hello everyone.i'm Alex finechi,that bitch who draws anything legal and would probably go crazy with the idea. some of the games and stories you will see are just kill me 1 and 3, memes,horror, GORE (BLOOD AND GUTS) and any other indie stuff i become obsessed with. i dont care what you call me as long as its alex.
He picked up the mask. The red paint was chipped and the golden accents had gotten clouded with age and lack of care. As his hands traced the leather of it, his memories ran wild. He wasn’t him anymore.
Characters - Kai chisaki, rappa (brief interaction)
Warnings - ptsd, suicidal ideation, abuse mention, limb loss
Set 10 years after overhaul looses everything, gets captured and gets help. Trying to be a better man chisaki sets out to deal with his past and all the pain he had caused and been apart of.
——————————————————————————
10 years.
In those 10 years he had lost so much.
He lost his group, quirk, hands and even his own caretaker. All because he wanted to prove what? He didn’t remember what kept spurring him on.
He almost lost his own life because of how blind he was.
In those 10 years he gotten the help he needed.
He got his arms back by the miracle of quirk compliant prosthetics, which allowed him to use his ability to help people.
He got the therapy he had so desperately needed and now he didn’t feel as alone. He felt seen and heard for the first time in years.
But no matter how much therapy he got, no matter what had happened to him... he couldn’t excuse himself for how badly he treated everyone. No matter how badly he had been treated he came to the conclusion that he still was the one that caused her pain. And for that he would never forgive himself.
What had made him reflect on such thoughts? His old plague mask. It represented how bad he used to be. It was the staple of the man that hurt everyone because he wouldn’t let himself feel anything. It was who he used to be, what he tried to change now. The mask made him feel anxious.
He traced the clouded gold accents of the mask, sighing as he noted how some parts were chipped. Overhaul would’ve had a conniption if he had seen it in such a state as it were now. But chisaki...he could care less now. The thought of putting it on used to be such a symbol of the power he had over people, to mark himself as the harbinger of a new world.
Now... the thought of putting it on now made him look at it akin to a muzzle. Something that was to shut up and make it harder for people to see as human.
The red leather of the mask was now a full pink in Some places, either from lack of care or buildup of dust over those years he was getting better. It was cracked somewhat near the beak.
The black strap that would securely fasten it and got through so many fights and scuffles, was now getting worn and was very weak in some places. It was a dull gray instead of a vibrant black.
It all came back to him in waves.
What he used to do to eri to make bullets.
What he had put nemoto and chrono through.
When twice screamed as he had obliterated compresses arm.
What he did to pops.
It all kept crashing into him with more and more force. But he did like his therapist taught him too.
He floated among the waves, floating on the regret that the man he had been before caused. That was overhaul who did all that. But at the same time chisaki couldn’t blame it all on the previous man. He was the face. The face and hands that had ruined so many people.
That’s why he kept the mask. As a reminder of who he was and who to never try and be again. A reminder for when he forgot who he used to be and who fragments remain of.
He used to sit for hours and hours in that small cell at Tartarus, wondering if he should just go ahead and end it. Have someone break his skull against the bleak walls of that dammed prison. He couldn’t live with the guilt of all he’d done. And he still couldn’t.
But the good days outweigh the bad ones these days.
He would carry the sins he committed forever.
He would forever be reminded of who he had been.
But he would make an effort to change.
He wouldn’t give up just yet.
He wouldn’t allow himself to run from this, he would stay and learn, grow.
He would’ve been in that trance forever if rappa hadn’t came through the doorway, knocking on the wall to alert chisaki of his presence.
“Ey,chi? You alright? Haven’t heard or seen ya since this morning.”
Chisaki looked at the mask and at rappa. “I’m fine, just going down memory lane for a bit..”
Rappa looked at the mask. “Ya sure? Ya look pale.”
Chisaki nodded, setting the mask on his dresser and walking over to where rappa was. “How about we go get something to eat? Should be around that time right?”
“Yeah! I’ve been wanting a good steak how about you?”
“We’ll see.”
——————————————————————————-
Read it on AO3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
imma be real I can’t see the light at the end of this tunnel. It’s not even that i don’t want to see it, I wish I could.
i am but a miner trying to find a way out of collapsed mine, looking at the locket of their dear wife. Knowing I will die, but going if only for her sake.
the dark is trying to swallow me whole.
i mean, it's not all bad, the budding wings (yet to grow strong or large enough to break through the skin of your back like cracking an eggshell tearing open all your layers, destroying the past you, leaving you red and raw, and flinging blood into the air and all around you making a mess of everything) do look really cute pressing into the not quite transparent layers of skin that still trap them. i mean they look really uncomfortable, but it's cute at least.
some people like to get mad at disability benefits because they think its unfair people who dont work get a payout from the government while they have to work 50 hours at the human suffering factory every week. but if you tell them "yeah that sucks i think you should also get a universal allowance and not have to work 50 hours at the human suffering factory every week" thats apparently the wrong answer.
