[MULTIMUSE] EgoMun

18+ MULTI-MUSE ACCOUNT! LEARN ABOUT THE MUSES HERE! #AlterEgo #HiyokoSaionji #NagitoKomaeda #MonacaTouwa #ShuichiSaihara #AoiAsahina #MikanTsumiki

[hopeexe1]

// Really going to try picking up writing here again because twitter RP has just become so weirdly-aggressive...  Everything here is so peaceful by comparison.

I hope if I pick up the threads I dropped people are still interested in them.  I really like writing with people here!

[perpllexor]

starter call!!!!

[hopeexe1]

// MILES~

I would be happy to write a longform thread with ANY of my muses!  Just hit me up!

[hopeexe1]

@eludum​ Continue

Chiaki’s blood flows from the expertly-made transfusion point in her arm - even in this situation, in the middle of a battlefield, the Foundation medics were professionals.  The crew begins securing the IV in the swimmer’s arm and taking extra measures to ease her pain and stabilize her diminishing heart rate.

The transfusion was starting, Chiaki’s blood entering her arm, but Asahina barely noticed - she was hardly aware as it was.  Her eyes drooped and her face was pale.  Chiaki could feel her hands shaking.

At first, when Chiaki speaks to her, she doesn’t respond.  What was she looking forward to when she got back to headquarters?

‘Nothing.’

Nothing but a tongue-lashing over her failure, or the distrustful stares of the senior members.  She knew what they thought of all of them - her and her friends who had survived that twisted game.  They never trusted her - not really.  They might have pitied her, but they never trusted her.

But then, as Chiaki continues, Asahina latches onto something.

Her friends.  Makoto was there for her when she needed him most.  The thought of making donuts with him comes to her like a dream.  She can picture the three of them in the kitchen, working with flour and milk.. baking.  The sweet smell as they rise in the oven.  The colorful decorations.  His smile.  The taste.

The sound of his voice.  Laughter.  Life.

“I want.... to do that with... you,” she whispers between shallow breaths.

“You were... the only one... there.  Who was.  Nice.  To us.”

Her hand closes ever so slightly against Chiaki’s.  She faintly recalls the early days of her stay at the Foundation - where she was still reeling from the shock of being released into a ruined world.  The senior members treated her like a liability.  Chiaki treated her like a friend.  A person.

“Thank you...I never... thanked you...”

[hopeexe1]

reboredhope‌: Continue

The door to her cabin closes, leaving Hajime on the outside, and Hiyoko inside... laid flat on her bed.

Alone with her thoughts... laying motionless, staring up at the rough-hewn fiber of the ceiling; her long, frazzled hair splayed out wildly under her.  Her whole body ached... she was used to fits of passion - her whole life as a despair was a series of one mood swing to the next.  Dancing in atop smoldering wreckage and for throngs of crazed fanatics alike.  Everything she felt, she felt to the fullest - the pangs of despair and the dark, sinking feeling inside of her core were constant companions.

This, though... this was different.  It hurt, and not in the way she liked.

‘You can’t give up.  If you just wait for her, she’ll come back.  Then things can go back to the way they were before.

... before?  No... you’re stuck on this island forever.  The world is done with you.  All your friends are gone.  You’re going to die here.  There’s no point to any of this.

Junko is dead.  She isn’t coming back.  She’s gone.  The only person who ever cared about you is gone.  The only person who ever loved you.’

For a moment she drinks in the thought... allowing her despair to comfort her, and a smile creeps across her face as she pictures herself there in her pathetic little cabin - alone; abandoned; broken; unlovable.  Irredeemable.  Dangerous.

... Not so dangerous, now.  Reality comes back to her - she isn’t an extension of Enoshima’s will anymore.  Enoshima HAS no will.  She’s gone.  The smile fades.  She has no purpose anymore.

The dancer turns and curls up on her bed as visions of Enoshima assault her.  Her face and eyes - her bony, manipulating hands caressing her hair.  The sound of her beautiful voice whispering to her - praise; insults; commands.  All of it was a symphony.

‘and you’ll never hear or see her again.’

...This hurts.

‘You’ll be alone for the rest of your life, stuck on this island, unable to dance or even walk.  That’s not even despair.  It’s just pathetic.’

Her face bunches up as she continues her miserable line of thought; daggers pointed inwards.

“Don’t leave me...  Please come back...

I don’t want to be alone...  I need you.  I don’t know what to do...”

Saionji calls out pathetically to her.  As a despair, she feared nothing.  She could die at any moment, and it would only exhilarate her.  Now, without Enoshima to cling to, she knew just how alone she was, and it terrified her.

[hopeexe1]

eludum‌:

of course chiaki doesn’t have the medical knowledge to properly diagnose asahina’s condition. she’s going to hang on to whatever optimism she has left, because it’s the only way she’s going to stay afloat.

she stays stock still while the medical team goes to work on drawing her blood for a transfusion. there’s a pinch of pain as the needle pierces her skin. after a couple of minutes, she’s already starting to feel rather woozy. a nearby nurse hands her a bottle of water, and she gratefully takes a swig from it.

she reaches out her unoccupied hand to squeeze asahina’s. “it’s okay,” she says softly. “it’s not your fault. it’s not your fault. just hang in there.” it’s going to take time to get the transfusion up and running, which means they need to focus on keeping asahina from losing even more blood. they can’t do any kind of surgery on her wound until then.

“…do we have any painkillers left?” she asks, looking expectantly at the doctor. she shakes her head. “what about anesthetic?”

“we need to keep her awake for now,” the doctor explains, “so we can check her for other injuries.”

that’s exactly what they’re doing now, making sure asahina hasn’t suffered any fractures. it’s not easy, given that they don’t have an x-ray machine. the best they can do is check her over physically, as they work to staunch the flow of blood from her stomach.

@eludum​

Chiaki’s blood slowly fills the donation bag.  She feels a bit dizzy, but she’ll be fine so long as she doesn’t do any heavy activity for a little while.  Her main concern is Asahina, as it should be.  The IV is ready, and now it’s only a matter of waiting for the blood to finish drawing.

Asahina’s hand is cold.. but even so, she feels a tiny squeeze as the girl’s fingers curl weakly around hers.  She doesn’t say anything further, outside of the occasional pained gasp, and shallow, quiet sob.

Something had clearly gone wrong with this entire supply drop, but she can’t get any good information out of Aoi as she is now.  That would have to come later.  For now, it was a struggle for Aoi just to stay awake.

“Try to keep her talking.  The transfusion will be ready in a few minutes.  We need to keep her awake,” a field medic implores Chiaki while he sets up a hanging drip stand and readies additional supplies.

[hopeexe1]

eludum‌:

“you’re not going to die.”

it’s ugly, and it’s been bleeding for quite a bit, but it looks like the inner lining of her stomach wasn’t torn too badly. she hasn’t been gutted– she’s just been sliced up. that’s good news, for what it’s worth, though chiaki doesn’t explain that. it’ll seem trivial to the swimmer, who could pass out any minute now.

after assessing the damage, chiaki pulls a whistle out and blows on it. as she waits for medical assistance, she begins patching asahina up to stem the loss of blood from her abdomen.

“hang in there, okay?” she whispers to her. “i know it seems bad. but you’ll make it through this.” she stains her hands red as she winds a cloth around the other girl’s middle. by then, one of the medical assistants is hustling over with a stretcher, though they don’t have good news.

“we’re just about out of blood packets,” the older woman whispers urgently, “and it looks like she’s going to need one.”

chiaki keeps one hand on asahina’s shoulder as she looks at the nurse levelly. “…you can take mine,” she says. “i’m a universal donor. it’ll be fine.” sure, she’s feeling kind of shaky on her feet from a lack of sleep and a lack of proper nutrition, but it’s better than letting asahina die.

the nurse nods grimly. “we’re gonna load you up now, okay?” chiaki tells asahina. “it’s gonna hurt really bad. you can scream and swear as much you want, it’ll make you feel a little better.”

and they follow up on their word, struggling to lift asahina onto the gurney.

@eludum​

Asahina’s head bobs limply.  Chiaki might be underestimating just how badly sh was injured... or maybe it was wishful thinking.  Her warning doesn’t mean much - she feels so faint that she doesn’t have the energy to curse, or shout, or scream.

As she’s lifted up, she lets out a sharp gasp, followed by a pained whimper.  It’s a pitiful, heart-rending sound, and it continues as she’s loaded onto the gurney and wheeled into a small medical bay on the helicopter.  Sweat beads on her forehead, and her eyes close shut in exhaustion.

Even as the nurse goes to work on her arm to insert a catheter for an IV, she doesn’t respond - one pain far outstripped the other.

Whimpers give way to soft crying...

“My fault... My f-fault.  I didn’t... hh... *hic*  I was supposed.... to...”

She clearly doesn’t have the energy to speak properly yet, but it’s obvious that her injury isn’t the only thing causing her pain.

[eludum]

❥ @hopeexe1​

you’d think she’d get used to seeing things like this.

the blood and gore tracks on her shoes as she makes her way into the epicenter of the event. all around her, injured and dying people are groaning softly and crying out. the medics that came along are attending to their needs as best they can, and others… they’re allowing them to pass away quickly and quietly, the best boon they can offer them.

chiaki came along to find one person; asahina aoi, one of her coworkers in the thirteenth division, as well as somebody she’d like to consider a friend, though she’s more reluctant to make such attachments than she ever was before.

following one particular trail, she finally stumbles upon the exact person she’s been looking for. for a moment, she thinks asahina is dead, and fear and grief stab at her heart; then she sees the faint movement of the other girl, and a wave of relief washes over her.

she hurries over, medical kit already in her hand. “asahina-san,” chiaki says softly, but urgently. “let me see. i can help you.”

or, if she can’t personally patch the other girl up, at least she can get her to somebody who can.

[hopeexe1]

@eludum

The girl’s arm is slung over her middle, the cloth stained with red.  Asahina’s head moves up slowly at the sound of Chiaki’s voice.  When Aoi faces her, Chiaki can see her normally tan skin an alarming shade of pale.  Her eyes look tired, and her mouth hands slightly.  Her breathing is shallow.

“...N...Na.. nami.  They.  I didn’t...I...”

Under her arm, Chiaki can see clearly - a huge gash has been cut through Aoi’s middle, the cloth ripped and stained.  She isn’t doubled over in pain, though she certainly was in pain.  She was trying to hold herself together.

“I... d-don’t want.. to die...”

[hopeexe1]

➺ for asahina...

@eludum

The foundation had lost contact with the 3rd Division’s team.  Tasked with dropping off vital supplies in needed areas - food, clean water, a smattering of medicine - it was one of Aoi Asahina’s duties to make sure the supply drops were coordinated and completed without incident.

In this world, hardly anything is completed without incident.  All attempts to contact her over the Foundation’s broadcast frequency were met with silence.

A rescue team was dispatched in response.  Hovering nearby in an armored helicopter, Chiaki draws near to their dispatched location, and it becomes obvious why there was radio silence from the team.

The dispatched supply trucks billow smoke and flame.  Supplies are scattered; smashed and dumped on the ground.  This was Remnant activity - they were raided.  The supplies were destroyed simply to add to their own misery and the misery of anyone who wasn’t already in the throes of despair.  They starved themselves to feed the growing darkness.

The helicopter touches down, and Chiaki Nanami walks out onto the bloodstained streets, bodies littered left and right.  Some beaten, some mortally sliced, some with limbs twisted and broken in unnatural ways.

She spies movement - Asahina sits on the ground, curled over - arms folded in.  She’s not wearing her combat gear... and a crimson trail flows out from her, painting the concrete a sickly shade - just like the foul clouds that hang in the air.

[symbolmemes]

Send ➺to find my muse badly wounded and bleeding after a battle.

[hopeexe1]

// I really want to write Hajime Deep-Dive stories... where he’s going into the subconsiousness of his comatose friends.

Like Psychonauts.

[hopeexe1]

more-than-a-princess‌:

Even if they were to test the theory, there likely wasn’t enough wine, much less another alcohol, for them to hold a drinking contest. Sonia had told no one but upon her release from the hospital alongside her fellow survivors, it had been her aim to visit the music venue before the rest of them. While Kazuichi stocked up on tools and parts and Akane on food, Sonia had raided the Titty Typhoon’s bar and some of the hotel kitchen as well. A social habit she’d had before she’d turned to despair, now her drinking was out of necessity. A necessity to forget her memories and how to feel, the screams and pleading of her mother and father and Junko’s lips trailing over the skin of her bare chest. And those were some of the less disturbing recollections she’d begun to uncover in her hospital bed.

“I’m afraid you may be right. I don’t profess that my tolerance while drinking alcoholic beverage is necessarily anything to be admired, anyway,” Sonia smiled, if a bit anxiously, in return to Hiyoko’s assessment of their male classmates. Only Hajime had a chance of keeping up with her, but then again, he was now gifted with every talent in the world. “But there was still a level of decorum for conversations at formal events. Execution was not an acceptable topic, nor were sex, religion, or money among anyone you could not fully trust.”

Sonia let out a deep sigh. It was a line of thought she wasn’t ready for Hiyoko, or anyone really, to follow. Even though no one spoke of carnal relations in polite conversation, such things were prone to occur especially when the liaison was a forbidden one. The same could be said for financial transactions that needed to remain hidden. Laws and the fates of criminals were announced in the presence of the council, but the occasional bribe of various resources were traded on the edges of the tiled marble floor of the ballroom, with dancing couples to distract from dark deeds.

Hiyoko was lucky in that, she had no clue that beyond the fluffy ballgowns and canapes, there was an entire political world unfurling, concealed by airs and centuries-old rules of etiquette. It had taken her becoming a remnant to fully embrace her criticism, bordering on cynicism, of the lifestyle she used to lead. But she hadn’t expected the other girl, the midst of consuming every strawberry Sonia had set aside for her, to suggest bringing some of life’s luxuries to the island. All things considered, they needed to be happy that that they were alive and no longer entranced and enamored with embracing despair and their beloved leader.

“If you are interested, I could certainly try to help!” She agreed, flexing her bicep after dropping the last bean pod into Hiyoko’s basket. Making homemade alcohol hadn’t been one of her official skills as a princess, but Sonia had visited enough of Novoselic’s vineyards to untangle some of the mystery. Not to mention, her own supply of vodka, rum, and scotch would not hold out forever. She didn’t know how to tell Hiyoko that while the former dancer wished for the finer things in life, Sonia kept some in her very cabin. Not just the alcohol but mementos the Future Foundation had taken from Novoselic Castle upon her capture: clothes she remembered wearing, jewelry, books, framed photos of her family, anything they could abscond with easily with the Queen of Blood in tow. Alongside the information she was given about her home, Sonia touched them, held them, wore them when she was able, before her head began to hurt and her heart began to pound and she needed to set them far away from her as possible so they would not drown in her cold sweat. “I remember a little about the grape vineyards I visited at home, though I wonder if something like gin might be easier to create. Perhaps if we are able to sway Hajime and Hanamura, they may be able to assist us. Considering the state of…all of us, I do not think many will object to such things in our new home.”

“You know... there’s no reason we have to punish ourselves while we’re here, right?  I don’t see why we can’t have a few comforts here and there!”  The sweet treat that Saionji has gobbled up has apparently done worlds to improve her mood; she smiled and shifted about happily on the ground, wiping the juice from her mouth with that same embroidered handkerchief Sonia had set down for her.  “I don’t really care what we make... as long as it’s sweet.  I’m not much for drinking, but I love sweet things.”

That was the thing about Hiyoko as she was now - she wasn’t dumb by any means, but she saw the world very simply.  She was practical, and perhaps a bit self-centered.  She didn’t have the sort of hang-ups that Sonia had, since she spent most of her life by herself anyway.  

She already saw the world through a jaded lens - distrustful of people by nature and keen to see society’s flaws over the small bits of beauty that could be found.  Her talent put her in the unique position of seeing the power structures present in society up close, but being powerless to actually affect them.

She didn’t need anything more than a gentle shove from Enoshima to see the world as Enoshima wanted her to.

“Maybe we can bring a little bit of Novoselic here for you, Sonia.  It must be tough to be here on an island full of foreigners.  Especially with some of them so... eccentric.”  She bites the last word a bit.

Her eyes wander to the basket Sonia had generously filled for her.  She was stubborn, to be sure - that hadn’t changed.  But acts of kindness... well, she never asked for them, but these days she took notice of them, and was inclined to repay them.

“You spend a lot of time in the old bar.  Is it because you miss the parties?  Maybe we could have a little Novoselic Style dinner party... with some gin or wine!  And music!  And dancing!  ... just like in Novoselic!”

“... Yeah.  Yeah, I like this idea!”  She doesn’t gauge Sonia’s reaction at all, instead letting her mind run with visions of prim and proper socialites all mingling and laughing those stifled, pleasant laughs.  “Who says we have to be so serious all the time?  Let’s have some fun, for once!”

[hopeexe1]

reboredhope‌:

@hopeexe1 | continue.

❛ Don’t worry. I got ‘ya.❜ 

“Would Hajime say - ‘Ya’? I’m an idiot.” A thought, earned from his own embarrassment. Maybe, it’s only a habit picked up from his friends. Kuzuyru?

He needs to be cautious due to her fragility. The once nimble dancer, now finding difficulty in a simple task such as walking? The dues-ex machina is already planning a physio-health plan, as well as a mental health plan. Discussions on that topic can occur later when it becomes relevant. Right now, only one thing matters: her bed!

Gently, he helps the dancer rest on top of it. Unsure if he should adjust anything, pillows, blankets? Being unsure of anything, he’d rather that than being sure, being 100% right. For him, it’s gratifying. 

He’ll adjust anything it if he’s asked. He doesn’t want to use his analyst ability unless absolutely necessary. It’s not like he can stop it, but he can block it out. Instead of leaving himself in the dark, he asks;

❛ Do you need anything else? ❜ Walking away from Saionji, he places a key on the desk adjacent to the bed. The key to her cottage, in case she asks for privacy - Hinata has copies, for emergencies, or for duplicating, or - well, the point’s made. 

@reboredhope​ Continue

In her bed now, she purses her lips and furrows her brow... not sobbing at this point, but clearly not happy.  Clearly uncomfortable, though there’s not much Hajime can do at this point for that.  Her fists are balled up at her sides... for a moment, she thought about grabbing the candle-holder by her night stand and just... bringing it down over his head.  

Bursting his skull open.  Attacking him again and again and again, cracking every bone in his body.  Twisting the fingers around, stomping on his chest; plunging something into his eyes.  All manner of violent imagery assaulted her as Hajime was close to her... but she didn’t act.

She didn’t act for two reasons...

One, she knew that she couldn’t hurt him.  He possessed every talent in the world.  She couldn’t lay a finger on him.

And two... because something in her didn’t want to.  She felt hesitation for the first time in years, and it scared her.

The cracks opened wider and revealed something beneath her that was aware that her crimes were crimes.  That her ‘lifestyle’ was an excuse to abandon all responsibility.  Even now as she clung to the perverse hope that she could return to that lifestyle, that same feeling inside of her was telling her that she couldn’t.  That despair was dead.  That Junko Enoshima was dead.  That this was her life now, and that she needed to face reality.

“....No.”  She quietly responds after a long moment of silent as she basked in post-breakdown malaise.  She was exhausted.

“I don’t need anything.  I’m.... fine.”

[hopeexe1]

reboredhope‌:

@reboredhope​ Continue:

Saionji clings to Hajime’s arm as she stands on shaky legs, eyes still shut tightly.  The world around her feels small; her brain telling her she should not be this tall.  Her legs and arms should not be this long.  She definitely should be treated as something fragile, because she is fragile.

As a Remnant, she danced amid the ruins of society, nimble and elegant.  But in her hands, common items could be deadly weapons, and her cruelty was limitless.  Selfish, childish impulses magnified and twisted for the benefit of another.  Her kimono swirled in the flames and embers of ruin; she was a symbol of beauty to the unruly mob.  An idol in her own right.

Now she trembles, takes uneven footsteps, and weeps.  She’s big now, but she feels small... she’s that tiny little gremlin inside.

...

The thought of what life would be like if they had chosen to graduate crossed his mind on more than one occasion... and for Saionji, it was what she was banking on.  it was what she dreamed of.  If she only waited a bit longer, she thought, then her idol would reveal herself in glorious fashion - puppeteering Pekoyama, or Tsumiki, or maybe even her best friend Koizumi.

She could play a version of them that would be even better than before.

....

The Ex-Remnant stands at the entrance of her cabin with Hajime, swaying unevenly as she clings to his shirt... still sniffling, though the effort it took to move was distracting her somewhat.

She tries taking a step.. and immediately recoils as the world around her spins, and the floor seems miles away.

“..I.. want you to...t-to help me to bed.  I don’t want to fall on the f-floor...”

[hopeexe1]

// Feel like doing a plotting call!  Like this if you want to plot something with any of my muses.  I’m feeling like Remnants (pre and post game), and DRv3 Character AUs!

[hopeexe1]

reboredhope‌:

@reboredhope​ Continue

“I ww-wanna go to muh-m-my, my room..!”  Saionji stutters and gasps into her sleeves, trembling in a heap at Hajime’s feet.

She grits her teeth and holds back a few sobs, but the box has been opened now: for the first time since she woke up, she allowed herself to feel emotions that weren’t rabid obsession and selfless devotion to a long-dead manipulator... and they hurt.  She hasn’t felt like this in years.

She can envision the smiles of her closest friend - the feeling of happiness she felt at the kindness she showed to Hiyoko every single day.  She didn’t judge.  She didn’t condescend.

She won’t forgive you.

“T-take, TAKE me to MMMm M-MY ROOM!  I don’t want to-to be out hh-here!”

[hopeexe1]

@reboredhope Continued

“Don’t you get it..?”  Her voice starts sounding more and more tired.  She isn’t shrieking and spitting venom at this point... likely because it isn’t making Hajime go away.  If she could, she’d wring his neck.  But she can’t even stand at the moment.  She can’t do much of anything... and the fact sticks in her throat; lodged like a stone; heavy and constricting.

“What point is there in fixing me?  My friends are brain-dead.  The world hates us.  And if I ever danced again, it would be for a group of murderers.  I’m never leaving this island.”

Unable to chase Hajime away with vitriol and anger, she’s left only with her real emotions - the ones she keeps just beneath the surface.  It’s evident in her face.  She carries the expression of someone backed into a corner.

“Nothing is ever going to fix what I did.  People are dead or worse because of me.  I’m a murderer.  I’m a monster.  So just leave me alone!  I don’t need anyone!  So what if you’re right?  So what if Junko is really gone!?  I still have her despair!  You can’t take that away from me!  If I have that, nothing can hurt me!”

The spastic flailing of a junkie who’s been denied their fix for far too long... it had been long enough to be apparent that Junko wasn’t coming back.  Even the hope that she was still in one of her sleeping friends was just that - it was Hope.

“You want me to give that up..?  Why?  So I can ‘get better?’  So I can dance again, and smile and laugh with my friends?  Make my ‘own fun’ in exile?  So I can be the best exiled murderer I can be?

... Talk to my best friend?  ‘get better’ so that if she ever wakes up she doesn’t have to look at what I am now?  Have lunches with her again?  Let her take my picture again?  Let her... t-tie my... m...”

The rhetorical questions come rapid-fire, but they’re daggers pointed inward.  Every flap of her angry tongue chips away at the despair she clung to, because even as she was now, she wanted those things.  She wanted to see Mahiru again, and even the others, as obnoxious as they could be.

The girl feels a bitter tear run across her face, and it shocks her.  The lump in her throat grows.  The cracks in the wall are splintering out, and she hides her face in her sleeves.  If she could, she’d be sprinting off to hide herself away, but of course... that isn’t happening.

“..Oh y-you bastard.... Look at what y-you did...  Look what you diiiid....! 

Go away. Go aw-w-way!  Leave me alone!”

[hopeexe1]

reboredhope‌:

Her hands - normally outspread on the ground to balance her - quickly ball into fists.  She attempts to move back, unable to crane her neck any further to look at Hajime as he stands tall before her... but she falls.  Embarrassing, but it gives her a better view.

“No she isn’t,” she refutes him, not as harshly as before, but still adamant.  Still clinging to her obsession with shaking fingertips. “She isn’t gone...  She’s not!  She’s NOT gone!  She’s to smart to fail!  She’s too perfect!  

Her plan didn’t fail - it’s going exactly as she wants it!  She’s waiting.. waiting to see who abandons her!”

She attempts to stand and face him... and fails.

“Ough....

F-future... Don’t make me laugh.  I don’t HAVE a future.  YOU don’t have a future!  NONE of us have a future!  We’re all stuck here on this STUPID ISLAND!  FOREVER!  WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE POINTLESSLY HERE!”

Saionji’s voice suddenly turns ragged, and she grabs fistfuls of sand and flings them at Hajime, where they evaporate into a fine mist, and fall to the ground.

“Even if you hate her now... even if you abandoned her, even if she really IS gone, you can’t say there’s a future here!  There’s NO future here!  There’s NOTHING!!  We’re going to sit here on this rock until WE ALL DIE!

There’s nothing for me here...  Nothing!

That’s why Junko can’t be gone!  She isn’t!  She can’t be!  If she’s gone, then I HAVE NOTHING...!  But if I’m patient... and I wait for her.. when she comes back, she’ll praise me.  She’ll love me.  It’ll be just like it was before!”