#screams djdjjk

[napalmvein]

As strong as he was stubborn, the main injury given from his aggressive clash had been between a six-foot five, burly man in his mid-thirties who referred to himself as 'Ace'. An occasional attendee who had the upper hand compared to most of the other men. Whenever it was time for him and Vince to go against one another, neither one would stop until the other gave out; being deemed as one of the must see acts of the night. There’d been speculation that Ace was either on some type of narcotic or just someone built entirely different because the man had an intense adrenaline rush that wouldn’t tone itself down. Paul had to have his star pupil removed before things went too far, he just wouldn’t quit, even when he was at the brink of blacking out.

He cracked a weak smile at the encouragement behind her words, heart unable to prevent itself from feeling as if it were on cloud nine. Unexpected yet warm and welcoming. “Thank you.” It’d been something he needed to hear, especially in that perspective. Warriors who still stood tall with a sense of pride even after defeat. Allowing her to lead the way over towards the couch, he sat down and shifted in a comfortable position then watched her leave to retrieve much needed necessities. Blinking a couple of times to ensure this wasn’t a dream and in fact reality. The night at Mad dog Maddox had put another thick layer of icing on the cake and gave a clear indicator that what lingered between them went much deeper than they realized, whether they wanted to outright admit it or not.

Even if he felt as if he'd been run over by a truck, he was one to be in good spirits when given the opportunity, even in the most nerve-wracking scenario possible. Fighting the menacing smirk that followed, a strained laugh escaped his lips. "I'll be a good boy." Grimace followed after, feeling as if someone prodded him in the side with a spear. He watched observantly as several pill bottles spilled onto the table, a few rolling towards the edge from the impact but stopping just in time. Palm opened for the pills, and he popped them into his mouth, swallowing without hesitation and humming with approval. Body tensed at the removal of his robe to access the main injury, since he’d been too slow, upper half of him exposed and a shiver ran down his spine from the lack of warmth. Practically yanking the water out of her hand after fed the pill dust, he gulped down the liquid as if he’d been out wandering the desert. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he sat the bottle beside him and a sigh left his lips. “Yeah…I’m hopin’ they’re cracked too.” He didn’t want to have to deal with the burden of broken ribs, that meant a longer recovery.

Glancing away he almost felt ashamed. The corners of his mouth turned down into a frown. More so at himself for making her worry to the point she had to track him down and go way out of her way to make sure he was okay. The fear he picked up and how she’d been on the verge of tears upon arrival felt like a sucker punch to the gut. Why couldn’t he have just quit? Mouth parted to speak, but quickly closed when he’d been cut off, and he caught on to how different her emotions were towards him compared to usual. Something he’d cherish internally. A month. A month or more without fighting caused his expression to falter, he’d be a sitting duck. Delicate fingers that began tending to the wound snapped him out of thought, the one Mantis had done so poorly, practically leaning into the touch, unfazed by the needle poking his skin. “Maybe I can coax Paul into letting you beat him up.” Trying to lighten the mood. He mumbled, meeting her softened gaze and swallowing thickly. Eyes cascading down toward her lips, a few repetitive takes until he broke eye contact and shook his head at the question that followed.

"No, didn't have much of an appetite. And hey, anyone who says alcohol isn't a breakfast staple is fuckin’ lying." He scoffed as if the statement were ludicrous, but the tone behind it wasn’t serious. Wrapping the robe loosely around him, he used the arm of the couch to push himself on his feet, holding up a hand to indicate he was fine, fingertips rubbing the corner of his eyes in hopes to soothe the irritation. Refusing to be in a lethargic state unless he had to, shuffling down the hall while gesturing her to follow. A couple of framed photographs scattered along deep burgundy walls, one standing out in particular; a recent family portrait of Eddie with his wife and kids, alongside a few pieces of gothic artwork. Heading towards the kitchen, he flipped on the light, squinting slightly at the brightness. “I have meat out the wazoo, not only in this fridge but a freezer full in the garage. Not all of it is for me though.” Referring to the hybrid peering on the other side the sliding glass door, ears folded back in suspicion, glowing eyes observing the interaction between owner and newcomer.

“And uh….” He opened the fridge, hunkering over while hands ransacked through miscellaneous perishables, occasionally picking up one that piqued his interest. More like checking the expiration date. “…some other stuff. Eggs. And milk. Why, were you intending on prepping up something after you examined me?” Standing up with a wince and closing the door, canine teeth bit down on his tongue while he shot her a cheeky grin.

She should have been there . . .

Regret taking a juicy portion of the remaining fragile composure. Slow shake of the head, gnawing at the tender meat of the inside part of the cheek on the statement about his loss. Many things the complex woman was, but hypocritical not one of them. Pride -- a heavy ball of lead, weighing them both down, and leading them to this devastating moment. Even after the rollercoaster ride of the last evening they spent together in the Mad dog Maddox, after clear indications that their attraction can't be reduced to simple lust, that they were unable to wash off the scent of the other along with the crave for their presence after the erotic dance they shared for a night, Clare refused to return to Castello's underground arena. Far from the eyes, far from the foolish heart -- ' experimental medicine ' the ruby haired woman chose. . . what she sowed, she reaped now -- one painful look on the mess on the handsome face as an agonizing reminder.

" You didn't. You didn't fuck up anything. " Firmness of the response unfaltering. Chartreuse orbs captured the icy blues, thumb mindlessly gazing the chin with care. " Not even king Leonidas and the three hundred Spartans could defeat the Persians in one go. . . but they remained on their feet, bloodied and bruised, proud. . . like you should be. " Tenderness and integrity in the euphonious voice stripped from any bitterness it usually carried. She suddenly withdrew her fingers from the damaged area as if she had touched an ember, when she saw his reaction. Stress and concern levels skyrocketed as she listened to Vince's words. Coldness? Symptom never promising nothing good, certainly when a result of a fight. Difficulty breathing? Broken, or best case scenario -- cracked ribs. Rage rose like a tide, pearly whites nearly breaking under the pressure of the clenched jaw. Whoever he fought, won't be seeing the new light of day. Instant protective reaction, not clear thinking, just the inextinguishable desire to crucify the one responsible, along with the useless ' pretend to be ' medic. . . even Paul was more in the lines of the murder circle than out.

Tension in his chain of muscle snapped her back, forgetting everything -- even the fact this was not her home nor was she invited in, while slowly, carefully leading him back in. The space around her blank to her perception, even if there was a Cerberus sitting on the coffee table, wearing a dinosaur costume and dancing ballet, Clare would be oblivious to it. Only thing that she allowed her eyes to acknowledge was the wounded man she cared so deeply for she would trade for his misfortunate outcome in a heartbeat, and a beaten up ,tasteless patterned sofa. Lowering the man much larger than herself with strict precision not to even brush the painful parts, Clare darted out of the house in the moment his back was greeted with the sofa's satiny pillow. Clock didn't even count down a full minute before the woman emerged from the sooty shadows, forgetting to slam the front door shut. A canvas bag with a chemistry joke printed on it, saying : What do you do with a dead chemist? Barium, from which one could hear the clinking of pills and mysterious metal objects, fell on the glass surface of the coffee table.

" Lower the robe. " Controlled tone ordered, but before she continued, she quickly added. " No smart ass comments. " Raising the index finger to warn him, knowing Vince being the type of guy that would rather bite his tongue off than swallow a dirty joke, Clare had no nerves to spare -- they were strained to their limits because of the uneasiness caused by his state. Pulling a few colorful bottles neatly marked with Latin names, fingers pulled three small pills, placing them gently in his palm. " Drink it, it will stop the pain but won't make you dazed nor make you sleepy. Having no time to wait for him to expose the area that concerned her the most, swift fingers curled over the robe, pulling the upper part off vigilantly. The striking purple-blue with yellow edges made her eyebrows droop and her nostrils flare in anger. "Fucking son of a bitch. . . I swear to Christ. . . " swallowing the tail of the sentence, snow-white teeth bit the tip of the tongue. There was no X-rays, so this had to be done the old fashioned way. Retrieving one more pill shaped like an egg, blue-ish in color, Clare crushed it with a glass bottle of water she pulled from the bag. " Open. " Placing the pill dust without waiting for approval in the mouth, she pushed the water in his hand. " It will numb the senses for a short period of time, enough so I can examine you. I hope its just cracked. . not broken. "

A short, intense pause, then she voiced her concern. " This was not the kick that stopped you, right? " Fearing the answer would make her want to strangle him, she continued. " At this point you knew it was over, but it didn't prevent you from continuing. Damn it Vince, what is it, if you are not dead, you keep rolling? " No ' I don't care ' person sounds like she did at this moment. But scarlet haired woman was blind to how exposed her bubbling emotions were. " You can't fight for the next month, you can't. " I wont let you. It almost slipped, but the permanent resident of her soul , the ' curbed one ' , caught the sentence in time. Waiting for another minute for the painkiller to do its magic, another tool for wellness came to light. Unpacking a sterile needle and sutures, Clare delicately started cleaning the man's face, gently wiping the caked blood, placing small adhesive bandages on the tiny cuts before starting stitching the left eyebrow properly. " Next time, I am fighting the fucking mantis. I sweat he will choke on every damn unsterile piece of equipment he owns along with this shit. " Throwing the pieces of sutures that bug-like man so terribly used, she finished the face, taking a bit too long look at Vince. Eyes softened and corners of the mouth slightly curled downwards. " Have. . . have you eaten? You need some vitamins, food to get the strength back. . . you can't have your stomach empty because of the pills either. Also, beer is not a substitute for a meal. "

[noodlepai]

HELL YEAH, I have favoritism towards the emo mii man and I love inflicting hardships on him ❤️

Okay so I absolutely love this concept, and it reminds me of my little emo mii man with the special red pant, so I love it even more, rubs my tiny hands together:

Austin staring at him and the freaking light show that is eteled's textures going bonkers, and is confused as hell as to what he's even hearing like "...Is that what I sound like??? Sheesh"

It would probably spook Austin a bit if it like, just would seem to come up outta nowhere, mid argument or whatever fight they're having, and I like to think that along with eteled not knowing what tf just happened within that short time that he's just severely glitched, that he gets a headache right afterwards, at varying intensities, so he's just grouchy af when he comes to again, and looks at Austin, who's staring at him, like "What you staring at??? thought you said you weren't into guys"

eteled's voice would probably be ruined for at least a few days also, almost as if he were screaming for hours and if his throat (??) was sore, and he'd be puzzled for ages on why exactly he gets so fucked up when he's extremely stressed out, so he tries to avoid it

Another idea djdjJKS but I ALSO like to think that each time it occurs, that it slowly becomes more frequent, or just becomes more easily triggered, almost like some sort of infection but in glitch form, so for example, if he got spooked by Austin or something, and got stressed out from it, even if it wasn't too, too much, then he'd have a good chance of just starting to bug out and not making any sense with his voice, not like he himself even understands what he's trying to say with being corrupted anyway

I got a really stupid idea involving dumb short emo bitch and dumb tall bitch™ but it makes no sense anf im 99% sure its from listening to spamton g spamton on loop

Leans over table to listen in,,, go on go on I'm invested, I must know