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[baeiha-archive]

"A faith is a necessity to man. Woe to him who believes in nothing."

                                                                             -{ Yasuhiro Hagakure | Mastermind }-

Independent Dangan Ronpa/Super Dangan Ronpa 2 RP blog

Multiverse, selectively multifandom, OC friendly

Adaptive style; defaults to para/multipara prose

NSFW {gore, violence, etc} can and will be mentioned

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[baeiha-archive]

"A faith is a necessity to man. Woe to him who believes in nothing."

                                                                             -{ Yasuhiro Hagakure | Mastermind }-

Independent Dangan Ronpa/Super Dangan Ronpa 2 RP blog

Multiverse, selectively multifandom, OC friendly

Adaptive style; defaults to para/multipara prose

NSFW {gore, violence, etc} can and will be mentioned

                                                      About      Ask      Banner

[baeiha-archive]

[ Oi, children, this blog is moving. Turtle's tidying over the other den as we speak! ]

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[ I was planning on re-doing this blog entirely with more of his personality and his actual verse cemented, but I realized I don't have any open emails and I really want to get going on my merperson project. Someone send help. ]

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[ I suppose hitting 450 is as good or bad a time as any… ]

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[ I suppose hitting 450 is as good or bad a time as any… ]

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[baeiha-archive]

[ I suppose hitting 450 is as good or bad a time as any... ]

To regretfully announce seriously considering my resignation from... here. It's been a great deal of fun, being around the community, and I'll certainly miss you guys a lot, but I don't think I can really keep up much anymore.

I've certainly enjoyed my time here, and I like to think that I've made a few good friends along the way, even if I hardly ever say anything to you guys for fear of being the awkward little turtle that I really am, but I'm not quite sure what it is I'm doing anymore. Maybe a little break is in order. Maybe a permanent one.

I haven't quite settled my mind on this yet, considering the sort of ridiculous attachment I've developed to this character and this community, but I do know that I won't be around for at least a little while. It's a combination of various personal things, as well as just a gradual withdrawal from... well. Nearly everything.

Until I finally decide, I'll still check in around here and the inbox is always open. If you really need me, I do have a skype and a personal around somewhere, and you're welcome to ask if you want to stay in contact.

A final decision will be made regarding the state of this blog in... maybe the next few days. Maybe a week or so -- I'm not sure yet. Indecision is a running theme in my life.

Thank you guys for being a pretty sweet group of people, even if I never actually spoke to a bunch of you. Thanks for putting up with my nonsense and thanks for giving me the opportunity to grow as a person and sort of work on a few of those writing skills that needed sharpening.

-- Lyn

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The longer the tension precipitated in the air between them, the more he could see what effect their initial encounter had on her, physically and mentally. Her hesitation was more than understandable enough, considering they had presumed him dead. Pride had always been the sticking point between them, many of his orders having to be communicated through other members of their cohort. There was a brief moment where he wondered why he came to her first, of all of the surviving members. Something had compelled him to come to this room, and it wasn't necessarily in his place to wonder what had brought them there. To think that he had to convince her first...

"You're right, Peko-chi," his own gaze met hers, refusing to flinch at the amount of determination and what may have been loathing that lay behind them. "I don't understand. So why don't you explain it to me?"

The words that left his mouth were dancing awkwardly around the implicit topic his very existence dredged up. His ability to hold a conversation left much to be desired, particularly when it came to articulating something as complex and illusory as the visions of the universe. This particular student was not the best place for him to start, considering her penchant for unreadable silence and his blithe attempts at humor and small talk were pathetic at best, even with more willing partners.

He watched as the emotion manifested itself in her demeanor, in the way in which she sat up just that much more -- or so that was what it seemed she was trying to do. He shifted slightly so that he could look at her with more comfort than he could before, to size her up. Her condition was far from ideal, frail as she seemed. But they had to start somewhere. His own fingers wrapped idly about his own wrist, more prominent than they might have once been. It seemed time had not been kind to either of them.

The longer he sat there, plagued with resistance, the less inclined time would be to change its treatment.

"Time and treatment are things we can work on," he stared at the back of his hands, studying the wrinkles there as if doing so might help him extract the words he was meant to convey to her. The slightest twinge of desperation and urgency touched the back of his mind. It brought with it the most uncomfortable feeling in his belly, the same sort of odd tugging that often foreshadowed a situation that he would much rather avoid than face.

"Peko-chi, I know I haven't been awfully clear with you in the past few minutes -- maybe not ever -- but this isn't the best place for you to recover, don't you think?" He glanced towards the machines again, whether to prove a point or out of annoyance at the continuous beeping, even he wasn't sure.

"If you're worried about Kuzu-chi, I'm sure there's a way to let him know where you've gone. Never seemed like the type to just leave someone he cared about behind anyway, y'know?" He stood slowly, brushing off the imaginary dust from his trousers. "But you've gotta believe me, just a little while longer. If not, then they are gonna catch me, and something tells me they won't be real friendly with you either."

The Smallest Memory || ayatsuri

○✖○✖○—-{The more he spoke, the lesser she felt she could believe her judgement in discerning whether or not his presence was hallucinatory or real. Strolling into her room, perching down on her bed… Initiating small talk and peppering her mind with charming, fake implications of rekindling some kind of ‘bond’. Brittle bones bedded beneath tired, withering muscle and blanched skin refused to lift her weight, protesting even as she shifted as to sit a little straighter— a futile effort to somehow feel intimidating. Perhaps she wasn’t fond of what was popularly known as the ‘monster treatment’— being given harsh judgement before being spoken to… However, she required to feel as though she could win in a fight, should she have to. Her pride was like plexiglas— a scream waited stubbornly in her throat. She fought to swallow it down as she listened to what he had to say.

"You expect me to…"

There were very few people she could initiate any kind of idle chat with— and he certainly wasn’t one of them. Did he even know what he had caused? To attempt to recover from the madness they had all spiraled into after being lulled by his vision of an ideal world was already a difficult feat, an incredibly challenging battle with one’s own mind to believe that things could potentially get better, that they could move forward. Of course, the elders amongst the Future Foundation’s organization were still distrustful, waiting for the remnants of despair to fall again. They were just waiting for an excuse to pull their triggers on them, to get rid of them before they could allow their poison to taint the soil of the world they were attempting to rebuild. To wake from an almost certain death to be confined to a single hospital room for so many months— constantly observed and monitored…

Her mind wasn’t in the best place. For a long while— it was a matter of just learning to lift her head, recovering from paralysis, moving her lips to form words. A living soul locked inside of a corpse, a shell of a person who once was strong and feared. She’d already made such progress. Once she could move without her legs giving way beneath her, she would be able to attempt to use her shinai— to relearn her footwork and the techniques she had worked so hard to obtain. Whilst she was unhappy in such an environment… to leave would certainly stall her recovery, wouldn’t it? The supply on medication she relied on so heavily to sustain the imagined pain of impalement. The very suggestion of leaving this place with him was far from her mind, at the moment.

While she ached for purpose, to actually get out of this bed and do something… Fuyuhiko had left her behind. He’d grown after her ‘death’ and was a stronger, better man because of it. She was proud and yet… she wanted to catch up as soon as she could. Oftentimes it felt hopeless. Her past self would have followed the shaman without a second thought, whatever his goal was… She’d acted as a simple tool then as well. Performing one task after the next, obedient and compliant without much struggle. 

Cerise hues snapped with accurate precision, away from her weapon and directly at him. They tapered to slits— an impressively vicious glare, for a patient confined to a hospital bed. Leaving? Where would they go? While she ached to go outside, to be freed from this place that consistently reminded her of weakness… while it was enticing— she wasn’t going to fall into his hands, putty to be shaped to his liking. She was no longer a ‘tool’ so easily manipulated by command.

And why her, of all of them? Was her mindset really so weak that he felt he could target her? To see the world around her through the mindset of that of a simple tool… having any will of her own in the past was unfathomable. It was only after a brutal execution that she could even begin to believe herself as something more…

Left relying on a sterile hospital room for survival left her hollow, feeling akin to an object. Not a tool that could be used to accomplish anything, of course. More so… A sword left in a closet, broken in two. Perhaps a tool associated with memoirs and nostalgia that a master figure was unwilling to throw away. But much too broken to make use of. She lacked personality or identity to keep her mind at peace when she couldn’t otherwise use her body to occupy herself.

"You… you don’t even know…”

Whilst they could take part of the blame, following him had caused all of the occurrences on that godforsaken island. A sensation of emotion swelled and her hands curled into tight fists at her side, flesh over her knuckles whitening. Perhaps the prospect of being considered one of the weakest links served to sink a dagger into her chest. Fueled her anger. When one’s body was weak, who relied so much on strength… And their mind was a mess…

"To recover from execution I still require time… And treatment…" Her hands feathered across the bed so they were balanced vertically beneath her shoulders, squared. She gripped gently at the mattress and attempted to straighten herself up. Her arms ached with protest— but it was something that she did manage to accomplish. Her masked glare, while threatening, held cracks of nervousness in the way that her brows angled and in the beads of sweat that’d accumulated on her forehead. A rising temperature that came with fever and resurfacing memories.

"Bocchan intends to visit tomorrow. I cannot leave." She tried to sound certain, despite the small amounts of evidence on her expression that she was hesitant of her own motives, her clouded judgement. "For you to expect that I would so readily leave with you…"

"—is foolish.”

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"In a little bit," he smiled slightly. "Once everyone's headed off to bed, or something. I'll send a bear, if that makes you happy. The chickens are fed though -- at least there's that, right?"

"Ya ain’t alright, anybody can see that…" Her tired voice sighed. "Eat somethin’ at least… take a shower… do somethin…"

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[ Small warning that I am, and will continue to be, preoccupied for a little while as I work on a few personal projects and continue to study. ]

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I agree with you there, man. A nice cup of tea is perfect for any occasion -- especially for a nice conversation.

Plans, plans -- they don't actually reach that far, Tsumiki-chi. The future comes in little flashes; what I'm allowed to see and know can be limited. 'Sides, did you know it's taboo to look into your own future.

Still, it's not a messenger's place to question what comes after his job, right?

Freshly brewed tea i-is a simple joy undermined by eclipsing, pressing matters. 

Ah, a plethora of subjects, but I actually meant to ask…

—I understand y-you have plans, extravagant plans to implement the cosmic deities’ desires, but I wonder…after executing your setup, what then? What would be left for you? 

Please do not misinterpret my words for doubt, I only ask as a concerned friend. 

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He closed his eyes for a moment, telling himself that this... none of this was real. These were the words of his own creation, much as he would have enjoyed the idea that they weren't. "I'm still alright. I can't keep on eye on him if I'm asleep either, y'know. The guy's always around doing his own thing."

  "Yer a fuckin’ liar," the voice snapped. "You’ll end up passin’ out if ya don’t eat ‘r sleep. If you pass out, yer not keepin an eye on Mondo like ya promised. "

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Hagakure scowled, only momentarily. It sounded as if his classmate were confusing the idea of a 'right' with that of a 'freedom,' but it was something he didn't deem important enough to bring up -- not then.

What bothered him most was the air of superiority, the idea that what he was born into, what circumstance and matters of his own actions gave him the freedom to criticize and insult as he wished.

"Now, hold up for a second, Togami-chi. You already stayed this long; just a little while longer wouldn't hurt your that much." Why Togami was so concerned with how much time he spent socializing with those he deigned beneath him, Hagakure would never know.

"Besides," he said, his voice dropping slightly lower. "Time isn't really yours to waste."

A Grain of Sand || deathbybirthright

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"Eh?"

"I... don't mind helping, Enoshima-chi, I guess. But don't you think you should be asking someone like Celes-chi or something?"

+1 ( baeiha )

"Oh! Oh! Haga-kun! Is that, like, you? Heehee, goody!!! Can you, like, help me out with my hair? It won’t stay up!"