#i still try to catch them even if it means the shards are just gonna cut me

[crashedsea]

Sorry but it really does upset me sometimes seeing childrens/teens emotions just being boiled down to being a kid.

Like. For a lot of people the struggles theyre going through and even just emotional ones will effect them for the rest of their lives.

And at the same time I get it like theres stuff that seemed so important to me as a teen and that I grew out of and gained perspective on but also like... There was so much i was stuggling with that was very real and practical concerns and it just like all got dismissed.

And it just upsets me so much. Because I'm still carrying all that with me and its like I would watch people say well you'll grow out of it you'll get over it and I fucking havent that shit was real and just because i was a teenager doesnt mean I didnt know what I was feeling. And it hurts so bad too because so much of it I just didnt have the vocabulary/exprience/perspective to fully understand or explain what I was feeling but it didnt stop me from hurting. And that also gets dismissed.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Drop the mask (drop your clothes)

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 10 & the 12 Days of Christmas bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Shopping & Daddy Kink

Rated: E

Tags: Modern AU; Rockstar Eddie; Nepo baby Steve; Bratty Steve; Fake relationship; Sexually explicit language; Sexual tension; Dry humping; Groping; Degradation kink; Daddy kink

Notes: Set in the same universe as this one

“Stevie, honey,” Eddie croons. “Which would your dad prefer? I like the charcoal one, but maybe it's a bit loud for his taste? Help me out here, I want my first Christmas present for him to be perfect.” 

The curtain of the changing room whips open, revealing a glowering Steve. Eddie’s mouth goes dry, because God fucking damnit. Eddie loathes suits and ties on himself - always felt like being forced into a straightjacket on the rare occasions that he had to squeeze into one - and thinks that most other men look frankly ridiculous in them, but Steve? Steve sure knows how to pull them off. Speaking of pulling things off, Eddie would like to tear the damn thing off him with his teeth. He files that thought for later as Steve strides towards him, eyes blazing. For a second, Eddie thinks he's gonna make a scene in the middle of this ridiculously high-priced men's outfitters, and his heart jumps in giddy anticipation. But the employees have all gone silent and are gawking at them, and there’s still a flock of paparazzi waiting outside with their cameras, trying to get a decent shot through the clothes racks. Steve’s mouth snaps shut again. The bitchy scowl melts into a saccharine smile.

“Don't be silly,” he says, swaying closer into Eddie’s space and taking the tie from his hands. His next words are a low murmur against the shell of Eddie’s ear. “There's no way you're spending Christmas with us and you know it.” 

Of course Eddie knows. Hell, he never even expected their little farce of a relationship to last this long. But Senator Harrington's poll results are skyrocketing, and people are ripping Eddie’s new album off the shelves, and the PR people thought it would be a good idea to continue this into the new year. Take walks in the snow, do winter sports together, go Christmas shopping - all conveniently in front of the cameras. 

Not like Eddie minds. On the contrary, he’s come to find that he rather enjoys it. Not the fake flirting and the pet names and putting up with the pack of reporters trailing them at every step, no. What fills him with a perverse glee is pushing Steve’s buttons, testing how far he can go before that smooth, icy facade shatters into a million sharp-edged shards. What does it matter if he cuts himself. It's well worth it if he gets to see Steve without the mask for a short while. 

“Shame,” he purrs, reaching out under the pretense of straightening Steve's tie, reveling in the choked-out little gasp he gets when his fingers settle against that long throat. He wonders if the marks and bruises he left there are fading already. Maybe he ought to touch up on them. “You'll be awfully bored over the holidays, won't you? I mean, if you'll have to put up with Daddy calling you a whore and a slut, you should at least get some decent cock for your trouble.” 

Steve's smile goes a little less sweet, a little more sharp. 

“Aw, and you think I need you for that? Don't give yourself too much credit, Munson.”

They trade a look. Eddie’s eyes flick towards the back exit of the store.

“Can you ring up the suit, please?” Steve asks the employee standing nearest to them. “I'll leave it on, thank you.” 

*

They crash into the wall of the alley with a force that has Eddie seeing stars. Steve doesn’t leave him any time to catch his breath, crowding him against the wall and shoving his tongue past his teeth with a greedy moan. Eddie lets him have his way for a second or two, just enough to lull him into a false sense of control, before he grabs him by the lapels of the new suit to haul him around and switch their positions. Steve’s eyes are glassy with arousal, lips pink and full from their kiss, parted around a wordless gasp. 

“Look at you,” Eddie whispers, leaning in to press the words right against Steve’s throat, grinning when he feels the racing heartbeat under his teeth. One of his hands reaches down, finding the shape of Steve’s straining cock through the expensive fabric of his pants. Steve shudders and bucks in his hold, rolling his hips forward to seek friction. “Look at how greedy you are for it. You can deny it all you want, baby, but at the end of the day? You’re desperate for my cock, and we both know it.” 

“Shut up,” Steve rasps, grinding himself into Eddie’s hand. His fingers fist into Eddie’s hair, yanking him down to keep his mouth on his neck. Eddie laughs, biting down on the fading bruise just below the line of Steve’s slipping collar. 

“I’ve been wondering,” he says. “D’you think your father knows? You think he’d let this continue if he knew how much you’re actually enjoying this? How every single one of these little outings ends with you riding my cock until you scream? How the only one you’ve been calling daddy lately is-”

Steve makes a raw, wrecked sound that's somewhere between rage and lust, crushing their lips together for another bruising kiss. 

“God, you're annoying,” he pants against Eddie’s mouth, hands finding the zipper of his pants. “How about you stop talking about fucking me and actually-” 

“Look, there they are!” 

They flinch apart, disheveled and breathing heavily, to see the first paparazzi sprint around the corner. 

“Aw, shit,” Eddie swears. A quick sweep of the alley reveals a wire fence at its end, with a dumpster just low enough to climb in front of it. “Wanna ditch these fine people? I know a guy who has a club nearby, I'm sure he'd let us hide there.” 

Steve’s shocked expression morphs into a wicked little grin and Eddie’s heart kicks in his chest. 

“I'd love that,” Steve says, and takes his offered hand. “C'mon, let's get outta here.” 

More holiday drabbles

My Steddie Bingo fills

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 6

It's Wednesday! (I'm ignoring the clock that says it's 2 AM. It's totally still Wednesday. I haven't gone to bed yet which means it can't be Thursday.)

So, since it's obviously still Wednesday, it's time for another WIP Wednesday. We're getting into the real meat of the plot of this arc with this update! And now you'll maybe start to see where I'm gonna take this.

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

And that was when a large, swirling-green gash opened up in the night sky and dozens of ghosts started pouring through.

“Oh man!” exclaimed Sam as they watched the ghosts wreak havoc on the street. “I’ve never seen this many ghosts attack at once!”

Danny held out his thermos as he stared. “I’m gonna need a bigger thermos.”

The ghosts all appeared to be wearing uniforms and held batons as they attacked civilians and police indiscriminately.

“Uh, Danny?” asked Tim. “Should we call in back up?”

“No!” One of the ghosts got close to their group and Danny quickly sucked it into the thermos, dropping Jazz’s milkshake in the process. “Dammit. Absolutely not. It’s bad enough with three metas here. No more.”

Across the street, they saw a couple running from three of the invaders. One of the ghosts turned invisible and entered the body of the man who went stiff before sprinting to catch up to his partner and grabbing her to hold her still.

Then one of the other ghosts turned a garbage can over the both of them. The one overshadowing the man left his body, leaving the humans crying and covered in garbage as the ghosts laughed.

“I see,” said Tim. “How do we protect Bart, Cassie, and Conner?”

“You’re metas?” asked Sam.

Cassie nodded. “Yeah, nothing special, but… I don’t want to see what a ghost could do with my powers.”

“Let’s get back to my place. My parents might be crazy, but the ghost shield works. And then we can make a plan.”

Tim nodded. “I’ll lead. Kon, Bart, Cassie, you three need to stay in the middle. Sam, Tucker, you watch our sides and Danny, take up the rear. Capture any ghosts that try to approach us.”

Amity, even during a ghost invasion, was much easier to navigate than Gotham and Tim was able to lead them back to Danny’s house without getting lost. Every scream made him want to stop and help, though. He hated being useless.

Behind him, he could hear muttered curses from his teammates and knew they felt the same. But they needed weapons. Ones that could actually hit a ghost. And they needed to make sure they could fight off any overshadowing.

A TV was thrown out of a house through a window next to them sending shards of glass raining on the ground. Sam let out a string of curses.

“Sam!” called Danny. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. Just a slice to my arm.”

“We’re almost there,” said Tim. “We’ll check it out.”

He was flat out running now, could hear the others just behind them. They turned a corner and he could see the glowing FentonWorks sign. He grit his teeth and continued to run away from the mayhem, fighting every instinct he had. He wouldn’t be able to help if he stayed. He repeated it as a mantra with every step.

And finally they were there, he grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, ushering his friends in first.

Once inside, Danny flipped a few switches and metal slammed down over the windows, though no guns or lasers came out of the walls.

“Okay. No ghosts can get in now.”

“Danny!” Jazz came running down the stairs. “You’re all okay! Mom and Dad rushed out as soon as the attack started. What’s going on?”

“Jazz! Sorry, I dropped your milkshake on the way here. And not much, just, you know, a ghost invasion.” Danny’s laugh was bordering on hysterical.

“But you’re all safe?”

“Sam?” asked Danny. “How’s your arm?”

“I think it’s all right.” Sam grimaced as she held some tissues to the injury.

Jazz joined and led her to the kitchen. “Come on, let me clean that up for you. What happened?”

“A ghost threw a TV through a window. A piece of glass got me as we ran by.”

Tucker turned on the Fenton’s TV and switched to the news channel.

“I’m Shelly Makamoto and this is Ghost Watch,” an Asian woman said in a cheerful voice. “Ghosts, can you believe it, real ghosts are invading Amity Park right now. Emergency vehicles are struggling to get through the invasion, so if you are injured and in an area of high ghost concentration, help may be delayed. It is recommended you remain put and wait until first responders are able to get to your area. Currently, the ghosts are most focused on the downtown area, so the hospital is spared at this time. We can only hope this doesn’t change. Now, our weatherman Lance Thunder is out right now, so lets switch to him to get an on-the-scene report.”

They all watched in silence as a male reporter cowered behind an overturned car as he gave his report.

Sam and Jazz returned just a moment later. Sam had a large bandaid over her arm but shook her head when Danny shot her a questioning look.

“It’s fine. Clean cut.”

Tim relaxed as well. “Glad to hear it,” he said.

Jazz nodded. “Nothing to be concerned about at all. Thanks for getting the ghost shield up, Danny. I always forget which switch is the weapons and which is the shield.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed. She was lying. Why was she lying?

“Yeah, no problem. We’re gonna go to the lab. Tim and his friends have self defense training, Gotham, you know? So I want to see if we have any weapons in the vault that they’d be comfortable with.”

“Great. I’m gonna be in my room. As class president, I want to try and make sure everyone is safe so I’ll be on the phone with my door shut. Knock before you enter!” Then she was running back up the stairs and slamming the door to her room.

Tim exchanged a glance with Cassie. That was weird.

But next to him, Danny let out a breath. “Okay, so she’s out of the way. Sam, you sure you’re okay?

Sam grimaced. “It stings a bit, but it’s fine. Jazz put disinfectant and antibiotic cream on it.”

“Great. Well, not great.” Danny grimaced and Sam punched him on the arm.

Tim cleared his throat. “You said something about weapons?”

Conner nodded. “Yeah, did you say you have a weapons vault?”

Danny laughed. “You saw the home defense system. Are you really surprised?”

Cassie shook her head. “Your parents are evil scientists, aren’t they?”

Danny led them down a set of stairs. “I wouldn’t call them evil. They’re just… a bit single minded.”

And then Tim was standing in their lab for the first time. It was all silver chrome and neon green accents. But worse, it was messy. Half assembled inventions were scattered haphazardly over every surface. And was that a half eaten sandwich on the bench? Ectoplasm dripped off one of the counters onto a puddle on the floor.

Sam, Tucker, and Danny walked in without concern, but Tim and his team held back.

Danny realized they weren’t following and looked back in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“No offense,” said Bart as his eyes darted around, “But, uh, is it safe?”

“What do you mean?” asked Danny, but then he looked around and noticed the mess. “Ah. Hang on a sec. I’ll get you rubber gloves and boots you can slide on over your shoes. That’ll keep you safe enough.”

Sam helped and soon enough they were passing the protective gear over. Meanwhile, Tucker sat down at a computer and pulled up the news report so they could keep tabs on what was going on.

“Can we get eye protection as well?” asked Tim once he had everything on.

“Sure. Mom and Dad have plenty of goggles.” Danny grabbed a few of those as well.

Still not entirely comfortable, Tim finally stepped into the lab. On the far wall, behind yellow and black doors was the portal he’d heard so much about.

Danny followed his gaze and put a hand on his arm. “Come on, Tim. The weapons vault is over here.”

-----

Next

This should be enough to figure out which episode I'm using as the base for this arc! It's not quite the Ghost Fight people were hoping for in the comments of the last update, but I think this is gonna be better.

Tag List Part 1

@gremlin-bot, @bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @we-ezer, @markus209, @sjrose1216, @onyxlightdragon, @dragonsrequiem, @jesus-camp-the-sequel, @spidey29phangirl, @kyrianclawraith, @evilminji, @introvert-even-on-the-internet, @emergentpanda-blog, @lexdamo, @v-inari, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @longlivethefallen, @undead-essence, @xye-chan, @liandrin, @seraphinedemort, @kisatamao, @schalensitzbucket, @caelestisdreamer, @runfromthemedic, @nutcase8691, @channajen, @tonicmii, @ambiguouslyominous, @vythika96, @addie-lover-of-stories, @ironicvixen, @violetfox2, @pickleking8, @mysticalcomputerdetective, @ark12, @mygood-bitch99, @squirrel-wolf, @satisfactionbroughtmeback, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @automaticsoulharmony, @d4ydr34min9, @revnantdpxdclover, @midigeria, @raginblastocyst, @feral-bunny31, @lunaria618, @ghostreblogging, @ace-aro-as-shit

[inthelittlewood]

Hey Martyn! So, I got into your lore because of Grian's Life Series, and now I'm just trying to find some stuff out. Anyways, I understand most of it, though I do have a couple questions.

What actually are LOOT shards/crystals? I know that they're soke aort of corruption in games of sorta, but how do they get there, how to they affect the game, and also how to disable them. It's just something I'm wondering about since I know you have to find the one piece, of treasure, but how does it actually help?

What are CHEST agents? I know that they're something almost as evil as Cruppy, which is really saying something, but what actually are they?

Are there any extra lore bits in Rats SMP that you can't get anywhere else? I just wanna know if I should grit my teeth and watch it sometime, when I'm done catching up on the VODs of Pirates (can't make it to streams for personal reasons, alas).

If you've come up with it, is there any way that the Watchers lore from the Life Series ties into the datastream hopper lore? Those two just seem a little incompatible to me - hopping the datastream, being captured by mysterious godlike entities... Or are they just two separate universes?

Do you plan on posting the New Life streams on your vods channel?

Who in Pirates is p!Martyn closest to in each faction, overall?

Also, I think you may have mentioned it on stream, but did you take the faction quiz and if so, which faction did you get? I kid you not, when I took it I got Kestrels all three times (with changing the answers to stuff that I would still do, but different than first time, I mean). Had to change it up just to see all the different faction descriptions...

Ok, I think that's it. Sorry if I have bad formatting btw, I'm typing this out on phone. Thank you for taking the time to read my questions! Absolutely love your work and lore, while at the same time having the humour some don't. Keep on doing an amazing job. Hope you find your one piece, of treasure.

Have an ice day!

That's something I want to unveil in the next lore drop, so I'm really sorry to say SoonTM but this lore doesn't have all that many secrets atm

2. C.H.E.S.T agents work are avatars controlled by human operators working for C.H.E.S.T and its evil underbelly. They're a known and trusted public computing corporation but the public doesn't know the full extent of their goals and resources

3. I try to be pretty concise and unavoidable when I do my lore stuff, so you should be able to find the Rats segments in this playlist with ease: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3MFbfp1zo8dooC57HqfbizRoc07PdlFQ

4. Maaaaaaybe, people have noticed some parallels / links and all shall be revealed one day for sure, even if I'm like gonna quit doing videos and streaming, I'd just lore dump whatever isn't revealed so it's out there ha

5. A lot of my New Life streams are me just doing the grindy parts of the SMP and with the server being somewhat inactive I want to save the crossover / collab content for the videos - I'm not sure people would flock to a 3 hour vod of me painfully and slowly building an outpost or hollowing out a mountain to make a factory ya know?

6. Kestrels - probably Sausage, with Oli as a close second. Herons - Owen or Water. Owen has an inquisitive gene like Martyn and Water likes all things musical. Nightingales - Ros is so different to Martyn that it makes for some wholesome and chaotic interations, you never know which you'll get. Kites - Bek is basically the only one he's interacted with, he had a little banter on the seas with Kuervo but it was brief

7. I did! I surprisingly got Kestrel, or I guess, not surprisingly huh?

[grimgoregrimoire]

I'm sick of hearing; "Writing is a refreshing way to cleanse your mind and put you onto a better path."

Babes, this path may have been paved with good intentions, but it was recently patched up with glass shards and used needles.

Also I haven't slept in three days, so here's a list of other bullshit I'm sick of bitches saying to writers.

So much for refreshing.

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

Feckin Friday 22/03/24

🐈‍⬛️ 1. "Write what you know."

Okay, yes! You shouldn't bullshit your entire book, but also, don't be confined to only what you know. Do you think I know anything about corpse reanimation? Whelp, that didn't stop me! It's good to learn something new, and it's great for your writing to expand your repertoire. Hell, who knows? You might find your new niche. Besides, research is your best friend.

🦇 2. "But my friend, cousin, neighbor, cat's best friend's sister in law's spouse wrote their book in (a ridiculous small amount of time)!"

Well, good for them! They're still going to get slingshot into the sun with the rest of us anyway. Not everybody is the same, and the only thing that ALL writers have in common is that they write things! Find what works for you and tune out the rest of the bullshit, including your own. Don't bully yourself for not writing! We are only on this earth for a very small amount of time. Take care of yourself!

🐦‍⬛ 3. "You have to have a plan/outline/entire plot done before you start writing!"

This is just *ugh* bullshit. Like yeah, sure, if you're a normal person, I guess plot it! But you know what? I've got an illiterate, hyperactive squirrel behind the control panel of my brain, and he's on his sixth line of coke. All I have to say to this is JUST WRITE it'll either all come together when you go over it later or it will be cut. Either way, it's putting words on the page, and that's great practice.

🕷 4. "Writing is your only job, and you have to treat it as such."

Gross. Look, even if someone is lucky enough to be able to write as a full-time job, I guarantee you that writing isn't all that person has does.

A lot of us are parents or keep our houses, most of us are still in school, and a majority of us have to work at least part-time to afford to write!

Writing should be treated as a job in such a way that you take pride in it, but it shouldn't be something you're forced to do.

You know how people say, "If you love what you do, you never work a day."

There ya go.

🕸 5. "Follow this plan!" / "Writing’s easy!"

I have three things to say to that.

Bite me, bite me, bite me, BITE ME.

Look, I am so glad that Stephen King smokes three blunts and eats a pile of shrooms as a part of his routine, I AM SO HAPPY THAT WORKS FOR HIM! But it's not gonna work for me and it's probably not going to work for your poor stressed out little writer friend who is six months behind on sleep and is trying to catch up with shots of espresso and tall boys of redbull. We know you mean well, and we really appreciate hearing new things to try. Don't get that twisted! But I'm sorry, there is just no gospel or quick fix to writing.

What's some other shit you're sick of hearing people say? Come on! Let's trauma bond!

[miss-tc-nova]

Behind That Smile - Ruggie Bucchi x Reader

I like animal facts. Definitely recommend checking out the vet!yuu tag by blackopals-world.

Premise: Hyenas can bite through bone

Words: 1,537

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, Halloween event spoilers

~~~~~

               “Ruggie, if you don’t slow down, you’re gonna be sick.”

               Those cloudy-sky eyes manage to tear away from his plate long enough to peer up at me. It’s impressive he doesn’t choke as he swallows all the food in his mouth.

               “Are you kidding? I’m just getting started!” He catches sight of Epel walking by with a plate of meat and he awes. “Oh I haven’t tried that yet! I gotta go get some!”

               In a bolt, he’s out of his chair, already filling another plate. I shake my head with a sigh; however, at my side, the Diasomnian vice-housewarden chuckles.

               “Isn’t his appetite simply astounding?”

               “It’s impressive alright,” I hum. “I just wish he’d slow down before he chokes.”

               “But he still has so much to go through if he hopes to sample everything here,” Lilia says.

               He is right about that. Malleus, Lilia, Grim, and I had set out to help the ghosts enjoy the Halloween party that they missed. We had a beautiful venue, Malleus had the music covered, and we had the rest of Night Raven College on a scavenger hunt for mirror shards to fix our atmospheric lighting. However, one of the most astonishing features of the night were the tables absolutely stacked with food from all over Twisted Wonderland—courtesy of the ghosts themselves.

               And Ruggie is having the time of his life.

               Said hyena returns with various meat piled on his plate, but at the bottom sits a hunk of beef still clinging to the bone. It’s comically large and I honestly thought food like that only existed in cartoons. Yet Ruggie isn’t perturbed in the slightest as he chomps through everything he brought.

               I have a small chat with Lilia while Ruggie eats. It comes to a stop though when the hyena cleans the ridiculously large bone.

               “Finished already?” Lilia asks.

               “Not even.” He holds up the large bone in his hand. “This is the best part.”

               Without hesitation, Ruggie puts the skeletal matter into his mouth and bites.

               The crunching sound that follows shocks me to my core; it echoes in my ears. The sight of the splintered bone infests my brain and intrusive thoughts force me to imagine that as my arm. It’s mind blowing to think that this kid I’ve been hanging out with nearly every day could chomp through something so solid with such little effort.

               “My, that’s quite a bite you’ve got there,” Lilia remarks.

               Ruggie gives him a glance between getting at the marrow of the bone. “Yeah, I get told that often but it’s pretty normal in my family. My grammy used to give them to me when I was little.” He laughs. “She said it kept me quiet when I was annoying her.”

               “I’ll have to make note of that,” Lilia laughs. “I suppose that means there really isn’t much you won’t eat.”

               A shiver flies down my spine as he crunches the bone like candy. “Hey, if it’s edible, it’s worth trying at least once.”

               Throughout the rest of the night, I can’t get the image of Ruggie breaking bones out of my head. Again, the intrusive thoughts don’t help.

               The night ends and Malleus returns everyone safely to Night Raven College. There’s seems to be a lot of relief that Halloween has finally ended, but everyone agrees that it’s time to get some sleep.

               “So you had a hand in this entire mess.”

               My heart skips as Ruggie catches up to me and Grim on our way back to Ramshackle.

               “I guess you could say that.”

               “Heck yeah we did!” Grim climbs my costume to stand on my shoulder. “And we planned the best party ever!”

               “Yeah you did. The food was great.” Immediately, I divert my eyes away from Ruggie’s grin. I’m not sure I can ever look at that smile the same again.

               Though the conversation stays light, I keep my gaze occupied on the way back to my shabby little dorm. I would look at anything—the castle overhead, the rising sun, the rusted gate, the drowsy cat in my arms—as long as it wasn’t Ruggie.

               I tuck the blanket around my magic partner who quickly crashed on our way back. With a soft smile, I place his hat on the nightstand and stroke his head. The feline mumbles something about “awesome dance moves” as he rolls over to continue his dream.

               “Man, I thought he’d be up for hours with how wired he was,” Ruggie says as I close the door behind me.

               I glance down the hall, trying to put on a light-hearted air. “I think he just finally hit that sugar crash.”

               “Hey, are you okay?”

               “Yeah, I’m fine.”

               “Then why won’t you look at me?”

               Embarrassment simmers in my ears. This whole thing is stupid.

               “It’s nothing. I’m just being silly.” Raising my head, I look him in the eye and put on a smile. “I’m fine.” Immediately after those words leave my mouth, I can’t help glancing at his lips and my gaze instantly averts.

               “Yeah right. You’re avoiding me.” Ruggie ducks down, trying to look me in the eyes, but I just can’t. “Aw, c’mon. You mad at me or somethin’?”

               “N-No.” I avoid him again.

               “Then what?”

               The intrusive thoughts themselves aren’t really anything to be ashamed of. “Look, I just…I’m trying to block out the intrusive thoughts, okay?”

               There’s a pause. “What kind of intrusive thoughts?”

               But the contents of those thoughts kind of are.

               “Ruggie…” I groan.

               “Just tell me, will ya. You know I’m not gonna leave you alone ‘til you do.”

               He’s right—I know he won’t. It takes me a few moments filled with deep breaths and expectant stares to finally get the words out.

               “I’m just having a hard time getting the image of you crunching through that bone out of my head, okay? Can we just drop it now?”

               “The bone?” Glancing to him, I can see the gears turning in his head. “You’re not tellin’ me you’re scared of my bite now, are ya?”

               I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s less that I’m afraid and more that I can’t stop imaging you biting through things.”

               “You mean like this?”

               My stomach flips when the hyena grabs my arm. In a swift motion, he draws my sleeve back and brings the limb to his mouth, those massive, gleaming teeth resting against my skin. The image of that snapping bone fills my head. I shut my eyes and brace for the core-rattling snapping sound and the inevitable pain to follow.

               Instead I hear a soft chuckle. Warm, gentle lips meet my skin, instantly drawing my gaze back. Embers smolder behind his eyes as he trails soft kisses down to the back of my hand. A last reverent press of his lips meets my knuckles before his fingers intertwine with mine.

               “You gotta know I could never hurt you.” Even his voice is infested with the heat quickly enflaming my own bashfulness. This smooth criminal then leans in, lips brushing against my cheek causing the air to hitch in my chest. “Not even if my life depended on it.”              

               Then, Ruggie retreats, that ever-lovable simper warped into something warm and gentle. Meanwhile, with my skin on fire, I press against the wall in an attempt to keep myself from collapsing. I’m positive his ears—even hidden beneath that marauder’s hat—can hear the pounding in my chest. And if he didn’t hear that, the shuddering exhale from my mouth is probably thoroughly satisfying.

               “What’s wrong, sugar?” he asks, absolutely full of himself right now.

                My free hand presses to my face in a shoddy attempt to calm my nerves. “What a cruel criminal you are to toy with my feelings like this.”

               “All in a days work for a scurvy pirate—stealin’ such precious treasures as hearts, shyehehe.” There’s that smooth tongue. “But who said I was playin’?”

               The grip on my hand tightens and I swear he’s squeezing my heart.

               “Ruggie…?”

               “Didn’t even need to trick-or-treat to get me the best prize.” Some of his mischief returns. “Man, a full feast and I get the cutest kid on campus? I really did make off like a pirate with all the treasure this year.”

               It seems my legs are stable enough to hold their own weight again. “I don’t know about that.”

               “Oh I do. I could just eat you up.” He laughs in the face of my glare. “Too soon?”

               “I’m going to bed now.”

               My announcement doesn’t seem to deter Ruggie from pestering me, chattering about random things. Yet I’m not entirely inclined to send him off. Instead, he sheds his coat and boots and flops onto the bed beside me—his hand finding mine like the greedy man he is. It doesn’t take long after that for the conversation to lull and consciousness to drift.

               Those intrusive thoughts return frequently from then on out. Ruggie always had the potential to seriously hurt me. But every time he smiles, I’m reminded of that pirate in Ramshackle on Halloween night. I remember just how gentle that mouth can be—and how quickly it can sink those fangs into my heart.

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[arkacarian]

This is the best cut content I’ve ever heard of.

I’m really sad this minigame was cut. Having a kind of rhythm game (I guess?) would have been really neat, and been… y’know, more than just three games, even though Checkerboard Chase is pretty fun.

I don’t care that this was cut from the final game, I’m considering it canon. Imagining these four in a little band trying to play is hysterical, especially because of the instruments they all have.

I’m gonna ramble about that now so if you don’t wanna read all that, here’s the cutoff for just my initial thoughts. If you wanna read more, here’s my insanity over this one image.

The instruments they have is just great. Dedede on drums is very fitting, and did end up returning later. Dedede’s Drum Dash exists after all, so obviously he loves his drums. Waddle Dee just having a tambourine and not something like a bass guitar is so funny. They look like a rock band or something because of the other three, but he just brought tambourines and they ran with it. Kirby, being the main character, of course has that leading instrument, the electric guitar. And Adeleine can play the keyboard so she isn’t just skilled in the traditional art, like drawing and painting, because apparently she can play piano too.

How is Kirby playing the guitar. He doesn’t have fingers. He doesn’t even really have arms, he just has nubs. What kind of guitar is that? How is he doing that?

Waddle Dee looks so happy to be there, like he’s glad that his friends aren’t mad that he forgot the bass and now they have to make do with tambourines.

Dedede looks mad for some reason? Like “I hate these drums I can’t jump on them what’s the point”.

That is a very large keyboard because Adeleine is standing on her tiptoes to reach it. And she’s one of the tallest characters in the whole series. She’s also more to the side where Kirby, Waddle Dee, and Dedede are all closer together. Are keyboard players usually off to the side? Does Adeleine just need space when she’s preforming? Does she feel like an outcast because she’s human?

The logo on Dedede’s drums looks like “K4” and I mean… the Kirby 4? Because there’s four of them? Or maybe 4 because 64?

Adeleine looks more like her design in Dream Land 3 in this. Her hair looks like it’s more in her face, but in Crystal Shards (and in all her later appearances) her entire forehead is bare, except a small strand of hair in her updated Star Allies design.

Kirby is so happy. He’s just smiling. Granted, he’s almost always smiling in Crystal Shards, since he smiles the whole way through all the levels when you’re just walking. But he looks especially happy here.

I wonder what songs they’d be playing? Maybe just some simple music, or music from the game or other Kirby games? A semi-rock remix of the Pop Star theme would be pretty awesome. Kirby just does an insane riff in the middle of it while his friends are still playing the theme normally. He would do that, and then look at them, and they’d all be stunned and he’d be smiling like that’s just how the song goes. Or they’d do Dedede’s normal theme and he’d be going all in on those drums the whole time while everyone else tries to play louder to balance it out.

Since I feel like this is still canon despite being cut, sometimes they’ll all get out their instruments (Adeleine just painting a keyboard) and play stuff for everyone. All the other Dream Friends are around in the castle making requests, and maybe Bandee remembers to grab a bass this time.

They play some songs suggested by everyone else, and then randomly throw in something to catch them off guard and either freak them out or delight them. Marx getting too annoying? Just start playing Kirby’s Triumphant Return! Meta Knight looking unimpressed? Time to play Sword of the Surviving Guardian! Want to remind Taranza that his girlfriend is dead? Moonstruck Blossom time!

Yeah I really like this cut minigame.

[dark-side-blog3]

How would you rank each yandere Team Bucciarati member from least to most terrifying to be considered a rival marked for death by?

This is based on my opinion, but the top two are definitely tied in terms of how scary it is because it really depends on what you find worse. I personally find it way scarier to think about a sudden violent death than one that's still going to be violent, but has you waiting for the shoe to drop. One of those you at least get to steel yourself for, and prepare mentally to die. The other one just happens. Way scarier, at least to me.

Also some of the guys on this list (MISTA) are the absolute worst to be marked as a rival for, but death itself isn't that bad. So when you asked for death specifically, I just focused on the aspect of dying.

That said, I hope you enjoy~!

++++++++++++++++

Leone is the least dangerous by far. He is still a force to be reckoned with, but he's the least dangerous because he hardly ever feels insecure enough to kill someone else for you. It's like that statistic on how cows kill more people than sharks a year: that number would change drastically if people waded waist-deep in the water with a bunch of sharks and poked them with a stick for hours every day.

Leone will bribe, blackmail, intimidate, and steal from anyone that catches him stalking you and intends to inform you--- If he's doing it right, you'd never know you've been tailed until you die. But if someone catches him watching you, or worse: A stand user discovered him stalking you because he was using Moody Blues, and insisted to do the right thing by telling you, then Leone would have to kill them. Before they can tell you.

The best option for a surprise attack like this would be a gun, but there's no guarantee that will work. And Moody Blues isn't a combat stand. Leone will taunt and beat them up just enough to entice them to chase after him as he runs away instead of telling you about the stalker.

It's cowardly, but so is killing someone after getting caught peeping. Leone takes zero pride in luring them into alleyways; with lower-rank thugs in passione that will gang up on the rival with enough "persuasive" blackmail and bribes Leones gives them in advance. If a group won't overwhelm them, it at least gives Leone enough time to call for backup from a more combat-oriented stand user like Narancia or Mista, and study how his rival's stand works.

They won't be walking out of that alley alive that night. Leone's taken too many precautions to get caught like this.

++++

Mista is scary to be a rival of, but being marked for death is a blessing.

Mista isn't above torturing or kicking the shit out of people who really overstep their boundaries; like if they try to pick on you the same way he does. And he'll make his displeasure known. Dickheads usually back off if a guy who's clearly carrying drapes himself over their target, staking his claim with a little PDA. If they want to press the issue further, Mista will gladly take the time for some entertainment.

Mista likes taking a little time in torturing someone; get a little creative with glass shards shoved under fingernails and into the roof of their mouth-- at an angle so there's no chance of the little shards being plucked out easily. And there's something to be said in using someone's teeth to open beer bottles and stubborn pop can tabs for him, even if it means their teeth chip or they cut their gums. And usually, one night of this means you won't have to worry about them anymore. People rarely come back for seconds of Guido's sadism.

But, under rare circumstances, there comes a time when Mista can't just let someone keep meddling anymore. And kicking their ass three times didn't work... So he's gonna light 'em up.

It's not like he didn't give them a fair warning. Mista won't make it as impersonal as a drive-by, as much as the idea of being the cool guy is, he could be cooler if he delivered a kickass one-liner while breaking their back over his knee. Or said something badass as he shoves his gun's muzzle into their mouth, something Brad Pitt or Nic Cage would say to a low-time villain in an action movie, right before blowing their brains out. If the one-liner ain't cool... Then he'll just say a better one after they've died. No one will know but him, anyways.

+++

Bruno can and will make their death public. He's already been shown to torture people on the bus and no one will say a fucking thing, and he knows that making an example by killing someone will serve as a good warning to others. Granted, Bruno will fudge a bit of the story...

He's not killing them because he likes you and they're someone you're interested in! Bruno is killing them because they stole millions of dollars from the city, acted as a money mule for a more violent organization that doesn't have this town's best interest at heart, and also just so happened to almost kill a civilian who made their payments on time because they wanted to sleep with them! This guy is the scum of the earth, even for a thug!

During their fight, Bruno will spit out these phrases that allow the audience to piece together the (fake) story on their own. Bruno is once again being a good guy doing bad things, and he's selflessly fighting against a more dangerous thug to keep everyone safe-- including that poor victim of molestation and near rape! Which, for his story to work, has to be you.

Bruno knows that he can only get away with so much, however. Torturing someone to death is fine, and he's done so before. But this story needs to have him being the righteous hero for you. Ripping them apart with his stand isn't the way to do this-- at least not in a way anyone can see. He'll use sticky fingers to unzip the internal organs inside of their body, letting them die in a way that mimics being beaten to death. Less blood spray means people won't panic as much, which makes him look better in the eyes of the people while scaring the shit out of future would-be rivals.

The public humiliation aspect of their death is horrifying; imagine being brutally beaten to death in public, and all the people who should be helping you are just watching, some with a sadistic glint in their eyes because you "deserve" this.

++++

Fugo is the scariest member, depending on what you'd find scarier: Certain death that you know is coming, and you just can't tell when it's going to happen... Or just a sudden violent death, like an aneurysm, with no idea what you did wrong. If you're more afraid of the anticipation of dying, knowing it's coming, yet unable to do anything about it but wait... Then Fugo is by far the scariest yandere of the gang to be marked for death.

Pannacotta is possessive, and on a hair trigger for violent outbursts, so he's scary to be around even if you aren't a rival marked for death. It's only worse because even before getting into range, Fugos stares them down with a look that only means whatever he wants to do is premeditated.

He won't bring out purple haze unless he's picked a fight with someone way stronger than him-- his stand could kill him too. Beating the fuck out of them the old-fashioned way is going to have to do. And it's not like he can't fight on his own. Fugo uses anything in reach to bludgeon or stab at them.

It's animalistic. Every hit or scratch Fugo gets back as he's caving their ribs in enrages him, triggering an animalistic need to kill. He tries to sit on top of their broken ribs, hoping his weight is enough to keep them pinned to the ground as he

There's no planning. If he's lucky enough to tail or lure them into somewhere secluded, it's obviously better, but if it's public, then it's public. People know better than to try to pry someone in the middle of a fight off each other-- at least if they're known members of Bruno Bucellatis's gang, and by implication: the mafia. Everyone smart will mind their own fucking business and get the fuck out. The only people stupid enough to intervene are tourists, that quickly get roped into the carnage when they grab Fugo's shoulder to pull him off the other corpse, only to wind up bludgeoned too.

+++++

If we're talking about how scary it is for a guy to just charge at you like a rabid dog with zero regard for his own safety or pain so long as he kills you, then Narancia is definitely up top in terms of fear factor.

The level of certainty in being hunted by Narancia is terrifying. You will not survive. You won't even last an hour-- once he gets it in his head that you're a nuisance to him or his darling, he is going to hunt you down. Using his stand to spray the streets with bullets, going up to random people and slamming them into walls or kicking them to the ground to see if they're who he's looking for, starting fires to smoke them out of buildings or die in the burning rubble.

Narancia at the very least has to be provoked into killing someone, so that does put a damper on how scary he is... And unlike provoking Fugo, its easier to tell if you're going to get yourself killed. Narancia isn't going to kill someone for talking to his darling, or trying to hang out with them when he's not around (because that's easy: He'll just tag along).

But that doesn't make it any less scary because if Narancia decides you're going to die, it's something he does right away. There is no warning, no way to mentally prepare yourself. It just starts. Narancia is hunting them down, screaming and swearing as he pounds himself against any doors or walls in the way, slashing wildly with his switchblade, spraying the streets with bullets, setting fires, and trying to bite them-- and they're probably not going to know why he wants to kill them suddenly, because the inciting incident maybe warrants a punch in the face, not a knife in their kneecaps while Narancia fucking bites their nose off, and slashes across their chest with his other switchblade in front of everyone, promising to slice them small enough to cram down a toilet and piss on.

Narancia is the scariest because there is no restraint. If he's killing you, it's violent and erratic.

[yakool-foolio]

If the Professor's waxwork model has been returned, hopefully we'll be able to see what it looks like! If the model was always going to be returned even without the ransom, then what was the true purpose of it being stolen, I wonder? My best guess is that it served as a distraction... WAIT GAME THEORY: WAS ASMAN THE PROFESSOR? The killer could've used the model as a nonliving body double for Asman and nobody would be able to tell the difference if they couldn't find the model.

Well, he may be headless, but he's no horseman. Damn Enoch, the stress must've really gotten to ya for your hair to turn all white. SHOLMES FEED YOUR KID JEEZ LOUISE! A thick shard of glass, hm? Like it came from, I dunno, THE CRYSTAL TOWER? My theory very well may be correct, huzzah!

Hooooly shit that's a Hellhound if I've ever heard of one. Sounds incredibly brutal, me likey the grim implications (Blank Week enthusiasts where ya at?). 'The Great Departed Soul' has a double meaning; the 'resurrection' of both Kazuma and The Professor. OH so it was the stress, forgive me Enoch for my joke I was actually /srs.

Unfortunately my friend group had to stop early for tonight cause of technical difficulties, but we're gonna try to catch up to speed tomorrow night. As compensation, have some extra miscellaneous TGAA thoughts of mine (mostly music related cause I can't help myself).

So if Klint's spirit is The Reaper, then there could be some unchecked wrath not just directed at his killer, but perhaps defendants as a whole? Thinking with ghost logic here, ghosts tend to remain on the mortal plane whenever they have unfinished business, such as when their death is unjust and their killer is still walking around a free man. So if The Professor is indeed still alive, then that would be a good reason as to why Klint's spirit seems to follow his younger brother around. The motive Klint's spirit could have in causing the deaths of the defendants prosecuted by Barok might be due to unkempt rage of his own killer still being at large, unbeknownst to most of London. He's not taking any chances at letting other potential killers go free, so he effectively curses them with a curt death so they won't harm anyone else. Klint might also not know what his killer, The Professor, looked like, so he's basically doing the ghost equivalent of firing randomly into a crowd of suspicious-looking individuals. This is all just taking the idea of a ghost causing all these deaths literally so uhhh a thick layering of salt is needed to properly ingest this take. I apologize for your high blood pressure after this.

In my escapades of assigning lawyers n prosecutors Monster Hunter themes, I've made an exception and want to give Sholmes Ruby Basarios' theme. It one of the very few consistently happy-go-lucky sounding monster themes in the whole series, which fits him being the comedic relief while also having a few off-kilter bits much like Sholmes' actual theme to showcase his roundabout way of deducting. It also features some tap dancing-esque percussion, which I love associating with the dance of deduction.

I absolutely love how Adjudication (how the track's named on Spotify is what I go off of) sounds almost like a waltz. It really evokes the feeling of the dance of death--Danse Macabre--between the lawyer and the prosecutor. It's a delicate balance of life and death any way ya look at it. One misstep could lead to your dance partner cracking their head against the floor. And we don't want anyone else to end up with a serious case of amnesia here, right?

Whisper On The Breeze by TWRP is such an Asoryu song it makes me melt. The Great Departure is all the more bittersweet to me because of it. Like hoo man these lyrics:

(To Whom It May Concern - @raymondshields)

[weaksspot]

sam splinting dean's broken fingers for @preseriesdean <3 (read on ao3)

In some grimy gas station bathroom mirror Dean stares down his reflection until he can’t stand it a second longer. His fist goes through the glass and right into the brick wall behind it. The angle is bad and there’s the snap of two fingers breaking, but no pain. No pain as he picks out the little shards of glass and flecks of grit and drops them into the sink, turns the water on, a swirl of blood chasing the pieces down the drain.

He tapes the broken fingers—right hand, little and ring—to each other with duct tape from the trunk of the car, tears it off the roll with his teeth. He drives back to the bunker barely touching the wheel. It still doesn’t hurt.

Sam doesn’t see him till the next morning, when he catches him by the coffee maker, both of them still kind of bleary. Neither one of them’s been sleeping much, not for weeks. Sam mumbles hey, Dean, without really looking at him, and Dean hms back, goes on pouring himself his coffee.

Then Sam asks, quietly: “What happened to your hand?”

For a second Dean just stands there not saying anything. Thinks about saying nothing, not answering at all, just going. Even being in a room with Sam just now—he can stand it, because he has to, but it’s—difficult. Some days are worse than others.

“Dean?”

He looks down at his hand. His knuckles are swollen and scabbed over and there’s still blood between his fingers, in the creases of his skin, because he slept in his clothes last night, didn’t shower. It looks like it should hurt. Why doesn’t it hurt.

“Nothing,” he says, feeling Sam’s eyes burning into his back. “Just hit something too hard, it’s fine.”

“Let me see,” Sam says, not really a question, not quite a plea.

“I said it’s fine.” Dean turns to go and Sam is closer than he’d thought, just behind him—Dean turns and almost knocks into him and it’s just about the closest they’ve been to each other all week.

Sam grabs his wrist and the contact fizzes under Dean’s skin. Crawls right up his arm. Sam’s skin on his skin. Jesus fucking Christ he misses him, and he sees him every god damn day. He stands there and stares at Sam’s hand while Sam looks at his taped up fingers, his busted knuckles. His voice is quiet when he speaks again.

“Dean, I need to splint these properly,” he says. His voice is steady but there’s something in it that makes Dean’s throat hurt, scratchy at the back. “They’re gonna heal crooked.”

“What’s it matter,” comes out of Dean’s mouth without him really meaning to let it. Sam doesn’t say anything but he exhales slowly, that zen yoga breath shit he does when he’s trying to keep his temper. What are you mad at me for now, Dean wants to ask him, but doesn’t. Sam is still holding his wrist and Dean can feel his own pulse under Sam’s thumb.

“Come here,” Sam says, and steers him, by the wrist, to the table. “Sit down.”

Dean sits. Sam leaves the room just long enough to get a first aid kit, comes back and sits down beside him, scoots his chair over so their knees are almost touching. Not long ago Dean would’ve knocked them together on purpose, or slung a leg over Sam’s, maybe, if he was in that kind of mood. Now he twitches his leg to the side to avoid it, even as Sam reaches for his hand again, lifts it up and sets it on the table as if Dean wouldn’t be capable of doing that himself.

Sam’s got tweezers in his hand and he starts on picking the little bits of dirt out of Dean’s knuckles that Dean had missed, the tiny pieces that are stuck in deep. Dislodging them makes him bleed all over again, breaks open scabs that had spent the night forming, and Sam all calm and steady mops the blood away and goes on working. He uses scissors to cut away the duct tape, so he doesn’t hurt Dean’s broken fingers by pulling on it.

It hurts anyway. For the first time, now, here, with Sam handling him so carefully. Now it hurts.

“Ouch,” he murmurs, as Sam real careful cleans up the surface damage first, alcohol stinging the scraped-off skin. As he fits the splint to Dean’s fingers the bones shift and pain shoots up right into his wrist, so sudden the shock of it makes him jerk. Sam squeezes his wrist to keep him still and goes on working until Dean says, breathless, “Sammy, you’re hurting me.”

Sam lets go of him altogether and Dean looks up at him, for the first time this morning, and sees him put his hands over his face. Watches his shoulders shudder as he breathes in. Then he takes his hands away and for just an instant Dean is afraid he might be crying. He isn’t. He looks Dean in the face, steady, and says: “We’re almost done.”

No answer from Dean, so he goes back to what he was doing—secures the splint, tapes gauze over Dean’s knuckles, and Dean sits there with his whole hand throbbing with pain and it’s the realest sharpest thing he’s felt in an age and for just a second he wishes, fleetingly, that he could stay here and go on feeling it and not have to go back to—to the constant fear, to the guilt that feels like a bear trap is crushing his throat all the god damn time, so huge and unfaceable that guilt feels like far too small a word for it. To the dead nerve numbness that consumes all the rest.

Let him have this glowing pain instead, and the warmth of his brother’s careful hands.

Anything else. Let him have anything else.

“There,” Sam says, when he’s done, and Dean looks at him and there’s that rock in the pit of his stomach as he thinks, he’s not ever gonna love me the same way again. Dean looks at his brother and knows he’s looking at something that he’s broken beyond repair. Sam looks—pensive, hesitant, like there’s something he wants to say but hasn’t decided if he’s going to yet. It’s a look he wears often, lately, and most of the time he doesn’t end up saying anything. They don’t talk a lot, these days. What would there be to say.

Sam is still holding his wrist, and Dean misses him like his chest is caving in.

He lifts Dean’s hand, then, and without reason, without warning, presses his knuckles to his lips and kisses him there, just once, over the gauze, with his eyes closed. Then he lets go and gets up and puts away the first aid kit, and leaves the room without a word, and Dean sits there where Sam leaves him, and the pain is unbearable, and there is nothing he can do but bear it.

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xxxiv // Nervous

One of those chapters where I have to put some warnings here on tumblr, so stop reading this blurb if you have no squicks and don't want to spoil the chapter. [CONTENT WARNINGS: Sadistic choice, graphic depictions of gore, vivisection of a limb, threats of paralyzation and nerve damage.] Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

At least it doesn’t sound like they’re going to kill him right away.

Is that a good thing? Conrad isn’t so sure anymore. He finds his thoughts spiraling down grim paths as Renee returns with a bundle of blue nylon rope in his hands. His fear only grows when Davin gets up and takes the rope, sliding the knife out of his pocket, flicking it open. It catches the light, shine the same greyish white as the clouds outside.

Conrad watches as Davin measures out a yard of rope, bends it, and starts sawing at its threads with the knife. Then he does it again. And again. And again. Conrad’s stomach sinks beneath the floorboards. He feels like throwing up, but he just sits there frozen, even as he the breeze through the broken window tussles his hair.

“I understand,” he says quietly. A shot in the dark.

When Davin has four yard-long pieces in his hand, he throws the remainder of the rope into a heap by the wall and flicks the knife closed.

Renee watches from the sidelines, eyes intent not just on Conrad, but on Davin, too.

“You don’t have to show me what… what you mean,” Conrad says. “I understand…”

Davin pauses, looking at him. “I’m not convinced you do,” he says dispassionately. Takes a deep breath as he clips the knife back in his pocket. “Renee, I’m going to need your help for a minute.”

“With what?” Renee asks. There’s something almost cautious about his tone.

Davin doesn’t seem to mind it. “I’d like to tie Conrad to the table,” he says evenly.

Conrad feels the air seep out of his lungs, right down to the last particle.

“He’s gonna try to fight back this time around,” Davin adds, almost as an afterthought. He smirks as he looks at Renee. “Don’t take it personally. He fights when he has something to lose.”

The void in Conrad’s chest fills suddenly at his sharp intake of breath, and he staggers to his feet, head pounding. Stumbles a few steps backward, nearly pushing over the chair.

There’s a split second in which they all just stare at each other, him at them, they at him. Then Conrad grits his teeth, turns on his heel and makes it for the window.

He knew he wouldn’t make it far, but it still comes as a cold shock when Renee knocks into him from behind, sending them both sprawling to the floor. Conrad feels the sting as his upper arm slides over hardwood, lodging shards of glass in his skin, and Renee, landing badly on his broken arm, lets out a grunt, but is still quick to gather his bearings.

Before Conrad can push himself up fully, Renee has looped his legs around his waist, reaching up to yank his head back by the hair, and Conrad feels himself keel backwards, landing with his bare back against the hardwood floor, crying out as more glass bites in. At the same time, Renee has pushed himself up, straddling his waist. He puts his left hand around Conrad’s throat and stops just short of squeezing, eyes wide. “Try me, bitch.” His broken arm hovers by his side, barely moving even as he pants hard with the sudden rush of adrenaline.

Somewhere above them, Davin snorts. “Told you.”

Both hands wrapped around Renee’s wrist, Conrad pushes back against the looming weight threatening to cut off his air supply. “Davin,” he croaks out, “Davin, I understand, okay? I understand, I—”

The pressure suddenly lets up as Renee shifts his hand to get a firm grasp in his hair, and steps up, dragging Conrad along with him.

“Stomach or back?” Renee asks.

“Stomach,” Davin says.  

Conrad lets out a groan at the pain in his scalp. As soon as Renee has dragged him to his feet, he lets go and pushes him towards the table.

“W-wait,” Conrad breathes, holding out his hands. “Wait, please—”

But both of them are walking towards him now, slowly, and the only thing he can do is back up, and soon he bumps into the dining table. He stares at their approach wide-eyed, feeling the dread building in his throat, and his knees start to get weak. Conrad is a cornered animal, a rabbit watching as the wolves zero in.

Renee is the first to reach for him. Conrad shies away as if his touch is pure fire, but then Davin is there, and Conrad freezes for just a moment too long, and Renee’s hand clasps around his wounded forearm, and Davin’s cold hands wrap around his other wrist.

“No!”

Conrad begins to struggle blindly, pulling back for every push and vice versa, clawing at clothes, trying to writhe out of their grasp, but it’s no use. They turn him around, and each man grabs an arm, and then they part ways, pulling him forward along the table. “Wait,” Conrad cries out, “please just listen to me, please just wait—”

Conrad’s feet leave the ground. At that point, they drag him forward with relative ease, until they reach the opposite end, and Conrad finds himself lying fully on the table.

Davin throws two pieces of rope to Renee. Conrad kicks forward with his legs to get enough leverage to twist free of the man’s grasp, but Davin is surprisingly strong. No matter which way he turns his arm, the vice-like grip never falters. “Davin, please,” he breathes, “please trust me when I, when I say I understand you, please j-just listen to me!”

The look of determination on Davin’s face doesn’t falter in the slightest, as he loops the rope around Conrad’s wrist and uses it to pull his hand further toward the leg of the table. Renee does the same on the other side, although he struggles to tie the knots, wincing as he has to use his broken arm. Neither of them look him in the eye.

“Davin,” Conrad wheezes. “Davin—”

As soon as Conrad’s wrist is secured, Davin starts making a loop in the other piece of rope. His hands work methodically, tying the knots.

“Davin, just talk to me,” Conrad says. “You can just talk to me, you don’t have to, to do anything, you don’t have to show me.”

Davin finally looks at him then.

Conrad swallows. “You can just t-talk to me.”

The man lets out a short breath through his nose. Then he walks back towards the other end of the table, grabbing Conrad’s leg and tying the loop around his ankle. Conrad lets out a yelp as he is pulled backwards as far as he can go, and the ropes around his wrist dig painfully into the abrasions, his chin hits the table. He feels the way his body is outstretched, stomach flat against wood. His heart is beating in his ears. He strains against it, but then Renee grabs him by his free leg, pulling backwards as well.

For each shallow breath, he makes a small sound. Rope against skin, pulled taught, the pinprick of discomfort as the hairs on his legs get caught between the threads. Conrad realizes he’s breathing too quickly and groans, swallowing thick as he tries to get his terror under control. Much like being strung from the rafters upstairs, he feels exposed, sprawled out like this.

Soon after the final knot has been tied, there’s a new sensation, and Conrad tries to look over his shoulder, but can’t even get enough leverage to do even that. He feels tugging at the fabric of his pants, on his right thigh, just above the knee.

The sound of a pocket knife clicking open again.

“Davin…?” Conrad manages to say between shallow breaths.

The sound of fabric being cut. The feeling of the cold air from outside hitting skin there. Another click of the pocket knife closing, sending a wave of relief through his body.

Davin comes back into view. The shoulder bag which Conrad knows carries his medical supplies stands on a sideboard by the wall, and from there, he pulls out a roll of fabric. Walks up in front of the end of the table, setting the roll down next to Conrad’s arm. Pauses.

As soon as Conrad lifts his head to meet the man’s expressionless eyes, Davin unclicks a button on the roll of fabric with his thumb, and unfurls it in front of his face.

They almost look like pencils at first, the thin objects neatly lined within the fabric.

They’re not.

They’re scalpels.

Conrad feels like his heart is pressing against his larynx. He hears Renee chuckle somewhere to his left. “Dh… don’t do this,” he says hoarsely, head spinning against a growing feeling of dizziness.

Davin’s hand hovers over the scalpels. He picks one up delicately, twisting it between his fingers, and Conrad sees the light catch in its razor sharp edge.

“Don’t do this.”

Scalpel in hand, Davin walks out of view again. Conrad twists in his restraints, watching the man disappear down his side.

“Please don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me. Please don’t d—”

There’s a sharp pain in the back of his thigh, starting out small but growing exponentially the further the blade cuts. Conrad lets out a whine as it rushes over him, feeling the blade carve along a c-shape. The knife lifts then, but before the pain can pass, it starts again, in the same place as before. Conrad can feel his flesh part, and he strains against his restraints, throat closing, head spinning with it. When he finally has enough air to do so, he lets out a scream.

Always starting in the same place, along the same trajectory, layer by layer.

Along with the blinding pain rippling through his ruined body, almost like the cold-hot flashes of a fever, there’s something new, a visceral feeling of wrongness, of intrusion, of the terrifying realization just how deep the blade slices. His attempts to writhe out of the path of the knife prove futile, his shaking hands claw desperately at wood, nails cracking against the surface of the table. The smell of blood fills the air he desperately heaves in.

 “Stop!” he manages to cry out, “S-stop, please stop, please stop—”

Davin keeps going.

It feels like he’s carefully amputating the whole leg, one cut at a time. Feels like he’s already several inches down, like at any moment, he’s going to start sawing through the femur. Conrad can barely hear his own screams through the deafening screech of agony, feels as his grasp on the world begins to slip, as his mind cascades into a whirlwind. Up and down, left and right, they all begin to blur. It’s all he can do to keep the air whistling in and out of his lungs, heart galloping in his chest.

Time has no meaning. Conrad just screams. Screams to empty his lungs, and hauls in the next breath just so he can scream again.

The blade stops, and there is a pause.

Shuddering with the aftershocks of pain, Conrad’s cheek is pressed to the table, and he blinks, dazed. Lets out a whine, and then another.

“Take a deep breath, Conrad.”

If his heart could sink out of his chest, it probably would. Now that the immediate pain is beginning to fade, he can feel the pool of blood that has collected on the table under his thigh, feels the way it has seeped into the fabric of his pants, all the way down to his shin.  

He takes a deep breath.

He feels fingers reach into the gaping wound on the back of his thigh. And then something happens.

There is a point at which pain ceases to be comprehensible to the mind, like the scope of infinity, or the vastness of the ocean. The brain lacks capacity to describe it, can only compartmentalize certain aspects of it at a time. Where it easily identifies location and kind, it suddenly struggles to pinpoint severity.

Conrad feels as though his entire right leg, from his foot to his hip, has been doused in a strong acid, set ablaze, crushed, mangled. There’s waves of it, rolling through his flesh. His screams take on an animalistic quality, tearing through his vocal cords as he mindlessly writhes in place.

And then it stops, leaving him gasping, blinking stars out of his eyes, struggling to comprehend what just happened.

Somewhere, distantly, Davin clears his throat. “What you just felt was me running my nail along two of the largest branches of your femoral nerve,” he says calmly. “One is called the saphenous nerve, and it supplies your calf. It’s purely sensational – touch, pain, heat, cold, et cetera. The other is articular and supplies your knee joint, lets you move around.”

Conrad can’t begin to understand what Davin just said. “Stop,” he whimpers.

“If I sever your saphenous nerve,” Davin continues, “I imagine it’ll feel worse than what I just did, but you’ll still be able to walk. If I sever your articular nerve, you won’t feel a thing, but you’ll be paralyzed in your knee for the rest of your life. No more fucking running.”

Conrad lets out a dry sob. It’s half-hearted and exhausted, the kind of sob that only comes when you’re at your wit’s end, rocking through his tired chest, grating in a throat hoarse from screaming.

Davin walks back into his field of view. The man’s hands held casually at his sides are coated in blood, the scalpel nearly disappearing in all the red. It drips from his fingers onto the floor. “I’m going to give you the choice, Conrad. Saphenous or articular?”

Teeth gritted, Conrad barely manages to suppress another sob, chin resting on the table. He’s too tired to even lift his head up to look Davin in the eye. “N-no,” he croaks out. “I w-won’t, I won’t try it again. I promise, I promise, Davin, I’m begging you—”

“I think you’re in the kind of mood where you’d tell me anything you think I want to hear. But you got it wrong, Conrad. All I want to hear is you making a decision.”

“No, pl-… I mean it, I won’t try anything again, so you don’t have to, to, to do anything, you don’t—”

“If you don’t choose, I’ll cut both.”

Conrad’s voice breaks. “No, Davin—no, don’t do this to me, don’t—”

Davin starts walking back to his leg.

“No, wait, wait wait wait wait!”

The man stops in his tracks.

Waits.

Conrad has already felt it once. The damage is done, isn’t it? What’s a second similar memory to the prospect of paralyzation?

His voice is shaking. “Th-the s… the s…s-saph…”

“Saphenous?”

Conrad lets out a breath. “Yh… yes.”

“Very well.”

He has to face that terror again, the knowledge of what he has to go through, a fresh recollection already missing entire chunks of time from an experience too extreme to remember correctly. Conrad begins hyperventilating as Davin disappears out of view, shuts his eyes tight. How do you prepare yourself for something like this?

You don’t.

You can’t.

Snip.

His vision fails, blinding white in an instant. There’s one hard spasm, after which his body goes rigid, from his legs to his fingers, frozen into claws. His mind slides off a cliff, tumbling into the raging waters below. The air, rancid with the smell of blood, squeezes its way past a mostly closed throat to a chest that can only move in small increments at a time. A gasp gets choked back, dies. The ringing in his ears fades into silence.

At last, Conrad lets out a moan, and slides into a deep darkness, where the pain cannot follow him. 

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[clumsiestgiantess]

Second addition of @entomolog-t ‘s Soul Shard AU  (the smaller pov):

I have no clue what happened, and only had a split second to figure it out before I was thrown backwards by a force much stronger than I expected.  The ground beneath me jerked forwards too quickly for me to catch myself, and I fell over on my back, the air briefly knocked out of my lungs.  Once I managed to sit back up, my blood ran cold.  I had some hint of where I was by the distinct rumble of a motor beneath me, but as I gazed around at the undersides of seats raised way too far above my head, I was simultaneously thrilled and terrified.  I was me, but not – a smaller version of myself.  Which could only mean.. whoever is driving this car is my soulmate.  Why else would I have ended up like this?  Suddenly seeing everything at a smaller scale meant that I was only one small portion of my soul at the moment, and I'd been brought directly to whoever was destined to be my soulmate.  I must have met them sometime today and hadn't even realized it. 

It took me a while to even get somewhere where I could see them.  I’d shown up directly behind the driver’s seat, which meant I’d have to walk to the side of it to see the driver, which was no small task.  With the floor constantly moving, it was hard to get around.  Nevermind the fact that I was now ridiculously small.  I thought about calling out to my soulmate, before realizing that distracting the driver with something as jarring as myself probably wasn’t the smartest idea.  Until the car came to a stop, I would have to make do with trying to get a good look at them from here.  Before long, the rumble of the engine finally faded out and the floor finally stopped vibrating.  Nerves knotted in my stomach as the driver opened the door to leave.  It wasn’t the best time to second-guess myself, considering I certainly did not want to be left in the car.  “Wait!  I’m still in here!” I called right before the door fell closed.  Out the window high above me, I watched them flinch from behind.  Slowly, the driver leaned into their car and peered confusedly into the backseat.

Oh no.  Oh hell no.  THEM?!  The bewildered driver, my supposed soulmate, was none other than the person I’d bumped into earlier — the one who’d been unnecessarily rude to me before I could even try to apologize.  In a split second, the passenger door was thrown open.  The woman stared me down in what was probably shock, but to four-inch-tall me, it seemed a lot more like malice.  Practically anything could be considered a threat to me at my height, but she seemed threatening even before I was small enough to be held in one hand.  “What the..?”  The moment she uttered those two words, I scrambled away from her as fast as I could, dodging beneath the seat beside me.  I lay grasping the floor with my heart pounding in my ears.  It can’t be them!  It just can’t be!  My blurry vision could faintly make out the shape of someone gigantic looming closer.

Even if I managed to hide from her, what then?  I would still be locked in with no way to escape.  So much as jumping down from the edge of the car to the ground would be enough to break my ankles.  I was torn from my horrific thoughts by the sound of a voice loud enough to have come out of a speaker.  “Hello?  Where did you go?  You.. You must be my soulmate, right?”  I could feel the slight thump of her head resting on the floor to peer under the seat.  Clearly she hadn’t gotten a good enough look at me to recognize who I was.  “Hello?”  The woman called again, and suddenly a gigantic hand slid beneath the seat only a few inches from my face.  I couldn’t help but shriek involuntarily at the sight.  Hesitantly, the massive limb retreated backwards.  “It’s- It’s ok.  You’re my soulmate.  I’m not gonna hurt you.”

She’s only being that nice because she doesn’t know who I am.  What happened to all these niceties on the street?  Taking a few deep breaths to try and steady my voice, I spoke.  “Do you swear you won’t hurt me?  No matter who I am?”  There was a long pause.  I peered out of my hiding place just enough to see her gaze wander in thought.  “Should I want to hurt you?” she asked, confused, “Who are you?”  I tried to back further up, but the end of the seat stopped me after just a few inches.  I let her question sit in silence, but answering it would definitely have been better.  Without an answer to satisfy her, a hand shot beneath the seat again, grasping around in the small space.  I shrieked as her fingertips brushed against me.  Desperately, I tried to cling to something, but soon I was dragged dizzyingly out of my terrible hiding spot.

“No!  Wait!  Please!  I-I’m sorry for bumping into you earlier!  Don’t-!”  My throat squeezed closed before I could say anything else, leaving a frightening silence in the air.  My definitely non-soulmate held me in a fist from the torso down.  I couldn’t help but imagine how many bones she could break by tightening her grip just a bit more.  Even with my eyes closed tightly, I could still feel her scrutinizing me from above.  “Wait a second…”  Without warning, her hand opened up, releasing me into her palm.  I sat up fearfully, gazing up at her with nowhere to go.  “You’re the person who bumped into me a while ago?”  “Please, I-”  “Why are you so worried?” she chuckled, “I thought you were going to be someone a lot worse.  Like my new boss.”  

Gently, I was slid off her palm and onto the seat in front of her.  She looked at me with concern while my mind drew a blank.  “Wh- But-  You were angry with me,” I protested, slowly pulling myself out of my hunched-over stance.  “And?” the gigantic woman replied, slightly amused, “I was angry with you.  For like, five minutes after I walked off.  After that, I forgot about the whole thing.”  I gawked, suddenly feeling very stupid.  All I did was bump into someone.  Why was I so upset over her reaction?  I guess now that my life might’ve depended on it, her reaction had been extremely important to me.  From the moment I recognized her, I chose to play it safe and assume the worst.

Sighing in relief, I sat back on the soccer field sized seat.  “I- I guess I got a bit carried away there.”  I chuckled nervously, glancing up at my soulmate, who watched me intently.  She shrugged after a brief moment.  “Happens to the best of us.  So, will you tell me who you are now?”  “My name’s Alexis.  Sorry for judging you so harshly.”  “That’s alright.  To be fair, I must look rather intimidating to you at that size.  My name’s Erica, by the way.”  I huffed, the tiniest bit annoyed at my much smaller vantage point.  Though she made it clear she wouldn't hurt me, Erica was still more than capable of it.  “Do you know when I get to go back with my bigger self?  I never paid much attention to this type of thing.”  Erica sat back, eyes wide.  “Oh!  I forgot you have a normal-sized version of yourself somewhere.  That means there must be a tiny version of me running around somewhere too.”  She glanced back at me, “Sorry, I don’t remember when that stuff happens.  It’s supposed to be crazy, though.  You gain all these new memories in an instant.  Like deja-vu, even though you haven’t actually seen them before.”  

I looked around the vast space of the car, “So I’m stuck like this.. indefinitely.”  “Eventually you’ll go back.”  “But what am I going to do until then?  It’s not like I can go and live like this; I wouldn’t be able to do anything!”  Erica shifted to sit on the seat beside mine, gesturing to the open car door.  “Well, I just got home.  Why don’t you spend the night?  I could help with anything you might need.”  I thought about it briefly.  If Erica really is my soulmate, then it would be senseless not to take her offer.  “I’ll come with you,” I nodded, “If I can’t trust my soulmate, who can I trust?”  Erica held out a hand for me to step onto and I took it, grateful she hadn’t grabbed me again.  She held her hand steady as she gathered her things and made her way inside.  Though I’d been horribly frightened only minutes ago, I was certain that with our misunderstanding cleared up, things would turn out just fine.

The smol version! It’s always a struggle to pick either the giant or tiny’s perspective whenever I start writing something. Both are so fun to write that I’ll sometimes go and do a bit of both. Hope you enjoyed!

[writing-nebula]

Aura: A World Unseen. Chapter 2 - Whispering Shadows

Note, this chapter is nearly twice as long as almost Everything Else I've ever written for Aura- so hopefully it's all enjoyable!! ---------- Honestly, Anti hadn’t meant to skip lunch. Really, he hadn’t! But Mark and Amy were still here, and as much as he loved hanging out with Mark, the man was just so loud, emotionally. Sometimes it was too much to handle. So when lunchtime came around, and he could feel Mark’s eagerness like the thrumming of a heartbeat, he planned to just stay put until he’d calmed down, and now, well- it was almost time for dinner. “Chase is definitely gonna be on my ass if I skip two meals,” he muttered to himself, and finally got up from his laptop, taking a moment to stretch before leaving his room to head downstairs, checking in on everyone as he did. A wave of happiness flowed up from the living room, broken up by little shards of excitement here and there- that was probably where most of them were, though he had no clue what they could be doing. And then… Daggers of irritation from the kitchen, which meant Henrik got stuck cooking again. Best avoid it if he didn’t want to get dragged in. Anti reached the bottom of the stairs, planning to peek into the living room and see what was going on- His foot missed the last step, a blaze of panic ripping through him so sharply it hurt, tearing a hole in his chest, leaving him gasping for breath, his ears ringing. What- who- I can’t- Anti wasn’t sure how long he laid there before a voice faintly registered nearby, worry swirling around him like a breeze He tensed when his shoulder was touched, but the hand was like a soothing balm, cooling over the burns from before and loosening his chest, letting him gulp in air until the dizziness- that he hadn’t even noticed a moment ago- started to fade. “That’s it, just breathe…” The hands pulled him closer, wrapping him up in a hug, and Anti buried his face in the other’s shirt, trying to hide from the lingering flames dancing at the edge of his mind. Block it out, remember what Marvin taught you- just try to block it out… Finally, when he was sure he’d be able to handle it again, Anti pulled back, relieved when there was no effort to stop him. “...Thanks, Jack.”

His creator smiled at him, his relief alone making Anti smile back. “Of course- sorry it took a while to get to you, nobody realized you were over here at first.” Honestly, he had no idea how long he’d been there, but now he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. “What happened?” he asked instead, trying to look past Jack into the living room, “I felt…” Panic wasn’t a strong enough word for it- it was a moment of raw fear. There was a ping of confusion, then understanding, and Jack murmured an apology, though Anti didn’t really hear the words of it. “That was, uh, Mark and Amy, probably. I had a dizzy spell a few minutes ago, they both freaked out when I hit the floor.” “Oh,” that would explain the suddenness of it- “but then- that means there’s someone new?” Now excited- and feeling less shaky- Anti pushed himself to his feet, smiling hopefully when the human joined him. “Who is it? A fan ego? I know there are some out there you like-” He cut himself off when he registered the confusion now drifting out from the living room, and from Jack himself. “...What is it?” “...See, we don’t know who or what appeared,” Jack told him with a frown, looking around them for a moment. “Nothing changed in the room, and if you were the one that made noise out here…” “We’ll figure it out after dinner,” Chase cut in as he left the room, catching Anti’s eye, “it’s almost ready, and some people missed lunch.” Anti smiled sheepishly, but Chase just ruffled his hair and gently pushed him towards the kitchen. “Move, kid. And you’d better talk to Hen, make sure you didn’t get hurt.” “Okay, okay-” Anti chuckled and obediently headed for the kitchen, smiling faintly at Mark and Amy when he saw them. …It felt way too strong for just two people, though…

Henrik checked him over, declared he wouldn’t die, and they all sat down for dinner shortly after. Dinner itself was as usual- with the addition of everyone trying to figure out who or what had arrived of course. Anti mostly stayed out of the conversation, because he was really hungry now that there was food, and even in a crowd confusion and curiosity were fairly easy to ignore, like waves lapping at the sand. …What wasn’t easy to ignore was the faint but swiftly-building tension in the air, the nervousness coiling around him like rope, the fear that made his hands shake, his chest tighten, made his pixels buzz with static because something’s wrong, every instinct screaming danger- “Anti!” He nearly fell out of his seat when a hand touched his arm, a glitch ripping through him as he jerked back from the touch, only to realize how lightheaded he felt- Something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong- And then all at once the feelings dropped away, just vanished from the air around him, but the lightheadedness was worse, and all he could hear were quick, sharp gasps- “Kid, it’s just me, I got you-” There were hands on his arms again, but this time he registered the familiar worry, and then he opened his eyes- when had he closed them?- he found spots dancing in his vision, and as the tightness in his chest faded he realized oh, I’m the one gasping. He drew in a deep breath, hearing static laced through it, and the instant wave of relief would’ve made him laugh, if he hadn’t been too busy reminding himself how to breathe. “ Jeeze, kid-” Chase huffed when Anti could focus on him, “You gotta stop scaring us like that, one moment you’re fine and the next thing I know you’re over here hyperventilating-” Anti smiled weakly, exceedingly aware of how quiet the room had gotten. “Sorry, I-I don’t know what happened, there was just… A lot, suddenly…” “And it’s gone now?” Jackie checked, sat on Anti’s other side. …It wasn’t, he realized. It was still there, just… Distant, dulled. Buzzing in the background like an irritating insect. It could have something to do with whatever ego appeared, so if it’s still here, that’s a good sign.   “...Mostly?” he ended up saying, giving him a little shrug, “it’s kind of… in the background now, like I’ve been able to do for most of you guys’ feelings.” “Admittedly, that doesn’t assure me much,” Marvin huffed, “this emotion power you have seems to be getting stronger- how have the wards on your room been working out? Have they been blocking anything?” Anti hummed, trying to nudge the still-worried Chase away, “Kind of? It’s weaker when I’m in there, but I still feel things sometimes- when Jack is recording I feel him a lot, especially with Mark around.” Both YouTubers looked guilty, but Anti quickly shook his head. “You guys are just doing your job, and they’re not bad feelings, I can deal with some wayward excitement once in a while no problem.” “Still, ” Marvin pulled a book out from somewhere and started to flip through it, “it’s nothing I’ve ever come across before, so even with my spellroom I’m struggling to figure it out-” “Excuse me,” Henrik waved his fork in Marvin’s direction, eyes narrowed, “No spellbooks at the table, we’ve talked about this- yes, Anti’s thing is weird and interesting, but we are still eating, and you can discuss it after dinner.” Jamie nodded along, frowning, and Anti chuckled at the flash of irritation from Marvin before returning to his own food, trying to push the faint but still present fear to the back of his mind. We’ll figure it out when we find whatever appeared, I’m sure. No need to worry them more.

After dinner, they all scoured the house, looking for signs of anything new- new objects, anything that could’ve appeared with a new person, any doors that hadn’t been there before. But they didn’t find a single thing out of the ordinary. Marvin couldn’t even sense any kind of magic that would be able to hide somebody so thoroughly. “-and even if that random surge of emotion was related, if you can’t feel it strong enough to pinpoint them, it doesn’t do us much good,” Marvin sighed when Anti brought up his theory, “for all we know, they ran out of the house when we were busy, so we’ll just have to wait and see what comes up.” Anti almost mentioned that the feelings had been fluctuating while they searched, but- they were so faint now, like Marvin said it wouldn’t do them any good. Besides, if they’re that scared, it might be best to just wait for them, wherever they’re hiding… So when they gave up on the search- despite Jackie’s protests- Anti headed right up to his room, looking forward to the respite it would hopefully give him. …Except, standing in front of his door, it was stronger. Not nearly as bad as before, and it was still strangely muted, but definitely the strongest he’d felt it since dinner. And when he entered his room, the feeling increased tenfold, which should be impossible, unless… …unless it worked both ways. Which meant he was right. There’s someone in here. Anti took a deep breath, trying to push away the fear and apprehension that kept squeezing, tightening around his chest like a vice. It’s not me, it’s not mine- it doesn’t matter how much of it there is, I can handle some fear these days, no problem at all- He took another deep breath, letting it out slowly. He shut the door behind him. “...I know you’re there,” he started quietly, not wanting to startle them, or be heard from outside, “I don’t know why you’re hiding from everyone, but I’m not going to tell them.” Anti paused, searching the room, but there was no sign of anyone, nothing out of place. The fear eased up, though, and he almost whined in relief, feeling his shoulders slump. “I won’t tell them you’re here, but you can’t just hide in my room forever, okay?” he continued, talking a few more steps into the room and slowly turning around, hoping to see something.“Not without calming down, at least. I can… Feel you, and it’s a lot more than I usually deal with.” He waited again for a response, but when there was nothing he just sighed and headed for his little desk, opening his laptop back up in hopes of distracting himself. When he pulled up YouTube, he felt the fear in the air receding further- to be replaced by a faint spark of curiosity. …Okay, I can work with that. “What do you wanna watch?” he asked aloud, not really expecting an answer but figuring they’d make their opinion known somehow. “Minecraft, indie, FPS? Horror maybe?” …Nothing, though the curiosity was still glimmering- how could one person feel so much- He started to say something else, ask another question, but it stuck in his throat as he abruptly became aware of a presence behind him, leaning over his shoulder like it was trying to see the screen. Oh fuck what the fuck- Anti searched the reflection on his screen a bit frantically, but saw nothing behind him, he just… Knew. Okay, fine, if you wanna be creepy to the guy trying to help, then I just won’t talk to you. Petty? Absolutely, but he figured he had a right to be petty if he was going to deal with an invisible person in his room. So he just put on Jack’s Detroit: Become Human playlist, and tried to relax. …I just wish I had any clue on who it was…

—

Admittedly, trying to sleep in a room with an unknown, invisible person whose emotions were weirdly strong was easier said than done, and Anti was pretty sure he looked like shit when he went downstairs for breakfast, but thankfully everyone seemed to take the excuse that he just hadn’t slept well and didn’t pry any further. He said he wouldn’t tell anyone, and he meant it- at least until he figured out who it was. So he kept his mouth shut and went about his day. Joining the others when they searched for the new person again, spending some time helping Marvin in his spellroom, playing with his cat, getting into a very intense game of Uno with Jackie, Chase, and Jameson-

(Jameson had won, but Anti was too thrilled that he was comfortable enough to be competitive with him to be salty about it) He had plenty of things to keep him busy, and more than enough reasons to stay away from his room, so as the day went on he mostly forgot about his invisible roommate. No emotions struck him as foreign, nothing new or different made itself known around the house- it was like they didn’t exist at all. …Until Anti went back to his room for the night, and the moment the door was shut, it all came rushing back- almost literally, curiosity and confusion surrounding him, pushing at him like a mild tornado. Anti almost ran right back out the door. But he took a deep breath, tried to focus on the static crackling up and down his arms for a moment, and stepped further in, trying to let the torrent wash around him instead of against him. He didn’t try to speak until he was sitting at his desk, and by then the waves had calmed somewhat, though he still felt the presence somewhere nearby. Waiting. Anti let his breath out in a sigh, then turned a hesitant smile to the room as a whole. “Thank you for calming down, um… How was your day?” …No audible answer, but maybe… Anti closed his eyes, letting his static fade out so he could try and seek out the emotions instead of ignore them. The curiosity was still there, prodding at him like an impatient kid- but now it was joined by a prickle of nerves, like all the hair on his arms standing up at once. The air also felt strangely heavy, thick with something he didn’t quite recognize… “You’re… wondering what I did today?” he guessed, opening his eyes again, “and nervous that someone will find you here?” The briefest flash of pride was confirmation enough, but Anti couldn’t help but frown. “Mine was fine, I guess, but I asked how your day was, not…” The heavy feeling returned, and for a split second the room seemed to go grayscale, every color sucked away at once. He blinked once, drawing in another breath, and it returned to normal. “...You were bored,” he realized, and the moment he said it it made sense- of course they’d be bored, he was cooped up in a room alone all day. Another spark of pride- whether they were aiming it at him or just proud of themselves, who knew- and Anti nodded, turning to open his laptop. “Well, I usually stay up watching YouTube for a while longer, so you can watch with me. Just- give me some interest if you see something you like, okay?” He paused for a moment, but no emotions stuck out at him- just the same feeling of something over his shoulder returning. So he just started scrolling through videos, hoping he’d actually get an answer this time. (he didn’t, but they didn’t have any protest for RE7, so he counted that as a win)

—--

Anti slept much better that night- honestly, a lot better than he usually did- but he couldn’t say exactly why. There’d been… Some sort of buzzing in his room all night, similar to his static but somehow more, and that was the last thing he remembered hearing before he drifted off. Maybe it has something to do with them…? He wondered when he went down to breakfast, distractedly greeting the other egos as he helped himself to some coffee. If they're helping me, maybe that means they're getting less freaked out? Maybe they'll talk to me soon? Worry suddenly curled around him, so thick he could almost taste it, and Anti pulled himself out of his thoughts to frown at Chase, coming up next to him. "You really need to relax, your emotions are doing that weird cloud thing." The other ego didn't bother to make excuses, just making a face at him. "Yeah, yeah, I know- I just… this whole situation about the new ego is rubbing me the wrong way, is all." He sighed, grabbing a mug for himself. "None of us remembered much when we appeared, barely knew our own names- so why would whoever it was hide from us? You said you felt emotions, so it's clearly a person, and last night Marvin said he felt magic from someone other than him, but couldn't track it. That's probably why we never saw the guy, but… I dunno." Anti hummed along, wanting to offer him something, but he didn't know enough to be sure of anything. "You could do a little more research into fan egos, see if any of them have any particular powers?" He suggested, leaning against the counter to put a little distance between them- it was always harder to filter things out in the morning, and Chase was particularly open today. "I mean, clearly we aren't dealing with Robbie the zombie," he continued with a chuckle, "but there was that guy from Glitch in the System- Mack, I think? Maybe see if fans have expanded on him, they're good at that." Chase didn't respond right away, staring at the coffee machine as he drank what must've been half the mug, but when he went to refill it Anti felt the worry recede a bit, no longer filling the room, and he relaxed as Chase nodded. "...Yeah, that's an idea," Chase finally muttered, "and honestly, maybe there's been a new one lately- we assumed he had to be giving the thought attention now, but that might not be it…" He clapped a hand on Anti's shoulder, a tired smile on his face, and murmured a "thanks, kid," before walking away. Anti took a moment to feel proud of himself before going to make some toast, wanting something he could take up to his room. I guess I could ask them about that too- even if they don't know much, they should at least recognize their own name, right?

Maybe they did, maybe they didn't, but they certainly didn't recognize any of the names Anti had tried. Robbie was out, not that he'd expected it to work anyway, zombies weren't known for their ability to turn invisible. Mack drew a blank too, which he'd been a bit more hopeful for, but Bing got a little spark of interest for them- though, admittedly, that could just mean they preferred the search engine, and Anti didn't judge people's browser choices. …Not out loud, anyway. So he'd given up on that for the moment, instead trying to sit down and finish up a project he'd been too distracted to do the past couple days. He'd managed to pick up some work doing freelance coding- nothing huge, but it was something to do, and it felt nice to buy his own games, and pay Jack back just a little for all the kindness he'd shown him. So he got that finished, sent it off to the client, and browsed through YouTube a bit, idly noting that the Presence was behind him again. If you're that bored, then just tell me what you want to see! He huffed to himself, resting his chin on his hand. A notification popped up, and a glance at it revealed that Jack had started streaming, with 'special guest' Markiplier. That had him grimacing, wondering how Mark had gotten in without him noticing- he'd feel him soon, that was for sure, especially if he and Jack started to play something.  With that in mind, he went to find something to distract him from the bursts of emotion that would drift past the wards, something stupidly amusing that he could zone out with. They probably wouldn't be streaming for too long, anyway.

—

They'd been streaming for four hours, and at this point Anti could hear them yelling at each other- playfully, of course, but still frankly impressive considering the soundproofing in the recording room. "Should see if Marvin can magically soundproof it," he chuckled to himself, scrolling mindlessly through his Steam library. The emotions hadn't actually been too bad, mostly just excitement and joy blazing through the house like a flame, occasional frustration wafting off like smoke, so it wasn't too hard to force it to the background. That being said, he wasn't sure just how much was being blocked by Marvin's wards, so he wasn't eager to leave the room until he had to, just in case. He'd just settled in playing some Viscera Cleanup Detail when the Presence appeared again, startling him so bad he nearly jolted right out of his chair. "Fuck, don't do that-" he snapped, shooting a quick glare over his shoulder even though he knew there was nobody visible. "Give me a little warning, that's not exactly the most comfortable feeling!" No response, of course, but he did feel a little prickle of remorse, so he let it go and turned back to his game with a huff, planning on ignoring them as was starting to become usual.  But then he felt a chill, a shiver of magic up his spine, the buzz from last night echoing in his ears- And Anti found himself holding his breath as the semi-annoying phantom sensation became the very very real feeling of somebody actively leaning over him . it's a hell of a time to stop being shy why the fuck-

"...What are you doing now?"

Anti's racing thoughts screeched to a halt, and he exhaled sharply, turning his gaze down to the desk. He felt frozen, fixed in place, and it wasn't because the guy finally spoke- the question startled him, sure, but it was reasonable enough, he probably couldn't see the screen very well. No, the problem wasn't the question- it was the voice . Calm, but deep enough for a faint rumble in his chest. Smooth, but not soothing- more cold .  The faintest of echoes ringing in his ears, two voices just below the first- similar , but different. ...I know that voice. It was something he had no doubt in, a fact as irrefutable as his own name. Something he couldn't deny if he tried. I know that voice, I- I know who that is-   But that doesn't make any sense , why would he- why would Jack's power summon- Anti drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, suddenly hyper aware of the confusion still lingering around the room- confusion that had been there from the very start, and barely faded since then.  …I know who he is, but… he doesn't, does he? "I'm playing a game," he replied carefully, worried that he'd vanish again the moment he did. But the figure stayed where he was, even making a soft noise of acknowledgement. Anti took another deep breath before he looked back up at the laptop. There, reflected in the screen, he saw a silhouette. Broad-shouldered, a little taller than him, wearing something all white- a suit, if he remembered correctly.  The buzzing crackled around him, and he saw wisps of red and blue and gray in the corners of his vision.  It's really him . He almost laughed at the confirmation, because this was absurd, this was absolutely nowhere on the list of things they were prepared for- because why the hell would they? He wet his lips. Tried to find the perfect words, and failed because he never once thought he'd need them. …I guess I'm winging it, then. Because there's no way in hell I'm just letting this go now. "It's uh… nice to meet you properly, Dark," he murmured, smiling at the reflection, and the figure behind him startled back, the buzzing getting louder and the faint haze of anxiety thickening- "Yeah, I'll bet you're confused as hell," Anti hummed, "but I can answer any questions you have- because I know who you are, Dark. Whatever you're confused about, I can explain to you." He paused, waiting to see if Dark would disappear again, honestly expecting him to- but after a moment, the buzzing quieted down once again, and he took that as a sign to turn around, finally looking at him properly. Back straight, arms folded behind his back, white suit pristine, not a smudge or wrinkle in sight. His aura swirled around him, and the room around him was gray, as was he- the only color visible other than the shards of blue and red was the dark crimson of his eyes, staring at Anti like he could see right through him. Anti just smiled in return, watched Dark seemingly falter at how genuine he was. "My name's Antisepticeye," he introduced himself, and chuckled when recognition flashed clearly across his face. "Yeah, we know each other- well, sorta, it's a long story."  Darkiplier certainly wasn't anything they expected, but… He turned out okay, didn't he? Why couldn't this work out for them too? I'll make sure it works. And I'll make sure he doesn't suffer the same way I did. ------ Previous - Next

[cutekittenlady]

Tumblr Plays Pokemon White 2 - Part 10

Been running around Castelia Sewers and realized I'd never been in HERE before. Huh, maybe I should give it a shot.

Ohhh a cave. And as we all know where there are caves there are....

Well, yes, pokemon, but I was gonna say treasure. Sweet Rich Treasure. Of money. For me to find.

Or strange middle aged men.... that too.

After beating up the two middle aged man and one strange lady I caught a woobat and roggenrola for the dex before leaving to heal up my pokemon and get more supplies. Turns out Polux has the Run Away ability which makes getting away from unwanted wild pokemon battles way easier.

While putting Roggenrola in the box I saw it was holding an item; an everstone. I decide to pocket the thing just in case I might need it later.

((I buy some super repels to use in the Relic Passage. Drilbur won the encounter vote for this area, but they only appear in dust clouds and if I encounter a pokemon before reaching the dust cloud I lose the encounter. So I plan to use the repels to try to better my chances. Plus dust clouds can sometimes just have items like shards.))

Ohhh a Drilbur! These guys are pretty tough!

I start off with Polux and have him use a sand attack to lower drilburs accuracy. Aries thunderwave wont work this time to incapacitate the opponent since I'm pretty sure Drilbur must be a rock or ground type or something. I use sand attack several more times just to be sure and then ahve him use bite however Drilbur still manages to dodge and still manages to hitwith a mudslap lowering Polux's accuracy.

I send in Bentley in the hopes of landing a leech seed. WIth that I should be able to chip away at Drilburs health to make them easier to catch. Once Leech seed lands I send Polux back in and have him use quick attack. This gets Drilbur in the yellow and another leech seed gets their health even lower. I decide to try and use a heal ball this tiem around so that I can add Drilbur to the team right away. I only have one heal ball though, so its a risk.

I throw the ball but drilbur manages to get free. So much for that idea. Another leech seed gets drilbur in the red. I really want to catch this pokemon so I throw a great ball. Its the highest grade pokeball I've got and in the red like this its my only chance to catch Drilbur.

But Drilbur breaks out AGAIN! Leech Seed lowers its health a bit more. Now its only a sliver! One more leech seed is bound to take Drilbur out. This next great ball HAS to catch or else we lose the encounter!

I ready the ball.

I throw.

It shakes. Once. Twice. Thrice.

CAUGHT!

Phew this one was quite a struggle.

I opt to name her Dusty after the cloud of dirt we found her in.

NOw though I have to check her nature! After such a long hung and a difficult catch I REALLY hope shes compatible with the rest of the team!

Here we go, check the gangs natures...

Now checking Dusty's...

Serious! Looks like Dusty's here to stay!

I take a moment to check her moves and ability. She has Sand Rush which means she'll move even father in a sand storm! Something that is bound to come in handy in future. She also knows Rapid Spin, Mud-Slap, Fury Swipes, and Metal Claw which gives us some decent type coverage.

Welcome to the team Dusty!

Before leaving the relic passage I catch a Timburr and Onix for the Professors dex as well as a grimer out in the sewer. Checking the dex I can see that those are all the pokemon available in this area at the moment, so with a sigh of relief I had back to the pokemon center for a MUCH needed shower.

----

Alright after that shower I think its finally time to move on!

TO ROUTE 4

Oh god its the weirdo sewer guy. Aaaaa he's standing he front of the only road out of Castelia. Well the only road I walk on anyway. (Perfect urban planning my ass)

Maybe I can just slip past him? I mean he only saw me once, surely he won't be able to recognize me after only seeing me once in a dark dank sewer right?

SONNNOVA- Look buddy I don't have any loose change. I have some... water bottles? You want water bottles? You can't have the lemonade though. Thats mine.

... Pokemon being a euphemism for...?

Whoa whoa! I didn't say anything about cooperating!

Does it? I literally just caught it.

Hey, it's more than YOU have chump!

(Why am i getting so defensive with a weirdo sewer guy?)

.... That has GOT to be your real name because I can't imagine anyone picking it as a pseudonym. Also putting on a lab coat doesnt make you a scientist.

And this guy just goes off talking about how the "theme" of his research is 'bringing out the power of pokemon'. I don't really know what hes talking about because I tune him out. I really really just want to get past this guy.

So I hum and nod along and next thing I know I've agreed the battle the guy! He says he'll be waiting for me on Route 4.

CREEPY

I need to stiff one to settle my nerves.

I down the lemonade, get a couple of water bottles for the desert and then nerve myself up.

When I woke up today to beat up an artist and explore a sewer, I didn't think I was going to have to deal with someone wearing a weird hair piece cosplaying a scientist and living in a sewer but here I am.

[thegreatobsesso]

sleep, scatter, urge, paint, & involve

sleep

Callie POV

Peter shrugged off his sweater jacket thing and held it behind her, leading her hands toward the holes. Then she let him put one of her freshly-sweatered arms around his waist to steady herself as they stumbled back to her room.

“I have a secret,” she sang as he helped her get her key in the magic-hole. “And I’m not gonna tell you what it is, no - matter - what.”

She pinched her fingers and pulled them across her lips, like a zipper.

“That’s fine,” he said, smiling at her as the wards pulled back. Why was he smiling at her? She was a hot mess, all smudged make-up and unsteady feet. “Tomorrow you can tell me all about the secrets you’re not gonna tell me.”

He came in just far enough to supervise her descent into bed, and she fell asleep without taking off her shoes.

scatter

Callie POV

Peter had mastered this, the mounting pressure screaming inside her. He was strong.

She was nothing but a loaded gun in a shaking hand.

She let it go.

For a single, glorious second, she became magic and she was sure it killed her. She was the white-hot center of a nuclear blast that flattened the foliage in every direction. Birds screamed and scattered.

She was alive. Still in pain. Slumped over in the ruined grass, staring at her cold hands, still crackling.

If dad was right, then she’d surely go to hell, but it would also mean Peter was already in heaven.

urge

Callie POV

This, the small room at the end of an undecorated hall, must be the spare room Riley told her she’d be using. It was an afterthought of a space, containing only what was needed for someone to sleep there and be reasonably comfortable - a small bed with a khaki-colored comforter, a night stand, and a dresser Callie knew was empty without checking.

The whole place had the look of a model home, inoffensive to all and interesting to absolutely no one, so long as you stayed out of the basement.

She resisted the urge to pull up the carpet and check for trap doors. It was hard to believe they were going to break the preconceived notions of magic and science here, in some partially assembled page of a Pottery Barn catalog.

paint

Riley POV

When the glass above their heads shatters, Riley is one with every shard. She catches them before they hit the ground, the dewey night air rushing into the room while the hooded Swordsmen shield their heads. She wastes no time demonstrating her control, spinning the broken glass into an impressive whirlwind, finally settling it into the same shape she sees pinned onto their robes.

It almost makes her nauseous, the massive sword hovering underneath the vaulted remnants of a ceiling - it’s predictable, melodramatic, and worthy of Callie Ray.

It pays off. Their awed stares, the way she hears his name scattered across their whispers, confirm she’s done her job well. Her hands sting as she flexes them, holding her sculpture in place; she’s moving like she’s finger painting and every flutter is agony. Beneath the magic, she’s irritating her burns. She keeps her expression even.

Adrian’s hands come down on her shoulders, steady, proud.

“The heir of Nauxial,” he says, his voice cutting through the electrified din.

involve

Simon POV

“The obelisk,” Wayland managed, reading between the lines. “We need to destroy it.”

And he understood - the obelisk had their scent now and Adrian could use it to send his power out across miles.

But what could they do? He’d like nothing more than to destroy the godforsaken thing but they didn’t have the strength. Callie was straining, her arms trembling as she held the plant’s arms around too many assailants to count and Fallowhyde wouldn’t be down for long. Every one of their guards was trained to resist his control and he was most certainly not trained to break through when someone was trying to fight him off. Wayland had overextended, Janan was injured, and Lucinda was in such a shaken state he knew she wouldn’t get involved in the fray if her own life depended on it.

“We need to run,” he breathed, pulling himself up and reaching out to Janan. “Now.”

I have been consumed by work stress lately, but today is Saturday and I feel like myself again. Doing this was really fun. :)

Tagging @fearofahumanplanet, @winterandwords, @avrablake, @chauceryfairytales, and @jamieanovels with the new words sing, home, name, wild and blink 🥰

[leora-rambles]

The Road I Have Traveled On: Pigtailed Bastard (La Squadra/Reader [Multiple Chapters])

so basically. 

Previous chapter!

You barely miss an array of glass shards in your path.

“Luce? Luce!” Worry claws at your throat and lungs, adrenaline high as you crawl towards your brother.

You two hadn’t made it far from the mob chasing after you. In just a few minutes, they would surely catch up and capture you both.

“They’re gonna catch us if you keep this up! Come on!”

You cry, shaking his stiff shoulders. You don’t know if the wetness running down your cheeks are tears or sweat.

Luce doesn’t budge, even when you let out a frustrated sob and your back complains as you pull him further into the alleyway.

“Why do you always do this?! You always have to make things hell for me!” You can't help the bitter words from spilling out your mouth.

You frantically brush hair away from his eyes, wiping the sweat on his forehead. “Get up! We need to…!”

A crimson streak follows your fingertips.

You freeze.

With blurry eyes, you inspect your shaking hands, noticing just how much more of that crimson colour there was.

The red that had soaked through your brother's coat bleeds into your own clothes and skin.

“Luce?”

You hear your heart thump once. Then twice. Then a third time. And then it was the thundering footsteps of the men catching up to you both.

“I found them!”

You don’t resist when they grab your arms and pull you away. You don’t thrash. You don’t scream.

You just watch.

He’d save you now, wouldn’t he? He had spent the last bit of his life doing so. Actually, now that you think about it, you’ve lived most of your life cowering in fear behind your brother.

Surely right now, he’d save you. Like the million times he did before.

He doesn’t budge.

It wasn’t the lack of breathing that settled it for you. It wasn’t the way his limbs remained limp on the concrete. It was the way his eyes glazed over. How as they stared up, they did so emptily and towards the sky.

You don’t know why it took you so long to process the  gunshot that caused you two to falter. He was running with you just a few minutes ago, but now he’s dead on the concrete.

“They’re not fighting back.”

“Good shot, we hit the brother.”

What did you two do to deserve this? You lived your life trying to be the best you can be. You were a good person. You never hurt anyone, you haven't even committed any crimes- so why were you being punished this way? Why were they doing this?

“What do we do with him?“

“Leave him. if the police don’t get to him first, the rats will.”

As if you were staring into a mirror, your eyes reflect that very same hollowness. With deep regret, you wish that it was you who had taken the bullet instead.

—

“What?”

“Yep, that’s what happened. He hates you a lot.”

“Just for a little toilet joke? His panties are still in a knot over that?”

“I guess so.”

Illuso scoffs, blowing away a stray piece of hair falling into his eyes, relaxing deeper into the plush sofa. Melone subconsciously fixes his posture.

You had become a hot topic ever since you left the base on a hit with Prosciutto. Melone mainly brought you up because, well, he found you fascinating, and (like a crazed fanboy) wanted to babble on about you.

He was midway his seventh retelling of your assassination with him, recounting every little delicate detail of your conversation with the victim when a distinct phrase caused Illuso's ears to perk up. Unfortunately, Melone's babbling included the part where you called a certain someone a certain thing.

“I mean,” Melone starts, laying his ankle on his knee as he speaks, “His stand only works if you invoke intense emotion in someone, so him using you was the best way to get the target to succumb.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s true, but Leche has a gun does he not?“ Illuso scowls. “Would you not shit yourself if you had a gun pointed at your face?”

The petty man disliked pettiness against himself. When he heard Melones retelling of events (nickname of him highlighted), he was furious. How dare you think you can insult him in front of a target and not repent? You think you can call him a Pigtailed bastard with no consequences ?

Melone shrugs. “They probably feel the same way about Formaggio— haven’t said anything about him yet, though.”

“Oh, so if I do something, they get all pissy, but if it’s Formaggio, they’re completely fine? That seriously annoys me.”

‘What a pain in the ass,’  Illuso thinks. ‘ If he’s that appalled over a little joke, then this job isn’t for him.’

“I hate sensitive people like that,” Illuso spits.

He thinks of a way to ruin your week. What would a secretive, aloof, and easily offended man-baby be pissed off at?

Illuso seriously racks his brain— much more than he did on some of the hits he’d been assigned to. His shoes tap on the floor as he plays with a lock of his hair.

When the idea flickers in his head like a light bulb, he kicks himself for not thinking about it earlier. Illuso has to fight back the shit-eating grin crawling onto his face. He knows exactly what a secretive, aloof, and easily offended man-baby would get pissed off at.

“Hey, you know Leche has a twin, right?”

Illuso recalls the spot where you hid away all your passports, documents, and most exciting, birth certificates. ‘So typical,’ he nearly snickered out loud as he tucked the paper beneath your mattress. ‘You truly are a rookie.’

“Twin?” Melone’s ears seemingly perk up.

“Yup, and seems like they got the better half, they're actually pretty cute.”

Illuso knows of the others’ nature. He knows that even the tiniest seed of interest would soon grow into a giant oak, a curiosity he knows Melone can’t control.

“… Tell me more.”

And he does. He talks about how in comparison to you, your sibling shone like the sun. Where you were shabby and awkward, they were graceful with every move.

The longer he spoke, the more intrigued the other became. They almost didn’t notice Risotto at the door.

“Illuso, Melone.” His deep voice instantly catches their attention. “Prosciutto’s been shot.”

The two on the couch instantly sit up. To any of the men in the assassination squad, a sentence with Prosciutto’s name and any form of injury to it was simply a fairytale.

The last Melone heard of Prosciutto being hurt on a job was 5 years ago. Illuso had never heard of such a thing, and therefore didn’t think it was possible.

“Leche betrayed us.” Illuso says, more of a statement than a question. He feels blood rushing up to his chest in anger. No wonder he didn’t like you. Come to think of it, he always had a gut feeling about you—

“No. He’s the one that called.” Risotto’s out the door, leaving Illuso confused, and admittedly a bit crestfallen.

The brunette looks back at Melone, who seems just as bewildered.

“Is Prosciutto still conscious?” Risotto finally speaks after a period of silence at the other end of the line.

“Yes, but uh— he’s a bit delirious right now. I’m afraid if my Stand intervenes anymore, he’ll bleed out and I won’t know." You hope he can't tell from your tone that you're about to vomit right now from the sheer amount of anxiety you're facing, or that you're bluffing well enough to pass it off.

“The targets, what happened to them?”

“I took them down. They’re a few metres away from us in the alleyway.”

“Give the phone to Prosciutto,” the man orders.

Your hands shake as you do so, brain wracking up all the ways that Prosciutto could seriously throw you under the train right now. You hope he's in a kind mood, despite the bullet in his side.

There’s a deep heavy breathing on the other line, a small indication to Risotto of who was on the phone.

“Prosciutto,” Risotto’s voice lowered, if that was even possible, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing fine. This is nothing." From the way he struggled to keep his eyes open, it was something.

“How did you even—“ Risotto shuts his mouth before finishing, trying to think of why one of his best men would get injured on such a considerably easy hit.

“Is your new revolver giving you any trouble?”

“I don’t—“ Prosciutto’s mouth opens before he can truly think of an answer. Then he pauses. Though he’s not in the right state of mind, he still manages to understand the question.

You don’t seem interested in the conversation, keeping your sights on the side of his stomach where the bullet hit.

He looks to his right, where the targets lay dead. “I don't think it is. It worked well. It didn’t fail on me.”

Risotto lets out a sigh, relieving his chest of the black hole about to form from how long he’d been holding his breath.

“Alright. We’re on the way.”

You tilt your head once you hear the click from his phone, “… that’s a pistol.”

Prosciutto ignores you, still silently suffering from the injury. You shrug your shoulders, continuing your handiwork on his wound.

“… if you don’t know the names of your guns, you don’t have to be embarrassed by it. I’m willing to teach you—“ “I can take care of my own injuries.” He interjects coldly, though fatigue still sticks to his voice

“You also don’t have to be embarrassed of others helping you,” you sigh, making a point by tying the bandage around his waist a little tighter than you probably should’ve, “ Especially when they’re your comrades .”

Prosciutto clicks his tongue, snatching the roll away from you. “Your bandages are sloppy,” he complains, fixing his own injury up himself.

Truth be told, he just didn’t like the way you were inspecting his wound with such tenacity. How your fingers treated him as if he was made of glass.

No matter how much he tried to scrub the scene away from his head, he couldn’t forget the way you looked at him when the gunshot sounded. How fear filled your eyes.

Everyone reacts that way to a gunshot, yes, but the way your lips quivered and eyes widened made an impact on him.

Were you that afraid of him being hurt? He figured you would’ve looked happy, considering that all he’s given you during the past few days was hell.

Why weren’t you laughing in his face? Why did you fix him up with such careful hands? He tightens his lips as he tries to come up with a way to somehow make it up to you.

‘ Thank you’ simply wasn’t in his vocabulary when it comes to newbies.

He looks at your bloodied state, your knees dusted from their place scratching against the ground and your eyes sunken. You’re still standing despite getting your ass fairly beat by the opponents.

Minutes pass, and you can tell there’s something hanging in the air that is longing to be said.

“You didn't disappoint me.” He finally grunts, noting how your eyes seemed to light up at his sudden confession.

He bites the inside of his cheek when you smile to yourself.

“I’m glad,” you dust off your suit-jacket, clasping your hands together afterwards.

“And uh,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shifting on the balls of your feet, “Thank you for not passing out on me. I don’t think I could’ve handled that well.”

He scoffs at the gratitude, “I can’t just give up in the middle of a hit.”

Prosciutto says that, and yet his eyes seemed to brighten. You don’t bring it up, knowing he’d deny the claim until hell freezes over. “I guess so."

“Leche, Prosciutto.”

Your heads perk up at the voice. Risotto alerts the two of you, his silhouette brooding from the remaining sunlight behind him. Melone and (your favourite) Illuso follow him, like ducklings to their mother.

“Illuso, help Leche carry Prosciutto to the car.”

“Tch, wouldn’t it be better if Melone were the one to do this? It would help him gain some muscle…”

“Don’t make it seem like I’m not doing any work. I have to inform the client that the targets are done with— also that we need cleanup.”

Illuso rolls his eyes, clearly holding back a complaint as he stands beside the slightly-delirious Prosciutto.

“Good on you for not letting him die out here.” You let one side of your mouth perk up at his words as you hold Prosciutto’s arm around your neck. Illuso mirrors your actions.

“Seeing how much of a pussy you are, it was surprising when I heard you didn’t abandon him,” Illuso adds before lifting his side of the blond.

Your smile drops.

He really can’t compliment others without having to ruin it huh?

You let it go for now. Half because you don’t feel like arguing, and half because you have an idea on why your teammates' performance was… less than stellar today.

“I’m not going to sit here and watch you nap as if I’m your grandmother! You’re on a hit, act like it!” You remember him whipping your head with a rolled up newspaper.

You groaned, glaring at the blonde. “Is it my fault that Risotto sets these schedules up badly? He expects me at 6 am, and yet he—“ you felt a hand grip your mouth closed. Prosciutto was glaring daggers into you.

“Quit your ungrateful bitching. You’re lucky he let you in the team despite your stupidity and incompetence.”

You sensed murderous intent in the air. You knew if you tested him even the slightest bit more, he’d actually kill you. If he really wanted to, he could have ended you right then and there.

He let go of your jaw, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. In a panic, Your Stand secreted a chemical to calm Prosciutto down without him noticing.

Throughout the whole day, he’d complain of headaches and bouts of sudden dizziness. You cringe, realizing how it only began once you asked When She Cries to save your ass from his lectures (and possibly the pistol you knew he kept hidden away in his pocket.

Had he been untouched by your stand, you’re sure he would have been able to dodge the bullet.

“… It was the bare minimum to treat him. It’s what a good partner does,” you smile as you reply, eyeing the way Risotto nods his head in approval.

They don’t need to know about your Stand’s interference. Not now. Not ever.