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industria-adastra · 8 months ago

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[Vampire Knight] - If I'm to be reborn, I'll find you (again, again, again) - CHAPTER TWO: ruler of my heart (you outburn the sun)

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Summary: He hates her, he loves her, he hates her. He misses her. (The only place he can have her is in his dreams)

Note: Hopefully I'm getting better at this updating consistently thing but yeah zero's chapter. Next chapter is going to be kaname/yume focused again sorry zero or zeki enjoyers.

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He’s not the first one to hear of the news. In fact, he’s neither the second, nor third (and so on) recipient of the fact that Kuran Yuuki is dead. Zero doesn’t hear it from the Chairman, his teacher, Kaito, or even from one of the vampires. In hindsight, perhaps he should have been more suspicious, should have questioned the way paperwork always found its way to his desk unceasingly—leaving him with no time to focus on the outside world.

Zero simply hears of it in passing whilst heading out for lunch, through a conversation between two nameless hunters—discussing it like changes in the weather.

“Did you hear? Kuran Yuuki is dead.”

“Another pureblood gone, huh… Wonder if it was her brother that did her in?”

“The rapidly decreasing execution missions would likely clue you into the answer.”

“Right, right.”

It’s hysterically, laughably casual in the way such information comes to him.

(It can’t be real. It can’t be real. It can’t be real—)

The world seems to stop on its axis, and Zero wonders if he should’ve simply ignored his desire for shio ramen today. After all, it’s not like he has an appetite now. His stomach roils with discomfort at the thought of food, and his throat itches for a scant few seconds before it burns. A sandstorm swirls and tears at his flesh. Mind blank, Zero goes where his feet wish to travel, content to let his mind stay in a haze.

He ends up in the association bathrooms, throwing up nothing but paltry strings of bile and choking on his spit.

There is too much work to be done. The vampire world, for one, was going through a massive societal upheaval. Zero simply couldn't do anything more than throw up into an association toilet before being fed an ungodly amount of paperwork as if he were some humanoid paper shredder.

And maybe it's because more than four years ago, just over a year ago—with Ichiru dead in his arms—he's finally refined a true and tried method for every loss he's been through. Every thought of her is locked behind a glass vault, buried six feet under, the key left behind to collect dust. Zero works through papers and decimates his targets with the same ease. Every stroke of his pen is enforced with the explosive sound of his gun, of ashes in the wind. Rinse and repeat, his days all blur together in their sameness.

Months later, on a job just like any other, Zero walks into a department store and sees a long coat, hanging neatly from the racks. Stupidly, he thinks, ‘Yuuki would probably say I should get it if she saw it.’ And then, oh, how it hits him at that very moment.

Yuuki is dead.

Apparently, it had been the pureblood Shirabuki Sara. A pureblood through and through, she’d sent pawns to do her dirty work.

But she’d miscalculated the consequences of her actions, as all those high up on their thrones of arrogance were prone to doing so.

So she too, is dead, consumed by the pureblood king Kuran Kaname—he’s slaughtered more influential vampires than any hunter ever would in their lifetime. In the privacy of his thoughts, Zero thinks that had he the power and madness to do so, he would’ve too.

Sanity is both a blessing and a curse, because there is nothing else for Zero to turn to but his thoughts alone.

Roaring water fills his ears, and Zero sits, unmoving on the wet shower tiles. Steam fogs up the room, blurring his vision. He watches the water run down the drain for hours, washing the grime caked on his body until his fingers are all pruned and his skin is red with heat. His stomach is growling at him, and the water bill is for sure going to shoot up with this, but Zero can’t bring himself to care much about the future right now.

(Any second now, she might barge into the bathroom to demand usage of the shower, to dramatically proclaim that he’s spent too long hogging it, to threaten to turn off the hot water in a minute even if she never ends up doing it.

But this apartment houses only him, and is far away from that Academy, far away from all those precious yet painful memories. The tiles aren’t even the right colour, beige, off-white, and an intense white that could be comparable to that of a strobe light. The shampoo and body wash he’s bought—the same one she always used in the Academy, a subtle floral scent of roses—only serve to highlight all the differences he can find between his current bathroom and the one in his memories.)

The doorbell suddenly rings, insistent and unfaltering like a military march. Zero is sure it’s been modified because there’s no way a regular doorbell could be so annoyingly loud like the one he has. With the way it’s blaring in his ears every second, it’s clear that whoever’s behind the door won’t take his silent refusal as an answer.

The water continues to flow into the drain, taking with it the numerous dissolving blood tablets strewn across the wet floor.

For a moment, Zero allows himself to be deluded by the idea that it’s her behind the door—-she’d always been as stubborn as a mule when she put her mind to it. But it is the sound of the doorbell that echoes in his ears, not an annoyed rat-a-tat-tat followed by the creak of an opening door. What follows is sandy blond hair and the glint of spectacles. They stare at each other for a moment, the headmaster and him. Nearby, the water continues to flow.

Even now, Zero can never truly parse the emotion behind those glasses of his.

“You know she wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

And even now, the headmaster’s words are as precise as his killing blows. Hearing them, Zero flinches. They stab into him, tearing open wounds until the pain is nothing but white numbness. But the mention of her, as always, pushes him to move on the legs of a shambling corpse. His hand slams against the bathroom tiles; the force of it is always degrees lower than it could be.

“How do you know what she would’ve wanted?” His words are acrid, angry in a way he doesn’t want to explain. “She’s gone. She’s not coming back.” Zero grits his teeth, looking straight at Kaien Cross’s eyes before he spits out a final bout of venom. “She’s been dead ever since she became one of them.”

Yet like always, the headmaster’s calm never wavers. “You know, that it’s always been her. No matter if Yuuki,” the sound of her name, said aloud, led to the tiles cracking under his hands, “stayed human or not, She’ll always be Yuuki. Maybe she changed and grew up a little—faster than I would’ve wanted or liked—but at her core, she was always, always Yuuki. She didn’t die that day. You knew that fact as well as I did.” And here, Zero feels the weight of the executioner’s blade above him, about to drop. “Otherwise, why do you try so hard to keep them as separate entities, even now, when she’s truly dead and gone?”

Zero drops to his knees painfully, leaving marks of destruction behind on the walls. He covers part of his face with a hand, contemplating further denial with the truth laid out so plainly before him.

“I never…”

“You never told her your true feelings, and now she’s gone. Because it was easier to accept it if you felt as if you'd already mourned beforehand.” The headmaster’s voice is soft, almost as if reminiscing a similar scene. He crouches down and puts a hand on Zero’s shoulder. “Let it out, Zero. It’s only me and you now.”

There are no tears left for him to cry, but his throat tightens, and Zero hiccups out words all the same.

“I loved her. But she chose him.”

A ragged breath cuts his words short before Zero finds the strength to continue.

“I still loved her, even to the very end.”

The sky glows with a mix of different vibrant, brilliant colours—it’s an intensely beautiful scene, so much so that Zero wants to throw up. A cacophony of emotions welled up in him, knowing that such a view would be forever denied to the girl who was the most like the sun. He almost wishes that a storm would suddenly start, right at that moment.

But the sun continues to glow with a detestable radiance, and the days continue to go by relentlessly. The world does not wait for one man’s grief.

He goes back into his bedroom and sits on his bed. Afterwards, he brings out Bloody Rose.

A click, and he watches as the empty magazine drops to the ground with a heavy thunk. Mechanically, Zero goes through the familiar motions of reloading Bloody Rose. The gun hangs loose in his hands. When it’s done, still holding Bloody Rose, his arm raises, up, up. Its silver muzzle points under his exposed chin without even the slightest tremor, pressing firmly into the soft flesh.

He thinks about a girl, who, long ago, had rushed into a different room and wrenched this very gun out of his hands. Thinks of a life preserved for reasons he refused to believe was out of love. Thinks of a life, gone because it was loved so dearly.

The sunlight pierces through haphazardly closed curtains. A clock ticks in the background. He lets both the gun and himself fall on the bed.

His door is still closed.

(She’d wanted him to live)

Her blood still resides within him. But it lies, still, silent. Not a single iota of warmth flows in his body; it is ice in his veins in contrast to Kuran’s acidic poison. Were Zero to close his eyes and attempt to delude himself, he would simply fail from the get-go. Because Zero has always been faced with hard truths; so many times, he sees them over and over again—in the mirror, in the way he used to bite himself by accident and in the hunter’s bracelet on his desk.

She is gone and he must swallow down that bitter truth like the way he mindlessly consumes blood tablets.

(They scrape his throat, going down and making it uncomfortably dry; it tastes of overly sugared cough syrup; and he doesn’t want to, doesn’t wish to accept a world without her in it.

But her blood still lies.)

He dreams of her. Not always, but sometimes he does. On those days, when he wakes up, Zero can’t seem to muster up the strength to get out of bed. It’s easier to bask in the what-ifs and could-beens, or the has-beens and bygone halcyon days. Breathing is easier, living feels easier, being carried by fantasies and memories. He always has to stop himself from getting too carried away—because ultimately the world does not care. Time continues to march forward, the Earth continues to spin on its axis and around the sun.

Sometimes Zero wants to curse at her. Because no matter how easy it was at that moment, reality would always settle in as an infinite weight, caving his lungs beneath him. But he could never stay angry at her, no matter what she did, or what she became. Before, he had sworn to kill her—but really, he wouldn’t have minded had she put him to rest instead.

"Zero? Did you fall asleep in the stables again? Geez, what's with you always showing up late for the transition periods!" She punches him forcefully in the back a couple of times, unrelenting even in the face of his annoyance and mild pain. (He wouldn’t have it any other way)

“Ow, ow, ow, ow—! Oi, would you quit it already?” He turns to slap a large hand over her forehead, pushing her away from him with great resistance on her part. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” Zero doesn’t say it, but her puffed cheeks and flailing limbs make her look as ridiculous as she is cute, and he’s almost tempted to flick her in the forehead for good measure.

“Yes, yes, alright now stop pushing me!” She glares up at him, arms folded in annoyance. “Don’t forget that as the prefects, we have an important job to do—which means, stop being late!”

“By important job, you mean stopping a bunch of idiot classmates from throwing themselves into the slavering jaws of humanoid beasts?” Zero raises a wry eyebrow, watching her face gain a mildly exasperated look. When he turns to jab at the inevitable mass of lovesick, occasionally fanatic day-class students to further make a point, Zero finds that there’s no one there.

Right.

He turns back to look for her, but there’s no one there.

When Zero cooks breakfast for his birthday, he takes care to watch his food burn, forces it down his throat and makes sure it stays put. The eggs are rubbery, the toast is burnt, and the bacon is like chewing wood, but somehow he devours it with as much eagerness as a regular bowl of shio ramen.

She used to make such god-awful food.

(Zero finds vials of blood on his doorstep that day.

He practically guzzles the pills instead.)

"Hey Zero, I think this would look pretty good on you." She takes out the long coat with a flourish, holding it up next to him with a contemplative expression. Zero stares back blankly at her, knowing little about the intricacies of what was his “colour”, or what “went well with his eyes”. Sure, he has some preferences, but he finds that he doesn’t mind watching her pick out his clothes for it.

(It’s oddly domestic in that way, and he dreams of what could’ve been—had they been normal, had they not had destiny and duty looping around their necks like a noose)

The next day, he goes and buys himself another coat. Staring at its dark colours and its simple design, Zero wonders if this could’ve been something she would’ve chosen for him.

(He never wears it. Dust collects on the cloth, tints the fibres grey and overrides the fresh store-bought scent, but he never wears it.)

"Zero, we can stay together for the night, just like before—I’ll watch over your dreams, and you can watch over mine, ok?" Under the warm covers, she whispers this to him, and their fingers intertwine together. Her hands have always run colder than his, but even so, her hands are freezing—as cold as the dead.

When he wakes up, the space beside him on the bed is cold.

It has always been cold.

There is no grave, no stone marker, but he supposes that the Kuran Manor serves well enough as a reminder. The rumours don’t paint a pretty picture—the king of beasts, almost mad in his sobriety; the king of beasts, living only for memories and promises; the king of beasts, someone who’d crush you underfoot for his dreams without a second thought.

Standing in front of the tall, dark and rusting iron gates, Zero can almost choke on the overpowering scent of roses. They’re everywhere, in full bloom, mere buds, wilting or decayed. It’s a smell that only reminds him of what could have been, and what he let go of, of that fateful night in the academy.

Were it him, he would’ve planted sunflowers instead.

(Zero doesn’t enter. He knows how much Kuran hated him entering any space deemed as his own. It wouldn’t change now, half-mad as they both were.)

Violence is, perhaps, the only outlet that Zero knows will never let him down. There is release to be found when he hunts down level Es; there is no need for emotion, only cold, pure logic in which he can execute his duty as a protector (that he’d already failed so many times before). With every shot of his gun, every blast of the hunter’s sigil and every vampiric body blown apart into dust and ash, Zero puts to rest the grievances of so many others—but never his own.

Kaito no longer makes any sort of comment about such trips, only there to stop him from presumably losing his head and forcing the association to find yet another leader (or so he says, but they both know part of the association would be thrilled to find a reason to off him). Sure, Kaito mindlessly chatters about the surroundings and his day, but they both know that saying anything about her—no matter how sound his reasoning could be—would create a one-way ticket to the end of their friendship.

He tried, once. (“You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You have to accept the fact that she’s gone and that she didn’t choose you.” He’d paused then, reproach evident in his face before he continued. “She was a pureblood first.”

“She had been human.”

“Had.”

“And so had I been, once.”

“…Just don’t get yourself killed.”)

It’s nice to have someone stay. But he’ll never say it. People can’t stay simply because you want them to. Their decisions have always been their own.

Perhaps the universe had an ironic sense of humour if he was back to teach Cross Academy’s Day Class ethics of all things. The headmaster clearly made a mistake in forcing him to do what he flippantly called a “much-needed change of perspective”. Somehow Yagari, of all people, seemed to think that it’d be good for him to take up such a position in addition to his duties as both a hunter and the president of the hunter’s association.

“You’re a good kid, but you need a better head on your shoulders,” is all Yagari says on that matter, and off Zero goes into once more dealing with teenagers—this time as an adult rather than one of their peers. He half expects it to be just like before.

But it’s not.

Revealing the truth of the Night Class to the Day Class means that there are no more barriers between the vampires and humans of Cross Academy. Without the distance, there is not enough room for worship, and what is left are only two kinds of being, all simply trying to live in a new world.

Teaching ethics really means “filling in the gaps” so that vampire-human relations will go more smoothly. Unlike his mentor though, Zero thankfully doesn’t need to use either express or implied threats of violence to get his students to listen. And he finds that, with the truth revealed, the Day Class students now behave in much calmer ways—ironically, the truth had perhaps “humanised” the vampires for them.

They listen carefully to his teachings; Zero does his utmost to drill them into their heads, complete with drawings that are only marginally better than her toddler scribbles. He’s sure that when he’s out of sight and earshot, they laugh about it, just as they laugh alongside the vampires they’d once thought of as unreachable.

Watching it all from a distance, it almost feels unbearably nostalgic yet melancholic—because this had not been his world. Had she and Zero never been torn apart from the natural way of things, reborn and reforged in blood, they would have never met.

(He wonders if he would’ve dismissed her as nothing but a monster. If their old classmates would have thought of her as another pseudo-goddess to worship.)

Zero watches two worlds meld, and is not quite at peace, but at the very least, the memories, the “what ifs” here do not hurt.

However, it doesn’t take long for him to resign. In the end, Zero is better cut out for other things, rather than becoming another face in the crowd of the headmaster’s rampant eccentrics that he calls teachers. But, sometimes, seeing the world that she wished for, finally, slowly, starts to be created… The air is a little lighter, even as his throat aches. She would’ve liked to watch the two different classes fumble through cooking on their own.

Maybe he’ll make ginger pork stir fry tonight.

It’s years before he meets Wakaba Sayori again. Zero nearly forgets about her wedding, were it not for the Headmaster’s, and Kaito’s constant, unceasing reminders via letters and spoken words. The final nail in the coffin is the wedding invitation itself. If he doesn’t attend the wedding, he’s sure that someone will come to physically strong-arm him to the event.

The wedding itself is a rather small affair, given Sayori’s background and what he remembers of Aidou’s proclivity for dramatics. Maybe it was Sayori who’d wanted it. Or maybe it was a joint agreement. Zero doesn’t know either of them well enough to say, but he prefers it this way.

Staring at the happy couple—in the back of his mind—Zero morbidly wonders if death will also do them part earlier than expected. He’s quick to shut down that train of thought as soon as it appears. He wouldn’t wish such a feeling on anyone.

After the event, Zero keeps his copy of the wedding photo, keeping it safe with the other one that marked his first year of high school. Against the glossy sheen of the new photo, that one looks all the more faded; the new photo always feels as if it’s missing something.

She would’ve loved to see the wedding; would’ve been the maid of honour, lovely in gentle pinks and a happy blush on her cheeks.

He startles at the vision, dropping the photo book with an unceremonious thud.

The burn in his throat has never gone away since that fateful night of snow. But it’s now a familiar constant, easily relegated to the back of his mind. What does it mean? Zero doesn’t know, only watching as society changes, and as people grow to create a world where there could be true peace.

But it feels easier to breathe for himself, even as he continues to breathe for her. Zero isn’t sure if he’ll ever stop breathing—living—for her. It’s alright this way, and the dreams now leave him feeling more…fond rather than wanting.

It’s only a glimpse, but years and years later, Zero gets a chance to see how Kuran Kaname now fares in this still unfamiliar world. Despite his achievements and the iron-clad grip he has on the rest of the vampires—key in fostering the new partnership between humans and vampires—he rarely shows his face. Does the smell of roses, in its various stages of life, cling to him like a parasite? Or maybe it’s the other way around, with roses built within everything he owns, everything that he is.

As Zero contemplates, he thinks back to the regularly replaced sunflowers in his office and his flat.

When he sees him, Zero gets his answer.

Lounging on his throne, the smell of blood, dust and decay is attached to him like that of a rose with its thorns. Kaname Kuran stares emptily at everyone and nowhere, only occasionally opening his mouth to send orders. Within his hands is a resin-encased rose, looking worn and smooth from the years. His clothes don’t quite fit what he’s supposed to be, refined King of the Vampires. Rather, dressed in loose clothing, the apathy in his gaze, Kuran almost reminds him of—

(Zero tries not to think about it)

After so long, even hate will cool. They both loved, they both lost. It is a reality of the world that they live in. That she could not ever see the dream she wished for come to reality. In fact, looking at this sombre, cold, alone figure… He almost pities him. Kaname Kuran, top of the world but with no one left.

Could they see what Zero sees? The old Night Class no longer stands nearby, but at polite distances, looking almost weary. It was the kind of weariness that he was most familiar with.

After all, the hunter association had always looked at him this way.

Zero at least has the headmaster, has Kaito, has his teacher. Kuran has no one at all.

Even beasts could be pitiable.

(Yuuki knew that best, didn’t she)

Maybe it’s only fitting that he’ll die from protecting a child who looks so much like Yuuki. Not quite in the flesh, but more so in spirit—and wasn’t that the most important, most beautiful quality about her? Especially now, memory half-baked and succumbing to erosion over the years. In the face of time, it all crumbles to dust, just like his body is now; not even sure whether it is his or the bodies of mad vampires he’s slain.

Zero can see her crying, tears wetting his shirt, mixing with the dust in a way that he’d be mildly disgusted by were he not currently dying. “It’s alright,” he says, reaching out with hands that only smear more dust into her hair. Zero isn’t sure if the garbled sounds reaching his ears are truly words or not. Maybe the girl is speaking, maybe the girl is simply sobbing.

Or maybe he is already dead.

When he closes his eyes, Kiryuu Zero dies before a young girl’s eyes, leaving nothing but a pile of empty clothes and a silver gun.

The incessant ringing of an alarm is loud and annoying enough to cave metaphorically his skull in with its shrill noise alone. Grumbling, Zero burrows deeper into his blankets, covering himself fully in an attempt to block out the noise. It doesn’t fully work, but a partial solution is better than no solution at all, so Zero gets right back to falling asleep.

The heavyweight landing unceremoniously on top of his body puts an abrupt stop to that. “Zeeroo! We’re gonna be late for school again!” Ichiru whines, digging his pointy elbows right into Zero’s sides, knowing full well the exact location of his arms. He’s lucky that Zero loves him.

“Gerroff me, Ichiru,” he groans, the sound muffled by the blankets, gently shoving away at the incessant prodding. “We don’t even have to wake up until ten minutes later.”

“How do you even know that?” Questions Ichiru, switching up his tactics and physically smothering Zero in another attempt to force him out of bed.

“I pay attention in class rather than daydream about the divorced neighbour next door.”

Just as Ichiru is about to retaliate with a few choice words, the bedroom door bursts open to herald another arrival. “Zero! Get up, we're gonna be late!’ Kuran Yuuki rushes over to drag him out of bed with strength contrary to her small size. “Get up you lazy bum!” She promptly drops him on the ground, ignoring his affronted yell and Ichiru’s snickering in favour of rifling through his wardrobe.

“Good morning Yuuki!” Ichiru cheerily waves at her from Zero’s bed, delighting in the extra chaos and suffering added to his brother’s normal routine.

“Morning Ichiru!” She absent-mindedly chirps back, piling the different pieces of Zero’s uniform onto one arm. Halfway through, Yuuki looks back at Zero. “Oi, get up Zero! Aren’t you supposed to be the one with the best attendance record out of all of us?”

“I shouldn’t have messed with your alarm,” Zero grumpily mutters, not bothering to get up from the floor. From above, Ichiru barely attempts to stifle his laughter. “Stop laughing, Ichiru.”

Unfortunately for Zero, Yuuki could hear him perfectly well. Her body snaps around just in time for Yuuki to let out an outraged cry of, “You what?!”

At that, Zero groans, and Ichiru only laughs louder and harder.

(He wouldn’t trade this for anything else in the world)

#my writing #angst #vampire knight #fanfiction #zero kiryuu #kiryuu zero #tw grief #tw: suicidal thoughts #cw: suicidal ideation and an attempt #i really did not expect zero's part to get so long #but tbf this has been happening to my writing #i just keep thinking i could flesh out some parts more and then boom another couple hundred words or even 1k added with just one scene #radiant zeki #zero goes through it but it's arguably not as bad as with kaname because he has people to pull him back and tell him he's being dumb #and he knows it too #unlike kaname who literally has no one else who can tell him he's being stupid without fear of being killed

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coffeebanana · 2 months ago

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Chapter 4: Churning Through A Dark Grey Sky

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut. He did his best to ignore scraping of chair legs against linoleum, announcing the doctor’s approach. He wasn’t ready for this. Exhaustion weighed upon him like a suffocating fog, and his whole body ached, muscles trembling like he’d run a marathon. In reality, he’d spent the early hours of the morning in the throes of full-body cramps, his heart beating overtime as sweat drenched his sheets. The last thing he wanted now, after being poked and prodded by nurses all day, was to have someone digging through his head, too. But he had to play along. To give the performance of his life. He needed to get the hell out of here.

#coffeebanana fics #mtl fic #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #cw suicide attempt #cw depression #cw suicidal ideation #cw overdose

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a-j-s-the-only · 1 month ago

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I know someone loves me

but it’s still really hard to wake up

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kittzuxp · 5 months ago

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Twomp oneshot i wrote cuz i was feeling miserable

on Ao3

CW: denial😔, cheating, self-destuctive thoughts and suicide

Mr plant was watching the telly, well not really, he was fidgeting with his hands while he heard the faint laugh tracks playing in the background. He was almost drifting off to sleep when the front door slammed, which shook him wide awake. He titled his head to look, it was his boyfriend, Argos! He looked like he was in a hurry, sweaty and taking big shaky breaths. His eyes filled with anger.

*[what happened?] Mr plant felt a little taken aback, Argos had never acted like this.

“You tell me!” He yelled, throwing photos on his lap. Mr plant fumbled with the photos trying to take a good look at them, and was slightly disgusted by the sight.

It was a depiction of him, holding someone else’s hands and looking at them with the same passion and warmth he looked at his beloved. The person’s face was obscured but some leaves of a tree in the foreground. The setting seemed to be at midnight, a single street lamp illuminating him and the other silhouette. The photo seemed to have been taken at a higher perspective, like a window from the second floor of a house.

The other photos were about the same, but the positions were slightly different. mr plant started feeling uneasy, he had never done this with anyone, nor does he remember this happening.

Mr plant felt uneasy, he knew where this was going, he had seen enough romance shows to know what usually happens.

*[Where did you find the photo?]

“It doesn’t matter! That’s you in the pictures, right?”

*[No! I would never cheat on you.]

“Don’t lie to me! It’s definitely you!” Argos sounded tired, but also hurt. So so so hurt.

*[Where did you find this?! Who gave this to you?] He stood up, towering over Argos by a few inches, and grabbed his forearm. Argos winced and looked at Mr plant in the eyes.

“Why does that matter! It’s none of your business!” He insisted and shook his arm, making Mr plant let go of his powerful grip.

*[It IS my business if I’m the one being photographed!] Mr plant didn’t understand why Argos refused to tell him.

“I- uhm.. UGHH!! When were you planning on telling me this?!” His eyes started tearing up from frustration. Mr plant hurt to see him like this, he reached out his lanky hand to Argos’ cheek to wipe the tears. Argos’ eyes wandered on Mr plant’s face after looking away and slapping Mr plant’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me.” He muttered. Mr plant was hurt by this, but obeyed.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Argos spoke up. Mr plant didn’t have time to think, his mind didn’t have enough time to race.

“We, should break up… this relationship. If you’re going to be dishonest.” He said again, with a firm and slightly louder voice.

“…I think..” he sighed and looked at him, “Look, I think this won’t work.”

Mr plant titled his head. Surely he misheard Argos. He hummed questioningly and brought his ear closer to Argos’ mouth.

*[hmm?] Mr plant sounded again, putting his ear closer to Argos. Surely he wasn’t hearing this.

“Mr plant. I’m Breaking up with you.” He really hadn’t misheard it. His face was turned from Argos’ so neither of them could see each other’s faces. Mr plant’s grin widened, his tears flowing hot down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them, leaving an ugly smudge on his face. He turned his face, a crying Argos was there, trying to look as if his own words weren’t affecting him and holding back.

*[You’d really rather believe some photographs than me..?] Argos was quiet, his two big eyes avoiding Mr plant, his other, smaller ones were looking right at him.

———

As soon as he had come, he had left. and Mr plant was alone.

He was too alone, so alone. He sat on his couch and waited. He waited for Argos to come back from work, like he usually did.

The hours passed, Argos didn’t come. But he waited like he always did. He never moved an inch. Soon, 2 days had passed when Mr Plant realised he wasn’t going to come back, come back home. Not HIS home anyways.

What even was he without Argos? Argos was always a very distinguishable person. But all Mr plant was was a cold monster who tried to feel human emotions and failed. He didn’t have a distinct personality nor a unique trait that made him his own person.

He was just a mutated flower from a foreign void. This wasn’t meant to happen to him. Everything that had happen. He was mad at himself, he was mad at Argos but also wasn’t.

Not even once did he think to comfort himself through this. He only blamed himself, it wasn’t Argos’ fault, he only believed at what he saw.

There were too many thoughts racing in his mind, too many for him. He thought his head might explode with how much thoughts he was having. Too many, So so many...

Your fault

your fault

His hands gripped tighter against his throat. His breaths were beginning to cut short.

YOUR FAULT

YOURFAULT

YOUR-

He gripped tighter.

His vision began to grow faint and his thoughts started to drown out. His Head started to hurt in a good way, a comfortable way that didn’t hurt at all.

He gripped as tight as possible.

He was not longer breathing, gasping for air that wouldn’t reach his lungs. The only thing in his mind were the gasps and yelps. He tried to shut them up too.

After a bit his feet gave up, he fell down and closed his eyes.

“Goodbye Argos, I love you..” He knew nobody would hear that, and took his final rest.

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uzi-vents · 2 months ago

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tw major vent under cut‼️‼️

containing s3lf h3rm, su!cidal thoughts/attempts, self hatred, depressive episodes/depressive thoughts, e3ting disorder, dissociative thoughts/ dissociation, not feeling real? dehumanization? (not sure abt the last 3 sry.

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borderline-culture-is · 2 months ago

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bpd traits culture is for fucks sake can I stop splitting black on them im going to fucking kill myself

- 🪨

#borderline culture is #bpd traits culture is #tw suicide ideation #cw suicide attempt #- 🪨

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nicolethered · 2 years ago

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Joel tells Ellie about his shooting in 1x09 Look for the Light

#pedro pascal #joel miller #ellie williams #bella ramsey #the last of us hbo #tlou spoilers #the last of us spoilers #cw sui ideation #cw suicidality #cw sui attempt

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cashmere-caveman · 1 year ago

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Hanif Abdurraqib, it’s not like nikola tesla knew all of those people were going to die | Anne Carson, H of H Playbook | Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain | Franz Wright, Heaven | Toby Whithouse, shooting script for Being Human S1E1 | Franz Wright, Heaven | Erin Slaughter, I Hope My Salt Lamp is a Weeping Deity | Richard Siken, Straw House, Straw Dog & My Country: The New Age, Episode 16

image descriptions in alt

#my country: the new age #nam seon-ho #seo hwi #listen guys (gn). the worms have been festering the dots have been connected the illness contracted etc!! this is an exorcism attempt #bro what if we had both been suicidal for years bc we just wanted everything to be over but we repeatedly saved each others lives #even when we were enemies bc even when we were fighting for different visions of this country we were still *each others* countries #and what if in the end we realized we were never meant to be apart in the first place and gave each other permission to finally let go #but gave our deaths meaning by sacrificing our lives so that everyone else could live in a country of peace !!!!#basically what if we went from best friends to enemies to allies to enemies to soulmates and died in each others arms and we were both boys #their dynamic is so. i wanna eat so much dirt i tunnel right through the earth and end up in argentina.#god. GOD. im like 5 years late but is anyone out there still insane like me in pain like me etc hmu #wait maybe i should put some warnings on this bitch uhhh hold on #blood cw #death tw #suicidal ideation cw #<- just in case bc idk how else to tag for the uhhh extremely normal mindset of both of them #i hope thats it? if i missed sth let me know! also if u read this far u'll get to see the business tags i forgot at the top lol #cavetext #mctna #nam seon ho #poetry #seonhwi #caveweb #also u would not Believe the fucking sleuthing i went through to find the source poem for that erin slaughter quote jfc #thats what i get for keeping incomplete notes ig :/#also ive found the franz wright poem as both 'heaven' and 'the heaven' so ?? who knows

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ribesrubrum · 8 months ago

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under the mask of pride (fear rises as a guide)

//so i feel...honestly, a little guilty for how little i've been around as of late, especially since things are picking up drama-wise. irl debuffs aplenty will do that to you. but i wanted to get some writing out to kind of describe Carmine's mental state, so. here we are.

//fair warning: this fic is technically kind of offscreen rp in that it's at least canon that ren and carmine talked like this, though i'd greatly prefer it not be spread as a rumor or leak or something. but it also does talk about some heavy topics; namely very heavy self loathing, some mention of parental abandonment and abuse (heehoo headcanoning carmine's parents/why she's like this), mentions of bullying, self harm in the form of hair pulling/trichotillomania, and uh. ...look i'm not gonna beat around the bush, i don't wanna edgelord, i wanna treat this with respect but i also don't wanna sugarcoat it, this gets about as close to implying carmine was about to take drastic measures to alleviate her suffering as i'm comfortable with getting. the less implicit version of this warning will be in the tags. please uncollapse the tags before reading. dead dove: do not eat is in full effect here.

//this is going to be pretty heavy, and also stupid long. feel free to click if you're okay with handling that.

Carmine's listlessness has only grown as the days have worn on, she's finding. It doesn't help that her knuckles are still raw from punching her wall a day prior--she's thankful it seems like the wall fix went off without a hitch, and all she got was a rather stern talking to about making noise so late at night before the teacher that spoke with her went off. Cardigan's been sticking close to her side since Leavanny elected to stay near Kieran at least for a time, but even now, she feels pathetic for it.

Pathetic that she can't help her brother. Pathetic that she can't help her girlfriend, who simply wants to make sure that the whole club that they built together and maintained isn't destroyed because of Drayton's boneheaded move. If Carmine looked deep within herself, she'd be looking at Kiki's actions too, that he allowed this, that he's possibly setting himself up to lose everything. That Drayton's encouraging it, and she's been more on edge than ever and ready to tear someone apart for it. If she doesn't wind up punching him out when all is said and done, she's going to be very surprised.

Cardigan trills a bit from beside her, and she looks down to the flower-less Lilligant, pausing a bit as she looks down. She recognizes that trill, and knows that she's probably being concerning right now. Emotional regulation is still something that Carmine struggles with, even now, knowing that she can't and she shouldn't scream her feelings out to try and get people to understand, that yelling doesn't help, that you have to see other's perspectives. Even if sometimes, they trounce all over your own. Carmine looks down to Cardigan, giving the Lilligant a tired smile.

"...Sorry, Cardi. I know I'm probably not making your job very easy." It's soft in a way Carmine never usually is. In a way that Carmine never allows herself to be--she's all bravado and arrogance because for years, that's what kept her safe. That's what kept her and her brother safe, even if it clipped his wings and made everyone around her hesitant to approach either of them. It was safety, the thorns and briars that she metaphorically planted around herself, letting them spread where she walked and lashing them out at anyone who would even for a second think of hurting her. It was safety, it was lonely, but it was home.

...It's no wonder she likes grass types so much. The Lilligant's gaze only seems to get sadder when she says that much, gentle, leafy hands going to take one of her own as Cardigan stares up at her, as if trying to communicate something with those amber eyes that almost seem pleading. Carmine's hand trembles a bit, because once again she doesn't understand, she can't understand, why can't she--

Carmine hears footsteps, and immediately, her guard is up. She's immediately ready to go on the attack, in case anyone saw her, in case she has to defend being out for a walk in the Canyon Biome with her therapy Pokemon, something she's already received plenty of jabs about--but no. There's a familiar mop of blue hair, and that silly, dorky looking Orthworm is following them and waving with them, as Terry and Mio seem to take over where they left off. Ren's an idiot, in the bluntest of terms, but there's a sense of safety that comes with them. That they can see her, at her worst and most cruel, and laugh and let it slide off their back so easily. Because they were her age once. Her gender once, even, though that's largely irrelevant. They always seem so certain and keep their spirits so high, even if she's the only one they've trusted with some of their worries. And Carmine in turn, has trusted Ren with some of hers.

...They're about as disconnected from this entire situation as they can be, even though they met during that trip. It's as Carmine is contemplating going up to them and being a bother and just turning heel and walking away that the choice is made for her, as they turn around, start walking and see her--

"Oh! Miss Carmine, hey!"

She could walk away. She could just tell them to piss off and lash out, and destroy one of the few unconnected relationships she has with this entire mess, one of the few things that's genuinely hers. She could recede inside herself, lock herself away like she did after she reached her breaking point, when she nearly...

"Hey, Ren. Finally getting your nose out of those cameras?"

The barb is light, half-hearted at best, and could probably make someone deeply passionate a little upset at being teased. And yet Ren takes it in stride, laughing easily as they walk up, Lulu going to Cardigan and just kind of talking with the Lilligant for a moment. "You know it, girlie! Arc, all of these worms are doin' so well, they ain't overwhelmin' the environment nor gettin' overwhelmed themselves--everything's so perfect right now, it's really amazing! Ohh, I gotta tell you about some of the babies, they're just--"

For a brief moment, Carmine thinks she can just get away with Ren going on a hyperfixation ramble and forgetting her own worries in favor of focusing on the things her rival has accomplished. Because it is quite the accomplishment, even if Carmine's definitely harped on them for trying to downplay it before. But their gaze goes to Cardigan and Lulu, falling quickly and their words fading off as Carmine looks, and now everyone looks concerned.

Carmine's posture tightens as she realizes she can't get away with this so easily. She feels their gaze dart back to her, and she's already sure her expression is stormy, and...

"...I think that's enough about me." Fuck. Their voice has softened considerably, and she knows she's done for. "Miss Carmine, are you--"

"I'm fine, Ren." It comes out too sharp, too defensive, and there's a brief moment where she's hoping Ren will just walk away at that. She's shaking, she knows she is, and her gaze averts a bit only to feel not just Cardigan, but Lulu--that stupid, brainless worm--take her hands, wrapping them both in leaves and tendrils, and it feels disgusting and bitter and she wants to run and hide, she wants to tear her hands away--

"...Miss Carmine." Ren's voice sounds so soft, so...sad for a moment, and there's a pause as more footsteps can be heard--Carmine doesn't even bother to flinch, but she feels a tug on both of her hands as she opens her eyes, seeing Ren nod at both Pokemon before looking to her with a smile that's both soft and sad.

"Come on, Miss Carmine. Let's go somewhere else to talk, okay?"

---------------------------------------------

The trip back to her room is arduous, even though it barely takes more than fifteen minutes. Every agonizing second feels like a walk of shame, but she realizes something along the way. It's only so long because Ren knows their way around here like the back of their hand now; they know where people aren't, because they aren't some social butterfly who likes to help in every club. They take her through an easy but arduous path that leaves her alone in her head, and it takes a couple of second after Ren's stopped for her to stop too.

"...You must have a lot on yer mind to be makin' mistakes like this, Miss Carmine." Ren's voice is soft, non-judgemental, and they don't even flinch when she turns back to face them with something of a severe expression. It's the kind of care and kindness she doesn't deserve, she's sure, but as she unlocks the door to her room and ushers Ren and their Pokemon inside, it's something she finds herself internally thankful for.

Carmine's room is a mess, perhaps moreso than usual. Stress eating will do that, bags of chips and other sweet and savory alike strewn about. Cardigan doesn't even seem surprised, but Lulu, bless his stupid little soul, seems taken aback by it as he draws himself inside. She hears Ren's footsteps as they close the door behind them, a small sound escaping them as they walk in front of Carmine.

"You want some help cleanin' off that bed of yours?" Carmine looks over at her messy, disheveled bed, and it's many snacks and wrappers as well. It's an absolute Tepigsty, more than she'd ever allow anyone to see. She feels herself listlessly nod her head as she looks over to Ren, who's concern hasn't dampened even an inch as they move to help in an instant. She's thankful she's got a vacuum and that it's early enough in the afternoon that nobody's likely around the dorms; Cardigan and Lulu both assist as well as they help clear it off, at least enough to let Carmine sit down on it once they're all done.

Cardigan hops on the bed with Carmine as she sits down, and Lulu rests his head near Ren's feet as he gets himself comfortable on the floor, and Ren looks to her, finally broaching the topic, "Ya look like you got a lot on yer mind, Miss Carmine. You sure everything's okay?"

It takes Carmine a lot longer than she'd like to respond. Cardigan gently takes hold of one of Carmine's hands, gently petting it with her own leafy appendage. The eventual response she settles on is a bitter laugh.

"...I don't know." It comes out so soft and uncertain, it feels like she's a different person entirely when she says it. "I thought everything was fine. I thought...I don't know, I thought that everything would be okay. I really let myself believe that now that I made up with my brother, that everything would go back to some sort of normal, but..."

Carmine's voice pitches higher and higher with every word, and she finds herself shaking a bit. She can't even look at her rival right now, how pathetic can she even get?

"Oh, Carmine..." There's not even that weirdly respectful 'Miss' at the beginning of her name, and a part of her hates that, that she's being seen as sympathetic for even a moment when she doesn't deserve it, she doesn't deserve this, if she'd just trusted Kiki-- "Nothin' is ever that easy, but I remember how relieved ya were when Kiki actually bothered to respond."

"Yeah." Carmine confirms that much, listlessly, but a ghost of a smile traces her face. "...It really filled me with hope, for a second. That maybe things could go back to some sort of normal, that I could really see Kiki for all he is. It wanted to be seen and come into it's own, and I...I didn't know how to do that, but..."

"...But you wanted to try." Ren's words softly intervene. Carmine nods shortly after.

"I wanted to try. I still do. But it's...that big fight happened, and now everything's just...it feels like we're right back where we started."

Carmine's voice breaks a little bit, and try as she might to rein it in, it's harder to get back on track. At this point, she feels, she might as well just give up.

"...I don't know what to do."

Carmine's gaze stays down, because she can't look at Ren, she can't, she just can't. But Ren's words; soft, steady words, a contrast to the cold steel they loved so dearly, pour out none the less.

"...It's a tough position to be in, Carmine. Ya got your brother and it's undyin' need to win on one side, and ya got Miss Amarys tryin' her damnedest to hold everyone together on the other, yeah?"

"Yeah. And it's like--I don't want to destroy the relationship I have with my brother. I want to rebuild it, to let it come into it's own. But I...my beloved is right, even if I worry about saying it. She tries so hard to uphold the rules of the club, of this school, and these--these jerks keep sending her horrible, disgusting things for it. And for what?"

A quiet settles over the room, and she's sure Ren expects her to elaborate, but she doesn't. Not even she knows what, and she's sure Ren gets it by the time they speak up next.

"...I ain't gonna go makin' any assumptions, but...I don't even think I know the answer to that, Carmine."

It's soft, when Ren admits it. Sad, even. She can only imagine what their face is doing right now, and it gets Carmine to laugh a bit. Bitterly, wretchedly.

"Neither do--neither do I, Ren. And do you know how much that kills me?"

Carmine's voice pitch rises, and she feels her free hand drawing into her hair, Cardigan's trills of concern becoming more apparent as she tries to hop over and dislodge it--

"I love Kiki! I love Amarys! I love them both more than life itself and I--if I say anything at all, I'm going to hurt one of them. Both of them, even, maybe, whether I intend it or not! And the little Mandibuzzes on here, flying around and trying to hurt everyone in this school, they'll be on it in an instant, they'll--they'll hurt them both, they'll turn them both against each other, and I--if I do anything, they already know it's my fault from the start, that all of this is, that I was stupid and boneheaded and lied to my brother because I was scared it could've gotten hurt--"

"Miss Carmine."

"--and I told Juliana to lie, yes, I got so worried that Kiki would just get so excited and that Ogerpon could've hurt or done something worse to it, but then my grandfather told me to keep my mouth shut about helping Ogerpon and I--I didn't--"

"Miss Carmine."

"--And then it--it stole her mask, and I've never been more angry in my life at it, and it just--it keeps stomping on others feelings, and it won't believe anyone, and I don't know what I can actually do--"

"Miss Carmine, please--!"

"WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

Carmine's shriek practically causes her to lunge at her friend, the firm tone in that moment making her see someone else. Wide yellow eyes fiercely stare at bright blue ones, as Ren startles a bit at the ferocity in her tone. The quiet over the room is tense and uneasy, and Ren already sees a few strands got torn out because of it. They take a gentle breath in as realization hits Carmine, but she's still for a moment. Still as Cardigan trills with concern, as Lulu looks up with even more concern on his dopey little face, though he looks ready to hold Carmine back more than anything.

Ren's surprisingly quick on the uptake, at least, and they speak up again before Carmine can.

"Isn't that somethin' you should be askin' of yourself?"

Ren's words are confusing, and the confusion must be apparent on her face as they reach her ears. Ren gently breathes, and continues, "I mean it. You've been talkin' this entire time about Kiki this, Amarys that, and I ain't gonna disparage you for that. Sure puts any rumors of ya bein' self centered to bed, not that I believed 'em anyway. But..."

"What is it that ya want, at the end of it all? Isn't that a question that's come up even once for ya...?"

Carmine can't even believe what she's hearing.

"Why does that matter? I've taken what I wanted for years, I--"

"Okay, you hold on a second here." Ren's words are still soft, but there's a firmness to them now that cuts through her words like butter. "When did that stop bein' a question you asked yerself?"

"It doesn't matter--"

"It absolutely does matter? Girl, yer gettin' tugged in two different directions and ya sound like yer long past the end of yer rope."

"Why does it matter when I've been nothing but a selfish bitch this entire time?!"

And that startles Ren enough to actually get them to stop for a second, completely taken aback. Carmine's gaze goes downward, and she's shaking, horribly.

"Those anons were right, okay?! I ruined Kiki's one good friendship because I'm a bonehead, I'm a failure of a girlfriend who can't even help the girl I love so much with her anger and problems other than just being there like a useless cardboard cutout, I deserve this, all of it, even all of the hateful words and it would've just been so much easier if I had--"

Something stops Carmine in her tracks from speaking. Multiple of them, really. Cardigan's hands, for starters, wrapped firmly around one of her own hands; two of Lulu's tendrils wrap around the other, and even Carmine has to admit that she's surprised by how little an Orthworm's head seems to weigh as he rests his head on one of her legs with concern.

The final thing, that she didn't even hear, is Ren getting up and putting a firm, supportive hand on her shoulder, tiny as said hand is. When she actually gets a look at their face, they look like they're about to cry, and for a brief moment she wonders if she's just gone and ruined another friendship.

"Don't--don't you dare talk about yerself like that again, you hear me?"

Oh. That's not what she expected at all; Ren's voice practically trembles as they say that, and it hits something in her. Carmine's eyes well up with tears of her own, and she can practically hear herself sniffling.

"...I'm sorry, Ren." Her voice is so soft, so delicate, so fragile in the moment that she wonders if it's her own. "I'm...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm..."

"I know you are." Ren's voice softens from that point on, and their grip becomes a little easier. A little more slack, but still there. "When did ya stop seein' yerself as someone not worth considerin' the feelin's of, girl...?"

"...I don't know. It was...before that. Maybe when Amarys and Kiki fought that one time. I--I don't know." Carmine's voice is shaky as she struggles to keep herself together, and she feels Cardigan shift and pull her arm into a hug, and the tears start pouring down at that. She can't stop them, even if she's not a sobbing wreck with no dignity. Yet, at least. "...I don't want to lose anything else."

That gets a pause from Ren, who does their best to calm themself down. "Anything else...?"

"...My parents are divorced. My dad was...he was awful. Just a screaming, bumbling oaf who went from job to job while my mom stayed home and took care of us. Though she was...she was way more focused on Kiki..."

Ren listens carefully, nodding their head as Carmine continues.

"I haven't seen either of them in...years. We usually live with our grandparents, when we're not here. Last time I saw my mom, we got into an argument. I asked her why she stopped caring for me. Why she just...tried to leave me with him--"

"...She what?"

Carmine spares a quick glance at Ren's face, when they say that--practically seething with an anger they don't usually express. "...Yeah. She--she said she could only handle one of us, and that I was Dad's favorite, so..."

"Girl." Ren's doing their best to keep their tone level, but the anger doesn't leave. Hell, if anything, it mixes with the sheer unholy audacity of what they heard, leaving them flabberghasted-- "What the fuck is wrong with your mom?"

Carmine laughs, and while it sounds bitter, there's almost some mirth to it. "Yeah. Like I said. We got into an argument last time I talked to her. I told her I wanted an apology for her trying to abandon me, before Dad went and ran away. I...haven't spoken to her since."

"Carmine...what the fuck, that's so..."

A silence hangs over the room as Ren trails off, but Carmine breaks the silence after a few moments.

"...Between this, and the rest of the shit I dealt with at school...I...I didn't want Kiki to turn out like me." Carmine sniffles, tears still coming unbidden. "I thought you had to be tough and mean to make it, but I just...I wanted Kiki to grow up happy. I wanted it to have a better life than me. I was this bitter, mean girl, but I thought I could at least make it so my little brother--it'd have a chance at growing up to be a gentle hearted little dork who had something happy in it's life. But all I did...it all just amounted to...to..."

There's a few seconds more of sniffling before the dam finally breaks, and Carmine just starts to sob without an end. She's pretty sure her makeup is running down her face, if it hasn't been already; she finally just breaks, her tears pouring and pouring down as she sobs wretchedly and loudly, her hands finally being relinquished so she can try, in vain, to wipe those tears off. But still they come; the pain of so much more than a simple inciting incident, but still mostly that.

Ren uses their own free hand to wipe away the tears falling from their own eyes, as they just let her for a bit.

"...I want to stop hurting." Carmine speaks up, and Ren starts for a moment as they listen. "I want to stop feeling like the evil person that everyone thinks I am. But what if I'm just born evil, and there's no changing that...?"

"That's--" Ren speaks up, briefly, but Carmine speaks again and they let her get it out of her system.

"I want to make things better. I want to just know if it's all my fault, I want to know if I'm just--if I'm justified, in being unable to forgive Kiki for some of the stuff it did." Carmine sniffles again, wretched sobs still escaping her. "...I want to be able to be happy again, without feeling like I'm walking on eggshells. I want to make my girlfriend's pain go away--I want to make Kiki's pain go away, and fuck, maybe even Atlas' and some of the others. I want the world to just stop for a bit, at least so I can stop aching like this. I...I think I just want, more than anything, for someone to tell me I've suffered enough for this, or at the very least, that I just haven't grown up to become a little clone of Dad."

"...Is that so much to ask?"

The question is soft, full of despair, but it at least feels...somewhat good, to try and dislodge some of the thorns in her. It's painful and it feels dizzying, but Ren's hand remains steady, even if their own tears come down hard.

"...You're a teenager. A teenager shouldn't--you shouldn't ever have to ask that kind of shit of yourself." Ren's words are soft, with an empathy forged in the same shit they went through. Just without a depressive spiral and a shut-in phase. "You deserve to be happy, Carmine. You made a dumb, boneheaded mistake, but that doesn't mean you're evil. And it sure as fuck don't mean that you've gone and become your Dad."

Carmine pauses a bit, her sobs coming slower as she tries to listen.

"None of that shit yer askin' about, none of it's too much. But how's anyone else gonna be happy--how can ya share happiness with others if ya ain't gettin' happiness for yerself, y'know?"

"Because ya do deserve it. Whether ya want to admit it or not. Yer not evil, yer not your dad, you're literally a confused sixteen year old girl who should've never been made to feel like that."

It's shocking to hear, really. All of it is. Ren says it with so much conviction that Carmine almost believes it.

"...I don't want to talk anymore. I...I think I just want to...cry..."

"...Cry as much as you need, girl. I'll be here as long as you need."

"Don't--don't tell anyone about this, Ren. Please. Everyone has enough to worry about, and I...I don't want to put more on them. Please, I already feel bad enough burdening you..."

Ren manages something of a soft, warm chuckle at that. "...No worries, girl. What we talked about is stayin' in here, I swear on my life."

"...Thank you, Ren."

Carmine cries herself out eventually; by the time she's done, the two of them have shifted from the bed to the floor, bringing Carmine's mattress down to floor level so they could distract themselves until Carmine fell asleep. It's no easy fix, listening to a friend, but...if it makes the burden lighter, then Ren has no problem with it.

They were in a similar place many years ago with no one to help them, after all. It's the least they can do.

#carmine talks #pokemon irl #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #rotomblr #long post #pokeirl fanfic #drama stakes pokereality #cw suicidal ideation #cw self harm #cw abusive parents #cw emotional abuse #cw bullying #cw mention of attempted child abandonment #cw child abandonment #ask to tag #//that SHOULD encompass everything #//but if i have missed anything at all. please let me know and i will tag #//this is a long and very difficult ride i worked very hard on

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