Tuesday, September 18, 2018

untitled - 1

I've practically abandoned this blog, huh? Haha. I've gotten a bit too apathetic to my liking. Sorry about that.

Looking at the archive, the last thing was that SINGLE post on January earlier this year? Honestly I thought it was way older lol. I remember I wrote that trying to melt some of the ice engulfing my heart (hence the snow) but I guess it didn't work out much? Somehow it ended as a deathfic, quite literally, lol.

Since then? Not much. Though I admit I'm quite fond at looking at old archives when I feel I can't write. Those older archives, while horrible themselves, kind of proved that I still had something in me. Unlike now. I'm only rambling like this because I'm anxious as hell. Not because I finally found something to write. Nah. Would be another hundred years early.


I guess while I'm at it, let's talk about... stuff.

Since the end of last year, I'm delving into a new fandom: butai. As in stageplays. Mainly with ikemen-filled ones. This is quite an improvement, don't you think??? I've moved on from 2D to 3D! (or 2.5D, it's the same for me) I'm having a clearer picture of my own type! .......though, I must admit it's getting further from local men looooool

I'm lonely. I don't interact much with my friends in the first place, and now that there's no classes where we see face-to-face and get into conversations naturally, I practically have no one to talk to lol. I mainly just chat with one person, a friend in arms who jumped into butai together with me. That's not healthy, I knooow, but what to do?? I'm not the type to just hit "hi let's talk" with random friends. With most of college friends, I tend to automatically try to be the good me, you know? I'm the reliable, though sometimes childish friend. And no, I can't stick to that image right now, wow. While with other internet friends... I don't have any courage to actually make friends with them. I know I always appear to be the know-it-all and that's annoying. So I prefer not to talk to much lest I show off my annoying side. To family? I need to appear okay, okay? Everything is okay at home. Even when it isn't, I need to make it appear okay. Home is where I can feel at home, I can't ruin it with unnecessary worries. I need to feel okay, that I'm handling everything okay, when I'm home.


Aah. You know what? I know perfectly well that everything is in me. I can easily change the situation if I were a bit braver to step outside my comfort zone. I know. I'm trying to reach out to one friend I used to talk to in college, trying to make myself talk more. But it's so hard to let go of the good-reliable-friend mask I'm wearing. I'm not okay. I can't be reliable. I need help. I need motivation. But every time I try to step out and admit I'm weak, wow it's so shameful that I just reach that persona back. Everything was so much easier when I acted like I could do it.

(Actually, I know the act had been chipping away from me as time pass by, pretty sure everyone in college already how ugly I was by the course of the third year.)

(It's just me who doesn't want to let go of the delusion.)

(I hate myself.)


I'm not okay.

Sometimes I wonder why I stopped going to that psychologist sensei in Japan. It was much easier to talk to strangers, plus I know he wouldn't judge.


As time goes by, I got uncomfortable under his gaze.

I got scared.

What was I scared of? The possibility of him thinking I'm just an edgy girl who got all emo and deluded herself about having a mental illness, or scared I will appear as weak in his eyes?

(I hate myself.)

-------don't look

Thursday, January 4, 2018

[Orific] Deep Snow

A/N: Happy new year!

My first memory of that day was white snowdrops slowly falling onto me.
I think it was deep into the night judging from the absence of other noises, but strangely enough, I didn't register the coldness. Even though it should have been freezing. I was silent as I laid there on the soft bed made of snow, gazing blankly at the snow petals. It was so pretty. It was mesmerizing. Had I ever seen something as majestic before? No, not really. A scenery as beautiful as this would certainly leave a mark in my memories, yet I could find no such thing. Ah, yes, this was the first. 
And then I blinked. 
"Yo. Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."
A figure. He—or at least I thought it was a he—wore a black cape that shielded his eyes, I could only found his delicate lips and sharp chin from down here. Who? I tried to think with my dull brain, questioning my mute senses about his arrival. I didn't know if I didn't catch him coming my way, as deep in a trance as I had been, or if he had been very silent when he approached me. 
"Hey, hey, you can at least look a bit more surprised, you know," the figure spoke again as he crouched down. He put his chin on one hand, as though he was bored out of his mind as he peered down. "You're no fun."
I blinked.
"Heh, I suppose you're too far gone, huh? This won't even hurt then."
My eyes followed him as he straightened his back with a little heave, as he pulled out a huge scythe seemingly out of nowhere, as his small lips curved beautifully into a smirk. When he readied his scythe, though, for a milisecond his cape was pulled back and I could spot two sparkling crimson eyes. It was then I understood. Not with my dull brain and mute senses, no. I understood with my whole soul.
He was my Death.
Such a long-awaited reunion. Too bad it would be gone in another second, don't you think? But I was satisfied, I had no complaint. At the last moment, I was able to stretch my own lips into a small smile too.
Hello, Death.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017


Father, Father, listen!
Today the little bird left its nest
And the pink petals went away
And the stones rolled down the hill
And the people laughed terribly loud
And the papers littered my table
And the sky is vast

Father, Father, answer!
Is the Earth warm enough?

into the spring storm

In the spring storm,
I hear a lullaby—sweet and soft
Look, the trees dance slowly to the tune
Look, spring wants you to dance too
So let's wear your cold, cold toes and
Wear your wet jacket
We dance under the rain and falling leaves
Spring storm is coming and going,
Don't let it pass! Don't let it pass!
We will go together—one, two, one, two
So let's wear your cold, cold toes and
Join the storm!

Saturday, January 7, 2017

[Fanfiction] So Let Me

Title: So Let Me
Author: Vianna Orchidia 
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs
Character: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Oda Sanosuke, Sakaguchi Ango
Rating: T
Genre: ??? 
Disclaimer: Bungou Stray Dogs is property of Asagiri Kafka and Harukawa Sango. I do not own the series and the characters, and I do not gain any profit from this fanfiction
Warning: Dazai-centric, mention of torture. Repost from my AO3.
"People Feel Fortunate Looking at the Tragedy of Others"
"I Will Strip and Rest My Head on Your Lap"

A shrill scream broke the tranquility of night. Dazai did not even try to hide the sneer on his face as he gazed at the pitiful man, bound and blindfolded, his fingers being cracked one by one by Dazai's underlings. Dazai watched quietly how the man panted harshly, his body trembling as the Mafia goons let him absorb the pain.

“So,” he started with a cheerful voice, “are you going to tell me who hired you?”

“F-fuck you, Mafia dogs!”

Dazai raised an eyebrow. He clicked his tongue and signaled his men to break another couple of fingers. “Wrong answer~” The man shrieked in agony again. “Come on, I don't want to hurt you any more than this, so why don't you just sing for me already?”

The bound man, someone with his own share of torture experience under his sleeve, found strength to laugh hoarsely at the young executive. “This is nothing, boy. Soon you'll run out of fingers to break, and you won't get a fucking information from me!”

“Oh?” Dazai's smile broadened if only a fraction. “I must admit you're a brave man, but...”

Silence dropped for a second as Dazai trailed off. His men gulped visibly at how their executive suddenly emanated enough malicious intent befitting his title as the Demon Prodigy of Mafia. And then Dazai continued,

“Did you think this is the worst treatment you can receive?”

Dazai Osamu. Youngest Mafia Executive in History, Demon Prodigy, wielder of the Ability No Longer Human. The brainy half of the most powerful duo of Port Mafia, Double Black. A young man feared by his enemies and his allies alike. A boy who had barely turned a man with no sense of sympathy, just cold calculations.

Today, he finished another difficult mission, adding to the river-long list of his successful missions. As he exited the interrogation room—he knew the larger portion of Port Mafia members dubbed it as the torture room—he noticed his partner, the brawny half of Double Black, was leaning on the opposite wall with arms folded in front of his chest.

“Did you get anything out of him?” Nakahara Chuuya asked, though the look in his eyes revealed that he already knew the answer.

“Why, Chuuya, it's bad habit to ask something you already know the answer of!”

That reply apparently made Chuuya tick, just as Dazai expected. Easy, too easy. “Haa? I'm just trying to be civil!” the redhead snarled. “We worked hard to bring that guy in, so I want to make sure you do your job properly!”

“I always do my job properly. And it's just Chuuya who worked too hard.” Dazai shrugged flippantly and turned to leave. Out of habit, the smaller man also turned around, his stomps following him closely.

“That's because you conveniently forgot to tell me there was another squad in wait, asshole!”

“No, I didn't forget. I like to watch Chuuya working for my part too, that's all~”

“What the fuck.”

Chuuya continued to grumble and threw more complaints to him as they walked down the hallway. He entertained the redhead with cheerful replies that were just enough to keep him talking animatedly, though most of them were filled with ridiculous insults, until they reached the office of Mori Ogai, boss of Port Mafia. Dazai teased his partner one last time before he knocked on the door, ready to report.

“Go straight home, Chuuya, or the police will mistake you as an underage roaming around at night~”

“Fuck you, Dazai.”

When he finished the report and left the room, though, he couldn't find the small redhead anywhere in the base. A quick look at his phone told him that Chuuya had indeed headed home and was now safe behind the walls of his room. Dazai let a chuckle slip through his lips. He pocketed the phone again and walked swiftly, this time to one hidden bar in downtown.

Dazai Osamu was many things in one person, but 'a friend' was widely believed as non-existent among the list. He would prove this wrong time and time again, however, especially as he sipped a glass of clear whiskey in this bar, sandwiched between his two friends. A dark-haired man in glasses and a rough-looking red-haired man. Both did not have a reputation such as his, but they were people he actually cared about.

“I heard you brought in another man,” Sakaguchi Ango commented off-handedly to him. “How many people does it make this month?”

“Nine. The boss is getting impatient.” Of course Mori did not appear impatient at all during his report earlier, but his eyes could see what other people could not. He did not understand the need to get impatient. For him, the gears of this particular case was unfolding at a good rate, the perfect speed which he could enjoy the most. He learned the art of predictions from Mori, but it seemed like he had beaten the Mafia Boss in his own game. Dazai took another sip from his glass.

“Hmm,” Oda Sakunosuke, the redhead on his right, muttered. “Was it the man you brought after getting ambushed in the site?”


Ango eyed him curiously. “You look awfully calm. Was there no casualties?”

“Well, Chuuya got wounded pretty bad, but I've sent him home and put some medicines in his coat pocket, so he should be okay.”

Odasaku chuckled. “Playing shepherd and shepherd dog again, Dazai?” Both of his friends had heard about the infamous Double Black's teamwork from Dazai himself, and they very much understood how the young mafia liked to let Nakahara Chuuya handle all the fights. It's not the first, most definitely not the last time, Dazai casually informed them how his partner got hurt in the process.

“Did he get his wounds treated properly?” It was not the first time either, that one of them would ask about Chuuya's wellbeing in concern.

“He may not look like it, but that shorty is as resilient as a cockroach. He'll be fine,” Dazai threw a carefree smile at them. What he didn't say, what his friends could still hear from closed lips, was a simple--

he can still function as my pawn.

additional ending

Dazai Osamu did not feel any sympathy. He was full of cold calculations. And yet here he was, picking on the lock of Nakahara Chuuya's front door. As he swung the door open and stepped into the small room, filled with the scent of antiseptic, he replayed Odasaku's sentence in his head.

Why don't you show some goodwill for a change? Even a shepherd dog needs to be pampered once in a while to keep it loyal.”

He didn't really want to admit it, but Odasaku was right. Just a couple of medicines were not enough. He needed to take care of his pawn properly, that's why he came to this room. Certainly not to watch the rise and fall of Chuuya's chest under his blanket, not to gaze at the smooth line of his jaw, not to trace the curls of his red hair, no. Dazai ignored the subtle ache deep in his chest.

What a farce.

On second thought, this was unnecessary at all—a pawn would always be a pawn even without any visible effort to ensure his loyalty. He let out a sigh before tracing back his steps to the front door. Dazai knew Chuuya would never betray him, would never betray the Mafia. He could calculate all the factors in his personality and found no possibility of the redhead's treason. Afterall, Chuuya was the only one who could stand face to face to him without whimpering in fear, without donning a fake smile.

Dazai let the door shut close with a click.