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Haircut and Care - Miscellaneous Content
content warning for: [ none ]
[ part one: Chimera Garden here ]
"And, what kind of haircut are you in for today, dear?"
The stylist stood with a type of confidence that Himari always envied. It was late at night, far later than Himari ever thought a salon would ever be opened and taking clientele. It was nearly midnight, not a single other person in this store.
Pushing her wild bangs back with her hands, Himari blinked slowly as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she observed her mirror image. What kind of haircut she wanted...
"I'm... not sure. It's been so long..."
Her fingers shifted as she moved her hair around with a confused expression. Messy. It was messy, choppy, totally uneven. The split ends were rougher than a mama's boy going no contact with his mother.
She hadn't gotten a proper haircut since she was young. Hell, she really couldn't even be fully bothered to take care of it most days, leaving it unbrushed and unwashed for weeks at a time. She was aware it didn't do her any favors, but...
It was something that took her hours to take care of. Hours she didn't enjoy spending. So she'd put it off, and it'd become a mess that took her hours to take care of. Every time, like clockwork.
The young, blonde-haired stylist smiled as she took a step behind the stylist's chair. Her fingers outstretched, gently running through the full length of the mess Himari called her hair.
"It sure is long-" Himari wasn't sure of the full length of her hair herself. It was around the back of her knees, last she checked? It was simply... too much for her alone to handle. "- I don't think I've seen a young woman with hair this long in a good, decent while!"
Her fingers twiddled nervously as she averted her gaze from the mirror. The stylist continued, with that same Barbie bright smile she wore when Angel dropped her off. His own personal suggestion. Normal salons don't always take clients this late, do they?
Her fingers clipped against her hair, just above her ears. Himari glanced up in curiosity, intrigued by her stylist's actions.
"What are you doing...?" "Testing. We use our fingers to gauge the length of your haircut. A pixie cut would look... kind of like this!"
Wiggling her fingers, the stylist laughed heartily. Then, shifting them down, she hummed. Her slender fingers, showcasing different lengths of haircuts she could get, showing that scared little girl different versions of herself. Versions of her that she wasn't even sure could exist outside of a positive imagination. Watching intently, Himari suddenly raised a finger, tapping her lips in thought.
"I think... maybe the one by my shoulders seems like a good length?"
She wasn't quite sure what she was talking about. If she were being completely honest. Taking the suggestion into consideration, the stylist walked around her chair, she nodded. A small smile formed on her face, one that Himari didn't quite understand.
"Of course! We can cut it down to this length, I can give you some layers, shape your hair to better suit your cute little face ^^"
Glancing out the corner of her eye, she could see the stylist grabbing a pair of scissors and some hairspray.
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"You look terrible." "You are so rude."
Himari sighed as she pulled her hair back into a messy bun. Her fingers twitched slightly as she pulled her ramen bowl closer to her.
"You should get a haircut."
"Megumi... I don't think you're one to judge. I mean..."
Pointing at her elder brother's head with her chopsticks, Himari leaned over. Biting into the crunchy chicken with a hum, she shook her head. His hair was spiky; honestly, it defied gravity. She never understood it.
"Just look at you. You look like an off-brand super saiyan."
Scoffing in response, he shook his head. Noodles were pinned between his metal chopsticks, the broth rich and creamy underneath in the black bowl. Between all the more serious events in his life... stupid bickering felt oddly... nice.
"But, don't you think you should get a haircut? It's been years since you last got one."
He wasn't wrong; it had been years since she had gotten a haircut. And her hair was quite... heavy. It hurt like hell to have it in a ponytail for too long, but it wasn't quite sustainable to have it in a braid long term either.
"You should at least think about it. Getting a haircut might be a good reintroduction to society."
A good reintroduction to society... Her chopsticks clinking against the side of the bowl. Her eyes darted away from the bowl, mindlessly picking at the fried chicken on the side of the bowl. Her lips pursed slightly as she picked it up, shaking her head.
"Maybe... I could ask Angel to help me make an appointment, I suppose...?"
"Angel... he's Satoru's kid, isn't he?"
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"And... done!"
The stylist grabbed the edge of Himari's chair, spinning her around to face the mirror. Her hands gently fluffed Himari's hair. Her hair was shorter now, reaching her shoulders. It was layered beautifully, each layer ironed in a way that was very pretty. It flared out towards the world, shaggy but not quite messy.
Himari's hands lightly touched her bangs, squinting at herself in the mirror. She even cut her bangs... Himari wasn't totally aware of how long they had until she no longer had to move them out of her face manually.
"It's a wolfcut. Simple, but elegant, and it frames your face quite well."
Her hands danced across her hair, gently lifting up layered flaps of her hair.
"You can use a simple shampoo and conditioner to wash your hair; you don't need anything all too fancy to care for it. It's rather easy to maintain as well."
"Okay..."
She looked like a completely new person. Totally different. Even if she came in, wearing the same plain black sweater and black tights, she felt... lighter. Like a weight was lifted off her shoulders...
Metaphorically and literally.
Bowing slightly, she thanked the lady profusely, handing over the black card she had been given for her day to day expenses.
"Oh, uhm... did you have any suggestions for a good shampoo and conditioner?"
...
Stepping out into the cool night, she glanced around with a nervous expression. That's when she spotted him, sitting on the top of a bench, bundled up in that signature large, light blue jacket, his white leg warmers pulled over the black boots he had worn, his soft white hair blowing in the gentle wind. His eyes were fluttered closed, the light blue cloud shaped sunglasses laying on the floor in front of him.
She walked over quietly until she stood side by side with him. She bent down, picking up the fallen sunglasses carefully. Holding them up, she paused. No cracks... that was good. Slipping the sunglasses into the small paper bag she held (which contained a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of conditioner, a tub of leave-in conditioner, and some cute hair clips that the stylist suggested to her,) Himari gleamed a closer look at her friend.
He had a peaceful expression on his face, his chest lightly rising and falling. She could have sworn she heard him snoring. She reached out her hand hesitantly, gently pushing it against his face.
"Angel?"
No response. Himari paused a moment before gently nudging him with her hand. Her fingers pinched his cheeks, tugging on his face in two different directions.
"Angie, Angie wake UP."
...
Oh. Oops.
Peeking over the bench, she peered down at the now knocked-over Angel. Perhaps, in her attempts to wake him up... she might have knocked him off the bench. He groaned in pain, cracking a dissatisfied eye open.
"... Sorry."
"..."
Sitting up, Angel yawned, rubbing his hand through his long white hair. His back ached, but, he didn't quite have it in him to be angry with Himari. (At least, she didn't immediately resort to punching him, this time, he thought.)
"Your hair looks nice. How was the stylist?"
Himari climbed off the bench, walking around. She bent down slightly, holding her hand out to Angel. He glanced at it for a second before grabbing onto it. Pulling him up off the ground, she rubbed her head in embarrassment.
"She was okay. Very nice, very patient. Not super judgmental. She even..."
Holding up the bag, she shrugged sheepishly. She knew next to nothing about proper hair care... so having suggestions were a bit of a life saver.
"That's good."
Yawning again, he rubbed the back of his neck. Stretching, he glanced at his watch. 2am. It wasn't a terrible time, but, it was still... rather late.
"Why don't we stop by a gas station on the way back? We can get something to eat... and I can get a coffee."
"Coffee? At this time of night? Really?"
Giving Himari a side eye, Angel scoffed. Crossing his arms, he shook his head disappointedly. Food... Himari couldn't disagree, however... coffee? At this time of the night? How was that a good idea? It felt more like a disaster waiting to happen.
"People don't like me when I'm not caffeinated... You wouldn't understand, Hermit Himmie."
"I thought people don't like you by default."
Perhaps that was... a little rude. But, Hermit Himmie? He totally had some pushback coming. Reaching over, his fingers lightly tapped against Himari's under eyes, before full on grasping her face. Her shriek was muffled as his hands clasped it tightly. His blue eyes, striking as ever, gleamed with something similar to disapproval.
"People don't like my dad, by default. Which is valid! I don't like him either. Unfortunately-" "You're his splitting image?"
She knew what he was going to say. Not like he was predictable, in reality, that was far, far from the truth. No man Himari's ever met would be less predictable than Angel Satoru.
The boy who ran away from home when he was young and made a life through the blood and scars on his own two hands, the son of the world's strongest and most famous sorcerer. A boy who, in theory, could have had the entire world at his fingertips, but...
"You know me so well."
His smiles never quite reached his eyes.
...
His arm linked with her own as they walked down the softly lit streets. The buzzing of the night filled the air. Himari noticed the birds as they walked past. The birds... they always seemed like they were watching them.
"Are those birds following us?"
Himari couldn't help but point it out. Her fingers pointed at a small, purple-looking bird, perched up on the sidewalk just a bit away from where they stood.
Angel glanced over his shoulder, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the crow. Crows... his eyes narrowed. He held out a finger for a moment before leaning into Himari.
"Wait here."
She blinked, her fingers tugging on her sweater nervously. Looking around, she noticed he had... disappeared?
Basic invisibility... Himari knew Angel didn't inherit anything impressive from his lineage, but she knew he had basic invisibility abilities. It was always a bit... strange, though. One moment, he was there. The next? He was gone.
She didn't have any clue where he could have gone... until he reappeared, slightly down the street, further from her. His hands clasped around the odd purple bird, his white hair blowing in the wind. The bird screeched in panic, struggling in his hands to no avail.
Himari ran over, down the street to where Angel was standing.
"Gotcha, bitch!"
Angel's hands grasped again even tighter, blood dripping down his hands. The bird cried out in panic, trying desperately to get out of his hold. Himari reached out, her hands gently rolling against the head of the bird.
"It... looks like a dove. A purple dove?"
"But look-" Angel adjusted his grip, extending the wing of the bird gently. The tips of the bird's wings were a light blue color... it reminded Himari of a gemstone of some kind. "- Isn't that strange? Oh, and on its back..."
His fingers shifted around, as if he was used to this. Himari wasn't sure what to say, about the odd but gentle preciseness he handled the bird with. Leaning closer, she noticed the odd, flower-like pattern on its back, that same color as the faded tips on its wings. It reminded her of stained glass murals.
"Huh..."
"It reminds me of something... but I'm not... totally sure what it is."
His fingers twitched slightly, the pain of his torn skin finally seeming to sink in. Angel grimaced slightly, trying to hold onto the bird. However, as it nipped at his hand again, he hissed.
"....!"
The bird flew away.
...
"Your hands..."
Himari grabbed Angel's hands delicately as she surveyed the damage. Realizing it wasn't all too extensive, she let out a deep sigh. He wasn't bleeding too badly, and the scratches didn't seem too, too terrible, but still...
"... I probably shouldn't have grabbed it like that, huh? I mean, I didn't think it was gonna fucking bite me, but..."
She shook her head as he laughed sheepishly. He was so careless sometimes... it was only a weird-looking dove, but... she was worried about him. One day, he'd take something on out of impulse... something he wouldn't be able to handle.
"It's fine, we can just buy some bandages at the gas station. We're almost there anyways!" "Maybe you do need that cup of coffee... that was really stupid of you to do."
#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ β // data recollection ]#[ miscellaneous works ]#oc writing#writing#[ mentions: megumi fushiguro and gojo satoru ]#( this girl finally got a hair cut im so proud of her. )#( i love the angel himari friendship. they're such goobers. )#( and seeing Himari's small but casual growth... its nice. )
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The Boardwalk by the Shoreline - Spook Shack Stories: Rondo City
content warning for: [ minor mentions of blood and scraps from falling ]
They say that the boardwalk has the power to help people find true love. The wind has the power to blow you right into the arms of your forever one.
Her fingers reached out, the tips of her nails just narrowly missing the edge of her hat. Watching as her mother's hat was swept away by the wind, the girl huffed as she bunched up the bottom of her white summer dress. Her sandals slammed against the concrete as she chased after the rouge hat.
She swore if the wind were a sentient person, it surely would have been playing with her.
Her fiery red hair blew in the wind as she ran, as fast as her little legs would take her. It was something she was well-known for, her soft, bright red hair. Not many people in Rondo City had that same, striking red hair, after all.
People watched as she chased after the runaway sunhat. Did it never occur to them that... maybe... someone could help her catch it? Twilight never understood how people's minds worked.
Her fingers grasped at air, just narrowly missing it every time. At this point, it had to be comedic timing. It just had to be.
...
The sidewalks were always a little uneven around the arcade strip of the boardwalk. The elevation shift was hard to notice at an eye level, yet, the shift was drastic enough that people walking routinely would trip when walking over it. Twilight had tripped over it a couple of times herself. (She swore, the shift always seemed to move. It was like magic.)
"Shit..!"
The shift caught her off guard, sending the already stumbling girl crashing into the concrete. The concrete shredded her wrists and her knees, a spotty red color staining the sidewalk. Pain shot through her nerves like a hot knife through butter.
"Ow...."
Her body trembled slightly as she lifted up her arm, a crimson liquid dripping down it. Her eyes welled up from the sharp pain that accompanied every injured limb. She knew she couldn't lie on the floor forever, even if it hurt.
Her hands trembled as she forced herself off the floor. Her lips pursed as she gleamed the bottom of her favorite, white summer dress. Crimson blood stained the white satin fabric and the overlaid white lace. She lifted up her trim, taking a glance at her knees. The skin there was shredded, blood dripping down towards her sandals. Oh. That fall fucked her up badly.
Her eyes scanned the area, tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. Her fist gripping into a tight ball, trying to simply bear through it. The pain. Her mother's hat, where was it?
Her eyes swept across the boardwalk, and then, a heaviness sank deep, deep inside her chest. It was gone. It was gone. The tears welled in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. No, not fall. Pour.
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"My sweetheart, my darling angel!"
Her mother's hands held onto the young girl's cheeks, a gentle kiss placed on her forehead. The young girl laughed, reaching outward to the older woman. Out... to mother.
"Oh, we're going to the beach today! Mama knows you love the beach!"
The beach... Twilight has always loved the sea, even from a very young age. She loved to feel the sand beneath her feet as she ran towards the water. That crystal, blue water, with that captivating, white sea foam.
"Can we have a picnic by the sea, mama?"
"Of course, my angel! But... before you can go, we need to buy you a sunhat!"
Her head tilted to the side in confusion, her red curls swaying with vigor. Wave blue eyes stared at her mother, reflecting her mischievous smile. Her fingers curled, pointing towards the woven beige hat on her head, decorated with a simple, but gorgeous yellow ribbon.
Her black hair curled slightly as her mother leaned in, her hands gently clasping around her own face.
"A sunhat, just like the one mommy is wearing. We can get you one just like this one! Oh, but we can get it with a blue ribbon."
Twilight's hands, small but mighty, reached out to the top of her head. She patted the top of her head, feeling the strands of her hair in her little fingers. She reached out with one of her hands, grazing over the woven fabric of the sunhat her mother wore. It didn't feel like her hair.
"Sunhat..."
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"-ss? Miss?"
A foreign voice, thick and vicious as honey, reached Twilight's ears as she blinked back tears. Using her good arm as she feebly tried to dry her tears, she squinted through blurry vision.
A head of long, straggly beach blonde hair broke through the tear-blurred vision, a large black hat perched on the back of his head. Dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, slightly obscuring the grey eyes that sat hidden behind them.
Twilight grimaced, pain rising in her knees. Trembling slightly, she tilted her head to the side, her red hair swaying with the movement. Her eyes scanned the mysterious man up and down, taking note of his appearance.
What kind of person wears a long double-breasted black coat in the 90-degree summer heat? How he hasn't passed out from heat exhaustion was a mystery to her... but, she supposed she didn't look all that hot herself. Maybe she shouldn't be judging....
"I do apologize for disturbing you, but..."
His arm shifted slightly, drawing attention to his hand. In his hand, he held something... a woven straw hat, with a yellow ribbon around the base.
"Is this yours? I couldn't help but notice your... rather unfortunate fall chasing after it."
"Oh, uhm... yes, that is mine."
A polite smile formed on the man's face as he nodded gently. Extending his arm gently, he held it out towards her. Reaching out for it, Twilight hissed in pain.
"Ow... ow..."
Terrible time to forget which arm you injured. Pain shot through her nerves, a crippling feeling rising in her body like boiling water. Her legs trembled, her own weight suddenly feeling too much for her to shoulder. She swayed slightly from side to side, the ground feeling unstable beneath her feet. Her eyes drooped slightly, her head feeling light. She couldn't even brace herself for another fall.
...
Her hair curled against the gentleman's shoulder as he cradled her in his arm. Still clasping her hat in his hand, the man's brows furrowed. His grey eyes flickered between the blood on her knees and her sudden faintness.
"Are you okay, miss? You're bleeding pretty badly too... does seeing blood make you lightheaded?"
His fingers gently pressed against her forehead, her lips pursing in embarrassment. She raised her good arm, weakly patting him against the chest. Her voice was so soft, it was almost like a whisper.
"... very."
Her voice quivered. It was a little embarrassing for her to admit, but... the man chuckled softly as he shifted his hold, gently leading her to a nearby bench. Limping along, Twilight closed her eyes. The world truly must have had it out for her.
"Wait here. I'll go ask the arcade staff if they have a first aid kit."
Twilight's fingers trembled slightly as she shifted around on the bench. Her eyes fell on the straw hat that the man had placed by her side. Her mother's favorite sunhat. Picking it up, she observed the hat with careful scrutiny. Her fingers gently ran against the woven straw and the yellow ribboning, checking it for any tears or soot. Nothing. It's like he caught it before nature could take hold of it any further.
The sound of footsteps clicking against the ground rose to her ears, her eyes glancing up in response. The man carried a small, white first aid kit in his hands, a small smile on his face.
"May I?"
Gesturing to her knees with his arm, the man waited patiently. Nodding gently, Twilight watched as the man bent down onto one knee, popping open the first aid kit with his hands. Leaning forward, she peeked down at the man.
"I'm sorry... I'm sure this isn't how you thought your day was gonna go, huh?"
"Haha... no, not quite. Life is full of surprises, isn't it? My name is Emmerence. What's yours?"
"My name is Twilight. It's nice to meet you."
His fingers lingered along the back of her knee, gently wiping away the blood with a cotton swab. Humming, Emmerence cleaned the wound with an odd attentiveness. Something warm rose in her chest.
"Do you uhm... do you like walking on the boardwalk?"
"...? Ahh, it's a beautiful place, but the sun here is... a little too strong for my liking."
Shaking his head as he responded, his chest rising and falling slowly as he gripped her thigh tightly. Shifting the gauze and the wrap between his fingers, Emmerence leaned closer. He felt so... warm.
"Too strong? The sun?"
"I'm rather sensitive to the light, you see... on days when it's too bright, I get really lightheaded."
Reaching up with one of his hands, he pushed the rim of his hat with a cheeky smile. There was an odd gentleness in his voice. A small oh formed on Twilight's face, before she nodded gently. Lightheaded and sensitive in the light...
Her knees still ached, but his gentle and soft touches soothed the pain. Shifting off his knee, he stood up straight, dusting the boardwalk dust off his pants. Then, he slid onto the bench next to Twilight's side.
"Your arm?"
"Oh, uhm... here."
Holding her arm out shakily, Twilight managed a weak smile. The positioning was a little awkward; she wouldn't lie. Stretching her arm out like that made the already sore muscles even more sore than before.
...
She didn't realize how nice Emmerence smelled until now.
Well, not in a creepy way, of course. Snuggled between Emmerence and the beechwood bench, she couldn't help it. The boardwalk always smells like sea salt and firewood smoke... especially at night, when all the open-fire restaurants are in full swing. But... there's something about him that smells so... sweet?
Her hair curled against her neck as she leaned into his shoulder, her eyes fluttering as he continued to dress her wounds. He smelled like... was that cinnamon? It smelled like cinnamon.
Like one of those fall air fresheners you hang on your car that makes your car smell like a warm cinnamon pie fresh out of the oven... He smelled magnetic. Again... not in a weird or creepy way.
"Are you okay, Twilight?"
"You smell really nice. Do you use a cologne or perfume?"
Pausing a moment, Emmerence lowered Twilight's arm gently. Placing his hand on his chest lightly, his brows furrowed before he shook his head. Twilight's eyes widen slightly in response. He doesn't use anything?
"No... I just... smell like this? I suppose."
"Really? You smell really nice, I just thought..."
Rubbing her chin in deep thought, her lips pursed in confusion. Maybe she really was mistaken...
His fingers brushed against her forehead gently, Emmerence leaning in with a smile. Her face flushed slightly as she averted her gaze. They were strangers, and yet... she felt so comfortable around him. It was... odd, she thought.
"You smell rather nice yourself, Twilight. Do you wear something?"
"Huh? Uhm..."
Her fingers twitched slightly as she averted her gaze, her fingers scrunching around the white fabric of her dress. She did wear something, yes, but... she never imagined someone would have noticed it. She felt unreasonably embarrassed by the thought.
"I do. It's apple and champagne scented perfume."
"Apples and champagne... It smells delightful. I'll have to look into buying one for myself."
Twilight could feel her face becoming even redder. It wasn't embarrassing, but, she wasn't even sure what it was. She'd attempt to run away, but she was sure she'd trip and fall and skin her knees even worse. She felt she had already made enough of a fool of herself for one day.
"Hey... you're not doing much tonight, are you?" Emmerence's voice snapped her back from her seemingly never-ending embarrassment... He spoke with such grace and elegance. She had totally forgotten what it was he even asked her. "No, I don't think so...??????"
"Then... would you like to stop by a diner and get some dinner with me?" Her face flushed. He was quite forward and rather charming, too. "I'll carry you~ I'm worried you might fall, and bust your knees up again."
"Okay, that was unnecessary... but dinner...? I think I'd like that. Uhm, if you're. willing to take me. That is. Uhm. You're paying, though."
"... if that's what you wish, my dearest partner."
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They say that the boardwalk has the power to help people find true love. The wind has the power to blow you right into the arms of your forever one.
They say wishes travel along the wind, and it's those wishes that help the wind bring people together with their forever one. Wishes from the lonely, the longing, wishes from those long gone.
The sea carries hopes, like bottled messages drifting in the stars. It may be staggered for a while, but eventually, it'll wash up, right where it needs to be seen.
A wish from a mother who only wishes for someone to care for her daughter the way she deserves to be treated. Even if a true "forever" is still several years away.
Even we believe that... even reformed criminals can be allowed a happy ending. And it carries that along the wind, sounding off like wind chimes, with a slight scent of apples and cinnamon to boot.
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#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ β // data recollection ]#[ Spook Shack Stories ]#oc writing#writing#[ its. kind of short but its also been a while since I've gotten to. write something fr fr and. ]#[ i kind of got distracted in the middle of it but im not taking it too seriously. i think. ]#[ i dunno i want something. happy in my life. considering how shitty its been lately. ]#[ its like. soulmates. but. shipped by the wind and the sea. ]#[ i dunno it was a nice little short story i had fun with it ]#[ experimenting with Twi and Rue pre. twi and rue i guess. experimenting with their first meeting ]#[ i dunno there's just something very. sweet and endearing about them and their relationship and how they. actually interact with each othe#and how tender and loving and aaaaaa i explode ]#[ oh and then there's the snippet of Astra and baby Twi and. i sigh. sadly. i shake my head. ]#[ i flop over. face first on the floor. and then i cry. ]
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love the formatting! following just for that. also great tag sorting!
Moderator (OOC) // aww?? thank you???? i worked really hard on it, it's nice to see people like it! hopefully maybe you'll find something else you like. thanks for stopping by.
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" Much like Alice, you're just one survivor tipping to the depths of wonderland. One that wants your blood spilt for your sins. "
SHOW RATING: β
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PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT THIS EPISODE CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING TRIGGERS:
Bullying, identity loss, self-deprecation, intrusive thoughts, self-sabotaging behavior, dehumanization, unreliable narration, suicidal ideation, suicide, self-harm, tragedy/no comfort, physical and emotional abuse (implied).
IF YOU WISH TO TUNE OUT OF THIS EPISODE, YOU MAY STOP HERE OR BLOCK THE TAG.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.
For all your life, you were simply regarded as a joke.
It was ironic, because you know people can see each other in a better light than that. But when you ask others what they see you, the most you'd get is that you were like a joker with them.
Someone who brings a smile to their face, someone who stands out, someone who is so wildly... Different. Perhaps outside of the normal they're used to. Someone that is weird.
Abnormal.
In this world, people like them are scrutinized. Segregated. Even treated like some form of trash. And although some hoped that people wouldn't treat each other like unwanted pests, they knew better than to let those thoughts slip.
You were oblivious to it. A perfect target for those to put you in place.
The comments you often hear vary. From those who you consider 'friends', they would often joke about how you act. Sometimes, it was mutual; you would tease and jeer when they screw up, and they would do the same to you.
But to them, it becomes more than simple jeers when they point out your flaws.
You still remember them. The way they'd joke at how you'd leave them, how you simply forget when they were better, how they would say you're more emotional than the others...
The way they smiled and joked, whereas you would simply feel hurt but try to laugh it off, thinking it was only a simple tease like any other.
You used to point out by joking about their own flaws, but when you do, it was like they were offended. They never took it well, which is why you try to shut it down, but it was like it fell on deaf ears.
No matter what you did, it would only point to your sensitivity. You were different, after all.
Unlike your peers, you were considered as one of the 'abnormal ones'βor, in technical terms, one of the 'maskless'. Those who you can read like an open book, and those that are often jeered because they were simply lower than those with it.
It was sickening, with how they would sometimes address you as such without knowing.
"You only say that because you're one of the maskless," one of your friends said. "I thought you wouldn't be so sensitive."
Yes. Sensitivity is something that those with their agenda are able to differentiate, but those who are different cannot. It becomes a running gag of sorts, simply because they almost feel attached to them so easily.
It, ironically, shows weakness whenever someone does. A flaw in the otherwise perfect system, so to speak.
It was a normal day when you met with your companions again, laughing and joking as you usually do. They had their masks up and fitted on their face, but the discussion simply turned itself into one of emotion.
"I don't usually overreact like that," you told your friends, but one simply adjusted their attire and hummed, seemingly amused that you denied it.
"Really?" they asked, turning their head akin to a child who seems to wish to listen to an adult tell them what's wrong. "But you're like her. You two are very open about your emotions, it's obvious when you two found something so upsetting. Unlike us, who have enough poise to act like we aren't hurt when we do."
Usually, you shrug those comments off. To you, they are usually blank and general statements, not worthy of the time to give it a second thought if you could help it. But today, it feels somewhat harder to shrug them off, especially with the way they made it sound.
They made it sound like a personal jab to you. A backstab, digging the knife further the longer you let the silence go on.
"I'm not, though," you said, diffusing the situation. "She's more open than I am."
But you simply heard them laugh.
The knife is digging deeper into your flesh.
"Yeah, yeah, and I'm suddenly emotionally aware of everything," they joke, but you can tell there was an edge to that statement. "Anyway, you know that..."
And as swift as that jab came, it went away. Still, it didn't mean that their words didn't leave a bleeding mark on you, judging by how you simply turned your head, ignoring the giggles and whispers from your supposed companions.
This was the normal youβre used to: a life of jokes and jeers, and one where you are the subject of said βteasingβ. The ones youβre with all your life all have different masks and faces, but they all look at you like a party animal, befitting a circus thatβs falling apart out of misery.
You tried to be like them, to wear a mask and act like youβre not one of the maskless. You refused to act like the minority, who sheds tears of delusion and smiles that taste like bitter joy.
And yet, as you hung with them, you were simply proven that you were isolated. That you didnβt belong, both maskless and masked.
You hardly remembered the times you were accepted as one of the minority. Even amongst those you considered like you, they made it clear that they werenβt welcome, so they would also partake in the things your friends did.
Their scowls and glares would eat at your skin, while the ones who are blessed to have masks can hide the look of disgust as you simply dealt with the bleeding wounds from their words.
There is no such thing as happiness in this bitter world.
A world that decides you, alone, must not exist.
Despite living a life worthy of its misery, it wasnβt all that bad.
Back then, it was like the others: positive, full of life, and animated. In a way, it made you feel like you were at homeβlike you truly belonged in a world as such, even if it had cruelty hidden in its seams.
As a child, you were unaware of what goes on behind the scenes. To your perspective, all of that was for the adults to worry about, and it wasnβt as though they needed the children to concern themselves with the misery hidden in those smiles.
Though, sometimes, you find yourself acutely aware of how cruel other children like you can be.
It was when you were 14 that you noticed how everyone started to treat you differently. Some were less open to you about how they feel, speaking that they themselves didnβt see the point in being friendly to one of the βmasklessβ.
Maskless. What an ugly term.
You never liked that term.
Even when you told the others you werenβt like those measly maskless children, they would simply sneer and say you were a liar. You had their face, one told you so boldly. You had the curse of the maskless, the other screamed.
You were all taught of what masked and maskless were, but you never remembered that the maskless were considered a curse. Alas, you can only steel yourself as you try to insist that they werenβt, that you werenβt a curse.
Despite being young, you already felt that they were accusing you of what you arenβt. Maybe it was a delusion of sorts, but you always felt that the label itself never fit you.
Alas, the others didnβt agree. They didnβt even listen to your pleas. All they wanted to hear was the sound of their own voice, and the majority of the chanting of your supposed, cursed label of the maskless.
It was that day when your eyes were open to the cruelty of the world, and the misery within it. And when it did, the days you used to frolic and enjoy with a smile had long since ended, becoming twisted and tainted with tears and loneliness.
You can only lament as you remembered how lonely it felt as a child back then. Maybe it was the times changing, or maybe it was because all of you were βgrowing upβ. But to you, you never felt that stageβthe stage of βgrowing upβ, just like the other masked children you used to be friends with.
Alas, since then, the times have remained the same as they were. It was due to being labeled a βmasklessβ that youβve learned to disguise yourself, keep the imperfections at bay with a βmaskβ of your own. It may be crooked, yes, but it wasnβt enough to break apart with one gust of wind.
It was the thing you wore for years. You made it with your hands, now dirtied with the truth and pain from being teased and mocked. Though it had endured changes the older you got, it remained the same as you remembered it to be.
That was, until you decided to take on a new hobby. One that would still stick by your side, like another lonely companion in need of a friend.
People watching.
It was the simplest hobby you took, ever since society decided to regard you as an outcast. Sure, it hurts sometimes, but you were one of the minorityβand the few things that can bring you some kind of kinship was watching others live their lives as they are, their masks pristine and absent of blemishes.
It was your only way to grasp how to act in society, as cruel as it may be sometimes. Even if they act robotic or look superficial, you found it fascinating to watch them.
After all, it was the only thing that doesnβt feel like needles on skin. Especially from those who would discriminate against you and regard your identity as nothing but a mistake personified.
Watching others bond for years shaped how you should behave. It made you a recluse, but it also made you keenly aware of human behavior. Even if you detest those that arenβt like you, you find them intriguingβtheir masks act more like a giveaway to what they are, unlike the minority who had nothing to hide.
Yes, youβre aware that you couldnβt attain the same things they could. You donβt have the same rights that they do, and the privileges they get seem like paradise on Earth. Though, despite the curse and bad hand that life itself gave you, it did give you an ace that no masked individual can get.
Unlike you, those who had masks as their face had no heart to speak of.
Emotions to those with masks are foreign. Although they harp and preach over having control, they do not have control of how they can feel things easier. Hence, the comments that maskless, flawed as they are, were able to excel in that job.
It was something you still believed was your ace, even to this very moment. Even as you did your usual habit and watched others go about their lives, the comments of your βfriendsβ in the past and present, and the misery you felt in your life, you couldnβt tell if it was a disadvantage or not.
It was the only thing that held you together. Without it, you are nothing.
βHave you heard of the memory thief recently?β
βOh? Ah, you must mean him, do you?β
Memory thief?
βIndeed! Thereβs been a surge of his activity, Iβm surprised that the government has yet to deal with the issue.β
That certainly wasnβt in your list to hear from others today.
To many, memory thieves are known to live by their titleβthey were a group of vigilantes, tasked to go after those they think that sinned with the right price. When a personβs mask is stolen (or even their badge, if they were of higher priority), it is usually marked as the work of the memory thief, stealing their identity to enact their mischievous ways.
Each memory thief acts differently, but the only thing thatβs common is how they have an agenda. And with the current one they speak of, itβs a gander with whatever they had in mind that speaks to the public.
So to see that they were talking about the recent one, you can only hum and contemplate on it while the discussion switched from the new and famous memory thief.
If there's one thing you know when it comes to memory thieves, they are aware of the struggles of the maskless. Although they wouldn't dare to hurt one that is lesser in the hierarchy, they arenβt as kind when one of the maskless is targeted, or maybe even done something as immoral. Morality matters to the bunch, after all.
But back to the topic at handβtheyβre talking about one of the bigger memory thieves. From what youβve seen and heard around town, this memory thief likes to lie low and excels extremely well in his duties, even going so far as to surpass the former memory thief in his prime.
Some even say that he hides in the shadows, only coming out when one dared to ever say his name, or knows the means to be able to find him. And even then, you would be better to find someone decent, as he doesnβt take anything unless you truly had nothing to lose.
Hah. Nothing to lose. What a farce. It wasnβt like you had any semblance of care, considering that one has been checked out since the start.
Watching them leave, you simply glanced at your phone. A few articles flashed by as you scrolled to see what was made on the topic, some of them making zero sense and are even blasphemous with how much misinformation is spread in them.
[ MEMORY THIEF SIGHTED AT ββββββββ, RUMORED TO BE AFTER THE GOVERNOR OF THE OAK FAMILY! ]
[ CELEBRITY ββββββββββ BREAKS SILENCE BY A MEMORY THIEF?! ]
[ MEMORY THIEFβS HIDEOUT FOUND AT βββββββββ ββββββββ! ]
All of them spoke of him. Of the one you knew so well, considering how you had hisβ¦ contacts. Itβs all for the sake of βkeeping tabsβ, as he puts it, but maybe it was you excusing his actions.
You two are each otherβs βmasksβ, as much as you two detest it.
Glancing up at the sound of a ping, you skimmed at the name of the contactβsomeone messaged you, it seems, and it isnβt even a question as to who when you saw the name.
β¦
Heβs asking if you were free. For a talk, you could only think, but from the way it was phrased in riddle-like fashion, you could only assume that he wanted you for something. A job? An inquiry? Or just a simple βtalkβ, just like old friends with empty hearts?
Friends, huhβ¦
Were you two ever that close? Who knows. Not you, anyway.
Swiping your screen to answer it, you began to type the following.
You needed him for something, and he did the same to you. If you were right and this personβthis man you knew to be a memory thief, one rumored to be able to overthrow the former in his prime and moreβhas no capacity in his heart to judge, maybe he can be the one to help you.
All of them are, but he was a special case, upholding the lack of judgment and the abundance of. To him, what is good and wrong is decided upon a scale, judged by the blind and dictated by the deaf.
Dysfunctional? Sure, one can say, but you found it functioning better than whatever was used before.
With one last tap, you sent the text to your friend, watching the icon turn greenβand the sent text being removed and changed to read. Your friend is swift when it comes to his contacts, including you, but you could only wonder how long he can uphold such a thing.
Had he known of your past, of your crimes and sins, would he consider you his associate? Or would he damn you, even if you were one of the maskless?
β¦
Ping!
[ Sure. Letβs meet at the cafe. Same time. ]
No time to debate now.
You need to go before the sun sets.
βHere,β a voice greets your ears, the sound of glass and ice clinking comes second as he slides you a drink that you enjoyed having. βFigured that you needed something to drink. You look tense.β
Leave it to the bartender to know whatβs wrong with you. Have you slacked off on that job, too?
Still, you thanked him and took a swig. The drink felt familiar and tasted familiar, but you could tell there was a hint of bitterness to itβsome that you were not soβ¦ Accustomed to, considering how you like them.
Ah, well. You canβt complain. Not when youβre here for a different reason entirely.
βIs there a reason why you asked for these services?β
Right. The services from him, who you know to be a part of that group.
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. It was a heavy one, and you were sure that he may not be prepared for it. As much as he acts like heβs prepared, some subject matters can be upsetting for the normal person.
It doesnβt help that despite his hidden agenda, he was a masked individual. Unlike you, a maskless abomination in the eyes of society.
βI simply want to be erased from this world,β you answered him, ignoring the sound of metal greeting silver and pausing a bit too long for your liking. βSociety thinks that my existenceβand others like mineβare nothing but a mistake. And I want to correct it.β
The silence is almost deafening, but you paid no heed, opting to simply take another sip of your drink to quell your nerves.
βAnd you think that what youβre doing will correct it?β
βYes,β you answered, looking at your drink, now half-empty from you drinking its contents. βItβs not like I have anything to lose at this point, right?β
Raising your head, you faced your friend. Brown hair, messy to a belief you thought it wasnβt possible, eyebags as deep as your own sins could take you, and an attire that says the man could barely afford to iron his clothes.
It was his own charm, something to make him distinct, and by God, you can say he did that right.
This man before you was no counselor, and he refused to be seen as one. Granted, if he ever did, it was to people he knew that needed βguidanceβ, and you were one of those lost souls.
He sighed, swirling a drink of his own.
βYouβre starting to sound like him with how youβre acting,β he pointed out, raising the glass in his hands to sip before putting it away. βEspecially with that mindset of yours. Are you sure you want to do this?β
You laughed as you downed the drink, but he didnβt do the same. A pity, considering you had hoped that he would understand what youβre feeling at that moment.
You two are different, and yet the same. Both of you had nothing to lose, after everything you two endured in a cruel world.
If it were set in a different universe, you think you two wouldβve been more than temporary companions. Perhaps lovers, too. But you know that you were a dead person walking, and he had his sights on something else that didnβt need your baggage.
Once again, you two are using each other for your own benefit.
Such a shame that said benefit will only make itself known when one drops dead.
βYes, I am,β you confirmed, shoving the now empty drink that used to house PotaciΓ³n de Guaya in it. βAre you going to stop me, Gallagher?β
Gallagher sighed.
βNo. I doubt sheβll accept it if I stopped someone from embracing death.β
Ah. He must mean her. How fortunate she must be.
βBut Iβll help you see something thatβll make things easier,β he continues, catching your attention. βThink of this as my own parting gift. You wonβt be coming around anymore to keep these nights from dragging on for too long, so I think itβs only better if you get something nice from this existence.β
He reaches out, offering his hand to your direction.
βCβmon. Finish your drinkβwe need to get there before sunrise.β
Heading to your destination, you could only look onwards as he walked to a train station. Sure, it looked like it had seen better days,Β but it remained intact than the other old ones, especially in a city as fast-paced and bustling as the one youβre in.
You never told him that you enjoyed things like thisβrelics of the past that were once there, mechanical inventions once regarded as glorious by the people before the advancements of technology, and yet he knew.
Walking forward, you both stepped over the rusted metal, some of the pieces you can see are gears and even body parts of the cyborgs. You wish you could get them, but you knew better.
Rusty metal would do no good to your body. It would only tarnish whatβs left unblemished, and certainly what is left not ruined by your own doing.
You didnβt need your own idiocy to prove that to you. Not now. Not ever.
Before your mind could spiral deeper, you felt calloused fingers grasp on your wristβblemished, cut, and bandaged to hide the ugly scars that rots in your body to this day.
Ah, you were lagging behind. Of course you would delay him. What were you thinking?
βCβmon,β he tells you, urging you forward, much like a parent to a child before they go astray. βI canβt have you touching anything thatβd cut you.β
Hah, he says that he truly cared. He only saw you as an inconvenience, didnβt he?
Still, you find nothing in your heart to tell him no. To stop and let you go, for you knew that you were going to touch it, that you were going to be stupid enough to get yourself cut, just like how you cut yourself so ofβ
βHey.β
Both hands were on your shoulders.
Heβs looking at you.
βYouβre listening to them again,β he tells you, his face stern but concerned. βFocus.β
You took a breath.
Itβs difficult to focus. He makes it so easy, but you find it so absurdly difficult. Itβs almost like the world is against you, but with a friend like him, you find the load slowly becoming easier, and you find in yourself to be able to let go.
When he lets go of you, you find yourself unknowingly reaching out to grab him⦠But hesitated. Perhaps it was unnatural to you, as you know that he wouldn't take your hand.
Much like the damned, you were never meant to have someone reach for you in return. So you let your hand down.
βI'm sorry,β you said to him, βI must be dead weight to you, aren't I?β
Gallagher raised an eyebrow at your direction. Maybe he wasn't expecting such a response, or maybe he was caught in something you knew.
β... You're putting words in my mouth,β he answered pointedly, but he didn't clarify as he began to walk down the road again.
Hah. So, you were right. You surely are dead weight to a man like him.
Following him, you could only look down at your hands. Dirtied, bandaged, and tainted with blood. Whose blood it was, you didn't know, but you always hid what was underneath those bandages you used.
In the past, you had a concrete identity. You always knew who you were, who you wanted to be, and who you used to be. That foundation was solid, and no one was able to rip it into shreds. No one was even able to pierce through your walls so easily.
That was, until that happened. Until everyone turned against you, regarding you as just another face that deserved to be mocked. People you used to know seem to distance themselves from you, spouting excuses and lies on why they can never be near you, why they couldn't help you, and why they don't want to even be seen with you.
It was subtle. It was gradual. And it hurts.
It hurt so much that you felt like you're making tallies on yourself. For every lie that was told, you marked it, and for every person that left, you left another.
Those were miniscule at first. They were easy to ignore, to pretend, but now it's become so big that excuses were more like those lies you were told.
You were just feeding a horrible addiction. That was what it felt like.
Now that you see how dirty they are, you were reminded of how it began. A simple coping mechanism became an addition, and it was something you couldnβt even break. It made you feel so weak, and it made you loathe what youβve done to yourself.
As those thoughts took a darker and twisted turn, you could hardly hear Gallagher stop in his tracks, causing you to bump into him. Grimacing, you could only turn to see why he had stopped, realizing that you were both standing at the end of the station, the fallen debris and absence of humankind making way to a sight you were unaware of.
The sun was rising in the horizon, the familiar rings of light shining from afar and causing the twilight sky to look like a painting coming to life. Sure, you could vaguely make out the buildings from afar, but they look more like miniscule details for how far you two went from the main attraction.
βBeautiful, huh?β you heard Gallagher ask, causing you to let out a sigh and nod.
βMhm,β you answered. βItβs gorgeous.β
The bartender nodded in approval, raising his hand to grab a cigar and lighter. Lighting up the butt of the cigar, he placed the stick in his mouth, took a whiff of smoke, and pulled away to exhale. You could faintly smell the scent of smoke, but today it didnβt feel like an unwelcome surprise.
βNow that weβre here,β you heard him begin, and the stare returnedβmost definitely from him, no doubtββLetβs talk about you. I know you have something more than just wanting to βcorrectβ your existence, so explain.β
You closed your eyes.
βIs someone pushing you to do this?β
βNo. No one pushed me to do this.β
βIs that so? Then why are you hesitating?β
βIβm not, Gallagher.β
βI know you well that youβre hiding something.β
βIβm not,β you insisted, yet when you looked at him, he remained composed.
βWhy are you grimacing, then?β
β¦ Grimacing?
βYouβve been avoiding the subject lately whenever I asked,β he pointed out, crossing his arms. βDonβt think that I havenβt seen you changing the subject when I asked you. Youβre doing it even now.β
You couldnβt even tell if he was lying, but you needed to prove him wrong. βIβm not, Gallagher. I justββ
βJust what? Trying to pretend in front of someone that knows you for 8 years in fear of being seen as a joke?β
β¦
You could only stare at Gallagher, his words hanging over your head with what he meant.
A joke. He said you were pretending in fear of being seen as a joke, and to him.
You let out the breath you were holding, your body tense as he continued to stare at you. Neither of you were going to stand down, but right now, it feels like you want the ground to sink so as to avoid the issue glaring at you.
He knows. He knows you and your quirks so well, it hurts to lie and pretend that he isnβt looking at the truth itself.
Lowering your head, you closed your eyes, body so tense, you felt like you might snap. βIβmβ¦ Itβs not like that,β you whispered, flinching when you felt his hand rest on your shoulder. βIt really isnβt like that, Gallagher. I wasnβtβ¦β
βI know,β you heard him say, gently interrupting you from your soon-to-be tangent. βIt may not be like that to you, but it is to me. Iβm your friend, after all.β
Friend. He says it so casually, but it feels like it was something else. Something you canβt discern.
βButβ¦ Youβre mad at me, right?β
He huffs.
βIβm only mad because you hid this from me, kid. Youβre as reckless as that gambler.β
You laughed at that.
βHahaβ¦ I guess he and I have that in common.β
Still, the tense atmosphere didnβt leave, judging by how Gallagher sighed and lowered his hand.
βAside from that, itβs about time you come clean, kid,β he told you. βLook at me. Iβm on your side, and Iβll make sure to get whatever you want done. Just tell me what youβve been hiding, or else Iβll charge you.β
You know that he wouldnβt, but it was difficult to tell if he was even joking.
βI doubt youβd do it, though,β you quipped, but you placed a hand on your chest with a smile. βBut maybe I shouldnβt jinx it. After all, like I told you before, I have nothing to lose. Not anymore.β
The memory thief shook his head, but he said nothing more to that. In his eyes, it would be akin to finding a needle in a haystack should he try to convince you to live long enough. Especially in a world whoβs lies are believed to be the truth.
βThat aside, you said that itβs time I should come clean, huh?β
Gallagher turned his head upwards, raising an eyebrow. He did say it, but he didnβt know if you would actually take his word for it. Knowing your behaviorβ¦
βI did,β he answered with a curt nod. βAre you planning to tell me the truth? Or are we going to dance around the issue, kid?β
Your eyes narrowed at those words, but once again, you didnβt dare comment on it. It was only right for you to finally tell him what youβre hiding. After all, heβs willing to go this far to honor your request, charged or not.
β... I am.β
All you can hope is that he wouldnβt take offense to it.
Gallagher was an interesting man.
If you asked anyone what he was, there were varying responses to it. Some say that he is an enigma, while others say he's not. One could say he is actually open to people, while another can say that he is an eerie being in a humanβs flesh.
But if you asked him directly, he'd have no answer. After all, why would he, when you question the existence of an entire being?
For the longest time, he felt that way. He felt that it was nonsensicalβto question who Gallagher is is to question what he really is. He knew that the man that existed once as Gallagher was but a myth, or more like a corpse feigning and pretending to be a human being. He knew that Gallagher was just some fool that died years before this impostor claimed his face, and rewrote destiny like it was in his fingers.
Gallagher, in and of itself, was someone else's existence prewritten. Before the tragedy, before the hierarchy, before the incident has even occurred. But that man is long gone. What is before people is now a shell of him, harboring it and its existence.
Maybe he shouldn't say it so pessimistically. That sounds like he was discrediting what the original man did, but what could he do? All he knows is to perform.
Perform, perform, perform, perform until he drops dead.
So to think that in this performance, he's a memory thief, is honestly laughable. He has done worse than steal βmemoriesββGod forbid that people dare askβbut he digressed. The one thing that he hadn't expected was the concept of being seen as a companion of sorts.
A person they can turn to. Someone they can talk to. It was so new to him, he couldn't even tell if it was to prove the original Gallagherβs existence was a joke or something else.
That was the case for him. At least, until he met someone⦠interesting.
Contradictory was the word he thinks that would fit you. You were like those he's seen before, but the difference is that you were a walking two-faced individual. You may not admit it yourself, but Gallagher knows that your words and actions lead on more than you wanted to.
The unfortunate thing, though, is that you'd rather not admit you're worth more than what life has given you. For a maskless, you were one of the most unique ones he's seenβblessed by the Abundance, you were simply bound to harbor the βgiftsβ THEY gave you. Alas, the fate THEY had you live through was one that the Hunt has damned from your birth.
But to Gallagher, he found it even more fascinating. Maybe he's biased, but he can tell you had potential, albeit it can be questionable at best. Maybe the Abundance chose you because THEY noticed it and wanted you as THEIR emanator, or maybe THEY simply found it funny to try.
Aeons are, simply put, abstract beings masquerading as Gods.
And emanators are simply THEIR puppets to play with.
Alas, that didn't matter. What mattered more is you, especially when, as time went on, he began to learn more about you and even what you're really like. From the worst quality you have to the one he found the most appealingβof course, not in a romantic sense, but more like a scientist to a test subject.
(He always found your way of communicating and even justifying other peopleβs thoughts fascinating. Though, that may be because of her behavior rubbing off on him, even if he refused to admit it.)
A jokester, a fool, an individual that is cursed by the Hunt and blessed by Abundance⦠He can go on and on about what you are. Maybe he can even compare you as Aha, but less of an actual masquerading, smiling fool.
What were they called? He couldnβt remember.
(He knows what theyβre called. Mourning Actors. But heβd rather delude himself into thinking they donβt exist, just like those Masked Fools.)
Anyway, he had things he needed to do. A fewβ¦ Errands, so to speak, and he knew that a dream thatβs bound to end like this, he had to finish them. Fast.
He could hear people panic as he weaved from crowd to crowd, seeing them disperse and grow smaller. Some were yelling, screaming as they were consumed, and the bartender could only continue pushing on, heading to the one building that is seen as βsalvationβ to these people.
Sure, some did try to stop him. Oh, he knew Siobhan and Misha didβbut others, like his wife (bless her, he didnβt regret marrying her, twisted as she is) and her companions? They let him. Actually, they didnβt bother. Brynn even told him that should he truly crave to torment the bird, heβd do it in a way that would hurt.
He had enough ammunition to end it. All he needed was his own smoking gun. What use are these bullets if he had nothing to shoot with?
Avoiding the panicking citizens and boarding up the elevator, Gallagher grabbed his lighter and cigarette stick. Lighting up one end, he placed it in his mouth, breathing in the smoke and soon blowing it out. The feeling of unbridled joy was bubbling in him as the jingling of the elevator echoed, letting him think of what he should say to the man behind everything.
Seeing him will be fun to witness, especially when Death is approaching. However, he thinks that it would be dreadful for him. After all, why wouldnβt he when he committed inhumane acts to torment the person he claimed he loved?
It was laughable to Gallagher⦠Even if he hates to admit it, (especially when, by the end of it, he will awaken from this dream.)
Before he could mull on the semantics, he could hear it.
The final jingle, and the automated voice echoing the floor heβs on.
12th floor.
And the doors open to let him out.
Hm, Gallagher could only hum in bemusement. About time, I suppose. Surely couldβve made them go faster, if they ever bothered to fix it.
Stepping out, he walked down the carpeted flooring, the only thing echoing being the sound of his footsteps and the (un)familiar sound of what seemed to be SoulGlad dripping.
Dream and reality are merging as one, and with it came unwanted changes. Things that werenβt meant to happen, happen, and individuals that went missing previously now showed their face wherever they went. And those that were alive in the dream were being erased, either by their own doing or by that being running amok.
He could even see them now, just resting by the tables, chatting in the formerly empty bar, and even a few crawling out of the βbubblesβ from SoulGlad, screaming for the damned that led them to their death.
And oh, the name theyβre screaming for was one he knew so well.
5 steps forward.
He could hear the discord from the walls, the sheer anger of those voices begging for what sounded like mercy amidst the swallows of Death.
3 steps forward.
He can smell the faint scent of copper and alcohol going bad, and even the awful stench of blood that started to seep from the ceiling.
1 step forward.
He can feel the thundering vibrations of its heart beating, reminiscent of what could have been lurking in the creation of this sweet phony.
Raising both hands, he pushed the doors open, the darkness greeting him as the scenery grew still. Right in front of him were shattered glasses, melting paintings, dripping and bloodied alcoholβ¦
β¦ And a cage, whose bars were rusted and ripped, containing the now coveted and escaped bird he was seeking answers from.
He saw THEIR eyes look immediately at him, and for a sheer moment, Gallagher felt THEIR ire as he simply waltzed in. It was almost like he didnβt care, and he sure didnβtβhe was only visiting just to seek some final messages for the deceased.
βWe meet again, demon,β he bellows, pulling the cigarette and rubbing the butt on the desk. He could hear THEIR murmurs as the emanator simply stood in place, his attire all but disheveled and in disarray.
It made him look like a mess. A man who lost the grandeur and modesty that an emanator of Harmony should have. What a joke.
βI should be saying that to you,β he heard the latter answer, his eyes now finally facing him as he turned. βI assume you caused this, did you not?β
βCaused what, little bird?β he asked, crossing his arms with a nonchalant look on his face. βIf anything, shouldnβt I say that to you? You caused all of this to go down out of your desire to keep things the same.β
He heard the latter laugh, raising his arms as the walls unfolded around them. Gallagher wasnβt perturbed when he saw light shine all around, though it didnβt come from the Heavens, but from THEIR peering eyes and THEIR aura emanating, trying to influence him.
How unfortunate. (He was too far gone to follow an Aeon like THEM.)
βOh, please, it's as though you are trying to paint yourself like youβre blameless, dog,β the masked fool spoke, his many eyes peering even from his own halo. βWe all know what we did hereβand we both know what your goal is. Are you here to seek answers on their behalf?β
Gallagher huffed. Of course heβd know, he rules this dream, and he molded it to his liking.
βIβm not the one acting like Iβm a saint, Sunday, but yes. I am here on their behalf.β
Sunday hummed, his smile ever so still and unchanging on his mask. He only nodded as he quipped, βI see. That makes things easier for me, as I also have things I want to ask of you.β
The ground rumbled as the two could faintly hear the cries of innocent people, seemingly drowning in the agony that was the nightmare getting to them. However, both of their attention are focused on each other, for the time to get their closure is now.
Stepping forward, Gallagher watched as Sunday raised his hand, taking off the mask that sounded like flesh being ripped from his own face. βAnswer me,β he began, his melodious voice sounding more strained as he glared at the brunette before him.
βWere you the one who took my sister?β
β¦
βHah, about time you ask me that,β Gallagher can only answer, his lips curling to a smile. βYes, I was the one who took your sister. Or, rather, she asked me to.β
If those eyes looking down could kill, he was sure that his mere existence would be disintegrated to ash. Even THEIR gaze made his skin crawl, almost like THEY were judging his very soul.
A shame, really, for theyβre in a dream and not in reality. THEY canβt kill him even if THEY tried.
Nevertheless, he had other matters to focus on. And one being the same man thatβs standing before him, looking at him like he was the devil walking on the waking world.
βShe asked you?β Sunday repeats, his voice strained out of disbelief. βWhy would she? I havenβt had a thought of harming her, and yet she sought you out sooner than she could bother speaking to her own flesh and blood.β
βDonβt ask me that. You and I know I canβt read minds, little dove,β he called out, huffing. βBut if I were her, I would also seek someone else to find a way. With how youβre acting right now, Iβd be dead sooner than if I spoke to someone with half a brain spared from THEM.β
Sundayβs eyes narrowed. Ah, insulting the emanator of the Aeon was not in his agenda, but it is now.
βBesides, sheβs still safe. I made sure of that myself,β he adds, though the nonchalance he held twisted to a coy grin. βUnlike that lover of yours that you pushed to suicide.β
βShut your mouth, wicked dog!β the dove shouted, the angry whispers and screams from THEIR voice echoing around. βI had done nothing wrong to them, and we both know it. The maskless are simply bound for deathβI canβt save them no matter how much I try!β
βOh? But you promised them that you would,β interjected the dog, his shadow morphing to something less than human. Something that every angel feared. βYou told them over and over that youβd protect them. Youβd save them from their misery. But thatβs where you went wrong, no?β
You promised a life worth living, Gallagher wanted to add, but such words are left unspokenβfor it is implied in his own message alone. But that life you made them live, the torment they went through just to get a sliver of your affection? Just how twisted can you get for a kid like them?
How much βloveβ do you want from them until youβre satisfied?
Raising his gun, Sunday aimed it at Gallagherβs direction. Those piercing wails became his strength, his fuel to enact his urges.
This man has taken everything from him. He took them. He took his sister. And now, this dream will be taken because of his ideological and moronic plan.
If Sunday was going down, heβd take Gallagher with him.
BANG.
REGULAR LISTENER/S: "None for now... How dull. Would you like to join?" CROSSPOSTED?: Yes. You may find it here!
#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ rain_candy's recommendations // fics ]#[ oh! yEAHHHHHHH GET EM. /j ]#[ this is a very good fic from a new account appearing on my dash though guys ]#[ the director's writing is really good they're amazing at getting emotions across their writing ngl. /pos ]#[ give it a read if you have the time!! i'd recommend it. ]
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Chimera Garden - Miscellaneous Content
content warning for: [ alludes to anthropophobia (fear of people) ]

Her fingers rested against the tip of the plain black phone resting in her hands, a hardcover black notebook balancing on her thigh, a glittery purple pen pinned gently between her lips.
A set of large twin dogs, one white and one black, rested on either side of the young woman. Near identical collars adorned the dog's necks, dual silver nametags shining through the soft light coming in through the windowsill.
She could see herself in the reflection of the phone screen, unkempt thick black hair flying into random directions, tired dusk blue eyes, and silver earrings shining in the sunlight. She seemed deathly pale in her own reflection.
...
How long had it been since she had left the house?
...
Her fingers ran gently against the phone screen, a frown forming on her weary face. She lifted up her fingers, gently patting the bags beneath her eyes. The tips of her fingers tugged on the underbags, a grimace forming on her face.
Her teeth bite down into the plastic nib of her glittery pen, her hair flaring up against her neck. Lifting up her fingers from her face, she ran the tips of her fingers along the edge of her hair. It wasn't tangled, thankfully, but it wasn't quite that soft... and her hair desperately needed a haircut.
She was quiet for a moment, lowering her hand hesitantly. She really hadn't seen herself in such a long time, she almost felt a little self-conscious about it. She didn't even know what day it was, much less what month, even what year it was.
It's not like they kept her hidden away from the world, perse. They paid for her apartment, paid for her food, all her clothes and necessities. Aside from the private training and private school lessons, she rarely got out of the house.
The idea of seeing other people, even those close to her... it made her chest feel tight, aching in an uncomfortable manner.
Whining softly, the black dog leaned in, burying its head against her arm. Its soft fur rubbed against her skin, causing her attention to divert slightly. Leaning over gently, she let out a small sigh. Reaching down, she ruffled the dog's fur-loving with a small smile.
"... it feels like you and Muffet are my only friends some days."
Her eyes shifted lightly, her ears twitching as her phone began to lightly buzz. The phone screen lit up, the words "Brother" were displayed at the top of the phone screen. Hesitantly, she leaned over, fumbling with the answer button.
"... huh. You actually answered the phone."
"... hi brother."
Her voice felt so hoarse, that it almost hurt to speak. Maybe this is what happens when you use it so rarely. Nothing to really talk to either way... aside from the dogs and her own cursed technique puppets.
Your cursed technique is something the jujutsu world has never seen before. The Phantom Parade carries an incredible amount of innate humane intelligence. However, that intelligence can end up being... more of a curse than a blessing.
... They weren't the most fun to talk to, though. Especially, "The Wicked Curse User" as everyone called him. (She didn't even remember where he came from. Angel hated that particular Phantom Parade, though.)
"I was wondering if you wanted to get some ramen. I'm in Tokyo right now."
Ramen... she paused a moment, trying to remember the last time she had eaten genuine ramen. (The last time she actually left the apartment? If she thought about it too hard, she'd just make herself sad.) She pondered a while, her brows furrowing a little the more she thought about it.
"I would... like that. I think."
"You think? Here, I'll text you the address, and you can decide after looking into it."
Frowning a bit, she huffed. The truth was... she didn't really know what she wanted anymore. She didn't want to be alone... but the prospect of people terrified her more than the fear of dying alone ever would.
A small message dinged on her phone as a message notification popped onto her home screen. Leaning over, she looked over the restaurant's menu and webpage. The words "booth seating" caught her attention more than anything on the menu.
"Well, how about it? Do you want to get some lunch together, just the two of us?"
"... yes please."
"Judging from the map, I'm... roughly fifteen to twenty minutes from your apartment. I'll see you soon, Himari."
...
click!
The call hung up with nothing short of a weak "okay".
Lowering her phone, her brows furrowed slightly. Going out to eat... they always said that even the slightest bit of progress was still process being made. Her eyes fell on the notebook, sitting quietly in her lap. Picking it up hesitantly, she looked around.
He was going to be there in fifteen or so minutes... she should take a quick shower and get dressed into something nicer than her pajamas.
She struggled to get to her feet, her legs numb from sitting on the floor for hours on end. Only through the effort of her two dogs did she manage to stand on her own two feet. Reaching down, she dusted her knees, before giving each of her good boys a gentle rub on the heads with a weak smile.
"Thank you."
...
The water felt nice against her skin, water dripping down from her hair. She felt a little bit like a wet cat. Maybe she was a sad, wet cat, deep down inside. (Would that make her brother and absentee father angry cats?)
Wrapping her hair up in a towel, she fumbled through her closet, looking for a pair of casual clothes. Something nice to wear, but comfortable and casual... and preferably, not her school uniform.
Her eyes fell on a plain colored cream shirt, blue pants, and a beige coat. The coat looked rather long, (she had a hunch the coat wasn't even hers to begin with.) but the cream shirt and blue pants looked nice together.
Hesitating, her eyes fell on her hands. Ugly and scarred... did she have any gloves she could wear? She was quiet for a moment, snatching some cream-colored gloves from the edge of her dresser. Hopefully, they don't get ruined... she doesn't have any other ones.
Tugging the towel off her head, she fixed her shirt before looking at herself in the mirror. Her brows furrowed as she looked herself up and down. Her hair was so messy... she should do something about it.
A knock on the door broke her out of her thoughts, her eyes shifting. Making her way to the door quietly, she fumbled with the door locks, before opening the door.
"Hi, Himari."
Yelping slightly as Muffet jumped past her, the white dog leaped into her brother's arms, licking his cheeks with a joyful bark. Holding onto the dog, he chuckled, ruffling the fur with a smile.
"Muffet... Muffet get off him..."
"It's fine. I think the divine dogs would do the same if they were here."
They'd probably knock her over. The Divine Dogs were bigger than her... probably heavier too. She sweated at the thought, laughing nervously. Clapping her hands together and whistling, she gently coaxed the white dog down.
"I need to go put some socks and some shoes on..."
"Take your time."
Fumbling slightly, she put on her shoes. Slip-on shoes made everything so easy. She was so glad she got Angel to buy her some that week he went out of town.
Her eyes fell on the plain black notebook, and her mind wandered to that assignment... rushing over, she gently picked up the notebook and pen, holding it close to her chest. Then, looking around, she snatched her keys off the desk.
"Uhm... I'm ready now."
βWhatβs with the notebook?β
Tapping her gloved hands against the cover silently, her eyes shifted to the side. In a near embarrassed motion, she pulled the notebook close to her chest.
For weeks of solitude, this notebook had been her saving grace. Despite her loneliness and her troubles, she felt comforted within its paper presence. Writing even the simplest things in it made her feel a little more alive.
Even if she barely felt alive to start with.
βItβs my homework notebook turned diaryβ¦β
Twirling her finger through her hair, she watched as her brother locked the apartment door, she glanced away. It was a little embarrassing to admit, butβ¦
βTeacher told me that the best way to strengthen my Phantom Parades was to establish bonds with themβ¦ the more I talk to them, the easier Iβll understand them, and the better I can control their powers.β
Laughing nervously as she followed him down the stairs, she shook her head. Sometimes she felt so pathetic, especially as she struggled with very simple, basic things, such as talking. Maybe their dad had the right idea in abandoning them.
βIs it hard to talk to them?β
βA little bitβ¦ I mean, theyβre just like people and it makes the assignment so hard and I- I just feel like crying.β
βIs talking to me hard?β
Pausing a moment, Himariβs eyes shifted nervously. Glancing up at her brother as they crossed the street, she bit her lip. She could feel other eyes on her (did she look that terrible?), staring at her.
Talking. She was never good with talking. She struggled to understand social cues, she felt like an outcast everywhere she went. A girl whoβs too afraid to talk to people, to the point she becomes a hermit and stays inside? What a mockery.
βDo you find it hard to talk to me? Like how weβre talking now?β
Pausing another moment, she looked up at him. She never had to think too hard on what to say when around him, now that she thought about itβ¦ he had a stern face and an even more stern personality butβ¦
βNo, actuallyβ¦ Iβm kind of comfortable around you.β
βAre you uncomfortable around the Phantom Parade?β
Her brows furrowed as she processed his question. Uncomfortable around her own cursed technique⦠she never quite thought about it like that. A mental roadblock?
βIβ¦ donβt know, actually.β
Her fingers twitched slightly as she pulled back her notebook slightly, her eyes focusing on the plain black cover for a moment, before looking back at her brother.
Her eyes glanced around, the sign of the ramen shop in the distance. It really wasnβt all that far, she thought. Close to her apartment, with private seating and cheap? If it was goodβ¦ maybe sheβd try to leave the apartment a little more.
βMaybe youβre focusing on it too hard. Their humane likeness. Youβre psyching yourself out before you can really get started. Table for two please.β
Watching carefully as they enter the shop, Himariβs eyes fell on the menu. If she just distracts herself with the menu (are they staring?), see what delicious ramen bowls they have (theyβre definitely staring at her.) and what sides she can try (sheβs such a freak.), maybe things will be okay. (I regret it. Iβm scared. I want to go home.)
Putting the menu down, she followed the waiter as they led her and her brother to a small booth in the corner of the restaurant. It was pretty far from the entrance, and not a lot of people aroundβ¦ Himari let out a breath she wasnβt aware she was holding.
βYouβre always psyching yourself outβ¦ arenβt you? Thinking too hard on it, scaring yourself beyond the limits.β
ββ¦ you were always very smart.β
Placing down the notebook hesitantly, she shook her head with a frown. Her voice shook a little bit, quivering with a slight whisper.
A small sigh escaped his lips as he hung his head. Then, sliding the menu across the table, a weak smile formed on his face.
ββ¦ letβs not think about schoolwork right now. We came here to eat some ramen, didnβt we?β
Sniffling, she furiously wiped her face with her sleeves, nodding hesitantly. She hated crying. It was hard to stop it once the flood gates opened, and it hardly ever felt good.
Things were always going to be difficult butβ¦
ββ¦ do they have a ramen with a soft boiled eggβ¦ and the corn and green onions in the brothβ¦ with the crunchy chicken on the sideβ¦β
ββ¦ just like how I used to make it?β
βYeahβ¦ that was always my favorite.β
There wasnβt anything a little ramen couldnβt fix, right?
#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ β // data recollection ]#oc writing#writing#[ miscellaneous works ]#[ himari fushiguro // the phantom parade ]#[ itβs kind of short but uhm. you know itβs something!! ]#[ itβs a bit all over the place but yknow we ball we ball. ]#[ save me sibling relationships save me ]
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Chapter Zero: The Emerald Gemstone Casino Grounds - The Murder Mystery Collection
This is the original, unaltered story for the Emerald Masquerade. The contents of this story is not for the faint of heart. Read the context warning list very carefully. You've been warned.
content warning for: [ themes of gambling, smoking, and drinking, themes of sexual abuse and assault, themes of violence and exploitation against minors, themes of loss and death, implications of self-harm and disordered eating habits, themes of murder/death, and more. ]
[ read moderator ame's note about the emerald masquerade here please ]
β¦ we live in a world filled with so much blood and regret, and itβs too late to turn back now.
Blood dripped from the edge of the bottle, his crimson blood mixing with the fine, crimson wine. His chest squeezed, his chest ached, and his chest burned. Mangled white hair, stained red with wine, a slumped body on the ground. Unmoving.
Why wasnβt he moving?
Why wasnβt he moving?
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ---
Chloe paused a moment, her fingers gently clasped around the small, golden entrance ticket. The Emerald Gemstone Casino, the worldβs largest gambling casino venue, home of the elite and the powerful, a symbol of wealth and power. The golden edges of the casino glowed like heaven in starlight, Chloe thought. What a beautiful White Night it was, the perfect night for the Emerald Casinoβs βEmerald Masquerade Ballβ.
Tucking a strand of her light brown hair behind her ear, she couldnβt help but marvel at it. The golden fountains, the glistening porcelain tiles, the lovely greeneryβ¦ everything about this casino screamed grace and elegance.
Gently, she tucked her hand behind her head, a soft hand laying against the golden ornaments in her hair. Pinned to a teal headband, completed with a brown bow and white pearl beads, it was something simple yet, one of a kind. Hand sewn by Chloe herself.
Her gloved hand gently smoothed down the creases in her vest, clearing her throat nervously as she nodded. Rehearsing a greeting in her head, drafting potential responses to potential questions, preparing for the ultimate social death⦠awkwardness. Oh, how she loathed social contact. She spoke too much, too quickly, always having too much to say but never enough substance to say it with. In short, she was a yapper and she knew it.
A young, attractive blonde man stood by the side of the reception desk, with the most mesmerizing set of purple eyes. A light blush on his cheeks, the most gorgeous set of eyelashes (Chloe wondered what mascara he wore.), and a smile that would melt the ice in even the coldest of hearts.
βWelcome to the Emerald Casino, dear guests. Iβll be your guide for tonightβs masquerade, may I see your tickets?β
The guest in front of Chloe, a young woman in a rather gorgeous pink sweater dress and the loveliest, caramel-colored hair, dug through a small, heart-shaped bag resting on her hip. Chloe watched as she pulled out a small, golden ticket from the bag with an infectious grace. White gloves passed off the ticket to the blonde-haired desk attendant, who responded with a light chuckle.Β
Chloe paused, her eyes falling on the beautiful womanβs long hair. A caramel blonde at the top, fading into a rich coffee brown at the bottom, pulled back into an utterly gorgeous French braid. (It was so long, she wondered how long it took the woman to grow it. Was it dyed? Extensions? She was so, so curious.) And the love-struck pink of the womanβs dress? Paired with the comforting material of a knitted sweater, combining fashion with comfort? As an aspiring fashion designer, she respected the creative force behind it. And the eggshell fluffy boa and those pink stockings? Chloe debated asking the lady about the designer, but she didnβt want to come off as a creep.
Shifting on her heels, she peeked over the womanβs shoulder. She was the next in lineβ¦ and glancing at the reflection in her phone, she was the last to arrive. She wasnβt lateβ¦ but everyone else invited seemed to have come rather early. (And she thought being fifteen minutes before the start of the party was excessively early.)
Nervous, Chloe took a step up, rubbing the golden ticket between her fingers. She was far, far from home. A little countryside girl in the grand city. She always thought the protagonists from the south, freaking out over the big city was always a little cheesy if she was being honest⦠but no. The big city was mortifying. She understood it now.
ββ¦ you must be Chloe Medena. Youβre the last person left on my waiting list.β Holding out his hand, the blonde man smiled warmly. A little too warmly, Chloe felt like a witch melting from its warmth.
βUhmβ¦ y-yeah! Thatβs me! Eheheβ¦β
God, youβre so awkward, Chloe. Who laughs like that? Someone whoβs lying, thatβs who! She wanted to hit herself for being so dumb, but that might only make her look more suspicious for no apparent reason.
ββ¦ is this your first time to our fine establishment?β
Raising a brow slightly, the man chuckled, covering his mouth with his white glove. Chloe was sure she looked positively baffled. A rich manβs laughingstock, surely. She couldnβt even manage to say anything, not with a single yapping bone in her body, only manage a small nod. Like an utter fool. Ough, Iβm so embarrassed. Theyβre gonna submit me onto Americaβs funniest home videos, Iβm sure of it!! nooOOOO-
βI see I seeβ¦β Gently, he took the tickets from her hands with a soft smile. βIβve been there too, once a really long time ago. The atmosphere is a step above, and you wonder if you really belong here.β
Placing the ticket down, the blonde man held out his hand towards Chloe, his soft smile feeling like sunlight after a cold night of rain. Something about it felt so soft and homelyβ¦ she reached out hesitantly, her gloved hand hovering just above the manβs gloved hand. Taking initiative, he reached up, gently clasping his fingers around hers. Then, lifting it to his lips, he planted a firm but light kiss against the back of her hand with a chuckle.
βBut you were invited here tonight for a reason, darling. So, I implore you to have a little more faith in yourself.β
She was going to pass out. Okay, no she wasnβt. She was just being dramatic. (I think?) Was her face getting flushed? She must have looked as embarrassed as she felt, surely. The casino certainly has a smooth talker on their handsβ¦ hahaβ¦
βThe ballroom is down the hallway there, through the third door on your left and a right turn around the hallway. Did you catch all that?β
Nodding eagerly, Chloe responded in silence. A little too eager to escape her embarrassment, she stumbled off towards the hallway. Covering her face with her hands, she groaned silently.
βGodβ¦ why do you have to be so awkward, Chloe? Stupid, stupid, stupidβ¦β
Shaking her head furiously, she attempted to pound the embarrassment out of her head. Of course, not literally. Her therapist always told her that hitting herself wouldnβt solve her problems, and that she didnβt need to βpunishβ herself to βmake upβ for her mistakes. These were only words, however. It was up to Chloe to practice it, and to bring meaning of her own. She balled her hands up in frustration, trembling as she resisted the urge to hit herself. A devilish temptation and an easy solution to her self-made problems, she thought. But it wouldnβt really fix anythingβ¦ would it?
Taking deep breaths, Chloeβs trembling fists slowly unclenched, and then, fully relaxed, laying flat against the deep brown fabric of her dress pants. A weak sigh escaped her lips, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She was such an embarrassment. She should just go home.
"Grandpa..."
A loving last gift from a man who loved her so dearly. She wasnβt his granddaughter by blood, but she was his granddaughter by choice. He loved her like she was always one of his own, and she loved him equally in turn. He always supported her dream of being a fashion designer, even when she didnβt believe it would ever be viable. She always felt like she was letting him down.
Even now.
ββ¦ are you lost?β
A deep voice snapped Chloe out of a memory ditch, a weak sniffle escaping her throat. She felt pathetic. Standing up straight, she lifted her hand, messily trying to wipe the tears from her eyes before they could have the chance to further embarrass her and fall.
βAre you crying?β
Nevermind then. Kill me now, she thought. Her vision blurred slightly, and her eyes ached ever so gently, however, she couldnβt help but hone in on the manβs striking features. His pale skin, adorned with a soft pink blush, that deep, curly purple hair, and those striking, cold red and yellow eyesβ¦ sniffling again, Chloe tried to speak, to respond to the odd man. However, her words choked in her throat, a gargled "noOo..." coming out instead. She couldnβt stop the tears from rolling, the hiccups from emerging, the sobs from startingβ¦ she felt so pathetic.
The man sighed, a cold "tsk" emerging from the depths of his throat. (It reminded her of her father when she announced for passion for fashion.) Then, reaching into the breast pocket of his dust green suit, he pulled out a small dust purple handkerchief, placing one hand on his knee as he bent down.
βThereβs no need to be crying over something so trivial. Everyone gets a little lost sometimes. Thereβs no embarrassment in it.β
Gently patting the tears dry with his handkerchief, the man shook his head solemnly. Sniffling, Chloeβs fingers gripped onto the edges of her vest, crinkling the once pristine fabric.
βOkayβ¦β
βThere. No more tears. Youβre going to be okay.β
She felt like a little kid again. She felt so useless. But⦠the guidance felt nice. A little bit. His hand gently brushed up against her brown bangs, pushing them to the side softly as he wiped the remainder of her tears. Then, reaching for his coat, he reached his hand inside, rummaging around. Why was he doing�
ββ¦ huh?β
Cocking his head to the side slightly, he grumbled as he rummaged around on the inside of the coat, before pulling out a small, travel-sized blush pallet from⦠nowhere. Did he have an inner coat pocket�
βHere. Your tears ruined your makeup. Youβd at least be able to do minor touch-ups with this.β
ββ¦ oh!β
Gasping, she carefully took the travel blush from the manβs hands, popping it open and glancing into the small mirror. Her eyes were slightly red and puffyβ¦ not too noticeable, she thought. Her mascara was okay (thank god for waterproof mascara, she believed), but her blushβ¦ tear streaks were not a style she wanted to rock.
Gently pulling out of the travel blush applicators, Chloeβs brows furrowed. Finding the closest match would be hardβ¦ but she could do it. Grandpaβs love and this strangerβs kindness couldnβt just be ignoredβ¦Β
βWait!β Looking up suddenly, Chloeβs eyes fell on the man in front of her, her brows furrowing in frustration at her own rudeness. She was so caught up in her own nonsense that she completely neglected the first rule of etiquette.
βIβm so sorry!! I never asked what your name was, kind sir!β
ββ¦ Hyde Williams. You can just call me Hyde though.β
βItβs a pleasure to meet you, Mister Hyde! My name is Chloe.β
Holding out a shaky hand, Chloe attempted a friendly smile. Keyword⦠attempted. If he rejected her⦠she might unravel and fall apart all over again. Nervously watching as the man shook his head, her hand trembled even more. Please please please please, please. She never craved the validation of a random stranger so badly before.
Reaching his hand out, he gave Chloe a quick but firm handshake. His hand felt rather warm in her gloved hand⦠she wondered if the entirety of him was just as warm.
βYour makeup, Chloe.β
ββ¦ oh yeah! Let me get on thatβ¦ hehehβ¦ hehβ¦β
You have got to stop laughing like that, Chloe.
β¦
Gently tapping her fingers against her cheek, she observed her face in the small mirror of the pocket palette. You could barely tell she had been crying. Closing the palette gently, Chloe looked up at the purple-haired man, who found himself a comfortable spot against the wall to lean on as the disheveled girl picked up the broken pieces of her dignity. Hyde Williams⦠it was a name unfamiliar to her, as was everything else in the casino.
He seemed kind enough, though. She wondered if it would be awkward to ask a man who she had met under⦠rather mortifying terms if he could be her friend. Despite his younger-looking appearance, he carried himself with the wiseness of a saint⦠or a monk.
"... thank you for your help, Mister Hyde."
"You can just call me Hyde."
Taking a step forward, she held out her hands with a smile, the small pocket palette resting in the center of her palms. Sighing gently, the man took the palette from her expectant hands. Cocking his head to the side as he opened his coat pocket, slipping the pocket palette inside his pocket. Then, holding out his hand to Chloe, he nodded. Hesitantly, she stepped closer, wrapping her arm in his own.Β
"I'll take you to the main ballroom. The masquerade ball is going to start soon, you shouldn't miss the opening to the dance."
...
A man stood on the large, grandiose stage, laced with gemstones and gold. Dressed in a soft red suit top and pristine pearl pants, the man chatted with the emerald-suited man from the entrance. All smiles. Chloe's neck craned slightly as she looked around. The room was huge, much bigger than she ever imagined.Β
Her hands fidgeted slightly as she looked around the room. There was a bar on one side, a tall pink-haired man and a shorter, blonde-haired girl chatted on the other side of the bar, the girl holding a bar glass with a confused expression. If Chloe had to garner a guess, bartender and... maybe a bartender in training. Her eyes shifted, to two giant casino tables with two distinctive people standing by their sides, thick black hair curling against their shoulders. Dealers... Chloe found it all so interesting.
Being such a regal and classy place... it felt surreal to her, something only possible in your dreams. Reaching out slightly, her fingers entwined along the satin green fabric sleeves of Hyde's suit. His red eyes fell on the young girl standing beside him. Sighing slightly, his eyes shifted to the side.
"Ahemβ¦β The man on the stage cleared his throat and like a king in the castle court, everyone turned their head to face the tall, elegant red-suited man. βThank you everyone for coming to the annual Emerald Gemstone Casino Masquerade night. Tonight is a special night for everyone here, is it not? Filled with regularsβ¦β
During the pause, the blonde attendant waved to the people in the crowd, and Chloe couldnβt help but look at the people waving back. A fair-skinned, pink-haired woman in a short, love-colored dressβ¦ something about Hydeβs side glance gave her an odd feelingβ¦ animosity, but she wasnβt sure why. A blonde-haired woman with longer, choppy hair in the back and a lilac blue suit also waved back with a smile, elbowing a young, brown-haired man sitting beside her. A dusted blue-haired male sitting at the bar glanced up, nodding slightly as he raised a hand in salute. His yellow eyes were almost captivating to Chloe, something so unique and soβ¦ decisive and striking.
βFilled with new guestsβ¦β
This time, the man in the red suit clapped his hands gently, waving to additional folks in the crowd. A blonde-haired woman wearing a boa, wearing a fancy red dress waved hesitantly back. It looked like satin, Chloe believed. The caramel woman with the heart-shaped pocket bag also waved with hesitance. A scruffy-looking man, sitting next to the woman in the pink dress that her new companion seemingly showed for earlier raised a glass in⦠was it salute? The countryside was never this uptight about etiquette⦠it made her shudder.
βNew staff working the masqueradeβ¦ and lively they are.β
As if on cue, the girl at the bar counter waved towards the men on stage, the pink haired man belting out a hardly laugh in response. The girl seemed nice⦠Chloe enjoyed her energy. She should visit the bar later on tonight. (Maybe she could buy Mister Hyde a drink or snack as a thank you gift for helping her earlier?)
βThis masquerade ball is made up of different, unique faces, all here tonight. Itβs very exciting, the chance for once-in-a-lifetime memories to be made. Saae, would you mind doing the honors?β Chuckling, the man in the red placed his hands on the golden microphone, scooping it into black-gloved hands. Then, handing it off to his attendant, the blonde-haired man smiled. Tucking a piece of his blonde hair behind his ear, the man cleared his throat briefly before bringing the microphone to his lips.
βWelcome to the Emerald Gemstone Casinoβs yearly event, the Emerald Masquerade, dear guests! This is your host for the evening, Frederick Kronos, and I am your co-host, Saae Avente.β
His voice sounded like what youβd imagine a thick but velvety honey would taste like. Rich and choked full of a sweet, distinctive flavor, the kind that coats your lips and leaves a deep impression on your mind for days to come. That thought wasβ¦ actually extremely weird, she thought as she reflected on it.Β
βSlots, drinks, games, and moreβ¦ this golden hour is your opportunity, and weβre here to bring your wildest fantasies into a reality. But, the two of us could not do it alone.β
Watching as the emerald attendant, named Saae Avente, stepped off of the stage, Chloe couldnβt help but fully note Saaeβs attire. The tall white sharp heels he strutted around the casino grounds in, with a degree of balance that made Chloe just the slightest bit jealous (for she was positive if she wore the same exact heels, she would fall and bruise much more than her already sullied pride.) The split paneling on his suit in general was something Chloe had never seen before, it intrigued her so dearly. (She wondered how it was achieved, such suits didnβt exist in the fashion world in its current era. Did he make them himself, tearing through the seams of different fabrics and stitching them into the current fashion he wore? She would have to ask him later. It was possibly the prettiest thing she had seen in a while.) But the thing that caught her eye the most was the peacock feather-themed trail, something hidden from behind the counter he had stood behind since she arrived. They floated behind him with an airy elegance, and Chloe almost wondered if they were really there.Β
βIf youβre looking to play games tonight-β Saae placed his free gloved hand lightly against the casino round tables, leaning over as he chuckled. β-then our two most trusted dealers will be here to make your wildest dreams come true. To my right is Lady Roxanne Tiye , our jack of diamonds and new dealer for the evening, and to my left is our betting round dealer for our masquerade events, Lee Wittlestein. Donβt be afraid to come pester them for a game, they wonβt bite.β
As if it were on cue, the two dealers lifted up their heads, waving into the small crowd of onlookers. One of them, Roxanne (as Saae had introduced her as), was a bored looking lady, Chloe noted. With thick, long black hair and a visible yellow eye, Roxanne lookedβ¦ she didnβt want to say displeased nor discontent, but she noticed that Roxanne didnβt seem as thrilled as some of the others. Chloeβs gaze shifted slightly to the figure standing to Saaeβs left side. Standing tall and composed, they exuded an aura of calmness, as if this were just an average friday evening for them. Similar to Roxanne, Leeβs hair was long and black in color, worn in a high ponytail, a red eye poking out of beneath messy bangs. Chloe couldnβt gain a solid read of Leeβs gender, even with the aid of the black vest and frilled white and red shirt they wore. She would have to ask them about their pronouns later on. (Their style reminded Chloe of a vampireβ¦ or something a little more specificβ¦ the words βbetting roundβ echoed in her head. Betting roundβ¦ bettingβ¦ nope. Whatever thought she had, she lost it. Oh well.)
βUhhβ¦ weβre happy to be your dealers tonight?β A white hand reached over, tilting the outstretched microphone to the left. βWeβre both delighted to make your acquaintances this evening, and hope to see you guys at one of our tables later in the evenings for a friendly game. Saae.β (... their voice only left Chloe more confused. Iβll just narrate with they/them in mind, I literally cannot tell.) Taking back the microphone with a snicker, he shifted slightly as he stood up tall. Then, making his way over to the bar, Saae hummed.
βAnd, if drinks are the thing you need-β Leaning over the bar counter briefly, he sat on the empty bar stool, wrapping an arm around the blue-haired man with striking yellow eyes. β-Well, some of our guests have already found their way to the bar, it seems~β Another velvety chuckle, and Chloe swore the blue-haired man waved his hand dismissively. (She also swore said man was smiling.)
βOur bartenders for the night are more than happy to mix you the perfect drinks. Isnβt that right, Elliott?β The tall pink-haired man, named Elliott, chuckled as he crossed his arms, puffing his chest with an enthusiastic nod. βYou know we make the best drinks this side of town, Saae.β Saae chuckled softly, and then leaning over the microphone, he smiled. βDo you have any drink suggestions for our new patrons, CJ?β
Turning around, the blonde-haired girl gasped slightly, then, walking over, she leaned close to the microphone with a smile. She hadnβt even spoken, but her energy was contagious. βWell, I know Elliott makes a mean strawberry mojito drink, and he always slices the fresh strawberries to per-fection! If you want something iconic but tasty, thatβs what I would go with!β Leaning into the mic, Elliott pitched in. βAnd, while youβre here, why not pick up one of CJβs iconic amaretto tiramisu cakes to eat with your drink? Soft, fluffy and a delicious snack to enjoy through the night.β βHeyβ¦ well, I can make a mean drink and a mean dessert myself, I suppose.β βOf course you can, your menu items are my favorites.β
They had such good energy together⦠the banter was cute and endearing, and the food sounded absolutely delightful.
βYouβve heard it firsthand, my dear guests. So, make sure to visit our two bartenders later on for a sweet drinkβ¦ or a sweet treat.β Spinning in the chair, he jumped onto his feet, landing with such precision that she couldnβt help but believe he practiced such a stunt. (If it were her, her ankles would have certainly been a goner.)
βSo, everyoneβ¦β He took a slow walk around the room, placing a hand on the pink-haired womanβs shoulder, earning a giggle from her. βWelcome to the Emerald Gemstone Casino.β His fingers lightly ran along the shoulders of the brown haired woman timidly sipping on a lime margarita, his fingers trailing along the underside of the blue haired manβs wing shaped earrings, a small fist bump with the young bartender (Was her name CJ?) breaking the oddly intimate(? Chloe wasnβt sure if that was the right word for that.) sensation. βSlots, drinks, gamesβ¦β
He ran his hands around the casino tables, lightly squeezing the shoulders of the two dealers sat nearby, a gentle hand on the shoulders of the blonde-haired woman and the brown-haired man already planning a game with the smug-looking scruffy man and a grey-haired man, fiddling with a pair of golden plated die.
βThis golden hour is your opportunity to live your lives a step above.β Β His fingers gently brushed against the locks of the hair of the woman with the heart-shaped purse as he passed by, his touch lingering lightly against the fuzz of the dusted pink fur of the blonde womanβs boa. Β βI invite you all to come and have a dance underneath our emerald-encrusted lights. Have a dance, play games, have drinks with companions, and ultimatelyβ¦β
He came to a stop in front of Chloe and Hyde, his hand held up, hovering lightly against Hydeβs lips. Chloe glanced up at Hyde briefly, a look present on his face that she couldnβt decipher, yet, extremely evident with discomfort. Her eyes shifted on Saae, an equally indecipherable look present on his face. Secrets locked behind a teasing smile. Β β... I hope these next few hours will be as blinding as your wildest dreams.β His eyes shifted slightly, his hand lowering as his eyes met Chloeβs. Leaning down slightly, he moved the microphone away from him, a solemn yetβ¦ joyful expression on his face.
βYour grandfather would be very proud of you, Chloe. I hope you enjoy the ball and find that inspiration youβre so desperately looking for.β
Nervously, her eyes fell on the clock.
It was 9:00 PM.
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β ---
βThat was the perfect introduction to start off the Emerald Masquerade event yet, Saae.β
Placing a hand on Saaeβs back gently, Frederick smiled softly. Laughing heartily, Saae gently tapped his wine bottle against the wine bottle Frederick held. Relaxing in the back, as they always do after a masquerade introduction.
βI think having CJ and Roxanne on the team this year did wonders for the public morale to be honest. CJ and Elliott bring a contagious yet light and fun atmosphere, while Roxanne gives Lee the breaks and assistance they need. Even if Rox isnβt the best on the morale, she plays with the love of the gameβ¦ most of the time.β
Lifting the wine bottle, Saae took a swing of the wine inside, a soft crimson liquid dripping off his lips. Chuckling, Frederick held his wine glass in his hands lightly, white curled hair shifting in and out of his vision.
βWeβve also managed to sell more of thoseβ¦ special packages this masquerade. Weβve made an additional 1500 dollars this year.β
Saaeβs face dropped, his eyes frozen on the wine bottle. He could see the back of Frederickβs curly, combed-back white hair in the reflection on the glass, an eerie apathy in his demeanor. He was tired of special packages.
βWβ¦ What?β
His words came out breathless, a slight tremble seemingly left unnoticed by the man in the room. His hands trembled slightly as he lowered the bottle, sweat dripping down his face. He felt so clammy.
β... Two of our new guests bought your package deals, the 500-dollar ones, as well as our regular deal buyer. Did Elliott not tell you?β
βNo. No, he didnβt fucking tell me. Maybe he did. I wasnβt fucking listening because you know I hate-β Putting up a hand, he cut Saae off. How dare you. βI know. Headquarters denied your request, youβre such a major source of income for the casino it would be catastrophic if we lost it. Iβm sorry my hands were tied here.β
His chest ached slightly, a tightness in his chest preventing air from entering his lungs. His hand ached from how tightly he held onto the wine bottle, like it was the only lifeline tethering him to a cold dull reality.Β
βYouβre sorry? Youβre SORRY? Frederick, you do realize they touched me even-β βEven when you asked them to stop, I know. And they didnβt stop. They took advantage of you. I know. Youβve told me these stories time and time again, Saae.β
Placing his glass down, Frederick paused nervously. Clasping his hands together, he moved towards Saae slowly. His open hand twitched, his fingers pulling at his skin. A small groan escaped his lips, annoyance dripping from his lips like blood in a river.
βDo you even care? I mean, aughβ¦ this isnβt even about me at this point, Frederick. I mean, what if it was someone else-β Pinching his fingers against the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezing shut shakily. His hands trembled slightly, his chest ached, the shadows of hands reaching out materializing in his mind. βFrederick, please. Just hear me out for once-β Β βI donβt have the power to make it stop, Saae. You know that. I can try to put an end to that system, but in the end, Iβm just as replaceable as everyone else in this casino-β
His vision blurred, the red and white of Frederick mixing, blurring into nothingness. He felt like a little boy all over again. There was a man, born from the darkest fragments of his frazzled mind, a smug smile on his face. Closing on him like a predator on prey. He felt a slight pressure on his chest, the feeling of ghost-like fingerprints against his chest.
βItβs just so hopeless, day after day after day, and you just donβt fucking CARE-β "Saae."
A slight squeezing, a pressure on his wrists. Saae remembered that night well, it was something that always replayed it on the worst of nights. He remembered crying, pleading with the odd man to stop. His neck ached, the ghostly imprint of teeth burning up against his collar. His fingers scratched absentmindedly against the flaring skin.
βDo you know what itβs like to feel like a piece of meat on a hook, Frederick? To be something less than human.β "Saae... please."
The bottle shifted in his hand. The alcohol in his system, (although not much)Β perhaps it had clouded his judgment in an emotional high. His emotions burned a hole in his chest, a blinding aching in his brain.Β
βHe took advantage of you, I get it-β βNO YOU DONβT! You donβt understand! Youβll never understand it! Fuck, I donβt want you to understand it!β
β¦ His body felt so far away, like something foreign. Watching a movie from an outside perspective, almost. He didnβt remember moving so much. He didnβt remember flipping the bottle in his hand, still filled to the brim with rich crimson wine, so much so it was rather heavy in his hand. His chest ached, his breaths came out as weak wheezes. His eyes blurred, refusing to focus on anything. He blinked slowly. The bottle felt so light now, he wasnβt sure why.
β... I justβ¦β
Black eyes shifted, falling on the blurred bottle. His breath quickened, yet his chest still felt so tight. Lifting it slightly, there was only broken, jagged glass connected to the handle of the bottle. The rest of the glass was missing. The fine crimson wine was gone.Β
β... I just wanted you to listen to me so it wouldnβt happen again...β
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he raised a clammy hand in response, wiping the tears from his eyes. A few tears slowly dipped down his face, staining the makeup he wore. He stared at the ground, a blur of colors shaking, and slowly shaping into a scene he only recalled seeing in his nightmares.
Blood dripped from the edge of the bottle, his crimson blood mixing with the fine, crimson wine. His chest squeezed, his chest ached, and his chest burned. Mangled white hair, stained red with wine, a slumped body on the ground. Unmoving.
... I donβt get it.
Frederick wasnβt moving. He wasnβt breathing. He lay still in a puddle of blood and wine. Saae bent down, trembling hands reaching out.
I always dreamed of harming my abusers.Β
His hands felt oddly cold. He was always known for being really warm and friendly. Warm and caring, that was who Frederick was. He wasnβt perfect though.Β
I wanted to hurt them the same way they hurt me.Β
Saaeβs fingers brushed through his hair, a mess of wine-stained white curls. His eyes watered slightly. Pulseβ¦ pulseβ¦ where was he supposed to check for that againβ¦? His mind, racing with thoughts moments ago, was left eerily blank.
I thought it would help me cope.Β
His fingers felt so shaky and clammy. He didnβt think he could get a recent reading of Frederickβs pulse, even if he could remember where to check for it at. It wasnβt his fault headquarters was such a demanding piece of shit.
I thought it would help me feel better.
They didnβt care about him. They only cared about profit. As long as people paid good money to touch him, kiss him, get him drunk, to βloveβ him, to have their wayβ¦ it didnβt matter. In their eyes, he was nothing more than numbers. A toy to line their pockets.
But it doesnβt.Β
And somehow, it was his fault when the words βnoβ would go unnoticed, when it was convenient. Frederick didnβt ignore his cries for helpβ¦ he just couldnβt make a choice when it really mattered to Saae. And now heβll never make another choice, ever again. His eyes fell on the clock.
I just feel regret.
It was 11:20 PM.
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Sitting down at an empty section of the bar, Chloe placed her hands on her lap lightly. Something about Hydeβs expressionβ¦ bothered her. Even after the masquerade events started up and most of the awkwardness died down, she couldnβt help but wonderβ¦
βAre you alright?β
βHuh?β
Chloe fiddled with her hands nervously, looking up at Hyde. Her brows furrowed in frustration. Her eyes focused on the uneaten tiramisu and the strawberry mojito drink lying on the table. Well, it wasnβt uneaten per seβ¦ she had seen him take a bite. And then, he excused himself from the bar for a while, coming back a little paler.
βAre you okay? You seem sad.β
β...β
Shifting in his seat, he leaned on his hands, a complex expression on his face.
βYou remind me of my kids is all.β
βYou have kids? Iβm sorry, how old are you-β Gasping slightly, Chloe slammed her hands over her mouth. That was so rude, Chloe! β- I am SO sorry I didnβt mean it like that you just look so young and-β
Sighing softly, Hyde picked up the fork weakly. Staring blankly at the tiramisu, his brows furrowed in frustration.
βIβm 37 years old. I turn 38 in a week, though. My youngest, Emily, is 10 years old, she overthinks everything just like you do.β
Lowering her hands slightly, her eyes sparkling slightly. A kid, huh� Reaching out, he gently pushed her messy brown bangs to the side. A weak smile on his face. She felt a little bad for asking.
βBut, sheβs a really sweet kid. Always brought me food when she thought I needed to eat-β He pointed at the mostly uneaten tiramisu she had ordered for him. βOr asking me if Iβm okay.β β¦ was she really that similar to a 10-year-old-
βOh.β
Rubbing her head in embarrassment, Chloe pouted. However, the pouting only seemed to make Hyde laugh more. A hearty yet genuine smileβ¦ Chloe would let it slide. (She says, as if she had any plans of βtaking care of it.β to begin with.) Leaning against her hands, her feet swung back and forth on her stool.
βThank you for the worry, but, really. Iβm fine. By the way, how old are you? Since you asked me earlier.β
βOh! Iβm 23 years old!β Placing a finger on her chin, she nodded slowly. βYou said your birthday was next week. What day is it?β Curious, she tilted her head, clasping her hands together with stars in her eyes.
β... itβs June 23rd.β
Shifting on his arms, he poked aimlessly at the tiramisu with a frown. Lifting his fork, he mumbled to himself, words left unheard. Then, pushing the edge of the container with the edge of his fork towards Chloe, Hyde shook his head.
βIβmβ¦ not hungry. You can have it.β
β¦ Chloe felt herself sigh. She wasnβt sure why. Hesitantly, she took the tiramisu in her hands. What did they say was in it againβ¦? She forgot. Not that she wasnβt listening, of course. In fact, Chloe felt she was listeningβ¦ a little too much.
βPfftβ¦ look at him, pussy footing around good food. It wouldnβt kill him to put on a few more pounds.β βI donβt know, Marianne. I saw him in the bathroom earlier, gross sounds, Iβm telling you, the poor smuck looked paler than a starving girl on a Sunday morning.β βOh, I bet he couldnβt even eat the shitty wine and crackers they give out on Sunday mornings.β βOh, heβs probably too sensitive to handle it. I bet a burger would send his ass into the 5th dimension.β
Chloe felt a little sick. Her eyes shifted slightly, glancing over at Hyde. He had his hands clasped over his mouth, looking paler than ever. He looked like he was trying not to cry. Chloe felt more sick.
βCan your arteries handle the grease, Dynasty? With all the junk you spew from your hole, Iβm surprised you havenβt choked on the sheer audacity yet.β
... huh?
βI bet a burger would send you into cardiac arrest, and your mommy canβt pay your way out of that one. Mind your business, jackass.β
Looking up fully, Chloe turned. A tall woman walked past the gossiping duo without much more than a ounce of attention. In fact, the woman barely looked back. Her heels clicked against the floor as she made her way towards the bar.Β
Yelping slightly as the woman suddenly reached out, Chloe swayed slightly. Running her hand around Chloeβs shoulder, she came to a stop suddenly, lilac eyes boring into her soul. Glupping nervously, she tugged at her collar nervously. Did she fuck up by eavesdropping? Oh, she might have fucked up. Mama also told her that it was bad etiquette to eavesdrop on things that didnβt concern you but-
βYour foul mouth is going to get you into trouble one of these days, Hermione.β
βWords have consequences. You know that lesson the best. Whoβs the kid?β
Tapping Chloe on the nose lightly, Chloe squeaked. Ignoring the strange looks from the woman and Hyde, she reached from her sparkling water to divert from the embarrassment she felt. Talk about drowning in a cringe-filled sea, I mean, really-? Squeaking? What are you! A squirrel??? Damnit Chloe!
β... sheβs not a kid-?β βYouβre almost 40 years old, Hyde.β βYouβre almost 40 years old, Hyde.β
β¦ well, she wasnβt a kid. She was 23 years old! Butβ¦ compared to Hyde (who was turning 38 in a week), she was still rather youngβ¦ and 15 years did make a large difference. (At least, all those scientific studies in brain and lifetime development lead her to believe so. However, she was no scientist.) They certainly were in different life chapters. But, she was no kid! β¦ I think.
βMy name is Chloe! Chloe Medena!βΒ
Clapping her hands together in joy didnβt quite help her argument, did it? In fact, Hyde almost seemed appalled by the motion. βReally?β seemed to be written all over his face. However, for her efforts, the odd woman returned the gesture withβ¦ a headpat. Wowβ¦ she really DID feel like a kid all over again. (But, in a good way this time.)
βMy name is Hermione Wesker. You can just call me Hermione, though.β
Hermione, despite her sharp tongue and intimidating aura, wasnβt all too bad, Chloe decided. Mama always said never to judge a book by its cover, no matter if it was worn down or encrusted in jewelry and glamour. It was the inside that always mattered. Mama was right about that, but, it was hard not to judge a book by its cover when she felt the book would try to bite her head off if she looked at it wrong.
βSo, you guys met in a widower support groupβ¦?β
This book just so happened to have Chloe captivated.
βIt brings back memories. Some good, some badβ¦ most of them are painful, though. I lost my husband of six years when I met Hyde, butβ¦β
Hydeβs hands laid on the table softly, a gentle expression on his face. His eyes stared down at the wooden grooves on the table, a soft frown on his face. Just like that, he looked like he was going to cry all over again. Chloe couldnβt help but scoot closer, reaching her own hand out. Gently, placing it on top of his own, she leaned her head against his shoulder.
β... I lost my wife to a battle with cancer three years ago. We were together for fifteen years and married for twelve years.β βOhβ¦ Iβm so sorry Hydeβ¦β
Lowering his head more, he laughed weakly. Gently lowering his head against the wood of the table, a weak sob escaping his throat. The pain of lossβ¦ never fully goes away, does it? The idea scared Chloe a little. She wondered if sheβd ever fully heal from Grandpaβs passing, or if sheβd be sad over it forever. She wanted to hug him. (She wondered if it would be overstepping.)
She glanced over at the clock. It was 12:10 AM. She didnβt even realize how time flew by. Her eyes shifted again, falling on her drink. She bit her lip. What anβ¦ awkward moment to have to use the bathroom. She looked back at Hermione, eyes wide in panic as she swung her legs anxiously.
β... drank too much at the bar, kid?β
She nodded eagerly, a slight pout on her face. Iβm sorry! I didnβt see my night going like this, Iβm not trying to escape this situation, I sWEAR. Please believe me :(
There was a chuckle as Hermione stood up, placing one hand on Hydeβs shoulder as she leaned over. Getting a glimpse at his face as she lifted it up just enough to free her handsβ¦ it made Chloe sad. Sorrow weighed heavy on his features, and even half asleep, pain stained his features, the loss of life etched on his weary body like a curse.
βThank youβ¦β Β She felt like she had to mouth it, but she didnβt want her thanks to go unheard.
Getting up, Chloe clamped her hands together nervously. Suddenly, one shining, glaring issue presented itselfβ¦ where WAS the bathroom? She didnβt remember if the attendant (Saae? Sae? Say????) mentioned itβ¦ her eyes darted from side to side as she walked up the bar nervously. The young bartender (CJ) skipped over, holding a pair of metal cups in her hands with a smile.
βHi Chloe! What can I get you this time?β
βUhm, actuallyβ¦ I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the restroom?β
Why did she sound like a young Victorian girl? Youβre in the twenty-first century, Chloe, not the seventeen hundreds. Whatβs next? Asking βMister Potterβ for just a singular crumb to eat? You donβt even know a βMister Potterβ, Chloe!
βOf course, itβs-! Wait, actually, I donβt know where the closest bathroom is.β
β... oh!β
Turning to her right, CJ reached up, tapping Elliott on the shoulder with a wide-eyed stare.
βEl. Where are the bathrooms at?β
βHuh? Theyβre upstairs, why? Did you need to take a break and go?β
Pointing at Chloe (who squeaked in embarrassment. again.), CJ laughed nervously.
βWell, Chloe has to go, but now that you said somethingβ¦ I kind of do too.β
Pausing a moment, Elliott nodded. Holding up a finger, he turned and walked down the bar, moving over to where Saae had been sitting. She watched as he leaned over, whispering to him. There was a nod, as then, Elliott made a motion to CJ, who walked over to the edge of the bar. Opening the gate, Saae walked into the bar, while the two bartenders walked out. Oh, swapping places.
βCome on Chloe! Iβll lead the way.β
Following Elliott and CJ up the stairs, Chloe glanced over at the clock.Β
It was 12:15 AM.
Walking up the stairs, she fiddled with her hands, glancing around. Stopping at the top, she glanced over at the event coordinator silently. He had been standing there, leaning against the golden railing, his phone up against his ear. She didnβt remember when he came back to the party, but he had been up here the entire timeβ¦ she found it odd. Everyone else was enjoying the masquerade, even the co-host, Saae. Yetβ¦
He hadnβt moved an inch.
Glancing at the man as she walked, she could feel her mind wandering again. As she followed Elliott and CJ down the hallway, she wondered, what was he-
Click!
With a slight stumble, Chloe tripped overβ¦ something, bumping into CJ. Yelping, CJ stumbled in turn, both of the girls ending up dizzy on the floor. Groaning, Chloe squinted her eyes. She had tripped overβ¦ something. But, she couldnβt see what that something was.
BANG!
The sound of a loud gunshot tore through the air suddenly, a sound equally jarring and menacing against Chloeβs ears. Her hands trembled as they shot up to cover her ears, her eyes squeezing shut in panic. There was a muffled thud! that followed, and shortly afterβ¦ screaming. Lot of it.
βHuh-?!β
Watching- well, not really watching, her eyes were still closed shut from terror- listening to CJ stand up, Chloe yelped as she felt CJβs hands on her shoulders (well, she assumed it was CJ?), pulling her up off of the ground, and into the bathroom behind them. Her heart raced, and she swore she could hear her heartbeat in her fingertips. Cracking her eyes open hesitantly, the bright lighting of the bathroom flooded her vision, stinging her eyes slightly. The sudden shift brought tears to her eyes.
β... it was only one shot?β
Chloe wasnβt positive in herself, after all, so much of her energy was spent in an attempt to make sure she didnβt shatter underneath the fear she was feeling. However, looking back, CJ nodded in agreement. One shot. It sounded like it came from the second floor, the floor theyβre on right nowβ¦ yet Chloe never hear anyone running.
How odd.
Hestiantly, Chloe popped her head, peering into the hallway. Nothing unusualβ¦ I think. Gunshots aside, Chloe really couldnβt wait any longer.
β¦
Linked arm in arm with CJ, a grizzly sight greeted the girlsβ eyes. At the bottom of the ballroom floor underneath where the railing he had been standing on since the ball started was the mangled corpse of Frederick Kronos. Grimacing, she covered her mouth. She had just left the bathroomβ¦ yet she felt like she was going to be sick.
βOh goodness me!β
Running over to Chloe, Hermione grabbed the girl by the shoulders, frantically checking her over before letting out a worried sigh. After letting go of her, she crossed her arms with a shake of her head.
βWay to go and leave at the worst timeβ¦ Are you two okay?β
Reaching out, her fingers briefly ran over CJ as well, a glint of concern in her eyes. CJ nodded hesitantly, howeverβ¦ Chloeβs eyes began to wander. The entire masquerade party was in shambles.
Her eyes shifted to the body of Frederick. It wasnβt that long ago whenβ¦ they all saw him alive. She felt like she was going to be sick.Β
Bending down next to the corpse, a ponytail of long black hair obscured most of her view of the body. Never had Chloe been so thankful for a bad angle before. Red gloves moved around the body, pulling the coat open to reveal a single gunshot wound, directly positioned in his heart. Chloe couldnβt see much else, but she imagined his blood blossomed in the white silk fabric, like a stain. A disease.
She looked at the gaming tables. Roxanne seemed to try and calm the players of the game. Judging from the blonde womanβs reaction, it wasnβt working. The man with the angel wing earrings was also over there. He looked like he was talking to the man with the brown hair.
Her eyes shifted to the bar, which was all but emptyβ¦ of course, to no surprise, she thought. The bartenders werenβt there, Hermione was over here, those bad mouthing bar guests were observing the body with Lee. The only two people that werenβt elsewhere wasβ¦
He sat calmly by Hydeβs side, Chloe thought. A hand on his back, hunched over, whispering to him. Perhaps calming him. Although, she noticed he didnβt seem too conscious at the moment. His mannerismsβ¦ he looked confused.
Her eyes trailed back to the body. His lifeless eyes looked at Chloe, a haunting last image. His lips were pale, they were almost blue in color. Like the life was sucked out of him. She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging onto Hermione like her own life depended on it. Maybe it did.
βIs bossβ¦β
CJβs voice cracked, and Chloe could hear the terror in her voice. An eerie silence followed, she could hear the sounds of CJ trying to hold back tears.Β
βCome onβ¦ you two should sit downβ¦ a lot has happenedβ¦β
Hermione held onto the two girls, slowly moving them away from the body. Chloe didnβt know where they were going. She was too scared to open her eyes. She wasnted to say something.
But all she chould choke out were weak cries of terror.
β¦
βAre you ladies okay?β
Chloe sniffled as she sat down at the bar, trying furiously to wipe away her tears. It only proved to be futile in the end. She wished she were stronger in times of tragedy.
CJ looked roughly just as deshevled as Chloe herself, and she felt a tad bit guilty for being glad she wasnβt the only hot mess there. It was okay to be a hot mess thoughβ¦ there was a literal corpse in the room with them. They remembered Frederick, smiling so brightly just hours prior.
All that was left of him was a cold, clammy corpse.
βItβs okayβ¦ My name is Nuxi. Iβm a retired police officer, Iβll just be asking you two a few questions about what happened while you were gone, okay?β
She nodded in silence. She wasnβt sure why she didnβt want to speak. She wasnβt guilty, she didnβt kill him. But, everyone always said that silence speaks volumes. Maybe she was worried if she spoke, sheβd only start sobbing all over again. CJ seemed to feel the same.
The angel earringβd man pulled up an empty bar stool, sitting across from the two girls. Opening up his coat pocket, he retrieved a small pen and notepad. Then, looking at Chloe, he sighed.
βIf you donβt think you can talk, donβt try and force yourself to. You both can simply nod yes or no to my questions, okay?β
They nodded silently. Sniffles occasionally broke the silence.
βAlrightβ¦ around 12:15 AM, you two alongside bartender Elliott went upstairs, correct?β
Chloe nodded slowly, rubbing her eyes tiredly.Β
βWe were going to the bathroomβ¦ but when I- I got up there, I tripped over something and-β She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, her hands trembling. βI fell. I fell and I knocked over CJ. I was looking for whatever it was I tripped over and-β βThatβs when we heard it. The gunshot.β
Nuxi was quiet, yet, he seemed attentive, noting down each part of their story. Even as they struggled to get the words out. Even as terror gripped their voices.Β
βSo we- we hid out in the girls' bathroomβ¦ and eventually, we came down and thatβs when we-β A sob cut CJ off, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed weakly. She sobbed, and she sobbedβ¦ and she sobbed. That was when they came across that grizzly sight. That corpse.
Why did this happen?
Nodding slowly, he placed his hand on his chin slowly, his brows furrowed in contemplation. Chloe could tell, something about the story bothered him. She wasnβt sure what. She was too scared to ask.
βDid either of you happen to catch what time it was when you heard the gunshot go off?β
Pausing slowly, Chloe scratched her chin. The timeβ¦? She wasnβt sure, she didnβt remember seeing a clock while upstairs. Or, well, she wasnβt looking for one, at least. She shook her head no. CJ answered the same. Nodding slowly, Nuxi wroteβ¦ something down in his notebook.
βYou said you tripped over something, Chloe?β
βUhmβ¦ yeah. But, I couldnβt see what it was. And, then the gunshot went off and, I got so scared I couldnβt move. CJ dragged me into the bathroom, assuming the person with the gun was upstairs with us. But, we never heard anyone run from upstairs, since we were really close to the stairs.β
Nodding again, Nuxi mumbled something to himself quietly, his brows furrowed again. Then, closing his notebook, he looked up with a soft expression.Β
βThank you, you two. I have to go question Elliottβ¦ have either of you seen him?β
Shaking her head no, Chloe frowned. So caught up, she didnβt see where he went. By the time she had come back to reality, she only saw CJ. She had no idea where Elliott had gone to.Β
CJ paused, rubbing her head in confusion. Her brows furrowed, her tongue sticking out as if she were searching the depths of her memories for something.
βIf I had to guess, El went toβ¦ probably the employee break room thatβs nearby the bathrooms. He kept yawning soβ¦ maybe he went to get a cup of coffee while we were in the bathroom?β
The break room⦠interesting. Chloe noted it in her head. Coffee⦠coffee sounded nice right about now. She was never too big on alcohol anyway.
βRight. Thank you, CJ.β
Nodding slowly, Nuxi placed a hand on his chin. Then, turning away Chloe and CJ, he leaned over. His voice lowered to something, barely above a whisper. Hunching over, he mumbled something she couldnβt catch. Chloe tilted her head slightly.Β
Shifting in her chair, her brows furrowed. Her eyes fell on the corpse in the middle of the room. Her eyes watered slightly, she couldnβt help it. Her hands shook slightly as she buried her head in her hands. She was so scared, she couldnβt help it.Β
Her brows furrowed. She remembered his words when the ball started, they echoed in her head. They were so nice and comforting in the moment, but nowβ¦ theyβre nothing but ironic last words. (Or well, not maybe his last words butβ¦ the last words Chloe ever heard.)
βThank you everyone for coming to the annual Emerald Gemstone Casino Masquerade night. Tonight is a special night for everyone here, is it not? Filled with regular, new guests, and new staff working the masquerade (and lively they are.) This masquerade ball is made up of different, unique faces, all here tonight. Itβs very exciting, the chance for once-in-a-lifetime memories to be made.β
Memoriesβ¦ memories certainly were made, Chloe thought. However, memories that werenβtβ¦ all too pleasant. Not all memories were good, not all memories were pleasant. Closing her eyes softly, she sighed. Covering her face, she couldnβt help but want to cry. She felt so overwhelmed. She wondered if it was over, or if this was just the beginning of a long, long line of tragedy.
...
Welcome to the Emerald Gemstone Casino Masquerade. Slots, drinks and games, this golden hour is your opportunity.Β
Come and dance under emerald skies, let these last hours of your life be as blinding as your wildest dreams.
... she wanted to go home.
[ CHAPTER ZERO COMPLETE. CHAPTER ONE COMING SOON? ] [ 1/?? DEATH FILES UNLOCKED ]
#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ β // data recollection ]#[ the murder mystery collection ]#writing#oc writing#[ sorry that its so long but uhm. i explode. ]#[ please check out the note linked it's important (shaky thumbs up) ]#[ kind of mortified to post this ngl but yknow we uh. we came this far-? ]
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βββ β’β§β’ ββ Streaming Services ββ β’β§β’ βββ
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SYSTEM NOTIFICATION // NEW ARCHIVE UNLOCKED. PROCEED?
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[ The original poster asks that you repost, do not reblog. ]
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NAME: "rain_candy" or Ame. However, people also call me by my online alias, Calamity/Cal.
PRONOUNS: She/He/They, uses all three interchangeably.
PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: tumblr asks <3 however, if we're good friends/mutuals and we're comfortable around one another, you can also find me on discord.
NAME OF MUSES: My main muses of the moment are my original characters such as Kasumi Kamishiro and Kadence Irving, and my media muses such as Emu Otori and Sparkle. There is a full list of media muses that you can check out here.
NAME OF SERIES: In addition to my main roleplay muses, I also have muses originating from my different writing series, such as The Emerald Masquerade series and the Needy Streamer Overload series. For most of those series, there is a list of the muses which you can check out here. As for the Emerald Masquerade, you can find everything relating to it here, including both design-wise and lore-wise. A rewritten version will be coming onto this blog, however.
BEST EXPERIENCE: To me, meeting new people (and anons) and discovering the particular dynamics between their character and mine. I absolutely love talking character dynamics and character development a ton! I also enjoy helping workshop muses and figure out their defining traits and characteristics.
...
ROLEPLAY PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS:
- Lack of Communication. As someone with autism, it's important that we have a good communication basis! Especially if you have a concept or a plan you'd like to experiment with. Do you need something? Please, come and talk with me!
- Romanticizing/Glorifying Dark Themes. As someone who writes for certain dark themes and draws from their own real-life experiences, there's nothing wrong with having writings and discussions around these topics (One of the most well-loved pieces from me explores various dark topics.) but I refuse to glorify and romanticize them. Especially when it comes to topics like abuse, harassment, or assault. And if I catch you romanticizing these themes, that is a hard block. And please don't try to justify or defend it, that's disgusting.
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MUSE PREFERENCES: I'm down for any and every kind of dynamic... but my favorite muse preferences are the hot and cold muses who are opposing in every way, they're so different from one another. I'm also a big fan of different kinds of romantic and platonic relationships! They can be the most normal couple or the very essence of toxic yaoi/yuri, but as long as there's chemistry and chances for their relationship to develop and grow... I'm in! Love a good enemies-to-lovers dynamic...
PLOT VS MEMES: BOTHHHHH. Good god, I love shitposts and memes a ton. I love being able to have a good laugh, and some of the best shitposts come from plot-based interactions. It makes for a good mix of serious writing and lighthearted fun... and sometimes meme-ing on people somehow becomes canon lore. As long as we're having fun, who cares, right?
LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: Oh... hmm. Honestly? I don't mind either. I'm someone who loves a good amount of detail and interest in my stories and my roleplays, but I also understand that fatigue and burnout hit really easily so... anything works! I typically have a more medium length to my responses but... whatever works for you works for me!
BEST TIME TO WRITE: fuck if I know man /j But uh, I think the best time to write, especially a story, is when inspiration hits! Even if it's in small bursts, something is better than nothing, right?
ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): ... personally, I don't think so??? My friends might have something different to say though... [ intensive thinking ]
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rain_candy is online β’
>> NEW SERIES REVEAL // I ONLY PAINT IN RED.
>> Habromania: ALICE IN WONDERLAND -- more information underneath the cut.
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rain_candy // sup nerds. welcome to the new stream series alert. it's a little something I set up for brand new stream series when they come out. Call it extra content if you will.
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Series Rating >> [ broken glass // blood rain ]
Habromania follows the story of a young boy named Alice, who stumbles into Wonderland one afternoon. As he travels through Wonderland, he begins to realize... Wonderland holds many more dark secrets than he originally thought... including another Alice who only paints in red now.
Habromania's main cast is as follows:

[ Alice/"Alice" ] , [ The Mad Hatter ] , [ The White Rabbit ] , [ The Queen of Hearts ] , [ The Caterpillar ] and [ The Cheshire Cat ]
All art for the Habromania series is done by yours truly. Heart hands!!!
Any more looking into the stream's history than this, and you might be spoiled. Sorry xoxo - Ame
* new muses added to "askable" protagonist roster: Alice and "Alice"
#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ stream masterlist // fic masterlist ]#[ new stream alert // new series announcements ]
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CHAPTER 0: β.ΰ³ΰΏ*:ο½₯ OVERTURE OF MORTIS ββΊββ β¦ ββΊββ
β I KNOW THIS DREAM OF LIFE IS NEVER-ENDING,
IT GOES AROUND AND ROUND AND ROUND AGAINβ¦ β
β¦
DEATH; an unseen and silent thing. It creeps in the night and consumes without thought, no matter the soulβs light. Wretched or heavenly, it comes for all in time, and leaves tragedy and mourning in its wake. All too sudden and all too quick, that is its nature. But what of the afterlife? What comes next, when death has all but departed with the soul? The lightless abyss where you drift without aim, or where arms will welcome you warmly, with smiles that once was the blood in your beating heart? Is there solace in a rest overdue at last? Is the oblivion a torture in itself? Can you even tell youβre falling if there is neither up nor down anymore? What lies in the afterlife?
Where do you go?
β¦
The first thing before all else comes to mind is a melody, though not one quite clear; the slightly grating tune hangs in the air and circles your head, making it swirl even more than it already was, scratchy in a shuddering rhythm, reminiscent of a vinyl playerβs song, you think. It seems to be murmuring something of a lyrical song, yet the words are far too distant to be discernible, no matter how much you try to focus what remains of your senses upon itβ even if that seems rather uncertain and dwindling further every passing moment.
The song simply continues on without pause nor even the slightest ounce of care for your struggle, and you huff slightly, choosing to momentarily shift your attention onto the burdening of what seemed to be blankets that were cast upon you, almost burying you away entirely in them all. Truthfully, they were quite softβ comfortable even, complete with a black and red decorative patterning, and the dreariness that lurked in your arms, as you slung one across to reach the corner of the blanket, was burning up under your skin, but you managed nonethelessβ at least just enough to shift one of the blankets off and sit up more properly, resting against the wooden bed frame.
Blinking, your eyes dart across the room.
The decorations and furniture made you furrow your brows, fanciful and elegant, harboring accents of gold in its appearance. It all felt rather odd in ways that made your head ache even moreβ you couldnβt quite say why, even if you tried. It was almost sickening. Was it out of pure a contrast of your own nature and self? Perhapsβ you just found comfort in more simple decor than anything else, anything that such a room was far from. Perhaps you never even bothered with decor, only wishing for the comfort of a place to rest your head upon. Or perhaps you indeed were quite an avid enthusiast of such aesthetics, and perhapsβ you justβ¦
β¦
All of your reasoning was futile in its core, your mind running itself worn with utter nothings. What were you even trying to get at with such thoughts? A sense of order? A bitter laugh near escaped at that, as an irony dawned upon you, though one not light.
β¦
βYouβ.
You wereβ¦ ββββββββ
β¦
Huh?
β Youβve awoken. β
You paused, your breath freezing alongside your body as a voice echoed in the room, lacking the fuzziness of the vinyl players tune. Slowly, your gaze trailed from the wardrobe and the shelves, full of potted plants you couldnβt quite discern were alive or simply fake decor, to the chair besides you that you hadnβt even noticed beforeβ had it been there all along?
A figure with pale hair that ran down their shoulders, adorning a crimson hat and scarf and white and black clothing, sitting in the chair with a leg raised over the other, crossed, as they lifted a small, porcelain cup to their mouth and sipped what you presumed was a tea of sorts. Even though their eyes seemingly remained shut as they did so, you couldnβt help but feel as if something was watching you, gazing down at you with not disdain but not quite kindness either. Simply observing.
Lowering the cup, the figure sat it down on a nearby table, clasping their hands together as they shifted to face you. A smile was upon their face as they did so. You werenβt sure if you had it in you to attempt to return itβ or even better yet, if you wanted to.
If your inaction of anything aside from weariness was even paid any mind to begin with, it certainly didnβt seem to discourage them in continuing to speak, as you grabbed ahold of the blankets again and slowly sunk further in it.
β Now, now. Do not flee, β
You grimaced, peering at them from where you hid in the blankets. There lacked any anger or frustration in their tone, simply⦠light, as if a cloud.
β does this room notβ¦ bring any serenity to your heart? β
They tilted their head as the steadiness of their speaking seemed to.. waver around the end, almost trailing off entirely, yet their smile remained evermore; given the oddity of the room and their being, youβd say you had every right to write it off as such, butβ¦
A silence fluttered in the room as they seemed to pause themselves, before their gaze shifted from you to the window, where it lookedβ¦ bleak, truthfully. An utter lack of anything compared to the bedroom youβd found yourself in.
β Ah. I see, thatβs quite answer enough. I will see what I may do next time. β
β¦ Next time..
.. Wait, Next timeβ? Waitβ
β Nonetheless, I had been waiting for you all; itβs been some time, and we both have our own parts to play, no? β
What? Huh? Huh wuh?
You almost yelped and scrambled back as abruptly, the figure suddenly got up from the chair with a slightly unnerving haste, steps echoing across the floor loudly before they stopped, right in front of where you remained, lying on the bed all this time. Slowly, the figure outstretched their handβ as if to shake.
β Let us start here.
To hold a soul, one full of life in every thread of its existence, in your handsβ¦ well, what does it mean to you? β
THE PIROUETTE OF LIFE β A private event askblog based in my own oc universe penned by βYuuβ for the Brainrot server.
CONTENT WARNINGS β Themes such as the concept of life and death/dying and the afterlife, existentialism, violence and murder, religious themes, and more tba as time goes on
Currently, the blog is in its overture state, meaning that this is simply the prelude and beginning stages that allows to set things up and information for the later chapters that are currently in the works! Not much might happen during this, but we ball? Feel free to ask stuff, fuck around and find out, whatever youβd like π«Ά Over time, Iβll gradually write more update posts such as this one β although, do note my motivation and energy fluctuates very easily and it might take me a while to get anything or asks done.
#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ rain candy's recommendations // fics ]#[ ; can i have my name back. can i plEASEEEEE have my name back. ]#[ you. me and you have BEEF my good... sir? ma'am? person??? we have BEEF. ]#[ this bed is comfortable though can i just like. stay here and lie in it pretty pretty pleaseeee /j ]
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[ moderator comments beneath the cut ]
rain_candy // it's been a while since I've been a commenter on someone else's channel... might as well make the most of my break, right?
rain_candy // I really enjoy the very sweet and innocent tones of the stream... Aria seems like someone who values connection and relationships... writing to her brother... wanting him to know her day even when he's not around... can't see that being foreboding or a sign of the future to come at all.
rain_candy // the scenery's description as well is just very... loving and endearing. I almost feel like I'm in there with her in this moonlit hospital room. The feeling of playfulness and secrecy... we're all there.
rain_candy // and can we appreciate the writing? I assume that Aria's condition, it'd make writing difficult and cause spelling errors... but the writing itself is so reflective of Aria's playful personality... and it's really nice and sweet in it's own way. Playful teasing, it's got such a nice and sweet feeling to it, like a sister writing to her brother, it's got so much love and passion behind its words... and it's not enough to get to the point when the point is so much more than that.
rain_candy // I also really like the relationship portrayed in the stream... between Aria and Kadence. It's something like childhood friends in a really sweet way. The pun was... uhm... 5/10, it could have better. Wait, why am I critiquing a random girl's letter, I didn't even get to finish school.
rain_candy // oh, and the breakdown... wondering if someone you love with all of your heart will ever come back... i kind of feel that myself sometimes... you're always left wondering if you'll see that loved one ever again and it sucks... but the stream portrays a young view of that really well... it's a nice setup to confronting an underlying fear.
rain_candy // ...
rain_candy // oh lord she hit her friend in the forehead, didn't she-
γ»β₯ THE MOONLIT LETTER (MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE)
β₯ SEAβS OMEN ~ CONTENT WARNINGS: Hospitals and hospitalization, various mentions of and themes centered around medical conditions, repeatedly described physical distress and pain, brief fear of death
β To, the best brother in the world. β
β¦ pffft. Ariaβs face twisted into a childish grin at her own scrawled words, settled within a slightly crumpled paper on her lap; the sudden, jagged and aching pain that was thrumming in the left side of her face mere moments before spiking near immediately upon the small movement alone, earning a small hiss from the young girl, before she leaned back slightly and took a deep, slightly trembling breath, attempting to ignore the further clawing ache in her chest. It was fineβ she was fine. Her hands reached to weakly cling onto the paper, as if itβd slip away (or worse yet be taken from her) the moment sheβd dare to let go.
Everyoneβ her parents, Annemarie, and even her brother had told her to just stay put in the bed, to just rest. Just rest, and everything would be okay soon. Over and over, soft, gentle, and yet so muffled murmurs amidst the utter blur of all of the agony she felt over the past few weeks. It hurtβ it hurt so badly, but itβ it didnβt matter. For now, it didnβt matter. She just had toβ she needed to find it in her, that strength that Annemarie would tell her about when the days dragged on too much in the hospital, just long enough to at least get this done. Steadying herself and her spinning head with another breath, she shifted her legs a bit under the blankets of the bed, and held the pencil against the paper again, a light blue eye darting around the room momentarily to ensure nobody would discover her awake so late. Her room had been organized in the higher floors of the building, the pale moon shining against the inky sky from the window; a comforting and kind light that danced across the paper as she gazed back down and wrote as balanced as she could.
β Hi! Have you been ohkay okay? Weβre all worried, especially Anne! Hmph! You better come back as fastβ β
Aria paused, before pressing the pencil harsher down onto the paper with all the strength she could muster, darkening the word for emphasis.
β βas possible! Sheβs really, really, really nice, you shouldnβt ever make her sad! >:o. So, as revenge, when you get back, Iβm going to steal your camera (hey you left it here!!!) and Iβll take the best photo of you looking as funny that time you tripped and fell into a duck pond while you were on a date with her, and itβll be in my scrapbook forever! Mwahahahahaha! I hope youβre prepared! β
Maybe she should ought to suggest Annemarie to have her and her brotherβs someday wedding by a duck pond. A light snicker slipped from her mouth at the thought, far too quiet for anyone who wouldβve come into the room to have heard, but her eye widened slightly and she went still against the plenty of pillows that surrounded her for a few moments, holding her breath all the while in the silence of the night, only broken by the shuffling in the hallway of what she presumed mustβve been a nurse passing by. Slowly, as the coast seemed clear, Aria exhaled, nervously bringing the paper closer to her to avoid irritating her wounds anymore than she had tonight.
Right, she only had so long.
β Kadence has been visiting lots too, we play a lot of games, like.. checkers, connect four, stuff like that! Iβve been getting plenty of wins in your honor, of course! And sometimes, he even brings me foyo if I ask him enough about it! Itβs really sweet.
β¦
He just went quiet suddenly when I said that and said he was going to punt me. Eek! Can you believe him? Ruuuuuuude. β¦ I think he was serious about that. Tough crowd.. maybe you should return soon, I might need to hide behind you the next time I ever say one again. Or Anne. She likes them a lot, actually! Maybe when you get back, we should have a competisson competiton. Thatβd be a lot of fun. Anne could judge, even Kadence too if I can win him over. Maybe if I look at him with really sad eyes, heβll cave in. Heβs got to. Right?? I donβt want to be punted. It sounds scary. Help!! β
A shudder passed through Aria at the thought as she sank down in the bed. Sheβd seen plenty of movies, but it always seemed so overly fantastically, she barely ever blinked twice aside from maybe chuckling at the absurdity. But Kadence was Kadenceβ she was sure he could probably find a way to send her flying into the stars. Somehow, someway. It sounded just like him.
Jetsum really needed to return soon, he wasnβt even going to have a sister to return to at this rate!
β¦
When was he going to return?
The simple clock on the wall ticked, and ticked away. Itβd felt like forever since she had been rushed hereβ and maybe even more since her brother had gone away, and the hours felt so slow, as if to torture and mock her every moment that she could even manage it in her to have the will to remain awake to bear it, which was dwindling by the second she felt her every breath tear her apart further and further, and all she could do was sob, even if it only worsened the sensation that pierced through her.
But, when she sobbed, her brother had been there. On the day she was brought into the hospital, rushed in by a flurry of yelling that she could barely have made out even if she tried, he had been by her side, never letting go of her hand. On the day thatβ when she thinks the pain had started at all, when sheβd screamed for someone, he had ran in before their parents even had managed to stumble inside. He was there.
And then he wasnβt.
It wasnβt going to be long, he said, it was only for a year at best, and that companyβ βUrbanshadeββ would most likely deem him ready to leave.
A year.
A year that, no matter what Anne had said to her when she rested upon her shoulder during her visits, no matter how much her fun with Kadence brought her mind away from it, and no matter how much her parents soothed her and swore that sheβd be okay, a year that sheβ
βshe didnβt even know if she had.
Ariaβs hands started shaking, their grip tightening on the fragile paper and pencil to the point that it couldβve almost torn roughly in two with the trembling gesture.
β Brother, β She whispered, hating how much it hurt to move her mouthβ hating how all she could manage now was a weak sound that vaguely couldβve been discernible as β brother. β
She curled up against the soft pillows, gulping on anxious, uneasy breaths as her eye stung with a familiar feeling, and it had only taken a moment of blinking for a small, wet drop to fall onto the paper, staining the thin material. The moment it had hit and seeped through, Aria blinked through her tears, yelping as she desperately scrambled to hold the paper away, almost flinging it off the bed entirely in her panic. She couldnβt let it be ruined, after so much effort through her arms that was burning up with the ache and exhaustion. She wouldnβt let it. For a brief moment, her utter frustration boiled over into something of a resolve that vaguely numbed her mind, as she sucked in a small breath, trying to blink away the tears.
Her brother deserved as best as she could do for this. Hadnβt he done so much for her?
Heβd done so much just for any chance that she would make through her time here.
Aria might as well have made it count.
She stretched one of her arms a bit, her elbow hitting what mustβve been the railings of the bed as she prepared to jot down her final words for the night whenβ
ββ OW ! β
Aria whipped around so fast with a loud squeal she almost passed out then and there.
β¦
β β¦ I miss you a lot too, Brother. Itβs been really scary, to be honest. Especially without you here. I wish you were, at least for five minutes.
It feels like itβs been so long, and I feel really tired a lot.. but itβs just going to be a year, right? A year away, as I get better and better, until I can finally be let out of here! And when I see you again, Iβm going to give you the tightest hug ever! And if you want.. you can join me in all of the adventures Iβll finally have again, we can even take photographs together to keep, andβ¦ we could even have another dyed streak together!
I donβt know what color.. but thatβs okay! When you get back, we could talk about it. You could also tell me about everything that happened while you were gone, Iβm curious, you know! Was it scary too? We could be scared together about all of this. I wouldnβt mind.
Soβ¦ wait for me, Brother! And Iβll wait for you!
Itβll only be a matter of time.
Sincerely from, your coolest sister of all time, who misses you lots.
P.S. Kadence helped me write this after I accidentally hit him and woke him up. I owe him one of the sodas from the vending machine. Siiiiighh.
In the morning light, Aria was cuddled up in blankets, sleeping far more peacefully than she had in a while.
#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ rain candy's recommendations // fics ]#[ ; yOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU /j ]
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γ»β₯ THE BEGINNING OF HER END (MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE)
β₯ SEAβS OMEN ~ CONTENT WARNINGS: minor violence & child injury, arm injury & bruises, references to animal harm & hatred, religious themes, implications of dysfunctional family dynamics
Within the village, there almost seemed to be no such thing as an unusual day.
It was as if an unspoken spell of a routine had overcome most of the residents in the midst of the night, creeping upon them like an unseen beast and replacing any sense they had beforehand. It was near fine clockwork; from their homes they would emerge, all with the same air of hesitance and weariness as the rest, and to His church, the daylight would be spent in murmured prayers for hope and peace in their souls at last, before everyone was dismissed.
Little, if anyone at all, bothered to linger about in the townβs center afterwards, where crowds had once bustled and voices were a mind aching enigma to somehow decipher from the cacophony; now, it was nothing more than where those dark birds fondly hopped about without much care in the world, where she once would, skipping alongside her mother with their arms intertwined. Andβ her mother would smile, it was never as wide or even beaming as hers was, but it was lighter than any of the clouds that hung over the village nowadays, swirling somberly, and lighter than what this village had become, a dreadful and dreary place, where the air was felt far too thick to be able to breathe and clamored in her throat and lungs, where nobody but her awoke from the daze that mustβve been cast on them.
Whether they couldnβt or just wouldnβtβ Pandora didnβt know, and knew even less which she couldβve been able to handle.
Her gaze hadnβt moved much since she had come to rest against the window sill, staring blearily into where the fountain of the town was. It was a habit of hers; not that there was anything particularly interesting to look at aside from the occasional chatter between some of the passing by townsfolk (had Mr. Aysuo really almost fallen asleep during His speech?), or those birds that she oh so wished to bicker with until they all scrammed, but it gave her something to do. Something to pass the time with, as well as simply using her imagination when things seemed too dull and boring otherwiseβ weaving thousands of tales within her mind, some that made her laugh, the sound echoing against the silence of the house.
(Her mother was home often, but when was the last time it wasnβt just her voice alone laughing?)
Though, today, she could barely find herself thinking about anything far from the village when it seemed to be interrupted by a crowβs landing upon the ledge of the fountain, another seemingly for every time she took a breathe to calm herself, and return to her own thoughts. Their beady eyes stared into her own, uncaring, and so selfish. How dare they? Her hands resting against the window sill suddenly shifted, gripping the edge with an agitation that was only worsening the more that those birds perched so comfortably, looking upon her as if she was beneath all of their sorry feathers. A wordless frustrated noise bubbled from her throat, tears even more at her eyes.
Stupid birds.
Stupid. Stupid.
She hated them, she hated them all.
It wasnβt fair. None of this was fair.
They did this.
It wasnβt fairβ!
With a shriek, Pandora lifted her fist, and with as much force as she could muster, banged it against the glass, thudding almost even louder than her own scream, drowning out any other sounds that couldβve been there.
β Leave! β Her words mustβve rang out with how loud they were, as some of the birds flinched at the commotion, stumbling back with ruffled feathers. A brief pride in her flickered against her anger to see them cower at last after how much they seemed to enjoy their peace, but it hardly did anything to soothe her enough to stop. She banged her arms against the window again, caring little for how it seemed to shake in its frame at the impact, again, and again, and again. Most of the birds didnβt seem keen on fleeing, only watching with a practical amusement at the spectacle, but some didβ and she would make sure they were all gone soon enoughβ
β Pandora! β
Against the ruckus of her own banging and the glass, she barely was able to register the door to the home opening, the running steps against the wooden floors to her room, or even her name being called out, but before she could even try to attack the window againβ larger arms suddenly swept around her body, swiftly pulling her away from the window with a yelp, much to her dismay. She kicked and thrashed against their arms with a yell for a few moments, until a heaviness settled into her limbs, and finallyβ the girl slumped against the other with a soft exhale as a hand fell upon her forehead, brushing away her hair with a panicked haste as they stumbled out of her room and into the living room. Tilting her head with the little energy that remained, Pandora shifted her gaze from the now scratched up window to her motherβs face.
β Pandora! Whatβ? Are you hurt?! Iβ β
Her mother almost spoke faster than Pandora could actually understand, and before she knew it, she was placed down onto the couch sitting upright, her arms outstretched lightly to examine. She wasnβt able to bear staring at them for longβ the pain was already starting to rush in at once, and it hadnβt taken a long look to notice the dark spots already forming amongst her skin. A wince couldnβt help but escape her as she felt the burning chill of ice lightly pressed against her arms, slightly writhing at the sensation. Stilling the ice against her slightly, the woman in question moved her free hand to the girlβs cheek, holding it. She opened her mouth to speak, only to pause slightly on her words as her brows furrowed.
β β¦ Youβll.. β She started, voice accidentally coming out more as a mumble than anything elseβ it was barely soothing in any way truthfully, and shifting a bit where she was sat, Pandora started to sway her legs nervously, gaze fixed off to the side. Her mother blinked, before clearing her throat, speaking quickly with a far more confidence, only stumbling on her words slightly in an effort to correct herself. β Iβ No, noβ Youβll be fine, Pandora. I promise. β The gentle assurance relaxed the unease that was beginning to stir from the entire event, and Pandora settled herself against her motherβs hand, leaning into it with a small sound.
The room fell quiet, only the sound of the couch moving a bit as her mother joined her side, holding her closer, being sure to not irritate her wounds by accident.
After a few moments passed, her mother spoke up again. β What happened? Why.. β
Pandora fidgeted with her hands, looking downwards. Perhaps they truly were mother and daughter, all she could manage with her own words was hushed at best and indecipherable at worst, and all it earned was a small β What? β from her mother, whose concern barely wavered. She simply huffed aimlessly, there wasnβt any use in attempting to repeat her murmurs under her breath, and instead, she blinked up at her mother. For most of the day, she had been out, bidding her a quick farewell since the afternoonβ¦ and, well, to be honestβ her own curiosity was more interesting to entertain.
β Where have you been all day? β
β .. Hm? Oh, just.. with Mr. Pagini and Mr. Ayuso. β
β Why? β
β Just.. β Her mother seemed to look away suddenly, making Pandora tilt her head. β They had asked me to, help search for Mr. Ayusoβs hat, he had lost it taking a stroll. β
β β¦ You took too long. β Pandora pouted. If her arms hadnβt been resting, she wouldβve crossed them. Her mother laughed softly at that, shaking her head a bit, and it was almost nice.
Almost.
Something seemed to weigh in her motherβs laugh, something that Pandora couldnβt place her finger upon. It wasβ¦ off, from the way that it had been usually off nowadays, and it made her head spin a bit.
β You should be resting now, Pandora. β
(Within the village, there almost seemed to be no such thing as an unusual day.
Almostβ until that βAngelβ appeared.)
#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ rain_candy's recommendations // fics ]#[ ; definitely worth a read!!! this fic has me in shambles. it's ruined my LIFE /j ]#[ the mother-daughter relationship portrayed is soOOO GOOOD. ]#[ and pandora's beef with birds? i feel so seen. sniffles /j ]#[ and the tantrum against the birds and the window and- oughhh just go read the fick you guys its SO worth the read. ]
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Ground Control to Psychoelectric Angel [ bag of marshmallows / broken glass / blood rain ]
This story will contain the following themes, as well as a heavy emphasis on more adult themes and humors, including a portrayal of a romantic/intimate relationship between Angel and Ame.
content warning for: [ inspired by Needy Streamer Overload and the Ground Control to Psychoelectric Angel Ending ] [ heavy themes of love bombing, themes of affection and desire, brief mentions of self-harm/self-neglect, mention of taking drugs/coercing someone into taking drugs, brief mentions of childhood neglect, partial themes of memory loss/amnesia, and things of the like. ]

Even if we're on different wavelengths, I know you'll still understand me, and that's what I love about you.
There was always some kind of saying about love. I don't actually remember what it was, something stupid most likely.
Rain.
Angel wouldn't lie, he loved the rain... when it was pouring outside and he wasn't stuck walking in it. Sighing slowly, he pulled out his umbrella. Opening it slowly, he groaned.
He hated working at the convenience store so badly. The pay was so bad, the customers were abysmal at best, gross at worst, and the manager was just awful. And he was always stuck with the closing shift. While he knew this place wasn't overly dangerous, walking home in the dark was still... frightening. Taking the train alone at night already sucked, but having to travel in the rain and the fog?
Looking around as he stepped out into the rain, he sighed again. The rain was so dreary and heavy, it was... depressing. His shoes weren't made for the rain, but, rain shoes weren't made for work either... Maybe he'd have to start bringing rain shoes to work. That would be very... annoying. But, at least his feet wouldn't be so soaked next time. His shoes clicked against the ground, and light thuds of rain jumped from puddle to puddle as he walked. The sound of cars running down the street constantly filled his ears, the sound of the rain against the cars' roofs and against the stores' roofs. It was almost tranquil... if it wasn't for the splashing of water from rushing cars and drunken bystanders stumbling around and into him.
Grimacing as a man drunkenly fumbled into him, Angel huffed. This was hellish. Placing one hand on the man's shoulder, he lightly directed the man in an opposing direction. He could tell the man was drunk beyond belief, but he didn't want this man to become a big problem. He simply didn't have the desire to deal with unnecessary issues like that.
His father would tell him to have more "sympathy" in a situation like this. He wondered where that sympathy was for him during all those empty nights.
...
He didn't realize how far he strayed, leading the stumbling drunken man away from the busy street. Looking around, Angel paused a moment. He couldn't tell if it was due to the heavy rain limiting his vision, but, he was unable to identify any landmarks or anchor points. He felt... a little lost.
Just his luck.
His head turned from side to side slowly, grumbling as he down the several alleyways. In the distance, he could vaguely make out the shape of a tent and a figure, sitting out in the heavy rain. Most likely a homeless person... he was there once. It wasn't fun.
Taking a deep breath, he grimaced. He didn't own a phone, hell, he couldn't afford a phone. He only had two options. Try to find his own way back... or ask the homeless person in front of him. Neither option seemed particularly appealing.
Grumbling to himself, he hesitantly moved forward, towards the person ahead of him. His heels clicked in the heavy rain, slowly coming to a stop before the log the person sat on.
"Excuse me?"
His voice felt a little hoarse coming out of his throat like that. It sounded a little strained... a little weak. It hurt to hear himself like that.
But it did its job of garnering the attention of the homeless person in front of him. A young woman, wearing a cloth cloak, with thick, long purple hair glanced at him, ever so slightly. Nothing more than a side glance... he couldn't blame her.
"Do I know you?"
"... I don't think I do."
Angel's hand hovered over his chest slightly, and he could have sworn the woman's disappointment hung in the air. It felt so heavy... There was a moment of sadness on the girl's face, and then, she sighed, leaning her head to the side ever so slightly.
"You're lost too, aren't you?"
Angel grimaced to himself. Was it really that obvious? Biting his tongue, he nodded in response. The girl hummed slightly, nodding back.
"I was wondering if you knew how to get to the train station...? I can figure the rest out from there, but..."
The girl craned her head to the side, looking at the ground solemnly. Her eyes focused on the ground as if she were averting Angel's gaze.
"I... have memory issues. Even if I knew, I've probably forgotten by now. I don't even know my own name. It's a little sad."
Angel paused a moment, grimacing. He... felt a little bad. But he didn't ask for a sob story either. Grumbling, he took a step forward, haphazardly holding the umbrella out slightly. In doing so, the rain falling on the girl lessened. It wasn't a perfect fix, of course, he didn't know how long it had been raining on the poor thing... but something was better than nothing.
"Then, mind helping me find it? I'll buy you some food for the trouble."
It wasn't the perfect solution, of course. He barely knew the chick, and he barely knew the area either. Hell, buying her food for this one favor might put himself out of a meal. But, he knew one thing. Creeps would be less likely to try anything if they thought he was with someone. And...
He really didn't care.
He could survive with one less meal. He's done it before. He can do it again. Pausing, the girl seemed to... hesitate a moment. Standing up straight, she looked at the man a second time, then, diverted her gaze once more.
"Food. I like the way you make deals."
"... My name's Angel."
It wasn't really, but, he hated his real name. Both his first name... and his last. The girl was silent a moment, and then she reached out, hesitantly grasping ahold of the outstretched umbrella. Tilting his head slightly, he found her hand... a little odd. She wore five metallic claw coverings, one covering each finger. They were all unique with interesting markings, yet, they didn't seem to hinder her movement even slightly.
"... the name Ame means rain, right?"
"... it does. It also means candy, I think."
"I like that. Can you call me Ame?"
Pausing a moment, Angel nodded slowly. Ame... it was a nice name. But, naming yourself after the rain sounded... a little depressing. But, he wouldn't knock her for it.
...
Ame didn't talk much. Angel wasn't expecting her to, but, still. A little effort would have been nice. The silence weighed down so heavily... Angel thought it was going to crush him.
"... your memories."
It blurted out suddenly, like an unprepared confession to your middle school crush.
"My memories?"
His mind felt like it was going to explode. He turned towards Ame, his soaking off-white hair clinging to his face like a leech. He swore, every time he tried to wipe it out of his face, it would just frizz up and get back in the way.
"Yeah. You uh, you mentioned that you have memory issues back in the alleyway."
"... did I?"
... he groaned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Was it really that poor? He almost felt a little bad. Keyword: almost.
"It's... true. My memory is quite poor..."
Glancing away, Ame's gaze fell on a nearby bookstore. Her pace slowed down a little until the two ground to a complete halt. The wind chill was particularly bad that day, he felt like he was going to shatter into tiny, angel-sized pieces if they stopped too suddenly. He wondered how she seemed so unbothered by it.
"I can't remember anything. My family, my hometown, my friends if I had any... I don't even remember my name. I am... old, but not too old I think."
"Old, but not too old, huh? I'm 17 years old."
"I think the old woman I met last... it was something about becoming a... "real adult"? I don't... uhm... you know?"
"... A real adult would be an 18-year-old. And, y'know I think I kind of get the point."
"I would say it's been this way as long as I can remember... but then it becomes a little ironic. What is this place?"
Her gaze fixated on the bookstore in front of her, never wavering. Angel paused, then, hesitantly, he pointed up, towards the sign of the shop.
"It's a bookstore. They sell books and magazines in there. Some of them even sell toys and figurines, or disks and DVDs."
"It looks magical in there."
Turning towards Angel, her lips pursed a little, as if a question perched itself on the edge of her lips. A question he wasn't sure if she even remembered wanting to ask.
"... did you want to go inside?"
He wasn't... completely sure why he asked if he was being honest. He wanted nothing more than to find the train station and go back to his home. He wanted nothing more than to change out of these damn clothes that clung to his back, to heat up his day-old leftovers, eat, and smoke until he couldn't feel anything anymore. It was the only thing capable of soothing this mind-numbing pain that knawed at his skin day by dreadful day. Yet... she seemed so curious. He couldn't help but wonder, he thought to himself.
Ame nodded slowly, seeming... almost a little hesitant. He had never seen her smile, he thought to himself. Taking the umbrella from Ame's hand, he closed it, gently shaking off any excess rain before taking a step forward. Holding his umbrella, he carefully placed in it one of the provided "rain bags", ensuring the water from his umbrella wouldn't get everywhere in the shop. Then, turning to Ame, he grimaced. Her cloak... was soaked. Hesitantly, he reached over towards Ame, his hand scrapping against her face lightly as he pulled the hood back.
He didn't realize how pretty she was without it. Her eyes were such a pretty purple color, and there were snow-like freckles dotting her skin that he hadn't noticed before.
"... You have to take off your cloak before you can go inside though. We can put it inside one of these free rain bags. You can... borrow my raincoat. It might be a little big though."
Pointing toward the rain bags with his other hand, Angel paused. Ame glanced at his hand for a moment before nodding. She wasn't wearing much underneath the cloak, he realized. But what she did have on underneath the cloak was relatively dry... they could work with that, he supposed. Carefully, he took off the light blue raincoat he wore, holding it out towards her. It's a shame. That coat kept him somewhat warm.
"Here. Put it on. You look sleazy."
Pushing the door open with his arm, he motioned to Ame to follow him inside the bookstore. It felt something akin to bringing a child into a candy store. He didn't think someone could be so... amazed by something so simple.
Yet, she always seemed to find something new. And asking new questions. Just when he thought he finally ironed out the last one, like a kid in a candy store, she had a new one.
"What's "entomology"?" "Study of bugs." "Oh... ooo."
"It Ends With Us...? Who is us?" "... the people in the book?? I guess."
"What's astrology?" "Stuff about the stars. And star signs." "Star signs???"
Eventually, she settled down, seeming satisfied with the answers to her many... many questions. It felt like an eternity in there (it was only 10 minutes, though.) before Ame walked close to Angel, holding a small book in her hands. Hesitantly, she held it out towards him.
"... what's this?"
"It's a book about... space. And planets. And it's only 500 yen."
500 yen? That was... quite a normal price for a short book like that. He sighed a bit, crossing his arms as he held the book in his hand. His brows furrowed slightly as he eyed the book, then, grimacing, he scoffed as he reached into his pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he opened it up with another grimace frown. He really didn't have the spending money to be doing this.
He didn't know why, but this girl's unadulterated excitement for simple leisure had him so... smitten. He remembers a time when he was excited about his first book too, he supposed.
"Here. Go get it, it won't get any cheaper."
It would get cheaper, he thought, as he handed her a 500 yen coin. It would get cheaper. But she might not be around still when it finally does. An expression of shock flashed on Ame's face, and then, a soft smile replaced it. ... She looked really pretty when she smiled.
"Yay! Thank you... Angel?"
"Oh, hey. You remembered my name."
...
The rain seemed to have let up while they were busy accidentally shopping. How quaint. It hadn't let up completely, but the rain wasn't nearly as heavy anymore.
Looking around, Angel tilted his head. Then, as if on cue, Ame pointed toward the train station in the distance.
"Is that the train station you were looking for, Angel?"
"It was. You're so observant."
He noticed it way before she had. It was nice to see she didn't lose track of their literal one and only objective, he thought. Food... he did promise her that much. She was a good travel partner. He briefly wondered if they could be more. He didn't know why. Shaking his head, he wanted to launch that thought out of there. Why was he thinking about that? He wasn't that lonely.
Right?
"Do you have a favorite thing to eat?"
"... You're still buying me food?"
She sounded surprised by his question, taken a little aback. Angel turned and shrugged. His hair curled against his shoulders, bouncing lightly in the wind.
"I promised you. You help me find it, I'll buy you food from it. There's a 7-11 inside, I can buy you some chicken or some bread. Whatever you want."
Holding out his hand gently, Ame paused. Hesitantly, she reached out, a shaky hand hovering about his, never touching down. Sighing, Angel reached up, grabbing onto her hand, and tugging her closer.
"Come on! You can just jump the bar."
"H-Hey, wait-"
---
There was always some kind of saying about love. I think it was something about being blind?
He hummed softly as he picked up a book off the massive bookshelf. Ame's curiosity never did die out. She used to have to beg with him, to plead for him to buy her "just one more book". It was never just one book... but she was always so endearing about it. Even now and again, he finds her clinging to his arm whenever they walk past a bookstore.
Running his fingers lightly over the cover, he cocked his head to the side. His eyes felt on the silver lettering on the cover.
"Space and Planets... Wasn't this the book I bought for Ame when we first met?"
His fingers slid across the cover, gently hooking around it, and then, tugging lightly, the cover flipped over, a flurry of pages dancing in the wind. The pages were all covered in sticky notes, hand-written notes all over the book, stuck to every page.
... so that was where all his sticky notes disappeared off to. A rainy day on a closing shift and one book has opened the path to so much more... He almost missed it, a bit. Well, he didn't miss most of it. He didn't miss the grueling work schedule or the nasty customers, nor did he miss the drunken trash crowding the streets. He didn't miss the commutes, or the traveling, the pay was abysmal, the manager was certainly a piece of work, and he just... okay, correction. He didn't miss anything about the life he was about to leave behind. He just felt oddly melancholic now that it was all over.
Closing the book with a soft 'thud', Angel smiled gently. He knew most of Ame's books would have to go into storage, with the new streaming setup incoming, he simply didn't have the space for it all to fit... but it wouldn't hurt to keep the one, he thought to himself. And... it wouldn't hurt to see what all Ame had collected from him over the years either.
Entomology... the study of bugs. He hated bugs with a passion, creepy crawling creatures gave him the shudders. They were all the same, and they all needed to stay outside. They keep in their homes, and he'll stay in his own. There would be no issues. Ame didn't seem to care much for it beyond the first read, he noted. She wasn't too keen for a reread. She reread books a lot.
It Ends With Us was atrocious. He regretted spending money on it. It presented its topics horribly, without grace or tact. It led to an awkward talk with Ame, like explaining the birds and the bees to a child. He should burn it.
Astrology... Ame made him buy a couple books about it. She seemed to enjoy the topic a lot. Ame showed an interest in all things space and the stars... it was like a one-way trip on The Galatic Express. Star signs were a particular favorite of Ame's, she had four books on just those alone... she made learning new things look so hot he was kind of mad. Book nerds shouldn't be allowed to be hot. That should be illegal.
Tilting the cover of the book in his hand, he chuckled. Tossing the book into the cardboard box and shifting back on one foot, Angel tilted his head. Glancing over the now empty space, he tapped his chin softly. The first computer monitor could go over there... and the second monitor could go over there... he bought one of those rainbow keyboards-
A gentle knock on the door snapped Angel out of a planner's daze. Glancing over, his eyes fluttered slightly, falling on the young woman, standing in the doorway. Her messy purple hair was pulled back into a weak bun, and she wore a gorgeous deep purple silk robe gown and an oversized white cotton shirt. He briefly wondered what she'd look like wearing less.
"I finished packing up everything in the bedroom, Angel... I'm tired though. Moving the boxes to the living room has me exhausted..."
Chuckling softly, he leaned closer to Ame, his fingers lightly clinging along the silk ribbon tied around her waist. Tugging along the ribbon lightly, he wanted nothing more than to pull it off of her and watch it fall. But in that moment, she felt so far away. His fingers entwined themselves between the layers of ribbon, lightly locking around the silk fabric before gently tugging the woman towards him. Ame yelped in response, fumbling slightly as her foot took a step forward. Her hands lightly bumped against Angelβs chest, hovering against his shoulders.
βYouβre like a war machine. So deadly and silent, yet so effective~ I just finished up with the spare books in this room, I still have so much I need to do to get this room fully set upβ¦β
Ame paused a moment, then, with furrowed brows, she shook her head firmly. Gently, she slammed her hands against his shoulder, letting them rest there as she spoke.
βBut youβve been working and building things all day. You deserve to have a break too! Come and take a quick nap with meβ¦ You tend to be a jackass when you're tired. Well, you're a jackass all the time, it just gets worse when you're tired.β
"Wooooooow."
Rolling his eyes in response, Angel debated shoving her away by her little silk waist. Maybe she'd trip over the box and fall. But... that would only be proving her point though. Damn. Sighing, he paused. Her pout was so... annoyingly cute. The ribbon slipped through his fingers as he lifted his hand. Lightly sliding his fingers through her hair, Angel leaned closer to the pouting girl's face. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid pout off of her stupid pretty little face.
...
Her lips felt a lot softer than he initially imagined. He was never quite aware of it until that very moment. His fingers twitched slightly, a small tug, a weak embrace. Dragging his nails along Ame's bare skin, he pulled away slightly, the air feeling so cool on their lips. Part of him craved more... he wasn't sure why.
"... na, I'm not tired! Maybe after all the technicals are set up."
"ANGEL..."
Snickering slightly, Angel's hands rested on Ame's shoulders lightly. Her face was dusted pink, although, he barely saw it. Covering her face in her sleeves, she stumbled out of the room, cursing his name the entire way out. Rubbing his hand through his hair, he chuckled again. Worth it.
...
Yawning, Angel set down the screwdriver. His eyes fluttered, his vision blurring slightly, fatigue really was a whole different kind of beast. Closing his eyes a moment, he groaned. He couldn't fall asleep, not yet. Yawning again, his fingers entwined within themselves as he moved his arms, stretching dreary limbs.
Shaking his head, Angel rubbed his face in annoyance. Building furniture sucked. Moving boxes sucked. Packing up items they had no use for sucked. Moving the boxes from the house into the car sucked. He didn't have money, he couldn't afford any treats, everything just sucked. And those boxes? Having to move them into storage all on his lonesome? Oh hoo hoooo, don't get me started, I will be here alllll day. It just... sucked.
Shifting onto his back, Angel groaned. He lay, sprawled out on the floor in a (quite pathetic) tired display of desperation. He didn't want to get up and disturb his sleeping beauty in bed, but he was truly dead tired. His fingers lingered on his lips, a small mumble escaping from his mouth. He felt... well, he didn't feel guilty persay. He enjoyed it, he enjoyed it a lot. She tasted like cherry sweets, it was such a sweet taste on his lips. Part of him craved more.
... and the other part of him felt bad.
Mumbling, he shifted onto his side. Running his hand through his hair, he grumbled. Maybe taking a nap on the floor wouldn't be so bad. He could set up his streaming set up when he woke up again. He wouldn't have to go very far, at least. Arugh... no, he couldn't do that... For starters, that'd be painful when he woke up, he'd probably be cold, his neck would certainly ache, and he didn't want to think more about it whatsoever. Groaning, he reluctantly sat up, dragging shaky nails through his hair.
Sighing, he grumbled again. Standing up shakily, he mumbled. Stumbling through the dark apartment, Angel gritted his teeth. His fingers laid on the doorway, the dim lighting from the outside room lighting up the room slightly. The light made her look so heavenly, even if she was simply swallowed up by the several colorful blankets in their shared bed. Taking a step forward, Angel yawned again. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he yawned again. The bed caved slightly underneath his weight, causing sleepy protests to slip from Ame's lips. Leaning back, he sank into the soft fabric of the bed, yawning again.
Yeah, this was definitely more comfortable than sleeping on the floor, by a mile.
His hair curled against the pillow, his fingers twitching against his bare skin. His eyes fell on Ame's sleeping figure, watching as she gently tossed and turned in her sleep, before settling on her side, her fingers lightly gripping onto his arm. Her head laid against his shoulder, her hair tied back, laid neatly behind her on the bed. She looked so peaceful in her slumber... he swore she was glistening almost.
"... it pisses me off how pretty you are sometimes."
It also pissed him off how fast he had fallen asleep afterward. Oh, she would have reveled in being right.
...
His head felt as if someone just rammed into him with a truck. His eyes fell on the slightly ajar door, the golden light peering through the cracks. Had he slept through the night, he wondered. Glancing over, Ame appeared to have gotten closer to him while he was asleep, now with her head lying against his chest, her hand resting underneath his shirt. Her fingers twitched slightly, and another set of protests slipped through sleepy lips, although he wasn't quite what it was she was protesting against.
Rubbing his head, he groaned. He still had a myriad of things he had to complete before he could even start his streaming career. But, he couldn't really do that while Ame slept on top of him... and she fell asleep before him. It must be so difficult being a pretty princess.
Let's see... he had already packed and taken all the boxes into the rented space, cleaned and dusted the area, and put up the pretty blackout curtains, as well as the special decorations they had bought to decorate the streaming space, and he built all the furniture they had bought. However... he still had to set up the computers, keyboards, and speakers, as well as try on the streaming outfits he bought and make the necessary alterations, try on all the makeup products...
But... it wouldn't kill him to rest a little longer.
---
"You got an email, Angel. It's about... rent."
.. Rent. That certainly was an issue he had to worry about, huh? Sitting down on the couch next to her, he slid his arm around her shoulder, leaning close. His eyes scanned the email, a frown creasing his face. Rent... if he couldn't get 10,000 followers, they'd be homeless.
"What are we going to do if we can't make money for rent in time..?"
His brows furrowed further, and disappointment edged in his voice. If he couldn't do it, they'd be homeless. He knew how unforgiving it was to be homeless, and to bring someone else out of it through your own efforts, only to be the reason they fall back into it? The thought made him nervous.
"I mean... I guess I could go back to living with my dad if it doesn't work out... But I'd really rather not go back to living with a man who was never around if I can help it."
Reaching out, his fingers brushed against her hair. His thumb lingered against her cheek, a look of bewilderment settling in on her face. He was homeless once himself, a long time ago. He had run away from home. His father hadn't even noticed. And he never came looking for him. There was no food in that house anyway. No food, no clean clothes, dirty dishes everywhere, rats in the walls, cut off electricity. He knew his father was doing better now, he even adopted a little orphan girl! Wow. He totally didn't feel any negative emotion towards that situation at all!
Totally.
"Aaaactually I'd rather die. Nevermind. We're gonna make rent, darling! We have to."
Leaning in, he gently and quickly pressed his lips against Ame's cheek, pinching her face with a chuckle. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to give her a good house and a fair shot at life. He wants to be able to spoil her and shower her in gifts.
More than anything... he just wanted her to stay in his life. Even if she is just a nerd with a pretty face. Deep down, he knew it was something more. I just don't want to admit it.
"... Angel..."
Ame's fingers twitched slightly, hovering over her chest with an expression of worry. Angel never seemed to enjoy talking about his family. If anything... it always seemed to make him angry. She wondered what happened in his childhood that made him so angry.
...
Angel paused a moment, glancing down as he tilted his head. Ame's face lay lightly against his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist lightly. It was such a light and gentle hug... leaning over slightly, his fingers gently brushing against her skin, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. He nuzzled her forehead with his own, a gentle smile crossing his face. He adored her, so so much.
"I'm okay. I swear."
"Are you sure..?"
"I am... and, we're going to make rent. And we're going to make a loooot of money. And we're going to live like kings and queens... because I am your favorite internet streamer."
Running his thumb along Ame's face, it briefly brushed against her lips. Lingering a moment, his mind wandered. To live like kings and queens... meant to live at the top, to be the best of the best. To eat the food they wanted to, to buy the clothes they wanted to buy, to purchase the house they wanted, to travel where their hearts desired, to love, lust, and desire as they pleased... he wondered if he was promising too much. He'd love to make her his queen... but he didn't want to overpromise, or underdeliver...
Heat flushed in his cheeks, a small grumble surfacing in his throat. His fingers froze up, twitching slightly where they lay. Oh, the things he'd do if he could just be shameless. Unfortunately, embarrassment was something that always had to hit a little too hard.
"I need to get ready for our first stream, Ame! Which means... you need to go set up things on the moderator's end!"
He was deflecting. He couldn't even look her in the eyes. While it was true they needed to set up... honestly, most of it could have waited. The embarrassment of his actions, however, would not let it.
He loved her so much that it was almost inconvenient at times.
---
They always say that love is blind. When you love someone, you don't see their faults. And, it's true. I only see stars when I look at you.
Ame had to plan the train transit from their house to the house that Angel's father and sister lived in. Of course, on paper, it wasn't that different of a task. In fact, Ame found it was much easier than she ever would have imagined. No need to switch lines, board multiple trains, or switch train stations completely. It was simply taking one train and riding with it for 2 and a half hours. She wasn't good with directions, of course, directions were always Angel's strong suit... she usually would get distracted, or even worse, lost.
She held a small notepad in her hands, a sparkly, purple glitter pen in her fingers. She peeked her head into the streaming room, her fingers lightly gripping the notepad. They had been streaming for 23 days on and off, and Ame would admit... she wasn't the best partner for this.
She couldn't do anything right. It didn't mean everything she did was wrong, however... but she wished she were more assertive, more demanding. Strong.
Angel worried her when he was stressed out. Drugs, bloodied box cutters, lashing out on stream and off stream, getting drunk... Ame felt like there was always something new he'd overdose himself on. Maybe if she were more assertive, made sure he rested and took the proper breaks, and just took better care of him... maybe he wouldn't be so unhappy behind the scenes.
"I'm 21. You seriously think I can't handle a visit to my father's house? I mean, the transit plan is sweet, but really? I can handle this."
He was always so... frustrated. Even when he was supposed to be relaxing. She didn't understand why, he always seemed so filled with vitriol and disdain. Not hatred, he loved too much to be filled with hatred. But something different, something more than Ame knew how to help. Her eyes fell on the small piece of colorful, stamp-like pieces pinned between his fingers. She grimaced.
"Is that... what was it called again? That really strong hallucinogen that you put on your tongue."
"... It's called Magic Paper. And, yeah, it is."
"I think that's proof enough that you can't handle a visit to your father's house tomorrow. I mean, I know you don't have a good relationship with him and I won't pry into why, but you're literally getting high the night before!"
Grimacing, Ame gripped the notebook tighter. She didn't enjoy lecturing him like this, and she certainly had no right. And she didn't have enough of a backbone to force him to stop. It all scared her, truly. Every last one of them, the alcohol, the box cutter, the lashing out... they helped but they never could solve the core of the issue. But the drugs were always the worst.
Her fingers twitched again. She just wanted him to be okay. But she didn't know how. There are a million different coping mechanisms out there, and she couldn't fight against any of them when it really mattered. He lifted his fingers, gently brushing them against her lips. She pulled away slightly, they tasted faintly bitter. Raising her hand, she gently pushed his hand down.
"Live a little, Ame."
His eyes widened, a small pout forming on his face. He held out his hand, his thumb gently shifting against the slick fabric of the magic paper. She took a step back instinctively, her eyes glued to the outstretched magic paper in front of her.
"You shouldn't knock it until you try it~! You're always so righteous and acting like such a goody two shoes. Don't you get stressed out too? Why are my ways of de-stressing sooo wrong?"
Standing up, he cocked his head to the side a bit, staring at Ame. Wide-eyed, unblinking. He took a slow step forward, closer to her. It didn't matter how far she backed up, he only ever kept getting closer.
"A-Angel-"
"Do you think lesser of me when I'm like this? I don't get it. I love you. I want to treat you like a princess and get you everything your little nerdy heart could ever want because I looove you."
"Angel, stop-"
The magic paper brushed her lips, Angel's fingers gently bumping against Ame's chin. Ame's hands trembled, her back pressed against the wall, tears welling up in her eyes. He was unbearable when he was stressed. She wanted him to stop, but he was more stubborn that she was capable. She could not help him. She couldn't even help herself.
"Please? Just ooone time? I'll never ask again. I promise."
His fingers hovered at the edge of her lips, the magic paper resting just above her. Drugs were bad, he clearly had an addiction, and he was going to overdose on them. She knew he was. But she wouldn't be able to stop him. She couldn't stop him from taking them. She couldn't even stop him from offering it to her now.
"... okay okay... just... one time, okay?"
"Mhm..."
His eyes were lidded, and a droopy smile formed on his face. He... wasn't sober when she got to him, was he?
"Oookay β₯οΈ !! I love you. I looove you. I love you!"
Pushing on the edge of the magic paper, Ame grimaced. The paper felt odd on her tongue, a tingling sensation taking over her tongue and then, her whole body. It burned.
"..!"
Her vision blurred slightly, her knees buckling slightly. Colorful spots danced in her vision, a slight ringing fading into her ears. Her tongue burned slightly, her limbs weakening even further. A gasp escaped from her lips, a hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her close to his chest. Angel giggled slightly, his nails dragging along the bare skin of Ame's back, earning soft whines from her. His forehead gently bumped against hers, peppering soft kisses along her lips.
She could see something in her vision, a train station? A train station in a nowhere city. There was talking in the distance, but she could gleam anything being said. It sounded something like clicking and snapping, and ticking... and the train. It didn't make annny sound as it passed. She could feel the wind as it passed, but it passed so silently, she wondered if she had gone deaf.
There was a man in front of her, with white and brown hair, and the prettiest set of blue and pink eyes she had ever seen. There was something oddly familiar about him... Ame didn't know what. He stood at the edge of the waiting area for the train bordering. She looked around. She couldn't make out any faces besides his.
Fishes swam past her. They were giant, glowing pink fish... they reminded her of... what were they called again? Goldfish? Goldfish... She yelped slightly as one of these giant, glowing beasts swam behind her, gently nudging her forward. She fumbled forward, gripping onto her shirt shakily. He held out his hand with a familiar cheeky smile.
She felt so misplaced.
His fingers tugged her closer, a stumble backward here and a fumble backward there. The bed felt so soft underneath their bodies, it almost felt like floating on a cloud. His fingers ran against her bare skin, a deep hum emerging from his throat. His fingers gently entwined with hers, gently gripping onto her tightly.
"I looove looove you. I love you thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much β₯οΈ"
...
His head throbbed, his vision blurred. Hearts danced in the edges of his visions, and his shoulders ached. His whole body ached, actually... He felt so cold. He didn't completely know where he was. He was at home... he remembered being in their shared room, stressing out over... something... there was magic paper involved... Maybe he should cut down on the magic paper.
Looking down, his vision blurred slightly. Blurs of purple filled the edges of his vision. Purple... rubbing his eyes, he groaned. The spots in his vision didn't want to go away. Blinking slowly, he groaned again, rubbing his eyes aggressively. Maybe he could really cut down on the magic paper.
His fingers twitched, his fingers laying gently against her bare skin. Purple blur... something warm in his arms... Ame? ... huh. Burying his face in her shoulder, he grumbled. Definitely cut out the magic paper, Angel.
They both had to get up... soonish. In order to board the train and visit... his father and his new daughter. That was right... fuck.
Reaching over, his fingers tapped against the screen of his phone, he groaned. It was 4am. Still, a decent amount of time before they'd have to go out, but... he didn't know if he wanted to keep going. Of course, he promised that he would go. He'd be an asshole if he didn't, and even he had standards.
His hair curled against the pillow, mumbling softly. Closing his eyes gently, he whined softly. Everything hurt. Everything ached. He loved her, he loved her, he looooooved her so much it felt unbearable. His fingers twitched again, pulling Ame's sleeping form closer to his chest. He owed her so many apologies.
...
When he opened his eyes again, it was a little later in the morning... 10am. And, he was feeling... a little better. But, still... he wasn't feeling 100 percent.
Angel groaned as he sat up in the bed, running his hand through his hair with a yawn. Ame had run off into the bathroom to take a shower and get changed. The sound of the shower running trickled softly against his ears, it sounded nice. His eyes fluttered in unison in response to the sound, he really could fall asleep just listening to it...
"Angel?"
Feeling a hand gently against his shoulder, Angel groaned. His body slumped back in response, sinking into the soft mattress. Ame paused, sighing as she leaned over. Placing her hands on his arms, Ame attempted to pull him up from the bed. However, Ame was not that strong.
"Angel, you have to get ready."
"Five more minutes..."
"I've been trying to get you up for the past five minutes!"
He felt a little bad... but, not really. It was kind of entertaining, watching her work for it. But alas... he did have to get dressed so they could travel.
Groaning, Angel sat up, rubbing his hand through his hair. Gently, reaching over, his hands cupped around Ame's face. Her face felt so soft and warm in his hands...
"Fine. I'm gonna go... take a shoooower."
And hopefully not fall over and split his head open in the process. But, if he did... he wouldn't have to visit his father. But, he wouldn't be able to stream either, so they wouldn't be making any money either... damn.
Struggling to get off the bed, Angel stumbled slightly. The high had almost completely worn off by now, but he still felt a littttle tipped off. Pushing the door to the bathroom open, he grumbled, yawning again. His fingers ran along the cold metallic lever for the shower, lightly pushing it to the side. The shower started up with an almost hypnotic whirl, the falling water sounding like heaven to his ears. He reached out, feeling the water against his hands. It felt nice and warm, perfect for a nice morning shower.
...
The shower was definitely nice... and well-needed. Running through his hair with a towel, Angel hummed. Leaning over his dresser, he rummaged through his clothes, his eyes falling on a light blue short-sleeved button-up shirt and a dull blue pair of high-waisted pants. This... this would be a cute but simple outfit. Opening another drawer, he fished out a soft white, high-collar with a nice black bow, and a pair of clip-on suspenders, as well as a nice pair of white socks. Then, tapping his fingers on his lips, he hummed. Accessories... running his fingers lightly along the jewelry lazy Susan. His eyes fell on a pair of cloud-shaped sunglasses and a silver wristwatch. Those... those would look nice with everything...
Humming as he buttoned up his shirt, smoothing down the crinkles. Stretching with a yawn, Angel grumbled. Okay... it was now or never. He just needs to get through the day and he'll be fine... probably. Ame stood at the doorway, holding a small purse in her arms, as well as a rolled-up map.
...
The last time they rode a train together like this was the night they met one another for the very first time. Leaning back as he settled down in his seat, he tilted his head slightly. The train felt rather empty for a train going to a popular, well-known city. A city that homed some of the most powerful sorcerers in the entire world. Not that he was complaining... he loved the fact he and Ame were able to snag a seat, especially for a train ride as long as this one.
You probably wonder what I meant by that. Home of the world's most powerful sorcerers... Well, this train is headed to the heart of Tokyo, and we lived in a dead town 2 and a half hours away from it. I grew up here, actually. Glancing out of the window, Angel frowned. He hadn't come back to Tokyo in years... he couldn't afford to live there on his own, of course. And the curses that lived in the city made it dangerous for a normal person like him. Especially when every curse in that stupid city wanted him dead. But, he left. He left and he never looked back.
Until today, that was. Pulling out a small, hand-held tablet, Angel sat up. It was just a small tablet he used for stream planning, but, he figured it would make a good companion on the go. Doodling on the notes app for that one stream he did a few nights back turned out to be more fun than he initially thought. Leaning to the side, Angel pondered. Drawing... he wondered what there was he could draw. His eyes wandered slightly to the girl sitting next to him, so intently trained on the book she had brought for the long trip. She looked so pretty sitting there... so nerdy and blissfully unaware.
She had tried on a different outfit today, one different from her usual white t-shirt and purple coat and pants. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and the purple sweater vest she wore on top of a white collared shirt looked so pretty on her, he swore it was glistening in the passing sunlight. And the dark pants she wore, matched it very well. Purple had always been such a pretty color on her...
... he doesn't quite know where the time went. He hadn't been doodling her that long, he believed. Maybe just for a few minutes... but there they were, at the end of their line.
"Ame, we're here."
It took a moment of tapping and leading her off the train, but, they were off, and deep in the heart of Tokyo city... he despised no place more. Pulling out his phone, he looked up the address from the messages between him and this girl. Her name was Myriad. Interesting name, he thought to himself.
It was a decent walk from the train station, fifteen minutes or so... he nodded affirmatively. It was a simple and straightforward route with a few twists and a few turns the closer they got, but... he could do it. (Maybe he could feign getting lost on the way, but, Ame might call him out for it. Maybe it'd be for the best he didn't dillydally.)
"So, your dad lives here? It's a nice little neighborhood."
"Apparently."
Glancing around, he felt... nervous. He felt like he was going to be sick. Did this really have to be a canon event? Really? Seriously? There were several kids in the neighborhood, playing on their lawns, teenagers doing dances in the streets, grownups playing basketball on the court...
Slowly, they came to a stop in front of a well-maintained rather large two-story house. There were decorations on the lawn, a nice set of flora all over the lawn, a cute stepping stone path... a wooden porch, a wooden rocking chair... and an older, white-haired blue-eyed man sitting in it.
"... Oh. Apparently, he really does live here."
"... he really does look like you. Like... to a t."
Ame looked back and forth between Angel and the man in the chair. They both had the same white hair and blue eyes, fair skin... they were even both wearing sunglasses. It was uncanny for a son who hadn't seen his father in nearly 6 years.
"Angel! You're actually here!"
The voice was unfamiliar to his ears... and so was the face. A young girl skipped out of the open front door, holding an ice cream cone in her hand. The girl was short, with long brownish-red hair, and pinkish eyes, wearing a nice yellow sundress and a beige sunhat.
"You're... Myriad, right? And... dad. Uh... hi?"
"... is Angel what you go by now?"
"Uh, yeah. It is."
Skipping down the stairs, Myriad nodded with a smile. She giggled, holding out her hand towards Angel. Angel paused, then, taking her hand, he smiled back.
"I'm Myriad! It's nice to meet you."
"... Yeah. Likewise."
...
He never grew up with siblings... or a present parent for that matter. And he didn't have friends either... sometimes it was painful to remember that fact. But... not as painful as the fact his father somehow burnt their dinner, and they had to go out to a sushi restaurant instead.
"Seriously, how do you burn water, Dad?"
"Hey hey. Not too much on me."
Reaching over, Angel picked up a piece of sushi from the conveyor belt, gently pinching it between his chopsticks, an unimpressed expression on his face. Taking the sushi, he turned slightly towards Ame, holding it out towards her.
"This one is a California roll. Not sure why they call it that."
"Was it made in California?"
Laughter erupted from his throat, and his hands shook, nearly dropping the sushi roll. He couldn't help himself. There was something so sweet and endearing about her, even as she asked stupid questions. There's something so... intoxicating about her. He couldn't exactly put his fingers on what it was, however.
---
They always say that love is blind. When you love someone, you don't see their faults. You're lost in the clouds high above any reach of common sense, a high so powerful it is unmatched by any drug. True, unadulterated bliss.
His fingers were shaking a little bit as he held a small bouquet of sunflowers in his hands, wrapped in a pretty glistening blue bow. She had worked so many miracles in his life, brought him back to a place he never thought he could, she'd helped him grow more as a person than he ever could alone.
Sunflowers always face towards the sun, bright and warm. They were a pretty flower, simple and pure. And, they were Ame's favorite flower. He didn't know how to take care of sunflowers. He spent a lot of time googling it, looking it up, he even asked the woman from the flower shop how to care for them.
When they were successful and rich, Angel wanted to buy a decent-sized house with a beautiful front lawn. He wanted to line that lawn with sunflowers and watch them grow. He wanted to put up little picket fences and create a stone walkway. Ame loved the look of it in all those magazines she strung up on her office wall... And he loved how angelic she looked when she was happy.
But, this would have to do for now... sunflowers are still sunflowers, right?
Stepping through the door to their apartment, Angel looked around. The apartment was littered with the wrappings of the many gifts he had bought for her over the months they had been streaming together. Small gifts, like a new mini bookshelf for her books, or a puzzle she had been eyeing... chocolates, sweets, foods... anything she wanted she got and more.
His feet clicked against the floor, a soft thud as he traveled through the small apartment, stopping in front of the bedroom door. Hesitating in front of the door, Angel listened quietly, before raising his hand and knocking gently on the door.
"Ame? Can I come in?"
There was a moment of silence for a long while, and quietly, Angel pushed down on the doorknob. He carefully pushed the door open with his arm, sticking his head inside the room. His eyes scanned the room before eventually falling on the sleeping figure in the bed. Well... that explains why she didn't answer the door.
Taking a step into the room, Angel paused. His eyes fell on the sunflowers on his arms. Then, chuckling, he made his way over to the bedside drawer, placing the flowers on the dresser's surface. She could have them as a surprise when she woke up.
His fingers twitched as he reached over, gently brushing against her bangs as he leaned over. She really was so pretty, no matter what she was doing... planting a kiss against her forehead, he smiled softly.
"I love you."
Ground control to psychoeletric angel, do you copy?
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ENDING ? - GROUND CONTROL TO PSYCHOELECTRIC ANGEL β₯οΈ
>> Try Again? > Yes!! > No!!
#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ reblog ]#[ reblogging this just in case you havenβt seen or read itβ¦ teehee. ]
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Ground Control to Psychoelectric Angel - Earning Internet Angel Wings β
This story will contain the following themes, as well as a heavy emphasis on more adult themes and humors, including a portrayal of a romantic/intimate relationship between Angel and Ame.
content warning for: [ inspired by Needy Streamer Overload and the Ground Control to Psychoelectric Angel Ending ] [ heavy themes of love bombing, themes of affection and desire, brief mentions of self-harm/self-neglect, mention of taking drugs/coercing someone into taking drugs, brief mentions of childhood neglect, partial themes of memory loss/amnesia, and things of the like. ]

Even if we're on different wavelengths, I know you'll still understand me, and that's what I love about you.
There was always some kind of saying about love. I don't actually remember what it was, something stupid most likely.
Rain.
Angel wouldn't lie, he loved the rain... when it was pouring outside and he wasn't stuck walking in it. Sighing slowly, he pulled out his umbrella. Opening it slowly, he groaned.
He hated working at the convenience store so badly. The pay was so bad, the customers were abysmal at best, gross at worst, and the manager was just awful. And he was always stuck with the closing shift. While he knew this place wasn't overly dangerous, walking home in the dark was still... frightening. Taking the train alone at night already sucked, but having to travel in the rain and the fog?
Looking around as he stepped out into the rain, he sighed again. The rain was so dreary and heavy, it was... depressing. His shoes weren't made for the rain, but, rain shoes weren't made for work either... Maybe he'd have to start bringing rain shoes to work. That would be very... annoying. But, at least his feet wouldn't be so soaked next time. His shoes clicked against the ground, and light thuds of rain jumped from puddle to puddle as he walked. The sound of cars running down the street constantly filled his ears, the sound of the rain against the cars' roofs and against the stores' roofs. It was almost tranquil... if it wasn't for the splashing of water from rushing cars and drunken bystanders stumbling around and into him.
Grimacing as a man drunkenly fumbled into him, Angel huffed. This was hellish. Placing one hand on the man's shoulder, he lightly directed the man in an opposing direction. He could tell the man was drunk beyond belief, but he didn't want this man to become a big problem. He simply didn't have the desire to deal with unnecessary issues like that.
His father would tell him to have more "sympathy" in a situation like this. He wondered where that sympathy was for him during all those empty nights.
...
He didn't realize how far he strayed, leading the stumbling drunken man away from the busy street. Looking around, Angel paused a moment. He couldn't tell if it was due to the heavy rain limiting his vision, but, he was unable to identify any landmarks or anchor points. He felt... a little lost.
Just his luck.
His head turned from side to side slowly, grumbling as he down the several alleyways. In the distance, he could vaguely make out the shape of a tent and a figure, sitting out in the heavy rain. Most likely a homeless person... he was there once. It wasn't fun.
Taking a deep breath, he grimaced. He didn't own a phone, hell, he couldn't afford a phone. He only had two options. Try to find his own way back... or ask the homeless person in front of him. Neither option seemed particularly appealing.
Grumbling to himself, he hesitantly moved forward, towards the person ahead of him. His heels clicked in the heavy rain, slowly coming to a stop before the log the person sat on.
"Excuse me?"
His voice felt a little hoarse coming out of his throat like that. It sounded a little strained... a little weak. It hurt to hear himself like that.
But it did its job of garnering the attention of the homeless person in front of him. A young woman, wearing a cloth cloak, with thick, long purple hair glanced at him, ever so slightly. Nothing more than a side glance... he couldn't blame her.
"Do I know you?"
"... I don't think I do."
Angel's hand hovered over his chest slightly, and he could have sworn the woman's disappointment hung in the air. It felt so heavy... There was a moment of sadness on the girl's face, and then, she sighed, leaning her head to the side ever so slightly.
"You're lost too, aren't you?"
Angel grimaced to himself. Was it really that obvious? Biting his tongue, he nodded in response. The girl hummed slightly, nodding back.
"I was wondering if you knew how to get to the train station...? I can figure the rest out from there, but..."
The girl craned her head to the side, looking at the ground solemnly. Her eyes focused on the ground as if she were averting Angel's gaze.
"I... have memory issues. Even if I knew, I've probably forgotten by now. I don't even know my own name. It's a little sad."
Angel paused a moment, grimacing. He... felt a little bad. But he didn't ask for a sob story either. Grumbling, he took a step forward, haphazardly holding the umbrella out slightly. In doing so, the rain falling on the girl lessened. It wasn't a perfect fix, of course, he didn't know how long it had been raining on the poor thing... but something was better than nothing.
"Then, mind helping me find it? I'll buy you some food for the trouble."
It wasn't the perfect solution, of course. He barely knew the chick, and he barely knew the area either. Hell, buying her food for this one favor might put himself out of a meal. But, he knew one thing. Creeps would be less likely to try anything if they thought he was with someone. And...
He really didn't care.
He could survive with one less meal. He's done it before. He can do it again. Pausing, the girl seemed to... hesitate a moment. Standing up straight, she looked at the man a second time, then, diverted her gaze once more.
"Food. I like the way you make deals."
"... My name's Angel."
It wasn't really, but, he hated his real name. Both his first name... and his last. The girl was silent a moment, and then she reached out, hesitantly grasping ahold of the outstretched umbrella. Tilting his head slightly, he found her hand... a little odd. She wore five metallic claw coverings, one covering each finger. They were all unique with interesting markings, yet, they didn't seem to hinder her movement even slightly.
"... the name Ame means rain, right?"
"... it does. It also means candy, I think."
"I like that. Can you call me Ame?"
Pausing a moment, Angel nodded slowly. Ame... it was a nice name. But, naming yourself after the rain sounded... a little depressing. But, he wouldn't knock her for it.
...
Ame didn't talk much. Angel wasn't expecting her to, but, still. A little effort would have been nice. The silence weighed down so heavily... Angel thought it was going to crush him.
"... your memories."
It blurted out suddenly, like an unprepared confession to your middle school crush.
"My memories?"
His mind felt like it was going to explode. He turned towards Ame, his soaking off-white hair clinging to his face like a leech. He swore, every time he tried to wipe it out of his face, it would just frizz up and get back in the way.
"Yeah. You uh, you mentioned that you have memory issues back in the alleyway."
"... did I?"
... he groaned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Was it really that poor? He almost felt a little bad. Keyword: almost.
"It's... true. My memory is quite poor..."
Glancing away, Ame's gaze fell on a nearby bookstore. Her pace slowed down a little until the two ground to a complete halt. The wind chill was particularly bad that day, he felt like he was going to shatter into tiny, angel-sized pieces if they stopped too suddenly. He wondered how she seemed so unbothered by it.
"I can't remember anything. My family, my hometown, my friends if I had any... I don't even remember my name. I am... old, but not too old I think."
"Old, but not too old, huh? I'm 17 years old."
"I think the old woman I met last... it was something about becoming a... "real adult"? I don't... uhm... you know?"
"... A real adult would be an 18-year-old. And, y'know I think I kind of get the point."
"I would say it's been this way as long as I can remember... but then it becomes a little ironic. What is this place?"
Her gaze fixated on the bookstore in front of her, never wavering. Angel paused, then, hesitantly, he pointed up, towards the sign of the shop.
"It's a bookstore. They sell books and magazines in there. Some of them even sell toys and figurines, or disks and DVDs."
"It looks magical in there."
Turning towards Angel, her lips pursed a little, as if a question perched itself on the edge of her lips. A question he wasn't sure if she even remembered wanting to ask.
"... did you want to go inside?"
He wasn't... completely sure why he asked if he was being honest. He wanted nothing more than to find the train station and go back to his home. He wanted nothing more than to change out of these damn clothes that clung to his back, to heat up his day-old leftovers, eat, and smoke until he couldn't feel anything anymore. It was the only thing capable of soothing this mind-numbing pain that knawed at his skin day by dreadful day. Yet... she seemed so curious. He couldn't help but wonder, he thought to himself.
Ame nodded slowly, seeming... almost a little hesitant. He had never seen her smile, he thought to himself. Taking the umbrella from Ame's hand, he closed it, gently shaking off any excess rain before taking a step forward. Holding his umbrella, he carefully placed in it one of the provided "rain bags", ensuring the water from his umbrella wouldn't get everywhere in the shop. Then, turning to Ame, he grimaced. Her cloak... was soaked. Hesitantly, he reached over towards Ame, his hand scrapping against her face lightly as he pulled the hood back.
He didn't realize how pretty she was without it. Her eyes were such a pretty purple color, and there were snow-like freckles dotting her skin that he hadn't noticed before.
"... You have to take off your cloak before you can go inside though. We can put it inside one of these free rain bags. You can... borrow my raincoat. It might be a little big though."
Pointing toward the rain bags with his other hand, Angel paused. Ame glanced at his hand for a moment before nodding. She wasn't wearing much underneath the cloak, he realized. But what she did have on underneath the cloak was relatively dry... they could work with that, he supposed. Carefully, he took off the light blue raincoat he wore, holding it out towards her. It's a shame. That coat kept him somewhat warm.
"Here. Put it on. You look sleazy."
Pushing the door open with his arm, he motioned to Ame to follow him inside the bookstore. It felt something akin to bringing a child into a candy store. He didn't think someone could be so... amazed by something so simple.
Yet, she always seemed to find something new. And asking new questions. Just when he thought he finally ironed out the last one, like a kid in a candy store, she had a new one.
"What's "entomology"?" "Study of bugs." "Oh... ooo."
"It Ends With Us...? Who is us?" "... the people in the book?? I guess."
"What's astrology?" "Stuff about the stars. And star signs." "Star signs???"
Eventually, she settled down, seeming satisfied with the answers to her many... many questions. It felt like an eternity in there (it was only 10 minutes, though.) before Ame walked close to Angel, holding a small book in her hands. Hesitantly, she held it out towards him.
"... what's this?"
"It's a book about... space. And planets. And it's only 500 yen."
500 yen? That was... quite a normal price for a short book like that. He sighed a bit, crossing his arms as he held the book in his hand. His brows furrowed slightly as he eyed the book, then, grimacing, he scoffed as he reached into his pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he opened it up with another grimace frown. He really didn't have the spending money to be doing this.
He didn't know why, but this girl's unadulterated excitement for simple leisure had him so... smitten. He remembers a time when he was excited about his first book too, he supposed.
"Here. Go get it, it won't get any cheaper."
It would get cheaper, he thought, as he handed her a 500 yen coin. It would get cheaper. But she might not be around still when it finally does. An expression of shock flashed on Ame's face, and then, a soft smile replaced it. ... She looked really pretty when she smiled.
"Yay! Thank you... Angel?"
"Oh, hey. You remembered my name."
...
The rain seemed to have let up while they were busy accidentally shopping. How quaint. It hadn't let up completely, but the rain wasn't nearly as heavy anymore.
Looking around, Angel tilted his head. Then, as if on cue, Ame pointed toward the train station in the distance.
"Is that the train station you were looking for, Angel?"
"It was. You're so observant."
He noticed it way before she had. It was nice to see she didn't lose track of their literal one and only objective, he thought. Food... he did promise her that much. She was a good travel partner. He briefly wondered if they could be more. He didn't know why. Shaking his head, he wanted to launch that thought out of there. Why was he thinking about that? He wasn't that lonely.
Right?
"Do you have a favorite thing to eat?"
"... You're still buying me food?"
She sounded surprised by his question, taken a little aback. Angel turned and shrugged. His hair curled against his shoulders, bouncing lightly in the wind.
"I promised you. You help me find it, I'll buy you food from it. There's a 7-11 inside, I can buy you some chicken or some bread. Whatever you want."
Holding out his hand gently, Ame paused. Hesitantly, she reached out, a shaky hand hovering about his, never touching down. Sighing, Angel reached up, grabbing onto her hand, and tugging her closer.
"Come on! You can just jump the bar."
"H-Hey, wait-"
---
There was always some kind of saying about love. I think it was something about being blind?
He hummed softly as he picked up a book off the massive bookshelf. Ame's curiosity never did die out. She used to have to beg with him, to plead for him to buy her "just one more book". It was never just one book... but she was always so endearing about it. Even now and again, he finds her clinging to his arm whenever they walk past a bookstore.
Running his fingers lightly over the cover, he cocked his head to the side. His eyes felt on the silver lettering on the cover.
"Space and Planets... Wasn't this the book I bought for Ame when we first met?"
His fingers slid across the cover, gently hooking around it, and then, tugging lightly, the cover flipped over, a flurry of pages dancing in the wind. The pages were all covered in sticky notes, hand-written notes all over the book, stuck to every page.
... so that was where all his sticky notes disappeared off to. A rainy day on a closing shift and one book has opened the path to so much more... He almost missed it, a bit. Well, he didn't miss most of it. He didn't miss the grueling work schedule or the nasty customers, nor did he miss the drunken trash crowding the streets. He didn't miss the commutes, or the traveling, the pay was abysmal, the manager was certainly a piece of work, and he just... okay, correction. He didn't miss anything about the life he was about to leave behind. He just felt oddly melancholic now that it was all over.
Closing the book with a soft 'thud', Angel smiled gently. He knew most of Ame's books would have to go into storage, with the new streaming setup incoming, he simply didn't have the space for it all to fit... but it wouldn't hurt to keep the one, he thought to himself. And... it wouldn't hurt to see what all Ame had collected from him over the years either.
Entomology... the study of bugs. He hated bugs with a passion, creepy crawling creatures gave him the shudders. They were all the same, and they all needed to stay outside. They keep in their homes, and he'll stay in his own. There would be no issues. Ame didn't seem to care much for it beyond the first read, he noted. She wasn't too keen for a reread. She reread books a lot.
It Ends With Us was atrocious. He regretted spending money on it. It presented its topics horribly, without grace or tact. It led to an awkward talk with Ame, like explaining the birds and the bees to a child. He should burn it.
Astrology... Ame made him buy a couple books about it. She seemed to enjoy the topic a lot. Ame showed an interest in all things space and the stars... it was like a one-way trip on The Galatic Express. Star signs were a particular favorite of Ame's, she had four books on just those alone... she made learning new things look so hot he was kind of mad. Book nerds shouldn't be allowed to be hot. That should be illegal.
Tilting the cover of the book in his hand, he chuckled. Tossing the book into the cardboard box and shifting back on one foot, Angel tilted his head. Glancing over the now empty space, he tapped his chin softly. The first computer monitor could go over there... and the second monitor could go over there... he bought one of those rainbow keyboards-
A gentle knock on the door snapped Angel out of a planner's daze. Glancing over, his eyes fluttered slightly, falling on the young woman, standing in the doorway. Her messy purple hair was pulled back into a weak bun, and she wore a gorgeous deep purple silk robe gown and an oversized white cotton shirt. He briefly wondered what she'd look like wearing less.
"I finished packing up everything in the bedroom, Angel... I'm tired though. Moving the boxes to the living room has me exhausted..."
Chuckling softly, he leaned closer to Ame, his fingers lightly clinging along the silk ribbon tied around her waist. Tugging along the ribbon lightly, he wanted nothing more than to pull it off of her and watch it fall. But in that moment, she felt so far away. His fingers entwined themselves between the layers of ribbon, lightly locking around the silk fabric before gently tugging the woman towards him. Ame yelped in response, fumbling slightly as her foot took a step forward. Her hands lightly bumped against Angelβs chest, hovering against his shoulders.
βYouβre like a war machine. So deadly and silent, yet so effective~ I just finished up with the spare books in this room, I still have so much I need to do to get this room fully set upβ¦β
Ame paused a moment, then, with furrowed brows, she shook her head firmly. Gently, she slammed her hands against his shoulder, letting them rest there as she spoke.
βBut youβve been working and building things all day. You deserve to have a break too! Come and take a quick nap with meβ¦ You tend to be a jackass when you're tired. Well, you're a jackass all the time, it just gets worse when you're tired.β
"Wooooooow."
Rolling his eyes in response, Angel debated shoving her away by her little silk waist. Maybe she'd trip over the box and fall. But... that would only be proving her point though. Damn. Sighing, he paused. Her pout was so... annoyingly cute. The ribbon slipped through his fingers as he lifted his hand. Lightly sliding his fingers through her hair, Angel leaned closer to the pouting girl's face. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid pout off of her stupid pretty little face.
...
Her lips felt a lot softer than he initially imagined. He was never quite aware of it until that very moment. His fingers twitched slightly, a small tug, a weak embrace. Dragging his nails along Ame's bare skin, he pulled away slightly, the air feeling so cool on their lips. Part of him craved more... he wasn't sure why.
"... na, I'm not tired! Maybe after all the technicals are set up."
"ANGEL..."
Snickering slightly, Angel's hands rested on Ame's shoulders lightly. Her face was dusted pink, although, he barely saw it. Covering her face in her sleeves, she stumbled out of the room, cursing his name the entire way out. Rubbing his hand through his hair, he chuckled again. Worth it.
...
Yawning, Angel set down the screwdriver. His eyes fluttered, his vision blurring slightly, fatigue really was a whole different kind of beast. Closing his eyes a moment, he groaned. He couldn't fall asleep, not yet. Yawning again, his fingers entwined within themselves as he moved his arms, stretching dreary limbs.
Shaking his head, Angel rubbed his face in annoyance. Building furniture sucked. Moving boxes sucked. Packing up items they had no use for sucked. Moving the boxes from the house into the car sucked. He didn't have money, he couldn't afford any treats, everything just sucked. And those boxes? Having to move them into storage all on his lonesome? Oh hoo hoooo, don't get me started, I will be here alllll day. It just... sucked.
Shifting onto his back, Angel groaned. He lay, sprawled out on the floor in a (quite pathetic) tired display of desperation. He didn't want to get up and disturb his sleeping beauty in bed, but he was truly dead tired. His fingers lingered on his lips, a small mumble escaping from his mouth. He felt... well, he didn't feel guilty persay. He enjoyed it, he enjoyed it a lot. She tasted like cherry sweets, it was such a sweet taste on his lips. Part of him craved more.
... and the other part of him felt bad.
Mumbling, he shifted onto his side. Running his hand through his hair, he grumbled. Maybe taking a nap on the floor wouldn't be so bad. He could set up his streaming set up when he woke up again. He wouldn't have to go very far, at least. Arugh... no, he couldn't do that... For starters, that'd be painful when he woke up, he'd probably be cold, his neck would certainly ache, and he didn't want to think more about it whatsoever. Groaning, he reluctantly sat up, dragging shaky nails through his hair.
Sighing, he grumbled again. Standing up shakily, he mumbled. Stumbling through the dark apartment, Angel gritted his teeth. His fingers laid on the doorway, the dim lighting from the outside room lighting up the room slightly. The light made her look so heavenly, even if she was simply swallowed up by the several colorful blankets in their shared bed. Taking a step forward, Angel yawned again. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he yawned again. The bed caved slightly underneath his weight, causing sleepy protests to slip from Ame's lips. Leaning back, he sank into the soft fabric of the bed, yawning again.
Yeah, this was definitely more comfortable than sleeping on the floor, by a mile.
His hair curled against the pillow, his fingers twitching against his bare skin. His eyes fell on Ame's sleeping figure, watching as she gently tossed and turned in her sleep, before settling on her side, her fingers lightly gripping onto his arm. Her head laid against his shoulder, her hair tied back, laid neatly behind her on the bed. She looked so peaceful in her slumber... he swore she was glistening almost.
"... it pisses me off how pretty you are sometimes."
It also pissed him off how fast he had fallen asleep afterward. Oh, she would have reveled in being right.
...
His head felt as if someone just rammed into him with a truck. His eyes fell on the slightly ajar door, the golden light peering through the cracks. Had he slept through the night, he wondered. Glancing over, Ame appeared to have gotten closer to him while he was asleep, now with her head lying against his chest, her hand resting underneath his shirt. Her fingers twitched slightly, and another set of protests slipped through sleepy lips, although he wasn't quite what it was she was protesting against.
Rubbing his head, he groaned. He still had a myriad of things he had to complete before he could even start his streaming career. But, he couldn't really do that while Ame slept on top of him... and she fell asleep before him. It must be so difficult being a pretty princess.
Let's see... he had already packed and taken all the boxes into the rented space, cleaned and dusted the area, and put up the pretty blackout curtains, as well as the special decorations they had bought to decorate the streaming space, and he built all the furniture they had bought. However... he still had to set up the computers, keyboards, and speakers, as well as try on the streaming outfits he bought and make the necessary alterations, try on all the makeup products...
But... it wouldn't kill him to rest a little longer.
---
"You got an email, Angel. It's about... rent."
.. Rent. That certainly was an issue he had to worry about, huh? Sitting down on the couch next to her, he slid his arm around her shoulder, leaning close. His eyes scanned the email, a frown creasing his face. Rent... if he couldn't get 10,000 followers, they'd be homeless.
"What are we going to do if we can't make money for rent in time..?"
His brows furrowed further, and disappointment edged in his voice. If he couldn't do it, they'd be homeless. He knew how unforgiving it was to be homeless, and to bring someone else out of it through your own efforts, only to be the reason they fall back into it? The thought made him nervous.
"I mean... I guess I could go back to living with my dad if it doesn't work out... But I'd really rather not go back to living with a man who was never around if I can help it."
Reaching out, his fingers brushed against her hair. His thumb lingered against her cheek, a look of bewilderment settling in on her face. He was homeless once himself, a long time ago. He had run away from home. His father hadn't even noticed. And he never came looking for him. There was no food in that house anyway. No food, no clean clothes, dirty dishes everywhere, rats in the walls, cut off electricity. He knew his father was doing better now, he even adopted a little orphan girl! Wow. He totally didn't feel any negative emotion towards that situation at all!
Totally.
"Aaaactually I'd rather die. Nevermind. We're gonna make rent, darling! We have to."
Leaning in, he gently and quickly pressed his lips against Ame's cheek, pinching her face with a chuckle. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to give her a good house and a fair shot at life. He wants to be able to spoil her and shower her in gifts.
More than anything... he just wanted her to stay in his life. Even if she is just a nerd with a pretty face. Deep down, he knew it was something more. I just don't want to admit it.
"... Angel..."
Ame's fingers twitched slightly, hovering over her chest with an expression of worry. Angel never seemed to enjoy talking about his family. If anything... it always seemed to make him angry. She wondered what happened in his childhood that made him so angry.
...
Angel paused a moment, glancing down as he tilted his head. Ame's face lay lightly against his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist lightly. It was such a light and gentle hug... leaning over slightly, his fingers gently brushing against her skin, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. He nuzzled her forehead with his own, a gentle smile crossing his face. He adored her, so so much.
"I'm okay. I swear."
"Are you sure..?"
"I am... and, we're going to make rent. And we're going to make a loooot of money. And we're going to live like kings and queens... because I am your favorite internet streamer."
Running his thumb along Ame's face, it briefly brushed against her lips. Lingering a moment, his mind wandered. To live like kings and queens... meant to live at the top, to be the best of the best. To eat the food they wanted to, to buy the clothes they wanted to buy, to purchase the house they wanted, to travel where their hearts desired, to love, lust, and desire as they pleased... he wondered if he was promising too much. He'd love to make her his queen... but he didn't want to overpromise, or underdeliver...
Heat flushed in his cheeks, a small grumble surfacing in his throat. His fingers froze up, twitching slightly where they lay. Oh, the things he'd do if he could just be shameless. Unfortunately, embarrassment was something that always had to hit a little too hard.
"I need to get ready for our first stream, Ame! Which means... you need to go set up things on the moderator's end!"
He was deflecting. He couldn't even look her in the eyes. While it was true they needed to set up... honestly, most of it could have waited. The embarrassment of his actions, however, would not let it.
He loved her so much that it was almost inconvenient at times.
---
They always say that love is blind. When you love someone, you don't see their faults. And, it's true. I only see stars when I look at you.
Ame had to plan the train transit from their house to the house that Angel's father and sister lived in. Of course, on paper, it wasn't that different of a task. In fact, Ame found it was much easier than she ever would have imagined. No need to switch lines, board multiple trains, or switch train stations completely. It was simply taking one train and riding with it for 2 and a half hours. She wasn't good with directions, of course, directions were always Angel's strong suit... she usually would get distracted, or even worse, lost.
She held a small notepad in her hands, a sparkly, purple glitter pen in her fingers. She peeked her head into the streaming room, her fingers lightly gripping the notepad. They had been streaming for 23 days on and off, and Ame would admit... she wasn't the best partner for this.
She couldn't do anything right. It didn't mean everything she did was wrong, however... but she wished she were more assertive, more demanding. Strong.
Angel worried her when he was stressed out. Drugs, bloodied box cutters, lashing out on stream and off stream, getting drunk... Ame felt like there was always something new he'd overdose himself on. Maybe if she were more assertive, made sure he rested and took the proper breaks, and just took better care of him... maybe he wouldn't be so unhappy behind the scenes.
"I'm 21. You seriously think I can't handle a visit to my father's house? I mean, the transit plan is sweet, but really? I can handle this."
He was always so... frustrated. Even when he was supposed to be relaxing. She didn't understand why, he always seemed so filled with vitriol and disdain. Not hatred, he loved too much to be filled with hatred. But something different, something more than Ame knew how to help. Her eyes fell on the small piece of colorful, stamp-like pieces pinned between his fingers. She grimaced.
"Is that... what was it called again? That really strong hallucinogen that you put on your tongue."
"... It's called Magic Paper. And, yeah, it is."
"I think that's proof enough that you can't handle a visit to your father's house tomorrow. I mean, I know you don't have a good relationship with him and I won't pry into why, but you're literally getting high the night before!"
Grimacing, Ame gripped the notebook tighter. She didn't enjoy lecturing him like this, and she certainly had no right. And she didn't have enough of a backbone to force him to stop. It all scared her, truly. Every last one of them, the alcohol, the box cutter, the lashing out... they helped but they never could solve the core of the issue. But the drugs were always the worst.
Her fingers twitched again. She just wanted him to be okay. But she didn't know how. There are a million different coping mechanisms out there, and she couldn't fight against any of them when it really mattered. He lifted his fingers, gently brushing them against her lips. She pulled away slightly, they tasted faintly bitter. Raising her hand, she gently pushed his hand down.
"Live a little, Ame."
His eyes widened, a small pout forming on his face. He held out his hand, his thumb gently shifting against the slick fabric of the magic paper. She took a step back instinctively, her eyes glued to the outstretched magic paper in front of her.
"You shouldn't knock it until you try it~! You're always so righteous and acting like such a goody two shoes. Don't you get stressed out too? Why are my ways of de-stressing sooo wrong?"
Standing up, he cocked his head to the side a bit, staring at Ame. Wide-eyed, unblinking. He took a slow step forward, closer to her. It didn't matter how far she backed up, he only ever kept getting closer.
"A-Angel-"
"Do you think lesser of me when I'm like this? I don't get it. I love you. I want to treat you like a princess and get you everything your little nerdy heart could ever want because I looove you."
"Angel, stop-"
The magic paper brushed her lips, Angel's fingers gently bumping against Ame's chin. Ame's hands trembled, her back pressed against the wall, tears welling up in her eyes. He was unbearable when he was stressed. She wanted him to stop, but he was more stubborn that she was capable. She could not help him. She couldn't even help herself.
"Please? Just ooone time? I'll never ask again. I promise."
His fingers hovered at the edge of her lips, the magic paper resting just above her. Drugs were bad, he clearly had an addiction, and he was going to overdose on them. She knew he was. But she wouldn't be able to stop him. She couldn't stop him from taking them. She couldn't even stop him from offering it to her now.
"... okay okay... just... one time, okay?"
"Mhm..."
His eyes were lidded, and a droopy smile formed on his face. He... wasn't sober when she got to him, was he?
"Oookay β₯οΈ !! I love you. I looove you. I love you!"
Pushing on the edge of the magic paper, Ame grimaced. The paper felt odd on her tongue, a tingling sensation taking over her tongue and then, her whole body. It burned.
"..!"
Her vision blurred slightly, her knees buckling slightly. Colorful spots danced in her vision, a slight ringing fading into her ears. Her tongue burned slightly, her limbs weakening even further. A gasp escaped from her lips, a hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her close to his chest. Angel giggled slightly, his nails dragging along the bare skin of Ame's back, earning soft whines from her. His forehead gently bumped against hers, peppering soft kisses along her lips.
She could see something in her vision, a train station? A train station in a nowhere city. There was talking in the distance, but she could gleam anything being said. It sounded something like clicking and snapping, and ticking... and the train. It didn't make annny sound as it passed. She could feel the wind as it passed, but it passed so silently, she wondered if she had gone deaf.
There was a man in front of her, with white and brown hair, and the prettiest set of blue and pink eyes she had ever seen. There was something oddly familiar about him... Ame didn't know what. He stood at the edge of the waiting area for the train bordering. She looked around. She couldn't make out any faces besides his.
Fishes swam past her. They were giant, glowing pink fish... they reminded her of... what were they called again? Goldfish? Goldfish... She yelped slightly as one of these giant, glowing beasts swam behind her, gently nudging her forward. She fumbled forward, gripping onto her shirt shakily. He held out his hand with a familiar cheeky smile.
She felt so misplaced.
His fingers tugged her closer, a stumble backward here and a fumble backward there. The bed felt so soft underneath their bodies, it almost felt like floating on a cloud. His fingers ran against her bare skin, a deep hum emerging from his throat. His fingers gently entwined with hers, gently gripping onto her tightly.
"I looove looove you. I love you thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much β₯οΈ"
...
His head throbbed, his vision blurred. Hearts danced in the edges of his visions, and his shoulders ached. His whole body ached, actually... He felt so cold. He didn't completely know where he was. He was at home... he remembered being in their shared room, stressing out over... something... there was magic paper involved... Maybe he should cut down on the magic paper.
Looking down, his vision blurred slightly. Blurs of purple filled the edges of his vision. Purple... rubbing his eyes, he groaned. The spots in his vision didn't want to go away. Blinking slowly, he groaned again, rubbing his eyes aggressively. Maybe he could really cut down on the magic paper.
His fingers twitched, his fingers laying gently against her bare skin. Purple blur... something warm in his arms... Ame? ... huh. Burying his face in her shoulder, he grumbled. Definitely cut out the magic paper, Angel.
They both had to get up... soonish. In order to board the train and visit... his father and his new daughter. That was right... fuck.
Reaching over, his fingers tapped against the screen of his phone, he groaned. It was 4am. Still, a decent amount of time before they'd have to go out, but... he didn't know if he wanted to keep going. Of course, he promised that he would go. He'd be an asshole if he didn't, and even he had standards.
His hair curled against the pillow, mumbling softly. Closing his eyes gently, he whined softly. Everything hurt. Everything ached. He loved her, he loved her, he looooooved her so much it felt unbearable. His fingers twitched again, pulling Ame's sleeping form closer to his chest. He owed her so many apologies.
...
When he opened his eyes again, it was a little later in the morning... 10am. And, he was feeling... a little better. But, still... he wasn't feeling 100 percent.
Angel groaned as he sat up in the bed, running his hand through his hair with a yawn. Ame had run off into the bathroom to take a shower and get changed. The sound of the shower running trickled softly against his ears, it sounded nice. His eyes fluttered in unison in response to the sound, he really could fall asleep just listening to it...
"Angel?"
Feeling a hand gently against his shoulder, Angel groaned. His body slumped back in response, sinking into the soft mattress. Ame paused, sighing as she leaned over. Placing her hands on his arms, Ame attempted to pull him up from the bed. However, Ame was not that strong.
"Angel, you have to get ready."
"Five more minutes..."
"I've been trying to get you up for the past five minutes!"
He felt a little bad... but, not really. It was kind of entertaining, watching her work for it. But alas... he did have to get dressed so they could travel.
Groaning, Angel sat up, rubbing his hand through his hair. Gently, reaching over, his hands cupped around Ame's face. Her face felt so soft and warm in his hands...
"Fine. I'm gonna go... take a shoooower."
And hopefully not fall over and split his head open in the process. But, if he did... he wouldn't have to visit his father. But, he wouldn't be able to stream either, so they wouldn't be making any money either... damn.
Struggling to get off the bed, Angel stumbled slightly. The high had almost completely worn off by now, but he still felt a littttle tipped off. Pushing the door to the bathroom open, he grumbled, yawning again. His fingers ran along the cold metallic lever for the shower, lightly pushing it to the side. The shower started up with an almost hypnotic whirl, the falling water sounding like heaven to his ears. He reached out, feeling the water against his hands. It felt nice and warm, perfect for a nice morning shower.
...
The shower was definitely nice... and well-needed. Running through his hair with a towel, Angel hummed. Leaning over his dresser, he rummaged through his clothes, his eyes falling on a light blue short-sleeved button-up shirt and a dull blue pair of high-waisted pants. This... this would be a cute but simple outfit. Opening another drawer, he fished out a soft white, high-collar with a nice black bow, and a pair of clip-on suspenders, as well as a nice pair of white socks. Then, tapping his fingers on his lips, he hummed. Accessories... running his fingers lightly along the jewelry lazy Susan. His eyes fell on a pair of cloud-shaped sunglasses and a silver wristwatch. Those... those would look nice with everything...
Humming as he buttoned up his shirt, smoothing down the crinkles. Stretching with a yawn, Angel grumbled. Okay... it was now or never. He just needs to get through the day and he'll be fine... probably. Ame stood at the doorway, holding a small purse in her arms, as well as a rolled-up map.
...
The last time they rode a train together like this was the night they met one another for the very first time. Leaning back as he settled down in his seat, he tilted his head slightly. The train felt rather empty for a train going to a popular, well-known city. A city that homed some of the most powerful sorcerers in the entire world. Not that he was complaining... he loved the fact he and Ame were able to snag a seat, especially for a train ride as long as this one.
You probably wonder what I meant by that. Home of the world's most powerful sorcerers... Well, this train is headed to the heart of Tokyo, and we lived in a dead town 2 and a half hours away from it. I grew up here, actually. Glancing out of the window, Angel frowned. He hadn't come back to Tokyo in years... he couldn't afford to live there on his own, of course. And the curses that lived in the city made it dangerous for a normal person like him. Especially when every curse in that stupid city wanted him dead. But, he left. He left and he never looked back.
Until today, that was. Pulling out a small, hand-held tablet, Angel sat up. It was just a small tablet he used for stream planning, but, he figured it would make a good companion on the go. Doodling on the notes app for that one stream he did a few nights back turned out to be more fun than he initially thought. Leaning to the side, Angel pondered. Drawing... he wondered what there was he could draw. His eyes wandered slightly to the girl sitting next to him, so intently trained on the book she had brought for the long trip. She looked so pretty sitting there... so nerdy and blissfully unaware.
She had tried on a different outfit today, one different from her usual white t-shirt and purple coat and pants. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and the purple sweater vest she wore on top of a white collared shirt looked so pretty on her, he swore it was glistening in the passing sunlight. And the dark pants she wore, matched it very well. Purple had always been such a pretty color on her...
... he doesn't quite know where the time went. He hadn't been doodling her that long, he believed. Maybe just for a few minutes... but there they were, at the end of their line.
"Ame, we're here."
It took a moment of tapping and leading her off the train, but, they were off, and deep in the heart of Tokyo city... he despised no place more. Pulling out his phone, he looked up the address from the messages between him and this girl. Her name was Myriad. Interesting name, he thought to himself.
It was a decent walk from the train station, fifteen minutes or so... he nodded affirmatively. It was a simple and straightforward route with a few twists and a few turns the closer they got, but... he could do it. (Maybe he could feign getting lost on the way, but, Ame might call him out for it. Maybe it'd be for the best he didn't dillydally.)
"So, your dad lives here? It's a nice little neighborhood."
"Apparently."
Glancing around, he felt... nervous. He felt like he was going to be sick. Did this really have to be a canon event? Really? Seriously? There were several kids in the neighborhood, playing on their lawns, teenagers doing dances in the streets, grownups playing basketball on the court...
Slowly, they came to a stop in front of a well-maintained rather large two-story house. There were decorations on the lawn, a nice set of flora all over the lawn, a cute stepping stone path... a wooden porch, a wooden rocking chair... and an older, white-haired blue-eyed man sitting in it.
"... Oh. Apparently, he really does live here."
"... he really does look like you. Like... to a t."
Ame looked back and forth between Angel and the man in the chair. They both had the same white hair and blue eyes, fair skin... they were even both wearing sunglasses. It was uncanny for a son who hadn't seen his father in nearly 6 years.
"Angel! You're actually here!"
The voice was unfamiliar to his ears... and so was the face. A young girl skipped out of the open front door, holding an ice cream cone in her hand. The girl was short, with long brownish-red hair, and pinkish eyes, wearing a nice yellow sundress and a beige sunhat.
"You're... Myriad, right? And... dad. Uh... hi?"
"... is Angel what you go by now?"
"Uh, yeah. It is."
Skipping down the stairs, Myriad nodded with a smile. She giggled, holding out her hand towards Angel. Angel paused, then, taking her hand, he smiled back.
"I'm Myriad! It's nice to meet you."
"... Yeah. Likewise."
...
He never grew up with siblings... or a present parent for that matter. And he didn't have friends either... sometimes it was painful to remember that fact. But... not as painful as the fact his father somehow burnt their dinner, and they had to go out to a sushi restaurant instead.
"Seriously, how do you burn water, Dad?"
"Hey hey. Not too much on me."
Reaching over, Angel picked up a piece of sushi from the conveyor belt, gently pinching it between his chopsticks, an unimpressed expression on his face. Taking the sushi, he turned slightly towards Ame, holding it out towards her.
"This one is a California roll. Not sure why they call it that."
"Was it made in California?"
Laughter erupted from his throat, and his hands shook, nearly dropping the sushi roll. He couldn't help himself. There was something so sweet and endearing about her, even as she asked stupid questions. There's something so... intoxicating about her. He couldn't exactly put his fingers on what it was, however.
---
They always say that love is blind. When you love someone, you don't see their faults. You're lost in the clouds high above any reach of common sense, a high so powerful it is unmatched by any drug. True, unadulterated bliss.
His fingers were shaking a little bit as he held a small bouquet of sunflowers in his hands, wrapped in a pretty glistening blue bow. She had worked so many miracles in his life, brought him back to a place he never thought he could, she'd helped him grow more as a person than he ever could alone.
Sunflowers always face towards the sun, bright and warm. They were a pretty flower, simple and pure. And, they were Ame's favorite flower. He didn't know how to take care of sunflowers. He spent a lot of time googling it, looking it up, he even asked the woman from the flower shop how to care for them.
When they were successful and rich, Angel wanted to buy a decent-sized house with a beautiful front lawn. He wanted to line that lawn with sunflowers and watch them grow. He wanted to put up little picket fences and create a stone walkway. Ame loved the look of it in all those magazines she strung up on her office wall... And he loved how angelic she looked when she was happy.
But, this would have to do for now... sunflowers are still sunflowers, right?
Stepping through the door to their apartment, Angel looked around. The apartment was littered with the wrappings of the many gifts he had bought for her over the months they had been streaming together. Small gifts, like a new mini bookshelf for her books, or a puzzle she had been eyeing... chocolates, sweets, foods... anything she wanted she got and more.
His feet clicked against the floor, a soft thud as he traveled through the small apartment, stopping in front of the bedroom door. Hesitating in front of the door, Angel listened quietly, before raising his hand and knocking gently on the door.
"Ame? Can I come in?"
There was a moment of silence for a long while, and quietly, Angel pushed down on the doorknob. He carefully pushed the door open with his arm, sticking his head inside the room. His eyes scanned the room before eventually falling on the sleeping figure in the bed. Well... that explains why she didn't answer the door.
Taking a step into the room, Angel paused. His eyes fell on the sunflowers on his arms. Then, chuckling, he made his way over to the bedside drawer, placing the flowers on the dresser's surface. She could have them as a surprise when she woke up.
His fingers twitched as he reached over, gently brushing against her bangs as he leaned over. She really was so pretty, no matter what she was doing... planting a kiss against her forehead, he smiled softly.
"I love you."
Ground control to psychoeletric angel, do you copy?
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ENDING ? - GROUND CONTROL TO PSYCHOELECTRIC ANGEL β₯οΈ
>> Try Again? > Yes!! > No!!
#[ rain_candy // moderator ]#[ β // data recollection ]#[ Earning Internet Angel Wings β ]#writing#oc writing#[ another ending down...!! yippee!!! ]#[ this took me forever to do AAAA ]#[ okay i'm gonna go disappear now goodbyeee ]
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They describe me well, but I wouldnβt say anything about favourites.
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rain_candy is online β’
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rain_candy // Oh... hmm, that makes sense.
rain_candy // Butterflies are really pretty creatures... and somehow, we can all relate to them. Somehow. In some way.
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β¦ I think Butterfly works too, or Em
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rain_candy is online β’
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rain_candy // Em... that's a nice name. My name is Ame but... you already knew that, huh.
rain_candy // Butterflies are really beautiful creatures... Are they your favorite?
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Hopefully we will be okay. You can call meβ¦ Tββββββ.
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rain_candy is online β’
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rain_candy // The chat censored most of your name... can I call you T for now?
rain_candy // And... yeah. Hopefully, we'll be okay. Although, it's hard sometimes... I don't know sometimes... and I get really scared.
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What an interesting view. You can change anything and everything about yourself, but in the end, you are still shackled to βyouβ, then what makes you, you? The sum of the parts can change, the mind, the soul, the body, anything can change, but you canβt remove the tether that keeps you from being something else entirely, yes? How does one tell when a butterfly is no longer a caterpillar, but still the same being? Can you even tell? Can I?
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rain_candy is online β’
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rain_candy // It's... I guess it isn't something physical... it's more of a feeling. It's more of something deep down inside you that can never be replaced...
rain_candy // You might never know... and I may not know either... But...
rain_candy // We'll be alright, won't we?
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