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#like seeing into my depths and suddenly understanding that I am worthless and nothing but a grotesque caricature of a person
asterjennifer · 2 years
Note
Do you remember that VN on day 9 where Suit Saeran burst into our room to ask for a kiss, only for him to have a breakdown and Ray  suddenly emerged in the middle of that moment? My heart aches when I see both of them like that :'(
Perhaps you could write that scene with Ray's POV? His feelings, his reaction when he saw MC for the first time since his cleansing, maybe some of his thoughts when he calls MC for the last time before Suit Saeran comes back?
I'm just hungry for some heavy angst right now
🎀 Your wish is my command, princess~ 🎀
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© fizzypopcake on DeviantArt
Long Gone
Fandom: Mystic Messenger
Pairing: Ray & Reader
Category: Angst
Warnings: Breakdown, puke, self-harm, hallucinations, referenced child abuse
Word count: 2066
Author's Note: Of course I know the scene.. It's one of the most painful shit you can show me. I'll cry either way TT
Summary: (Based on: Ray Route Day 9)
He didn't mean it. He swears he didn't mean to let it end like this.
Hearing your voice on the other line's a reminder of both his happiness and pain.
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Cherish yourself...! He pleaded in his head, pounding against his skull, painful enough to tempt him to knock himself out by hitting it against the hard wall of his room until he's unconscious. You shouldn't stay here...! Ray sobbed out, both hands flying into his white hair, grabbing the strands with vigor.  
You couldn't have meant it, there's no way you meant it when proclaiming to stay here regardless. Despite his hands leaving marks on your skin, your body becoming weak due to the lack of sleep and food. You couldn't possibly be true when saying you wouldn't leave this place without him. He'd told you in a begging, desperate tone to just go since he's an abandoned personality either way. Ray panted out the shot of pain, crashing down into the voices mocking him somewhere in the depths.  
Didn't you care about yourself? Being well-groomed and caring before arriving, this could in no way even remotely be a habit for you. Not when looking healthy at first. Not when smiling so bright, filled with inexplicable energy the hacker struggled to understand to this day.   
Why did this happen? He prayed day and night you'll never meet Saeran. He hoped so intensely that things work out for once, if not for his happiness, then for your safety. Which's not just on the line anymore. He's aware it's all far beyond simple warnings and fears. He put you in danger. I am the danger, he thought bitter between all the whimpers caused by unbearable pain. It's like someone hit his head with a baseball bat, trying to crack the bones and force his brain apart. And yet, it's nothing in comparison to the horror he'd faced when returning.  
The mess he got you into's something he's unable to make up for ever again. He couldn't believe it at first. However, your thin face so pale without enough sleep spoke walls. Ray shook his head while tugging on the beached hair like it's going to stop if he just pulled it out. No.. no, no no no.. How did he end up being the one putting you through pain? When you're the first person in his worthless life who treated him with kindness. The angel that wouldn't hurt a fly, he couldn't take it.  
Why wasn't there a time where he’s capable of doing something right? Especially this situation. Especially treating the only person he felt warm around the same way. Instead he's got dragged into the abyss, unable to change anything in this world. Seeing your tear-stained face's one of the worse sights he'd seen in his life. Your smile's much brighter, much more beautiful when being happy about the smallest things.  
Why was he so weak? So useless he couldn't protect the person he'd come to cherish in these short moments? They never seemed to last, last time Ray looked you in the eye he ran away from the kiss. He couldn't do that right either, you must've been disappointed in him for acting like a coward. But that's all Ray was. A stupid, worthless coward.  
“Ngh..! Argh..” The strings of elixir hit him irregularly, almost knocking him over multiple times. The room spun as his stomach began to wretch in disgust. He needed to get you out of this place. You weren't meant to live here from the beginning. Ray knew, even if only subconsciously. Not changing a thing considering he could tell it's a bad idea. You belonged in the light, to the happy side of life.  
What was he thinking? Keeping you here because he's too weak without your warmth. He longed for your praise and comfort back then, how did he put your life on the line just to greedily take that from you? He should've let you live your life in peace, with people who made you feel good. Who properly cared for your well-being and made you laugh with funny jokes. Ray wheezed out the fever running down disguised as sweat, this black suit's much more uncomfortable than his magenta coat.   
How dare he acting arrogant to the point it's costing you health. Ray never wanted this to escalate, on the contrary, he wished to make your life a lot better in the future. Forget that wish... His clouded eyes scanned the pattern of the floor, his usual cool computer room a sauna he wanted to escape from. Forget ever thinking you could make her happy... Ray pressed his lips into a thin line because he's afraid to throw up by the imprecations. Had you ever been happy since arriving here?  
Now he saw, you're too good for him. Much more than he first suspected and he's ashamed for thinking about holding you close this brief time together. He didn't deserve it, not like this. Not when tormenting you although you've never done anything wrong. It's him who constantly messed up all the precious opportunities given regardless.
How could he come to the terms with the cruel reality where he made you shiver and cry? Where he scared and taunted you? How could Ray accept the fact he'd destroyed many parts of your light without any right? The traitor deserved it for tearing his family apart. The redhead deserved it for discharging him like he belonged in the trash underneath the earth. But not you. You were soft, comfortable, sweet, kind, charming, open, true.. You're everything Ray couldn't dream of becoming. Wanted to hold gently in his hands.
His prospects for a better future were long gone, he couldn't justify doing the exact same, cruel thing to you. He deserved the treatment of a disobedient dog but you're nothing like that. You deserved pretty clothes and good food. Ray's gut wrenched again, making him fall forward to his hands in agony. He's about to pass out when he could feel his pulse start to mix up with adrenaline to get him there quicker. He had to secure the escape route he shortly mentioned while stumbling over his own tears at the phone.
You called him after busting out of the room, asking if he's fine. Ray felt his heart break when realizing even though you're the victim and he's the culprit, you're still spilling with such big amount of kindness. Looking out for him when you're the one starved and tortured in that little room all day. He spit inside his own mind, how it would’ve been better if you'd never met him in the first place. How your life would've been great without a nuisance like him ruining it. Ray couldn't begin to describe how ashamed and sorry he was. But that's pointless.
You're hurt, apologizing wouldn't make any abuse undone. I hate you... He spoke to himself, to his other half? Ray wasn't any better than Saeran, they're simply bad in different ways. He was and always will be a pest for others around him. As his tears streamed down his cheeks, he gritted his teeth in pure anger. I hate you so much... He said again with as much venom he could muster in that unstable state.
He tore on his hair again, registering only half of the pain when tearing some out. A shame, really. He should've felt all the hurt like you'd done these past few days. Ray couldn't live with the memory of your attempts of soothing him, hushing his rage to take away the torment. You not once returned the pain to him, instead you took it all like that's just something to deal with. Like you were obligated to bear his presence. Ray ignored the blood running down alongside the tears and sweat.  
Bug.. dirt.. He cursed himself, scratching his other hand against the floor. The tips of his fingers slowly getting numb. Stupid, worthless idiot..!! Can't you see your existence is a waste of time!? Ray frowned by the words; they're not coming from himself. His fuzzy state made the furniture around the room turn into blurs of color. But even with that, he's able to make out who these shoes in front of his crouched body belonged to. An ice-cold shower ran down his back in panic.  
She kicked him in the chest, hearing his pathetic coughing. “You're better off dead!!”  The yelling lingered inside his ears hopelessly, having him gasp only to find his throat narrowed by the fear. “That's why your brother's so much better than you. You are too stupid!” She spat the words, knowing how they're making him cry harder.  
“The girl would've been happier in a prison than being with you..” Ray wrenched again, this time the contents made out of elixir and small meals landed on the floor. The smell rose into his nose, sickening the last few blank spaces inside his head. She kicked again and with her heels on, it stabbed like knifes through his skin. Another load of puking coming over his lips.  
Her voice's rough like he remembered, just as pissed off as well. That's not the first time she'd kicked him with such sharp shoes, it's not the first time she attacked the only things he considered good in his otherwise pathetic life. “You not only tire her like you do to me, you're worse to her!”  She screamed in furious manner. “Saeyoung would've been so much better for her.. than a good-for-nothing like you.”  
“Stop.. p-please..” He managed to choke out, of course she'd say that. But if it's the obvious truth, was it her fault for it to burn down his veins like a cold fire? “You're killing her.. And you kill my nerves as well! I should lock you back into the closet and let you stave for good this time..”  Ray could tell his heart's contracting by the threat. Another silent sob tore from his lunges.
She growled as he cried, seeing him do his best to stifle the sound the way he did in younger years. “Nothing but scum.. You think she ever liked you!? Are you stupid?” She asked in a mocking tone, seeing him press his forehead to the ground further away to avoid the puke. “You know why you're like this? Because you're worth nothing. You live like a bug and you will die like one.” Ray pressed his hands over his ears.  
But also then, she found her methods to reach inside. Please stop.. stop stop stop..! He wanted it to stop, to forget and pass out. She just continued, ignoring his begging skillfully. “You can't keep her and you can't do anything right. It's no wonder she waits for you to vanish!”
“SHUT UP–!” He screamed back for the first time at her, throwing his arm to lash out at whatever he's able to hit. The nerves slammed the edge of the chair which forced him to hiss out. A sharp intake of air filled the walls, his bright eyes snapping back open. The sweat let his hair stick to his forehead, even after trying to brush through it.  
Another hiss as he came in contact with the wound that moron just make. Saeran groaned, about to wrench once again because of the disgusting smell in front of him. He looked around, yet there's no soul to be detected. For a moment he sighed, letting his body find the calm to relax. This is your fault! He swallowed the bitter taste that etched his tongue. Closing his eyes afterwards.   
Saeran clenched a fist by the boiled-up blood running through his arms, tightening the strength with which he held the fists to the floor. Idiot Ray... He thought annoyed. Great. Now he looked like the clown, must've pleased you, didn't it. Letting a long-time pass, he's steady enough on his feet. Saeran brushed his suit right. Trying to fix at least a bit of the chaos. “Shower..” 
He mumbled, unable to shake the shiver of madness. How dare you tricking him like he's the plaything. He'd make you pay for embarrassing him like this, like he's the weakling you wanted to have back so badly. Saeran snapped his head towards the phone on the table by the buzz, seeing you opened a chatroom. Addressing him with name as if nothing happened. His frown twisted by all these conflicting feelings, so he figured he's going to make you regret testing him right this instant.
“Saeran... ”  
“What have you done to me!? ”  
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dracowars · 3 years
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can i request an imagine im so sorry if it’s too long for your liking but could it be a pureblood slytherin reader x draco imagine where the reader and draco are dating but after some bad news from home (maybe she doesn’t have the kindest parents like draco) she distances herself from everyone and keeps zoning out and finds herself astronomy tower thinking really dark thoughts but draco has constantly been watching over her and is super worried and maybe they have an argument at the tower and draco gets stupid and says something mean or even is dumb to think to accuse her of cheating at the end in which the reader maybe either slaps him (for dramatic effect) or if that’s too much she just says it’s over between the two and she walks off and draco is shocked and tries to stop the reader but she’s already gone and she doesn’t show up to breakfast or lunch and maybe in their class they learn about the boggart again and since they’re older their fears have changed and maybe the reader isn’t paying attention and she’s brought up to test her boggart and it’s draco saying those same things and maybe her parents come out as well and it’s essentially that draco’s unkind words are her fear because it’s the last straw for her until everything breaks because she was holding onto him and she runs out of class and class is dismissed because no one wants to go after that and the reader skips dinner and can be found in moaning myrtles bathroom having a panic attack and she gets really frustrated and hits the the sink really hard to feel something and you can hear myrtle begging the reader to stop and maybe someone sees her and runs to draco to get help but draco runs to the bathroom she’s not there anymore and he finds her at the astronomy tower feeling numb and he overhears her talking to herself and it ends in fluff because he can’t lose her and he figures out it’s probably her parents pressuring her too much again and he can relate because of his and they get back together and it’s just really fluffy at the end maybe they sneak in the kitchen for a quick minute dinner since the reader didn’t eat and draco has to be really kind to the elves heheh
darkness | draco malfoy
pairing: draco x slytherin!reader
word count: 3,1k
summary: where y/n's parents make her life a living hell and draco doesn't really help
a/n: normally i do not write about things like this but i actually really liked the request so i wrote it anyway. i don't mean to offend anyone with this if i misrepresented something, i did my best to get familiar with the topic <3
warnings: angst, major mental health issues including dark thoughts and self-doubt, hints of su*c*de, mentions of blood, cursing, very sensitive topics in general
universe: harry potter
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The cold wind blows through your hair and makes it swirl around the air and into your face, goosebumps spreading all over your body at the sudden coldness. To prevent your hair from flying around, you tame your hair with a hair tie, your gaze fixed straight ahead while your face is illuminated by the setting sun.
You really missed this place during the holidays. The astronomy tower.
Whenever you are stressed from doing a lot of homework or studying in general, this is the place you can hust go to and are somehow always able to relax. The view is breathtaking and you love to watch the sun - or the moon, depening on what time of the day you find yourself up here - shine.
And this special place also gives you the security that you so urgently needed.
The winter holidays were a living hell for you. You have extremely strict parents who see a great importance in your education, but that is basically the only thing that interests them about you. That you bring honor to your pureblood family. That they can proudly show you off to other pureblood families even though they know nothing about you and who you really are.
Until recently they did not even know that you are in a relationship. Unfortunately, one thing led to another and they found it out by an unlucky coincidence which consisted of them picking you up at platform 9¾ for the very first time since you have been at Hogwarts. There they saw you with a platinum haired boy, kissing.
This boy turned out to be Draco Malfoy, the son of the pureblood Malfoy family, who you parents cannot stand at all. To put it in other words, they loathe each other to death and that for probably no reason, at least you have not been able to figure it out yet.
So of course they were not very thrilled that you are in a relationship with a Malfoy, which they showed you straight away. They locked you inside of your room at home because you had to 'think about your actions and their consequences'.
However, when they realized that their behavior would not change anything, they began to put you down. They threw the worst swear words at you, wanted to force you to break up with him and told you what a terrible shame you are for your family. That Draco could never love you and that you are ugly, cheap and overall useless. That is how it went on for your whole vacation.
Your parents always treated you this way, it was not new to you. Nevertheless it hurts every time, even if you try to hide it. You would rather keep all the pain inside of you than to tell others about it, because they are not able to help you anyway. Unfortunately, you did the math without your boyfriend.
This morning at the Central Station of London, Draco immediately saw that you were not feeling well. Any attempts to get you to tell him what is going on with you had been useless though so he left you alone at some point, but you still noticed how he kept staring at you for the whole train ride to Hogwarts.
You would love to tell him, tell him about everything, but something inside of you is stopping you from doing so. An invisible barrier inside of your head, probably fear, that you simply cannot overcome. You know that Draco's parents are pretty similar to yours, but still you just cannot manage to talk to him and you notice how it slowly but surely destroys your deep bond with one another.
Continuing to look into the distance and watch the clouds encircle the beautiful setting sun, which colors the sky in reddish colors, your thoughts suddenly wander to gloomy places. Dark places where you usually only go to when you are locked inside of your own room at home.
But now they are even attacking you at your safest place.
You perfectly know yourself that you are not good enough for Draco. You do not deserve this incredibly great person as your boyfriend. You do not even deserve him as a best friend, no, you do not deserve him at all. You are worthless and for him you are nothing more than one girl out of many.
And still you keep on being selfish and do not end it.
Completely lost in your own dark thoughts, you do not even notice at first how the tears are already streaming down your cheeks like waterfalls. Sniffling, you rub your eyes, smeer your discreetly applied mascara, and wipe the tears from your face.
"Why am I still doing this to myself?", you sob and lower your head, looking deep down at the grounds of Hogwarts. The tears that are enriched with pain flow out of your eyes and fall into the dark depths, causing you to slowly close your eyes.
The sudden mention of your name from behind you makes you abruptly breathe out in shock and your head jumps up as you turn around. Your eyes lock with the gray, sparkling eyes of your boyfriend, who is currently looking at you with pity.
"W-What are you doing here, Draco?", you sniff and wrap your arms around your body in an attempt to hide from him so he does not have to look at you.
"Why are you crying?", he asks, ignoring your question, and before you can realize, he is already standing right in front of you and gently places his hands on your tear stained, puffy cheeks. Gently wiping away your tears with his thumb, he searches your eyes for answers that can explain your current terrible condition. He cannot bear to see you like this, so fragile and deeply hurt.
Whatever happened, he will make sure you know that he is and always will be here for you. And he will not let, whatever it is, continue to hurt you so badly.
"If you do not tell me, then I cannot help you", he softly whispers and brushes the strands of hair behind your ear that have escaped from your ponytail in the wind and then carefully lifts your head so you have to look him in the eyes.
"It's nothing", are the only words you get out, your throat thightening, but all you would like to do is to just finally tell him about everything.
"Do you even realize how worried I am about you, Y/N?! It is killing me!", Draco suddenly raises his voice at you, causing you to flinch and take a step back, your back now touching the railing. Noticing the power of his words, he sighs and looks to the ground in shame.
Your head processes his facial expression and his gestures and again makes you believe that his sadness is your fault. By not being able to control your stupid feelings, you hurt him.
"I-I really have to go", you stutter out and quickly run past him, pressing your coat around your body.
"Have fun with Blaise then", you hear him say and you abruptly stop in your motion. Not fully understanding the words he just said, you turn to him.
"What?", you ask with not more than a breath coming out, hurt evident in your expression as he suddenly stomps in your direction furiously, a disgusted look on his face while he looks into your eyes.
"Don't act stupid now, Y/N! You hardly speak a word to me anymore, you avoid body contact, you are totally dismissive in general and you can't even look at me anymore! Why do you not just admit that you are cheating on me?!", Draco accuses you out of nowhere, not knowing what he is even saying himself, and you could swear that at this very moment your heart has finally burst into a thousand splinters and your last hold has now completely disappeared.
Losing the control over your body for a second, your hand lands on his cheek with full force. There is a dead silence before you just turn and leave, leaving him behind on the astronomy tower. You can hear him say your name after you, but you block it out and run down the stairs, crying, your vision blurred.
Missing one of the last stairs in your hurry, you fall down onto the cold floor. You get up again as quickly as possible when you hear steps behind you and you run. You run for your life while you disappear into the endless corridors of Hogwarts, making your way to your dorm.
The next morning your eyelids stick together from all the crying and you have a aching headache. You did not close one eye that night and just laid there crying in your bed silently until at some point there were no more tears.
In front of the door of your prefect dorm room, you can hear how the other students are leaving your house on their way to breakfast, but your stomach makes a flip when you only think about food. That is the reason why you decide to stay in your warm, safe and comfortable bed a little longer and to skip breakfast, which is unnecessary anyway. Avoiding other people seems like the best idea for you right now.
Just in time for the beginning of your first lesson of the long day, you made it out of your bed and are now sitting in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape.
Your thoughts are whirling around in your head and you do not understand a single word Snape is saying in front of the class, even if you are really trying your best to understand him. Furthermore does it not help your concentration that you see how Draco keeps staring at you from across the room out of the corner of your eye. However, you do not have enough strength for this anymore after a while and therefore focus your gaze out the window at the rising sun.
At least you are distracted until all of the students get up from their seats all of a sudden and you only watch them confused until you notice that they are only waiting for you to join them and you quickly walk, almost stumbling, to them. Ignoring the looks and laughter of everyone, you play around with the hem of your grey Slytherin sweater and ignore them while doing so.
"Well then, let us begin. Ms. Y/L/N, would you please do us the honor and start", Snape clears his throat as you look at him in shock, noticing by the expression on his face that he definetely knows that you did not listen to him at all and have not been present with your mind.
Since you do not have a chance to defy yourself anyway, you nod and go to the position he points at in front of an old, dusty closet. With confusion all over your face, you switch between looking at Professor Snape and the cabinet as he suddenly opens the door and you take a big step back, startled to death.
"Have fun with Blaise then", Draco spits in your face disparagingly and is now slowly walking towards you after stepping out of the cupboard, increasing your pulse. The tears find their way back into your eyes right away while you just keep looking at him petrified, frozen in your spot.
"Why do you not just admit that you are cheating on me?!", he yells at you again and your vision becomes more and more blurred, your ears start to beep while he shouts at you, bringing back the painful memories of yesterday.
"No! Please don't leave me, Draco!"
It is like you are back on the astronomy tower again, your hair blowing in the wind as he steps towards you. In the next moment he is gone all of a sudden and instead of him, two other people are now in front of you.
"You are a shame for our whole family, you stupid brat", your father insults you and you fall onto your knees, holding your hands against your head in pain.
"Stop it! Please!", you beg them, but of course they do not stop, they only make their words worse.
"Draco can never seriously love someone like you. I mean, look at you! You are less worthy than dirt", your father tells you and your entire body is now trembling when you finally see a black cloak in front of your eyes and your parents vanish into thin air.
"Please stay with me", you choke through your tears, words addressed to Draco who had to watch the scene in front of him with pure horror in his eyes.
Breathing heavily, you look up at Professor Snape, who looks at you in disbelief, but as your eyes wander around the room to see everyone staring at you, your legs automatically carry you out of the classroom in the next moment, unable to bear their burning glances.
You run down the empty corridor with a faint vision in search of a safe place to hide until you arrive at one of the girls' bathrooms and rush in, not thinking about someone possibly being in there.
Slamming the door shut behind you, you stumble to the sinks with trembling knees and support all of your weight with your hands on either side of one sink as your legs fail beneath you. Clinging to the edge of the sink, you cry bitterly. The cold walls of the bathroom echo your crying several times, allowing you to hear your own pain.
"What is wrong, Y/N?", you hear a soft voice next to your ear and when you look up it is none other than Myrtle. Apparently of all places you ended up in her bathroom and are not as alone as you wished for.
"I am fine", you say with a monotonous voice, forcing yourself into an upright position, but literally everyone would see that you are definetely not fine, even a ghost.
"Y/N. You look anything but okay. Can I somehow help you-"
"Just leave me alone!", you angrily yell at her and lose control of your body, only seeing a thick, red substance running over your hand when it is already too late. Broken pieces of glass lie around you on the floor, which flew through the air when your fist hit them and inflicted small wounds on your face.
"You need to stop, Y/N!", Myrtle commands, but you do not listen and let yourself fall onto the floor, kicking your foot against the sink and thereby unintentionally loosen one of the old pipes. The sound of flowing water fills the room, surrounding your body on the floor.
On the edge of passing out, you lie in the cold water and stare at the ceiling while Myrtle has disappeared without a trace.
What you do not know, however, is that Myrtle is already on her way to find help and comes across Draco, who is running back and forth through the hallways while searching for you.
It takes Draco a moment to understand Myrtle's fast explanation, but when he does he runs into the direction of the girls' bathroom without hesitation. He rushes through the door into the flooded bathroom and all he sees is the broken mirror and the slightly reddish puddles in the water.
But he does not find you in there and realizes that there can only be one place where you could be.
Walking through the corridors of Hogwarts at lightning speed, he finally reaches the staircase leading to the astronomy tower and goes them up in no time. Once he arrives at the top, he abruptly stops when you come into his field of vision.
There you are, completely broken, leaning your head against the railing, your knees closely drawn to your body while your painful crys echo through his ears.
"Why did you not listen to your parents, you disgusting piece of daughter", you talk to yourself, not noticing that you are not alone any longer. With your already injured hand you hit the pole of the railing once, immediately regretting it as the pain spreads through your body.
However, your gaze lands on a person standing directly ahead and your eyes widen, but unfortunately you lack the strength to stand up, to yell at him, or to resist as he slowly sits down next to you.
Neither of you say a word, but it does not take long before he gently takes you into his strong arms, providing you with the support you needed so badly, so you can cry while he strokes over your hair. He whispers repentances in your ear over and over again. That he regrets his words, that he takes them back and that he was such an idiot.
"You are so wonderful", he confirms and gives you a kiss on the forhead, careful not to scare you away, continuing to stroke your upper arm with his hand.
"Do not believe in what your parents told you, angel. I will stay with you", he shakily breathes and has to pull himself together to not let a tear slip out of his eyes at any moment. "I am sorry that I let you down."
His last few words pull a trigger inside of your head and suddenly everything pours out of your mouth at once. Your fears, your worries. Everything your parents ever said or did to you. You finally tell him about all of it now, even though you should have done it much earlier.
"I love you more than anything, Y/N. You are my world and the reason I live. Never let anyone make you think that I do not love or deserve you, especially not your parents", Draco explains to you sincerely as you stare at him, exhausted but happy.
You slowly put your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, letting the good and bright drown out all of your dark and bad thoughts. Meanwhile, Draco carefully examines your injured hand before scooping you up into his arms while standing up.
"No matter how much you hate me right now, you have to eat something", he tells you, but you do not answer and just enjoy his close presence while you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, letting him carry you away.
If he had known how terrible you were feeling earlier, he would have done something much sooner. He should have been more pushy and not let you get away with a simple 'i am fine'. But now that he knows, he definetely learned from it.
And Draco would have never forgiven himself if he had let you just go like that.
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linkspooky · 4 years
Text
A Mafia Member Who Doesn’t Kill
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Bungou Stray Dogs chapter 88 has made it clear to me just how strong the Akutagawa and Odasaku parallels are. They are both orphans, raised to kill and taught their only value is the strength of their abilities that they use for killing, only to slowly unlearn that behavior over time. They are both characters who value life above everything else. I’m going to explore the connection more in depth, under the cut.
1. Origins
The temptation might be to parallel Oda to Atsushi, and Akutagawa to Dazai. Not only is Akutagawa Dazai’s first and direct disciple, and currently wearing his coat, but Atsushi has always been “the good one” of the pairing. The one obsessed with being good, and saving people in the way Oda was. Oda is also the closest thing Bungou Stray Dogs has to an example of living the life of “a good man” that all the main characters are currently striving for. However, I would say that it’s Akutagawa who parallels Oda’s life far more than Atsushi. 
Of course Akutagawa parallels Dazai’s life quite a lot as well.He was recruited by Dazai the same way Dazai was recruited by Mori,wears Dazai’s jacket as his most precious possession, but he shares so much in common with Oda too including his origin. 
In their youth they’re both referred to as killers who kill without showing any emotion. They start out completely empty and dead to all feelings inside, because neither of them have experienced anything to give them a reason to value life. 
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Fukuzawa suddenly recalled a rumor he had heard about a young redheaded hit man who wielded two pistols, and killed his targets while never showing any emotions. - BSD LN 3
They both kill because they’re strong, and that’s all they’re seen as. Both boys, orphans with nothing else to live for have been gifted with incredibly strong abilities. They kill, they don’t relish in it, they don’t gain anything from it unlike men in positions of power like Mori Ougai because they are ultimately tools, but they kill nonetheless. 
“I’ve been working alone as an assassin for as long as I can remember,” he began. “I’ve never wanted friends or a boss... but seeing a martial artist like you compromise your principles to save one of your men... It makes me kinda jealous. He must be the happiest guy in the world to have you as a boss.” - BSD LN 3
They both start killing as a means of survival, because they are both orphans who have no one to care for them and look out for them. However, they also slowly over time begin to kill as a way to demonstrate their worth. Akutagawa was an orphan who lost the small amount of friends he was protecting, Oda had no organization he was working for, no connections their lives are utterly empty except for their strength so they come to understand killing as something that gives their life meaning and value. If only because there is nothing else for them. 
However, for both of them killing isn’t enough. It’s merely surviving not living. Which is why no matter how strong they become they both remain empty, and they both feel insufficient, and even jealous of others. Oda is jealous of Fuzukawa’s connection to his subordinate, Akutagawa is jealous of Atsushi who is valued and connected to everyone around him and treated better by Dazai. This jealousy is also a realization that they are missing something in themselves but they don’t know what. 
Most skilled hitmen looked down on others as if they were insects. Their eyes were cold and lacked compassion. But this boy’s were different. They weren’t cold or any temperature. They were just empty. Not only was there no compassion or kindness, there was no hate or passion to kill. His eyes were those of a person who had given up on hope and despair - the eyes of a person who had removed himself from emotional things. - BSD LN 3
Both Akutagawa and Oda start at a point where they are killing, not because they enjoy it, or they’re particularly sadistic, or think they are just or right. They kill because it’s the only thing they’re good at. They kill to demonstrate worth. 
This kid’s different from the old me. Perhaps he never felt any joy from killing others. He was probably only killing because he had nothing to do. - BSD LN3
This also plays into a fundamental misunderstanding that Atsushi has of Akutagawa. He basically views Akutagawa as a bully who kills people to flaunt his strength in front of others. 
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He doesn’t realize that Akutagawa is strong yes, but that’s all he is. He clings to that strength, because he’s been given no other alternative. He hasn’t been given nearly the opportunities that Atsushi has. If there is a difference between Oda and Akutagawa, Akutagawa is noticably angrier, more resentful, but that’s because anger is the first emotion he ever definitely felt. 
I feel hatred.  I am no longer a dog. I have become a human being with feelings of my own. -’A Heartless Dog’
Akutagawa and Oda are both boys who lived considerably empty lives, that is until they meet somebody who shows them an alternative and changes their lives forever. Oda and Akutagawa meet someone and from then on they want to find meaning in their lives. 
2. An Assassin Who Doesn’t Kill
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Akutagawa kills without hesitance, and yet I would say he’s the only character in the manga who values life as much as Oda does. This might seem like a paradox but both of their characters are built around this paradox. That’s why they become mafia members who do not kill. 
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Akutagawa’s response to the old man in the latest chapter seems sassy, but Akutagawa’s never sassy, he’s overly serious and sincere about everything. He’s saying what he really thinks. All people are equally alive. Akutagawa is someone especially aware of the value of life, because in the past his life was treated as something so worthless. 
He was not afraid to die. He was thinking perhaps even hell would be a better place to live then here. JJust continuing to live in this state was suffering, after all. 
[...]
What’s the point of our lives? He had once asked travelers in their place this equestion. Why Must I go on living?
It’s because they have both lived through the absolute worst circumstances, that they value life more, and go on searching for these answers. Akutagawa equally treats life as worthless (kills people without hesitation) and also values life (tries to give people a reason to live, tries to justify his own life, tries to fight against the idea that someone from the slums lives a meaningless life). 
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When Kyouka finds a reason to live even though he’s not the one that gave it to her, he’s genuinely happy for her. Because Akutagawa values life, and wants people to find a meaning in life even though he kills. 
Akutagawa is currently on the same path Oda is on. The lines in this scene are vague because they’re meant to apply to both Dazai and Akutagawa. He met a certain person, joined a certain organization, and the hope for death in his eyes vanished. 
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Oda gave Dazai reason. Dazai gave Akutagawa reason. Oda was also given reason when he met Natsume. All three continue on with a life of empty killing until an outside force intervenes and teaches them there could be something more to life. 
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They both come across someone who tells them that there is more to life than just killing. That they are capable of more than that, and they actually follow through and stop killing. Because, Akutagawa, and Oda deep down respect life. As cruel and heartless as they can be, Akutagawa is also one of the most heartfelt and respectful characters in the series when he opens up. 
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Akutagawa and Oda are people who understand other people on a level deep down, because they’re genuinely interested in the lives of others. Akutagawa is the only person who thinks about Atushi in a deep way, in ways Atusshi doesn’t even really want to understand himself. Oda is the first person to treat Dazai like a person, behind the genius. They understand, even the ugly parts of people because they don’t really look away from the dark parts of the world, of life, because no one’s experienced life’s cruelty like they have. Oda sees Dazai for who he is, and tells him that helping people probably won’t make him feel good, and that he’ll never feel good, but he should help people anyway because he’s capable of doing good. 
Oda is the one who started the journey in an assassin trying to find meaning in life, but he didn’t finish it. In the end Oda’s character arc ends tragically, and his path is half finished. Because, Oda eventually chooses death. 
I think a lot of people don’t realize this character flaw of Oda, because he’s usually such a good example, but he chose to kill again, chose to become a martyr to Dazai because he genuinely gave up on living when it became too hard for him again. 
“Odasaku...” Dazai said softly. “Forgive me for the absurd wording, but - don’t go. Find something to rely on. Expect good things to happen from here on out. There’s gotta be something...” - BSD, Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era
Oda died because of tragic circumstances yes, but Oda also dies because he chose death. He chose the escape. He chose the easier path. There were still people that needed him even after he lost the orphans, people like Dazai, and Akutagawa who were orphans in need of help as well and Oda chose to let go of them. 
Oda gave up on his attempt to find meaning in life, because the best way to find meaning in life is simply by living it. 
‘People live to say themselves, it’s something they realize right before they die, eh?’ - BSD, Osasmu Dazai and the Dark Era
Oda chooses to die for the sake of someone else, rather than living for himself. While that’s a tragic choice it’s also a bad choice with consequences, because now there’s nobody around to help Dazai and Akutagawa who also appeared in light novel two and who both needed him to some extent. 
In that sense Akutagawa can be stronger than Oda. Their lives are parallels but they’re also exact opposites. Akutagawa starts out by losing every orphan he was trying to take care of. Oda finishes his life when he loses the orphans who he was trying to raise and protect. 
The choice they make in those moemnts is the opposite ones. Akutagawa tries to choose simply revenge at first the exact same way as Oda did, but when he meets Dazai he realizes there was something he wanted even more than revenge. 
The question resounded in Akutagawa’s heart, and a single answer floated to the surface. Something he qished for. His heart’s desire.  The lowest of the low. In a world that was the lowest of the low, it was a wih that could never possibly be granted.  Akuagawa had to force the words out of his dry, trembling throat. “I want to find a reason... a meaning to my life.” - SHORT STORY A HEARTLESS DOG
Akutagawa wants to live for himself, stronger than even Oda did. Whereas, Oda stops wanting everything. 
Dazai paused before continuing. “I would be able to find something - a reason to live.” 
I looked at him; he looked back at me. 
“I wanted to be a novelist.” I said. “I thought I wouldn’t deserve such a life if I killed someone during a mission. That’s why I never killed anyone. But that’s all in the past. There’s only one thing I want now.” - BSD VOLUME 2, Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era
Oda’s words to Dazai to conitnue to live are meaningful, but he’s also a hypocrite to those words. He tells Dazai to live on, when he made the choice to go off and die. While, Akutagawa as dirty, and arduous as his path is, is the one who keeps struggling to live no matter what like a stray dog starving in the streets.
Which is why Akutagawa is the one who is going to finish what Oda started so long ago, and be the true inheritor to his will. Utlimately, I predict, that’s the path his character development and arc are going to take him. 
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Sink then float (Poe Dameron x GN reader)
Summary: Poe comes back from a mission to find that reader is experiencing a depressive episode, and he does what he can to take care of them while they’re sick. Hurt / comfort. Angst / slight fluff.
Author’s note: Was feeling super crappy at the start of the week (I’m ok now!) and this angst-bomb came out of me. Pleased to have finally written something, though it tackles a tough topic. I’ve tried to be as sensitive as possible while writing about depression, and while it’s something I have experienced in the past, of course it manifests differently for everyone. I have drawn on some personal experience to write this, but it is a fic. Therefore, it is necessarily outside of my direct experience, which opens up the possibility I may have gotten something wrong. Therefore, if you think there’s anything I’ve handled in a way that is harmful (even honest mistakes can be mistakes) I’m happy for you to send me an ask outlining this so I can correct and do better.
Warnings: It deals with reader in a depressive episode, and it is from reader’s POV. As such, it is pretty angsty, ngl, as reader’s thought process is in a bad place. The piece grows more hopeful as it progresses, and ends on a hopeful note, however it may still be difficult reading. I’ve actively tried to acknowledge in the text where reader’s thought-process is skewed by being sick e.g. when they say they are worthless, I’ve tried to directly counter this as it’s not objectively true. The last thing I want is for anyone to feel worse reading this, so I’ve tried not to validate reader’s most difficult thoughts (though what they’re going through is valid and it is valid for reader to be experiencing those thoughts)! That said, please take care when reading, as some of the feelings and thoughts set out may be triggering. Also, whilst there is no direct mention or suicidal thoughts or ideation, I am also warning for that, as there is some crossover in thought patterns. Ultimately, this is a fic about Poe being there to comfort reader, but reader finding that shred of hope inside themseleves, amidst feelings of hopelessness. I didn’t want to suggest that Poe could “fix” reader, so yes, they are still depressed at the end, but more comforted and hopeful than at the start. Sorry for all the warnings, but I wanted to be clear so you can make an informed decision on whether to read. Please stay safe!
GIF by @twillight​. Yowzers, it’s PRETTY AF.
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There’s no poetry any more.
There are only syllables. Vowels like an orange in your mouth. Consonants rattling between your teeth. You speak only of sleep. Your words hollow like a worn, sprung mattress; inviting rest but offering no comfort.
Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.
There is no art any more.
Not even in a thousand burning suns. Not even as you tip your face up to the milky black. Not even in his face; that face you love. You look, and you feel numb.
Numb. Numb. 
No music.
Birds sing. It’s just noise, ringing in the hollow of your body.
Noise. 
You want to sleep. It is all you want, and you merely want it because you want nothing else.
No dance in your body. No motion; only stillness.
No fight left in you...
What is left, then?
Nothing?
Nothing left.
Yes.
Nothing but the robust pang of hunger.
Nothing but the parching thirst.
Nothing but this weight on your chest, pressing you to the bed.
Nothing but the refresher door taunting you because you can’t cross the chasm in five steps.
Nothing but the guilt and self-hatred, and false, invasive belief that you are worthless.
Guilt because you...
Can’t.
So much then? So much where there is “nothing”?
You are simply so full of empty that it has pushed everything good down. It has pushed you down until you are sunken. Until you are yelling at yourself from below water, sound muted.
Everything muted.
Colours. Feelings. Life. Love.
Worst of all, your love will be home soon.
Home and sleep is all you...
Home and you haven’t even...
You almost think about ...
You sigh.
You can’t.
You can’t complete the...
You feel nothing, and yet guilty tears fall to the pillow. A part of you understands you are not to blame for being sick, and still, there is this guilt.
You have him. 
Poe. Poe. Poe.
So, shouldn’t you be happy?
Why can’t you be happy?
Love shakes the inside of your chest, rattling against the bars of your ribs and wanting to be known. Reminding you of what you lack. It hurts. Everything hurts when it flexes, even love. Especially love. It flexes and it feels only restriction. It feels only weight on its chest. Such pain.
He will be home soon.
You love him. You know this, intellectually. And yet, you don’t want to see him. Don’t want think of him. Because you don’t want to be seen by him.
Not like this.
You don’t want to let him down. You don’t want to break his heart by meeting his loving gaze so hollow. As if he is not sunshine. As if he is not a thousand suns blazing; and yet, instead of poetry and art and music in your heart when you think of him, there are mere syllables, images, noise. There are those vowels again, large like an orange in your mouth, consonants rattling in between your teeth as you cry muffled sounds into the pillow.
He’ll be home soon. You don’t know how soon. You don’t know how long you have layed like this.
Still, all you can do is lie empty, where the room brims with mess and misery and shadow.
All you can do is lie in this empty room, where you brim full with sorrow.
It is enough. This is enough. You are enough, though you can’t see it.
And so, because you can’t see it, can’t feel it, you bring your hands to your face, despairing. Your fingers find your hair, and it’s dirty.
You just want to sleep. You want to tug the covers back over your head and disappear but..
There is a rap at the door.
He’s home now.
A soft knock, then inistent.
He’s back.
After a week apart he’ll be so...
...disappointed to see you. At least, that’s what you mind is telling you to believe.
You turn away and close your eyes as he pushes through into the dark room. You cannot look at his sunshine. It is too bright, like the round circle of sun at the mouth of a deep well. You cannot look, so your eyes scrunch closed as he flicks on a lamp, and you hear his feet deftly pick through the mess on your floor.
You try not to look.
You try not to hear.
You try not to exist.
How can feeling nothing still hurt? How can you wish to feel even less than this, just to blunt your pain?
Still, you do feel something. You feel his sturdy weight settle on to the bed beside you.
You do hear. You hear him sigh.
Yes, he sighs, but it’s gentle, concerned, and his hand finds your shoulder, his touch like warm sand on your cold, goosepimpled skin. Rough and full of sunshine.That blessed sunshine you cannot -at the present moment-comprehend.
“Honey?” he asks, and you hear his voice, soft and tender. You hear his love, but you can’t feel it. No, you can’t.
His voice should ignite you. There should be blood moving beneath your skin but...
There is nothing. There is nothing in your mouth. Nothing but bones in your body.
“Honey, look at me, please?”
You peel your eyes open, bracing yourself for the disappointment you expect to find carved into his face. His eyes examine you, assess you, eyes flitting around the room to understand how bad things are. The state of you, the state of the room. The half-filled bottle of meds at your bedside- at least you’ve been keeping those up. That’s something. Something where you would insist there is nothing.
That look. That look in your eyes, your pupils like bleak, empty wells he tips his sunlight into, and yet he can’t reach the depths of you. Can’t warm all the way through, even as his eyes brim with tears and love.
He doesn’t look surprised, at least. He ran into one of the others first, then; Leia or Finn or Rey. They warned him. Warned him that you are worthless, a burden. No, you are not those things, you try to remember. They will have warned him that you are sick.
Suddenly, looking at him, you have words.
“I’m sorry,” you croak, your mouth as dry as sandpaper. 
“Why in the hell are you sorry, baby?” he asks gently, surprised now, his eyes searching yours. How does he do that? How does he look at you as if you are beautiful, even like this? Perhaps you are beautiful, even like this. Yes, you are. He sees it when you can’t.
“Because I...” you look away from him and sigh, even these simple words taxing your energy,”...couldn’t....”
Couldn’t get out of bed.
Couldn’t want to.
Couldn’t be happy when he came home.
Couldn’t want to.
Poe doesn’t judge you though. Not for this.
He’s Poe. Of course he doesn’t. Poe knows that people are not to be judged on such blameless matters. People are not the sum of their illnesses and struggles. You are so much more to him. You are everything to him, in fact.
He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. Always will. That doesn’t change when you’re sick. Why would it? Why would it?
“You did just fine, honey,” he insists through a thin, watery smile. “I’m still proud of you. I’m still glad to see you.”
You look at him.
He looks back.
You know you should feel poetry in it, like all the other times he’s come home. When your skin and your heart and your breath and your words and your lips were alive. When your body danced with his. 
“It’s bad this time?” he asks. “Like before?”
“I guess,” you croak.
You hate yourself. You hate yourself even though you dont deserve that hate for a second. You hate yourself for what you believe Poe must think of you, but you try to remember that your brain lies, and that Poe tells the truth. You try to remember everything he tells you over and over. You try to remember hope. Rebellions are built on hope, after all, and you? You are a Rebel; therefore, you know you must fight this too. A small, vanishing part of you knows that you can fight it, even if a louder voice in your head tells you you can’t. A voice with bad intentions. This sickness.
Still, you always promise Poe you’ll try. You always try. Have been trying. Even the refresher door becomes something that taunts you, a chasm between you and it as you try to make it there. You always try. Regardless, Poe’s always proud of you.
“Can I hold you?” he asks, his warmth and his unsurpassed beauty evident to you even now, even if it you cannot muster any ready response to it.
You shake your head.
“I’m disgusting.”
“Kriff, me too,” he says, his tone natural and easy, and refusing to shrink away from your pain- from the temporarary reality of you, as some do. “Came straight here. Five days on a mission without a shower? We can stink together,” he adds, with a tentative, lopsided smile, hoping to tease one from you too.
Poe has no trouble being hopeful, where that has never come easily to you.
Still, he’s here. He’s here at your side, all warm, sandy voice and his soft, loving eyes. Even if you had been convinced he would never come back. He is here. His rough hand is swooping over your cheek. Caring for you, even though he must be so tired himself.
Your eyes grow watery and your lower lip trembles. “I should be caring for you, you shouldn’t have to come back to me like this, after fighting...”
“Hey,” he protests, his voice hushed but his tone insistent. “You’ve been fighting too, baby. We both got our missions, yeah? If you ask me, I think you got the raw end of the deal.”
He’s perfect. He’s so perfect. You will the blood to move under your skin. You will your heart to ignite, but there’s nothing.
Correction; there’s nothing yet. It will come. It will get better.
Poe’s voice and eyes soothe you as you contemplate this. “There’s nowhere else I wanna be. I just wanna hold you. Okay, baby? Missed your beautiful face. Missed you so much. I’m kriffin’ lucky to come back to you.” 
Missed your smile, he might have said. You missed it too. Misplaced it.
Forgot how to...
Your thought-spiral is interupted as Poe shifts slowly on the bed, and he curls his warm, sturdy body around yours, holding his beloved little spoon tightly.
He’s wrapped around you, but you wish you could feel him.
Still, as his arms wind around you to tug you into him, you clasp his forearms tightly against your chest. A part of you knows. A part of you feels. You know how important this is. That he is home.
“Mission go ok?” you ask in monotone.
“Yeah,” he says, exhaling a tired puff of air into the back of your neck.
You wish you could melt for him and comfort him in return. You try, at least.
You try, but you feel like a gargoyle carved from stone, sorrow frozen on you. Face locked in a grimace. What mason would be so cruel as this? To make this bitter emotion permanent as stone? However, as he squeezes you tighter, fits against you so naturally, so familiar... As he touches you, you remember you are, in fact, skin and bone. You remember, even though the memory may be distant, that although your heart is heavy now, it once was light.
If it once was light it can be that way again.
He kisses your hair, even though it is dirty. He breathes you in, even though you are not clean. He loves you, and even if you think you are broken, he thinks you are perfect.
You are perfect.
His body heat suffuses through you, and you hadn’t realised how cold you were, until he warmed you. Poe had noticed, though. Poe loves you.
“Have you eaten? Drank anything?” he whispers into your neck, after a moment of holding you in gratitude and breathing deep, relieved breaths.
“Finn made me eat something,” you say, almost embarrassed, even though you know Poe does not judge you. “Managed half a ration. It was... today? I think it was today, I don’t know...”
“That’s good, baby!” he praises, entirely genuine. You feel him shift on the bed behind you, sitting up with his back against the headboard.
“C’mere,” he encourages softly, bundling you into his chest, and producing a ration bar from the pocket of his flight suit. “Split this with me while I tell you about the mission, okay?”
“Okay,” you agree, and Poe can hear that you sound a little sceptical. You doubt you have the energy to engage with him.
“I’ll tell you all the funny and horrific stories of your boyfriend’s heroics this past week. Shall I do The Thing as well?” he asks, and you swivel your head to look-up at him, seeing him tick up an eyebrow, slightly amused.
“Yes please,” you say, and you even manage the barest of smiles.
Poe proceeds to tell you all about his week as you nestle into his chest, his voice flowing through you like warm sand, pouring in and filling up just a little of the emptiness inside you. He also does The Thing, and he intersperses his animated storytelling with “your” part too, so that you don’t have to worry about upholding a conversation. So that you only have to listen, and you don’t have to worry that you aren’t able to react as you typically would. 
“That would be the bit right there you’d laugh,” he says as he recounts his finest dumbassery from the mission. A small smile inches over your face, as though you are rehearsing your own emotions. Trying them out. “Yeah, I think that one would be dumb enough to get a belly laugh from you.”
He continues.
“This would be the bit you would tear off my clothes because I’m a dashing badass,” he adds as he relays how he took down a ton of TIEs. “Yeah, definitely. You’d try to get steamy right about now.”  
It might be odd, but it is a comfort. It doesn’t remind you what you lack. You feel less of a deficit this way, as it reminds you what you’re capable of. That it is not always like this. That you do not always feel like this.
Will not, as soon as you’re better.
“And you, honey? Mission report?”  
You sigh, trying to think through what you have done, rather than what you haven’t. Even if the things to recount don’t sound as impressive as Poe’s, he always insists the battle is no less worthy. You are worth fighting for, after all.
“Well... I got a lot of sleep. Beebs made sure I took my meds.” It’s a short list, but what could be more important than that? The fact that you held on? Then, you have your first playful thought in days. “My love came home to me, and he thinks he’s all that, but he stinks pretty bad,” you tease, as if you weren’t in an entirely equal state.
“Kriff, you’re teasing me from your sick bed?” Poe’s chest shakes against you in gentle mirth. “Brutal, honey. Kriffin’ brutal.” You have a point though, he concedes. “We should both shower though, huh? Before someone catches a whiff and reports a possible herd of bantha in room z88?”
He clocks your trepidation as your eyes flick over to that taunting refresher door.
He squeezes your arm, and somehow manages to be encouraging without even a hint of being condescending. “Pretty far, huh? You can do it yourself tomorrow, but.. d’ya want your big strong man to carry you for now, baby?”
“Yes please,” you smile, and Poe shifts once again. First, he strips off his flight suit and tosses it aside, and then he peels back the covers and helps you to stand. Then, he helps you step out of your vest and pants, before swooping you up and carrying you the five paces to the refresher door, setting you down gently. You glance back at the rumpled bed, which still calls out to you, and although it is a short distance away, you feel like you have trekked across a damn galaxy.
Poe begins to run the water warm in the shower, casually handing you a fresh tumbler of water to sip on as he does so. Then, he takes your hand and eases you under the stream of water.
Poe’s broad hands lather up your body and your hair, feeling like an act of worship as he slowly, gently, washes days of rest away from you, without question. Without expecting anything from you in return except to let him- and even then, only if you want to. He then makes short work of rinsing off his own body, searching your eyes as he does so.
Water is a funny thing, you think- it can drown and it can cleanse. It can be gentle and forceful, deep and still or turbulent. After days of drowning, it feels good simply to be clean. To begin to rise to the surface.
You reach towards that circle of sunlight at the mouth of the well. You look a little deeper into his eyes. See a little further.
“A little better?” he asks.
You nod. A little better. 
You step out with him, and even though he’s tired -ragged from this mission- he dries you off.
He changes your sheets.
He picks your dirty laundry up from your floor and throws it in the basket. He throws away your trash.
He let the light in.
Literally.
Then figuratively.
Yes, you still feel so heavy. So, so heavy.
But you know. A part of you knows that lightness will come again, if you just hang on. You can see it. You can see that light at the surface, still out of reach, but not forever.
You watch him as he cares for you in all these small ways and suddenly there are vowels and consonants pushing out from beneath your ribs.
“I love you,” you say as you perch on the edge of the bed, right where he seated you, not thinking to move. 
He pauses, dropping what he’s doing and coming to kneel on the floor in front of you. Tenderly, ever so tenderly, he takes your face in his hands, and his warm eyes are as intense as you’ve ever seen him, as if he can’t believe that you fought hard enough to push this love out from the depths. For him. Even though you are so sunken. Even though you cannot do it for yourself yet.
“I love you too,” he promises, entirely earnest. 
You push a small smile on to your face, even though you know you need not wear masks for him.
Yes, it got bad again, but it will get better.
You hang on, and that’s enough. More than enough.
You have to hang on, because there will come a day you’ll be so glad you did.
When everything in your chest rises up and gasps for air and lets you breathe again. You will break the surface and come back strong and eager for this life.
“It scares me when you’re sick. I love you so much.”
“I’ll be okay again,” you nod. “Or, I’ll try.”
That’s all anyone could ask of you. That’s all you can ask of yourself.
That is enough. More than enough.
You are enough. You are more than enough for him.
You look at him. He looks back.
His face. His face is art. You feel all those things; poetry, art, music, dance. They’re there. They’re just sunken. Muted.
Poetry is in the pauses too. The blank lines and empty spaces; in the missed beats. You will come back to yourself, and you will make new art. Feel new things. Things more full and replete with joy. Joy can clamber from out of the deepest wells, given time. It will. It will again.
“Can I kiss you?” Poe asks shyly. “Been desperate to kiss you,” he admits, the corners of his plush lips tugging up into a smile. He is sunshine. He is beautiful. Perfect.
You nod, and his lips meet yours, chaste and gentle, and not expecting anything in return.
You try your best to feel him. To feel at all.
You close your eyes and hope you will open your heart. It has begun, with a crack to let the light in.
There is fight left in you, even if you can’t see it. Even when you can’t feel it.
“I’m so happy to be home with you,” Poe says, and his words are greeted with silence.
That’d be the bit you’d usually say... I’m so happy too. But Poe offers his words freely, and you know he doesn’t expect anything from you in return. He doesn’t expect your happiness. He simply wants to give you his.
This is not a warm story, but he is warm.
Correction; this is not a warm story, not yet.
But, oh. Oh, it will be.
It was so, in the chapter before, and it will be, in the chapter which is coming.
And you? You will thaw, I promise. Not because of him. But because of you. Because you’re a fighter. Because no matter how long you may be sunken, you will float.
Poetry takes a breath sometimes. Misses a beat. It is not a waste. It is not worthelss, this pause. Sometimes it is needed. The big breath hope takes before it floats to the surface. So, maybe there is hope.
Yes. There’s hope.
There is hope.
Hope is like the sun. If you only believe it when you see it you'll never make it through the night.  Isn’t that what Leia says?
You will make it through this night.
This is how you feel now but will not be how you feel forever. You are not carved from stone. You are a fluid thing; you are made of water. Sometimes, you can drown in yourself, and sometimes you can be cleansed. You are always moving and ebbing, even if it’s so far below the surface that you cannot detect the shift.
This will shift.
Love and life and light are straining, deep down, and after all that straining, pushing, trying, when they resurface they will be strong.
There’s a reason they say hope floats.
It cannot be drowned forever, even if it is is drowned right now. It is not set in stone. You will float, up beyond that circle of sunshine. You will heal, even though you are hurt.
Poe knows this. His eyes tell you all this, but most of all, you know it; no, you feel it, in the depths of you. This is truth.
Poe peels back the covers, and he tugs you to his bare body, warm flesh against yours.
He’s tired. All his body can speak of now is sleep.
You are both tired of fighting, so for now, you must rest, and try again tomorrow. You stroke his hair and he strokes your back, and for now, this is enough.
Yes, for now, this is more than enough.
You are enough.
168 notes · View notes
kekisu · 3 years
Note
TOP 5 CHARAS AND 5 REASONS WHY YOU LIKE THEM GO GO GO
AHHHH OKAY OKAY. I LITERALLY LIT UP WHEN I SAW THIS IN MY INBOX YOU HAVE NOOOO IDEA THANK YOU SO MUCH ah okay. i hope its ok if i leave it to just one or two of my fav things about them though cause NFHBGDF I DONT WANT THIS TO BE MILES LONG i hope you understand!!!!!
1. LIGHT YAGAMI
now. i dont think anybodys surprised. MFKSKFMFMHNGJN honestly, though i dont care about death note much at all anymore, hes like gum stuck to my shoe and i just cannot get him off no matter what i do. i tell myself that i dont give a fuck about anything in death note until i see him on my dash and i go apeshit. hes completely changed me and how i approach analyzing complex characters. i think hes the first character that ive ever actually cared about in that sense? the sense where i look into every detail about him i mean. its really just so fun...
my absolute favorite thing about him... i really love how funny he is. this isnt to say hes a humorous guy im saying hes funny as in he makes such stupid decisions and its hilarious to see him struggle so hard constantly. the entire ending of death note is fucking insane it sends me into laughing fits every time. theres so many funny moments in death note despite it being considered a psychological horror animanga because of him being a genuine fucking idiot 24/7. hes supposed to be a genius but he truly does lack so much self awareness sometimes.
if you wanna know more of my thoughts in depth, i have an analysis of him here that you can check out :) ID LOVE FEEDBACK ON IT so if you disagree with me or have questions etc feel free to shoot an ask and ill try to answer!!!!!
2. GORO AKECHI
god... hes perfect. he and light are on the same level of favoritism for me, dont let the numbers fool you. hes hands down my absolute favorite in persona 5 and it blows my mind knowing that the majority of the fandom feels the exact opposite or are torn over him ITS ALMOST FRUSTRATING because its mostly due to the amount of misinformation/mischaracterization spread about him!!!! but no he just happens to be the best written character in that piece of shit of a game! MFDKDHNGJJ AND PERSONA FANS CANT COMPREHEND GOOD WRITING
my favorite thing about him.. i love how hes written. and i know this sounds really basic and predictable, but its the truth i just really love his growth as a character, especially in royals third semester when he gets a chance to properly shine and oh my god! did he shine! hes literally so perfect in 3rd sem
theres just something so captivating about an angry teenager who truly thinks of his life as worthless and doesnt bother making bonds with others because of it who suddenly finds himself questioning his choices of self isolation when he finally meets a group of people he can resonate with and feel seen by. a group of people who are willing to reach out and listen to him despite his past mistakes. theres just something so perfect about seeing that same angry teenager want to take his life into his own hands and strive to grow... that same angry teenager who didnt value his own life start to see meaning in things because of bonds...
i love goro so so much he makes me so emotional if it isnt obvious enough NGFHGDGBDFH I THINK ABOUT HIM A LOT. i think about him healing so much.
(btw im working on an analysis for him atm thats similar to lights so! stay tuned for that dropping when its done in like a million years NFHFBGFHDBGHF)
3. AKIRA KURUSU
DAMN 2 PERSONA 5 CHARACTERS IN A ROW
OKAY SO i know Technically akira is supposed to be a blank slate silent protagonist but let me tell you THATS SO FAR FROM WHAT HE ACTUALLY IS. IM NEVER FORGIVING ATLUS FOR TRYING TO SHOVE HIM INTO THE SILENT PROTAG BOX AND NOT LETTING HIM BE HIS OWN CHARACTER! BECAUSE HE HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BE AMAZINGGGGG ugh sorryfor caps im so fuckng mad MKDFKMGMHMGMG
it really does get on my nerves how because of atlus trying to make him a silent protag, the majority of the p5 fandom sees him as that. blank slate. nothing. when in reality he very much has a ton of spunk and id argue that hes his own character entirely if you just look a little deeper past the surface Like... its not even that hard to see personality in him. beneath the mask is literally his theme song, have you Not seen the lyrics to that? HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THE ENTIRE THEME OF THE GAME? this little dude is so traumatized and angry at those who wronged him (aka the justice system! shitty adults!) and people have the nerve to say hes the worst persona protagonist? lmfao
my favorite thing about akira is how he looks like a cat and how cocky and annoying he can be.. he is such a jokester hes the absolute dumbest. i enjoy this silly guy. *holds him under the armpits like a longcat*
4. SHIGEO KAGEYAMA
ahhh mob. he makes me do this -> :)
mp100, of course, changed my fucking life. mp100 is the reason i am the way i am and though all the characters are incredibly relatable and memorable and i cherish them so dearly, i, like most people, cherish mob the absolute most. seriously his strength really is incredible and though hes just a fictional character he is so inspiring and i wish to carry as much gentleness in my heart as he does.
im so so proud of him on his development he started off so.. i wouldnt say he was weak, but i would say that he lacked experience. he lived in his own little bubble not knowing what the world was like and throughout the story he grew to learn so much.. he learned to make such. mature decisions at such a young age. hes so so wise. hes so powerful not only because of his psychic powers but because of his compassion for others. he can befriend even the worst of people...
my favorite thing about him is his determination to become the best version of himself he can be. and also his relationship with ritsu (not me, i mean ritsu kageyama <3) i always gravitate towards siblings in fiction because im an only child and well <3 i dont experience that. so i like projecting onto them GHBFBBHFG they care so much for each other.. sniffle sniffle
5. RYO ASUKA
ok im going to be real even though im into devilman i dont have much of a reason to enjoy him this much. i just think hes hilarious and really cool and his satan form gives me gender envy. i love it when he commits random easily avoidable acts of violence for no reason at all its just because he wants to. and thats just fine. i think he can kill people and get away with it because hes ryo asuka. gay rights
30 notes · View notes
knight-queen · 3 years
Text
Lunatic Parade Yuma Mukami –(Chapter 3)
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[Chapter O 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3]  [Chapter 4]  [Final]
Place: ???
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Yui: (Nh...this place is…?)
???: Oh, we’ve met again huh.
Yui: (This voice...I’ve heard it before, I think…)
???: How are you feeling?...Looks like you get back your heart?
Yui: Kh! You, no way...Earl Walter?
???: Haha, you remembered me as you should.
???: More importantly, what’d you say? You want me to explain everything, don’t you?
Yui: This place is...tough one. I think I’m still carrying that stone within me….explain it slowly ー
???: Slowly? Haah...I am not willing to.
Yui: Eh…?
???: Isn’t that fine? Isn’t it important to get back the heart also for him?
Yui: Him...about Yuma kun?
???: That’s right. He also looks like suffering, it means he’s thinking about your feelings over anything.
???: He is the only one who’s trying to get back that fascinating heart...weird right?
Yui: (Heart...for that, just the taste of my blood has changed)
(But he said that he doesn’t care about the...taste.)
Yui: Yuma kun isn’t like you. He said that my heart has nothing to do with this.
???: Oh my, oh my...looks like you haven’t understood anything. ….Didn’t he treat you well?
Yui: Eh?
???: Those words are just lies, just for putting at ease, he said that….You are aware of the truth, aren't you?
Yui: Kh...Such…
Yui: (That’s true...for vampires. Taste of blood is most important to them.)
(He was trying to get back different thing rather than my heart, yet he’s dating with me)
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(But what is he really thinking? Could it be, all he’s doing just for making me relieved…)
………
???: He is a vampire after all. It’s something that can’t be ignored, right?
*BG black*
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Yui: (How selfish. He was being kind kind and sweet just for this)
I was able to think of anything around me only because of Yuma kun and yet…!
*Gets up from the sleep*
Place: Place: ホテル•モーントシュタイン  客室 / Hotel • Mortstein  Guest room
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Yui: Nh...it was just, a dream…?
(It was certainly an awful dream...huh?)
Yuma kun...?
(He’s gone...He was here before I fell asleep for sure)
(Did he go somewhere all by himself…!)
*gets up from the bed*
Yuma kun...where did you go?
*Door opens*
Yui: Yuma kun!?
*Hugs Yuma*
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Yuma: Oiii!! Don’t scare me outta nowhere!!
Yui: Ah...sorry…
Yuma: What’s wrong?
Yui: Because, you weren’t here when I got up, I was scared and…
Yuma: Aah, my bad. I was out for a moment to buy it.
Yui: Is that...a seedling?
Yuma: Vegetables! There’re seeds too!
That demon world’s strawberry of that cake! I want to grow, y’ know.
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Yuma: The fertilizer was outta stock so I gotta wait until they release ‘gain...well, it can’t be helped.
Yui: I see…
(It’s a relief that he didn’t go anywhere…)
Yuma: ...What’s wrong with ya’? Thinking that you suddenly jumped towards me and now you’re being gloomy...You’re tired or disappointed ‘bout something?
Yui: No, I’m fine.
Yuma: Heeh? Well, it’s fine. First of all….
*Yuma kisses Yui*
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Yuma: Nh...Calm down ‘kay?
Yui: Kh! ...I am!
Yuma: Hm? But I don’t think so. Kukuh...shall I experiment it a lil’ bit more?
Yui: Eh?
Yuma: Is it find ‘rround ‘ere...tch. I haven’t bite for a while so the marks disappeared.
Kukuh...stay still?
Yui: …...mhm
Yuma: You are being obedient today...that’s fine, ‘re I go...Haa-
Yui: Kh…!
Yuma: ………
Yui: (Yuma kun…?)
I knew I’d stop...I remembered my hands were messed with soil.
Yui: Eh…?
*Yuma backs off*
Yuma: Kukuh, sorry. There’s mud in your hair so come and have a shower.
Yui: Already...I understand. I’m coming.
Place: ホテル・モーントシュタイン  バスルーム / Bathroom of Mortstein Hotel
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Yui: (Phew, is it fine now?)
*Turns off the shower*
Yui: (More than that...earlier, was Yuma kun being patient for my blood)
(It means my blood has lost it’s delicious taste...for sure)
(Yuma Kun...has always been caring and kind. But as a return, what am I doing?)
(Me who has now worthless blood, can’t do anything)
(At this rate, may be he will start hating me)
(I can’t...allow it…)
(I must get back my heart. However, for getting back…)
(What can I do)
Place: 山中 / Mountain
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Yui: (As he said, I ascenden in this mountain road but...it’s getting so hard that I might get out of breath.)
Yuma: Oi, are ya ‘kay?
Yui: Fine…
Yuma: If it’s getting impossible, then say it soon. It’s only you, I can carry y’ easily.
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Yui: No, it’s fine. I can walk all the way.
Yuma: Aah? Then, it’s fine though…
Yui: (I have to at least walk by myself, I can’t be a burden to him)
Yuma: By the way, I didn’t imagine that I could get to know about a rare thing at the garden shop.
Yuma: They said, there can be treasure in the abandoned mine...I’m very excited!
Yui: Yes...very exciting
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Yuma: ...Oi idiot, you’re not interested at all!
Yui: Kh….no,it’s not like that. Sorry, I was a little thirsty.
Yuma: Damn, you’re hopeless. Wait a lil’ I’m going to bring water from that spring.
Yui: Yes, I am coming too.
Yuma: You’re dog-tired, so it would be fine.
Yui: No
(I should so things that can be done by my own...little by little)
Yuma: ….damn, I’ve no clue ‘bout your thoughts but, don’t stretch out your feet.
Place: Mining area / 鉱山跡地
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Yui: (Uuh…I’m not tired anymore but, no one is there, very weird.)
Yuma: Kuku...what’s up, sow. Are ya afraiding?
Yui: Because, this place is very creepy…
Yuma: Ah, that’s cuz in the past, there was a big accident here. 
Everyone was buried alive...since then, they used to come out!
Yui: Come out...no way….
Yuma: That ‘now way’. Of course ghosts,y’know?
Yui: Stop! I was already scared and…
Yuma: Haah? You, you’re walking, having a ghost in front of you, so it’s unexpected for you to be scared!
Yui: In front of me...there’s nothing.
Yuma: Idiot...there’s a vampire who’s having fun scaring a human woman.
Yui: ...Yuma kun is not a ghost.
Yuma: That’s true, but from your place, it's the same thing, right? 
Yui: Not at all! I am not scared of you or something.
(Completely different...you are affectionate.)
Yuma: Thank you.
In this connection, the thing we’re searching is pretty much the same, y’know?
Yui: Eh...really?
Yuma: Yup! In the depth of this mine, there’s a dragon-nest or something, there’s a rare thing out there!
Yui: But the dragon will be there, right…
(All I’m experiencing is all about legend things...as you expect from demon world)
*Yuma disappeared*
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(Ghosts or dragon, which one is creepiest...I haven’t seen them so I can’t have any guess)
Neh, Yuma kun, do you ーー
(Huh? He’s not here...but I far I can see, I should be a straight road)
(Could it be he’s hiding something to make me surprise)
Yuma kun…?
Stop already...Yuma kun!
……
(Huh? …...He’s really not there?)
Yuma kun, where? Hey!
(What should I do...preceding alone is dangerous. And also I can’t just recklessly go back and stray from here)
(But I’m fearing to be here, in this gloomy place…!)
(Anyway, to get distracted from this, let’s walk slowly)
*After sometimes*
Yui: Yuma kun…? Hey, Yuma kun…!
Please...response…!
*Stones fall*
Yui: kh!!
(I- I was scared…)
(Where did he go…?)
Yuma kun...I’m scared…
*Another sound*
Yui: kh!!
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Yuma: Here!!
Yui: Kyaーーーah!!
*Screen shakes*
Yuma: Hey...why are y’ screaming like this! Kch, my ears hurt…
Yui: (I was scared…!)
Selection ー
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→ Get angry (+ correct)
→ Get relieved
Yui: Same to you, threatening me like this is awful!
Yuma: Oi, oi, getting angry like this, why?
Yui: Because...you were gone and I was all alone...it was creepy…
Yuma: Yeah, I saw you trembling. When you’re calling my name, I wanted to scare you wishing good luck.
*Yuma hugs Yui*
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Yuma: You’re the one who’s bad for doing cute things.
Yui: …! *blushing*
*Yuma kisses Yui*
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Yuma: I won’t go anywhere...nh
Yui: (It won’t work. I’m relieved but at the same time...tears are…)
Yuma: Aah...my bad, don’t cry. I saw something shining in the dark, so I thought to stop by there.
Look.
Yui: (I see it glows rough pale in his palm and so beautiful…)
What can it be…?
Yuma: Who knows. Maybe Ruki could tell the name at one shot, but if it’s me, I can’t.
But, you like it don’t you?
Yui: Yes, it’s so pretty.
Yuma: Then I’ll give it.
Yui: Is that okay?
Yuma: There won’t be a result even if you say you don’t want to. Take it at once!
Yui: ….Thank you. I’ll treasure it.
Yuma: kukuh...If we get outta this mine, maybe we can find this stone a really ordinary one?
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Yui: That will be fine too….I am so happy. *blushes*
Yuma: I see...Let’s walk on.
Yui: (He’s so kind...I couldn’t do anything at all)
(I knew...I’m just a burden)
Yuma: Kch!? That is……?
Yui: Hm? What’s wro—
*Yuma covers her mouth*
Yui: (He suddenly blocked my mouth…!)
Yuma: Be quiet...I can sense something
Yui: (Eh? ...He’s pointing on a hole)
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Yuma: Definitely this one...there’s rare things here.
Yui: Eh? How can you be so sure?
Yuma: Hm? You can’ see it huh? It’s risky, so you wait ‘re.
Yui: Yes…
*After a moment*
Yui: (While he was searching, he went into the hole but, Yuma kun, I hope you are okay)
(Dragons must be pretty giant...I am worried)
*Foot steps*
Yuma: I made y’ wait! I get the treasure!
Yui: Treasure….what’s that?
(It’s a little large, and curved oval. Could it be…)
Yuma: Very surprising, right? It’s a dragon’s egg!!
Yui: Dragon’s!?
Yuma: Yup!
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Yui: I- it wasn’t good...wasn’t there it’s mother?
Yuma: Well, there was. But it’s fine since there were so many eggs out there.
Yui: But...it’s sad. As I thought, you should give up on this
Yuma: Aah? I got it with so much trouble, now you’re saying to give up on it?
Yui: Because…
(However, if Earl gets interested in this egg, he may give back my heart.)
(If everything goes well, then we may also get that cake…)
Yuma: Oi, stop spacing out. Anyway, let’s pull this thing.
Yui: Y- yes.
(What should we do...but at this rate, we won’t get a second chance to get such rare thing)
(Mom of the dragon...sorry…)
*They walk*
Yuma: haahー ! That was surprisingly easy!
Yui: Yes!
*BGM stops*
(Above all, it’s good that we’ve come this far safely)
*Wind*
Yui: Kyaa!
Yuma: Woo! Oops...No good...I was close dropping the egg …
Yui: Hey, what kind of sound that was.
Yuma: No clue…
*Sound*
Yui: (Again…? It’s kinda suspicious)
Yuma: Oi, somehow I’ve bad feelings ‘bout it.
Yui: Yes…
*Soaring*
Yui: Eh...this sound…
(Don’t tell me it's the dragon…?)
*Soaring*
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Yuma: It’s flying...but not a dragon. An eagle?
Yui: Looks like it’s facing here and approaching this way.
Yuma: Ah, so... was it a giant eagle’s egg instead of a dragon?
Yui: Eeeh!? That means…
(We’re the...prey!?)
Yuma: First of all, get outta ‘re!! Run!!
*They run*
*After a while*
Yui: Tc...Haa, Yuma kun...I can't run anymore…!
Yuma: Are you ‘kay! It’s cuz I’m holding this egg...shit!
Yui: (I...can’t…!)
Yuma: Kch...Yui! Let’s get out using that.
Yui: Eh? Using this...minecart? Will it move?
Yuma: We ain’t know until we try! Let’s hurry!
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Yui: (Anyway, we must have to ride it…!)
Game 
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(Words Yuma used in the game) ー
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“Let’s start!”
“You’re doing best”
“No use”
“Looks like game’s over”
“As a gift for doing great ー I’ll give you sugar-chan”
Fades to CG (If you win) ー
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Yuma: Yaay! You did great, Yui!
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Yui: (I’m glad...with this, we may run away)
Yuma: I wondered what’d happen ‘cuz the way it was shaking but, the egg is also safe!
Yui: Really? That’s great…
Yuma: Of course! And it raised my tension more than any other rides of the amusement park!
Super speed and I was feeling dizzy and also the changing patterns of the landscape….perfect adventure! It was fun!
I wanted to scream every time the cart swayed up and down y’know...if possible, I’d like to ride one more!
Anyway, it went pretty well. You did effort with all your might, so come ‘re!
*CG changed  as he hugs*
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Yui: Kyaa…!
Yuma: As I thought, a woman who does it, when she has to do it. I also like it...the courage you’re holding inside you.
Yui: Is that...praise?
Yuma: Of course! You’re the best...as expected.
Yui: Same for you...To me...you are just too good.
Yuma: Kukuh...you’re just saying cute things…
Don’t show your indolent nature on the outside that much. Or you can't do your best, right?
Yui: Kch...enough already!
(More than anything, I’m glad that we two are safe)
Place: Front of Mine Entrance / 鉱山跡地入口前
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Yuma: Then, we managed to get the egg but...how can we lure out that Earl?
Our weakness is that we don’t know his location...what should we do.
*Soaring*
Yui: Eh...this sound…!?
*Soaring*
Yuma: Tch, it was still chasing after us! Let's escape!!
Yui: (The eagle is roaring...looks really angry)
(But it’s obvious...that was her precious egg after all)
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(To the mom of that eagle, her child’s life is….uuuh, more important than my life, right?)
Yuma: Yui! Don’t space out!
*Soaring*
Yui: (Really, is it okay to escape like this? She’s roaring with such a sad voice...escaping like…)
(I can’t do it)
Yuma kun, let’s hand this egg to it’s mom.
Aah? What are ya’ saying so suddenly!
All of your efforts will become worthless like water but...I can’t…!
Yuma: ...You, are you saying seriously?
Yui: Yes...I’m really sorry.
But as I thought, I just can’t steal the egg from it’s mom.
If I would be in that mother’s place, I am sure I couldn’t endure it…!
Yuma: ….Haah, gotcha, do whatever ya’ want.
Yui: Yes, ...this egg, I will return it to her.
Yuma: Yeah.
*Soaring*
Yui: (Kh...I am scared…! But, I’m sure it will get more creepy if we hesitate to give it back)
Mother giant-eagle, we’re sorry! I...I was just being selfish.
We���ll give back your child so...take it!
*Soaring*
(Lift up as much as possible...rise up so high that you can reach the sky…!)
*Flying*
Ah…
(She skillfully grasped the egg and…)
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Flies away….
Yuma: Haa….
Yui: (It should be fine)
Yuma: ...We’re going back. 
Yui: Yes…
Place: Rubean Lake / ルビーン 運河
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Yui: (I’m glad that we’ve reached the gondola and descended from the mountain safely...but)
Yuma: ……..
(It’s not strange to get him angry. I was….just acting on my will…)
(This time too, he’s really disgusted for all of these)
(....What have I done.)
Yuma: ...Oi
Yui: Hm?
Yuma: Look around a little more….It’s Gondola, we may not get a second chance to ride it.
| Gondola is a kind of boat for riding a lake or something. Click here for more!
Yui: (No second chance….I see. It’s a nice view, it’s somehow natural for me to lost interest for everything)
(But...if I really want to feel, it’s just too painful….!)
Yuma: Haah...damn, don’t just finish all by yourself!
Yui: Eh?
*He gets closer*
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Yuma: Honestly, you’re a good-natured person...I’d enough of that.
Yui: Yes…
Yuma: So...I’ll do it!!
*Screen shaked*
Yui: Kyaa….stop...kch!
Yuma: No, I aiiin’t. It’s yer punishment! Haa!
*Screen shaked*
Yui: Kch...Yuma kun, my hair will get messed up…!
Yuma: Aah? I don’t care….It’s ‘cuz I like any kind of you.
Yui: Eh…?
Yuma: To be honest, when ya’ said to return that egg, I knew it’s gonn’ be happen.
Yui: Is that so?
Yuma: Yeah...well, it did get me mad. However, if y’ wanted to hold back then you should do it a little before!
Yui: I’m sorry. But I was…!
Yuma: Aah, if it’s you then I obviously know what it's ‘bout! ...You’re actions were...weird.
Yui: ...I thought you will hate me who has lost her heart…
Yuma kun, even though you said that you don’t care about the taste of my blood…!
*Yuma touches her cheek*
Yuma: Ya’re really stupid. No way I’ll hate you for such things.
But...sorry for making ya worried.
Yui: No, you’re fine. It was me who ー
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Yuma: No need to say needless words...nh…*kisses*
Yui: Nn….
Yuma: Be silent...don’t think of anything. Got it?
Yui: ...yes…
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Yuma: Good girl...nh…*kiss*
(About Yuma kun...I should have believe his words more)
Yui: ( I can’t get confused about the man in just a dream, who’s the closest and...always staying by my side.)
(But I won’t get puzzled anymore. I’ll trust the arms which are wrapped around me and...the person who is always being kind to me)
(Yuma kun...thank you so much) 
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The End of Chapter O3 ー
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isnt-it-loverly · 3 years
Text
How the Clouds Depart
warnings: abuse and mentions of sexual assault, please read with caution.
word count: 1.5k
A/N: this is an original story I wrote for my creative writing class. it is based off events that happened in my life and I hope you guys enjoy. 
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I sit in silence. The wind brushed through my hair and the cold bit at my skin. I stay perched on the damp pavement and as I run my hand over the bumps and grooves. A multitude of thoughts plagued my head. How did I get here? How could I let this happen? I was smart, I was cautious, I knew the signs, and yet here I am. This park was always my safe place. It was a place of innocence, a place of laughter, a place of happiness, and then he came. My tears felt frozen as they dripped down my face and the weight of them pulled me down. I can hear him creeping closer. I turn to look at him in those icy, stone-cold eyes. They are unforgiving, and not an ounce of humanity behind them. I know that he’s here to apologize and try to mend what’s been broken. Unfortunately, I know I’ll probably let him. This has happened far too many times because now I know his routine. I watch intently as he fixes his composer, putting on the mask that hides the monster underneath. 
“Eliza,” He says, so very gentle. 
My name drips from his lips like a song. It's melodic and almost hypnotizing. The way he speaks to me is like magic because he knows which spells to recite and which charms to use. He draws me in just like a snake ready to trap his prey. 
“Yes,” I respond meekly. 
He slithers in closer to me and he knows what he is doing. He’s clinging on to something that may not even be there anymore. He is mere millimeters away from me and upon closer inspection, I can see everything. Two dead eyes stare into me, while a devilish smile is spayed across his face, and worst of all there isn’t a man sitting next to me but an ungodly beast from the depths of my nightmares. 
“You know that I love you right? That everything I do is out of love, you just need to let go. You need to be better, you just need to trust me,” He said with an unwavering voice. 
I look up to the sky to be with my thoughts again. There were no stars and the moon was covered by thick black clouds. The dark has absorbed all the light in the sky. There was nothing bright or momentous about this night, all that resides here are gloom and dread. 
This was very typical of him. For Midas never blamed himself only the one who gave him the golden touch, the one who did everything to please him. Oh, how I tried to please him. I was everything he needed: a friend, a listener, and a lover. I tried so hard and yet I keep wondering why he could never see that. I was the one who kept gluing the pages back together while he was the one who tore them out. Every move I made was like dancing around eggshells, but regrettably,  I am no ballerina. Perhaps this is the breaking point. How many times can I try to make myself whole again only for him to shatter me like a fragile china plate? I will never be perfect, I will never be better, and I will certainly never trust him. Not after all the blackberry bruises, the relentless fighting, and the unwanted desire for my body. He will never change, so I must. 
“Do I? I asked solemnly. 
“Do you what?” He replied.
“Do I know that you love me?” 
“What kind of question is that? You know that I do. You’re everything to me.” 
He stares at me quizzically and I know that I’ve struck a nerve, The gears in his brain are turning and it is almost amusing to watch. The damsel never talks back to the monster. The princess doesn’t save herself, but no knight is coming for me. I must hold my own. It is my turn to slay the dragon. I am Beowulf and he is Grendel, it is time for his reign of terror to end. 
“How? Is this what love looks like to you? Are you really happy?” I asked desperately. 
“Of course I’m happy Eliza!” He yelled. 
He towers over me and his eyes are full of anger and rage. I’m afraid of him and of what he could do to me. He’s never hit me, only grabbed or jerked me around. He made sure to point that out. He begins talking about all the good times. It was true when our relationship first started it was beautiful. He was chivalrous, devoted, caring, and more. Everything a Knight in shining armor should be. However eventually that armor turned to rust, and his true colors showed. He continues to yell at me, thrashing about like a wild animal in a trap. 
“If you leave me I will die? Do you understand that?” He pleads. 
There it was. That was his go-to move, and it has worked without fail so many times. However, if I stay I will surely die. That I understand perfectly. It’s selfish of me, that’s what he continues to tell me. I need to think of others first, and if I just try to see the world through his eyes then maybe I could understand what I was doing wrong. Maybe then I could understand what I did to desire a love so vile as his. 
“Why are you just sitting there? Do you even hear what I’m saying?” He yells. 
His voice booms like rolling thunder. He takes my hand in his, but it is not a loving touch. It’s rough and coarse, I can feel the pain radiate up my arm and into my teeth. 
The wind howls in my ear, it’s screaming at me not to back down this time. The trees tremble and they are waiting anxiously for what I say next. The birds who were once asleep and safely nuzzled in their nest are now wide awake. Their eyes peer on me, for they too wait for a response. In fact, the whole park was screaming at me. The swings screeched to get on with it and the carousel begged me to finish what I had started. They have been with me since I was a child and now they are all yelling at me to take back control- to take back my life. They’ve always looked out for all of my life but now their songs fill my head at once and suddenly it becomes hard for me to think. And then I see it. A single drop of rain lands in a nearby puddle. I watch in amazement as the water ripples out. Incredibly, such a small drop has a lasting impact. Perhaps this was the final push, I needed to be a raindrop. No, I needed to be a tidal wave. 
“No,” I said while jerking my hand free. 
The rain started pouring at a steady rate, this was my moment. He was in my domain and now I was in control. The thunder rumbled overhead, giving me the strength I needed. 
“No?” He asked with anger welling in his voice.
“I’m done being your rag doll. You’re not going to look at me anymore, you’re not going to hurt me anymore, and you certainly will never touch me again,” I retorted. 
“You’re nothing without me!” 
“Perhaps. But I will never be anything with you.” 
“You don’t know what you’re saying, you love me!” 
“I loved the idea of you.” 
A flash of lightning illuminated his face. He was desperate, clinging on to any ounce of control he had left. I was behind the wheel now, and as long as I’m in the driver's seat he would never have another say again. I backed away slowly, it was finally over. The trapped had been sprung, he was wounded- there was nothing else he could do. 
“Eliza, if you walk away now I will never come back,” he said with a shaky voice. 
He looked like he was on the verge of tears. It shouldn’t have made me smile but it did. I wiped the rain from my eyes and laughed. 
“Perfect,” I smiled cheerfully. 
“Fine, if that’s what you really want. If I am so terrible and worthless then I’ll just leave,” He responded. 
He began to walk towards his car that was parked a few yards away. He looked back only once to see if I would change my mind. There was a gleam in his eye, a sliver of hope that I would come crawling back like I always did. Not this time, this time I’m triumphant. I’ve won the war. My life is mine again. As he drives away, I feel the rain wash over me. I feel clean. I feel light. I feel free. As quickly as the rain started it came to an abrupt stop and I  looked up at the sky to see that the moon shone brightly next to a million stars. The clouds were gone, and I knew that the moon was telling me that brighter days were ahead. 
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igirisuhito · 4 years
Text
Title: Collar Relationship: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito Rating: Mature Summary: Komaeda and Hinata decide to go through some of their old possessions. Hinata has a burning curiosity. Trigger Warnings: PTSD, Flashbacks, Triggers
[Ao3 Link]
‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ 
"Oh! I… I didn't realise I even kept this."
Komaeda mused to himself as he reached into the cardboard box in front of him, struggling to pull out the object he was so intrigued by. He jiggled it slightly, shifting it out from beneath the things weighing it down, before finally yanking it out with a triumphant grin.
They had been encouraged by Kirigiri to sort through some of their things as a form of 'spring cleaning.' Hanamura had experienced a panic attack upon finding a familiar electric knife which led to the remnants realising just how much stuff they still owned from their despair days. So Togami, the good one, took charge and paired them up to go through their things together.
Hinata knew all he owned was his reserve course suit and the barrette he had taken from Nanami. They were what he had awoken with, after all, since he had brought nothing else to the island. So he was just here to help Komaeda sort out his things.
Hinata returned the smile before gazing down, curious as to what had gotten Komaeda so intrigued. The other boy's fingers were now wrapped around a heavy steel collar. From the front, a long metal chain dangled, dragging across the wooden floor noisily as he brought it closer to examine.
"That's from your time in Towa city, right?" Hinata watched him closely, anxious that Komaeda may be set off by the object.
A small sound escaped him, an involuntary noise that was rather croaky and high pitched. It only further deepened Hinata's fears, the seconds feeling as though they had been dragging on forever since Komaeda last spoke.
Cautiously reaching out, Hinata gently placed his hand on the small of the boy's back. "H-hey…it's alright…"
It was an understandable reaction, one that didn't surprise Hinata in the slightest. Komaeda was still rather prone to despair spirals even after all these years of being isolated on Jabberwock. But that's why they were doing this, why Hinata was here; to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself when something brought back memories of the atrocities they'd committed and horrors they'd lived through.
Komaeda made the noise again, and again. And before he knew it, he was giggling. It was a happy giggle, not like the ones that cracked through the depths of his soul and spewed from his mouth like toxins during a breakdown. The light-hearted and wholesome sound left Hinata finding himself confused, but pleased Komaeda seemed okay.
"I'm sorry, it's just…I really let myself wear just whatever huh? Despair does awful things to people." A bright smile had stretched across Komaeda's face, one of genuine warmth. He wiped at the tears in his eyes, seemingly unaware that Hinata was currently skating right off the side of his emotional half-pipe.  
You literally sawed off your own hand but you're more upset about how you wore a collar…?
Deciding to keep that thought private, Hinata asked something else instead. "So uh... was it more of an edgy thing or a kinky thing?"
Komaeda's head snapped around to playfully glare at Hinata. "It wasn't kinky! Do you really think so lowly of me, Hinata-kun? Even in throes of despair I could never be so depraved as to force my sexual desires onto those around me, especially not the Warriors of Hope." He paused, a couple of breathless laughs escaping his lips. "I couldn't have done something like that, they would have bullied me for it in an instant. Children are merciless…"
"No no, you know I don't think of you like that, Komaeda." A small chuckle left Hinata as he thread his fingers through the front of his hair. "They were really awful kids, huh?"
"Victims of circumstance."
"I mean, they did kill thousands of people."
"So did you!"
"Yeah but I--!" Hinata sighed loudly in defeat as he realized the worthlessness of arguing about such a thing. "No...You're right."
Seeming pleased with his victory, Komaeda smirked cheekily as he set the collar down on the floor beside him. With that over with, he returned to rummaging through the box.
Hinata, however, didn't seem to be able to let it go. His eyes were still fixated on the shiny metal, poring over every detail and slight scratch. "Does it…hurt to wear?"
"Hmmm," As Komaeda spoke he continued sorting through his items, not stopping to look up at the other. "Not really, but if you have children yanking at the chain all day it's likely to cut into your skin a little."
"I see…" Even as Hinata gave a gentle nod of acceptance, he didn't seem to be able to peel his eyes away.
Something about that collar intrigued him, something he couldn't put into words. Perhaps it was purely just because of how odd the garment truly was. It weighed on his mind with a strange familiarity he couldn't place, one that he could only guess was due to his merge with Kamukura. A past memory?
"Do you want to try it on?"
The offer was enough to snap Hinata from his daze, heat rising in his cheeks as he shook his head wildly. "N-no…that's weird…"
Komaeda picked up the collar again, the metal making a soft tink against his fibreglass fingers. He unclasped the collar, allowing it to bend into its two halves before holding it out towards Hinata's neck. "I'll help you put it on."
Swallowing hard, Hinata stared at the metal nervously. Looking at it made him feel strange. Fuzzy, almost as though a static was settling over his brain. Was he getting…close to remembering something? Or was he… turned on by it? After all, a human on a collar and leash was unnatural, yet a popular fetish. And Komaeda was someone he was sexually attracted to...
He could sit and ponder the possibilities for hours, but it would be an unproductive use of time. Hinata expelled all the thoughts swirling around in his head, instead focusing on the situation right now. This strange feeling intrigued him, despite the fact it made him anxious as hell for no discernable reason.
As per usual, Hinata's curiosity outweighed his anxiety. "O-okay…"
With a small smile, Komaeda shuffled a little closer. He pressed the cool metal to the front of Hinata's neck, watching as the chain pooled in his lap. He then closed the collar before doing up the clasp with a loud click.
Hinata seized, every muscle in his body suddenly tensing with an intense sensation of panic. The kind of panic that made you think "This is it, I'm going to die."
The world seemed to fall out from beneath him, quickly being replaced by a vibrant green room, filled with the noisy hum of electronic equipment running and observational monitors beeping.
Strange men in white coats were looking down at him, faces going unrecognised.
"N-no…"
This will be the final part of the procedure. Are you ready, "Hinata-kun?"
"N-no!! Don't touch me!"
He furiously attempted to swat away the arm reaching for him, but he couldn't. After all, they'd strapped down any part of his body that was capable of movement. His left cheek itched immensely from the electrode stuck to his skin.
"It's okay, Hinata-kun." The procedure will be mostly painless, it's likely you won't remember a thing. This the final stage, after this you will be released and reborn as the Ultimate Hope.
I'm barely hanging on as is. I-If you take away any more I'm going to die. I'm going to forget who I am…
I don't want to forget her!
Hinata desperately tried to grab at the restraint around his neck. He could feel his knuckles against his skin as his fingers gripped onto the metal, but he knew his arms had been restrained.
It didn't make sense. None of this is making sense. What is going on?
Somebody pulled his hands away, probably angry at his lack of cooperation. Fingers dug sharply into his chin and lips, forcing his mouth open as they pressed hard against his teeth.
Why were they doing this? This wasn't part of the plan.
He let out a loud noise of discomfort, struggling to shake himself free of whatever held him. But before Hinata could push free of their grip, something hard was forced into his mouth.
Huh?
His mouth was suddenly so...cold. Ice cold. Stinging and burning into his tongue. He thrashed and whined, attempting to remove the object from his mouth, but instead his jaw was forced shut.
"Hinata-kun!!"
Who is that? The voice sounded too young to be one of the surgeons.
"It's not real! Whatever's going on right now is just an illusion!"
He could almost laugh. He must be in denial, hoping that this nightmare wasn't turning out exactly the way it was meant to. After all, it was him who wanted this
so
so
badly.
"The Kamukura project ended a long time ago! You're safe now, Hinata-kun!"
The… Kamukura project?
Ah, that's right. I've already become Kamukura Izuru. I've been Kamukura Izuru. There's no reason for this to be happening.
Then that means…
This isn't reality.
Click. The soft sound of the collar's clasp being undone was what finally pulled Hinata back.
He could feel the ice melting against his tongue. The restraint had been removed from around his neck, yet the sensation of pressure and cool touch of the metal still lingered.
He should… try to open his eyes.
Cracking one open, Hinata found himself surprised by the flood of bright warm sunlight. The sharp contrast between that and the harsh neon green of the neuroscience institute surprised him.
It was almost as if the warmth of the world was welcoming him with open arms.
He could hear seagulls, the rhythmic thud of the washing machine, the sound of metal chain clattering against the wood floor and heavy breathing.
Ah, that was his own breathing.
A mess of fluffy, white hair was above him, knelt down and leaning over him with a look of panic on his face. It was a familiar scene, one that reminded him of the time when he woke up on the beach within the simulation.
"Komae-dah…"
The boy moved the instant he heard his own name, practically throwing himself at Hinata in a tight hug and pulling him upright off the floor. As Komaeda pressed his chest as close to Hinata's as possible, he whispered apologies quickly and harshly, fast enough to barely sound like coherent words.
"I'msosorryI'msosorryI'msosorry!!"
Despite his best efforts to speak, Hinata's voice was barely above a whisper. "I-it's alright…not your fault…"
He was still shaking and his hands were grossly clammy from all the sweat. He wiped them on the back of Komaeda's shirt and hugged the boy in return.
"I-I should have known…" Komaeda mumbled, squeezing tighter.
Hinata wasn't sure of what to say to reassure him, he really didn't want Komaeda to fall into one of his deprecation spirals, not right now. His head was pounding and he could still feel the electrodes attached to various places on his head and chest.
"Ko-maeda...I think I'm still…"
Komaeda leapt out of his arms, shuffling back a little before grabbing Hinata's right hand. "Ah sorry, I was…scared. But please don't worry about me right now Hinata-kun. Focus on getting yourself back down."
After nodding in response, Hinata took a deep breath and glanced around the room. He idly scratched at his left cheek as he took note of the objects around him.
Bed. Bookshelf. Messy stack of books. More fucking books. There's a gas mask under the- breathe. There is no gas mask under the bed. It doesn't matter. There's a coffee table. A desk that we added more recently.
Hinata swiveled around on his butt
The obnoxiously see-through bathroom. The toilet, bath, shower, towels. I think…I think I'm okay.  
He let out a long sigh, relaxing his body enough to let himself fall back and lay down on the floor. Letting go of his hand, Komaeda continued to watch him cautiously. "Are you okay, Hinata-kun?"
He nodded. Still feeling a little uncomfortable with using his words, he opted to idly suck at the ice cube, reveling in the cool water dribbling down his throat.
Komaeda simply laid down next to him, wearing a gentle smile on that pale face. "We can stay here as long as you like, this was my last box of stuff anyway. If you wanna talk about it, you can. If you don't, that's fine too."
"I…" Despite the ice cube in his mouth, Hinata's throat felt unbearably dry and tight. "You were right. In your assumption…"
"Ah, so it was about the Kamukura project then." A soft sigh escaped Komaeda, one of dismay rather than frustration. "I couldn't think of anything else that would cause that kind of reaction. And I don't believe Kamukura did much during his time as a remnant."
Nodding again, Hinata found himself bringing his fingers to his neck. The skin was irritated, sore. He could still feel the collar sitting heavy on his Adam's apple, slowly crushing his esophagus…
"Hinata-kun."
Right. He took a deep gulp of air, having not realised until that moment he'd even been holding his breath. He was so grateful for Komaeda's attentiveness to detail that seemed to continue to save him time and time again.
"Do you like the weather here on Jabberwock Island?" The question came completely unprompted, out of the blue.
Hinata recognised this from one of their therapy sessions with Naegi, where he helped them learn methods on how to cope with these kinds of incidents. A subtle reminder of where the person was wrapped in a question designed to distract oneself. It seemed Komaeda had finally bitten back his curiosity in order to prioritise Hinata's fragile mental state.
"It's a lot like Japan's weather during the summer. Humid. I've never liked humid weather, it makes me sweat too much." He decided it best to answer the question, actually giving it a solid amount of thought. "Though it can be really nice when it rains and there's a humid heat, the atmosphere feels so strange."
Komaeda found himself smiling a little as he analysed Hinata's reaction. "Ah, I can understand that. The tropical thunderstorms we get here are quite interesting."
"It'd be nicer if they didn't trigger Saionji's panic attacks." Finding his mood suddenly souring again, Hinata muttered to himself.
"Trauma has unusual effects on people." Komaeda let out another one of those dry laughs, the kind he did when remembering something less than pleasant. "You and I both know this well."
There was a moment of silence in the room as Hinata blinked a few times, attempting to fully process the words as they were spoken.
"Yeah… I uh, I shouldn't have said that. It's not her fault, after all."
"You're allowed to have these kinds of feelings, you know? You're allowed to be angry that these things happened to us." Speaking in a tone of full yet agonisingly painful sincerity, Komaeda gently placed his right hand over the stump on his arm. "You're only human. You've always been human. It's better for you to express these emotions, especially after what just happened."
"I know… I just…" Gesturing vaguely, Hinata trailed off for a moment, unable to find the right words to describe his thoughts. "I just feel bad about everything that's happened. I'm kind of responsible for all of this. There's so many things that I wish I could change, wish I could have… done differently, I guess."
The other boy paused for a moment before speaking again, an expression unreadable to even Hinata painted onto his delicate features. "Hinata-kun…may I touch you?"
Hinata nodded in consent, and Komaeda wiggled himself closer. He wrapped an arm around Hinata's waist, humming softly as he snuggled up against the other.
"In all honesty, I just wish… I wish I didn't stop you at Hope's Peak. I should have let you shoot her. We wouldn't be in this stupid fucking mess if I just let you." Hinata's rage surged suddenly and he dug his fingers tightly into the fabric of Komaeda’s loose green jacket.
The anger within him eased as he clung to the other. Taking a moment before he groaned and buried his face in the other's chest, reciprocating the hug Komaeda had graciously offered him.
Once Hinata had noticeably cooled down, Komaeda spoke up again. "I don't think I was ever capable of killing her, even if you hadn't stopped me. My luck never planned for me to have an easy ride."
"Still, if I hadn't helped her at all-"
"Nothing would be different." The sudden stern tone made Hinata flinch. "You played less of a role in the whole thing than you care to admit, Hinata-kun."
Ah, he wasn't wrong.
All he had been used for was to manipulate the Reserve Course and put pressure on the faculty. She had other means of doing it and his denial to get involved would have just brought Enoshima more despair.
Hinata sighed loudly, moving his face up to Komaeda's neck and nestling his face into his untamed ivory hair.
"You're right…I'm sorry."
"It's fine, we all feel that way sometimes." Komaeda whispered, looping his other arm around Hinata.
As compelled as Hinata felt to object, he decided to accept it. Enoshima would have found other pawns to play her sick game with. They were lucky enough to just be alive.
They laid there in comfortable silence for a short while, basking in the warm rays of sunshine streaming through the window. All that could be heard was the sound of one another breathing and the ocean waves rolling into shore.
Fingers were threaded into the back of Hinata's hair, stroking through the strands soothingly as he succumbed to Komaeda's familiar touch and allowed himself to calm down. The gentle hold put him more at ease, pulled him back into reality, back into a world where everything was okay. Where there were no doctors here to hurt him, no anti-social scientists ready to break into his head, no creepy girls giggling as they tried to bludgeon him with a baseball bat.
It seemed as though Hinata's breathing had begun to slow down, his grip loosening as he was no longer desperately attempting to ground himself against Komaeda. It seemed he had calmed down enough to maybe talk about it, so Komaeda decided to pop the question.
"So, it was the collar that triggered it? Or a coincidentally timed flashback?"
"The collar. They used something similar to strap me down when they imbued me with my talents." As Hinata began to speak, his voice took on a dull and logical tone. "I believe any kind of restraint would likely elicit a similar reaction."
It wasn't unusual for Hinata to speak differently when recalling the operation or any of the events during the Hope Cultivation Project. It was as if he were trying to distance himself from the memories, to put up an emotionless front in order to make it hurt less. But at the end of the day it was more likely that he just saw things from an impersonal perspective.
Kamukura was always like that.
He never truly believed himself to be a part of society, a person of talent, a human. He was simply an outcast. Everything that he did or that had happened to him were just things that took place, nothing more, nothing less. Whoever's hands it were that dealt these actions meant little to him. The fact Hinata still tended to do this was likely just another side effect of the merge. Komaeda was just grateful that the tone of Kamukura's voice didn't frighten him anymore.
Before Komaeda's thoughts could spiral too much further into the contemplation of Hinata's actions, he spoke again.
"I'll keep that in mind. We'll make sure to add it to your profile's information, okay? That way this shouldn't happen again."
"Flashbacks are an inevitable part of having PTSD." Hinata mumbled the words into Komaeda's neck, seeming deflated.
"I know, but figuring out what triggers them helps." He ruffled Hinata's hair in an attempt to comfort him. "Once everyone knew not to use a hand saw around me, my stress went down immensely! I'm still so grateful everyone would do something like that just to ensure the comfort of somebody as worthless as me!"
There was another grumble from Hinata, who seemed unamused by Komaeda's comments. "You're not supposed to say stuff like that about yourself anymore…"
"And thus proves therapy isn't a perfect science either. At least it improves things bit by bit with time, like your triggers will." Knowing Hinata wouldn't be able to object to the argument, Komaeda found himself smirking a little.
He was right.
Hinata sighed loudly and snuggled closer into Komaeda's arms, groaning softly all the while.
"I know you think it's your job to protect all of us, Hinata, but having these issues doesn't make you weak. You're an Ultimate!" Upon seeing the other wince, Komaeda chuckled softly before directing his reassurance down a different path. "You do so much for our class, and we all love you dearly. Everyone wants to help you the best they can, Hinata-kun."
"Hm… do you think they would want to help me out with how cold my mouth is now?" Hinata squeezed the other boy tightly, keeping him firm in his grip.
"I can think of at least one who might-- Ah! Hinata-kun!!"
A cold tongue laved across the skin of Komaeda's neck, causing him to yelp and squirm. He attempted to push Hinata away, but was unsuccessful when the other boy suddenly rolled on top of him, straddling and pinning him in place. Leaning in close, Hinata eyed Komaeda's lips.
"May I?"
There was a soft huff of defeat from the boy beneath him, followed by a breathless laugh and that ever familiar smile.
"Of course."
Hinata pressed a light kiss to Komaeda's lips, causing the other boy to grin even wider as his cheeks flushed pink. "I love you."
"I love you too."
There was a moment of peace, perhaps the first true peace the two had felt all morning. Hinata felt hyper-aware of everything in the silence; the now lack of gentle thudding and swishing from the washing machine, which must have finished without them noticing. Dust particles danced in the golden rays of sunlight that always seemed to cut through any curtains they hung up. The gentle grey of Komaeda's eyes as they glistened slightly with tears after being the victim of a tickle assault, the slight red flush of his cheeks, the way his messy hair looked so nice with his bangs pinned back in order to keep the hair from his face and show off more of his forehead.
A warm sensation bubbled in Hinata's chest as he leaned his weight further onto Komaeda, allowing himself to relax with a soft sigh as he nuzzled further into the other boy. It felt as though he could fall asleep right there, completely calm in this perfect little world of theirs. Of course it couldn't last forever, but even so, it felt as though things were gonna be okay.
As long as Hinata and Komaeda were together, things would turn out okay.
It was no surprise that Komaeda was thinking the same thing, staring into those gorgeous mismatched eyes of his. There were scars on Hinata's face, scars that would continue to serve as painful reminders to both him and everyone around him. But Komaeda loved those scars, he loved every part of Hinata Hajime and Kamukura Izuru. No matter how many times they disagreed, fought, or got hurt, they always found solace in one another.
Komaeda had to pause to piece his train of thought back together. "Now, how about you get off me and let's pack everything back away, okay?"
With a gentle nod, Hinata shifted off the other's torso. Despite his mixed feelings on the loss of comforting heat and weight from Hinata's body, Komaeda sat himself up before rising to his feet and extending his hand towards the other. Hinata took another moment to recollect himself, before taking his hand and carefully rising to his feet.
Together they packed away all those memories, memories that would haunt them for a lifetime.
Your Handbook has been updated!
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im-american-honey · 5 years
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Angel On Fire Ch.III { Michael X Reader}
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A/N: This took too long to get out but it’s been very busy time for me. Plus I’m working on an actual book so that’s taking up my interest. The story is also going pretty quick since I’m way behind. So sorry for the wait and very sorry that this is kind of a crappy chapter.
Warning: smut, a bit violence, bad writing
——————————————-
A month now Michael and I were hanging out. Everyday he would wait for me to get out of school to walk me home. Sometimes we would go to the mall or the park. Because of this many of my “friends” distanced themselves from me. I don’t mind though. My mission is to kill the antichrist, I have no time for mortal relations.
“ There is a serious matter I would like to talk to you about. Do you mind if we stop by my house?” Michael asks. We were still near the school. Kids walking out stared us. Whispered to their friends.
“Okay but I can’t stay long I have homework to do.”
He chuckles. “You know school won’t prepare you for what you’re destined for.”
“And what is that?”
He lifts my chin with his finger. He looks me in the eyes and says: “Great things. Such great things.” He smiles at me and gives me a peck on my lips. I felt a sharp burst of energy. I want more.
I bring myself back down to earth, noticing Melinda and my old group of friends looking at us. A scowl rested on Melinda's face. Was she jealous?
“Alright then let’s go.”
———————————————
Michael’s house was nicely painted blue and white. Out front was a small porch area. Inside everything was like a normal house. It’s even nicer than mines. “Michael is that you?” A woman dressed in all black comes out from the kitchen. She looked a bit surprised when she saw me. “Well, I didn’t know we were having guests.”
“ Y/ N this is Ms Mead, my guardian. Ms Mead this is Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you.” I hold out a hand for her to shake.
“ You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t ya? Now I understand what kept Michael out so long.” She jokes while shaking my hand.
“Well, Y/N and I have important things we must discuss .” Michael interrupts.
“I have to go run a few errands so I’ll leave you to it.” She grabs her purse and walks out the door. “It was nice meeting you darling.” She gives me a smile, closing the door.
“Let’s go to my room.” He says.
Michaels room wasn’t anything special. Just a few posters on the wall, a desk near the window and his bed. “Have a seat.” He says. I set my bag down near the door and take a seat on his bed. He grabs the chair from his desk and sits in front of me. He puts his hand under his chin and just stares at me. I tried to stare back at him, but every time I did I felt those icy blue eyes penetrate my soul.
“So…. you gonna stare at me all day or do you wanna talk to me about something?”
He leans in a bit closer. “Tell me your story. Everything. From why you got kicked out of heaven to your life among humans.”
I stayed cool, but in my mind a million questions rushed through my head. Does he already suspect?
“Is it because your a Nephilim?”
“How do you know that?”
“It's odd. I feel such a powerful energy vibrating off you. But after being with you for so long I began to realize it was two different energies mixing up inside you. That of an angel. And that, I guess, of a witch.”
He was catching up. It won’t be long until he finds out why I am really. So I took a deep breathe in, and quickly come up with a story to tell him.
“My father was an angel, my mother a witch. For a while I spent time between heaven and earth. Never have I once seen my mother and father interact. Not until that one day when he- .” I stop and take a deep breathe. I stare at my hands, forcing tears out of my eyes.
“He killed her didn’t he?” Michael asks, sympathetically. I nodded my head yes. “ He said she knew too much. That she would expose the secrets of heaven.” I continue to lie. “They told me I was dirty. A bastards child born of sin. So they banished me from heaven. I was only five then. I was found wandering the streets by this man and his wife. They took me to a hospital. I was then taken to the orphanage in Sacramento where I was adopted. Since then I’ve just been living here. I’ve learned how to adapt to them but I feel like I’ll never belong no matter how much I try. I just feel so lost Michael.” I caught myself on the last words. It wasn’t part of the lie.
I looked up at him. My tears cloud my vision, but was able to see the tears that formed in his eyes. “What are you Michael?” I ask.
“I’m the antichrist.” He says trying to smile.
“And the antichrist is going to help a worthless soul like me?”
“You are not worthless Y/N. Don’t ever say that about yourself. And of course I will help you. I know what it is like to be abandoned. It’s such a horrible feeling. And I am lucky enough to have found my Ms. Mead, who truly loves me. But you have no one.” He suddenly gets down on his knees in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Y/N You have been the star in my life the weeks we have known each other. I find myself waking up every morning excited to see you. When I am around you I feel pure joy. I swear to you my Star to protect you. To always be by your side.”
In total shock I couldn’t say anything. With so much passion, this boy confessed to me. Never has anyone spoken to me like this. I look into his eyes and Isee so much love staring back at me.
Am I actually crying?
Kill him
He kisses me. His soft lips pressed on mine. It was like a fire had ignited.
Kill him
I kiss him back. I felt a bit awkward since I don’t really know how to kiss. But Michael takes over. He lays me on the bed. Our two energies mixing together felt like it could create a storm. His hand lowered to my thigh giving it little squeezes. He travels higher up my skirt until I feel his fingers rub the outside of my underwear. I instantly bolt up.
“I’m sorry I can’t do this.” I quickly pull down my skirt. What am I doing? I need to kill him damn it!
Kill him!
But I don’t want to. I enjoy Michael’s company. He’s the most interesting thing that has come into my life. A part of me said to leave. Another part of me told me to kill him right on the spot. Obey the Archangel’s request.
But another part of me crawled from the depths of me. It wanted his touch. To feel his everything on me. Inside of me. “I’m so sorry. We’re going to fast aren’t we? If you don’t want to we don’t have to.” He tells me.
I look into his eyes. My hands cupped his face. My lips brush against his.
“No. I want this. I want to feel love.” I then rested my lips on his. He kisses back with more passion than before. I lay back onto the bed as he hovers over me. He pauses to remove his shirt before continuing traces of kisses down my neck. He undid my blouse, throwing it to the side of the bed. He moves down to my collarbones as he works on get my bra off. Once that is done he caresses my breasts before taking my nipple into his mouth. I let out a loud moan as he sucked on it. His hands travelled up my thigh again, this time reaching inside my underwear. His fingers rubbing between my folds until they found my clit. He rubs it with his thumb causing little whimpers to escape my mouth. “I want to hear you my Star. I want to hear you call my name.” He moved from breast to giving kisses down my body removing both my skirt and underwear leaving me fully naked. He nips the inside of my thighs, his hands holding onto them. I run my hands through his hair as he licks my clit. He sucks on it while humming. I squeeze my thighs around his head.
“Michael please….” I gasp. My phone rings. Michael stops what he was doing. He went to my bag and pulled out my phone. He then hands it me with a smirk. “Answer it.”
When I saw the caller ID I almost threw it at him. “Are you crazy! This is my Mother!”
He quickly press the answer button before I could stop him. “ Y/N!” I hear her yell.
“Hello Mother, is there something wrong?” When I began speaking Michael went back down and continued.
“ Y/N where the hell are you!? What are you doing with that boy?!”
“N-nothing Mother. It’s fine.” I try the best to contain myself but Michael licks faster.
“Ms. Dallas said she saw you going into that devil woman’s house! Now what the hell is going on?!”
“Mom trus-.” I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. Michael was now pumping two fingers into me while sucking on my clit. I became deaf to Mother’s nagging on the other line. “Mother I have to go!”
“No! What is going on! You’re Father-.” Before she could finish I hung up on her. I throw my phone aside and grab onto his hair. As I feel myself reach my climax I let out a loud and long moan.i was panting, out of breathe. “You… are the…. devil.”
He comes up and gives me a kiss. “And you are so beautiful.” He begins to undo his belt when loud banging noises were heard at the door. I scramble up to get dressed. Michael, with an annoyed sigh, buckled up his belt and put on his shirt before going down stairs. I was in the middle of buttoning up my blouse when I heard yelling. Not fully dressed I run downstairs to see what was happening.
It was my Father. He was grabbing Michael by his shirt yelling at him. I could see his veins on his neck. His face a bright red. I have never seen Father so angry. He was always the calm one. This man was someone different. He punches Michael and he falls to the floor.
“Stop! Please don’t!” I screamed. I cry as I tried to hold Father back.
“Y/n! How could you do this? How could you!” He was now shaking me by my shoulders. I felt something strange rise up inside me. Something that felt hot, that had been boiling deep down.
“LET GO!”
Father suddenly flings off me, hitting the wall then falling to the floor. He touches the back of his head, looking at the blood that stained his fingers in shock.
Leave and never comeback for me. Forget about me.
Father just sat there in a daze. Then he gets up and walks out, closing the door behind him. Never again will he know who I am. I break down in tears. Michael wraps his arms around me, cradling me. I bury myself into his chest and cry. “My Star, you don’t have to worry. We have each other. I promise I will always be there for you.” He shakingly kisses my forehead, blood from his lips leave a mark.This causes me to cry harder. The door opens and both us jump. It was only Ms. Mead back from her errands. She looks at both of us. “ I guess I’ll be cooking for three.”
—————————————————————— Lmao I hope you still want to be tagged
Taglist: @the-captain-kidd @natalielivesformusic @brieababy
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arcana-foolsjourney · 5 years
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an angsty arcana fic literally no one asked for
content warning!
ultimately a hopeful story but wanted to warn anyway: depression, suicidal ideation, vague reference to self harm
So, disclosure - I am bipolar, and have struggled with some pretty major depressive episodes my whole life.  And it made me wonder how I would react if I learned I had been brought back to life, if I were in the apprentice’s position...and here we are. This story is set post-game, after apprentice and co have finally thwarted the Devil’s plot (though I’ve envisioned the world at large not understanding the apprentice was the one who saved the day - I enjoy anonymous heroes I guess).  
MC is unnamed, gender neutral, and there is no explicit romance (though Asra is the love of my life so that might creep through).  I hope you guys enjoy this, and I’d love to hear your feedback.  Be well lovelies. * * * * * * * My name is MC.  I am a student of the magical arts, trusted adviser to the Countess of Vesuvia, and magically bound to the Fool, first and last card of the Major Arcana.  I have come back from the dead, helped save the city from the plague, and defeated the Devil’s’ scheme to enslave the world - all the worlds - to his will.  When I walk down the streets people talk about the Hero of Vesuvia.  They don’t know they’re talking about me, but I do.  I can’t believe it, but my friends say it’s true.  Asra, Muriel, Pasha, Nadi, Ilya…my friends.  They call me a hero too. 
Tears blur my vision as I curl up on the beach, burying my face in my arms.  If only they could see me now. 
“MC?” 
I jump, hurriedly wiping at my eyes, but it’s no use.  Asra is rushing towards me, concern clouding his features.  “What’s wrong?”  He drops beside me in the sand and puts a hand on my shoulder. 
“Nothing!”  I twist to my feet, away from his touch.  There’s a tight coil within me, and it’s threatening to break.    If he shows concern now it might come loose. 
Startled, he stares up at me, one hand still floating in the air.  Slowly he lowers it, then glances around at my hiding spot, frowning.  “What are you doing all the way out here anyway?” 
“How did you even find me?” This spot on the beach is some distance away from the docks of Vesuvia, the sandy stretch interrupted by massive boulders, forest pushing toward the shore.  It’s a lonely spot, far away from where anyone ever goes.  I imagine the looming visage of the Lazaret, out there in the waters ahead, has something to do with that. 
Asra rises slowly to his feet.  “I had a feeling.  Followed your footprints.”  He gazes out at the island, expression darkening.  “Seriously, why would you come out here?” 
“I don’t know, I feels pretty appropriate to me.  Sort of like home, right?”  My laugh is bitter and empty. 
Alarm flares on Asra’s expression, and I know I said too much.  “MC, what is going on?”  He approaches again, reaching out like he wants to hold me.  “You’ve been acting so odd lately… like there’s a shadow dragging on you.” 
There it is again, that hollow laugh - I can’t keep it in.  “You noticed that, huh?”  Internally I berate myself.  I’ve been trying for so long to not let him see me like this - if he doesn’t back off he’s going to ruin everything.  Rage flares within me, then dies just as quickly, replaced with shame.  What is wrong with me?  I turn my back on him. 
“...Of course I noticed.”  Even without seeing him I can hear the hurt in his voice.  “I’ve always noticed.  Please, tell me what’s wrong.”  Once again, I feel his hand on my shoulder, and something snaps inside of me. 
“I shouldn’t even be here!” I cry, whirling to face him.  “Okay?!”  I point out towards the Lazaret, dim and hulking in the twilight.  “That’s where I should be.” 
Asra’s face is ashen, and he shakes his head, eyes wide and quivering.  “No, no, don’t say that, please - “ 
“Why not?  Why shouldn’t I?”  My words come out in a rush, and I feel my eyes burning with tears that I’m too furious to shed.  “I died, Asra.  Finally!  I was dead.  I was done!”  I laugh again, a frantic sound devoid of mirth.  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be done?” 
“What do you mean?” Asra whispers. 
“I’m saying I hurt, Asra.  I’ve always - it’s like there’s a wound inside me.”  I clutch my chest, scrambling to find the words to finally explain the feelings I’ve worked so hard to keep inside.  “I don’t know where it came from, but it’s always been here.  Like a knife, twisting.  Things can be completely fine, I’ll feel great, like I’m on top of the world and then suddenly, it just - falls away, and suddenly there’s nothing left but cold and hurt and empty and I don’t know why, it doesn’t make sense but I can’t make it go away and I can’t stop it and I’m just - I’m tired, Asra.  I’m so tired of hurting so much!”  I choke on a sob and wrap my arms tight around myself, trying to pull this flood back in, but the damage is already done. 
His face is a blur now, my unshed tears preventing me from seeing his expression, but I see him step closer and feel his intention just the same.  
“No, don’t - “ I step back.  “Don’t touch me right now, I can’t - I can’t - ”  I can’t look at him anymore.  I stare out at the sea, and the Lazaret blooms in my vision, suddenly filling my sight.   
“I remember next to nothing of before you brought me back, but one thing did come to me.  When you told me what you’d done.”  Asra says nothing, waiting in terrified silence for what I say next.  There is no way to stop it from coming out now. 
“I remembered why I went to apprentice with Julian…  I wanted to find the cure, of course.  Wanted to help people, ease their suffering, but I also knew - “ I take a deep, shaky breath.  I want to scream.  Instead I just say, “I knew there was a good chance I could catch it, and die too.  And that would be okay, because I would be helping people, and then I wouldn’t have to…hurt.  Anymore.” 
I stare over the water, feeling the darkness crowd close as the sun sets.  In a tiny voice, Asra asks, “Do you wish that I had - that I hadn’t brought you back?  Do you…” he can’t bring himself to ask it but I hear the question anyway.  Do you blame me for this? 
My sigh seems to come from the depth of my soul.  Too late to hold back now.  “When you first told me, and I remembered what - what I just told you.  I was so confused, and then it explained so much of what I’ve felt since I woke up again - that those things I’ve felt, I’ve always felt, that knife has always been there.  I’ve always been broken.  And that I had a chance to fix it, and then had it taken away…” the memory of the realization still tastes bitter in my throat.  “I was angry,” I whispered.  “I grieved my missed chance.” 
Finally I glance at him. “I don’t want to blame you for bringing me back.  And sometimes I can be glad that you did, but sometimes…I just want to be done.” 
“MC…” I shrink from his voice.  It’s too raw.  I can’t do this. 
“Asra, please, I need to be alone.” 
“No, listen,” his voice is frantic.  “We can fix this, just let me - “ 
“Asra, please!  Just leave.” 
“MC, I can’t - I just can’t leave you alone!  Not now that I understand - “ His eyes are streaming with tears, but I cut him off anyway. 
“You don’t understand!  How could you?!” 
He falls silent, looking stricken, but after a moment he nods.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry, I just mean that, now that I know how much you’re hurting - “ my heart constricts in my chest, and tears threaten my eyes again.  Asra winces, as if he felt it too, and then whispers again, “I’m so sorry.” 
Silence hangs between us for a long moment, and I stare resolutely out to sea, unable to meet his eyes or even look at him now.  I’m afraid if I do, everything will spill out, even more than it already has.  What would I do if this dam broke now?  Cry?  Scream?  Kick and claw and bite in fury?  Or just collapse on myself, the void in my center at last causing the rest of me to buckle? 
Finally Asra speaks again.  “I know you want to be alone right now.  I don’t want to hurt you by staying when you don’t want me to.”  His voice cracks, and I can tell he’s still crying, but he’s doing his best to hold himself together.  He’s trying to be strong for me.  I hug myself tighter, feeling guilt curl up in my gut, but I can’t bring myself to offer any sort of reassurance. 
“Do you mind if Faust stays with you?” he asks.  “She can keep an eye on you, keep you company, until you’re ready to come home?”  There’s a fearful tone as he asks. I think he’s worried I won’t want to come home.  I can’t speak at all, now.  I close my eyes and nod.   
A moment later I hear Asra’s footsteps retreating across the sand, and then I feel a nudge against my leg.  Friend?  Faust’s voice is small and tentative.   
“Oh, Faust,” I whisper, sinking to my knees.  The sobs I’ve been burying well up again, and suddenly my eyes are spilling over.  I curl up, folding into myself, press my head into the sand and grab my hair in my fists.  But it doesn’t help.  It’s all coming up - the pain, the rage, the terror and guilt and worthlessness and what does it matter, who cares about magic or the Arcana or saving the world if this feeling, this horrible dark emptiness, remains?  What’s the point of being brought back to life if this pain is still waiting for me?  The knife in my heart twists again, and I am sobbing - wretched, screaming sobs.  Everything hurts so much. 
I feel so alone. 
Then I feel a slight squeeze around my shoulders.  Faust must have crawled up without my even noticing.  She doesn’t say anything, but her weight coiled on my back is comforting, and her scales feel cool on the back of my neck.  Ever so slightly, the pain loosens its grip. 
I don’t know how long I stay there, weeping in the sand, night deepening around me as the waves start creeping back in with the tide.  But Faust stays with me through it all, until eventually the sobs begin to wane.  I wipe my eyes and try to bring my hitching breath back under control. 
“You must think I’m pretty pathetic, huh?” 
Strong. 
“I’m not strong.  I just spent all night crying on a beach for no reason.  I don’t understand why I feel this way - there’s nothing so wrong that it should hurt so bad.  It doesn’t make any sense!”  My heart constricts, with each word, and I drop my head back down.  “I am pathetic.” 
Faust bops the side of my head with her snout as she repeats again, Strong! 
“How am I strong, Faust?” I mumble despondently, face buried in my hands. 
This time her touch is gentle as she boops my cheek.  Still fighting. 
I close my eyes as tears threaten to overtake me again.  But they feel a little different, now.  Less harsh.  Or maybe I just feel less cold inside. 
Eventually I wipe my eyes and straighten up slowly.  My muscles creak in protest after being so tightly wound for so long.  Ultimately I just flop back on the sand, stretching my limbs and arcing my back until something pops and I sink back with a groan.  Overhead the sky is alight with stars, a great river of light splashing across the sky. 
A breeze passes over me from the sea, and I slowly sit up, pulling my scarf tighter around me as a shiver. My eyes feel heavy and swollen from all that crying, and I’m thirsty, and I still hurt.  But as Faust curls up on the top of my head and I look out to sea, I can almost forget about it for a moment.  The lights of Vesuvia glow in the distance, illuminating the docks and the shore as the surf breaths over the sand, sea foam the color of starlight above.  Moonlight reflects on the crests of the waves.  In the distance, the Lazaret is visible as a silhouette against the stars, but for a moment it lacks its menace.  Then a shooting star streaks over its towers, and even it becomes beautiful… even if only for a moment. 
Better? 
“Things have gotten better, haven’t they?  We’ve all endured so much but, we’re still here…” I glance down at my forearms, at faint lines of old scars.  “Not the same.  But we’re here.” 
I look out over the ocean again for a long moment, breathing in the water’s heartbeat as the waves move in and out.  Finally I sigh.  “Let’s go home.” 
When I return to the shop, I’ve barely closed the door behind me before Asra rushes out of the backroom.  “MC!” he exclaims, and though he looks like he wants to rush toward me, he restrains himself.  I can tell he’s watching for cues on how to act, in case I still don’t want to be touched.  I appreciate it even as I feel guilty, and I can’t bring myself to look at him for more than a moment.  His fluffy hair is extra tousled, as if he’s been running his hands through it, the way he does when he’s upset.  
Worse, he’s clearly been crying, maybe as much as I have been… “I’m sorry,” I mumble. 
His arms wrap around me, hesitantly, and when I lean into him he pulls me close, crushing me against his chest and leaning his head against mine.  “I’m sorry,” he says.  “You don’t have to be.” 
“I don’t know why I have to be this way.  I don’t know why it has to hurt so much.” 
His hands grip me tighter as he begins to sway, rocking my gently.  “I don’t know either.  I wish I could make it go away.  I know I can’t - “ he pulls back, just enough to meet my eyes.  “I know I can’t really understand what it feels like, but… I can feel a little of it.  Like an echo, here.”  He touches his mark gently.  “I can only imagine what it’s like to have to carry all of it.” 
Unable to speak, I bury my face in his chest, and he holds me again.  “I should have payed better attention,” he whispers.  “I should have realized sooner…I am so sorry, MC.  If I could have helped you - “ 
“You did help,” I say, squeezing him gently.  “And maybe if I’d told you all that sooner, you could have helped more.” 
“What can I do?  How can I help you when you feel this way?”  His voice is breaking with emotion - pain, hope, devotion.  My heart swells with it. 
“I don’t know, Asra, I - I guess, just.  This.  Listen to me.  Hold on to me.  Tell me I’m not - I’m not alone.”  How many tears can I cry in one night? 
Suddenly his hands are on my shoulders, and he’s looking me right in the eye.  He’s crying again too.  “You’re not alone.  I’m here.  I’ll always be right here.”  Without breaking eye contact, he slides his right hand down, until it rests lightly over my heart. 
I smile, and do the same to him, until we stand together, holding each others’ hearts in our hands.  “I’m here too,” I whisper.   
Faust winds around my torso, flickering her tongue lightly against Asra’s fingers as she squeezes me tightly.  Not alone. 
I laugh, sniffle, and the three of us hold on to each other, swaying in the quiet darkness of the shop.  The familiar scents surround me - drying herbs, wood smoke - Asra, who always smells a little like the sea - and though I still hurt, I feel okay.  
Maybe a part of me will always hurt.  This black void inside has always been there... maybe there it will always remain.   
Maybe that’s okay, too. 
“Hmm?” Asra questions. 
Oh. I hadn’t realized I’d said it out loud.  Asra’s looking at me curiously, eyes still wet but shining again.  “I was just thinking, even with things are really bad, like tonight…” I pause, not quite sure how to articulate what I am feeling.  Asra waits patiently, rubbing my shoulders as I ponder.  I think back on the way the sea looked, shining beneath an ocean of stars.  “Even when everything hurts, there is still something precious.  I mean, even tonight - you should have seen the shore tonight.  Even the Lazaret looked beautiful.” 
He winces at that, looking away, old guilt shadowing his eyes.  “That’s hard to imagine.”   
“It was,” I assure him.  “There was even a shooting star.” 
“Oh?”  He looks at me, and his face softens in a smile.  “I wish I could have seen it.”  Then he grins and says, “Maybe there’ll be more!  Want to go to the roof and see?” 
I smile for what seems like the first time in a long time.  “I’ll make tea if you grab blankets.” 
Laughing, Asra pulls me into a hug and twirls me around, before taking my hand and leading me upstairs.   
Later, as he, Faust and I huddle together under a quilt, cradling steaming mugs of tea as we point out constellations, I know that it’ll be all right.  I’ve spent my whole life fighting off this void - this hurt has always been there, and I doubt it’ll ever really go away.  But when it comes back, and I forget what it’s like to feel anything different, I can remember tonight. 
I’ll remember that I’m still alive.  I’m not alone.  That there are beautiful things in even the worst places.  I’ll remind myself that even if I can’t feel it right now, I will be able to again.   
I’ll remember sitting on the roof with someone who loves me, wishing on shooting stars.   
I’ll remember that it gets better.
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My Story
This will be mildly depressing but its my story and why i am how i am and all ive gone through it twenty short years
So I will be twenty soon and people keep wondering and asking or praising me for surviving trauma. I’ve decided to explain in full and un censored detail my process, what i went through, my thoughts during it, the effects and how it left me. There are mentions of abuse, sexual assault, depression, domestic violence, suicide, and very dark thoughts so be warned. My memory is also unreliable as i am never sure what is real and what is not before the age of thirteen so im doing my best to recall everything in order, ages wont be exact as i try to repress and just out right can recall them.
My trauma started roughly when i was 7-9. I recall laying in bed and hearing my parents violently shout at one another, about what i cant recall, and crying because i was afraid of an unknown danger. I remember a rift being made in my house, me being lashed out at, and my mother rarely being around the house. Now before i go further i was a shy child who had little friends, i have one younger brother who is two years younger than I, most of my days, or what i can recall, was in my room reading and later playing on my ds once i got one while rarely going outside to play aka catching frogs and bugs. i dont recall much from when it started, i was a smart kid so i think i knew something was wrong but wasnt emotionally or mentally ready to deal with it. 
Now, i was a big daddys girl but i also loved my mom dearly because well shes my mom. One of my clearest memories from this when i realized it wasnt right was my mom showing up to the house and me being so excited since i hadnt seen her in so long i let her in, she hugged me and my father instantly yelled at me and scolded me. i think the next thing was me being sent to my room but thats where it ends. i remember feeling so confused because shes my mom why cant she be home? why shouldnt she be allowed inside? why cant i be happy to see her? thats the last clear memory besides us getting kicked out of that house due to rent not getting paid.
I remember my mom trying to keep calm and smile and she told me “we have to keep stuff packed because we will be moving soon and need to be organized”. Looking back im really happy she tried to keep little me happy and from knowing.She may not have been the best mom but she certainly loved me then as well as my brother. When we were kicked out i recall my dad not being as in a rush as my mom, he seemed tired and to say flat out like he couldnt care less. I was packed up with a few of my things, the rest in a storage unit including my entire child hood, and moved to a different state. 
Me, my family and our dog were moved in with my mothers mom who was by far not the best but i couldnt do much as i was maybe 11-13? I remember her blaming my father for things he didnt do, i remember yelling and violent arguing between my father and my moms boyfriend (my mother and father had separated if you couldnt guess), my mom in the middle yelling at them to not do it infront of the kids. Eventually we moved from there after my grandmother had called the police on them for some reason (i recall it just being a warning or something nothing serious). My mom had broken up with her boyfriend and moved with us, i shared a room with her and my brother shared a room with my father, at this point we had our original dog and 3 dog sisters who we loved dearly (we being me, my mom, and brother). i remember starting to feel what i would come to realize was the beginning of my depression as well as my anxiety, that i had since i was little, beginning to get much worse. I was bullied harshly during this time and barely got by in most of my glasses because of what happened in that house.
i dont know how long i lived in that house but it wasnt incredibly long, 2 years maybe? i know it was half of middle school there with a year or so at my grandmothers. The first little while was calm, i hardly remember much from when we moved in so im assuming it was. I recall playing wii with my mom and watching tv siting of the floor eating pizza, followed by me and my brother playing the wii version of sims ( i recall him learning how to beat the rng and us never playing again). My next clearest memory is more yelling and banging. Violence. Now i wasnt a stupid kid and was much more brazen than i am now, i was a child genius who could quickly deduce what was wrong. I would get into the arguments, stand between my mom and dad to keep him from hitting her, yell that i wouldnt move or let him touch her. yell at him so much my throat hurt. One of my most clear memories is my mom yelling at me to call the police and as i dialed she came in and locked the door telling me to just not. i checked if she was okay and recall hugging her and just siting there afraid not fully being able to understand.
At some point my dad had enough of me and my mom and threw us out of the house, throwing our things as we sat on the bed of her truck, even throwing our two of the 3 dog sisters at us while we waited for the police, now what happened after this makes me realize just how manipulated and emotionally abused i was. My dad convinced me to come home, leaving my mom at my grandmothers. he convinced me my mom was evil and manipulated me using the state i was in to take me from my mom. he talked badly about my mom constantly and eventually his girlfriend moved in. his girlfriend was as bad as him and i recall feeling unwanted. i have a scar on my arm that makes me recall how brazen and unafraid i was at times. The scar was breaking up a fight her dog had started, it attacked my dog sister and she told me to stay out of it as my dog probably started it, i got in the middle picked up her dog, it scratching me deeply across my upper arm and shoved it into her chest. i picked up my dog and took her to my room. i was still bullied during this time, faced the manipulation at home, and started becoming suicidal.
Now this next part is something im not proud of but shows just how far i was into this manipulation and how far i came. My father kid napped me. Him and his girlfriend decided they wanted to move back to her two daughters and away from my mom. my brother was apprehensive but i was a mindless puppet so i did as told as thats what i was raised to do. we packed up in a 48 hour period, me not sleeping for that entire period and were getting ready to leave. i had this large white monkey i had since i was little, it towered over me and i loved it, his name was marvin. i mentioned why we werent bringing him and that we had to because he was our family and even got a bit teary eyed over it my dad said “if you want it that bad we can leave you and dakota (my dog sister) and you can sit on your ass until your mom swings her ass around to get you”, that terrified me so i reluctantly agreed and was taken to a completely different state yet again with the question of “why would he leave me”. i recall not enjoying my time there and my father limiting my mom talking to me so much i dont really recall much more that a phone call, i was kept out of school for a while until one day police came and told them my mom was taking us back. i left with barely any of my childhood possessions yet again with my dad treating it as her taking us by force, i said goodbye to my dogs and promised i would see them again, i never did and never will.
the trip back i screamed, argued and fought my mom and not yet step father. my dad manipulated me well i guess. i calmed down when we got back to my now home state and got the last dog sister ginny, my mom asked my grandmother to watch her, and headed to my moms home. i had trouble suddenly adapting to a some what better environment where i wasnt treated like a mindless child. i was so damaged and i dont think they knew to the extent. 
In these years i was verbally abused by my mom, step father, and brother but they were so much better than my dad despite it. i was reaching my peak depression and had attempted to commit suicide by this point but had failed. at some point i recall them “cleaning” my room, as due to losing nearly everything i owned i clung to things, and burning what they deemed trash it made me have a break down because well just look at what had happened previously to things i owned. in that period i was locked out in the cold, verbally and emotionally abused, treated like i was a piece of shit and that i was worthless and i believed that for so long. my brother had hit me a few times and even started encouraging my suicidal mind set, my parents (which will not be my mother and step father) said it was just him being my brother. Due to my previous trauma i was desperate for friends and to be liked and it have social interactions it led me into some very very toxic friendships and relationships. i had someone who stole my phone and said she just wanted to see what my number was, but had texted my mother iw as stay for a study session when i wasnt. i got home and was brutally yelled at for lying and they yelled the entire time while forcing me to give them all my passwords then calling me out for lying when i gave them the wrong email password by mistake. in the following time period they would check everything i owned, i had to privacy or sense of self. even to this day i hate people touching and looking at my stuff, im still so paranoid ill get in trouble for something. during this time is also when i was first sexually assaulted.
Yes that said first as it happened twice. they both abused my prior trauma that made me a selective mute that disassociates when in stressful situations. i wont go in depth but even years later i couldnt be in the same room with the first without being sick to my stomach. the second was into my junior year of highschool. between that time and the first i was emotionally manipulated, attempted suicide again and failed, became even more depressed and suicidal, and developed more toxic friendships that i now realize only hurt me as they playfully bullied me and only one of that group, who never did, remains my friend or well my best friend as she stayed by me despite not knowing any of my past. i was manipulated into entering a long distance fwb relationship that ruined a good friendship but also helped make me more stubborn towards people who tried to do that. the verbal abuse still happened during this time and my brother got to the point of doing it the worse. my junior sexual assault ended with us breaking up mutually but him getting such a hate towards me that he tried to ruin my life by turning any “friend” against me and brutally harassing me until a girl i respect so much stood up for me, shes getting married and im excited for her and happy i met her despite us not talking. half way through my junior year i began to realize how bad the people i was around most of the time were for me, so i stopped hangin out with them and started selectively being around people who engaged me in conversation and who actually included me. i was still struggling through the tail end of my suicidal spell and my awful depression as well as  ptsd, having nightly flashbacks that often left my crying and having break downs where i just hated myself so much and hated that i couldnt be normal and happy and not annoy my friends with this shit, it caused me to never talk about it and it made it so worse going through it all alone with only my fucked mental state.
my senior year i gained some self confidence and started accepting myself. midway through i had a bad relapse and nearly succeed in killing myself but managed to yell at myself to not as i was holding a handful of pills to my mouth, not even an inch from it. that was my last attempt. 
i struggled still, had relapses, fought with my own head without anyone knowing as it told me they didnt care and i was a burden so i should deal with it by myself as no one deserved that. i hated when who i told felt so bad for me and wished it hadnt happened because it happened and i cant change that no one can and i dont like being seen as sorry and weak. 
over the years until now i tried endlessly and hard to build my self back up and gain some sense of self and try to begin my recovery.
i still relapse, i still think about killing myself, i still have massive anxiety and panic attacks. but im alive and i survived. 
I count the days between relapses, it happens left often. Im covered in scars but no one can see the ones i purposefully caused anymore. I hurt and ach and want to be cared for and want to be loved and have people around me who care for me and who value me. Im working on building myself a supportive circle of friends and trying to become as stable as i can be with what i have.
My family says i dont need therapy and refuse to try to help me get it so when i move out its my first priority, i have ever lasting mental scars from my trauma that wont ever go away but im slowly learning to live with it and becoming proud of who i am.
something i forgot to mention is yes i was hit as a child. to this day i freak out and panic and will throw myself to the ground if it appears someone is about to hit me. i cant hand yelling or loud noises, im afraid of people and crowds, i have trust issues, i speech impediment, things i cant do because of the scars of my trauma.
now you may be asking how im alive? why i still keep living? how i got through this alone? honestly i cant answer the last one because i dont even know, but the first two i can roughly explain.
i didnt ever kill my self because right before i would i developed a concept of proving people wrong, that i belonged in this world as i had already survived nearly dying at 5 due to an allergic reaction. then as i got older i made the deal that if i made it to 18 that would be enough, im turning 20 soon. Now a days i have people and things to live for. When i think of killing my self i think of my friends L and M (not real names of course), i think of my dogs, my guinea pigs, my dreams, my goals, all the things i want to do. Ive become a role model to others now so i cant just die on them and give up on them. I cant help people and help others going through what i did, i cant be there for the people i care about to ensure they live and make it too, i cant be there to give them what i didnt have; someone who cared and loves them.
ive felt unloved my entire life and it hurts knowing the people who are supposed to love you apparently dont if they do what they do. it hurts seeing people going through what i went through because i know how much that hurts and how over bearing it can be. My trauma made me not want to make the same choices and hurt others in the way they ones who hurt me did. It made me not want to bring life into this world unless i was sure i wouldnt make the same mistakes. It made me crave to be loved and have people by my side and it gave me a weird but reasonable goal: Live a life i can be truly happy and safe in, a life without fear. 
i still struggle daily but im getting by and im getting there, im trying to become someone who i can be proud of, someone who can and will make a difference even if its saving one person.
i fight every day to live and have been for a while, hell i cried on my 18th birthday because well i didnt think i would last that long or be alive to see it.
Im alive, and i will continue to be to show others facing and feeling what i have felt that you can do it. you can live and thrive and fight for your life and end up better than you are or were and better than those who hurt you. Ill stay alive to act as a pair of open arms to those who are in my place, to give them someone who cares, to teach them they dont have to do it alone or hate themselves for wanting to depend on others. 
Im here because i feel i need to be to break the cycle and prove i deserve to live as do they and as do you.
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A little bit about Me
It’s 1:21am on a Monday morning and I can’t sleep. That’s nothing new. Sleep is one of many things I’ve fought with over my lifetime, along with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, sexual assault, losing and finding myself over and over again. Don’t get me wrong, we all have our battles. I don’t think I have it any worse or any better than anybody else, but I do think I may have analyzed and understood its depths a little better. All my life I’ve asked “why?”, and just when I think I’ve solved one problem, another one arises. I never stop questioning. It’s a blessing and a curse.
To be honest, I think it’s mostly a curse. Trying to understand in a world that is under no obligation to be understood. Trying to make sense of chaos. I am grateful, though, that I see things the way that I do. You’ll begin to understand why.
I think I’m fairly special. I think we should all think that of ourselves; if we don’t, who will? I’m learning the true meaning of speaking things into existence and along with that, the value of patience. We underestimate the power of our minds. We’re raised to ignore a lot of the signs and signals our bodies and the universe give us. We’re smarter than we think we are. I hope times change and we relearn the importance of communicating with our inner self, and working from the inside outward. Filling our cup before we try to pour water for someone else, and replenishing our own supply when we’ve run dry.
A little bit about Me.
I want to tell you the good things as well as the bad but I have to be honest, I don’t have very many happy memories from about age 12 to 19. I had a wonderful childhood with my two older sisters, my younger brother, and my best friend who lived next door. All of the laughs and love we shared have lumped into one heartwarming, longing memory of mine.
Most of my memories are sad. I read something once a long time ago that explained how humans retain the strongest memories when they felt the most emotion (hence, why I still vividly remember walking out of the school bathroom on the first day of grade nine with toilet paper stuck to my shoe because I was SO embarrassed, I haven’t let myself live it down). I have felt a lot of intense sadness, confusion, apathy, and anger in my lifetime. I’m not so depressed anymore because I’ve come to know myself very well through all of the ups and downs, but we’ll get there.
The first time I cut myself was in grade five. I took my mom’s sewing scissors to my wrist. I knew they were sharp enough because one of my sisters had accidentally cut herself with them years before. I don’t recall feeling particularly sad until after I drew blood; I think initially I was just curious.
My curiosity (and borderline fascination) with pain and death stuck with me from a very young age. When I would hear of deaths in the news I would wait until my parents had gone to bed to get online and read about it. I watched horrors and thrillers and crime shows. I wondered what would come after life and I concluded that it must be eternal blackness. I didn’t believe in God or an afterlife because life was too painful and cruel to think that there was some greater good purpose behind it all.
The night before my grade eight graduation I got my first period. Everything went downhill quickly after that. I’m specifically mentioning the beginning of puberty because I think it’s connected to my fall into depression, and it’s something I’ll probably blog about later. Scientists neglected to research women’s health until recent years with our progression towards equality. I think puberty effects young women’s emotional health much more than we give credit for. Even still, at 21 years of age, I tussle with suicidal thoughts for one week out of every month. Without proper sex education and open discussion about mental illness, our daughters are in danger. The dawn of puberty was a very dark time for me.
I remember the very first time my laugh felt hollow. I was in class with my best friend, we were joking around the way we always did and we laughed until tears but something didn’t feel right inside of me. I didn’t feel happy, I didn’t experience any joy. I felt empty. I started relating to dark music and depression blogs on Tumblr where I’d find posts that seemed to describe the way I felt better than I could. Posts such as someone taking off a smiling mask to reveal their “true self”, a face of agonizing despair. I began to draw as an outlet for my overwhelming emotions. That and basketball were the only things keeping me sane.
When I was in grade nine, articles surfaced about someone my age from another province who took her own life. It stuck with me ever since. I read every article there was to read, and following that I researched the most effective ways to kill oneself. Shortly thereafter, I tried to drown myself.
When suicide didn’t work, I tried to take control over something easier to grasp. I stopped eating. I consciously ate a granola bar every third day. I collapsed on the basketball court due to malnutrition and was taken to a dietician. I saw her a few times and convinced everyone that I was cured. Now, I was eating to feed my families concerns, just to run away and spit/puke up much of my food.
I hated myself. I hated what I saw in the mirror. I sat up until 4 and 5 in the morning every night staring at the wall, inaudibly sobbing, cutting my inner thighs just to feel something. Eventually, I stopped crying at all. I stopped feeling altogether. I was perpetually numb, I was angry and confused and waiting for it all to end. One thought ran through my brain all day, every. single. day. “I'd rather be dead.”
I got caught up in a dead-end relationship throughout high school. My friends and family would ask me what I was doing and I would dismiss their concern because I really thought I was in love. Looking back now, I don’t recognize the girl I was in that relationship and at that time in my life. I endured a series of unfortunate events that all convinced me that I was worthless, nothing more than a piece of meat for a man’s pleasure. I was used, abused, manipulated.
I’ve always been afraid to write or talk about these things in fear of hurting the people who hurt me. That’s really fucked up, actually, that after all the pain they’ve caused me I will still worry about their wellbeing more than my own. With that said, my suffering doesn’t dissipate the love I had for these people. I have a soft and forgiving heart, but it is beaten and bruised and it’s ready to be free. Sexual abuse has haunted me for 8 years now. It has affected me in many ways that, when I find the bravery, I will discuss later in order to shed light on just how harmful it is to its victims. It’s not always a drunken encounter; in fact, quite often sexual assault occurs within relationships. Looking the first person you ever loved in the eyes and choking out the words “you’re raping me” for them to carry on until you black out will inevitably change a person.
I didn’t allow myself time to think about what had happened to me. I didn’t process my pain, I refused to accept what had happened. Instead, I fell in love again, this time intensely. This was a love I’d never known; one of respect, admiration, passion, lust, and everything else wonderful. When this was abruptly stripped from me, I mourned the loss of both of my relationships at once. I felt so small and so alone. I stopped eating, attending school, sleeping, socializing. I hooked up with strangers to feel like for a moment, someone wanted me. I was lost, and that was nobody’s fault but my own because I constantly relied on other people to provide me happiness that I couldn’t find within. I tried to kill myself twice more.
I am lucky to be alive. Lucky and so thankful. I don’t want to detail my suicide attempts because the people who are likely to resonate the most with this post are the people who, similarly to my past self, will make a mental note of those details for future reference. I am absolutely not here to tell you how to hurt yourself; I’m here for the exact opposite. I’m here to tell you why I thank God everyday that it never worked for me. I’m here to tell you that you are not alone, and to help you interpret feelings you might not understand yet. I’m here to tell you how everything hurts until one day it doesn’t anymore, and suddenly you realize you’ve been living a more fulfilling life than you’ve ever known without even recognizing your own strength. I proudly remind myself of how strong I am. I’ve survived years of fighting with myself mentally and physically. I’ve made it to 21 years old when I didn’t think I’d even see 16, and moreover, i’ve learned to count my blessings and appreciate the sick, twisted, strikingly beautiful life I’ve been given.
So that’s a little bit about me. That’s the short story of why I’ve become who I’ve become -- a hopeful young lady with endless potential, a deep understanding of pain and a burning desire to help others feel less alone. Throughout everything I’ve been through I looked for answers to wherein lies some fleeting desire to keep living, and I’ve finally found it. Maybe i’m just venting out all the things I’ve been afraid to say aloud. Maybe this is just free therapy for me. Hopefully at least one person will relate and find comfort in knowing they are not alone in their struggles.
My posts won’t be this dark in the future. Besides, looking back gets you nowhere. We’re looking forward with optimism. This is my story of love and loss, disconsolation and vitality, confusion and clarity. This is my story of recovery.
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lifeslattes · 6 years
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Writing is the only thing I ever felt I could be good at. Not self-pitying, but rather, at least when I was younger, spoken truthfully, factually, with intense focus. Like look at me! Only good at writing! Nothing else! So no distractions! I have to be just have to be a great writer then! Then months of no writing, school writing (which to be fair, is barely writing, and certainly not creative or soulful, as much as I may try) and then more moping, and self-pity, and then one day, beautiful day, blue skies, on the edge of something beautiful and hopeful, hopefully lovely, and I return. Maybe like King once commented, you need your desk, or maybe I just needed time alone, time away, or maybe I am really going insane and feel, subconsciously, like I should document it. Or maybe, the world is like a pool, seemingly bottomless, infinite, and I, a mere stone, have suddenly been cast into it and am sinking uninhibited, whirling even-to the great depths. Time is passing, I am passing. I am fucking depressed at the thought. Yet, when writing again I am not. Even if it is just angsty bullshit that no one will ever read and ten years time will cringe at my own introspection. Maybe I am writing so him or others, will see me, hear me (damn de Beauvoir at the back of my mind). What I mean to say is something I always momentarily forget when I am not writing, when I am not engaged in the kind of rapid thought and rapid action that accompanies writing, and the act of writing, and that is that I am never myself except when I am writing. The universe, quasi-spiritual if you wish, pauses itself, just for me, when I am at the key board, when my mind is there, in a space beyond reality. For a brief moment, it is like AHA I get it all, I understand this worthless turmoil that is life and the human existence (so much angst, I apologize). 
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a-writers-block · 3 years
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𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬
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[7] The Reader and The Rebel
“You what?” Gio asks in an exasperated tone.
After a long walk away from the market and introductions (without revealing Gio’s real identity), Rama slowly broke down the details on why he’s been out of the palace and wandering off alone.
Rama seems to doubt himself as an ideal king for the kingdom. Every other fabric of his existence isn’t what his people need, it’s the strength to protect them from the evil that lurks on the surface. It was a prophecy a long time ago that three wives will bore children that would keep the peace in the kingdom. One of these children, Rama, shall lead an army and eliminate the demon, Ravana.
But how could Rama ever do such a thing without the physical strength of a true warrior? Ever since he was a child, he was the perfect son. As he grew up, he began to feed himself with words of the gods and got a hold of a formidable strength but one day, he suddenly felt ill and weakened. His body changed as if a sorcery happened.
Since then, everyone in the kingdom was terrified as soon as they laid their eyes on the chosen lad.
Since then, his wife never looked at him the same as before. Even with her kind gestures towards him, he can sense her doubt of him as a ruler and a savior. A sudden flash of her screaming as he pleaded Rama to save her from the monstrous figure of Ravana came into his mind. He wanted to save her… but he couldn’t.
“No one in the land deserves a leader as such and thus, here I am. Trying to find my ulterior purpose.” He stopped walking and sat on a dusty seat. He looked up and saw the city above them, “The prophecy wasn’t valid enough to believe in. I am no king, nor a warrior, nor a savior, but a mere human now.” He took a deep breath and washed off the feeling.
Gio, now calmed down from the story, stared at him in remorse. According to the poem, the author sculpted Rama as a tall man with impressive features such as deep-toned muscles and limbs, a massive jaw and ample chest, with defined collarbone, a well-proportioned frame, big bright eyes that is sweet and divine, and a soft skin with a lustrous dark complexion.
His walk is firm and powerful that everyone respects and follows. He is confident with himself and is trained to become a warrior.
But without the page of his story, Rama cannot have all those things.
Gio slumped next to him.
“Don’t say such a thing. You are a king. Your purpose is to save the kingdom from its impending doom. No one can ever do that except you.”
“Look at me.” Rama pointed out, “Is this what an ideal king, who’ll save the kingdom, should look like? How can I help them with my weak bones and structure? I can’t even protect my wife.” Rama’s voice cracked. The picture of his wife, Sita, being abducted by Ravana was still fresh in his mind.
“You might have lost your physical strength but can’t you see? Your virtue as a king is still inside you. Nothing in this kingdom needs more than a person with the will to protect them. What you have inside is what matters.”
“You don’t understand! You’re being idealistic on how to end this misery,” Rama rests his hand on his chest, “I’m trying to be practical. I cannot save this kingdom nor my wife with just my virtues.”
“But protecting them is your duty. You’re running away from your destiny. Is this how’ll you pay the gods for creating you? They made you with a valid reason and now, you’re keeping yourself from doing it? You’re leaving them on their own?”
“What do you know about my responsibilities? You don't know how big this is for me. And without a strength to fight? You know nothing about my struggles.”
A beat.
Gio laughs sarcastically, “Sir, I believe I have my own responsibilities, too. How could you insult me with my lack of knowledge about yours? Do you know mine? You know nothing! I don’t have much knowledge myself but look at me,” he pointed to himself, “I’m here now, walking on eggshells as I try to figure things out. You don’t know anything about me.”
A beat.
“I think you’re leaving them because they can’t accept the changes in you.” Gio continues.
That made Rama think for a moment and then look at the reader dead in the eyes, “Isn’t it unfortunate that what they used to see in someone will just suddenly disappear?” A hint of distress in his voice.
“I was scared of how they would react to my changes. It seems like... they only wanted me in use for something. I was the perfect son after all. I followed every rule and prophecy in my life. But will it all make sense if I have nothing?”
A beat.
Gio didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t just convince Rama to embrace his duty as a king with this talk. The man is at the bottom of his doubts as a ruler that they interrupted his decisions. Rama wants to help the kingdom; he just doesn’t know it.
Rama began to walk away from him.
“W-Wait! Where are you going?” Gio followed his pace.
Shades of trees overshadowed them as they went into the depths of the woods. Gio, drowned in his thoughts, didn’t realize that they were already near a river and beside it stood an enormous tree.
“Calm myself down.”
Gio was rooted in his place as he stared at the tree in awe. Rama sat beside the tree and started washing his face with the cold water from the river calming himself down from his outburst earlier.
Rama sighed.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“It’s alright, sir. We gotta vent out once in a while.” Gio shrugs.
“It’s actually my first time doing that.” Rama chuckles, “It’s actually felt nice.”
“I, for myself, do venting as a hobby.”
Rama’s brows furrowed, “Come to think about it, we’ve been talking about my life but none was shared with yours.”
Gio smiles, “It's an unbelievable story, trust me, sir. But one thing’s I wanna assure you, I’m a friend.”
“I know.” A confident voice laced between Rama’s words.
“You know?” Gio jokingly asked.
“I’m still an incarnation of Vishnu. I can tell.”
A beat.
A sudden whoosh of the cold breeze washes Gio’s face. The sun is almost done setting. The shade of the blue sky darkened as stars became visible in the skies. The moon lit behind the enormous tree that had Gio asking.
“Did you grow this tree on your own?” His voice was curious.
Rama answered, “No. It happened that I saw the tree just standing there when I went out to hunt for food. Since then, I started to care about it.” Rama smiles, “Once, my wife got jealous of whatever I come back here for. If she only knew…” Sadness crossed his eyes, “If only I could tell her now…”
“You can.” Gio said, convincingly.
Gio stood up and slapped his hands together and it echoed through the woods.
“Are we having this conversation all over again?”
Gio sighs, “I’ll help. At least let me.”
Rama directed his eyes on Gio and all he could see was a man determined to help him. How could someone be so confident over a situation that is hopeless?
“How?”
Gio began to walk back and forth, a habit he has inherited from his mum when he’s thinking about something. He’s trying to remember Sharma’s words; the prophecy, the process of collecting the pages, his power.
These words are not embedded on a mere paper but objects that reflect the character’s desire.
Desire…?
Objects…?
Strength……
All of a sudden, a low growl echoed through the woods. Screams of terror came after.
Rama recognized that voice. He abruptly stood up and looked around. The moonlight glances between the trees. An ominous wind blew off as magnificent stomps shook the ground.
Sita.
Rama ran through the darkness and searched for the voices. He called out for Sita’s name. Gio, on the other hand, tried to calm him down, “Sir, please. We mustn’t attack without any plans. Besides, in your current state, you’re dead if the monster touches you.”
“But my wife…” He tried to reason out.
“I know but…” In a stroke of a moment, Gio had a realization, “Let me figure something out.”
In a confused and frustrated manner, Rama looked at him as he approached the gigantic tree. Gio’s hands travelled through its magnificent barks searching for something. Something that could complete the story.
Words.
Rama wanted nothing but power to help the kingdom and his wife. If his intuitions were right, the tree that Rama’s been taking care of all this time… symbolizes strength. Rama’s strength. The attachment of the chosen one to the tree makes it believable that the tree contains the lost page.
At that moment as Gio traced the lines on the trees, the moon lit above him. Jackpot.
But the sequence of events happened so fast that the ground once again shook and a gigantic monster was already approaching them. Ten heads popped out of the bright moonlight, arms were strong and firm. One of them was holding Sita.
“Rama!” The demon’s voice boomed.
Rama tried to dodge the demon. He took out his sword and tried to hold it with all of his might. His eyes flared with determination as he ran toward Ravana. But without even putting a lot of effort, the demon slapped Rama off across the trees. The demon laughed.
“I cannot believe the Vishnu entrusted the kingdom to a weakling like you.”
Rama plunges his sword into the ground as he stands with his bruised weak body.
Gio didn’t know what to do. He found the texts but what now? He just stood there and watched as Rama sacrificed himself and kept throwing worthless attacks on the demon. Gio’s heart pulsed. Another set of voices putting him in a stressful and anxious state. Then a ringing sound of Sharma kept playing in his head.
What you do best is the power you shall take a hold onto.
What…What else can he do best except… to read.
The words were meant to be read.
Gio took a deep breath. It’s all or nothing. He began to read the words inscribed on the bark. The tree began to release a golden glow as the words popped out of it. His eyes searched for the movement of light as it passed through the air right behind him.
Rama huffed. Bruises’ color began to darken as he stared with his swollen eyes at the demon who’s trying to force Sita on him. The anger was visible in Rama’s eyes. A sudden electricity washes over Rama’s body. A bright light passes through his skin. He felt light as a feather but strong as a buffalo. His arms and legs thickened, his chest began to take shape, His hands traced every muscle that came into him.
He’s back.
Rama grabs his sword and with a loud growl, he charges towards the confused monster and strikes him on his throat. Just like that, screams came out of the monster’s mouth. Rama pulls down his sword down the monster’s heart. He then cuts off the arm that is holding his wife.
Gio approaches the lady and helps her away from the dead body.
----
As the sun rises, Gio watches Rama and Sita’s retreating figure as he goes back to the kingdom and Sita embarks on her own journey. Gio smiled. Be like Rama, they say. Someone who is virtuous, heroic, and true. Some also say, Be like Sita. Someone who is strong and makes her own destiny.
“I don’t know how it all happened but I’m glad I trusted you. You truly are a great help for me. I cannot thank you enough.” Rama offered Gio a piece of gold.
Gio declined the offer, “Gold is nothing compared to the trust you have given me, Sir.”
Rama looked at him with awe and then smiled.
Gio stills as he felt someone grab the hem of his emerald robe. A child.
Gio leveled the child and smiled which the child returned.
“Thank you.” The child says as he looked at the two characters of the story went their own separate ways. Gio was confused at first but then a realization hit him.
“I am honored to be of your help.”
A chapter closes and once again, Gio embarks to his next quest.
⥺ Chapter 6           Chapter List             Chapter 8 ⭄
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fortheloveofcringe · 3 years
Text
September 25,2020; 11:38 p.m. “A severe case from the introspective saboteur”
I started this year reading a bunch of self-help books under the assumption that I had to be fixed and something was wrong with me.
I though I was going to go crazy this year. There was so much adversity from internal to external and I was just waiting for that moment when I finally snap. Where I lose control of my narratives and just become completely unhinged.
The most challenging part of 2020 was not to drown myself with the thoughts I have with my head. That there was someway not to evade the thinking but there was a way to structure my thoughts to make sense of everything compared to just loathing every conceived idea, bad or good.
I felt like I had the privilege to do this. Some don’t, and this essay isn’t formed in a way where I want you to think that you might be doing something wrong because you haven’t conceived the ideas by yourself. I have been through that rabbit hole and all I can say is, let’s all be thankful that we can think, but sometimes the very thoughts we have stop us from accepting the truth of ourselves and others.
My mission was simple. Figure out where everything was stemming from. Understand why it occurs from time to time and then if possible, cut the roots.
I devoted a sincere amount of time to trace where my actions where coming from, first. The things I talk about, the videos I share and upload, the photos I post, my performance and art pieces, my conversations and interactions with other people, and my conversations and interactions with myself.
It’s a crippling puzzle piece. To trace the pedigree of what makes Hambert the Hambert that you know, then realizing the Hambert that I know and the Hambert that isn’t. I realize this account is actually important but at the same time not something to be stressed out about.
“Who am I?”
“What’s my Identity?”
I had to understand myself first. The question of who am I was very simple to answer. I would go through a day where I would list down the things that were obvious about me. Things that I love and the things that keep me going.
I would list down facts that I know within me without listening to the auditorium of people in my head that formed a probable baseless description of who I was. And that assumption was that I was a “loving” and “caring” person.
The fact scared me. I wasn’t either of those two. I was not loving nor caring. I was a robot programmed to be “nice.”
Although this may sound self-deprecating, I clearly understood the separation between those words. Nice isn’t always pure. Loving and Caring can be harsh. The awareness opened a door of growth.
The thing about me is that I am always self-conscious about how I play a role in the scene of my daily life. The villain role has been my role for years. I was either an asshole for my honesty or a manipulative monster as people would call me. I hated these words. I assume these words were born out of the fact that I always had the truth in my tongue and no one could endure hearing it. People loved lies and niceties.
And I craved acceptance.
I went around my country in my early 20’s hoping to understand people more. In Manila, people were more acclimated to those who know how to portray a role in society, it was like being in a baseball field with tall buildings and traffic and people like you better if you speak and project yourself in a certain elevated way. In Cebu, people were more acclimated to those who are true to themselves because it is exhausting to be around people who pretend. Ultimately what I realized is that practically no one cared if you are or you are not who you are. The energy you give in a space is what mattered.
In my hometown, it’s a combination of both. When you’re in a province, you have to act like a Canadian basically. Canadians are nice but distant people. Too much interaction could lead to you being the soup of the dinner gossip and not interacting at all would be the equivalent of being so incapable of social graces that you become a pariah.
I was confused. My orientation about the world was usually, I’m either one or another. I’m either good or bad. There was no mixture of anything, who am I was blurring out. Because I was either one of those two and most of the times I am the two. This is where I saw myself. I was human. As confused as everybody else.
I think one of the most profound lessons I got from travelling from a young age is that everybody is just meat, organs and bones with stories inside them. I think that’s the most grounding thing I understood, my ego can’t go big because I am meat and bones, I am capable of death and decay, when you die you sort of float around in terms of lingering tales of who we were on Earth. We are tales, the limiting limitless. Even the biggest stars decay. The smallest particle decay. So it really doesn’t matter who you are in society. The role you play is for you to decide. It’s for your energy to decide. Ability will decide and ultimately, you have the choice to let it be influenced by those around you.
Influence was a major chess piece in my identity. From the things and people I hated and loved. There was always a review about it or a whisper from a friend that informed me of how I was to choose whether to like something or not. My identity was built by the endless likes and comments that I got from a post. The first photo I see on my newsfeed. The products under my online cart. The men I swiped right to. It was always a proposition. Always a suggestion by something other than me.
I hated it. It made me ailing to my stomach. Knowing my identity was built not by the things I myself chose but by things that was offered to me by the moment they present themselves. In some level, sure, it could have been my choice, but man do I whisper things to myself when I realized I have never in my life chose for myself. It was like I was  a puppet of the opinions of others on which choices were assumed most excellent, what I should be, better, and what I should associate myself with, only the best. This truly made me lose it.
I had to step back.
I had to stop anything that might influence me.
Anything that would make me not think for myself.
It was even getting harder to do things. When I thought of this ideology, I also started questioning the intentions of what I do. Do I it for myself? or is there someone other than me that I am trying to leave a good impression with. All my life I felt like I was buying the goodwill of others by being some sort of idiotic pleasant mannequin. This, once again made me unravel. It made detest parts of myself even more.
What was I suppose to do now?
All I knew my entire life was to please people. All I know is I wouldn’t survive if I isolate myself, my psychiatrist told me this. The world is truly unkind to those who choose the path of becoming self-possessed. The moment you choose for yourself is the moment you become a monster in the eyes of many. But is this of any importance? to value those who are behind me in knowing myself?
I have to say most of the times I was all alone, not because I chose to be alone, but because even with a bunch of people around me, there was no one else who could fathom the depths of my thoughts as I do to myself. No one could understand it. Sometimes it will be coated by toxic positivity, even be shrugged off by those who I chose to hopefully comprehend the ambiguity that I am. But no one knows the riddle but me. When I communicate, I usually just get disappointed, even with therapists, because people only want to hear what they want to hear. They cluster out information based on what appeals to them. Even the Mormons who I thought would be very open about discussing life has limited comprehension. Everything else is white noise to those who have already painted a poem in their head.
I didn’t exactly know what to do anymore. It felt like driving a car with it’s brakes malfunctioning as you hit a brick wall.
I arrived at a point where nothing excited me. Not anything that I used to find joy with, brings me out of the door. I think the most depressing part was when I realized that when I age each year, even when I try to make something remarkable out of my life, soon enough, after I’m gone from the surface of this giant floating rock in space, it will be worthless because, it will just disappear, the world itself will either burn or those who carry the stories will never make it out of this planet. I keep thinking about the end of time and the inevitable oblivion. Like it’s close to my face. It really all is futile.
The stasis began in the middle of the pandemic. The second wave was much worse. Everyone was believing it was all a hoax which then exposed themselves to the risks without an afterthought. Everyone I knew was suffocating from my usual.
I’m glad I trained myself to be properly alone.
I keep thinking about the nights when I was trying to make sense of what I was realizing before me. I felt that my mind is currently undergoing a transmutation and that I had no one but myself to unload all of my discoveries.
The books I was suddenly reading. The symbols in my dreams and in my waking life. The music, the stories, the myths and the psychological research I was exposed to. I keep on wondering why things were suddenly approaching me. Not is a suggestive way but as if the golden pail to my vast waters of thought was suddenly appearing in my hands.
I see them scattered in my head.
Now the pail is present.
I imagine pouring everything slowly.
The first drops. I’ll begin by stating that in fourth grade, I remember the elated feeling I had when it was time to discuss science, specially when the topic was about the solar system and the planetary compositions of each planet. I started making sense of why my fascinations with space tickled my brain. I longed for the adventure that I might experience. In my mind I could travel to those fields of blue or red, glide on the rings. Hold the stars in my hands and swim through the vastness of the unknown.
Planets were named after mythological Gods and Goddesses. By the time I was in high school, I was always left alone in our apartment by afternoon. I remember my classes were conducted from 6 a.m. to 12 noon. So by the afternoon, I was buzzing from knowledge and wanted more. My mother and I had a recent conversation about how she intentionally created a small library of books back then when I was in my sophomore year. She said besides the role of being a solo parent hindering her to not be able to properly coach us with literacy, it was also in her will to allow us to discover things on our own. My 1 o’clock to dinnertime was composed of 3 things, music, examining my emotions, and then the best part, reading books.
They took me to adventures where my physical plane felt but no consequence was to be faced. It was like being God. To foresee, to advance to the last page or not. To know the ending or not. To start a new venture by opening a page. Live a life of another without actually living it. Pausing, feeling, amusing, thinking and then dreaming.
The Greek and Egyptians were most fragrant to me. The gold in the tombs made me think about design and intention of design. The sculptures of Greek bodies made me think of beauty and the meaning of symbols. I also had a deep romance with horror stories. I love how they made my hair raise. I love the twists and turns, the blood and the ghosts. The moral that life can end at any point.
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becuzimbatman · 6 years
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Roy/Rose Ficlet
Okay so I was drunk when I got the idea and then started writing it while still drunk so pardon the typos but hey, I had the motivation to make it happen so here it is.
The prompt (also by me) is: “HC: When Roy drinks he bums a cigarette off of Rose because it takes the edge off his heroin craving. The two really only understand each other and their abandonment issues/resentment toward their father (figures) by the glow of a lighter in the cold of night.”
Below the cut is the resulting (platonic unless you want it to be something else) ficlet:
      Roy sighed as the familiar emotions of inadequacy and loneliness began to creep into his mind. One shot ago, he felt upbeat, giddy, and perhaps a bit flirty, even. Long ago, he and Karen had defined this perfect feeling between “not drunk enough” and “too drunk” as “Nirvana”. Unfortunately, Roy had agreed to one last round of tequila shots, which had turned the infamous upper into a bit of a downer.
   Normally, Roy knew his limits, but between the weekly NA sessions and the mysterious spike in crime throughout the cold months, he found himself stretched thin and looking for an escape. The bottle brought a warm, happy feeling, but occasionally, the itch for something more potent, more exhilarating crept to the surface of his skin. He had only been attending these meetings for the better part of 5 months, and still feared the threat of a relapse. In this particular moment, he not only felt the itch, but it was coupled with a crippling sense of worthlessness, and all he could understand is that he had to get out. And fast.
   The biting cold greeted him as he exited the T-shaped tower in Jump City. He watched as the waves crashed over the rocks, sending white-capped tides airborne in the shine of moonlight. The several Titan-teams had been gathered on this particular evening to celebrate Robin’s birthday, but the late nights on a small island brought unforgiving winds on this November evening. Roy’s cheeks burned as bright as his hair, although some of his flush could have, admittedly, been from the alcohol he consumed prior.
   “Hey,” the voice from his left startled him. Up until now, he thought he was completely alone outside. He turned to the sound and was greeted by the sound of the white-haired beauty, Rose Wilson. With a modesty that Roy Harper could never admit to having without alcohol in his system, he realized that he had perhaps been a bit over the top in his flirting with Rose lately, and actually felt embarrassed for being so blatantly over the top with his advances.
   “Hey,” he replied, as casually as he could. As much as he admired, respected, and perhaps even feared his comrade, he did not want to show the conflicting feelings he held inside. As he drew closer, he noticed that when Rose brought her hand to her lips, a faint glow emitted just beyond her fingertips. A cigarette! He concluded. He managed to swallow the lump in his throat as he came to stand next to her, but anxiety and tell-tale shake of his hand when he waved to her contradicted his smooth voice and confident poise. “What brings you out here?”
   Rose considered him for a moment, noting the archer’s stance, but also his expression and demeanor, which betrayed that he was not quite his usual self. “The crowd just got to be a little much for me,” she replied finally. She took a long drag of her cigarette before examining the redhead again. She saw that his gaze, at least from what she could assume his eyes were looking at behind his mask, was directed toward the cancer-stick dangling between her finger tips. She tipped it towards him in offering, and he only hesitated a second before uncrossing his arms and reaching for the cigarette. “Every so often, I just feel a bit suffocated by large amounts of people… you know?”
   “No,” Roy admitted, perhaps a bit too quickly as he exhaled the nicotine-smoke. Ever the extrovert, Roy honestly couldn’t relate to the insecure admission offered by his usually tough-skinned ally. However, the alcohol in his system prevented him from pretending otherwise, and before he could consider a tactful, emotionally-considerate reply, he added: “Actually, I rather prefer to be in a large group of people than be given too much time to myself.”
   Rose huffed as she snatched the cigarette back from the ever-aggravating archer. She inhaled deeply as she brought the cigarette to her lips, staring out beyond the crashing point of the waves. “Well, then what brings you out here then if you’re so much better around people?” Despite her frustration, she tipped her hand towards Roy once more, and he eagerly took the joint back into his own, larger hands.
   “Honestly?” he countered. He paused as he took an even longer drag from the cigarette. He felt the itch under his skin subside as he released the smoke trapped in his lungs, even letting his eyes flutter closed from the sheer relief of his action. He took Rose’s undivided attention and lack of reply as a sign to continue. “I just… suddenly felt so small. Like, that despite everything I’ve gone through, I just simply didn’t matter.”
   Her gaze snapped toward him as he spoke. Normally, Roy was so much more… casual? Aloof? Confident? That the sudden admission of his insecurities shocked her into silence. Beyond that, she noticed that he could not look at her as he spoke. Instead, his own stare was fixed straight ahead of him, seemingly peering off even further than the crashing waves. This time she did not snatch the dangling cigarette from his limp grip. “What makes you say something like that?” She probed. Perhaps the redhead had more depth to him than she had previously perceived.
   Roy brought the cigarette to his lips once more. “I dunno,” he exhaled. “Just… Ollie took me off the streets, made me who I am, and yet now when I need him the most…” he trailed off, his voice cracking as his emotions threatened to bubble to the surface. “Forget about it, it’s nothing. It’s stupid.”
   Smiling slightly, Rose couldn’t help but allow the ironic chuckle to bubble past her lips. “Please,” she muttered, taking the cigarette back from Roy. He turned to her, astonished, as she seemingly brushed off his uncharacteristically heartfelt words. “I don’t even like my father,” she countered, the malice seeping into her words. “And yet… sometimes I find myself yearning for his approval, his assurance… hell, any kind of acknowledgment. I know it’s sick but… he’s the only family I have yet… you know?”
   Astonished, Roy allowed himself to gape momentarily before composing himself. “Yes!” he breathed, turning to face her fully. “It’s like… I shouldn’t need him, but… if not him who else??” He gushed. “I just… wish he could be what I needed from him… or at the very least that he could admit to needing me, too.” 
   The archer lowered his gaze to the rocks beneath his yellow boots. He wasn’t expecting to divulge this much about himself, and although the words rolled easily off his tongue, he had not fully processed them until they hung in the silence between them. 
   Moments later, Roy felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Rose offering a new, unlit cigarette to him. He allowed a sad smile to grace his features before accepting the cigarette, sticking it between his lips and leaning close to the girl to allow her to light the joint. As he straightened up to gaze beyond the waves, beyond the city limits, into the horizon accentuated by moonlight, he felt a pair of tentative arms encircle his waist from the side and a warm body scooch closer to him.
   He peered down at the white-haired beauty next to him. While words of encouragement were never exchanged between the two, Roy realized that Rose, of all the people in his world, understood his pain more than anyone else. As such, it was only natural that neither of them could admit what they needed most.
   Turning his gaze back to the vastness before him, he allowed his arm to reach around his comrade and settle comfortably on her hip. It was not at all like the flirty, even possessive grip he had earlier attempted in his jesting, sober encounters with the intimidating female. This time, it was… natural, welcome, and even comforting. 
   He felt her head lull onto his shoulder, and it was in that moment that Roy realized that he was not alone in his battle. He had by his side another person who felt his pain, and with whom he no longer had to hide his feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness. Perhaps with her help, he could find his own inner Nirvana, without alcohol, without cigarettes, without drugs. And maybe, he could even help her do the same.  
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