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seenashwrite · 5 years

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Reprieve

Word Count: 1.9K Category: One-shot; Angst; Heart-Grabber; Soul-Stirrer; Introspection; Life Choices; Redemption; Second Chances; Lessons Learned Rating: (Older) Teen & Up Character(s): Reader/Female O.C.; the second, you’ll know after the first line; the third, I suppose, is optional Warnings: Moderate allusion to past trauma: suicide; see my Fic Warnings Master Post should you desire more detail without being spoiled entirely - it is linked off of the Master Post which is linked in my profile (see below for why not linked here) Author’s Note: *This is a re-post minus tags and links in an effort to make it show in searches*; it’s been suggested I tackle this subject/setting multiple times, might not be exactly how you’d imagined it playing out, but let’s see if we can’t remedy the situation to some degree of satisfaction because, to be sure, it’s been a long time coming; more post-story Overall Summary: There are many mistakes thought lost to time, filed away as impossible to fix. But perhaps they aren’t as far gone as it seems. Perhaps it’s just that some mistakes can’t be set right by the ones who’d made them.

So this was the infamous Cage.

The entrance sealed itself not a second after she’d taken her first steps, she’d known it was coming, no need to turn around. Placing a hand on the rail, she surveyed the area ahead as she began her descent. Not terribly impressive, her host, but the details of the welcome mat were an intriguing pitch, she’d give it that much.

A lifetime ago, when she was maybe six or seven years old, she’d gotten separated from her parents as they were all rushing down the steps leading to the subway, and she distinctly remembered the entirety of the incident, the entirety of the day when her life changed course. The nervous excitement she’d felt that morning upon her father saying, “Let’s go take a ride”, and her impatience with her mother fussing over what outfit was most appropriate for a trip to the zoo. She’d had a small camera, a recent birthday gift from her grandmother, in her pocket, and could recall the very serious concerns she’d had on the walk to the station, wondering if the exotic birds could be captured by her lens, or if they’d fly too high for her to find.

And then, in the time it took her to blink, the only two people she had in her life, the ones who’d vowed to protect her, had vanished.

The sounds of the people chatting loudly above her and around her and beside her made her ears throb, the smell of food and cigarettes on their clothes as they brushed by her face stung her nose, rolled her stomach, and how their bodies bumped each other, jostling her around, their weight pressing into her - it brought up an emotion she’d not yet experienced in her young life. It was the panic of abandonment. She was surrounded, but alone.

She could still call up the feel of her small hands pressing into her ears to drown out the noise, and the sensation of the collar of her pink chenille jacket against her face when she ducked her head, wanting to hide and be seen in the same moment. She’d clenched her eyes tightly once she’d managed to make it to a barely-there corner just to the side of the staircase, and it worked well enough. But clearest of all in her mind was the flashing and the buzzing.

One of the overhead lights at the bottom of the stairs had been flickering its last, sending out a death rattle at a pitch that snaked into her head no matter what she did, its pulse vacillating between hardly a shimmer and something like the sun, cutting through her eyelids. The feeling would never leave her, the sense that there was little she could do if the world was conspiring against her. The sense of being caught in a maze, struggling to find the one turn that would mean freedom, only to realize the exit was actually a trap.

The Cage had done its homework. The number of stairs, and the myriad cracks in the tiled walls were exact, the rounded entryway to the platform the precise shade of yellowed-white, and while there was no ceiling to speak of, just a boundless void, it did arrange for some ambiance via scant buzzing and muted flickers, despite the lack of the overhead light. One thing, however, was different.

A bright but pleasant glow was coming from around the corner, from the platform and the train, the effect waxing and waning, as if the Cage were calmly inhaling and exhaling - a prodding from her host, a not-so-subtle Come this way. She had such recall, it didn’t matter, not the light, not how dark it was in the stairwell, nor that the void was trailing lazily behind. The whole of it could’ve been a starless night, and she still would’ve known the way.

Initially, when the current task fell upon her shoulders and before she was fully briefed, she’d expected to find a winding catacomb of sorts, filled with nightmare-inducing imagery, God’s very own memento mori for his fallen star; then she’d been told the Cage was different for everyone. It was adaptable, solid and fluid all at once, balanced but unhinged, exacting yet scattered. A real oobleck oubliette.

The stray thought caused her to break form, a corner of her mouth tilting a bit despite the circumstances, but she sobered right up when the non-existent light cut out with a sharp pop that sounded - to her ears - like the shatter of the camera’s lens when it hit the concrete floor, the day she’d first been here. She’d dropped it at the initial shock of being lost. Lost, and to her heart, forgotten. And every person in that loud, smelly crowd were oblivious to her precious camera getting kicked around, to how their stomps ground the plastic and glass into powder, a crunching she could hear, even over her sobs.

The present crunch beneath her boots was more resonant, filling the space, but she’d learned how to do some ignoring herself as time went by. She didn’t want to know what it was, she didn’t bother to imagine what it was, same with the nearby scritching and distant growls, and she’d have told the Cage it could do better than that, but it would’ve been a waste of breath. It could, it would, and it did.

A lifetime ago, when she was maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, she’d gotten separated from her parents as they were all rushing to anywhere and everywhere, and she distinctly remembered the entirety of the incident, the entirety of the day when her life changed course The conviction she’d felt when she’d decided on the how and the when and the where, the apathetic manner in which she wrote and signed the note, and the curiosity, after, when she was hovering in the corner of her bedroom, hearing her father make some sort of inhuman sound as he dropped to his knees, the note falling with him. She watched the stoicism he’d carefully cultivated in himself as he’d grown older, grown bitter, fall away, too.

Then, later, the curiosity had persisted. She was still just out of sight, it seemed, since her sharp-eyed mother looked right through her on the repeated trips to and from the closet, fussing over what outfit was appropriate for the viewing, even though there couldn’t be a viewing, which was obvious, which was why it was curious. And most curious of all was the last thing they did for her, a gesture she’d not seen the likes of in many years, one not afforded to her, certainly not to each other. She’d been standing in the shadow cast by the thick trunk of a tree, unnoticed, when they’d placed a small photograph atop her casket; not one of the three of them, she hadn’t smiled in those for years. This was her favorite picture, and she hadn’t thought they’d known.

It was the one-and-only she’d taken with her camera, en route to the subway and the promised ride to the most wonderful place she’d ever been. The photo was of a pigeon who’d been toddling along a brownstone’s porch, caught just as it had begun to flap its wings, preparing for launch. It was off-center, and blurry, and messy, and perfect. The captured memory had been salvaged from the dropped camera, the film roll bruised but not broken, because in truth, they’d found her quickly that day. They’d scooped up the pieces, lifted her high off the ground, took her away from the chaos. She’d remembered this part far too late.

That was the most curious of all - the clarity. Some things couldn’t have been helped, but plenty could’ve. No convoluted reasoning, no one thing on which to hang understanding; she’d reached her limit, the end. Walked out the door, straight to the subway, same line from the way-back-when, even, and kept a steady pace right off the edge. Pity no one can testify to those who remain about the crushing regret that kicks in approximately one second into taking the leap, how it invades the brain right when the point of no return arrives, how its friend clarity disappears the current, once-perfect plan, and the list of solutions to previously unsolvable things steps in to take its place.

She remembered the brief joy of the realization that the impossible just might be do-able, live-able, before she came to an abrupt halt. And she knew exactly what she would say if she could speak to those who remained: I thought you gave up on me. But that’s not really why I left. I left because I gave up on me. That’s the catch when it comes to the deals offered to folks in her position: you can only remember what you want to forget.

Because she knew this already, it was surprising that her custom-fit cage didn’t. There was enough hazy illumination drifting about as she passed by the tracks for her to have seen the stopped but still-vibrating cars, though the Cage didn’t bother with the screech of the brakes, or the onlookers’ screams, none of the pounding footsteps of their escape, didn’t even go the extra mile and splash around any blood. Like the last time she’d found herself in this spot, she paid no mind to what surrounded her, and her pace didn’t slow, and she didn’t falter as she went over the edge, but on this occasion she hopped, landed solidly on her feet, proceeded down the tunnel, even walked atop the rail for awhile, executed an occasional gymnast-worthy spin, until, she supposed, the Cage had given up trying to pitch its hopeless sale.

She’d already bought hopelessness once, kept the receipts, and returned it long, long ago.

The room where she found him had three walls, no door, she simply went from the tunnel’s uneven gravel to the smooth wood flooring of the strange diorama. It was here she opted to peek over her shoulder - this she had to see, if the Cage was actually going to have once last go, if it would, if it could, and it did, though the effort was half-hearted, so to speak; the wall that had appeared was easily punchable plaster. No chance she couldn’t tear it down. And if what she’d been told was accurate, if she’d succeeded in navigating the maze, the exit - the real exit - would be right on the other side when it was time to leave. In her mind, that moment had arrived; as for him, she couldn’t be sure. Stay long enough, even a tomb can start to seem like a home.

It wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t light. It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet. There was no torture, but there was no peace. It just was. Unnerving little nook, she’d freely admit it. And then there was its occupant: he was an unmoving figment, a breath away from being out of sight, the kind that would vanish in the time it took to blink.

She’d prepared her mind, practiced the how, done her homework on the when and the where, all the things one does when readying themselves for a difficult task, yet now that she’d pushed through to the end, when it was almost finished, she didn’t have the first clue as to what to say. What do you say? There weren’t enough apologies, never could be, and who’d care? She was a stranger, and on purpose, just some a-hole on a holy mission. She wasn’t anyone who owed remorse. She wasn’t anyone who owed love. She was no one to him, no one at all.

So they stared at him, she and the Cage, had the feeling he was staring right back, watching as the walls began to warp, and her weight shifted from foot to foot, one or the other occasionally tapping as she pondered, the floorboards creaking as the Cage did the same, and just when the shadow started to slink away—-

“Hey, Adam…”

The retreat was halted. The weakened walls began to crumble. The soft smile she seldom showed made a one-night-only appearance as she extended a hand.

“…let’s go take a ride.”

Want more stories? My Master Post is linked in my profile, and it tells you about getting on the Tag List, too! If for whatever reason it gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to send an Ask and I’ll link you.

Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘

Author’s Note #2: She/You can be whatever “thing” you want her to be. Truly. I’ve had a “plot bunny” for awhile now - related to supernatural stuff but not related to SPN, per se - that persons who die by their own hand—

[And not meaning in a, like, I’m-gonna-take-out-all-you-f*cks-with-me way, and conversely not in an I’m-willfully-giving-my-life-for-XYZ way, or in a this-is-a-terminal-disease-and-I’m-going-out-on-my-own-terms way, I mean specifically, those who - like her - are at their limit for whatever reason]

—-have been offered a chance at an afterlife wherein they can be something to someone, accomplish things they wanted to but couldn’t while alive, etc. So for me - and don’t let me stomp on your imagination! - I’d love it if these folks/souls were the angels of death (a.k.a. - Reapers).

#Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfic #angst #Nash Writes #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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thatwritingho · 5 years

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Momento Mori

Chapter 2

Setting up a meeting with Olive Axworthy was proving to be much more of a challenge than Charles had expected. She had rejected all of his phone calls by the third ring, and was ignoring any letters sent by mail. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if she was throwing them out unopened. No one in their right mind would willing turn down working for Dethklok, especially in such close proximity to the members as she would be, so she must not have listened to his voicemails or read any of the invitations for an interview at all.

Her evasion had put a wrench in his plans, any other credible doctor he could have hired and had on the job a week ago.

Charles sighed as another attempted phone call went to voicemail. That settles it then. He’d just have to go in person.

It had been a long, hard day for Olive. The coworker scheduled to come in as her replacement had called in, something about his kid having the flu, and there had been a rather large pileup on the interstate leaving quite a few dead, so what should have been a typical 8 hour shift in the morgue had turned into a 14 hour shift as she was the only one there.

To top it off, she had been getting calls from an unidentified phone number at least twice a day for the past week, leaving her voicemails she hadn’t got around to listening to, and she was pretty sure the same one responsible for the calls was the one sending her a letter in the mail from an undisclosed address every single day.

And now, she was being followed.

A large, beefy man in all black had been tailing her for the past two days everywhere she went, and it was really starting to piss her off. Couldn’t these fuckers get the hint that she wasnt interested in whatever they wanted to use her for?

The next phone call she received, she would answer and give them a piece of her mind.

Organizations, societies, various private interest groups, and wealthy assholes all with questionable agendas frequently sought her out, seeing her as an easy acquisition what with her current employer. They expected her to pounce at the opportunity to work for somewhere “more esteemed” as they liked to put it.

But time and again, she had shot down all offers. Didn’t they realize that if she wanted to work for someone like that, she would use the connections she already had?

Idiots, all of them.

They hadn’t all taken ‘no’ as an answer, but none had been quite so persistent as this current pursuer.

With one last glance over her shoulder, she quickly unlocked the door to her building, nearly running face first into her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Baker.

“Whoah there, honey, keep your eyes forward when you walk!”

Olive placed a hand over her racing heart, giving the widow an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, sorry. Just had a long day, thought I saw someone I knew out there,” she glanced behind her one more time, but the mysterious stalker was no where to be seen, “Did you remember your key this time, Mrs. Baker?”

The old womans face fell, and she gave Olive a sheepish smile.

“Oh dear…”

This was a daily occurrence with Mrs. Baker, who’s memory wasn’t the best.

“Its ok, I’ll buzz you in when you get back. How long will you be?”

“Oh, I can’t imagine being gone more than a half hour, just running to the store!” The old woman put a wrinkled hand on Olive’s shoulder. “Thank you, dearie.”

“It"s no problem. Be careful, there’s creeps out tonight!”

Mrs. Baker’s face crinkled as she scrunched her nose, “When is there not?”

They both laughed and parted ways, Olive’s boots making the old staircase creak in protest as she tromped her way up the three flights. Yelling and music could be heard coming from her various neighbors as she ascended, as well as the smell of both cigarettes and weed despite the building being No Smoking. It was a typical, lively Friday night, but all she wanted was a fat joint, a frozen pizza, a shower, and to crawl into bed and be dead to the world for the next few hours.

Her body ached, her head was pounding, and she was so hangry she was ready to punch a hole in the wall.

After fighting the lock on her front door(her landlord still hadn’t gotten around to getting that replaced), Olive slammed the old wood behind her, clicking all 5 deadbolts into place, as well as the chain lock. She turned the knob on the old oven to preheat for her pizza, and stripped out of her nasty, smelly work clothes on her way to the bathroom for a well needed scrub.

The shiny, brand new rental car stuck out like a sore thumb in front of the dingey Brooklyn apartment building, and many passerby were staring at the man in a suit standing next to it. Charles had to double and triple check the adress, as this was not where he had expected someone of her talent and access to wealth to be living. Alas, it was correct, and he turned to the Klokateer who had driven him.

“Stay here, this won’t take long.”

“Yes, sir.”

Charles approached the listing and buzzer system on the outside of the brick building, scanning over the names until he found her, pressing her button and hoping she would answer. He knew she was home, he had had her followed to be sure, of course, but with the way she had avoided contact so far, he was skeptical that she would let him in.

The sound of a buzz and the door unlocking after only a few moments wait startled him, and he straightened his tie as he pushed open the squeaky door, making sure it shut fully behind him before making his way up the creaky stairs to the 3rd floor.

Olive had just barely had time to shower, change into an oversized Cattle Decapitation tshirt and a pair of yoga shorts, and throw her pizza in the oven when the buzzer ran.

“Oh, Mrs. Baker, what’re you going to do when I’m not here anymore?”

With a sigh, she pressed the button to open the front door without a second thought, plopping down on her couch and grabbing her tray from the coffee table, skillfully rolling herself a joint of indica to hopefully help her sleep. She had been having trouble getting a decent night’s rest as of late, mind plagued by nightmares she couldn’t remember upon waking.

It’s probably a good idea to run some diagnostics…

The curt knock at her front door made her jump in alarm, nearly knocking the rolling tray off her lap as she shot up to a standing position, eyeing the door warily. She had not been expecting company.

Shit. The stalker.

Damn, why didn’t I use the intercom to check to see if it was really Mrs. Baker?

Socked feet tiptoed silently over to the door, hearing enhanced for any slight sound that could alert her to the person’s identify. After all, it could just be Mrs. Baker after all, coming up to ask her something or another, or bring her cookies, or thank her for letting her in.

Yeah, I’m being too paranoid. I’m sure it’s just Mrs. Baker...

Despite her attempts to reassure herself, her heart continued to pound as she leaned in to check the peephole.

Thankfully, it wasn’t the stalker, at least, but it was no Mrs. Baker, either. Before her door stood a brunette man sporting glasses, a briefcase, and what she could tell was an Armani suit even through the shitty lens.

Oh, great… Better go ahead and get this over with.

Charles was a bit surprised at the sound of multiple locks undoing, he hadn’t even heard her footsteps approach the door, which seemed impossible with such old, squeaky hardwood flooring. He barely had time to push up his glasses and straighten his tie once more before the door cracked open just enough to allow for a tan face and mass of pink hair to be seen, chain lock still in place.

“Can I help you?”

“Olive Axworthy, yes?”

Dark eyes narrowed, pouty lips turning down into a scowl. “What do you want?”

Charles cleared his throat. This was going to be more difficult than he anticipated.

“My name is Charles Foster Offdensen, CFO and manager of Dethklok. May I come in?”

Her face morphed into one of confusion, but she took his offered business card, he didn’t miss the spark of curiosity flash across her eyes, and she closed the door without a word, opening it fully a moment later after removing the chain.

“This is a, ah, lovely place you got here.”

The man, Charles Foster Offdensen, eyed her apartment with well hidden disdain, despite his attempt at a compliment.

“Sure. So, what exactly are you doing here? Unannounced, at that.”

He fixed his eyes on the petite woman before him, even given his own short stature, he still towered over her five-foot-nothing figure.

“Well, I wouldn’t have had to come unannounced, if you had answered any of my calls or responded to my invitations. Did you even listen to any of the voicemail I left?”

“No, sorry.” Olive’s eyes held no remorse despite her words.

The man sighed, “I thought not. This is by no means how I had wanted to conduct your interview, but it will do I suppose.”

Her face melted into once of quiet rage and disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

Who the fuck does this guy think he is?

“I, ah, have an offer for you. An employment offer. To be the members of Dethklok’s personal physician.”

A few moments passed of utter silence as she stared at him in bewilderment.

“Um, sorry, but what? Did I hear you properly? You do know I’m a mortician, right?”

Charles seemed unfazed, happy that the bristly woman hadn’t kicked him out of her apartment yet.

“Yes, well, I’ve looked through your history, and in spite of your current position, I find you to be a perfect candidate for this role. The, ah, only candidate, in fact.”

“You can’t be serious. I’m sure there’s plenty of people more qualified than I am.”

At this Charles shook his head, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Sorry to say, but coming here’s been a waste of your time. I’m obviously not who you need, and I’m not even looking for a new job,” She turned around at the sound of an oven ding, waving a hand over her shoulder in dismissal.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, buddy.”

Charles was undeterred, standing his ground and making no move for the door.

“I would make it worth your while. The yearly salary would be in the triple digits.”

A scoff was his only reply as she grabbed an oven mitt, removing her dinner from the oven as if he wasn’t even there.

“At least let me inform you of what the position entails.”

She turned back toward him with a roll of her eyes, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms, leveling him with an dull expression.

“Ok, I’ll humor you, man. Go ahead and tell me all about how wonderful an opportunity it is, how it’s going to change my life and grow my crops and clear my skin and make all my problems evaporate into thin air. But do finish before my pizza gets cold, yeah?”

The man cleared his throat, “Well, I can’t promise all of that, but if you’re having skin issues, we do employ a wonderful dermatologist who would be at your disposal should you so choose.”

Dark eyes widened, blinking owlishly at him as her face morphed into a small smirk.

“You’re funny, dude. But I don’t have all night.”

“Right. Like I said, the position is for a personal physician to Dethklok’s members. But this is a bit more advanced than just being an on-call doctor. You would be required to be present at all events, concerts, appearances, as well as living at Mordhaus, free of charge, of course, and stay in close proximity to the band at all times to provide both preventative care and as insurance in case the unexpected were to happen, along with your typical check ups and tests. This includes being present for all band meetings, recording sessions, and any general, ah, excursions the boys might partake in. While living at Mordhaus, you would have access to all amenities there, within reason, of course. And as I said, you would be well compensated for your efforts.”

Charles finished his schpiel confidently, staring down the shocked woman who’s mouth was agape, body more relaxed and less guarded as she processed the information.

Dethklok. This guy really hand selected her to work with Dethklok. And so closely with them, too! She had to stop her inner fangirl from getting too excited at the prospect, and she hooped it didn’t show through to her expression.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re saying you want me to be, like, a body guard, but, like, against health conditions instead of attackers? Did I hear that right?”

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose.”

“And this is a serious offer? Like, do they really want this?” Olive was understandably in disbelief, after all…

What kind of rich asshats need an ever-present doctor at their disposal?

It was an utterly ridiculous request.

“Well, I wouldn’t say the band wants this, per say, but it is in their best interest and they have agreed to give it a shot. Which is what I’m asking of you. Just a two week trial, to see if you’re a good fit for the boy’s needs.”

Charles walked into the kitchenette, setting his Maxwell Scott briefcase down on the counter and popping open the latch, pulling out a stack of paperwork and a gold and black Montblanc pen.

“I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up a contract for your trial run, give it a read over and sleep on it. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

He handed the papers to the stunned girl, then gathered up his belongings and headed for the door, stopping halfway to turn back to her.

“And do make sure to answer my call this time. I’d rather not have to make another special trip.”

With that, he was gone, leaving as quickly and unexpectedly as he had arrived. Olive glanced to the contract in her hands, skimming over the first page. This seemed legit. What the fuck. This was insane. Absolutely, utterly, comically insane.

But not as insane as the fact that she was seriously considering it.

With a heavy, long suffering groan, she carefully placed the papers on the counter, she needed to eat before she could deal with reading business jargon. Turning back to her untouched pizza, she nearly cried in frustration to find it was cold.

God damn it, what an asshole.

Charles, now comfortably back in his office the following day, was pleasantly surprised when Olive answered the phone, and after only two rings at that. Before he had the chance to greet her, he was interrupted, and a smile of satisfaction stole across his face at her words.

“Alright, man, as much as I wish I could turn you down to wipe that shit eating grin off your face that I’m sure you’re gonna have after this, I can’t. Good job, man, you convinced me. When do I start?”

Alright, chapter two! I actually finished it when I said I would, too! Fucking unbelievable, I stg. Let’s see if I can keep this up and post chapter 3 tomorrow! Olive will be introduced to the band!

#metalocalypse #charles foster offdensen #original character #original female character #metalocalypse oc #dethklok #pickles/oc #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #william murderface #klokateers #momento mori

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octranslations · 6 years

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Haiiro no Ginka Volume 48

Haiiro no Ginka vol. 48 September 2010

Translation Credits:

Toshiya Aibiki no Mori - Risu Mu No Koufuku, Sanretsusha To Kubi/Happiness of Nothing The Assembled Neck - kirei_hukkatsu edited by Cammie & Risu Gansonaki Kaoruya - Cammie Die Meisyo De Meisyu - Cammie Shinya Dr. nemunemu no daigyakusyu - Nao DIR EN GREY at TOKYO TRANSFER - Cammie News and So On - Cammie

Toshiya Aibiki no Mori

This is the new skirt that I am wearing from the first day of THE UNWAVERING FACT OF TOMORROW TOUR2010.

Of course, SHELLAC’s Mr. AKINORI and Mr. ATSUSHI made it for me, the skirt this time was made with much enthusiasm and turned out to be an item with a pretty high quality

They used leather on the hip portion and added more pleats, above all Mr. AKINORI who has been friends with 13 THIRTEEN from before used a 13 THIRTEEN custom order buckle for the hip belt clasp thus making it even more luxurious.

It was made so well that a girl from the office exclaimed if there is female version of this skirt, I want one too!

I am always very grateful to Mr. AKINORI and Mr. ATSUSHI from the bottom of my heart. Thank you very much!

And, this was way back but here is one picture of when I went out for drinks with Big Brother WUMF [Wake Up Mother Fucker (J)] and coincidentally RIZE’s KenKen was there and it somehow became a BASSIST drinking session.

I wonder if you know whose hand is who? (laughs)

Well lets meet again on the next “Aibiki no Mori”!

Mu No Koufuku, Sanretsusha To Kubi/Happiness of Nothing The Assembled Neck

...I am sleepy?...tired?…I really don’t know... When you're concentrating like hell on something, the brain secretes adrenaline. ...what a selfish guy...I feel that things that I can concentrate on are extremely less than ordinary people. Furthermore rather than the common average level of concentration, powers of memory, my brain tissue feels… as crappy/shitty as Alice in Wonderland.

Right now, it’s fine as long as I am able to just focus 120% in composition, writing lyrics and during lives...

I am changing the subject but recently it feels like there are more strange/weird people… is it because they are young? Or is it because humanity is rotting, which is it? I really would like for them to stop this pointless behavior and behavior that they would seem to regret afterwards This is not just lip service/empty talk because this is what I really think, and what I am hoping for. To be specific it’s the garbage at the live venue…why can it be thrown there? There is a lot of garbage in the box [venue] where we played…is that okay? Don't you hate it when there is a lot of garbage in front of your own house?

I don’t remember if I’ve said this before but There is nothing more beautiful than something immaculate/pure, and that is cruel The more I think it’s beautiful, I feel that I am become dirtier But while I’m happy in realizing this, I feel like i’m being left alone in a stark white space/room/void. At that time I’m very sad and lonely But this feels like as if I found something important again, and I think that I should cherish this time. Such a weird feeling.

If everyone has also experienced this moment, I would like for you to try not forget it and cherish it

Well I have a tendency to talk about these things or hard/difficult/tough/serious things every time but I am not a good person in any way (laughs) I don’t know what but it is true how I am desperate to change something and I am going all out to confront myself.

People who give their everything when doing something are amazing, and you really get empowered too. If we could have a live with only those people, somehow something amazing could be born with this amazing feeling of oneness and that is exciting Even now I am a die-hard rebel (laughs), but I think that for those people who come to our lives, buy our CDs, and feel something from us, I really don’t want to betray them, and I want to keep on fighting/struggling onwards I think I am going to sleep soon…

It would make me happy if you were able to feel something this time again.

Kyo

Gansonaki Kaoruya

Are you guys doing well? The tour ended with a blink of an eye; this is Kaoru.

The tour was short this time, but for the band, I think this was a productive tour. I began to see many challenges from here on after too. But the overseas tour will continue for a while. The content (of overseas tour) will have songs we want to do at the moment, so it will differ from this tour. Everyone must be like “Do new songs~!” but “If we can, then we will!” I think I would just like to go on without deciding on anything.

In any case, it’s been a while since I got uptight in South Korea. 40 minutes before the show, the Macbook for the tour crashed and I felt really frustrated. The festival staff told us that the time can be pushed back a little bit since they wanted us to do the live in perfect condition, and we managed to recover the files and did the live. I’m very appreciative of them. But if we had a little more time, we would’ve been able to do it at a better condition...

I think that was the first time where I was glaring at the Macbook one minute before the actual show.

And now I’m in London, but during Sonisphere, my equipment had trouble and it was a disaster... I may go somewhere to get my bad luck dispelled once I go back (to Japan).

It really hasn’t been a while but you see various things at lives. There are things you’ll never realize when you’re in a studio or have encounters. And be able to drink together with a group of friends that you haven’t seen in a while. There was an incident that made me realize how all groups of friends are a part of me and are an important existence. Everyone, please cherish your group of friends!

Then, everyone must be wondering about our new song release since time has passed quite a bit after “Hageshisa~” but They’re (songs) getting finished bit by bit, so just wait a little okay~

So let’s see each other soon!

Die Meisyo De Meisyu

I, “with this-> 1 (laughs)", quit smoking...

Good bye AMERICAN SPIRIT!!!!!!!!!

So, I just came back from the U.K. and Russia lives yesterday.

After I went back to my home, I slept for 12 hours. It’s been a while since I slept this much. It may be the first time this year. Even for this tour, there wasn’t a day where I’ve gotten a good sleep. That would make me sleep for the whole day. I guess it would be the best to encounter a pillow that will be the perfect match and bring it to tours.

But as rumored, Russia was very hot. At least have the airport cooled! Seriously! Plus, due to the forest fire (which I didn’t know at all), the moment we got off the airplane, it was smoky; and when we went outside the sky was covered with smoke. This may be the first time to see such an eerie atmosphere. And what I thought “this can’t be happening” occurred. The car we were on from the airport to get to the hotel didn’t have air conditioner... Of course the window is open but only the warm wind and smelly smoke came in. When we got off the airplane, we couldn’t get out of the airport due to luggage problem for about 2 hours, and when we thought we finally got out of there, we were in the car without air conditioner for about 2 hours. Give me water. Seriously, I was feeling dizzy inside the car. What is this survival? During this time I always remember the tours in Japan. It’s heaven. I guess overseas will not let us be spoiled yet. Well, tolerance is necessary for human beings and you should never forget how to endure. I should be thankful of how there are still situations that toughens us up.

(After arriving to the hotel, we went to go eat Chinese with the staff, but it extremely tasted shitty and our day ended there.)

I seem to be complaining, “It’s hot, it’s hot” but the venues at the 2 shows in Russia were both endlessly hot. European venues are old buildings and they usually have bad ventilation. The heat inside the venue made me feel dizzy and my hand playing the guitar was all wet and since it was slippery, I was messing up a lot. My sound was getting damp and I think it was losing its force...

But for the situation where the entire venue wrapped up in heat and a couple of everyone’s “screw” jumping out where it’s definitely not calm, I don’t hate it. When I used to play at small live houses, this kind of situation made me feel that it was the actual live and I think there were times where the amount of sweat determined whether the live was good or bad. When we are in Japan, we are at a very fortunate circumstance. We have the best staffs that have supported our stage for many years too. But at overseas, we have little or no staff. We naturally don’t have a stage director and the person in charge of lighting is our operator, and for equipments, we have the minimal things differing from what we originally have. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the 5 people standing on stage. These kinds of situations let us destroy what we created during the domestic tour in a good way. This obstacle must be training us. You can’t gain this kind of experience when your environment is always laid out.

I want to be stronger more and more. To the point where I can fight without wearing a strong armor.

So that no matter what kind of situation we are under, DIR EN GREY can be DIR EN GREY.

Translator's Note

1. The pinky finger at the beginning have two known meanings in Japan. The first one is how you use a pinky finger to make a promise. The second meaning is female, usually a lover when someone (well, wiki also says this, but I've also only heard guys ask this question in this way) asks"?? (this)" and puts up a pinky finger.

Source Wikipedia

http://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%B0%8F%E6%8C%87

(Sorry, there is no English translation explaining this...)

Shinya Dr. nemunemu no daigyakusyu

And so, let’s begin this volume’s Nemunemu. I have thought of writing Korea, England, and Russia where I’ve been this time but it’s almost surprising that there is nothing especially interesting to write about so there’s nothing especially interesting written . So, let’s begin.

Nemunemu Diary ~Korea, England, Russia Edition~ July 24 We went to Korea a day before the live. Onboard the plane, I just read One-Piece1 that I placed in my iPad. (Refer to last volume) Before I knew it, we arrived at Korea and unsurprisingly/expectedly we ate yakiniku2 From midnight the staff will be setting the equipment at the venue so I went there to check if Dr. Nemunemu’s drumset was prepared well. It was sort of tough but at least the minimum requirements were there. I did some various settings and returned to the hotel at around 5 o’ clock in the morning.

July 25 It’s the day of the Korea live. It’s a festival so there was no rehearsal and it was immediately the performance itself. Just before the performance there was computer trouble and it was chaotic until the last moment but we somehow managed to get it ready for the performance and began Zan the first song. And then, the sound from the monitors facing Dr. Nemunemu was weird. While performing, I instructed George who was behind me a couple of times but I couldn’t hear any of the other members’ sound or my sound, I could just only hear noise. Until the end I played by instinct without it being fixed.

July 31 England. As always, on the plane, it’s One-Piece. In the beginning I didn’t know what was especially interesting but it became more interesting when I read until volume 45 but in order to understand more I went back to volume 1 and began reading. Then, we arrived at the hotel. We were going to stay for 4 nights in that hotel. This time it’s 2 people in 1 room so I was in the same room as bassist T but, lo and behold, it’s a room with only 1 double bed. The 2 of us were saying things like, hey, is this for real?, it’s going to be like this for 4 days and such. And after a few hours it was meal time and when we met up at the lobby, we talked about the bed with the others and surprisingly all the other rooms had 2 beds. So we swiflty had our room changed to have 2 beds.

August 1 For equipment check we went into a studio today. The drum set was almost perfectly prepared. And when I checked the monitor during the nightmare at the Korea, lo and behold the earphone cable was dead. It was good to know the cause of it.

August 2 It’s the festival in England. Our turn is at 2pm but because the venue was far from the hotel we departed at 8 in the morning. The live, performance-wise ended without a hitch. I wanted to see other bands but when the interviews and such ended the roads were packed so we immediately went back home.

August 3 Today was an off day. Well there wasn’t a place I especially wanted to go to so I stayed in the room and read One-Piece for the entire time.

August 4 Before the live we were at BBC Radio from the morning and recorded a song. After that we went to the live house. We were able to do the rehearsal well and we were able to perform perfectly it was a really good live.

August 5 We then moved to Moscow. The tempreature is 37C degrees. On top of it being really hot it seems that there are brush fires nearby and the city is covered with smoke. And then we arrived at the hotel after 2 hours using car with no air-conditioning. And when I was simply changing the channel of the hotel’s TV, surprisingly One-Piece was on! Moreover it was in Japanese! It was the first time I heard all of their voices.

August 6 It’s the Moscow live. It’s also hot outside but inside the venue it was extremely hot. After the live, I sweated so much that you can wring sweat out from my white shirt. The drum set completely lacked parts that it was a very difficult set but performance-wise I was able to play well.

August 7 Woke up at 7 in the morning and we went to St. Petersburg. We arrived after a 1 1/2 hour flight. Again, the drum set was different so I went to the venue with a staff for equipment check. Today was also a tough drum set but I was able to give my best.

August 8 It’s the day to go home. The flight was around noon but from the hotel to the airport, it’s 30 minutes if the traffic is light and 4 hours if it’s heavy like a sense of time that I can’t comprehend so we left the hotel early in the morning. We arrived in 40 minutes so I concentrated on One-Piece. And for the transfer at Paris for 5 hours I waited with more One-Piece and also on board the plane.

Well, was it a tour where I went to do lives or read One-Piece, but surprisingly there is an iPhone App that when you buy a rice ball at Lawson you get a character stamp on your iPhone, and if you collect 5 you can obtain a big secret treasure; indeed an App that was made for Dr. Nemunemu who loves both One Piece and iPhone has appeared. Morever, it starts from August 10 which is why, since no one can match up to me with One-Piece, I brought along the boastful/bombastic roadie George after the August 10 drum recording ended to play it.

First, download the app. This is where you put in the stamp. The recording was in Shibuya so I opened the app in Shibuya and looked at the map. You could see who is there at which Lawson in one glance. As expected of Shibuya, there are a lot of Lawsons so the characters are complete.

When I activated log pose it showed the way to the closest Lawson.

We arrived at the first Lawson by following this.

Then when I typed in the number in the receipt of the rice ball that I bought in the app, Robin’s character was stamped in.

And then we arrived at the second Lawson.

This Lawson is located in a questionable/sketchy area and there were questionable/sketchy adults hanging around so I wasn’t able to take a photo. There I bought another rice ball in the store and Nami was stamped in.

This is the third Lawson.

I bought another rice ball and I got Zoro’s stamp.

And the fourth Lawson.

In the app explanation all rice balls are eligible so without aiming/choosing I got a fermented soybean(natto) sushi roll.

What the !! There is no number printed on the receipt!!! The sushi roll was not an rice ball!! If I buy another rice ball to fix this, the store person will probably think, ‘Ah! this guy is collecting One-Piece stamps and made a mistake by buying a sushi roll’ which is why I wanted to go to a different Lawson. But according to the map, Chopper is here and in the Shibuya area, Chopper is only available in this Lawson. So I just endured it and bought 1 more rice ball. It didn’t show on the store keeper’s face but I can see him laughing inside.

Well, I went through that much trouble but I got the Chopper’s stamp.

And the fifth and the last Lawson.

I bought a rice ball and brilliantly got the final stamp. It did not even take one hour total. There seems to be a weird skeleton stamp here. This guy hasn’t come out on volume 45. Who is this???

Anyway, there are still 3 characters left but I can apply for the big secret treasure prize so let’s apply. You can choose among the three prizes. Firstly, for the first 30,000 people, a post card set.....hmm...I don’t need that..... Next, for the first 5000 people, a clear file set.....hmm...I don’t need that......And next, 100 people will be picked to get a metallic kung-fu ace figure...hmm.....I don’t need that....but, anyhow I will pick this one. Which means I didn’t really need the goods but collecting the stamps was fun. Because it’s a game especially done with the iPhone. As expected of the iPhone. If I had an iPhone during my childhood I will be an even more exceptional adult. Okay, 3 more people to go so I guess I will go for the second round. So this means it’s the end. This volume’s present is a drum head with Chopper’s portrait according to the painter Nemunemu. People who want this should write to ?106-8691 Japan Post Box [a knot] Nemunemu present staff with their member number, address, name, age, phone number and feelings about Dr. Nemunemu’s large counter attack. ( Long messages will have bearing)

Finally, I just noticed this when I took the picture of all the 6 rice balls I collected!

I bought 2 shrimp mayonnaise rice balls!! I even confirmed with George that I seem to have bought one already. And since he flat-out said, “You haven’t bought shrimp mayo.” so I believed him! So remember what you just did a few minutes ago! That goes for Nemunemu as well.

Until the next issue.

Translator’s notes: 1 One-Piece is a long-running sh?nen manga written and illustrated by Eiichiro Oda, that has been serialized in Weekly Sh?nen Jump since August 4, 1997. (sourced from wiki) 2 Yakiniku (??? or ??), meaning "grilled meat", is a Japanese term which, in its broadest sense, refers to grilled meat dishes. In North America, China and Taiwan, Yakiniku is also referred to as either "Japanese barbecue" or "Korean barbecue" due to its Korean origins. (sourced from wiki)

DIR EN GREY at TOKYO TRANSFER

After playing in South Korea, U.K, and a first-time visit to Russia, DIR EN GREY has spent a dense hot summer . In addition, they only returned for 2 weeks and went on to North America where their stay in Tokyo was indeed a period of “transfer”, but even with the small amount of time, they used it for their creative activity. In between their precious time, the 5 members told this only to “Haiiro no Ginka”.

Interview: Yuichi Masuda

?Your first live since the domestic tour was on 7/25 at “Pentaport Rock Festival” in Incheon, South Korea. I guess there are many things you do not want to be reminded of...

Kyo: ... (Wry smile) Die: Out of my memory, that was the worst live out of the past shows Toshiya: That’s the truth (laughs). Simply put, it may be the environment’s fault, but if we bring that up, it becomes an excuse. The moment I felt myself relenting, I felt like “I lost”.

?Was the reason due to equipment problem?

Kaoru: The Mac we were using became no good 40 minutes before the show where it stopped working all of the sudden. We asked to get our back up Mac immediately from our hotel, but it arrived at the time when our show was going to start. We had to begin our performance without making adjustments, and everything was a mess. The staff were all caught up with that and the set up was not done properly. That effect literally showed up during our performance. Kyo: After the live was over, we actually laughed. Like “That was crazy!” (laughs) Die: I never felt a live to be so long. I thought, “Please just end!” I think the staff felt the same way too. Shinya: In my case, on top of that, the cable for my ear monitor was dead. I could only hear noise. Die: The staff had a hard time too. They began setting up the day before and it took until 7 in the morning, but due to their (festival) situation, they had to start all over again on the actual day. Kaoru: In any case, it was a day where nothing went right (laughs).

?That was unfortunate. There must have been a sense of hunger for the local fans since you guys have been distant from them for many years.

Die: That was there. Something like anticipation. Kaoru: So we want to go do a proper live again. Kyo: Yep. It was really frustrating. We did “Zan” for the first song. We wanted the first blow to go off with a bam, but the moment it began, we didn’t know what we were doing. We just depended on luck or just go with our gut feeling. Kaoru: We brought along the lighting staff and we were planning on making a stage with an atmosphere, really.

?When you wanted to create chaos there was already a real one prepared (laughs). So, one week after that nightmare, you guys went on stage for “SONISPHERE” in the U.K.

Kaoru: Here, my equipment had problems. Since there was the incident at South Korea, I thought, “Well, it’s fine as long as we’re able to make sound.” But that sound was really, really small where you couldn’t hear it at all. Die: Really, you will become festival-phobic (laughs). Kyo: When the live began, I could only hear the drum and my singing, and from there, my excitement fell. At the part where everything should go with a roar from the beginning of the performance, we could not hear anything we needed to hear at all. Shinya: I didn’t have any problems. I was able to do an equipment check the day before and I was able to fix the monitor problem.

?Wasn’t the reaction wonderful? Out of all your festival experience too.

Kaoru: True. The people were not waiting for the band playing after us where there were many of them that came to see us. Die: Once our performance began, there were many people that gathered as if they were getting sucked in. Toshiya: The stage itself felt good. We didn’t have any actual proof in a sense where what we were doing was delivered clearly, but 2 days later, the ticket for our one-man (live) at KOKO increased right after “SONISPHERE”, and I was happy when I heard about it. There must have been many people that thought, “I want to see them again.”

?That must have been a happier news than selling out on the actual day. By the way, for the “SONISPHERE” stage, you performed part of “Prowler” from Iron Maiden right?

Kaoru: That was the first time where we included someone else’s song into our songs and performed it. The headliner for that day was IRON MAIDEN, so for the people that never heard of us before, we thought it can be a good catalyst to get to know us. Since our band would be the one that would be highly unlikely of doing this, I thought it was all right to do it once in a while (laughs). Die: Yep. It’s not like we will be doing this every time from now on (laughs).

?After “SONISPHERE” ended, squeezing in a day off, you had your solo show in London. I thought the live at KOKO was simply good. It could be said to be at the best live level.

Kaoru: It was very easy to perform. Due to what happened at the previous 2 shows (laughs). The performing environment and setup was very good too. Kyo: Also, the stage should definitely be dark (laughs). During the festival, it was still bright during our time. The construction of the venue also had an atmosphere, which was good. Shinya: There was no problem concerned with playing. Toshiya: We were able to play with a good feeling. I immersed myself into the live, but there was a sensation where our feet reached the ground.

?But right after the live that felt good, you returned to the hotel and prepared yourselves to depart to Russia 5 hours later. I went back ahead at that point.

Die: Russia was just so hot. London was nice and cool. Kaoru: During live, we were just sweating to the point where that was the only thing I remembered. Kyo: Normally, as the performance goes on, the audience’s excitement increases right? But everyone was so exhausted and their excitement went down (laughs). The live went well, but you know, we were sweating to the point where there was a puddle underneath our feet... Die: I felt like I was playing desperately as I felt dizzy. My guitar was all wet from the sweat and it became slippery too. The live was easy to do though. Shinya: I sweated to the point where I could wring it from my attire... However, the drum I got from the local area did not have enough parts set and it was not a satisfying situation, but aside from that, the monitor environment was good so I guess it was not bad.

?You landed on Russia for the first time. Was there any sensation you felt because this was a place visited for the first time?

Kaoru: Naturally, since this was our first time, rather than people not knowing how to get into it, the crowd was small. It was like 5 years ago when we first played in Berlin. Toshiya: I had this selfish impression of this place to be a closed country, but regardless of this thought, I felt a strong sense of hunger from the audience. The degree or the type of yearning to burst was a little different.

?Did you have any time to explore the town in Moscow?

Kyo: The entire town was covered with smoke due to the forest fire, so it didn’t look pretty at all. It was tough wearing masks during a hot weather. Die: The scenery felt as if it was clouded. We passed by Red Square, but it wasn’t a time to take a commemorative photo. Kaoru: After the live was over, (tour manager and PA in-charge) Rick suggested, “Why don’t we go to Red Square on the way back to the hotel?” But every was like, “No thanks. Let’s just go back (laughs).” Even during that hour, it was still hot. Kyo: It was like, please undestand (laughs). Shinya: Even for food, there wasn’t any good impression... The Chinese food we ate on the first day was strange too. Kaoru: That tasted awful. But after the live was over, we had pizza as usual (laughs).

?The next day after the Moscow show, you moved on to Saint Petersburg and went straight to the live.

Die: We had a tight schedule. We went with on an airplane while the equipment moved by train. Toshiya: The place had more open feeling than Moscow. Including the building, it had a very European feeling. I would like to go there again. I would certainly like to go to Moscow without the ash covering up the place (laughs).

?By the way, after the 2 shows in Russia, you guys had a hard time returning back to Narita Airport right?

Kaoru: It took 23 hours (laughs). We first flew to Paris and afterwards it’s a direct flight to Narita, but we had 6 hours of waiting time in Paris. Shinya: I just kept playing around with my iPad. Kaoru: Everyone gathered where there was electricity (laughs). Toshiya: Honestly, it was tough. If we slept there, a weird jet lag will begin. After returning, we already knew we had work starting so I wanted to adjust my body clock.

?So after you guys came back, there was work every day awaiting, and without any break, you guys departed for the North American tour from 8/21. The conversation from this point onward will be for the next issue.

Die: I look forward to it. We had a single live with KILLSWITCH ENGAGE before, but this is the first time to have 2 bands on an equivalent relation. Kaoru: APOCALYPTICA’s live is beyond my imagination, so there is a part where I can’t predict. But we will not do a live that just gets wild either, so it may mesh well and turn into an interesting feel. Kyo: Yep.

?They are a “quartet cello metal” after all!

Shinya: But they have a drummer right? I hope to gain some inspiration. Toshiya: Yep. It would of course be wonderful if we can get along, but that is not our purpose. First I would like to get some inspiration. And as a result, if we can have good relation with them, I think that would be great.

News & So On

Foreign bands challenge North America!! Since the release of “UROBOROS,” their 3rd North American co-headlining together with APOCALYPTICA that are formed with 3 cellists and a drummer from a well-known music school, was decided in July. APOCALYPTICA that has gained strong support from many famous bands all over the world mainly collaborating with vocalists will be with DIR EN GREY. Being complete “foreigners,” what kind of shock will these 2 bands create in North America this summer?! Including Canada that has not been visited for 1 year and 9 months, their TOUR report during their trip to 16 cities will be told in detail on the next volume! Stay tuned!

Comeback to the night that will shake Japan!! Their second appearance in 4 years to the largest domestic metal festival, “LOUD PARK,” has been decided! The line-up for 10/15 (Sat.)DIR EN GREY includes Korn and Stone Sour, which the band hasn’t met since ‘06 “Family Values Tour,” solo project HALFORD by Halford (vo.) from JUDAS PRIEST, and HELL YEAH formed by the members from PANTERA and MUDVAYNE. These are all artists that have achieved prominence in the world’s music scene! After gaining experience at overseas stage in “Download,” “Wacken,” and “Sonisphere,” how will their comeback to “LOUD PARK” turn out?!

Hot topic! A flood of interviews!! On 8/1 (Sun.), we arrived to “Sonisphere Festival” after a one hour drive. The venue was a peaceful area filled with green rural scenery, and it was overcrowded with people covered in metal t-shirt and TATTOOs. Right before the LIVE, they had a photo shoot for the group photo that was going to be posted on the official site, and off they went on stage. For LIVE report and detail of the actual location, please take a look at Mr. Masuda’s article. After the LIVE was over, the surging interview time has started! Due to booking by Mr. Adam who is in charge of UK promotion, there was a schedule made to have 10 interviews in 2 hours (one interview on average of 10 minutes!). In addition, there were 3 more included after seeing the LIVE, and there was photo shoot for “Rock Sound,” and a photo shoot for a group shot was decided in a hurry at the “Kerrang!” booth! During the LIVE, more than 30 photographers went in and out in front of their stage where we were able to observe a high anticipation towards DIR EN GREY.

#haiiro no ginka

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seenashwrite · 6 years

Text

Reprieve

Status: Complete Word Count: 1.9K Category: One-shot; Heart-Grabber; Soul-Stirrer; Introspection; Life Choices; Redemption; Second Chances; Lessons Learned Rating: (Older) Teen & Up Character(s): Reader/Female O.C.; the second, you'll know after the first line; the third, I suppose, is optional Warnings: Moderate allusion to past trauma: suicide; see my Fic Warnings Master Post HERE, should you desire more detail without being spoiled entirely. Author’s Note: It's been suggested I tackle this subject/setting multiple times, might not be exactly how you'd imagined it playing out, but let's see if we can't remedy the situation to some degree of satisfaction because, to be sure, it's been a long time coming; More post-story Overall Summary: There are many mistakes thought lost to time, filed away as impossible to fix. But perhaps they aren’t as far gone as it seems. Perhaps it’s just that some mistakes can't be set right by the ones who'd made them.

So this was the infamous Cage.

The entrance sealed itself not a second after she'd taken her first steps, she'd known it was coming, no need to turn around. Placing a hand on the rail, she surveyed the area ahead as she began her descent. Not terribly impressive, her host, but the details of the welcome mat were an intriguing pitch, she'd give it that much.

A lifetime ago, when she was maybe six or seven years old, she'd gotten separated from her parents as they were all rushing down the steps leading to the subway, and she distinctly remembered the entirety of the incident, the entirety of the day when her life changed course. The nervous excitement she'd felt that morning upon her father saying, "Let's go take a ride", and her impatience with her mother fussing over what outfit was most appropriate for a trip to the zoo. She'd had a small camera, a recent birthday gift from her grandmother, in her pocket, and could recall the very serious concerns she'd had on the walk to the station, wondering if the exotic birds could be captured by her lens, or if they'd fly too high for her to find.

And then, in the time it took her to blink, the only two people she had in her life, the ones who'd vowed to protect her, had vanished.

The sounds of the people chatting loudly above her and around her and beside her made her ears throb, the smell of food and cigarettes on their clothes as they brushed by her face stung her nose, rolled her stomach, and how their bodies bumped each other, jostling her around, their weight pressing into her - it brought up an emotion she'd not yet experienced in her young life. It was the panic of abandonment. She was surrounded, but alone.

She could still call up the feel of her small hands pressing into her ears to drown out the noise, and the sensation of the collar of her pink chenille jacket against her face when she ducked her head, wanting to hide and be seen in the same moment. She'd clenched her eyes tightly once she'd managed to make it to a barely-there corner just to the side of the staircase, and it worked well enough. But clearest of all in her mind was the flashing and the buzzing.

A bright but pleasant glow was coming from around the corner, from the platform and the train, the effect waxing and waning, as if the Cage were calmly inhaling and exhaling - a prodding from her host, a not-so-subtle Come this way. She had such recall, it didn't matter, not the light, not how dark it was in the stairwell, nor that the void was trailing lazily behind. The whole of it could've been a starless night, and she still would've known the way.

Initially, when the current task fell upon her shoulders and before she was fully briefed, she'd expected to find a winding catacomb of sorts, filled with nightmare-inducing imagery, God's very own memento mori for his fallen star; then she'd been told the Cage was different for everyone. It was adaptable, solid and fluid all at once, balanced but unhinged, exacting yet scattered. A real oobleck oubliette.

The stray thought caused her to break form, a corner of her mouth tilting a bit despite the circumstances, but she sobered right up when the non-existent light cut out with a sharp pop that sounded - to her ears - like the shatter of the camera's lens when it hit the concrete floor, the day she’d first been here. She'd dropped it at the initial shock of being lost. Lost, and to her heart, forgotten. And every person in that loud, smelly crowd were oblivious to her precious camera getting kicked around, to how their stomps ground the plastic and glass into powder, a crunching she could hear, even over her sobs.

The present crunch beneath her boots was more resonant, filling the space, but she'd learned how to do some ignoring herself as time went by. She didn't want to know what it was, she didn't bother to imagine what it was, same with the nearby scritching and distant growls, and she'd have told the Cage it could do better than that, but it would've been a waste of breath. It could, it would, and it did.

A lifetime ago, when she was maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, she'd gotten separated from her parents as they were all rushing to anywhere and everywhere, and she distinctly remembered the entirety of the incident, the entirety of the day when her life changed course The conviction she'd felt when she'd decided on the how and the when and the where, the apathetic manner in which she wrote and signed the note, and the curiosity, after, when she was hovering in the corner of her bedroom, hearing her father make some sort of inhuman sound as he dropped to his knees, the note falling with him. She watched the stoicism he'd carefully cultivated in himself as he'd grown older, grown bitter, fall away, too.

Then, later, the curiosity had persisted. She was still just out of sight, it seemed, since her sharp-eyed mother looked right through her on the repeated trips to and from the closet, fussing over what outfit was appropriate for the viewing, even though there couldn't be a viewing, which was obvious, which was why it was curious. And most curious of all was the last thing they did for her, a gesture she'd not seen the likes of in many years, one not afforded to her, certainly not to each other. She'd been standing in the shadow cast by the thick trunk of a tree, unnoticed, when they'd placed a small photograph atop her casket; not one of the three of them, she hadn't smiled in those for years. This was her favorite picture, and she hadn't thought they'd known.

It was the one-and-only she'd taken with her camera, en route to the subway and the promised ride to the most wonderful place she’d ever been. The photo was of a pigeon who'd been toddling along a brownstone's porch, caught just as it had begun to flap its wings, preparing for launch. It was off-center, and blurry, and messy, and perfect. The captured memory had been salvaged from the dropped camera, the film roll bruised but not broken, because in truth, they'd found her quickly that day. They'd scooped up the pieces, lifted her high off the ground, took her away from the chaos. She'd remembered this part far too late.

That was the most curious of all - the clarity. Some things couldn't have been helped, but plenty could've. No convoluted reasoning, no one thing on which to hang understanding; she'd reached her limit, the end. Walked out the door, straight to the subway, same line from the way-back-when, even, and kept a steady pace right off the edge. Pity no one can testify to those who remain about the crushing regret that kicks in approximately one second into taking the leap, how it invades the brain right when the point of no return arrives, how its friend clarity disappears the current, once-perfect plan, and the list of solutions to previously unsolvable things steps in to take its place.

She remembered the brief joy of the realization that the impossible just might be do-able, live-able, before she came to an abrupt halt. And she knew exactly what she would say if she could speak to those who remained: I thought you gave up on me. But that's not really why I left. I left because I gave up on me. That's the catch when it comes to the deals offered to folks in her position: you can only remember what you want to forget.

Because she knew this already, it was surprising that her custom-fit cage didn't. There was enough hazy illumination drifting about as she passed by the tracks for her to have seen the stopped but still-vibrating cars, though the Cage didn't bother with the screech of the brakes, or the onlookers' screams, none of the pounding footsteps of their escape, didn't even go the extra mile and splash around any blood. Like the last time she'd found herself in this spot, she paid no mind to what surrounded her, and her pace didn't slow, and she didn't falter as she went over the edge, but on this occasion she hopped, landed solidly on her feet, proceeded down the tunnel, even walked atop the rail for awhile, executed an occasional gymnast-worthy spin, until, she supposed, the Cage had given up trying to pitch its hopeless sale.

She’d already bought hopelessness once, kept the receipts, and returned it long, long ago.

The room where she found him had three walls, no door, she simply went from the tunnel’s uneven gravel to the smooth wood flooring of the strange diorama. It was here she opted to peek over her shoulder - this she had to see, if the Cage was actually going to have once last go, if it would, if it could, and it did, though the effort was half-hearted, so to speak; the wall that had appeared was easily punchable plaster. No chance she couldn't tear it down. And if what she'd been told was accurate, if she’d succeeded in navigating the maze, the exit - the real exit - would be right on the other side when it was time to leave. In her mind, that moment had arrived; as for him, she couldn't be sure. Stay long enough, even a tomb can start to seem like a home.

It wasn't dark, but it wasn't light. It wasn't loud, but it wasn't quiet. There was no torture, but there was no peace. It just was. Unnerving little nook, she'd freely admit it. And then there was its occupant: he was an unmoving figment, a breath away from being out of sight, the kind that would vanish in the time it took to blink.

She'd prepared her mind, practiced the how, done her homework on the when and the where, all the things one does when readying themselves for a difficult task, yet now that she'd pushed through to the end, when it was almost finished, she didn't have the first clue as to what to say. What do you say? There weren’t enough apologies, never could be, and who'd care? She was a stranger, and on purpose, just some a-hole on a holy mission. She wasn't anyone who owed remorse. She wasn't anyone who owed love. She was no one to him, no one at all.

"Hey, Adam..."

The retreat was halted. The weakened walls began to crumble. The soft smile she seldom showed made a one-night-only appearance as she extended a hand.

"...let's go take a ride."

See Nash Write : Master / See Nash Write : Mobile

🏷️🏷️Wanna be tagged? Hit me up! 🏷️🏷️

Author’s Note #2: This is actually a re-tooling of the initial draft of a scene for Revelation, and as long as the show doesn’t wreck it, something similar may turn up in the book.

Author’s Note #3: ETA - She/You can be whatever “thing” you want her to be. Truly. I’ve had a “plot bunny” for awhile now - related to supernatural stuff but not related to SPN, per se - that persons who die by their own hand---

----have been offered a chance at an afterlife wherein they can be something to someone, accomplish things they wanted to but couldn’t while alive, etc. So for me - and don’t let me stomp on your imagination! - I’d love it if these folks/souls were the angels of death (a.k.a. - Reapers).

Tag team, back again...

@impandagrl @castielhasthetardis @waywardjoy @jalove-wecallhimdean @jame-sbarnes @just-another-busy-fangirl @amanda-teaches @fanforfanatic @salt-n-burn-em-all @thisgingerlikescoffee @cyrilconnelly @rozadolphin @theblackharrystyles @carryonmycobaltangel @ilsawasanacrobat @klaineaholic @helvonasche @zepppie @amionthetumbler @tankcupcakes @littlegreenplasticsoldier @emlostinwonderland @michellethetvaddict @theoriginalvicki @ellen-reincarnated1967 @copperseraphim @mrswhozeewhatsis @crowleylovesyou @bumbleball13 @anticipate1003

#Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN Fanfic #Angst Appreciation Day 2018 #Nash Writes

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