#xaan speaks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

four-moms-tragedy · 7 years

Text

Title: The Daisy is But a Flower

Author: Mod Xaan

Characters: Melanite/Daisy

Daisy. A flower. A gentle blossom with blank petals that speak only truth and a bright disk of pastel yellow that speaks to your soul and warms your heart.

"My name is Daisy," she said gently, holding out her hand to me. She was different from the others. She was kind and cautious. She did not approach me with hostility or intent or fascination. No, she was not like the others that had followed me, tracked me, hunted me. This human was something else entirely. "What is your name?"

"Melanite." The name withdrew from my lips with such ease, as though she had coaxed the answer from me. I should be afraid of this power. I should be running. But her eyes are so kind and they crinkle as she smiles at my answer. She looks so happy.

"It is nice to meet you, Melanite. Are you lost? Do you have anywhere to go?"

Why does she care for me? I am but a stranger to her. I am not even human and yet the way she looks at me, it is as though she thinks of me as her equal. I am not a lowly freak to her, or something to be experimented upon. I am a person to her.

"No."

Her smile softened. She knelt down so she was on eye level with me where I sat. "Would you like to come home with me?"

I don't hesitate with my words. Her clear, gorgeous blue eyes are enough to secure my trust. This is Daisy, the gentle woman who was to be the closest friend that I could have hoped for. This is Daisy. My Daisy.

"Yes."

A daisy is a flower of a dainty quality but great strength. Daisies are innocent, simple, cheerful, good. Loving. Daisies flourish in the sunlight, bloom in the summer and drink the gentle water that washes over them in the summer.

"You're a natural, Melanite."

I smiled and bit my lip gently at my Daisy's compliments. She was proud of me. It was all that I could hope for as I spun on my toes and pointed my feet. I shuffled toward her and back, performing the dance as she had taught me. She tapped out the time as I moved. As I spun and danced, I slowly inched toward her, little at a time and she didn't notice until I was right before her.

I performed my Arabesque, pointing my outstretched hand to her. She giggled and took my hand gently, the simple gesture sending warm tingles running through my nerves. I lowered my foot the ground, and looked at her. My heart fluttered when I saw her eyes aglow and that sweet smile upturned on her face. I executed a brisé, the jump pulling me away from her and she let my hand slip from hers as I did so, instead of jumping with me as I had expected. I stopped and relaxed my stance, staring at her with confused eyes.

"Why did you stop?" I asked quietly, looking down at my feet. "I thought I was doing well."

"You were."

"Then why did you stop? Do you not want to dance with me…?"

She laughed quietly and I looked up at her, silently demanding an explanation. My angry expression when I saw that familiar smile on her face as she looked at me. It was the one that meant I misunderstood something.

"Melanite," my Daisy said quietly, "I stopped because you're better than I am. I can't keep up with you anymore."

I shook my head. "That doesn't mean anything. I can slow down, I can dance more like you. I just…Don't you want to dance with me…?"

"More than anything." My Daisy walked over and cupped my head in her hand. I leaned into her touch and managed a small smile. "I want to dance with you, Melanite, I really do."

I placed my hand over hers and my smile grew just a little more. "…Then let's dance."

But daisies are not always strong. Daisies grow old. Daisies wilt. Too much of a good thing always kills it. A daisy simply wishes for time to bask in its warm sun, so long as it doesn't burn.

"I want more time."

"I know you do. I want more time too."

"Why can't we have it, then? Why can't we get more time? Why do humans have to be so…"

"Weak?"

The tears ran down my face and I looked at my Daisy with blurred vision. Even after years of knowing her, watching her skin grow heavy and wrinkles wear into her body, her hair soften into a faint snowy white like the flower she was named after, and her life slowly drain like a bag of sand with a hole on the bottom, she still looked as beautiful as ever. She was still my Daisy.

"You're not weak," I whispered, taking her hand.

My Daisy laughed feebly as she squeezed my hand. Her bright eyes still glowed with life despite that all slowly coming to an end. "I am a human and all humans are weak, Melly. It is a simple fact of life."

"But why does it have to be this way?!" The tears were back and I tried to wipe them away for fear of upsetting her. "You don't deserve to go now. There's so much more you can do…"

"I've lived a full life. I've seen so many wonderful things. I've met you, Melly. I could not have asked for a better life. Even if I was allowed all the time of the universe, I would not wish for it if I was not able to meet you." She slowly reached out her hand and her fingers traced my cheeks. Her fingers are cold and the gesture took effort. She was so frail, scarcely able to move from her deathbed and yet she used this time to comfort me.

I take her hand in mine, gently, and try to smile. "I am glad to have met you, too. After being alone for so long, I finally met someone who was kind to me." More tears. I don't try to stop them. "Thank you for giving me your hand, Daisy."

The corners of her mouth upturn and her eyes shine with such pride, such happiness. "Thank you for accepting it, Melanite."

Then, she goes limp. Her body relaxes against her pillow and silence draws around her like a suffocating blanket. Her hand wilts in my grasp and suddenly there is nothing left. Simply her body remains, eyes transfixed on me but there is nothing there anymore.

And her blue eyes still looked so very alive.

Daisies do not live forever. They live. They bloom. They wilt. Then they die. But even when they bend and wilt and shrivel, they remain beautiful. They become a part of something greater. And, they are always remembered by those who chose to pick it from its roots. A daisy is but a flower, and flowers do not last, but they are remembered.

#fm writing #story #gemsona #melanite #ocs #daisy #md ship #them feelz

0 notes

xaandiir · 2 years

Note

OMARI AU HEADCANNONS???

I’m not sure if you mean for my specific AU or an OMARI AU in general, and so I’m going to go with assuming it’s for my GUILTI AU since the regular OMARI AU doesn’t appeal to me.

This got kind of long so this is going under a read more!

In GUILTI, Sunny kills himself on the night of the recital due to pressure from Mari and his parents to be perfect and being unable to cope properly.

Sunny had been dealing with depression for years but didn't have the words to explain what he was going through, so no one seemingly understood that he was suffering.

Mari blames herself for Sunny's death, both because she was at home and should have realized and been able to save him, as well as that she believed her own pressure on him was a huge factor.

Her devastation and guilt led to her to stop going to school and stay at home, for fear of having to face her friends after the funeral.

Mari was never as imaginative as Sunny was, but the hard depression that hit her following his death led her to sleep most of the day which is what originally founded her White Space--she had little imaginative abilities and so could only dream in this white, lonely space.

Eventually she began to dream in memories, remembering good times with her friends when they were younger, and Sunny when he was still alive. This created Headspace, though it was not nearly as wild and fun as Sunny's is in the original OMORI.

I don't know squat about Japanese, but upon looking for definitions of what 'Hiki' on its own can mean, I found that one kanji for "Hiki" translates to mean Sadness and Grief, and another translates to mean Joy. I cannot verify that as I do not speak Japanese, but if that's true, then Hiki holds a greater meaning for Mari's alternate name than simply completing the Hikikomori word between the main game and the AU.

Whereas in OMORI you spend the game gathering letters to complete the hangman game to unlock Black Space, in GUILTI, Mari is collecting music notes to complete the sheet music for her recital that she never got to go to with Sunny.

Instead of trying to keep her there, her friends in Headspace want her to be happy and feel better in the real world.

Headspace Sunny is a bit of a twisted version of Sunny in Mari's head--he becomes the happy child that she likes to remember and thought he was, but she ultimately will need to confront the real version of him, who rarely smiled and was depressed and struggling.

Mari's weapon of choice in Headspace is Sunny's bow because she the memory of her brother and the recital they never went to causes her mental anguish, which can also be dealt to enemies.

That being said, there's not much fighting in Mari's headspace. She doesn't have much anger to work out (except towards herself) and instead the enemies she fights are amalgamations of her intrusive thoughts and guilt.

In Headspace and White Space, Mari is cursed to wear the same outfit she wore for the recital, when she found Sunny.

In the real world, Mari stays shut away in her house and doesn't take good care of herself. Her appearance is no longer shining and clean like she was before her trauma.

Additionally, Basil was with Mari when they found Sunny. Sunny had tried to send Basil home, but Basil didn't want to go home and instead just wandered around the neighborhood to let Sunny cool down after his fight with Mari. He returned close to the recital time to get a ride, and that's when Sunny was found.

Basil is really traumatized from seeing his dead best friend and dealt with it in his own bad ways but I've been babbling for so long that that will have to be another post.

TL;DR...GUILTI AU is really sad but it also explores some some really good psychology and is the story that I thought OMORI was when I first got it.

#omori #omori au #omari au #guilti au #xaan speaks

165 notes · View notes

four-moms-tragedy · 7 years

Text

Title: Who Do You Want to Protect?

Author: Mod Xaan

Characters: Osanna/Michael

"Michael," Osanna whimpered, grasping the agent's face between her hands. Tears dripped from her eyes onto his blood-smeared face. He stared up at her, though it was hard to tell if he could really see her or not because his gaze kept wandering through his delirium. "Michael, please, stay awake…"

Michael blinked, the simple action seeming to take great effort on his part. "Osanna…" he whispered hoarsely, "I…I-It hurts…"

Osanna wiped away some of the blood from his cheek and glanced down at the gaping wound in his side before focusing her eyes back on him. Where was everyone? Why didn't she have supplies to stop the bleeding? Why couldn't she do the simplest of tasks when her friend was dying right before her eyes? "I know. I'm sorry."

"C-Can it…Can you make i-it stop…?"

His voice sounded so broken. It sent pierced Osanna's heart to hear him in such a state. If she had anesthetic, or bandages, or something then she would, but there was nothing on the battlefield…There was only the sound of bullets flying overhead and the pained screams of the dying surrounding them. She tried to block it out as she shook her head. "I-I can't…I'm so sorry Michael…"

"I…I'm sorry…I-I couldn't help…I just…"

Osanna shook her head furiously. "No, no! You didn't d-do anything wrong, you…Michael, just don't speak, okay? Just be quiet and try to rest…"

"Sorry, Osanna…I'm sorry…" Michael's labored breathing faded. His eyes rolled back into his head and then, nothing.

"Michael…?" Osanna's hand frantically searched his neck and found that his heart had stopped. His chest was no longer rising. "Michael!!"

Osanna bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. This was her greatest nightmare: to have a life in her hands. She couldn't stand it. Her hands always shook and her heart beat furiously in her ears and she felt as though she was going to pass out. Osanna never believed in herself enough to actually try to save someone. She always left it to someone else. But this time, there wasn't anyone else. There was only her and Michael, and she'd be damned if she was going to let him die.

She removed what tattered remains of her jacket she had and tied it over Michael's wound. It would have to work as a bandage until she could find better material. Then, when she was certain he wouldn't lose too much more blood, she set to restarting his heart.

Just relax, try thinking of something that you... like or want to protect.

#fm writing #story #ocs #osanna #michael #om ship

0 notes