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About Varied / Student Member Name? What name?Female/Russia Group :icontaki-no-kuni: Taki-no-Kuni
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An old Wolf's Rain gallery I used to go to for the screen captures is now impossible to find, it seems. =_= This is irritating. It was such a good place to go.
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(Contains: sexual themes and violence/gore)
It was something in the wind that prompted her. A voice that whispered in her ears, fervently saying run, run while you still can. The beautiful voice of a man that she’d heard since the days of her childhood. The mysterious voice never failed to be correct. It never failed to guide her.

And that’s why she did what she and no one else thought she would ever do. That’s why she ran.

Her legs were pumping as her bare feet slapped against broken cemented pavement. She ignored the painful, jagged rocks as they lodged into her feet. She was used to worse. Her breaths were quick and panicked. She felt like she would drop and have an anxiety attack at any moment. Her vision was a blur.

She didn't know where she was running. This place was foreign and unfamiliar to her. America. The people here didn’t even speak the same tongue. She was brought here on “business.” Meaning, they brought her to this place to sell her on the streets for profit. All the way they kept their eyes on her, held her by the wrist, and dragged her along. They whispered to her in Japanese be quiet, keep your eyes down, and don’t make a scene. We wouldn’t want to see what happens to you if you did such a terrible thing. They were threats she was used to hearing, yet she never grew numb to them. The threats still terrified her.

Around the corner, down the street, rounding another corner, she didn’t dare look back for fear they were following her. She was supposed to be with a customer—had been with a customer—until he looked away. It was all the opportunity she needed.

A final corner before her lungs gave out and she fell to the ground. Her chest heaved. She curled up into a ball. Tears sprung at her eyes and slowly dripped down her cheeks. She yearned for the voice in her heard. She yearned for its guidance.

What do I do now?

Get up. Get up, Yoi. Don’t give up now.

The voice was soft yet firm. It’d always been that way. Yoi blinked back her tears and gave a solitary nod of her head. Slowly, she rose to her knees and looked around. She was beside a large building. Beside the large building was a large dumpster. Yoi shivered, realizing how cold the wind felt against her bare skin. The sun was set and night was falling. If she didn’t find a place to go, she’d freeze to death.

Help me, She prayed desperately to the voice. Please, help me.

The voice didn’t respond this time. It made her feel a dreaded feeling that it was gone. She was left on her own for now. Yoi wringed her hands together. She wished she had more than a nightgown on to stave off the cold. Her breath was coming out in puffs now. It was a sure sign of a dark, cold night.

Her mind traveled back to the dumpster. Yoi glanced at it. She wondered if it would be enough. It was better than nothing, wasn’t it? And it was a hiding place. She climbed to her feet and approached the dumpster. Her shaking hands shoved up the lid. The dumpster was—fortunately for her—empty.

A breathe of relief escaped her lips as Yoi climbed into the dumpster. She peeked out one last time into the darkness. The area was still. Clouds accumulating in the sky gave warning of rain. She lowered the lid and curled up inside the dumpster. Her eyes closed and she tried to sleep.

Yoi wasn’t sure how many hours she slept in the dumpster. Somewhere between her entering it and waking up it began to rain. Bright lights shone into the dumpster. Voices spoke in the same unfamiliar tongue everyone else in America spoke. Yoi’s eyes fluttered open. Her heart lurched into her throat. Before she could say anything they were hauling her out of the dumpster. Her eyes winced as she faced bright headlights of cars with sirens that glowed red and blue.

Instinct kicked in. Yoi struggled against the hands. She elbowed and kicked until she felt one connect. Whoever held her was stunned enough to let her go. Yoi made a blind run for it.

She was nearing the cars when a man jumped in her path. He planted his hands firmly on her shoulders, forcing her to a halt. Yoi jerked back. His grip on her was firm.

Hey! Hey! It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe now. They aren’t going to hurt you. It’s okay.

It wasn’t so much the familiarity of Japanese than it was the familiarity of the voice that made Yoi pause. She knew that voice. Her eyes lifted to get a better look at her assailant. She stared into two of the most brilliant blue eyes she had ever seen. They were a part of a pale, refined face covered with pristine, curled black hair. There was a faint, almost angelic glow about him. His expression was warm. A gentle smile spread across his face.

It’s okay, Yoi. You are safe now.

Her mouth dropped open yet words refused to come out. The voice was in her head. His voice was in her head. It was him. It was the voice that guided her all those years and ultimately the voice that guided her to freedom. She felt tears again push at her eyes.


She wasn’t able to finish her sentence. Suddenly, the angelic man was gone. She stood dazedly in front of the cars. The lights of the sirens bounced off her skin and reflected on her nightgown. Yoi shivered. It was him.

Yoi glanced over her shoulder. The people were approaching her with caution. She wondered if they’d even seen him. Her angel. Yoi turned to face the Americans. A small smile spread across her face. If he said it was safe, then she was willing to go with them. She walked toward them.

You’re safe now.
My Dearest Daughter,

You are turning 13 this year. You’re a curious daughter. You always ask me questions about my life and I never give you the answers. I’m writing this for you. Maybe one day you will find it long after I’m gone. Maybe you’ll read it. And then, hopefully, all those questions you had about my life will be answered.

The Americans who took me in introduced me as the authorities. Police. They were gentle and patient with me. At the time, I didn’t speak a word of English. That was something that came much later in my life. That May night was the night I was reborn. My destiny changed and suddenly I was free from the shackles of my old life. That didn’t necessarily mean my old life would no longer haunt me. Even to this day I can’t escape the triggers and reminders that plague me. I can’t escape the nightmares.

My name is Yoi. At least, that is what I called myself. To tell the truth, I was never given an official name, though I know my maiden name would have been Mizuno. My mother died when I was born. I was stolen away by my father and raised into the life of a sex trafficker. (Your Otōsan thought he could hide this information from me, but I found his research upon his death). For all it mattered to the world, I was a human that didn’t exist. There was no documentation of my existence anywhere.

When the police took me in and questioned me, I was only able to answer so much. I estimated my age from 16 to 18. I knew my birthday was sometime in December. I grew up in the mountainous outskirts of Hida-Takayama of Gifu prefecture. I lived in a small building with 父上 (chichi-ue transcribed. He always demanded I call him that when talking to others. When the police prompted me for his name, I was reluctant. However, I suppose there’s no harm now in saying his real name is Akumu Izumi. Or was. I’m not sure of his whereabouts or life status.)

It’s hard for me to recollect my years in Hida-Takayama. Every time my mind travels to that dark place, the memories overwhelm me and I hole myself up for days at a time. You know this very well, my love, and I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry you have to take care of me when it should be I who is taking care of you.

There was a dark room with a small window in the building. That was my room. Chichi-ue lived in the rest of the house. His associates lived in the city. I remember the naïve child I was. Back in my youngest years, Chichi-ue was kind to me. He was always the kindest one, but he was kinder still when I was but a baby. He was the one who rocked me at night, fed me, and kept me alive. He taught me to walk and talk. He taught me all the basic life skills without hesitation, but also without love.

I was too young. I didn’t know he didn’t love me. His attention was all I ever needed to thrive. I still remember nights where I toddled into his room. He liked to sit in an armchair under a nightlight and read.

“Papa?” I’d say, standing in the doorway with a helpless look on my face.

He’d look over at my with gruff disregard. “What?”

“I had a bad dream.”

His response would be another gruff. He’d put his book down after a few more pages, beckon me over, and pull me into his lap. It was those times I felt Chichi-ue loved me the most. I fell asleep in his arms and my nightmares would wash away.

All of that changed as I grew older. Strange men started coming to the house. Chichi-ue started growing more distant. He let them drag me to my room and do what they wanted. He told me to do what I was told. A lot of it was touching. Touching, disrobing, and following orders. As long as I obeyed, Chichi-ue would absently pat my head and tell me I was a good girl.

A good girl. It was from that phrase which I pulled my name. Good. Yoi. It was my own, childish way of clinging onto any slither of approval Chichi-ue would give me. I craved his approval. I yearned it. And when he gave it to me, I ate it up. That was how he kept his leash on me. That was how he convinced me to stop fighting what was happening to me. It was how he kept me from running away.

The first time I bled, things changed again. The men stopped coming. I overheard a piece of a conversation between Chichi-ue and his associates. They were in the kitchen and I pressed my ear up against the door.

“It’s best to do it while she’s young. If we wait, she might be ruined for good.” An associate named Isamu-sensei. (He was a doctor). “It’ll be rough on her, but it’s what’s best for the business.”

“Or.” Chichi-ue. “We could wait. I understand the…importance and urgency…of the situation, but if we risk it too early she will be ruined, too.”

“With all due respect, we already have someone in mind,” said the voice of another associate. Jirou-san. “It’ll be a perfect match. And we can’t shield her forever, even if you may want to.”

I moved away from the door. If they ever caught me eavesdropping, I was in for a beating. At such a young age, self-preservation was already a strong concept in me.

A dozen questions ran through my head. Unfortunately, I worried that I would soon figure out the answers to each of them. I went along to do my chores. That was another change from my youth. I was now responsible for all the chores in the house. If I slacked off on them, I knew they would not be pleased. They would hit me. Chichi-ue would hit me. The first time he ever lifted a hand against me, I cried. I cried and cried the whole night away; feeling like a betrayal had taken place.

It wasn’t even the beginning.
NUMB: Two conti. is next! Breaking up Two due to its length.
Boom. Boom. Boom.

The music was pounding. Her ears practically vibrated as inevitable hearing loss set in. She danced in the crowd, eyes closed, drink in hand, swaying and moving with no rhythm. At the age of 18, a nightclub was the last place she was supposed to be—let alone one that willingly served her alcohol. If anyone knew, she’d be out of the club in a flash. The guards would whisk her away and throw her out in the dirt. That’s why a fake ID was so convenient. That, and the feeling of invisibility that she felt often encased her. No one cared to look at her. If their eyes crossed her path, they immediately went wayside. She wondered if that was because they knew. Deep down, they knew she wasn’t like them.

The drink was a sangria. She found she could only tolerate alcoholic drinks that were sweet. It went along with her intense sweet tooth that plagued her since childhood. Hardcore liquor made her blanch. Whiskey made her nose wrinkle. Vodka was too hard on her stomach. She didn’t defy the drinking age laws for the sake of getting smashed. She defied them for other—she felt justifiable—reasons. If only they knew.

Sweat doused her forehead, matting her long, black hair against her face. It dripped and soaked into her black tank top. She didn’t notice. The energy of the room thrilled her. It filled her with emotions she otherwise controlled with exact precision. Any missteps could prove deadly.

A laugh escaped her lips. The sangria—or rather, the multiple ones she’d consumed so far—gave her the light buzz she was looking for. They liberated her and gave her certain freedoms her sober self would otherwise disallow. She allowed herself to fall into the euphoria of the club and its music.

2 AM.

She quietly forced her key into the entrance of the cruddy apartment. It was where they lived ever since her father died. Her mother wasn’t able to hold a well-paying, stable job. Once her father died, their life of luxurious privilege went down into the grave with him. It wasn’t all that bad. When they first moved in, she’d been excited at the idea of living a “normal” life. As normal a life as they could live, that is.

As the key turned and clicked, a sudden sense of dread filled her. She paused. Her heart beat began to pick up. Something’s not right.

She slowly pushed the door in. It creaked and groaned in protest as it opened. The apartment was dark. The teen stepped in and placed her small pack on the floor.

“Mom?” She said, voicing echoing. “Mom? Are you awake?”

There was a rustle in her mother’s bedroom. She made her way to the room. A million thoughts raced through her mind. What if her mother was hurt? What if she hurt herself? Depression was a nasty struggle and her mother’s life had been anything but luxurious. Still, she couldn’t imagine her mother taking her own life, despite the anxiety rising that it was what she was going to find.


She opened the door. It was dark in the bedroom as well. The teen narrowed her eyes and allowed them to adjust to the darkness. Two shapes took form. Male and female. The first thing she noticed was the glowing, cat-like eyes of one. The next was the way the man’s large hand wrapped so firmly around the female’s neck. Her mother.

“What’s going on?” The teen asked eyes wide with bewilderment. “Who are you?”

“Hisaye,” Her mother croaked. There was a natural stutter to her voice. “Hisaye, get out of here. Get out of here, now.” Her hand desperately reached out.

The man looked over Hisaye and smiled. His smile revealed fangs so pearly white that Hisaye could make them out in the darkness. His grip tightened on her mother. His voice came out in a purr, soft as silk. “My, my…how you’ve grown. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my child.”

“What’s going on?” Hisaye asked again. Her eyes darted between the two. She felt a bubbling rage rising from her stomach. “Let her go.”

“Hisaye,” Her mother begged. Her begging was abruptly cut off as the man tightened his grip. Her mother gasped and grabbed his hand. She pulled against his grip, trying to breathe.

“I’ve left you here too long, child,” The man sneered. “10 years too long. You’ve hardly reached your potential. What, with your meddling mother and that angel. Now it’s time to go.”

“What are you…?” Hisaye begun when a sudden clarity came over her. Suddenly she felt alarm. Her heart beat faster against her rib cage. Panic threatened to spill out. Her body began to shake. “Let her go. Just let her go.”

The man gave a soft laugh. He dug his fingers into her mother’s throat. Hisaye could smell blood. “Be a good girl.”

“Let her go,” Hisaye repeated. Her voice took more authority and force. Her panic began to grow into anger. Alarms were going off in her head. A voice rang in her head: if you don’t stay calm, if you let the anger take over, you may never return.

Hisaye was told that 8 years ago on a night that she considered to be the worst of her life. It was the night her entire world was unraveled and she learned a truth about herself she’d have rather ignored.

A step closer. Another. The rage kept boiling up and her head began to grow fuzzy. “Leave her alone.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own anymore. It was…dark. Demonic. She bared her teeth at the man. Her eyes narrowed. Hisaye could feel her fingers twitching at her side. They itched to dig into the man. To rip him apart.

This seemed to amuse him. He laughed again. “Yes. Come to me, little one. Let the anger take you.”

Another squeeze. A cry of pain from her mother.

Everything whited out for Hisaye.
Featuring: Ikiyou :heart:

Ikiyou is a wonderful artist who's dream is to be a manga-ka! She is extremely nice and very fun to talk to, and is also quite supportive of her friends. Ikiyou is able to think deeply, which is often displayed in either her comments on pictures or her often posted journals.

Her work is all copyrighted, so don't even think about stealing it! But if you wanted to reference it or even draw her a little gift, I'm sure she wouldn't mind (as long as you ask!)If you haven't checked her out yet, I highly reccommend you stop whatever you're doing and do it now!
  • Mood: Tender
  • Listening to: Set the Fire to the Third Bar - Snow Patrol
  • Reading: Past conversations
  • Watching: Lifetime
  • Playing: Life
  • Eating: Nothing
  • Drinking: Nothing


Name? What name?
Artist | Student | Varied

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DjRuler Featured By Owner Edited Oct 15, 2014  Student Digital Artist
Hello Do you mind Doing Commission Point of my Co AnnaBell Evans and Soul Evans, How Much Points Should i Give you? 

 x Soul Eater Evans
Stalker-of-Neji Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2014  Student General Artist
Oh, goodness....I haven't done a commission of any kind in such a long time.

I could try to draw something for you, sure, but I don't really have a need for points anymore.

But I *am* running a fundraiser for my sick ferret. If you could donate $5, I'd be more than happy to draw these two for you!

DjRuler Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2014  Student Digital Artist
well i Don't have Money, So,.... I don't know how to do that,  
Stalker-of-Neji Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2014  Student General Artist
Actually, let me see something about points. I'm pretty sure you can convert points => money...or, I'm unsure if they got rid of this or not.

I'll figure it out. I'll get back to you soon. :)
(1 Reply)
Sandise Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2014  New member
Hello, please check my blog
birthdays Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2013
:woohoo: :party: :iconcakelickplz: !!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! :iconcakelickplz: :party: :woohoo:

On behalf of the *birthdays team, I sincerely apologize that your greeting has arrived late this year.

We hope you had an awesome day with lots of birthday fun, gifts, happiness and most definitely, lots of cake! Here's to another year!

Many well wishes and love from your friendly birthdays team :love:

Birthdays Team
This birthday greeting was brought to you by: ~KoudelkaW
sigh-yuh Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday!~
psion005 Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Hellooooooooo :iconlazywaveplz:

:iconisawitplz: Welcome to the madhouse :crazy:

Here ya go, have a :iconcrazyllamaplz:

psion005 Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Hellooooooooo :iconlazywaveplz:

:iconisawitplz: Welcome to the madhouse :crazy:

Here ya go, have a :iconcrazyllamaplz:

birthdays Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2012
:woohoo: :party: :iconcakelickplz: !!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! :iconcakelickplz: :party: :woohoo:

It's December 3rd which means it's that time of the year again and your special day is here! We hope you have an awesome day with lots of birthday fun, gifts, happiness and most definitely, lots of cake! Here's to another year!

Many well wishes and love from your friendly birthdays team :love:

Birthdays Team
This birthday greeting was brought to you by: =SilverSymphony
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