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Ichiro Yamada
28 December 2011 @ 11:12 am
"Lalaki, Babae, Lalaki"

Pumunta siya sa Simbahan pagkatapos ng klase. Bawat segundo ay parang tinik na tinatanggal mula sa kanyang balat. Sa kanyang paghakbang, pabigat ng pabigat ang bagahe sa mga balikat niya. Tumingala, natatakot ng konti, at tinitigan muna ang imahe ng Birhen bago lumipat ang paningin kay Kristo.
              
  "Panginoon..." ang kanyang bugtong hininga. Nanginig ng konti ang kanyang mga labi. "Heto... na ako," matamlay niyang sinabi. Pumikit ang kanyang mga mata; ayaw niyang magsayang ng kahit isang patak ng luha. Malakas siya, sinabi niya sa sarili. Malakas ako. Pero sa kanyang loob, alam niyang hindi ito totoo.
                
  Malapit na siyang magtapos sa pag-aaral; konting pagtitiis nalang sa pagsusulat at paglilista ng mga nakakahilong termino ng medisina at makukuha na rin niya ang kanyang lisensya. Konti nalang... Malapit na; natitikman na niya ang pagwawagi.
 
  Ngunit....
 
  Sumikip ang kanyang dibdib at hindi na niyang nakayanan; umupo siya sa bangko. Hindi na niya napansin ang pag-vibrate ng kanyang cellphone mula sa kanyang bulsa. Hindi na niya namalayan ang pagtulo ng kanyang mga luha.
  
  Hindi na niya alam. Hindi na niya alam.
 
  Nag-propose siya kay Penelope noong nakaraang buwan. Muntikan nang mapaluha sa gitna ng klase ang babae, at natahimik lang noong napatingin ang professor sa kanilang direksyon. Palangiti si Penny, ang kanyang maliit na kamay nakahawak sa mas malaking kamay ng lalaki.
 
  “Oo,” sabi niya, “oo, oo…”
  
  Paulit-ulit niyang sinabi ito hanggang sa nakaabot ang balita kay Antonio, ang matalik na kaibigan ng fiance ni Penny. Nung una ngumiti lang ng parang nahihiya si Antonio; para ba’ng hindi niya alam ang sasabihin. Siguro nga’t hindi niya talaga alam.
  
  “Congratulations,ang pilit na sabi ni Antonio. Congratulations lang daw. Pero masaya naman si Penny sa bati. Siyempre. Hindi niya kasi alam. Hindi na niya alam.
 
  Isang buwan na ang nakalipas. Heto na siya: umiiyak, nagdudusa, naghihinalay—lahat sa harap ng iisang nilalang na hindi siya tatabuyin. Nakakatawa ngang isipin dahil ayaw daw ng Kristiyanong Katoliko sa ganitong mga isyu. Nakakatawa. Pero bakit siya umiiyak?
 
  Kung pwede nga lang at baguhin niya ang kurso ng buhay niya. Isang singsing. Isang tanong. Isang sagot. Lahat ng iyon ay nagbuo ng kanyang landas na hinaharap niya. Kung sa bagay, mahal din niya si Penelope. Ang kanyang Penelope. Si Penny. Si Penny at si…
 
  “Tonio,” sabi niya sa wala, sa hangin, sa statua ni Hesus, “Tonio, patawarin mo ‘ko. Alam mong hindi ko kayang lumabag. Hanggang puso lang ang pagrerebelde ko. Hindi. Si Penny, Tonio, si Penny…”
 
  Nakakatawa ngang isipin. Nakakatawa ngang tingnan; pakinggan; malasahan… Nakakatawa. Nakakatawang malaman na kay Hesus siya naghahanap ng ginhawa, pero sabi nga ng batas na bawal daw ang ginagawa niya.
  
  “Penny, Tonio, si Penny… Naghihintay siya at doon ako uuwi.”

==========

Found this at our Filipino blogspot thingo. Man. I wrote about gay love. It's glorious.
Tags:
 
 
emotional vault: dirtydirty
vocaloid: by Lydia
 
 
Ichiro Yamada
18 December 2011 @ 12:04 am
Things I've actually finished watching:
a) Katekyo Hitman Reborn
b) Durarara!!
c) Ao no Exorcist
d) Gakkou no Kaidan

Hmm... HM. I forgot if I've finished watching other series. ._.

What I plan to finish reading (manga, novels, and whatnot):
a) Ao no Exorcist
b) KHR
c) A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking (lol)
d) That book by Irvine Welsh that I keep on postponing
e) That one book by Dan Brown (Lost Symbols, I think?)
f) Kanojo wa Uso wo Aishisugiteru (yes, a shoujo manga... it's actually very interesting. and the pov changes, so it's not always focusing on the main girl's thoughts. which is good, i guess?)

akjdhwdjfejkffhdkjfrajsh CAN I JUST SAY THAT I LOVE THAT LAST ONE? It's rare that I get so hooked on a freaking SHOUJO MANGA. SHOUJO. Can you believe that? THE WORLD REALLY IS ENDING OMGGG HAHAHAHA

Anyway.
My mom got me an external hard drive (YAY!) and I transferred my all my files there. One day I'm going to a computer shop and have this computer of mine reformatted. So many "invisible" files that needs. to. be. DELETED.

SAKUJO
SAKUJO
SAKUJO
SAKUJO
SAKUJO!!!!!!!!

... Ahem. Yeah. I just had to do that.
Excuse me.
/hops onto robot unicorn


ALWAYS, I WANNA BE WITH YOU
AND MAKE BELIEVE WITH YOU
AND LIVE IN HARMONY,
HARMONY, OH LOVE

(cringe at my... creativeness. i dare you.)
Tags:
 
 
emotional vault: awakeawake
vocaloid: Always - Erasure
 
 
Ichiro Yamada
23 November 2011 @ 05:51 am

Title: Destroying the Looking Glass
Summary: And he won't hold her hand because the flowers she holds, they smell like blood.
Warnings/Notes: Cursing. Very "disjointed" kind of writing. Weird line of thoughts. I don't know. Did I mention cursing? It's not extreme, of course. *ahem* I'm planning on using this as my entry for CW...? (I haven't proofread this yet, so there are mistakes.)


Boy meets girl. Boy meets girl and girl meets man, man meets boy and boy...
      It repeats in her head like a mantra. One will suppose that it’s driven her to insanity, but au contraire - no, it’s what keeps her sane, what has kept her sane, all these years, all these years...
      The haunting piano music that wafts from the music studio chills her to the bone. Her mother: the sweetest creature, the most docile and refined; it perplexes her to know that the woman is able to play the most beautiful tune - beautiful, so very beautiful, but terrifying at the same time. She wonders, everyday, why that is, when her sweet mother, the most docile, the most refined...
      And then it stops altogether. She pauses.
      DDDDNNNNGGGG...
      She almost spits out her heart.
      There are instances when her mother does... things that really scare her. Like, really, really scare her. She doesn’t know if her mother has noticed, but Mother is slowly losing what’s left of her. She holds her hand close to her heart, trying to calm down the palpitation. She walks along, away from the studio, away from her mother, conveniently forgetting the bit where she almost loses her composure.
      Mother changed when Father disappeared. Her mother loved him. She still does, she thinks, maybe that’s why her mother insists he’s only gone - gone, but not dead.
      It repeats in her head like a mantra.
      Her father’s gone, not dead.
      And the mantra mocks her.
      Your father’s only disappeared, you stupid girl, he’s not dead!
      He’s only gone.
      He - is - not - DEAD!
      Of course, Mother.
      Of course he’s not dead.
      She doesn’t tell her mother about the blood and the dug grave and the mangled body.
      She doesn’t tell her. She has conveniently forgotten that bit.
      And she only knows her mother is insane. 


There are two things her mother brings home the next week.
      Things.
      A mirror.
      And a boy with tousled auburn hair and green eyes.
      There are two things her mother has brought home.
      And later in the day, she finds out her mother is wrong.
      There aren’t just two.
      There are three.


She says hi to the other boy. No, not the second thing, the third one. Not the boy with the auburn hair. No, this boy, she finds him looking a lot like her. Like a twin. Like a long, long, long lost, finally found twin.
      At first she hated that, him looking like her, but she gradually accepted it. She finds that she quite likes it. He even sounds like her, talks in the same manner as her, moves like her.
    She asks him why he’s only appeared now. Had her mother lied to her? Lied to her and kept him from her?
    "You’re my twin,” she says, attempting to hold his hand. He shies away, stepping back, and he looks at her from beneath hooded eyes.
    “Not your twin,” he says, shyly, but he smiles and she finds herself smiling back. “But I’ve always been here. 
    You just didn’t know where to look.
    She recognizes the fact that he doesn’t like to hold her hand. Rather, he doesn’t know how to. Like he isn’t permitted to do so. Like he’s too far away.  
    But she never asks. Only initiates. And she feels her heart surely breaking into two.
    One day the boy with the auburn hair comes to her house. She sees her mother welcome him into their home. Then she notices that her mother has never, never greeted the other boy, in all the times he’s been here. Auburn rarely comes to visit. The other does. But her mother has not made any sign of recognition. She wants to ask but is too afraid to do so; the image of her mother screaming about her gone-not-dead father burns in the back of her mind.
      Auburn hair turns to her, static green eyes fixing themselves on her form.. He greets her and smiles at her, but she realizes, in the midst of her internal turmoil and fright, that she can’t quite return the gesture. Her mother barely looked in her direction.
      She doesn’t notice that his smile never quite reaches his eyes.
      Another day comes and Auburn visits again. She thinks his presence to be increasingly alarming. She wonders why. He seems like a nice guy. He’s a bit like Other Boy, but with darker colored hair and a predatory smile. No, she convinces herself, he’s a lot like Other Boy. Only difference is that he likes to hold her hand, and Other Boy doesn’t. And Auburn does this quite precariously, too.
      Later that night she finds out her mother is marrying her off to Auburn.
      She’s surprised to know that she has actually consented to it.
      Another Day again, and Auburn shows up holding a bouquet of white calla lilies. She accepts it and gives it a cautious whiff.       
      And she finds her world spiraling to the ground.


Tick-tock. Tiiiiiiick-tock. Wake up, precious poppet!
      She opens her eyes, and her sight is greeted with the still darkness. Her head is pounding, and the toxic fumes she had inhaled lingers underneath her nostrils. She feels cross-eyed.
      “How are you, poppet?”
      He doesn’t sound like Other Boy.
      Why’d you do it, she tries to say, why’d you do it and let me go! The skin of her wrists feel raw as the cold, hard metal pushes against it.
      She barely sees his figure, but when he flashes his pearly whites, she completely recognizes the same predatory smile he always seemed to wear. He’s wearing it now.
      He doesn’t answer her. She hears him walking away, and she thinks he’s going to leave her to become rat and worm fodder.
      But he doesn’t.
      Suddenly the light switches are on and she immediately knows where they are. The music studio.
      And his hands are now closing around her neck.
      Her breaths come out jagged and uneven, but oddly she could still breathe. Like he’s allowing her to talk.
      “I’ve decided to get you first. I wasn’t going to let myself fall prey to you. I’m going to get you first.”
      What?
      She doesn’t understand! She doesn’t understand!
      She begins to choke.
      “You didn’t think I’d notice? It’s too hard not to ignore the flowers. I know how they are. They don’t smell like that. Not supposed to. You know?”

      No. She doesn’t know! She doesn’t understand! What does he mean? She’s not like her mother. She’s not like her mother!
      “I’ll end you first. I’ll be first. You can stay beside your dead father!
      Noooooooooo!
      She hears her mother screaming.
      He’s not deaaaad! He’s only gone, you stupid girl, he’s not dead!
      The chair she’s chained to crashes to the floor when he lunges at her. She screams, but her scream is cut short when he shoves down white calla lily petals down her throat. She flails and thrashes, but he holds her down, and he’s simply too strong for her. The chains on her wrists dig deeper - deeper and deeper and deeper until warm liquid flows - and she almost screams again.
      But she can’t. If she did, the calla lilies would lodge themselves down, down, down, down into her esophagus.
      Her eyes cloud with tears and she doesn’t blink, she doesn’t even notice that she hasn’t. She gasps, taking in nonexistent air and fucking flower petals, her attention fully on her attempt to breathe and not on blinking.
      She hasn’t shed a tear. Not yet. Not until she -
      “Hee... elll... p... helllp meee...”
      Help.
      Help. Help -
      H-help!
      Help her!
      Help me!
      He forces her head to the side. The tears pooling in her eyes slides down the side of her face.
      But she doesn’t cry.
      She doesn’t... doesn’t...
      She sees Other Boy, and he does nothing to help her. She calls out to him.
      Help me.  
      But he wouldn’t even hold her hand.
      Why should he help her?  
      Talk to me, bastard.
      Talk to me.
      You take my face. You take my voice and you take my movement.
      And yet you refuse to hold my hand.

      The scream she always hears from her mother - the one in her head - is the same scream that escapes her bluish lips.
      You’ve killed me.
      This time Auburn’s smile really has reached his eyes.
      You’ve killed me!
      The last thing she sees is Other Boy crying tears of blood.
      And yet she doesn’t understand.
      She never will.


The soft breeze slightly caresses his auburn hair, and he stills himself to brush his bangs from his too green eyes. Setting down the garden shovel, he hoists himself from the ground, his hands caked with soil and dirt. But he doesn’t really mind.
      A jolly tune is heard, the melody playing in the air, and he looks up to see his employer by the grand piano.
      “Good morning.”
      The woman glances at him, smiling. “Hello, Jack.”
      He doesn’t dare comment about the faraway look on her face.
      “Jack, it’s a pity that my daughter has run away. You two would have been a dream couple.”
      He chuckles. “I’m sure.”  
      “You’ve finished the flower bed,” she says. “The white lilies are beautiful. What are those flowers beside them?”
      “Asphodels.”
      “Won’t you tell me what they mean someday? The language of flowers.”   
      “Someday.”
      The woman presses a lone piano key.
      “Say, Jack, I think I’ll give you a possession of my daughter’s. I gave it to her before but... she won’t be able to use it now, won’t she? She has gone,” she laughs, “just like her father.”
      His smile is lopsided.
      “Is that so? Thank you.”  
      “You’ll find it in her room. Well, Jack, for now...”
      She begins to play another haunting piece, just like she does whenever she had finished conversing with him.
      He leaves her to her thoughts and makes his way to the daughter’s room. It looks the same as ever. Nothing has been moved nor removed. But he supposes that it’ll have to be changed today.
      A glint - passing, fleeting; if he hadn’t paid attention he wouldn’t have seen it - catches his eyes and he turns, finding himself face-to-face with...
      The girl looks just as disheveled as he is. He’s surprised to find that he’s beginning to feel very self-conscious.
      Instead, he smiles and says, holding out a hand,
      “Hello.”

 
 
emotional vault: thoughtfulthoughtful
 
 
Ichiro Yamada
06 April 2011 @ 07:29 pm
Title: Ties. Just Ties.
Summary: Don't forget to have your complete uniform! The new head prefect is strict! Ah, but do you really think I care? Nope, not at all!
Pairing: HATELOVE PAIRING. AKA strawberry and chocolate duo. :3
Warning: REALLY RANDOM LINE OF THINKING. SPUR OF THE MOMENT PLOT. OOC. And some name changes. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! (Oops, I accidentally wrote "Rina/Annabelle" instead of "Riba/Annabelle." Sorry!)

---

There's a bit of Rina/Annabelle there, sorry. XDCollapse )

There won't be a continuation... I hope. XD Comment~?
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emotional vault: touchedtouched
vocaloid: Beauty's Running Wild by Scars on 45
 
 
Ichiro Yamada
16 October 2009 @ 08:58 pm

 

Clicketh linketh.Collapse )
Tags:
 
 
emotional vault: okayokay
 
 
 
Ichiro Yamada
28 June 2009 @ 10:49 pm
ORIGINAL LIST.

Title: 101 Bowls of Chicken Soup
Author/Artist: Ichiro (nappo_knight )
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Annabelle Lee/Rina Sato, Roan Riba, Saito Yuki, Johan McDowell, Ichiro Yamada, etc
Rating: 13+
Warnings: None
Summary: Nothing beats chicken soup. Not unless you've been handed one hundred and one of them, that is.

Let's all have stomachaches, yeah~?Collapse )
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emotional vault: amusedamused
vocaloid: Arashi no Ouji - Fujiwara Yuki
 
 
Ichiro Yamada


Oh, my dear Saito-sempai.
What would I do without you.


...yes. :D omfgsquee.



BTW THE TITLE OF THIS POST IS JUST CRACK.
But I think it's from Hilary Duff's song

Tags:
 
 
emotional vault: gigglygiggly
vocaloid: 'The Way I Loved You' by Taylor Swift
 
 
Ichiro Yamada
26 May 2009 @ 11:03 pm
Excerpts From Her Diary by Ichiro
previous | Chapter Two | next


 
SCRAP STORY. read if interested. *shrugs*Collapse )
 
 
emotional vault: exanimateexanimate
vocaloid: 'Catch Your Wave' by The Click Five
 
 
Ichiro Yamada
26 May 2009 @ 06:05 pm
Excerpts From Her Diary by Ichiro
| Chapter One | next

Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance
&& an SK Alternate Universe (AU) fic.

 
 
SCRAP STORY. read if interested. *shrugs*Collapse )
 
 
the earth is: round table
emotional vault: sicksick
vocaloid: 'Cut' by Plumb