#oc: cesare

[vmygdvlv]

Stray Kids AU (italian boy version) ;

Seo Changbin as Cesare Amato

Cesare grew up in Quartieri Spagnoli, a neighborhood in Naples where life moved to the beat of its own pulse, and where shadows were cast longer than they should have been by the faded streetlights. It was a place of contrasts: a narrow labyrinth of alleyways where scooters zipped through like bullets and voices echoed off crumbling walls. It was a place filled with energy, but also tension, where the lines between right and wrong, legal and illegal, were often blurred, and where the stakes of everyday life sometimes felt impossibly high. From an early age, Cesare had a keen awareness of his surroundings. He knew that the neighborhood he called home had a reputation, and not always for the best reasons.

He saw how easy it was for people to slip into the wrong crowd, to be pulled by forces they couldn’t control. Some of the kids he grew up with began to disappear, swallowed up by the darker undercurrents of the city — drugs, theft, and gang affiliations. He watched as a few of his childhood friends took paths that led them further and further from the light, seduced by the allure of quick money, status, or simply an escape from the constraints of their lives.

Yet amid this, Cesare found an anchor: his best friend, Federico. Federico, another boy from the Quartieri Spagnoli, with a laugh that could light up even the darkest alleyway, was a constant in Cesare’s life. The two had known each other since they could walk, their families connected by the shared experience of raising children in a neighborhood where innocence often felt like a fragile thing. Federico was different, in his own way — a dreamer, with a love for fashion that seemed out of place among the grit and grime of the Quartieri, but which he carried with unshakable confidence.

Federico’s warmth, his unrelenting optimism, and his bright curiosity for the world beyond their immediate surroundings created a unique bond between the two boys. While Federico was lighter, his head filled with visions of colors and fabrics, Cesare was grounded, rooted in the physicality of his body and the immediacy of his experiences. Federico’s dream of becoming a fashion designer seemed improbable to many, but not to Cesare, who saw the determination in his friend’s eyes.

They were inseparable, each providing balance to the other — Federico with his creative spirit, Cesare with his unyielding focus. Both boys were determined to rise above their circumstances, but in different ways.

His mother, Antonia, was a teacher, a woman of formidable will who fought hard to keep her children on the right side of the line. His father, Giuseppe, worked at the port, often coming home late with stories that revealed a city behind the city — a Naples that wasn’t found in guidebooks or tourist brochures. Both parents were determined to give their children something better, something more stable than what lay just outside their front door.

But Cesare was not immune to the realities of his environment. He saw how some of the boys on his street would get caught up in small-time hustles or run errands for men with hard faces and watchful eyes. He felt the pressure — that slow, creeping pull to prove himself, to be tough, to survive. Yet there was something inside him that resisted, a voice that whispered he was meant for something different.

For Cesare, this resistance was an act of defiance. He threw himself into activities that felt like they had purpose, direction, and focus. Where some sought strength through intimidation or power over others, Cesare sought it in a different way — through his own body, his own discipline. He discovered early on that he had a talent for athletics, a natural aptitude for physical strength and agility.

He found solace in weightlifting and boxing, sports that demanded not just physical prowess but mental endurance. The small, gritty gym near his home became a second refuge, a place where he could channel his energy, his anger, and his frustration. He pushed himself hard, often beyond the limits of what his body seemed capable of, driven by the need to prove something — to himself more than anyone else. Each session was a battle, not against others, but against his own doubts and fears.

Boxing taught Cesare focus, control, and the value of restraint. It sharpened his instincts, and in the rhythm of footwork and the snap of a punch, he found a kind of peace. In the mirror of the gym, he didn’t just see a boy from a tough neighborhood; he saw a fighter, someone who could carve his own path through sheer willpower and grit. He admired the precision, the strategy, the way a match could turn in an instant from brute force to calculated elegance.

But it wasn’t just the gym where Cesare found his passions. Music became a significant part of his life — not just as a listener, but as a creator. The beats of hip-hop and rap, with their stories of struggle, ambition, and survival, spoke to him in a way that felt real and immediate. He began to write his own lyrics, finding a voice for the thoughts he couldn’t express otherwise — the frustration with his surroundings, the desire for something more, the constant pull between staying loyal to his roots and breaking free of them.

In those lyrics, he found the same catharsis he found in the gym. The words came in torrents, pouring out of him late at night when the city was quieter, his headphones plugged in as he scribbled furiously in a notebook. He started recording rough tracks with friends, experimenting with beats and rhythms, his deep voice finding a natural cadence that was both aggressive and introspective.

Music gave him an outlet to speak to his experiences, his environment, and his ambitions. He loved how a song could change moods, how it could transform a room, or a person’s mindset. It was a way to reach people, to make them feel what he felt — the heat of the Naples sun, the weight of expectations, the hunger for something better.

Yet even as he immersed himself in these pursuits, Cesare remained aware of the dangers around him. He saw the traps that others fell into — the allure of quick money, the false security of joining a group or a gang for protection, the seemingly easy path that always, inevitably, led somewhere dark. He was determined not to go down that road. But that determination often left him at odds with himself, wrestling with feelings of isolation, of not fitting in entirely with his peers.

He disliked the narrowness of certain expectations — that just because he came from where he did, he should act a certain way, dress a certain way, think a certain way. He grew frustrated with stereotypes, with the way others seemed to define him before they even knew him. He hated small talk, superficial conversations that lacked depth or sincerity, and he had little patience for people who couldn’t keep up with his energy.

As he grew older, Cesare’s interests began to evolve. While he still loved the raw physicality of boxing and the creative freedom of music, he became fascinated by the idea of business — the strategy, the decision-making, the art of negotiation. It was another form of battle, another arena where he could test himself, where he could see the results of his efforts play out in real time. He began to think about how he could combine his passions, how he could build something of his own, something that reflected both where he came from and where he wanted to go.

At 18, Cesare decided to study business administration so him and Federico decided both moved to Milan for university, it was like the pieces of their puzzle falling into place. The decision wasn’t easy; he was leaving behind everything he knew, stepping into a world that was colder, more calculated, more distant. Milan was nothing like Naples. Cesare, with his more reserved and pragmatic nature, found himself frustrated at times by the polished surfaces and hidden layers of Milanese society. He missed the raw honesty of Naples, the directness with which people spoke to each other, the sense that you always knew where you stood. But he was determined to seize them.

Still, their friendship remained a constant. They rented a small apartment together, where Federico’s sketches and fabric samples began to clutter every available surface, while Cesare’s weights and boxing gear took up whatever space was left. They often stayed up late, talking about their dreams and fears, navigating their new world together, each offering the other a sense of home in a city that often felt foreign.

He threw himself into his studies with the same intensity he had always brought to everything else in his life. But he didn’t abandon his other interests. He still spent hours at the gym, maintaining his fitness routine with a near-religious fervor. He continued to write and produce music, collaborating with new friends and artists he met in Milan, using the city’s more extensive resources to refine his craft.

He started to think bigger, to dream about how he could merge his love for music and his passion for business. Maybe he’d start his own record label, or a fitness brand that combined training and lifestyle with a musical edge. He began to see himself not just as a student, or a boy from Naples, but as someone who could bridge worlds — who could bring his unique perspective to whatever he chose to do.

But even in Milan, there were struggles. He missed the warmth of his hometown, the way the sea seemed to sing at night, the rough familiarity of his old neighborhood. Sometimes, the weight of expectation, the need to succeed, felt like a burden he couldn’t shake. He had to prove himself constantly, to prove that he belonged, that he wasn’t just another kid from a tough background trying to make it in the big city.

Yet Cesare was relentless. He remained true to the lessons his environment had taught him — the value of hard work, the strength of character, the importance of staying true to oneself. He learned to navigate Milan’s more polished social circles, but he never lost his Neapolitan roots, his accent still slipping through in moments of passion, his demeanor retaining a touch of the street-smart kid who had once navigated the dangers of the Quartieri.

Now, in his early twenties, Cesare stands as a man of contrasts: both tough and introspective, a fighter and a thinker, driven by ambition but grounded by the lessons of his past. He dreams of a future where he can combine his many passions, where his business acumen can intersect with his love of music and fitness, where he can create something meaningful, something that reflects the complexity of who he is and where he’s from.

Family background

The family unit is tight-knit but strained at times. Antonia’s hopes for a different life for her boys weigh heavily on Cesare, who feels the pressure to set an example. Despite the tension, loyalty runs deep — they share meals, worries, and rare moments of laughter amid the chaos.

Antonia Amato, mother (teacher, 57) — a strict yet loving schoolteacher who’s the moral backbone of the family. She’s fiercely protective and relentless in her efforts to steer her children away from the neighborhood’s pitfalls. A woman of strong principles and sharp intellect, she often struggles to reconcile her hopes with the harsh realities her sons face.

Giuseppe Amato, father (dockworker, 60) — gruff and taciturn, Giuseppe embodies the gritty, hard-working spirit of Naples. He’s a man of few words but deep pride, imparting lessons about loyalty, resilience, and survival. His stories about the “real” Naples — the shadowy world behind the tourist façade — fascinated Cesare growing up.

Salvatore Amato, second oldest (student, 18) — still in high school, impressionable but with flashes of the same stubborn will as Cesare. Often caught between admiration and rebellion.

Raffaele Amato, youngest brother (student, 14) — quiet and thoughtful, with a surprising love for poetry and history, offering a gentle contrast to the rougher edges of the family.

Friends

Alessio — they grew up together. Played soccer in the alleyways. Got into their first street fights together. Stole cigarettes from Alessio’s uncle’s bar. They were the ones who stayed clean — barely. Blood without the bloodline. The kind of friend where no words are needed. They don’t talk every day. But when Cesare goes back to Naples, he always sees Alessio first. They’ve seen each other in their worst — bleeding, crying, broke, furious. If Cesare ever got locked up, Alessio would be the one to show up without asking why. Loyalty doesn’t need to be spoken with them — it’s bone-deep.

Vincenzo — another friend from Naples. Vincenzo was a legend in the neighborhood when Cesare was still a teen. Known for his charm, mopeds, and messy entanglements. They officially met when Vincenzo stepped in during a street fight to back Cesare up. After that, they kept in touch. Vincenzo eventually left Naples too — for Milan, after things got complicated. Like a wild older cousin. Vincenzo brings chaos with him — always a story, always half-lies. Cesare rolls his eyes but secretly likes having him around. Vincenzo doesn’t judge. He calls Cesare “Capo” with irony, but if shit hits the fan, he’s got his back. They drink together, argue, swap gossip from home — and Vincenzo reminds Cesare of who he was before Milan hardened him.

Patrizia — she was the first person in Milan who really got under his skin — in a good way. They met at a boxing gym Cesare trained at. She was there doing Muay Thai, absolutely fearless. She made fun of his form and called him “Mister Broody”. He thought she was annoying. A week later, they were sharing post-gym espresso and trauma dumping. Brother and sister energy. No flirting, no weird tension — just love and brutal honesty. She’ll roast him for his toxic masculinity one second and patch him up after a fight the next. He talks to her about things he tells no one else. She reminds him he doesn’t have to be a statue all the time. And when he messes up? She calls him out, hard — but never walks away.

Federico (Felix) — childhood best friend from Naples. They met before memory could even form. Federico lived across the alley, always the kid with paint on his fingers and holes in his jeans from climbing too much. While Cesare was already learning to survive the street’s tempo — fists, silence, and instinct — Federico was designing outfits out of paper and glue, humming while dodging scooters. Federico is Cesare’s sunlight. Always was. The only person who saw Cesare’s anger and never flinched — but also the only one who refused to romanticize it. Federico reminds Cesare that the world can be designed, shaped, colored. That survival isn’t the only goal — sometimes beauty is resistance. They laugh deeply together. Federico is the one person who hugs Cesare without asking, and Cesare lets him. He’s not just a best friend — he’s a piece of Cesare’s soul that stayed soft.

Vittorio (Seungmin) — they were both late to a morning class — hungover from different parties, showing up with espresso and zero patience. The professor paired them up for a project on “art in the digital economy.” They both rolled their eyes — but Vittorio had ideas. Big ones. Cesare respected that. Vittorio didn’t act superior, just sharp — the kind of guy who read spreadsheets like poetry and understood that selling art didn’t mean selling out. Brains and strategy. Vittorio is the one Cesare goes to when it’s time to make real moves — contracts, launches, events. But more than that, Vittorio respects Cesare’s instincts, and Cesare values Vittorio’s logic. They talk about art as legacy, not just survival. There’s a calm maturity to their friendship — built on nights spent arguing over market disruption and hip-hop lyrics. In another life, they’d be co-founders of an empire. Maybe they still will be.

Edoardo (Hyunjin) — it was a panel on fashion x entrepreneurship. Edoardo showed up in all-black avant-garde tailoring, unbothered and magnetic. Cesare was half-bored, arms crossed in the back — until Edoardo spoke up about aesthetics as resistance. Cesare turned. They locked eyes across the room like something ancient had just clicked. Later, Cesare said: “Nice boots.” Edoardo replied: “Yours could use polish.” It was the beginning of everything. Respect. Mirror. Fire. Where Federico is softness, Edoardo is sharpness — cut from a different cloth, but just as essential. He challenges Cesare in ways others are too afraid to. They push each other. Cesare calls Edoardo “Art Boy” with mockery, but secretly listens when he talks about theory. Edoardo sees Cesare’s chaos and doesn’t try to fix it — he frames it. Cesare, in turn, trusts him to turn vision into something real. Their bond is rare: it’s elegant, volatile, and real.

Leonardo (Lee Know) — They met in Milan through a mutual friend who instinctively knew they were two pieces of a larger puzzle. Their first meeting happened over coffee in Navigli, meant to be a quick conversation about a potential dance event. Leonardo was looking for someone who could help manage the logistics — budgeting, venues, partnerships — and the friend who introduced them said Cesare was “one of the few who actually gets both money and art.” Cesare wasn’t easily impressed, but there was something magnetic about Leonardo. Their bond is built on mutual respect — but also on balance. Where Cesare offers stability and foresight, Leonardo brings fire and spontaneity. They became sounding boards for each other’s dreams, and over time, their partnership blurred the line between work and friendship. Now, Leonardo is one of the few people who can call Cesare at 2 a.m. with a half-formed idea, and instead of brushing it off, Cesare will sit up, rub his eyes, and say, “Dimmi.” (“Tell me.”)

Riccardo (Bangchan) — They met at an underground music showcase in Milan. Riccardo had just moved for university and was networking at a local music collective where Cesare occasionally freestyled or worked beats with people from the hip-hop circuit. Riccardo clocked Cesare immediately — the brooding guy in the corner with headphones on, nodding to beats but not speaking. Riccardo approached him, asked what he thought of the mix. Cesare just looked up and said: “Troppo pulito. Manca il sudore.” (“Too clean. Needs sweat.”). It was the start of a creative rivalry, then an intense friendship. Like yin and yang. Riccardo’s warmth balances Cesare’s sharp edge. They often argue about rhythm, politics, authenticity — but there’s profound respect under it. Riccardo’s one of the few people Cesare trusts with his lyrics. Their arguments are explosive, but their loyalty is unshakable. Riccardo knows when to challenge Cesare — and when to just sit beside him in silence.

Giulio (Jisung) — Cesare met Giulio at a university party he wasn’t even invited to. He was dragged there by Patrizia. Giulio was drunk and ranting in a corner about Dante being overrated and Pavese being depressed but brilliant. Cesare listened, then casually quoted Pasolini to shut him up. Giulio, wide-eyed, asked, “Wait, you read?” — and Cesare just smirked. Endless banter. Street vs Academia. Giulio calls Cesare “l’intellettuale di strada” (the street intellectual). Cesare calls him “Professò”. They disagree on everything, especially books — but deep down, they’re on the same side. Giulio is one of the few who sees how intelligent Cesare actually is — and Cesare quietly protects Giulio when his soft heart gets too exposed.

Valerio (Jeongin) — they met through Riccardo. Valerio was helping set up a live gig for the student music society. Cesare saw him messing with wires under a stage, cursing in Venetian dialect, and said: “Sei sicuro di saper fare ‘sta roba o devo chiamare l’elettricista?” Valerio flipped him off. Respect was earned quickly. Like a younger brother Cesare didn’t want but now fiercely protects. Cesare sees himself in Valerio — the impulsiveness, the quiet need to be taken seriously, the rage bottled up under charm. He’s tough on him, always — but in moments where Valerio spirals, Cesare is there. No speeches, no drama. Just presence. He never says it, but he’d throw punches for him in a heartbeat.

Neighborhoods

Naples — Quartieri Spagnoli (Spanish Quarters), cesare’s home — narrow alleys, echoing footsteps, neon lights flickering on graffiti-covered walls, and the ever-present smell of fried street food mixed with sea salt and diesel fumes. It’s a place alive with stories, danger, and resilience.

Porta Venezia, Milan — known for its diversity, artistic flair, and progressive atmosphere. Located near the city center, Porta Venezia is a melting pot of cultures and styles, blending Milan’s historical elegance with a modern, cosmopolitan vibe. The area is famous for its Art Nouveau architecture, stylish cafes, and vibrant nightlife. He share the flat with Federico.

Favorite Italian artists

Marracash — his raw, introspective rap resonates with Cesare’s inner struggles and street wisdom. Fave track, “Crudelia (i nervi)” -> this one hurts. It’s about emotional abuse, pride, vulnerability — Cesare has never been able to listen to it without feeling like it’s written at him. Marracash is the one rapper he sees as a true poet. “Hai dato un volto all’inferno.” Yeah.

Caparezza — a unique, original and multifaceted artist, a musician among the pioneers of Italian rap, Caparezza has always stood out on the music scene for his profound literary skills, making puns his signature style, combining satire and social criticism. Fave track, “Avrai ragione tu (ritratto)” -> It hits like a journal entry Cesare never wrote. The contradictions, the self-doubt masked in rage, the feeling of being out of place in a world that wants you simplified. Caparezza’s chaos matches Cesare’s mind — layered, fast, brutally clever.

Fabri Fibra — as a rapper who often confronts harsh realities and social critique in Italy, Fabri Fibra matches Cesare’s desire for raw, honest expression. His flow and attitude inspire Cesare’s own lyricism. Fave track, “Idee stupide” -> he blasts this when he needs to punch a wall or drown out the noise. Cesare doesn’t always agree with Fibra, but he admires the rawness, the shamelessness. The song is a scream with a beat. Sometimes that’s all you need.

Pino Daniele — though primarily a musician, Daniele’s Neapolitan soul and blues-infused melodies deeply connect with Cesare’s roots. Fave track, “Quanno Chiove” -> because the city sleeps and Cesare is alone with a cigarette, this is what plays. He grew up with it. It smells like his mother’s kitchen. Pino is the soul of Naples, and Cesare’s heart still beats in dialect.

Franco126 – roman songwriter. One hundred and twenty-six like the steps of the Viale Glorioso staircase in Trastevere. His rap writing crosses over into songwriting with a lucid ability to focus on reality and emotions. The vaguely retro style is matched by a rough and truthful timbre, a perfect bitter-sweet contrast capable of enveloping the heart. Fave track, “Blue Jeans” (feat. Calcutta) -> for the quiet nights, the wrong memories, the ghosts of people he left behind. This one? This one stings beautifully.

Favorite Italian dishes

Pizza Margherita: the quintessential Neapolitan pride, simple but perfect.

Spaghetti alle Vongole (Clam Spaghetti): fresh, salty, and evocative of the sea — a reminder of Naples’ coastal heartbeat.

Frittura di Paranza: mixed fried seafood, eaten street-side with friends after late-night outings.

Sfogliatella: sweet, flaky pastry for rare treats, often shared during family breakfasts.

Favorite movies

Scarface (1983) by Brian De Palma — the immigrant’s dream turned nightmare. He watches this with critical admiration, aware of how toxic that path is

Her (2013) by Spike Jonze — loneliness in a hyper-connected world. He’s fascinated by the emotional intelligence, the color palette, the sadness that lingers quietly

Dogman (2018) — quiet man pushed too far. A disturbing, but oddly heartbreaking film for Cesare. He gets the slow erosion of decency under pressure

Pane e Tulipani (2000) by Silvio Soldini — a woman rediscovers herself. Cesare found this on a late-night re-run. He was surprised how much he liked it — the quiet poetry of second chances.

Favorite writers

Cesare’s favorite writers share common threads: they’re either brutally honest about the darker sides of society or imaginative dreamers who transform harsh realities into art.

Eduardo De Filippo — “Napoli Milionaria!”, this play captures the heart of Naples during the difficult post-war years—poverty, survival, and moral ambiguity. Eduardo’s sharp humor and biting social commentary mirror Cesare’s own mix of toughness and wit. De Filippo is playwright and actor from Naples, his works portray Neapolitan life with humor and tragedy

Chuck Palahniuk — “Choke”, The dark satire and complex, flawed characters in Choke appeal to Cesare’s cynicism and sense of humor. Its exploration of addiction, identity crises, and survival in a world that feels both absurd and hostile mirrors his own inner battles. The way Palahniuk explores the darker sides of human nature, alienation, and underground culture fits Cesare’s own experience with conflict and societal expectations.

Victor Hugo — “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame” (Notre-Dame de Paris), the tragic story of Quasimodo and Esmeralda, outcasts fighting against fate and society’s cruelty, strikes a chord with Cesare. It mirrors his feelings of being judged by appearance and origin but holding a fierce, often hidden, humanity. Despite his grand, classical style, Hugo’s themes of justice, social inequality, and redemption inspire Cesare on a more aspirational level.

Roberto Saviano — “Gomorra”, Saviano’s exposé of the Camorra is more than journalism to Cesare—it’s a mirror reflecting the dangers and contradictions of his neighborhood. The raw, unfiltered portrayal of organized crime, corruption, and the suffocating grip of power fuels Cesare’s determination to stay on his own path and avoid being swallowed by the same forces.

Favorite seaside spots

Marechiaro — a small, picturesque fishing village just outside Naples, it’s a place of calm and tradition. Cesare finds peace there, a break from the chaos of his neighborhood

Posillipo Hills — overlooking the sea, a place for reflection and fleeting dreams of freedom

Spiaggia di Marina di Camerota (Cilento Coast) — less touristy, more authentic, this spot aligns with Cesare’s appreciation for places off the beaten path, where nature’s rawness mirrors his own grit.

Most used slang words

Guagliò (pronounced gwah-LYOH) — means “boy,” “dude,” or “mate.”Commonly used among friends in Naples, it reflects Cesare’s casual, streetwise way of addressing peers

Sta’ ‘nguaiato”— means “He’s in trouble” or “stuck in a mess.” Used to describe someone caught in a bad situation, common in street talk

Jammo — means “Let’s go!” or “Come on!”, a quick, energetic call to action, often heard on the streets or among friends when it’s time to move or do something

Vati corca (pronounced roughly “VAH-tee KOR-kah”) — means “Go lie down” or “Go to bed”, a dismissive way to tell someone to shut up, stop talking nonsense, or just get lost. Like saying “Go take a nap” but with a strong undertone of irritation or dismissal

Most used slurs

Sfaccimma (pronounced roughly “sfa-CHIM-ma”) — derives from the Italian “faccia” (face) combined with the vulgar suffix and meaning related to excrement, so it roughly translates as “piece of shit” or “scumbag.” Can be playful among close friends (with a sarcastic or teasing tone), but usually harsh and meant to sting if used seriously

Vafammò — short for “Vaffanculo,” meaning go fuck yourself

Omm’ e merd’ — one of the most classic Neapolitan slurs. It literally means “man of shit” or “shitty man.” harsh and direct, it hits on both personal character and masculinity, used mostly among men in informal, often hostile contexts

Representatives phrases

A chi t’ ’o ddice, a chi t’ ’o ddice! [Who’s telling you?] — reason: used when denying or feigning ignorance, cause he despises those kind of things

Ammò, staje senza pensier’ [Come on, don’t worry] — used to reassure a friend or himself, shows his protective and grounded nature

Chi ha paura muore ogni giorno, chi non ha paura muore una volta sola [He who is afraid dies every day, he who is not afraid dies only once] — a tough, stoic motto reflecting Cesare’s approach to life and danger

Favorite idioms

Non è bello ciò che è bello, ma è bello ciò che piace [What is beautiful is not what’s beautiful, but what pleases.] meaning: beauty is subjective, reflects Cesare’s nuanced understanding of appearances versus reality — especially in his judgment of people

Chi la dura la vince [Who perseveres, wins] meaning: perseverance pays off — core to his boxing mentality and life philosophy

Meglio un uovo oggi che una gallina domani [Better an egg today than a hen tomorrow] meaning: sometimes you have to settle for what’s real now instead of chasing uncertain dreams — reflects the practical side of Cesare

[phantomeros]

Thinking about them.... Ex scientist Mechanic living in the wastelands for blackmailing the government x scrapped android soldier that she rebuilt from her car.....

Aka. Dr caligaris cyberpunk grandchild x android cesare the somnambulist

[daekiyu]

dead money trauma yay... the courier came back wrong :/

[theatomickatz]

1025 jane

[celestite-caroline]

REALLY huge theada revamp! her role is still similar, but this time she's an unicorn that had to turn herself into a human to escape the Watcher, and she's aged a lot since then. Steve is still the only one who knows about Thea's true form, though

[rickmakessomeart]

The new Fallout Trailer came out and it got me in the mood to draw my OCs !

[katylokk]

Sketches

[purpletyrant]

Four children born of a death-tainted pariah and the only daughter of a dwindling clan. These siblings have each been warped by the city-state that bore them. While their grandmother hopes that they will raise the Visconti name from certain extinction, their true purpose is much simpler - they are meant to refill the city's depleted supply of necromancers, and nothing more. What they get up to in the meantime - whether blackmail, or subterfuge, or mere perversion - is no one's concern.

[psiioniicarts]

I’m still recovering from the 8 page paper I had to write for class on Monday so have a bunch of unrelated doodles

(Thanwa OC @djthekillercomrblx-blog )

[flowerbloom-arts]

Finally did some proper reference sheets for my OCs!!! If you have any questions about them feel free to ask, and if you want to make fanart or whatever feel even more free to do so!!! I love my babies so much.... I think I'll be updating this as I create more in the future.

[vmygdvlv]

After hours: echoes of a night !

Genre: angst. series / part.ii

Pairing: valerio x riccardo + (some edoardo & cesare in the mix) italian boys!au

Summary: valerio finds himself drawn into the world of his older university peers, eager to fit in and prove himself. When they invite him out for a night of drinking and revelry, Valerio is excited but anxious, knowing that the crowd he’s with is more experienced and reckless.

Warnings: emotional distress, substance abuse, peer pressure, aggressive behavior

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, harsh and unforgiving, as Valerio groaned and rolled over in bed. His head pounded, each throb a painful reminder of the night before. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the fog that clung to his mind. Every part of him felt heavy, weighed down by a mix of regret and the lingering effects of too much alcohol. But it wasn’t just the hangover that made him feel sick; it was the memory of Riccardo’s furious expression, the disappointment in his voice. Valerio couldn’t forget it, no matter how hard he tried. As he lay there, trying to piece together the events of the night, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, squinting at the screen. Some friends’s unread messages from the night before.

Cez : Ricky called me after he found you. Are you okay?

Edo: You good Val?? Rick said you were pretty out of it, man.

Valerio stared at the messages, his stomach churning. The last thing he wanted was to face everyone after how things had gone down. But there was no avoiding it. He knew they’d all be coming over soon—probably to hash out what happened, probably to lay into him, just like Riccardo had. He sighed, dragging himself out of bed. Riccardo, who had spent the night in the spare room, emerged into the living room, his expression tight with lingering frustration. By the time Valerio made it to the kitchen, Riccardo was already there, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. His face was hard, but there was a trace of concern in his eyes. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension. Valerio hesitated in the doorway, unsure of what to say.

“Morning,” Riccardo finally said, his voice flat.

“Morning,” Valerio replied, avoiding his gaze.

He could feel Riccardo’s disapproval radiating from across the room, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. Not yet. Before they could say anything more, the bell’s ring broke the silence. Valerio reluctantly got up to answer, revealing Edoardo and Cesare on the other side. Both greeted him with casual smiles, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air, the aftermath of the previous night still hanging over them.

“Can we come in?” Cesare asked, his tone clipped. Valerio nodded, stepping aside to let them in. They filed into the living room, each of them casting glances at Riccardo, who still hadn’t moved from his spot in the kitchen. The atmosphere was tense, like a storm cloud ready to burst.

“Hey, man,” Edoardo said, moving closer. “How are you feeling?”

Valerio shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Cesare followed, his gaze flicking between Valerio and Riccardo, sensing the strained atmosphere. “We figured we’d check in on you, see how you’re doing after… everything.”

Valerio’s jaw tightened, irritation flaring up. “I’m fine, Cez. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Edoardo, sensing the tension, chimed in with a light-hearted tone. “Hey, we’re just here to hang out, no lectures. We all have our nights, right?”

Riccardo, who had been silent up until now, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his expression hardening. “Some of us know when to stop before things get out of hand.” The comment hung in the air, sharp and accusatory.

Valerio’s eyes narrowed, a defensive edge creeping into his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Riccardo began, his voice low and controlled, “that last night was a disaster, Vale. You were reckless, and your so-called friends took advantage of that. You don’t see it, but you were this close to being in serious trouble.”

Edoardo stepped in, his tone calm but firm. “Ricky, come on, it wasn’t that bad. Vale was just blowing off some steam with his friends. We’ve all been there.” His voice was calm, almost too calm, as if he was trying to smooth things over before they escalated. “I’m not saying it was smart, but he’s not the only one to blame.”

Riccardo’s eyes narrowed as he turned to face Edoardo. “You’re defending him?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “You think what happened last night is just blowing off some steam? I don’t call that normal.”

Edoardo bristled, his own frustrations bubbling to the surface. “You’re overreacting. He didn’t need you to swoop in and save him. He’s not a kid, and he doesn’t need you controlling every aspect of his life.”

The words hit him hard, but his expression remained stoic. “I’m not trying to control him. I’m trying to keep him from making mistakes that he’ll regret later. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you?”

Before Valerio could respond, Edoardo’s voice cut through, low and heated. “And who keeps you in check, Ricky? You’re so busy trying to control everything that you’re pushing everyone away. Vale isn’t a project for you to manage.”

Riccardo’s temper snapped. “You think I’m trying to control him? I’m trying to protect him from ending up like you—drowning in mistakes you can’t take back.”

The words hung in the air like a slap. Edoardo’s eyes darkened, his expression a mix of hurt and fury. Edoardo’s face darkened, a hint of guilt flickering in his eyes as Riccardo’s words struck a nerve. “And now, what’s that supposed to mean uhm?”

Riccardo’s voice was cold, calculated. “It means I’ve seen how you acted on your nights out. You’re defending him because you see a bit of yourself in him. But this isn’t about you, and it’s not about being right. It’s about keeping him safe.”

Edoardo didn’t back down, his expression hardening. “And what’s your plan? To scare him into submission? You can’t control everything he does. None of us can—to be honest, you need to stop to control everything we do.”

Riccardo’s jaw clenched, the accusation striking a nerve. “You’re one to talk about control. You’ve got your own issues, Edo. Or have you forgotten all those nights where you didn’t know when to stop?” The room went still, the air thick with the weight of Riccardo’s words.

Edoardo’s thoughts had drifted elsewhere—back to his own battles with alcohol, to nights he wished he could forget. He knew what it was like to lose control, to let the bottle dictate your actions. And seeing Valerio now, caught in the same destructive cycle, brought an uncomfortable realization crashing down on him. It wasn’t that long ago when Edoardo himself had stumbled home after one too many drinks, his vision blurred, his mind clouded with poor decisions. There were moments—flashes—where he remembered Riccardo’s concerned gaze, the unspoken judgment, and the subtle way he’d try to steer him away from another drink. He had brushed it off back then, laughed it away with the same bravado Valerio had shown last night. But deep down, he knew Riccardo saw right through him, just as he was now seeing through the youngest boy.

Edoardo leaned forward, breaking the silence. “Look,” he started, his voice calm but edged with a quiet plea, “He made a mistake, sure. But we’ve all been there, right? We’ve all had those nights where things got out of hand. What matters is that he’s here now, that he’s okay.”

Riccardo’s eyes flicked over to him, a shadow of something unspoken passing between them. He knew exactly what his friend was trying to do, and the subtle tremor in Edoardo’s voice didn’t go unnoticed. Riccardo’s jaw tightened slightly as he replied, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not just about one night. It’s about the pattern, the choices. You can’t keep pretending it’s all just harmless fun when it’s starting to spiral.”

Cesare, who had been watching the argument unfold, finally stepped in, his voice steady and calm. “Guys come on, this isn’t the solution. We’re supposed to be here for helping, not fighting with each other.”

Valerio, who had been silent throughout the exchange, suddenly snapped. “You’re all talking like I’m not even here! I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, and I don’t need you treating me like I’m some kind of problem that needs fixing.”

Riccardo turned to him, his voice softer but still firm. “We’re just worried about you. Last night was out of control, and I don’t want to see you go down a path you can’t come back from.”

Valerio scoffed, his irritation boiling over. “You’re always worried. Always hovering, always trying to fix things. Maybe I just want to live my life without you breathing down my neck.”

Edoardo, sensing an opening, nodded in agreement. “He’s right. He’s old enough to make his own decisions. We all make mistakes, but he should be able to learn from them without you constantly watching over him.”

Riccardo’s jaw clenched, the frustration evident in his eyes. “I’m not trying to suffocate him, but someone has to look out for him. You weren’t there last night. You didn’t see how bad it was.”

Cesare, seeing the argument spiraling out of control, stepped forward, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Enough. This isn’t getting us anywhere. We’re all friends here. Let’s just take a step back and talk this through.”

But Valerio, still simmering with anger, wasn’t ready to let it go. “You all think you know what’s best for me, but you don’t. I’m not some kid who needs rescuing every time things get a little rough.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of Valerio’s words hanging in the air. Riccardo, feeling the sting of Valerio’s rejection, looked at him with a mix of hurt and frustration. “Vale, I just want what’s best for you. But if you can’t see that, then maybe I’m wasting my time.”

The words were harsh, cutting deeper than Riccardo intended, but the frustration of the last few days had taken its toll. Valerio’s eyes hardened, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, his phone buzzed on the table. Valerio glanced at the screen, and his face darkened as he read the name. It was one of the older peers from the night before, a reminder of the chaos that had started all this. Ignoring the tension in the room, he took the phone.

Andrea

Hey man, u good?? You kinda took off last night (11.04am)

Let me know when you’re free (11.07am)

Valerio’s grip on the phone tightened, his eyes flicking to Riccardo, who stood silently, his expression unreadable. The room felt charged, as if it was on the brink of another explosion. But this time, Riccardo took a deep breath, calming himself. “We seriously need to talk about this. But not like this. Let’s take a step back, cool down, and figure this out together.”

The words were reasonable, measured, but Valerio wasn’t ready to listen. The anger, the embarrassment, and the pressure all coalesced into a wall he wasn’t ready to break down. “Well, seriously, I don’t need your help. I can handle this myself,” his voice tinged with defiance. The argument wasn’t over—far from it—but for now, it simmered just below the surface, waiting for the next spark to reignite it. Valerio’s abrupt tone echoed in the room, hanging heavy in the tense silence that followed. He put his phone down with a finality that made it clear the conversation was over—for now.

Riccardo’s eyes narrowed as he processed Valerio’s words, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He was torn between wanting to shake some sense into Valerio and stepping back to let him make his own mistakes. But the protective instinct within him was too strong to ignore. Before the oldest could respond, Cesare cleared his throat, breaking the thick silence. He had been watching the tension escalate, hoping it would fizzle out, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.

“Look,” Cesare began cautiously, his tone diplomatic, “we’re all just trying to help here. Vale, we get that you want to handle things on your own, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to listen to Ricky. He’s only looking out for you.”

Valerio shot him a look, the defiance in his eyes barely masked. “I’m not some project for him to fix. I know you guys think you’re helping, but this isn’t your problem.”

Edoardo, who had been quiet since Riccardo’s subtle dig earlier, felt the need to jump in, his loyalty to Valerio driving him to speak. “He’s right. He doesn’t need you playing the overprotective brother. Maybe if you backed off a little, he wouldn’t feel so cornered.”

Riccardo’s gaze snapped to Edoardo, his temper flaring again. “This isn’t about playing big brother, Edo. Last night was a mess, and it could’ve been worse if I hadn’t stepped in. You didn’t see what I saw—he was out of control, and those older guys were more than happy to push him further.”

Valerio bristled at Riccardo’s words, his temper flaring up once more. “I didn’t ask you to step in! You act like you’re the only one who knows what’s best for me, but you’re not. You’re just—”

“Just what?” He interrupted, his voice rising. “Just trying to keep you from doing something stupid? Just trying to make sure you don’t end up regretting things later? Yeah, Valerio, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Because someone has to!”

He clenched his fists, his voice hardening. “Maybe I don’t want your help! Maybe I just want to figure things out on my own without you breathing down my neck all the time!”

The room fell into a tense silence again, the argument teetering on the edge of something deeper, something that had been building for a while. Riccardo took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger. He could see that Valerio was pushing back harder than ever, but he couldn’t just let this go.

Cesare, sensing that the situation was getting dangerously close to boiling over, tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Look, maybe we’re all just tired and stressed out. We’ve been through a lot these past few days. Let’s not tear each other apart over this.”

But Riccardo wasn’t ready to let it go, not yet. “You’re right, we have been through a lot. But this isn’t something we can just brush off. He’s not seeing the bigger picture here, and if he keeps going down this path, things are going to get worse.”Valerio, feeling cornered and defensive, shot back with an edge in his voice. “The bigger picture? You’re acting like I’m falling apart, but I’m not! I’m handling things the way I need to, and I don’t need you judging me for it.”

Riccardo’s expression darkened, his frustration reaching its peak. “Handling it? You call getting wasted with a bunch of guys who don’t give a damn about you handling it? Come on, you’re smarter than this. You’re better than this.”

Valerio’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice trembling slightly. “Don’t you dare lecture me about being better. You think you know everything, but you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like to feel like you’re constantly under a microscope, like you can’t make a single mistake without everyone jumping down your throat. It’s fucking exhausting!”

Riccardo’s temper flared at that, but before he could respond, Valerio’s phone buzzed again on the table, breaking the tension momentarily. Valerio grabbed it, his expression souring as he read the message. He muttered a curse under his breath, his frustration mounting.

“What now?” Riccardo asked, his tone sharp.

Valerio didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the screen. Then he turned the phone toward Riccardo, showing him the message. It was from one of the older peers, another taunting remark, this time with a link to the video from the night before. The video was even worse than he’d imagined—Valerio, clearly intoxicated, egged on by the older students as they pushed him into doing more shots, the entire scene a blur of loud music, slurred voices, and reckless behavior.

Riccardo’s face went cold as he watched the clip, his anger mixing with a deep sense of concern. “This is what you call handling it?” he asked, his voice low, almost dangerous. “This is what you wanted to do last night?”

Valerio’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “It’s not your business what I do with my friends.”

“Not my business?” Riccardo’s voice rose again. “Valerio, this isn’t just some harmless fun. These guys don’t care about you. They’re just using you for a laugh, and you’re letting them.”

“Enough!” Valerio snapped, his voice cracking with a mixture of anger and something deeper, something vulnerable. “You’re not my dad, you’re not in charge of me. Just—back off!”

Riccardo opened his mouth to retort, but Cesare stepped in, once again, his voice firm. “Alright, stop it. You’re acting immature and this isn’t helping anyone. You need to cool down before you end up saying something you’ll both regret.”

But Riccardo’s gaze remained locked on Valerio, his frustration barely contained. He was about to argue further when he realized the futility of it—Valerio wasn’t going to listen, not now, not while he was this defensive. Taking a deep breath, Riccardo forced himself to step back, his voice strained. “Fine. You want space? You’ve got it. But don’t think this conversation is over.”

Valerio watched as Riccardo turned and left the room, his emotions swirling in a confusing mix of anger, guilt, and exhaustion. As the door closed behind him, Valerio slumped back onto the couch, staring blankly at the video still playing on his phone. The tension in the room was palpable, and for a moment, no one spoke. Finally, Edoardo, who had been watching the entire exchange with a troubled expression, shook his head and muttered, “This is messed up.” Valerio didn’t respond, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He knew, deep down, that Riccardo was right—that he had gotten in over his head. But admitting that, even to himself, felt like a defeat he wasn’t ready to accept.

The tension lingered in the air long after Riccardo left the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. Valerio remained slouched on the couch, staring blankly at the phone in his hand. The video had stopped playing, but the scenes replayed in his mind, each frame a reminder of how far things had spiraled out of control. His heart pounded with a confusing mix of anger and shame. Part of him knew Riccardo was right, but admitting that felt like giving up some essential part of himself—his independence, his pride. Edoardo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing over at Cesare, who was watching Valerio with a careful, measured expression.

Finally, Edoardo broke the silence, his voice softer than before. “You okay, man?” Valerio didn’t answer immediately. When he finally looked up, his eyes were hardened, his defenses back up. “I’m fine. Just tired of everyone acting like I’m some kind of screw-up.”

Cesare sighed, leaning forward. “No one thinks that. Ricky’s just worried. We all are. Last night—it got out of hand, and we’re just trying to make sure you’re alright.”

Valerio clenched his jaw, frustration flaring up again. “I don’t need everyone treating me like a kid. I know what I’m doing, alright? Let me breathe.”

Edoardo frowned, a pang of guilt tightening his chest. He could see so much of himself in Valerio—he knew what it was like to push back, to act like everything was under control when it wasn’t. “Look, I get it,” Edoardo said, his voice careful. “But Riccardo’s not wrong, either. Those guys… they’re not really your friends, you know?”

Valerio shot him a sharp look. “And who are you to say that? You barely know them.”

Edoardo hesitated, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face. “I know enough. And I know what it’s like to get caught up in that scene. It’s easy to think you’re just having fun, but it can turn on you fast.”

Valerio’s gaze narrowed. “You’re saying I’m just like you, huh? That I’ve got a problem?”

Edoardo stiffened, feeling the sting of the words. Before he could respond, Cesare stepped in, his voice calm but firm. “Alright, watch it. We’re not here to judge anyone. But you’ve got to understand that we’re coming from a place of concern, not control.”

He scoffed, but the edge in his voice was less sharp than before. “Yeah, well, I don’t need concern. I need people to trust me to figure things out.”

Cesare nodded slowly, choosing his words carefully. “We do trust you, Vale. But trust goes both ways. You’ve got to trust that when Riccardo, or any of us, step in, it’s because we care, not because we think you’re incapable.” There was a heavy pause as Valerio absorbed Cesare’s words. He looked down at his phone again, the screen dark and blank now, and took a deep breath.

“I get it, okay? But you’ve all got to back off a little. Let me deal with this.”

Edoardo exchanged a glance with Cesare, who gave a slight nod. Edoardo turned back to Valerio, his tone gentler now. “Alright. But just… don’t shut us out, man. We’re here when you need us.” Valerio didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders eased just a little. He knew deep down that he wasn’t handling things as well as he wanted to believe, but admitting that felt like crossing a line he wasn’t ready for. Just as the silence settled over the room again, Valerio’s phone buzzed, breaking the moment. He glanced at the screen and felt a jolt of irritation as he saw the name of one of his older peers flash across it. Without thinking, he answered the call, putting it on speaker.

“Valerio!” The voice on the other end was loud, almost obnoxiously so. “Man, last night was wild, huh? We’ve got to do that again sometime.”

His expression hardened, a mixture of embarrassment and anger tightening his chest. “Yeah, about that…” he began, but the peer cut him off with a laugh.

“Oh, don’t be a downer. You’re one of us now. Just need to loosen up a bit more, and you’ll fit right in.”

Riccardo’s words from earlier echoed in his mind, and a fresh wave of anger surged through him. “You guys left me at the club, remember? That’s not exactly how friends act.”

The peer’s laugh faded slightly, replaced by a tone of indifference. “Come on, don’t be so sensitive. We figured you could handle yourself. Besides, it was all in good fun.” Valerio’s grip tightened on the phone, but before he could respond, Riccardo’s voice broke through the tension. He had walked back into the room without anyone noticing, his expression dark and resolute.

“Fun? Is that what you call it? Getting him trashed and leaving him to fend for himself?” There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. “Who the hell is that?”

“The guy who had to pick up the pieces after you bailed,” Riccardo shot back, his voice cold. “And let me make this clear—Valerio’s not your entertainment. He’s done with you and your bullshit.” Valerio’s eyes widened, torn between anger and relief as he watched Riccardo take control of the situation. The peer on the other end stammered something incoherent before the line went dead, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Riccardo stared down at Valerio, his expression softening slightly, but the anger was still there, simmering just below the surface.

“This isn’t over. But for now, you need to figure out who your real friends are.” He met his gaze, the weight of Riccardo’s words sinking in. He knew Riccardo was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it. But there was still that stubborn part of him that resisted, that didn’t want to give Riccardo the satisfaction of being right. Before he could respond, Riccardo turned and walked out of the room again, leaving Valerio to sit with his thoughts. Edoardo and Cesare exchanged a look, unsure of what to say. They both knew this was just the beginning of a much longer conversation—one that wouldn’t be resolved in a single morning.

Valerio’s thoughts churned, each one crashing against the next in a relentless wave of frustration, guilt, and defiance. The silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable, as Edoardo and Cesare exchanged wary glances. They were used to Riccardo’s overbearing nature, but the intensity of the confrontation had left even them on edge.

Finally, Cesare spoke, his voice cautious. “Vale, he’s just worried about you. You know that, right?”

Valerio stared at the phone in his hand, his mind replaying the events of the night before like a broken record. The drinking, the laughter that had turned hollow, the way his so-called friends had ditched him without a second thought. But what gnawed at him most was the way Riccardo had stormed in, taking control of the situation like Valerio was some helpless kid who couldn’t handle his own life. It made his blood boil.

“I don’t need him handling my shit,” Valerio muttered, more to himself than to the others.

Edoardo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “He’s not trying to handle it, man. He’s trying to protect you. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” He shot back, his eyes flashing with anger. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. It feels like he doesn’t think I can handle anything on my own.”

Edoardo bit back a sigh, recognizing the familiar tone in Valerio’s voice. It was the same defiance he had used countless times when people tried to tell him he had a problem. He had always pushed them away, too proud or too stubborn to admit he was spiraling. He could see Valerio was on that same path, and it terrified him.

“Look,” Edoardo said, choosing his words carefully, “I know what it’s like to feel like people are coming down on you, like they don’t trust you. But sometimes, they’re right to be worried. Sometimes you’re too deep in it to see how bad things are getting.”

Valerio’s jaw tightened. “I’m not you, Edoardo. I’ve got this under control.”

“Do you?” Edoardo’s voice was sharper than he intended, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. “Because last night didn’t look like control to me. It looked like you were being used by those guys, and you didn’t even realize it.”

Valerio’s eyes blazed with anger. “I don’t need a lecture from you, alright? You’re not exactly a saint. Nobody here is.”

The words hit home, and Edoardo flinched, the accusation cutting deep. But before he could respond, Cesare intervened, stepping between them like a mediator. “Okay, cut the shit,” he said firmly. “Drop the attitude Vale, because we’re not your enemies here. We’re just trying to make sure you don’t end up in a worse situation.”

Valerio crossed his arms, his anger still simmering just below the surface. “You’re all making it out to be more than it is. It was one night.”

“Was it?” Riccardo’s voice suddenly cut through the tension as he re-entered the room, his expression stony. He had clearly overheard the conversation, and the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t done with this discussion. “Because this feels like it’s been building for a while now.”

Valerio glared at him. “Oh please, you’re overreacting.”

Riccardo stepped closer, his presence imposing. “Maybe. But I’d rather overreact now than have to scrape you off the pavement later because you decided to trust the wrong people.”

Valerio’s chest tightened, the reality of Riccardo’s words hitting harder than he wanted to admit. But he couldn’t back down now, not after everything that had been said. “You don’t get it. You think you’re helping, but you’re just suffocating me. I need space to figure things out on my own.”

“And what about when that space gets you into trouble?” Riccardo shot back, his voice rising. “You think those guys care about you? They left you to rot as soon as things got messy. That’s not friendship, Valerio. That’s manipulation.”

Edoardo, sensing the situation escalating again, stepped in front of Riccardo, trying to defuse the tension. “Ricky, ease up. We’re all on the same side here.”

But Riccardo wasn’t backing down. “Are we? Because it seems like everyone’s just enabling him, pretending this isn’t a bigger problem.”

Valerio’s anger flared. “I don’t need you to babysit me!”

“I’m not trying to babysit you!” Riccardo snapped, his control slipping. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t end up in a situation you can’t walk away from.”

“Like what?” Valerio challenged, his voice rising. “What do you think’s going to happen?”

“Worst case?” Riccardo said, his voice deadly serious. “You get into a car with someone drunker than you are, or you get into a fight you can’t win, or you pass out in some alley and never wake up. That’s what I’m afraid of, Valerio. That’s what keeps me up at night.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as the weight of Riccardo’s words sank in. Even Edoardo, who had been ready to argue further, couldn’t find a response. Cesare looked between them, his own concern etched on his face, but he didn’t know how to bridge the gap that had grown between them all. Finally, Valerio looked away, his anger replaced by a hollow feeling he couldn’t shake.

“I’m not that stupid,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

“I know you’re not. But you’re also not invincible. None of us are.” Riccardo’s expression softened, but his resolve remained.

Valerio didn’t respond, his thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. The truth was, he didn’t know where to go from here. He felt trapped between his pride and the undeniable fact that Riccardo might be right. He couldn’t meet his gaze. The reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt sick, ashamed, but also angry at himself, at those so-called friends, and at Riccardo for being right all along. Riccardo handed the phone back without a word, then turned to leave the room, his patience finally exhausted.

“You figure out what you want. But don’t expect me to just stand by and watch you destroy yourself.”

As he walked out, the tension in the room remained thick and suffocating. He had never felt so lost, so conflicted. He wanted to lash out, to deny everything, but deep down, he knew the truth was staring him in the face. Edoardo shifted uneasily, his own guilt and fear gnawing at him. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but he knew Valerio needed time to process everything.

Finally, Valerio spoke, his voice low and strained. “I—I screwed up, didn’t I?”

Cesare, who had been silently watching from the sidelines, nodded slowly. “Yeah, Vale, you did. But we’re talking about Ricky, he gets aggressive when scared. You know he loves you and he will always, always, worry about you. About all of us. So it’s not too late to fix it.” Valerio looked up at his friends, the weight of their concern pressing down on him. For the first time, he realized just how far he had pushed them away, how much he had taken their support for granted. And now, standing on the edge of something he couldn’t fully understand, he wasn’t sure how to make things right. But one thing was clear—he couldn’t do it alone.

[phantomeros]

CLEANED UP A PROPER CHARA REF SHEET FOR THE ROBOT OF THE MECHANIC IVE BEEN DRAWING....

[daekiyu]

my courier cesar

[mataurin]

I commissioned @trashpocket to draw my girls if everyone could take a second to behold my girls!!! Guess which one of them commits crimes and murders

[0m3n-0f-d3ath]

⚰️figure from my dreams

again because it haunts my psyche⚰️

[gummibug]

Me showing you guys my ocs for artfight