John Marsden, Checkers
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@ningyoshi-blog
John Marsden, Checkers
❜ ??? :
’ That’s the first answer I’ve heard anywhere close to an agreement. It’s honorable, however perhaps everyone needs someone waiting on them on the other side of heaven. ‘
❝ Maybe you're right ❞
Pallid dactyls are clenched, natural frown flickering for but a brief moment. Mayhaps twas something to live for, rather than the opposite ; if she were watching, he would never forgive himself, be it he disappointed her. So he shan't stray from a path to HOPE -- no matter if her death seemed to preclude recovery.
❝ but I don't like t'keep people waiting. ❞
for every follower i lose, two more shall takes its place
❜ ??? :
ningyoshi . navalentna . pinkutabako . allicienti
‘ They say humans stand on the wrong side of heaven, you know. Do you agree with them ? ‘
❝ I've got someone waitin' there, for me I can't afford to agree. ❞
( whether ‘they‘ were RIGHT or otherwise. )
❜ PEKO :
Her hands shook, so she writhed them together and pressed to prevent him from seeing. Reflexes had been pinned down by the ache that accompanied lethargy. Across her clouded field of thoughts, the one thing that translated quite clearly that he was discomposed by her. Choking back his shouts, nose crinkling and eyebrows pinching together in anger. Each word he used seemed to strike her in the abdomen, upsetting it, making it twist in knots. Awkward and unprepared, breaking apart and falling to hysteria was almost unescapable when he spoke to her like this. It was the last thing she ever wanted, to make him feel this way. However, she’d never seen herself worthy of such concern. Nor did she ever expect him to press and pry— ‘twas usually her standing at his door, asking if he wanted to eat or if he was feeling all right. The change in him made her shiver, no longer did reason resonate.
He asks her for the truth. Therefore, she o b e y s.
”Fuyuhiko— I-It’s… just that… I feel I need to stay strong for you. To become a burden when you are clearly suffering as well… I would… —I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”
Honesty laid bare, tumbling out from her lips so clumsily. The lingering concerns that resided within her mind whilst trapped pon the island. Peaceful days away from the Kuzuryuu Clan made her want to try and change, made her want to try and get closer to him. Her king fought a lonely battle with himself, she knew it well, and she needn’t become a problem to him. No, she couldn’t allow it.
—and she had f a i l e d.
”Back then I… did so little to console you and thought even if I lied and said everything’s all right… that maybe you would feel better and s m i l e.”
Upon her visage was a weary, almost overwhelmed grin. Her heart felt heavy with emotion and a sudden dizzying spell forced her to press her fingers to her forehead and bow her head. ‘Nnn' everything around her is spinning, like those dreamscape carousels—
”I’m a f o o l… I should have known… t-that I wouldn’t be able to accomplish even that. I haven’t changed at all since then.”
It took all of her strength to lift her head and look at him again— folding arms around herself for much needed prosperity. She had told him; those things that she had been much too afraid to admit aloud. In response, her tired heart thundered. How long had it been since she last saw him smile…? Twas a grim thought.
A humorless, knowing laugh escapes her lips and she aims her gaze at the floor, as though ashamed of herself. Her next words are spoken, little more than a whisper.
”I apologize… it is just as you say.. I haven’t slept for weeks.”
Sleepless nights weren't foreign to either; her voice was always so soothing, yet the truth pouring from a fake grin was more of poison. ( And that was unfamiliar to he. ) The facades were nary so unusual, howsoever--although pallid complexion and silver shadowing eyen gave way to the reality of her well-being. He differed no less, though was pale prior to the insomnia. It helped however slight to deny days without sleep--that said he was positive she'd known, natheless. Then her silence is cut short and sole word catches attention:
Burden.
A word she'd seemingly replaced tool for-------- and still was dismissed as untrue. Albeit twas a LIE, no matter how often he'd say it wasn't; they were each other's obstructions, causing grief from the pain they were damned to bear. Yet they also were the only hope either had left. Other survivors had their own demons and nightmares, and if recovery with the carmine hued wasn't attainable, it was hopeless with any other. They were still flying; teetering 'pon a line so easily crossed. ( Ductile, were they, that they'd so easily fallen from mere w o r d s ) And he--both--had, subsequent to the rehabilitation and the once proclaimed "field trip". They'd flown past the line & to the s u n ( and they had BURNED. )
She wished for a s m i l e...? Twas a feat he'd yet to conquer since afore Peko's revival. Each attempt was for naught: even as she awoke, anything resembling such fell from visage, and relief or remorse took it's place. And still he wanted the same from her: genuine and without rue. However this taints his expression; regret. To have pushed her at all, or mayhaps of letting her leave and burn. He could hardly remember the last true smile to grace features, let alone anything more: since caesious crowns were donned beneanth both oculi, any thoughts of SMILING wilted as though a dying bloom.
He wished to console, perhaps only to halt such a tragic grin--a hopeless grin. Albeit he'd never been programmed to act as such: his only means of helping were far from a solace ( to either ). & so his words are lacking sympathy or the like. Twas the greatest one would dream of receiving. As brought up in a world of constant WAR amidst both reality and home, tact was hardly a common teaching.
Hopeless, was he, to hold on so dearly to life. HOPELESS, he was. To hold onto a life naught but d e s p a i r.
Hopeless it was: to cling to a soul forevermore untouchable.
Thus the raven crows.
❝ Idiot. Get some damn rest sometime; you can't keep goin' like this. And I've already told you. You're not you've never been a burden. ❞
kiratsuru
you’re pretti errrr~ u w u and eee i noticed!! it makes me happy~
don't start that now >:0 yeah !!!! she's really talen
:0000!! WOW I love uyoru thEME?? WHO DID?? GENIUS DID THIS?? AMAzE
kiratsuru
eeee your theme is so pretty y ;u; ~
you're so pretty !!!! u w u
tagged by: kiratsuru & meekanns awsdfghjk //falls mun: crystal & muse: kuzuryuu fuyuhiko
six similarities between muse and mun:
well to begin we both swear a lot gOODBYE
uhhh we both really like sweets ???
we both have sisters !!! or,,, had,,,,, in his case lmaooooo
hmm well i'm around his in-game height i think???what is he, like. 5'2" or something? yeah i'm about that so.
we both have amazing fashion sense
he'sssss kinda an asshole sometimes,,,, i am too oops
i'm a huge nerd. he's a huge nerd. incredible.
we have similar phobias???though his are. way worse than mine so.
that's more than six
shit
six differences between muse and mun:
first of all gender
he's a yakuza & responds to problems with violence. i'm really passive-----i don't think acting with anger or vENgeance or whatever is the right way to go about things. :II
i have no idea how to gun
he went through some huge shit aND THE WORST THING THAT HAPPENED TO ME WAS NOT GETTING PIZZA YESTERDAY LIKE WTH
he killed p eople
he's also insane and depressedd
tagging: frikin everyone's already done this om g maybe avarym/varor-whatever the fuck the url is annd whoever wants to I guess ???? p much all my mutuals have been tagged or has done it so. :///
under e v e r y t h i n g just another human being
see the sin in your grin & the shape of your mouth can’t believe you were once just like anyone else then you grew & became like the devil himself the cracks in your smile are beginning to show
She ought to hate him. He killed her. Maybe not with his own two hands, but it was him, all the same. Not only her, but Sato, too. The girl Mahiru had called her best friend, once.
But Sato killed his sister. And she did it because of Mahiru. In the end, it all comes down to her. In the end, it really is her fault, all of it. So how can she be mad at him? How can she hate him for something she was entirely responsible for herself?
She may not have remembered in the VR, but she remembers now. If she had stood up to her bully, fought her own battles, everything would be different. Everything.
"…I just don’t understand," she says, voice unusually quiet. "Even in there, even without remembering it…you knew that Sato was dead. You already avenged your sister. So why wasn’t that enough?" Her arms are wrapped around her own torso, a defensive position.
Because it was all you, a voice whispers in her head. A voice that sounds suspiciously similar to her, the woman she’d followed, the woman who destroyed her and everyone else here. Peko may have swung the bat, but the real murderer is Kuzuryuu. Sato may have smashed her head in, but the real murderer is you.
He always believed despair was born of her: J u n k o E n o s h i m a. That all the deaths and comatoses were due to her spreading of this deemed curse. Though that wasn't completely true; she may have offered a spark, but they were the flames. And that fire was not a force to play with.
The gyaru had been blamed entirely for the mishaps, and leaving her at fault would be simple. Natheless, it was becoming increasingly apparent that they'd let themselves f a l l into the forevermore chasm of despair. Of course she'd twisted their minds, akin to that of a distorted mirror ( in their most vulnerable times, at that. ) but what obstinace had they held? How strong was their wills, to keep each other from ending as another hopeless follower?
❝ I ❞
She said it herself.
Revenge.
Twas common in the likes of his family, yet... aforesaid words rung true. He'd killed Satou, without a second glance. Howbeit none could deny Koizumi's own role in his sister's undoing. And for what? Bullying? He'd almost let out a dry laugh when learning of it. That a yakuza would die for being named detrimental to those surrounding her. Was it enough? Satou gone... it should have been. But he didn't remember it. Now he did, albeit at the time all he'd felt was a blinding ire.
And now he wanted to be angry. And he was. ( Just not at h e r. ) Not at Koizumi, e'en if her actions ultimately lead to his own downfall for his descent was due to his sister's demise.
Yet all that remained when facing his demons, alive & well, was guilt. It was his fault.
Junko lit the match.
They started the fire.
❝ It doesn't fucking matter anymore. You died; I killed you. It was my fault. And... ❞
And I'm sorry.
oh I
k n o w
I’d still
adore
you with your
hands around my neck
kiratsuru:
What has become of the life she suffered death to protect? The harrowing fear cascaded down her spine, the notion that she was to blame for this. That she had failed to be e n o u g h. For she could never make him smile, she could never be a friend to him. Whilst all she wanted was for him to feel safe & sound… Translating emotion was still a difficulty— she should have tried harder to understand him, harder to save him from himself. A failure— both in protecting him, should he fall by his own hand, and a failure in the fact that she had allowed him to slip so far beyond. Tears fall in rivulets— albeit still and silent, rendered still with grief and fear. She stands deathly still, as though an action of hers’ might compel him to pull the trigger.
“P… P-Ple… Please… please— just… give it to me… I… I need— I need you.”
Even without despair he'd have pulled the trigger; it wasn't really choice by the time gun was in hand. Yet despair was there it always was. Shadowing every single movement of every single day. What he'd give to have it all go away, for it to disappear. Once and for all. The only thing binding him to reality was a sole person. A person whom he'd achieve anything for: the blinding light that shone through all darkness. And still it wasn't enough. And still he'd fallen once more. And still... it was her who brought him back. For her. If he was to live for anything--anyone, it would be for her. The firearm shook, harder now. Until he could barely hold it
The clash of metal 'pon the ground echoed around them. With the sound came tears of which a narrowed saffron optic was trying to suppress. And s t i l l they fell.
❝ I'm s o r ry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry ❞
Thus is repeated, over and over.
Direct orders hardly ever came from her lips, especially directed towards him. Yet, her tentative ruby stare glides down towards the firearm wrapped in his fingers and she cannot stop herself from verbalizing her thoughts. Despite her unease, her words come authoritatively, with purpose.
“Give me the gun.” { And then, to refrain from sounding too harsh— } “…Please, Fuyuhiko.”
The weapon was held with determination. The metal was cool against both hand and h e a d, natheless he'd still felt nearly feverish. As if set aflame. And yet, he hesitates at the familiar voice; oculus flickers from despair to that of worry and fear. Hand was visibly trembling, pallid dactyls attempting with all force to pry selves away. But he couldn't. It seemed with even the slightest of light, shadows returned to smite it.
❝ I... I'm sorry. ❞
➳
Oculi are narrowed in attempt to prevent tears, perhaps. For he couldn’t take another 'I'll find her killer’ or 'I'm at your service'. He was hardly in need of a tool that was why a gun was on person, why she held a sword. A person was unable to be without thoughts of their own; they couldn’t truly be emotionless. So why… why does she give him these monotone responses?
Bringing his sister’s killer “to justice” wouldn’t bring her back. No tool… no person was able to do so. And thus he’d coldly shrugged her away, not so angered as he was disappointed, or frustrated. She’d never understand; she’dsimply continue to only give answers a computer would. Never had she’d e’en halted and thought for just a moment: of him and not what she’d been programmed to say and do. Harsh words are a product of her misunderstanding ( or what he’d believed was not caring ) and of the rigorous world they resided in.
Why’d it have to be her?
❝ Don’t talk to me. Just… stay away! ❞
➳ ~ o^o
Thoughts are spoken aloud mindless statements of which said carelessly. He’d hardly e’en begun to think anyone would overhear him, much less her. Of all he knew, secrets were mainly kept from her: in attempts to seem fine. As though it would all go away when she smiled, when her suspicions of his health were laid to rest. As if once her worries subsided, he’d believe the fabricated words spoken to protect her from truths. Howbeit protect may not be adequately deemed, as creating fronts would only add onto an ever-growing pain. As she’d realize his ‘everything is fine' or 'nothing’s wrong' weren’t said with utmost honesty.
For he wasn’t fine or without problems. In a world as this, who was? Neither he nor she, and certainly not those who remain survivors in contrast to the ( supposed ) forevermore despair. So thoughts slipped past lips as the maddened planet only became worse in own eyen.
❝ What’s the point of even living in a world like this? ❞