#healspake

[chisenki]

 ◜   STARTER.    ( 1  / ? )    @healspake

                ❛   have   you   ever   taken   a   LIFE  ?   the   sensation   of   using   your   skills   to   slay   another   .   .   .   there’s   nothing   quite   like   it  .   ❜  

[morsxvoluntariax-blog]

Scene Start @healspake

He was grumpy, it had been a long day, he hadn’t slept well the night before, hadn’t eaten all day, and to boot, the day have been horrible. Dazai just wanted a drink and sleep. And yet, here was the one person who could stop his plans, standing in his bedroom doorway, with her hands on her hips and a frown creasing her brow. 

“I already told you, I was careful. I didn’t see anyone, and therefore nobody saw me,” Dazai huffed, wondering how he could shut the door to his room on her, without actually physically touching her. Yosano wouldn’t be too thrilled if he hit her with the door. Sure, he’d snuck out and endangered the both of them by doing so, but he didn’t need an earful about it just then. They’re two years in hiding was up in 5 weeks, if he ruined it now, she’d never forgive him. 

[sinspell-blog]

           ❛  IT’S  GETTING  closer  to  that  day,  huh  ??  ❜  TONE  WAS  FLAT,  saturated  deeply  with  a  resounding  solemness.  weak  eye  contact  was  hardly  necessary,    for  he  knew  looking  into  hers  would  only  show  him  a  playback  of  the  tragedy  all  those  years  ago.  another  failure,  another  loss  stained  his  hands  and  weighed  upon  his  shoulders,  no  matter  how  hard  she  fought  to  relieve  him  of  it.  ❛  IS  THAT  why  you  haven’t  said  a  word  all  day  ??  ❜  @healspake  .

[carmellian]

遥かな昔へ、少女が亡くなった日

MEMORY MEME || @lifends / @skullcrxsher / @snowgleam / @healspake

a repressed memory a memory of their mother a memory of death/loss an eye-opening memory

tainted youth curls within itself, its vessel grasping unto its remnants preserved only by fading memories thankfully made tactile by a lone tasseled hair ensemble. The child shivers underneath his workshop table, certain of inevitable punishment from infernal transgression committed from the innocent, primal wish to protect oneself from harm. 

( sin breeds sin. )

Carmine eyes refuse to open as a frenzied mind seeks for repose, to escape from a cruel reality so harshly imposed by none other than herself and an unknown power of sorts. The warmth of a cooling hand to her cheek, the gentle smile of an absent mother who lives no longer are precious threads of a bittersweet dream she weaves to cocoon herself as one hand grasps her memento as the other grips tightly an arm, one of two that were held, horrible purple bruises having blossomed on pale skin her proof. There is fear; there is disgust. Bile threatens to rise from an empty stomach, the skin over it wrongfully caressed with intent. 

She feels cold inside and yet her body is scorched. Tears run down her cheeks, down the bridge of her nose, over her trembling lips, on her tongue as she bites it to keep in sobs that sent tremors throughout her body.  

Oxygen is scarce and her chest constricts in pain. A gasp leaves her petrified being when she hears his footsteps. ( heavy and systematic. even as he glides over tatami, opening the door harshly. ) So she makes herself even smaller, retreats further but to no avail. Reality will have its way with her where one of her father’s ‘ friends ’ have failed. The demon she has to face is not foreign, intrusive touches but the familiar hand that has made bloom several other bruises on the pallid canvas of her body. Not consciously, she gathers, as this only ever happens when HE reeks with the putrid stench of sake. Still, upon what she has done, she knows that he does not need sake to hurt her. 

She killed him. HIS friend. She wished him dead and now he is. She will pay the price for striking a deal with a demon to slay another.

Yet she does not feel fear for that demon ---- the one that has given her salvation procured from her wishes, her memories... ( a warmth that enveloped her kindly, a voice that sang her to sleep, the gentlest touch ever inflicted upon her person. )

NOT THIS.

Not a touch so jarring, so unkind. So different from the hands that are now forcing her to face her prosecutor. Some unholy heavenly judge to a sin she does not understand the weight of. She hears him gasp too when her visage is revealed to him... when he sees her dyed in vermillion. Her mouth opens and she hears herself crying out apologies, chichiue, chichiue, please. Please listen, father. ( He touched me, he touched me! ) ( DEMON. ) ( Help, chichiue. )

his title is spilled from cut lips, his role called upon by the one whom he needed to act it towards but failed. There is pain in her back as she is slammed down on to the wooden surface of the table that had been her safe haven just moments before his entrance emboldened by righteous fury. The sting of her cheek from the slap she receives for pleading for mercy mutes everything else. She is screaming, kicking, fighting but he holds her down by her neck, making oxygen scarcer than it already is,

( DEMON. DEMON. I should have killed you then, I should have known. ) ( chichi...ue--- ) ( you killed her. ) ( no...---- ) ( You’re EXACTLY like her. )

And what else could she do but cry as life is squeezed out of her by one who had breathed it into her? Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she should just die and be done with it. Her thoughts spiral into nothing as the hands lose their strength -- one trying to pry off his hands from her neck, the other grasping her mother’s memento. Grasping for her mother, gasping for them both. Help her. Please. Weak and insignificant as she is, she craves to live. She craves to find the same warmth that has been stolen by indifferent time and unforgiving death. 

She wants to live.

「母上ー」 Gripping the hair ornament, she gathers all she has left of her in her voice, her drained thoughts.

Call my name, call for me.

Carmine eyes open ( since when have they closed...? ), death and life amalgamate and from nothing comes something. A meaningless existence reaching out from a harrowed soul, far too broken to care what means she has to use to remain in ukiyo-e. She knows how this will end. How he will end. By the blade of the only demon that mattered, the only demon that cared. So she answers it, offers her soul to it as she calls it by its name.

「金色夜叉。」

The contract is sealed and chichiue’s blood is vermillion to his colleague’s rust. If dyeing her stained nagajuban with new vermillion is what she must do to survive, then she will... for no other person, no other demon shall keep her alive but HERSELF.

[darknessmysxrrow]

healspake replied to your post: a box is presented unwrapped ( due less to...

one day you’re gonna get bonked chuuya : T

“If I gave you a box of chocolate, will he get mad? If so, here’s two. I have roses on the way.”

[lovelornes-archive]

❛ I would have kicked their asses! Stiletto heel right in their eyes! ❜ J, infuriated with the events of that very night. She was so fuming she ended up leaving her gig early. She got like this sometimes, ‘irrationally violent’ the bar tender says but it was completely rational. Being called such heinous things by hecklers. She’s had enough! Anytime she stands up for herself she ends up being in trouble. ❛I got put in time out again, but I sneaked out. Arthur is probably fuming right now.❜ @healspake

[scourgekeep-blog]

&&. companionship is a form most  elusive,  as hard to hold between fingers like water.

it’s easier to end than begin ---- -- words such as ‘ i look forward to working with you ’ or ‘ let’s do our best together as partners ’ are only ever kind formalities tae has had spoken to her ( never one to reciprocate, if only out of necessity to higher ups for a display of respect ). fingers play with each other, picking and wiggling in slow unnoticable manners unles one were to directly look at them and stare. when a knuckle POPS--- accidentally, because oh no, she’s applied too much presure out of dismay--- it stands out to her. she’s been treated well from a young age: due to her intelligence and anti--social nature that makes her seem pleasantly well mannered. treated with authority she otherwise ought not have had in the first place.

it humbles her already miniscule ( near nonexistent ) pride into the floor, where it very well stands a chance of blooming the most pitiful kind of flower, tae is sure. whether she knew age or not this woman was ( and forever, will ) be her superior into this field. as with everyone else that forms this agency from the foundation of stone and wood up. words of frequency cannot force itself free from her wretched jaws and tongue: but it is hopefully not expected from the way takemi properly greets her, body bent into a bow.

❛  nice to meet you, yosano -- san.  ❜  // @healspake .  ♡ .

[faustianbargaining-blog]

he’d come out to escape the crowd -- wasn’t usually one to ditch his own parties, but he wasn’t feeling especially entertaining tonight.  just wanted a cigarette or three, and maybe a drink later.  hadn’t expected to run into anyone, though he’s not sure why; he was still in public, after all.

       ❛ -- mind if i smoke? ❜

@healspake liked for a playwright.