.

"Yeah! Wait, uh-- no, that's not-- I don't want a suppressant. That's not what I meant." He would gladly trade a few headaches here and there for all the good his powers offer.

"It's really not so bad, I'm totally used to it by now. I mean, people take medication for all sorts of things. The only thing they could do for me now is teach me to have self-control in my sleep. Heh."

Steven flashes a thumbs-up, turning to tidy his belongings into his shoulder bag. He's been careful not to personalize the classroom too much, so it's easy to pack up everything for a hasty get away. Tomorrow, someone will come in and kindly explain that Steven's had a family emergency, and that they'll be bringing in a very qualified replacement to finish up the semester. Bell half-wishes he had waited to approach Nanashi, but he's far too professional to delay an acquisitions assignment just to finish teaching his class. Who knows? Maybe he and Nanashi will get the chance to chat about this stuff if they ever cross paths in the office. That'd be nice-- Steven really does find Nanashi's interest in the coursework refreshing.

"Of course. Don't worry, they'll be just fine!" he says, and believes it. His own parents are living very well, far, far away, with the sort of stipend necessary to support a lifestyle they could never have dreamed of when Steven was young. The difference between him and Nanashi is that Steven doesn't have to lie about where the money comes from-- his parents are the ones who signed him up for the program in the first place. In Nanashi's case, if he wants to support his family financially while also keeping them in the dark, he might have to get creative about suddenly becoming a very wealthy teenager. Even standard AR internships don't pay that much.

"Are they okay with you, um, taking rides from teachers? Not that you'll be telling them about any of this, but... still. I don't know. I don't want to make you break your family rules."

Bell's already beginning to walk out of the classroom, however, and Nanashi has already indicated he's willing to head out now; unless the kid expected AR to send some fancy transport to pick him up, he probably knew he'd be hitching a ride over.

Steven's car certainly doesn't look like the vehicle of someone with ties to one of the biggest companies in the country. It's old, unremarkable, and almost exceptionally plain-- at least on the outside. Inside, there's finally a hint of personality, little trinkets here and there (including what appears to be a hand-made Foxy plush sitting on his dashboard) and a backseat littered with the spoils of Steven's last antiquing trip.

Steve is (unsurprisingly) chatty on the half-hour drive out to the local Afton Robotics office complex. He does his best to keep conversation light and give Nanashi time to collect his thoughts before he overwhelms the poor kid again by actually showing him around his workspace.

Afton Robotics is exceptional, after all.

Any pretense of unassuming normalcy is abandoned at the entryway; clean, bright, modern architecture sprawls before the pair, classy but without the cold, clinical air one might see from similar companies like Oscorp. There's a security checkpoint that Steven circumvents with a flash of his badge, leading Nanashi away from what appear to be metal detectors directly towards a more comfortable waiting area decked out with couches, chairs, vending machines, and displays describing the many advancements made "in these very halls"!

Steven flops into one of the chairs, shooting off another quick text to let the others know they've arrived. It won't be long now until he and Nanashi part ways.

Again, he feels a twinge of regret-- he'll miss the kid.

"So... yeah. This is it. What do you think, Nanashi? Ready to call this place home?"

i was trying to say “c’est la vie” but i forgot the phrase and so long story short i shrugged and said “livin la vida loca” 

me when i typo "lemons into lemonade" as "demons into demonade"

probably done already

[Nanashi bust a gut over Dave's joke -- moreso because of the exaggeration of his revulsion, but still. In fairness, hungry as he was, there was no way he was touching a Fazbender pizza. Dave had given him the scoop on where the ingredients came from; Nanashi would never look at a pizza the same way ever again.]

[There was an overjoyed twinkle in his eye when Dave patted his shoulder; hopefully, any hesitation on Dave's end vanished when Nanashi uncontrollably beamed. It was slowly but surely becoming obvious how much Nanashi idolized this guy, though ( as he'd said ) he was probably a terrible role model. Dave led a life that Nanashi aspired to, though -- he couldn't help looking up to him.]

❝ Heh, you're right -- eating possibly-lethal garbage really isn't a way to spend your unlife. I'll raise my standards thusly. ❞ [Nanashi recognized that hint of sincerity, to his comfort and delight. It was refreshing to talk ( and even joke! ) with someone who shared his trauma; being able to take a shitty situation and mock it was the ultimate "turning lemons into lemonade." Meeting Dave might just be the best thing that ever happened to him.]

❝ Damn, that's pretty fucked up. ❞ [Nanashi laughed again, but as a "pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity" truther, he knew the depravity that Dave was alluding to. Nanashi was far from intimidated, though -- he had to know what was so bad that it could be compared to pineapple on pizza.] ❝ I'm not that bad -- I'm more "mixing ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise" bad. But hey...if you take me under your wing, we can be pretty fucked up together. ❞

It  seemed  that  the  two  of  them  were  the  same  in  quite  a  few  ways:  the  obvious,  of  course,  but  also  how  the  both  of  them  were  tredding  on  cautious  ground.  Or  not,  because  what  was  he  thinking  ?  Dave  Miller  doesn't  give  a  shit  what  anyone  thinks  of  him.

Anyway.

The  man  in  purple  grins  from  Nanashi's  joke,  forcing  an  over-the-top  face  of  contorted  disgust.  ❝  Frankly,  kid  ,  I  dunno  if  I  could  ever  reach  that  point  !  ❞   Dave  extends  his  hand  once  more,  only  milisecond  of  hesitation  .  .  .  this  time  ?  His  arm  reaches  out  fully,  cautiously,  and  settles  on  the  teenager's  shoulder  with  a  playful  pat.   ❝  C'mon,  man  !  Have  some  standards  !  Just  'cause  we  can't  die  doesn't  mean  we  gotta  torture  ourselves,  yeah  ?  ❞  His  smile  softens,  less  the  dramatic  grin  of  high  energy  and  something  a  little  more  sincere.  This  whole  thing  was  a  comfort  for  himself,  and  he  hoped  the  same  to  Nanashi.  Maybe  there  were  more  people  out  there  who  understood  their  “  party  trick  ”.  The  way  things  were  going  ?  Maybe  he  would  never  be  alone  again. 

Dave's  hand  retracts  and  he  folds  his  arms,  swaying  back  and  forth.  ❝  Oh  you  do,  do  you  ?  How  bad  are  we  talkin'  ?  I'm  like  .  .  .  pineapple  on  pizza  levels  of  fucked  up,  y'know.  I  dunno  if  you  can  handle  my  speed  of  awfulness.  ❞