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Agito

August 2016

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Aug. 1st, 2016

Yano

Totally Disconnected. And Random.

At some point, I felt ashamed and embarassed for no particular reason, didn't I? I also felt frustrated. It's the kind of frustration where you felt you were trapped inside your mind while someone else took control of your body and there was nothing to do but to watch everything unfold. Nothing truly unpleasant happened, but it's the thought of being able to do nothing that paralyses you and creeps at you. Because losing control is possibly one of the most dreadful thing in this world. And it happens a lot (sometimes unnoticed). It doesn't even matter if it's something mundane or irrelevant. It's the weight of feeling victim of something unwanted. Unwarranted.


'Don't mind the small stuff. Everything else is considered small.,' I believe that was something the old me would brag about to the crowd as I do the stupidest thing (I did a lot of stupid, stupid things). 'Don't problem the problem.'


Adult world is scary. I feel like I'm always trying to catch something intangible. And even when I just basically hid under the covers of my blanket and shut the rest of the world for 1 whole day today, it still felt as if I was rushing to something. Reaching forward. Chasing goals and wraiths. It's exhausting.


While I'm not as confident as when I was younger, I still have a dangerous mind. A cruel one. A selfish one. So i guess it can't be helped that I'm feeling a bit embarassed now. And a bit not myself. Because if I am harsh to people, I can be especially merciless to myself. I wish I can blame it on the rain, but I was honestly disconnected to the world I had no idea what it was like outside.


I know. Things like this will pass. I'll get over it. I should.


But I'm feeling particularly thoughtful... And if my thoughts were this disconnected to each other, imagine how my mind is to my corporeal self and my body to the rest of the world.


Do this a lot.

Retreat.


At least, when I dont like fighting or riding the tides of everyday life. Or when I'm genuinely lazy.



And while I got lost (in whatever world), there are still lotsa roads to try.

Jun. 22nd, 2016

Agito

GO UP

Tomorrow gets me higher.

I think I found something I didn't think I was already losing.


Inspiration


It feels like I was given another chance at life. I knew even then (before traveling to the West) that I wanted to get my gears turning again. I wanted to be moving. To be doing something different and radical and life changing. I wanted to have another goal. I wanted a purpose because I wanted to be continously pursuing something. I can't function with daily lives otherwise. I think having this trip to the U.S. gave me what I was missing and more than that. I saw another possibility. I saw a future I never thought possible but realized I wanted. Having been reacquainted to my relatives both in Hawaii and New Jersey made me feel so grounded, so connected, so alive. It made me feel somehow, if not totally, whole. I didn't realize I was feeling terribly lonely and weak. I didn't realize that I was feeling lost, at least a part of me.


Being graced with the company, love and generosity of people whom I shared blood ties, or of whom I shared a connection with felt fulfilling. This trip made me feel rested. Rejuvinated. Determined. It feels brilliant.


It feels exhausting, too, just thinking about the lengths of what I need to go through again to get what I want. I have never taken things so easily. I have never gotten to one place from the other without having to cross some demn effing 100th level difficulty bridge. I always needed to take the long route just because I didnt have the proper connection or money before. Exams are by no means an obstacle. It's something hardwork can get you through. But now I have acquired the proper equipment and level by sheer perseverance and slowly leveling in different terrains and parts of the map. it took a while... but the means to make another jump isn't lost.

I think.


And I'd be lying if I don't mention how I found that I apparently love guns. Even after a whole day from shooting at the range, the endorphins in my system won't go. I want to touch that Gloc and that Rifle again. I wanted the feel of metal on my cheek as I press the trigger. I don't condone gun violence. But I find I have this irrational desire for guns and ammos. They are sleek and beautiful. and powerful. One does not get to touch such power so easily after all. My heart pounds so much just thinking about the experience.


And I want to spend another time with my cousin. Deng.


But the gate will open soon and I can't afford to get more dramatic. I can't even afford to double check my grammar or my spellinga.

May. 26th, 2016

Agito

If it's you

Ahhh there it is again. That feeling. After so long, I'm enveloped once again by an irrational sense of giddiness. I can't remember the last time I was able to curve my lips to a full lopsided grin or the last time a swarm of butterflies have overtaken my core. I can't remember the last time there were bounces on my steps or the last time I believed things will get better. While I don't have any result yet, just "following through" made me encounter one thing I thought I would never want again. 'The reward of not being a coward'. And now is the time to finally take responsibility.


I'm sure the novelty will fade one day. I don't see this same joy sticking with me through the end... but a choice was made and all there is to do besides following through will be holding onto it with all I've got. I've decided to be responsible and own up.


I think at then end of the day, I was left with one thing to do and that was to play the cards I have while I have them. They are my strength and about the only thing i can offer. They haven't expired yet. They can still be appreciated. And if i think deeply about it, all roads just seemed to overlap. I was brought back to the path where I started... and now hands seemed to be reaching up and urging I take what's in front of me.


I refuse to be a coward. It seems I'm taking a gamble again and jumping onto something I dont know whether tis a grave or an oasis. But I think I'm sticking through with it and hope for the best that the people around me will understand.

Because it's not something I thought about recklessly or spontaneously. At least, not all of it.. And it is not something I chose without any difficulty.

May. 21st, 2016

One More

/This emotion may burn without a single purpose
But I'll speak its name./




Knowing what you want to do and actually having the strength to do it are different. They especially don't always come together. While this issue is already a pain in the ass, there's also 'doing something while not knowing if it's truly what you ought to be doing'. Now, I think this second dilemma is the more bothersome one. Is the door you're about to open truly the one that will lead you to that destination you desperately wanted to arrive at? Is it the solution to your problem  or just the path for self destruction?


I have thrown the dices yet again when I'm not even a hunderd percent confident that I should-- or if I wanted to do it. I'm not even wholeheartedly motivated. All I know is that I wanted to get moving. I need to get the gears turning. Another step. Another gamble. Another hit or miss. Just to get moving. Mohitotsu no. Mou ippai.


There's a place I'm searching for and all I know is that I'm not there yet. So I should get moving again. It feels hollow inside otherwise. There's a person I wanted to become as well and all I know is that I'm going to turn out into someone different if I don't take another step. It makes me feel truly very restless inside. It makes me mad during the silent hours. The thought hunts me so that it hursts inside. As if a hundred blades pierce through my chest repeatedly.


The truth is I'm scared... but I refuse to be called a coward. The truth is that I'm undecided... but the dices have already been thrown and there's nothing else to do but follow through. It's about the only thing I can do right now. I just have to enter the door that's been randomly opened. If I should take a wrong move, I guess all I need to do after that is to do my darnest to make it right. Right the wrong. Fix the mess. This fear, these crazy heart beats, this lump in my throat, this nasty idea that people might misinterpret my motives... all that I have to do is to swallow them and pretend they didn't exist in the first place. I'll just embrace them when I'm alone. All that matters at this point is following through. Another step. Embrace the gamble.


I just need to get moving from where I am. Didn't I already forbid myself never to get complacent? never to be stagnant? I'm not 'there' yet.


Seriously, though, my heart is already in Japan. I can't wait to see the cherry blossoms and walk the place I consider as my 'Mecca'. A year is too long a wait. I feel as though everything I ever did is for that one moment when I finally get to enjoy Nihon. There's also my trip to Hawaii and New Jersey. I shouldn't get ahead of myself or get too excited. That moment where I have to make a decision, it will come soon. It will come earlier. Now's not the time to be distracted. Dang, I have a lot of distractions, honestly.



I think I've been lazy again. And over indulging. A hedonist to the core.


But I guess it was precisely because I've been through this hedonistic period that I am now willing to take another risk. Why there's this hand that pushes me to move again... A time for a new arc.


Mou ippai.


The things is, I've tried the doors I perceived will direclty bring me to where I truly wished to be... but fate was a bitch that wouldn't let me enter them. (not a single one of them). All attempts led to failure.
So I'm going to be stubborn. I'm going for a door I'm not sure about. A random path. One I never once saw myself taking willingly. Will it serve as a detour which will get me to that place I dream of or will it be a path that will make me lose sight of my goal?


Doesn't matter.



Just to get moving. Just to take a step. There really isn't a need to think so much. All that matters is making it right in the end.
Tags:

Lacrimosa 1

A/N: A ficlet for a friend.



1. Flying


*


I remember I was flying. I was surging up, cutting through air, and defying gravity.

I remember feeling so ecstatic... That in that so short a moment, and for the very first time of my life, I was genuinely happy.

I was very happy.


But then I was falling.

And it happened so quickly.


*

I don't remember anything else after that. Everything turned black and all the pain was suddenly gone.

People said I tried to get up from the ground even after my fall. They said I wanted to repeat the act. They said I wanted to fly again.

That even when my bones were all mangled up and when there was blood everywhere, my deliriious state got myself up from the earth so I can jump again.


I believe them.


*

The next time I open my eyes after my fall, I was in a place with ceilings of white.


It wasn't a bad place. It wasn't good either.


But it was where I met him.


--Ian

Apr. 12th, 2016

Agito

The Start of Eras

THE START OF ERAS

PART 3 of THE PRINCE AND PAUPER

Summary: His addiction had to start somewhere. Jim purred against John’s mouth. He wished he could do that every day. Tasting. He finally found his omega.

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: Jim Moriarity x John Watson




A/N:
This Part3 is dedicated to nosetothewind94. Pls view nose’s wonderful art in this LINK : http://archiveofourown.org/works/1356790.

I stopped writing for a long, long time. I can't even give any excuse. It was seeing nose’s art about my Dance of Wolves that made me want to pick up the pen again and write Johnlock. Seriously, I owe nose. ^^
This fic is still not beta’d. All mistakes are on me. On my knees*
(I hope this one does not feel rushed.)

I feel so out of practice... but then again, we don't need practice in expressing love ^^











/If it feels good,

tastes good,

It must be mine,

-The Emperor’s New Clothes. /

*

It was raining heavily when Jim Moriarty found him.

Jim’s heart would pound ecstatically whenever that fateful day crosses his mind in remembrance. That was how it was. Jim found him. Jim did not meet him.  ‘Meet’ seemed so shallow a word to describe his relationship with John Watson, after all. Nothing relating to his John could be trivial, could mean so little, or could be undervalued. That Jim found him implied a gratifying sense of belongingness and ownership. Because John wasis his. If Jim could, he’d garnish the very ground his little blonde omega walks on with flower petals, diamonds and gold and desiccated limbs. It would have been wonderful.

It was raining heavily when Jim Moriarty found him. The dark clouds had cloaked the whole city of Scowall and the moon was scarcely visible. He remembered the cold clinging dreadfully on his skin and the heavy drizzle swallowing all forms of sound as the droplets hit the cobbled ground. Back then, Jim found himself in a territory he didn’t recognize. He had snuck out again. He had been exploring the dark underground passages of the castle like how he’d always done when he found a path he hadn’t bother to take before. It led him to one of the most unsavoury areas of Scowall. It was the bit the City does not recognize and thus shamefully hides from the other neighbouring places. Jim had known it immediately that he found the place. Even the rain couldn’t wash out the foul smell of poverty and crime. He remembered how he thought it was the very ground where the Jim Moriarty would truly start. His playground. The place will be his stage. Everyone starts with baby steps after all. What he had not known at that point was that his discovery would also lead him to the wolf who would change the course of his life.

Jim wound his way through the dirty alleys. He explored. He marvelled. He sniffed his nose in disgust every now and then. He inhaled the scent of the place and drunk all the details his dark eyes light upon. He walked and lived the place until he was dead sure he had a map imprinted inside his head, until he could see a vivid imitation of the paths he threaded on whenever he closed his eyes. He had, in any case, decided he would own the place. He would be the true King of that forgotten and forsaken residence. The whole town would smell of him sooner or later. He had these ideas inside his head.

He had plans.

He threaded his way very cautiously, insidiously. His age was a disadvantage. While nothing was impossible, he found it bothersome to skirt around when he could’ve executed things far more efficiently the way he pictured things inside his head. He needed to be careful and observant. He wasn’t that powerful yet. And so Jim was being sly and stealthy with the shadows of the walls serving as his cover when he finally walked in on a brawl where upon his young John Watson was engaged with.

It was not instantaneous. He had not immediately known then that he’d want a claim on John Watson. It wasn’t love at first love or some similar shit.

Jim watched closely, eyes, for some irrational reason, trained on the blonde boy with a knapsack who had his back against the wall. It was a very reckless predicament to find yourself in when you are outnumbered by older and bigger men… or by men who lived in the place you find yourself cornered in. It was clear as day to Jim that the blonde kid did not live in this place of the City.

Jim held himself and watched. The blonde boy’s eyes were darting around, clearly searching for an escape. It was of no use. He was absolutely cornered. There was no use calling for help as well—not when the rain seemed to want to pour heavily and eternally. Not that anyone who might notice would want to intervene in any case. They were in that part of the City where crime probably was just a breeze in the wind. The boy, he was younger than Jim. He was at the age where wolves first discover their gender. It was difficult to ascertain the blonde’s gender from his distance, not when the humid air had a permanent stench to it. Jim already knew the boy was a were. His instinct never failed him.  It was a gift. Even before the evidence was under his nose, he would know if someone was human or not. There was something about the boy that was especially wild and steady and solid. Jim found himself bracing with the uncontainable anticipation. There was something about the boy that was totally captivating. He was excited for a reason he could not explain. He was engrossed with witnessing how the scene would unfold.

The boy’s clear blue eyes were glaring defiantly at his assailants. He swiped at his forehead to clear his damp fringes off his eyes. His lean arm was trembling. The poor kid was unmistakably frightened. He had every reason to be. He seemed so ordinary. So little in the face of his adversaries. Even so, Jim watched him clench his fist on his sides and grit his teeth like how a four legged form would bare its fangs. The boy opened his mouth and snarled. He said something to his assailants which Jim could not make out of the torrential rain.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough.

Jim wanted to know what the exchanged words were. Badly.

And then it happened. The blonde little wolf leapt and practically threw his whole weight at one of the men. The brute fell on his back, head hitting the cobbled ground. The boy was already swinging his fist in the air, eyes savage and intent of hurting. He swung at his opponent’s face, one fistful after the other. He was fighting recklessly and beautifully. But then the other man who had been initially frozen by the surprise attack caught his bearings. He kicked at the boy’s side, throwing him off the beaten man. The boy fell on the ground with a thud. He howled in pain and clutched at his side, wincing.

The other man approached the boy but before he could lay another finger, Jim Moriarty was already on him. Out of nowhere. Jim struck with precision. Jim was older than the blonde boy but then Jim was also younger and smaller than the two attackers.  There was no way he could’ve defeated anyone of them with bare strength. Not that he even considered it. Jim’s lips were curved into a predatory smile as he felt his blade pierce through flesh, onto the man’s side. He trembled in excitement as he slid his dagger deeper, eyes fluttering, feeling the organs rip open. It was so easy, killing a man. He had not known before… but it was so very easy as he imagined. He also didn’t know it could feel so exhilarating, so fulfilling.

He could have ended one there and then.

Jim back pedalled and tore himself from the human brute before the other could clutch at him reflexively. Jim didn’t want the man’s dirty hands on him. He watched, pleased, as the man fell on his knees, hands trembling and fear sculptured on his old face as he started down at the knife sticking on his torso. It was raining, but Jim was sure there were tears on his eyes.

“I wouldn’t pull the knife off if I were you,” Jim stated matter of factly, head tilting to his side and eyes with detached interest. He found it fascinating, the glint of his blade under the moonlight and the slow dribble of blood as it mixed with the rain.

The other man the boy had initially beaten has eventually gotten up and ran to his comrade’s side. He looked between his accomplice, the dagger sticking out and then at Jim. His eyes were wide with terrified, bewildered recognition.

“Hmm,” Jim hummed, his smile extending to his eyes. “You aren’t dumb are you?”

“You… you’re…”

Jim was aware of the shuffling behind him. Ahh yes. The boy was already recovered. He glanced back at him and saw the boy witnessing the exchange of conversation.

“Well,” Jim drawled, “do you not need to take your friend somewhere?”

Jim did not bother with the grown men any more than necessary. They were inconsequential. One was likely to die soon anyway, what with his guts being ripped open, and Jim could always find them later if he wanted to. They had this foul smell you can always trace when needed. He turned his back on them, confident that there would not be any attack anymore, and instead placed his attention to what mattered most. Then again, even if the men did plan on anything underhanded, the blonde boy was apparently already looking out for him.

Jim stared down at the boy with renewed hunger. He kind of felt irked that the other wasn’t paying any attention to him. He also felt moved that the boy kept glaring warily on the men and watched them shuffle away. It was only when the men’s footsteps have all but faded within earshot that the boy started to properly look at him.

“Turning your back on them,” the boy muttered irritably, “are you stupid?”

Jim couldn’t help it. The edge of his lips twitched. That wasn’t what he expected.

“That was dangerous,” the boy further admonished.

Yes, Jim couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the endorphins or the rush of adrenaline from the earlier scuffle. His smile spread onto his face before he exploded into a full blown laughter.

Dangerous.

Dangerous, he said. That really was funny. Didn’t the boy just see him gut someone with a dagger? There was a sense of giddiness in Jim as he shook with mirth, his shadows looming over the boy who was still kneeling on the ground, hands on his sore side. Jim laughed as the boy continued to scowl at him. He laughed as the boy looked at him with eyes of naked curiosity.

But then Jim noticed how the boy’s nose finally twitched in apprehension, noticed how the boy’s guard started to build up against him. This boy was a wolf after all. He’d have caught and recognized the coppery smell of blood. Jim knew when the other started remembering, albeit belatedly, that Jim was the stranger who planted a knife in a grown man’s torso without any form of remorse. Jim saw his reflection on the younger boy’s blue eyes. There was a manic glint in Jim’s eyes even as his lips were curved to a smile.

The boy held his breath. Good instinct, Jim thought.

“Your name,” Jim inquired sharply the soonest that he reined in his butterflies of laughter.

“John,” the boy answered promptly, staring at Jim with levelled gaze. Scared. The boy had his hands clenched into fists now. Jim wondered if it was a habit whenever the boy thought he would engage in a fight.

“John,” Jim carefully tasted the name in his tongue.

“T—thank you,” John said to him. John’s eyes never strayed away even when Jim was fairly sure that the latter was fighting the impulse to avert his eyes. The boy’s shackles were raised. Good instincts, Jim marvelled yet again. But also very polite, the boy was. John still recognized him as his saviour.

Good, Jim thought to himself. All good.

“Aren’t you going to pay me, in exchange for saving your life?” Jim tested. He extended a hand. He was gratified when John took it. Jim was taller than him.

“I don’t have money on me,” John answered honestly. “Didn’t you think I’d have given them what they wanted and stayed away from trouble instead?”

“Your knapsack,”

“There’s nothing of value,” John cut in hastily and defensively, teeth flashing in the dim light.

Jim mused. It was still raining but when he folded his arm and sniffed at the hand which John touched, he caught a trace scent. There was suddenly an indescribable ache in his stomach. John was an omega. The smell was almost washed away just as quickly but there was no mistake in its raw, maddening sweetness. This John was an omega and he had just had his first heat. Jim caught all of that from his scent. It all made sense now. Jim didn’t have to wonder about the encounter. It also explained the boy’s constant glaring and impossible sense of guardedness. This wonderful boy was an omega. Jim wanted to moan. But then he almost wanted to howl. He remembered how those men have hurt him.

“I… I really have to go,” John ventured.

More in AO3 LINK HERE

Apr. 8th, 2016

Leap through time

Tell Me

Tell Me


Summary: Orga's heart is unsettled. Mikazuki revalidates things for both of them.

Notes: First part of a 2-part short fic. Just a form of expression. Because such emotions cannot be contained and must thus be put to writing. Not yet beta'd so all forms of errors are on my neck. Have only just started writing this a month ago after a long, long while.

Really could not think of a working title. All I got were these feelings and ideas. ^^ I blame the gap between my actual writing and posting on renovati who's supposed to beta for me but never did. lol.


AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6493333



~*~



/ Tell me what to do next
Tell me who to kill next
I have decided it on that day
I'm betting everything on you /


His back felt hot. Even bare, the heat clung onto his skin like an invisible smoke, wrapping around him with suffocating grasp. A line of sweat trickled down his spine as he grabbed a towel from the desk in front of him and wiped his face. He rubbed methodically, the muscles on his arms stretching languidly. He was conscious of the heavy gaze behind him. A gaze he was yet to learn how to ignore. It was a calling that always beckoned him to surrender. He shook his head, shaking the droplets of sweat from his hair, shaking his uneasy thoughts out of his head. He could not prolong it any longer. He must address the uneasiness of his heart else the younger boy will notice.

Orga turned around and finally met Mikazuki's gaze. The raven haired boy's dark eyes were steadily and unflinchingly trained onto his lighter ones'. Steady. Searing. Watching. Mikazuki was always watching him.


And if Orga wanted to be honest with himself, he'd say he revelled in it. It made him feel glorious.

In the dingy, old room that smelled of metal and echoed with the steady humming of machinery, Orga felt at home. In this cramped excuse of a place that's barely lit, Orga felt protected. For there amidst the ratty bedsit, sat Mikazuki who looked exceptionally beautiful and strong and Orga felt his heart being stroked knowing that only he can see Mikazuki like this. He has lost count of how many times he had seen Mika naked as he is now but he still marvelled at the other boy's chiselled torso. The blanket lay atop the Gundam pilot's thighs, barely so, hauntingly so. The rise and fall of Mikazuki's chest was hardly visible in the dark.

"Orga, you're staring," Mikazuki said.

Orga could imagine a trace of a smirk gracing Mika's supple lips. The Tekkadan leader had his gaze fixated at the younger's boys breathing. Even with the sweet exertion they've just undergone, he was a bit irked that Mikazuki has recovered already. The signs were gone. The evidences that he had just had Mikazuki come undone beneath him. That Mikazuki was his. They were all gone. He wanted to change that. Today after all, was special. They have the whole of today for themselves.

Orga glanced up. Mikazuki's gaze never faltered nor strayed away from his. He felt desire stir at the bottom of his stomach. He dropped the towel on the floor and took long, quick strides, closing the gap between him and the other boy. When he was close enough to loom over the Gundam pilot, Orga became aware of it: Mikazuki's honest hunger. Mikazuki was amazing. He was always taking a step ahead of him. Orga felt compelled to keep the lead.

He bent down and engaged Mika with a deep, open mouthed kiss. The younger boy responded fervently giving as good as he got. Orga tasted Mikazuki's grin in the kiss. Mikazuki, in return, drank him with the same fervour. They were always good at this. They were fucking excellent at this. There were times when it scared Orga about how insanely well and delicious they fitted together. It also ironically, thrilled him. He knew that what he and Mikazuki had was not something that could easily break... But it was because they both know their relationship could withstand anything that makes Orga terrifyingly frightened. He didn't want to see how deep fate could push it. It was this fear that causes Orga's steps to falter. Why his heart was not at ease.

It's probably the one thing he could never withstand. Them breaking.

Orga climbed and kneeled on the bedsit with Mikazuki's thighs in between his legs. He swiped his tongue on the roof of Mika's mouth, never breaking the kiss. He savoured the younger boy's warmth against him. With his hands tightly buried into the other's raver hair, Orga helped himself and devoured the treat that was of Mikazuki's mouth.

Mikazauki was strong and beautiful. Mikazuki was also insatiable. Orga could feel the evidence of the younger boy's arousal behind the blanket. Orga purposely hovered atop Mika's thighs and avoided contact. He wanted to have the illusion that he was in control. He also wanted to see Mikazuki completely destroyed under his touch.

The Gundam Pilot purposely dragged his nails on Orga's shoulder blade, beckoning. Orga hissed in response. Mikazuki took this as his chance to gain the upper hand and instead bit the side of Orga's chin. Orga glanced down only to see that Mikazuki's eyes were staring at him even as the younger boy lapped his tongue over the sore site. While Orga may have closed his eyes in the heat of their passion, Mika always had his eyes on him.

It was eternally constant..., Mikazuki's eyes on him.

And Orga needed it.

But this time, when both of them are sweaty and naked and hard, he wanted Mikazuki to close his eyes. Orga wanted to be the one who's looking at him. He wanted to be the indestructible wall that propels Mika to lose control.

Mikazuki shifted his legs underneath the blanket and with deft movements, pushed Orga into the bed. Orga should not have forgotten that the bastard was also agile and strong.

Mikazuki stared down at him.

"Orga, tell me what to do next," Mikazuki stated solemnly. His expression was the same as when he first said it many years ago when they were kids and the same as the many times he had said it during the early voyage of Tekkadan.

"Mika..."

"What do I do next?"

Orga bit the corner of his lips until he drew blood. Mika continued to loom unblinkingly above him and patiently waited for an answer. His eyes were dark and stern. Orga tried his best so his face won't show... so that his walls won't crumble.

"I...," Orga started. The Tekkadan leader wanted to avert his eyes and avoid Mikazuki's deep, penetrating eyes but he failed. He could never for the life of him ignore Mikazuki's gaze. He felt his chest being crushed.

Looking at Mikazuki in the eyes, Orga sucked a deep breath and answered.

"Suck me."

Mikazuki gave him a gentle smile for answering truthfully. He reached for Orga's hands and eased them open. Orga did not realize how he had closed his hands to fists so hard that his blunt nails left marks on his palm. Mika then guided Orga's hands so that they were resting on his raven hair before proceeding to swallow Orga's arousal.

It did not miss Orga how Mikazuki answered his unasked question.

/Orga, what do I do next?/

Always waiting for Orga…

Mikazuki was still with him.

Orga felt embarrassed with how his heart was not at ease lately.

They had it all wrong, thinking how Mikazuki needed Orga. It was Orga who relied on Mikazuki so impossibly and exceedingly much.

Mar. 5th, 2016

Saber

Erased

She got stabbed on the back. In that brief second's tick, the ragged pieces have come together. Everything came crashing down on her, among which is the reality that everything she's ever known was brittle and nothing but a sliver of hopeful imagination created by false sense of comfort and belongingness. It was all mucking fake.

She got stabbed in the back and yet it was her who has turned to a criminal. Her psycho pass exceeded the norms. She was above level of the mindset as that of people who are causing shooting sprees. She pivoted on her heels to look at the man she has trusted and treated as a family. She felt disdain and disappointment. With the knife still sticking on her back, she knew she'd have to cut ties with this man she has considered a family. After all, if this person couldn't give her the benefit of the doubt and the decency to talk to her personally about matters about her which seemed to have been bothering him, then there was no point in maintaining any sort of relationship. It wasn't even worth of friendship. It was as simple as that.


She got stabbed in the back, and as the blood slowly dripped down her spine, she made the resolve to yet again close another door. He was nothing but an imagination as well. Perhaps he wasn't the person she thought he was. Perhaps all those times they've spent and conversation they've shared were all fake and the sense of closeness was nothing but a mirage.


She got stabbed in the back. She knew when to apologize. She knew when to respect her elders. But she also knew about keeping integrity and never allowing such acts of betrayal. Her psycho pass rises to a thousand. She kept the knife digging on her spine and savoured yet another mistake of placing trusts.


He wasnt as close as a father. But she at least thought she could be an extension of a family.


She wanted to puke.
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Oct. 21st, 2015

Yano

Care given at the patient's best interest

Verbal consent. One of the most basic things we, who work in the medical field, live by. I'ts drilled to our brain cells. it has become part of our instincts. If a person has the fucking capacity to decide, we fucking get the consent before anything else! Unless medically necessary!!


I rather think what happened was not a medical necessity.


I, for the life of me, can't understand how a person could act on my behalf without my effing consent. The phrase "on my behalf" would also connote that it is what I would prefer had the decision been given to me. For my best interest? God, did that person not think I'm capable of making a fucking decision? That act. I feel raped, intruded, violated, stepped over. I felt as if i was treated without courtesy. It is, simply, none of that person's business!.


I cant understand how the few people I chose to interact with would always feel that they ought to decide or do things for me when they know so little. What happened was a realization. I've been surrounded by people who thought it wise to do things for me or want me to do things they think are right or would be the best.


For the best, my ass. I'm not in a sorry state that I cant do what I want to do. Have I been so passive lately or so carefree that it makes people think they ought to take the reins for me? Or dye me a color they thought would fit me better than my own choice? Did he or she, for a moment, forget that I'm a bloody adult and consents to whatever it is I chose to pursue in life?


Peace was already just around the corner. I was floating on my little cocoon of comfort! That simple act pulled me back and off the clouds. Did he or she not want me to be okay and want things to be constantly rolling? Why drag up something that's already dead or an old news? That act of "acting on my best interest my ass" was simply an act painting me as a bullied person who didnt have her own choices in life. Did I need taking care of,? I feel terrible at my choice of people lately. One effing single moment I had the lapse and poured out my concerns long ago, and he or she takes it to herself to act on my behalf in the middle of the Quiet xxxxxx days to the future.


It makes me want to cry of bloody frustration. That one time I got out of my room and try to act like normal people!


If I'm not getting out of my room, it's a choice. It doesn't entirely mean that I'm undergoing a serious situation or in a depressive mood. If I skipped lunch, it's choice. Im not going to starve myself to death. If I am friends with other people they think aren't right for me, it's a choice. Whether he or she thinks, it's a poor choice, it's none of his or her business to intrude upon. Advice or a talk? those can be appreciated if duly concerened. If I decided I didnt feel like I wanted to socialize, it's a choice. Maybe I just liked the warmth of my room and didnt like the cold outside. If I decide in the future to try a weed cake, it will be my choice as well.


I have a voice I can use when I do need help. And if at one point, I poured out some secrets, it isn't a free pass to intrude upon my business or act or decide for me. I'm having enough of this passivity and being carefree. I just keep feeling betrayed in the end. I have enough of this expressing stuff to people. It just keeps being thrown back at my face.


This. Writing. It's the only thing I can turn to safely when things inside my head go bad.


At the end of the day and as a conclusion of this event, I only have one word for it:


Disappointed.



I am utterly disappointed. In people. And in myself for my choice of people.

Sep. 1st, 2015

Leap through time

When I go Elsewhere. and of Letting Go

"We are all rowing a boat of fate
The waves keep on coming and we cant escape,
But if we ever get lost along our way,
The waves will guide you to another day--"


It's frightening--getting used to losing things, no matter how little of worth or precious you might view them as. At the end of the day, you view that which something you've lost as your own. Your possession. Something you may have considered part of you. Something you irresistibly, recklessly or absolutely cling to. And for me who have a hard time letting go, the toll is a hundred times worse.

It's crippling.

I once lost my grandmother's memoir: her ring she secretly gave me without telling her own daughter and children before she died. I was young and immature at that time. At one point, I needed money for tuition and had no other choice but to sell that ring. I wasn't able to get it back in the end. To this day, I dream of that ring and of my grandmother. It had taken me more than a month before I'd stop having nightmares about losing that ring since my grandmother died. I regret it to this day (even 8 years forward) and will probably continue to do so till I die. I still think about it during the quiet.


I once held someone very precious to my heart. Wings. No matter the relationship I had at college, I couldn't forget about that person. In a way, I clung and let the unspoken feelings hold me back. It took me seven years before I would stop seeing Wings as my dead star. In the end, that's all he would be: a dead star. A childhood dream.


Recently, I had to give up Mordry. The whole night till morning I cried that day. Every night I would think of him and mourn and cry even just a little bit. And everyday I listen to AKMU's Anyong song, I would reminisce so heavily I go into paradigm shift and lose contact of the world. I go inside my mind and torture myself with memories.


Losing my focus or losing myself---


It is something other people don't understand. I have a lot of reasons when I go Elsewhere--when I lose focus--when I suddenly drop them from my attention. My mind is never quiet. I constantly think. I go back and forth. I don't do it intentionally --it just that perhaps my mind has other pressing matters (compared to them.)

I take time with a lot of things especially the ones I can't let go of. I will eventually--> leggo. But it has to be on my own terms. Coz no matter how people give their advises or tell me otherwise, my stubborn mind will refuse to register their voices. Their voices will mean nothing but just songs whose lyrics I didn't actually listen to. My mind has to accept on its own terms and this will often mean revisiting stuff and memories hundreds of times, replaying the do's and don't and the bad and good and the what could've been and the what fucking went wrong.

So that stolen necklace and pendant in Brussels? Even if the value of its money isn't much-- coz in the end it's just material and it's something I can buy again in the future if I did want to--it will probably weigh more in my heart-- simply because it was MY possession and the manner how I lost it was vile and frustrating. I will hold grudge and continue to pray for that kid snatcher's demise. I don't forgive so easily when something is deliberately done against me. While I tolerate and forgive a lot of things, I'm so terrible at forgetting. I hold grudges.

It's an effort--being kind when my ticks are rattled or when a premeditated act is done against me. I can mucking kill. I guess.


So when I go Elsewhere and have unintentionally dropped focus of the people around me, I'll most probably utter and apology but I wont sincerely mean it when they force me to promise not to do it again. That's one thing they have to understand.

I know they fucking won't.

They can't understand that unless I'm genuinely held captive, it's an effort to pay attention because my mind will always come up with more interesting or pressing concerns.

So..

It's frightening--getting used to losing things, no matter how little of worth or precious you might view them as.


and this year, I have already lost too much it doesn't surprise me anymore. I hold on and wont let go but I'm getting used to it: losing things. One after the other. I have come to a point where my legs won't listen anymore and refuse to chase after which that I have lost. My hands wont grab or reach forward. I am getting used in accepting things one by one. One shit after the other.


Even when my mind will freaking save all of them memories of losing and autoplay them randomly.


Just a habit I need to break, -->getting used to losing stuff (i reckon)

but

that bit about going Elsewhere? I think not. that paradigm shift and my mind's never resting phase? They are my haven.


My sanctuary.zzz

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