SIRENS OF TITAN

he things other people have put into my head, at any rate, do not fit together nicely, are often useless and ugly, are out of proportion with one another, are out of proportion with life as it really is outside my head Jinah ( 志那 ) ♔ HEROINE (AMNESIA)

[flowexpy-deactivated20160601]

☆~:P : You make it sound a lot worse than it is I’m not sad about it ok. It’s better this way and I don’t need anyone’s pity I’ve accepted things for what they are.

☆~:P : And you’re better off if you ask me. Isn’t it better to not be attached in the first place if she isn’t even going to give you the time of day?

☆~:P : You shouldn’t feel bad about it. Be happy. You’re saving yourself from getting screwed over.

☆~:P : But if you’re ok with your situation why’d you bring this up in the first place? I can’t buy that it was just on your mind and nothing else.

☆~:P : She didn’t…hurt you or anything, did she?

[sasetai-blog]

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : It’s not pity I’m just giving you my opinion . 

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : And no, she didn’t hurt me not really. I don’t know if I have any right to complain my parents never did anything to me.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : It’s just like... whenever she was there I felt like there was always someone breathing down my neck and waiting for me to mess up so they could yank my arm and tell me I’m stupid.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : But all parents are critical aren’t they? And my circumstances are probably better than a lot of people’s, so I don’t think there’s much to complain about.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* :

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : Are you going to tell your mom who you are?

[flowexpy-deactivated20160601]

☆~:P : Oh. Is she just not around or something? Or is that just your way of saying she left or died.

☆~:P : Either way that sucks I guess.

☆~:P : You’re pretty optimistic. You think I’ll tell you just because you asked?

☆~:P :

☆~:P : Ok. Fine. Doesn’t matter anyways. But if I’m sharing secrets then you’d better do the same.

☆~:P : She doesn’t know who I am. Hasn’t since I left home.

[sasetai-blog]

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*: Hm.. that sounds complicated. 

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*: I don’t really know what else to say, I wasn’t expecting anything like that.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*: You must be a very strong person though, I don’t think I could live in a world where someone I loved didn’t know who I was.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*: Which is a little ironic but that’s another story.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*: Since you shared it’s only fair that I do too, but my situation isn’t as serious. My mom has never been around much, and even before I ended up here I didn’t see much of her. 

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*:

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*: The thing I feel worst about is that I don’t miss her, in fact sometimes I’ll just think about how happy I am that she’s not here.

[moraitai-blog]

降誕祭

[moraitai-blog]

He’s been waiting for this for a long time.

And he reflects on that, even as he is startled, even as he is pushed towards a man who looks at them both warily, like he’s not sure if it’s really a joke. Touma corrects his posture with an awkward chuckle, and he thinks – she’s always been there, but he’s really missed it. The way she likes to just force herself into his life.

Sitting on Santa’s lap, though, is –

‘Ah. Hi,’ he says, lifting a hand in greeting. He steps forward and leans back, shoving both his hands in his pockets to illustrate his lack of devious intentions. Santa, in all his generosity, squints at him quietly. ‘We, er – actually, she’s the one who has something to say to you.’ He looks over his shoulder and nudges his chin in her direction, and when he turns back, the man is more mollified. And he makes to step away and out to the side, except…

‘Oh-ho. And what about you, little boy?’

… it looks like Santa finally has his act together.

Touma sucks in a breath. Really? ‘– I don’t mind, but I’ll tell you what I want after. After her. Come on.’ And though she may try to escape, he takes her wrist with a gentle grip, pulling her forward to stand even closer to Santa than before. To stave off any objections, he says,

‘Patience will get me on the nice list, right?’

And lets go of her hand.

[sasetai-blog]

Stupid Touma

She doesn’t say it-- not out loud-- but with the way her cheeks puff outward and her eyebrows draw together, she is practically shouting as much. Leave it to him to keep them from being swept up in the current of her own making, even when caught off guard. 

They both look at her-- Touma and Santa, and she feels as if she might as well be facing a firing squad. But she straightens her back, and offers them nothing but an indignant sniff (despite the horror that flashes in Santa’s eyes, despite how unreadable Touma’s smile seems to be). 

And she marches up the length of red carpet, offering no remorse and little apology as she sits down on his knee. 

"It’s a little last minute, I know-- but for Christmas..” Her gaze snags on the tiers of the tree behind them, massive in size and somehow still pungent with the smell of pine and snow despite being plastic and indoors. 

“I want the person I love to trust me more.” Santa says nothing, and looks far more concerned about the fact that all her weight is being balanced on his frail knee, but it does little to deter her. 

“I want him to tell me to do things that will make him happy, and I want him to feel like I’m strong enough for him to lean on.” She speaks as if it’s something simple, and perhaps in some respect it is-- but it’s been Touma’s greatest asset and flaw for as long as she has been alive. 

“That’s all, really.” She gets up, and to his credit Santa maintains his smile even when his discomfort is clear as day behind his half moon glasses. “And, oh!” 

The beginning of an afterthought tumbles out of her mouth only after is halfway back to Touma.

“I’d also like one of those tarts from the really fancy bakery we passed on the way here, thank you!” 

Despite it all, she is nothing but smiles when she tugs on Touma’s sleeve and pulls him forward.

“It’s your turn now, you promised!”

[flowexpy-deactivated20160601]

☆~:P : Whoa there. Jumping right into personal stuff? And after being so secretive yourself.

☆~:P : Weren’t you the one who brought up double standards?

☆~:P :

☆~:P : Yeah. She is. Sort of. She’s not WITH me. Things are ~complicated~ like that. And since you got a ‘get out of mommy issues free’ card, it’s only fair that I get the same.

☆~:P

☆~:P : And has this city blessed you with Mother Dearest?

[sasetai-blog]

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*: No my mom isn’t here, but I don’t miss her too much.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : Maybe that sounds bad but I’m used to not seeing her.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : Why are things complicated for you and your mom?

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : You don’t have to answer but it’s worth a shot to ask. 

[sasetai-blog]

Sonder

Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.

They are not supposed to meet—but they do, because her eyesnever stray too far from Touma’s shadow.

His girlfriend is pretty, but somehow her eyes are onlydrawn to her imperfections.

“Excuse me, senpai!” She has her arms splayed across thestairwell, palms resting on the wall and railing—like she’s trying to trap theother girl (even though she’s going in the opposite direction).

Touma’s girlfriend looks up (her eyes are narrow) browsdipped (they’re on the thin side, almost non-existent by her standards), norecognition registering on her face—and that stings, just a bit—that he hasn’teven mentioned her existence to this girl.

But she supposes, it makes sense.

“You dropped this!” She blinks once (her lashes are awfullyshort) and then the recognition sets in, face alit with none of the sombernessthat once plagued her (awfully) round face.

“Ah! Thank you—I don’t know what I would have done if I’dlost this.” Touma’s girlfriend takes the charm from her hands, holding it bythe black tether it dangles from. A googly eyed rabbit blinks back at her. “Myboyfriend and I have matching ones, so it’s special y’know?”

She has never once seen anything hanging from the end ofTouma’s phone, but the thought makes her stomach twist all the same.

His girlfriend says her thank you’s, makes to leave—and hervoice finds volume without her even realizing it.

“Wait, senpai!”

His girlfriend turns around, bangs swinging to the front ofher face (a poor choice, she notes—they don’t suit her features), and thethunder disappears from her throat in one barely visible flash.

“How…How did you get him to say yes? I’m just curious… sincenone of my friends have boyfriends!” The older girl smiles, like she has beengiven a good hand.

But in her mind, Touma’s girlfriend has folded, given in toher intentions even if she doesn’t truly understand the meaning of their conversation.

“It was pretty tough—like? It took a few tries before hefinally said yes.”

That should make her feel better, but it doesn’t.

She is sympathetic, this girl is admirable, but somehow allthe more ugly in her eyes.

“It was worth it though. He’s been good, good for me.”

Something angry and warm lurches in the pits of her stomach—makesthe other girl’s “good luck” and “goodbye” barely audible in her ears even withhow shrill her voice seems to be.

It is not something as simple as jealousy that keeps her inthat stairwell, that has her thinking about how thin that other girls lips wereor how unpleasant she found her voice. Jealousy is easy, jealousy is excusable.

It is the idea and realization that he can exist outside ofher, that someone else could be as deeply impacted by him as her—that he hasmeaning to other people and in other places where she does not and is not.

Suddenly, the world is so much larger and the trails thatlead to him so much harder to find.

[sasetai-blog]

Adronitis: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

He is a photographer; he thinks wasabi smells sweet and helikes to sketch faces on the ends of napkins (always in 3/4s, and his subjectsnever seem to really be looking at you) when he thinks no one is looking (butshe always notices).

It’s like looking into a kaleidoscope—but only some of thehoneycomb shaped segments shimmer, the rest are blacked out by the pieces ofhim she doesn’t have.

She thinks it might be the mystery that brings her to him,and she thinks he might know—she thinks it might be strategic.

She probably thinks too much, more than she should.

But it’s sad in its own way how much of himself he hidesaway, and there’s some part of her that’s angry about it too (because she wantsto know who has backed him into what wall and forced him to be this way).

Secondhand sorrow and frustration weave a web of assumptionsand wild guesses in her mind. Her feet get caught between the strings when sheis alone; when she has any free moment to spare.

But then he is there— his knuckles brushing against her palm(close enough to make her hope about his intentions, but far enough for him toapologize and write it off as an accident), eyes bright and wide even with howthe sun is sharp in their vision.

And she asks—about his day, about who he has met and seen, aboutwhere he’s come from and where is he going—and every answer tugs her feet freefrom the mess he’s tangled her in.

[ask-meme-addicts]

Obscure Feelings drabble prompt meme

Send in a word for a drabble of our muses based on it.

Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.

Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

Monachopsis: The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

Énouement: The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.

Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookshops.

Rubatosis: The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.

Kenopsia: The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet.

Mauerbauertraurigkeit: The inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like.

Jouska: A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

Chrysalism: The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.

Vemödalen: The frustration of photographic something amazing when thousands of identical photos already exist.

Anecdoche: A conversation in which everyone is talking, but nobody is listening

Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

Kuebiko: A state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence.

Lachesism: The desire to be struck by disaster – to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire.

Exulansis: The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it.

Adronitis: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

Rückkehrunruhe: The feeling of returning home after an immersive trip only to find it fading rapidly from your awareness.

Nodus Tollens: The realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore.

Onism: The frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time.

Liberosis: The desire to care less about things.

Altschmerz: Weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had – the same boring flaws and anxieties that you’ve been gnawing on for years.

Occhiolism: The awareness of the smallness of your perspective.

[flowexpy-deactivated20160601]

☆~:P : Touchy subject? You’re the one that brought it up.

☆~:P : But right. Of course. Whatever you say.

☆~:P : Sure, no one holds their dad to the same standards. But why should they? Do dads give you any reason to? When it comes down to it, your dad can’t be there for you the same way your mother can.

☆~:P : No matter how hard he might try. And that just makes the whole thing sadder, don’t you think?

☆~:P : Mom doesn’t love you? Then how can you know anyone ever has? Maybe you’re not even capable of being loved.

☆~:P : Aw. Are you trying to make me cry?

[sasetai-blog]

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : Quit it I already said I’m not talking about me.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : It’s true though, in most cases your mother sets up the foundation for how you view things like love and family in your formative years.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : Unlearning what she teaches you or what her absence teaches you can be diffcult.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : It’s a little depressing to think about, actually.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : 

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : Is YOUR mom here with you in this city?

[flowexpy-deactivated20160601]

☆~:P : Wow. Just jumping right in there, aren’t you? ☆~:P : Are you this open about your mommy issues with every stranger you meet? ☆~:P : ☆~:P: You’re right, though. Just think about it. You won’t remember it, but your mother’s the one you bond with during those first critical moments in your life. Like it or not, she’s the one who sets you up for everything down the road. ☆~:P : Mom doesn’t love you? Congratulations, you’ve got a problem child on your hands! Don’t count on Dad to be able to fix anything.

[sasetai-blog]

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : I’m not talking about myself it was just something I’ve been thinking about since Valentine’s is always a big day for moms too.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : But as I was saying, I think that’s what it is. You expect your mom to love you because she’s there from the very beginning.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*  : When she doesn’t it feels like betrayal doesn’t it? 

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : No one expects the same kind of thing from their dad.

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : Maybe it is a double standard but mothers have the power to do more damage don’t you think?

[sasetai-blog]

                                                       (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* has entered the chatroom! 

(❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : Everyone says it’s a double standard that we don’t care about absent fathers the same way we do absent mothers... (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* : But don’t you think your mother not loving you ruins you more than your father not loving you..?

@flowexpy

[moraitai-blog]

降誕祭

[moraitai-blog]

Reminiscing is best left to the old fogeys. Or in this case, the romantics – he might be older than her, but her mind is much more given to tepid flights of fancy. Shin tinges the air between them a little red, and he is reminded of the cinnamon pastries they would make for couples this time of year at the cafe. That’s as far as he goes… and it’s just as well, because she breaks the mold of memories with a stamp of her foot and a whine.

That’s what he sees in the look on her face, too.

‘If you really wanted me to, I could.’ His smile is not teasing, because he’s serious. But he does look smug, because while he could do that, she – ‘But you’d get sad. You’d have nothing to look forward to on Christmas.’

– because they’d tried that one year, when Shin’s mom decided he was too old for Christmas. He’d sat and moped around, and then when she wouldn’t stop bugging him, he’d told her – and then she’d moped around, too, but a lot more loudly, because Santa wasn’t real and everything was ruined. It’d been his own idea to open her gifts early, and he’d gotten in trouble for it later, but.

She’d still ended up crying. But he likes to think that with him and Shin there, the disappointment wasn’t as sharp.

‘… you could always cook for me,’ he suggests. She’s pouted enough, and they’ve had the I don’t need anything argument a million times. ‘What about those cookie cutters you bought the other day?… The dog-shaped ones? You still haven’t used them.’

And the road to Oz is soft beneath their feet.

[sasetai-blog]

She rolls her eyes-- mostly at herself; she shouldn’t have expected any other response from him. Years of lopsided paper cranes, and cards covered in glitter and macaroni stain her thoughts like runny watercolors. 

But she should be able to do at least this much for him. 

“If that’s what you want.” She frowns still, brow creased as she squints at him through the kaleidoscope of tinsel and blinking lights projected all around them. It’s not enough, but she leaves it at that-- for now. 

“Just don’t expect anything too great, okay? You know I never cook--” Likely something that should be remedied in the looming future.. 

It’s a short sprint up to Santa, turned into miles only because of how the ropes criss cross and box them in. She can see him from where they stand, and her impatience gets the better of her.

“Here, this way!” She tugs his arm with one hand and lifts the rope up and over her head with the other. It’s probably easier for someone as tall as him to walk over them instead of ducking beneath them, but she pays little mind to that as she drags him along with her. 

They have an appointment to make. 

Santa sits up with a start when their voices round the corner. Touma has barely ambled up the stairs when she ducks behind him-- pushes all of herself against his back, forcing him to stumble forward. 

“Well, go ahead!” She interjects before either Touma or Santa can intercept her. “This is what we came here for, right? Sit on his lap and tell him what you want!”

Maybe it was payback, maybe she was just a dirty opportunist. Whatever the case, it’s been a long road for the both of them in more ways than one-- she’s been waiting for this for a long time. 

[babybunnies-moved-deactivated20]

[frothystars]

i wanted to see you smile at me one more time. 

[wickedwitchshaming]

“Hey, are you a fucking hobo?” – Heroine, probably

[yakusai-blog]

His head jerks up a moment too late.

He looks around, but shouldn’t have to: he picked this place ‘cause there was never anyone here, because there was supposed to be no chance of things like this. It’s still hard to get used to, people addressing him, and there’s a pressure in the front of his head that makes it hard to focus on her, so he stares at her through the corners of his vision instead. Like you’re supposed to do for ghosts, right?

He’d say he tastes iron – irony on his tongue, but fuck that poetic bullshit.

‘Yeah. Well. Maybe I’m dangerous,’ he answers, without any punch to his words. He’s not good at this whole self-analysis thing, so he doesn’t know what he sounds like. But he does know he feels tired. ‘Did you wanna swing? I can –’

He puts a foot out, hanging it in the air, and it almost makes him lose his balance. The rusted chains rattle as he grips them all the more tightly.

‘I can go,’ he suggests, because he’s not sure what he’ll do if he doesn’t.

[sasetai-blog]

She flinches when he stumbles, nose scrunching up in self-righteous dissatisfaction. 

“I didn’t say you had to leave! Just be more careful.” She doesn’t ponder too deeply about the details of the scene (why he says he’ll leave, even though there’s a row of empty swings beside him). She holds back her skirt and sits down beside him, the iron bar above them squeaking quietly beneath her weight.

“I fell once--” She announces suddenly, hands gripping the chains as her feet kick at gravel. “-- doing the same thing you were doing. I fell right on my face too.”

“One wrong step and you could end up hurt pretty badly, you know.” Though her chiding sounds less like a concerned adult, and more like the playground know-it-all. 

“You’re too young to have scars.”

[moraitai-blog]

降誕祭

[moraitai-blog]

‘I thought so,’ he says, but he is not making fun of her.

They’re holding hands, but it’s more like he’s following her in. Their footsteps echo on the small set of stairs leading upward, marble and something else, until they’re muffled by the soft carpet that guides them better than any queue. There is no one in line, but they follow the rules anyway – and if he wonders if she would rush forward, skip underneath the cordons if he was not there, he doesn’t say anything.

The one thing he lets himself wish for is that she wouldn’t go if he weren’t here.

‘He still believes in that,’ he continues, a laugh in his breath. It’s tipped nostalgic and fond, like candy coated in some kind of chocolate, but not quite as sweet. ‘Maybe not as much as he did as a kid, but still. As much as he wants to be an adult already, there’s some things he can’t get rid of.

‘… you either.’

He pauses – and makes her pause again, almost apologetic for that fact – to reach out with his free hand and pinch her cheek. Just once, just lightly. But it puts them just beyond the golden tree.

‘Santa had a lot of fun bringing you presents, you know.’

[sasetai-blog]

"Touumaa!” Her voice is one note short of whiny, and leveled just the slightest bit low because her of annoyance. His touch is soft but her hand flies to her face anyway, fingers nursing the skin he’d pinched. 

They meander there, in the space empty maze of velvet ropes, linked hands hanging in the space between them. Despite her previous urgency she isn’t in any rush-- it’s a clear path all the way up to Santa, and there isn’t anyone in their way, or anyone hurrying behind them.

She thinks to herself-- it’s almost as if the stage has been set just for them (but she doesn’t let the giddiness get to her head, stifles it down to just the excited sparks in the pit of her stomach-- because she’s trying to be mad at him). 

“If only Santa was as fun to shop for as I am..” Touma doesn’t cherish things-- it was endearing any other time of the year, but during the holidays it became his worst quality. “Things would be a lot easier for me and Shin if you were more selfish.”

And it’s the mention of the missing third in their trio that has her moving again, tugging at his hand and leading him through the empty zig-zag of the queue. It’s their first Christmas without him-- and she knows, that even if he was here, and even though the two of them were what they were now, they still would have invited him.

He would have said no, but they wouldn't have accepted it.

 “Are you going to tell me what you got me?” She peers at him over her shoulder, bats her eyes like she would when she’d ask him to make her favorite for dinner instead of Shin’s. 

[kokkei-deactivated20160917]

‘Not like that,’ Izaya answers, and it’s such a simple thing but – yeah. He smiles all the brighter for the rude interruption, the same way a kid guffaws at an annoying teacher being cut off. ‘She’s nice. Pretty traditional, I guess. Conservative. Not the type that wants a toy like this–’ He sees her eyes follow it, and shakes it at her for emphasis. ‘– but who doesn’t love trying new things? I mean, she –’

‘Everybody down on the ground!’

‘– likes a little risk.’ He finishes; unlike some no-name grade-schooler, he doesn’t get mad when he’s interrupted, smile turning a touch wry as he raises his hands. It’s hard to see much from the aisle they’re in, but there’s a guy and a hood and a knife – and one very nervous cashier, who’s shaking so hard he looks like he might fall over. He jerks in one particular direction –

– and some chick in a hockey mask hisses, ‘Don’t you dare,’ pointing with something that looks like it’s supposed to be a gun. Her pigtails bounce with every word.

Izaya pats the space next to him on the linoleum floor. He spreads himself out as he sits down, elbow braced against one of the shelves.

‘But I don’t know,’

‘If you can call getting robbed by teenyboppers a risk.’

[sasetai-blog]

She’s not particularly scared-- she can’t really tell if she should be, and she can’t really tell if it’s because of the situation or her own poor sense of self preservation. Whatever the case, she complies, slinking to the floor, with a huff that stings more with childlike annoyance than fear. 

It’s hard to take them seriously when they’re not even older than her. 

“There is no girl--!” She hisses, thoughts still snagged on that one jagged fragment of conversation. The boy with the knife looks in their direction; gives the air a menacing stab with his weapon, and she begrudgingly lets it go.

Several minutes pass before either of them speak again.

“If you were going to rob a store..” Her voice is quiet, but seemingly unconcerned with how little it suits the atmosphere.

She can’t see the girl in her peripheral anymore. Her companion stands guard at the door, and watches as the cashier empties the register. If the two of them aren’t in her line of sight, it’s hard for her to remember exactly what kind of situation this actually is.

“--wouldn’t you pick somewhere like... a jewelry store, or somewhere that sells lottery tickets?”

Her gaze finds its way up a revolving rack of greeting cards, before finally settling on the ceiling. 

“There probably isn’t much money in there--”

“They didn’t really think this through-- I would have robbed the convenience store down the street. Everyone there pays in cash.”

She’s a little bored, a little annoyed, and those sentiments are likely a little morbid. 

“What about you?”