prisonaesthetic

[prisonaesthetic]

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

[prisonaesthetic]

In slow time.

[ 18′10′19 ]

[ song : adagio in g minor ]

A building, ever so large and ever so old. Set in a street filled with plenty more, all as characteristic as the next one was. All as clearly old and used yet so different in their own way.

A beautiful sight it truly was, something that could easily be described in a novel. Everything so carefully put into detail, the reader only able to live in the moment as if they were truly there.

A building, standing tall and high in the middle of a street. Standing out for its unoccupied looks, with curtains never once seen open, lights not even once turned on. The door and windows creaking ever so eerily when the wind was even a little harder than it would be on any average day.

The stones long gone tainted and grim, the paint slowly flaking off of the door and onto the pavement, soon gone by the wind. Everything about the large house would make one wish to avoid it, which was most likely exactly why they would have chosen this particular hide out.

After all, who would ever look for them here, who, in their right mind, would ever wish to willingly enter such an unsettling and unsanitary looking place.

No sound could be heard from outside yet once entered such would be quick to change.

A hallway, ever so dark and ever so long, seemingly endless, entered at first. The door, large and heavy, loud to fall shut behind one. Creaking could be heard everywhere, even when one did not move in the slightest of bits.

Every step, carefully, taken onto the dust covered carpet would increase sound of creaking, would make little clouds of dust puff up into the air.

Walking through the hallway should be done ever so carefully, for it is unknown when the building could collapse. Seeming so fragile with every creak yet so stable, for it never once faltered despite what it has been through.

The lights an old yellow glow along the way, one shining brighter than the other, guiding one along the way. Yet bright is not how it should be described, no, dim would perhaps be a far better description for the lights. Just enough to not distort one’s vision, not seeing non-existent shadows passing along while one would walk through the endless hallways. Or perhaps it would be depending on the imagination of whoever dared walked these halls.

Only if one were to know the building, would they stand a chance to maneuverer through, with little to no knowledge one’s chances were simply a lost cause. Getting lost would be only but expected in such an unfortunate situation.

Hallway upon hallway, corner upon corner, room upon room. Entering and leaving, a careful path one would walk.

However, eventually there would a room, a big one at that. Stairways, as old and broken as the flooring, would be seen. Several at that, all leading up to their own flooring, or so it would seem.

The oldest and most unsafe one looking would be the one to take. Careful on each step, were they not already broken off in the first place, one would walk up.

Once reaching the second floor the silence would be different.

Yes, the creaking of the building and the howling of the wind would still be heard, easily even. Flickering of lights even perhaps, and so on.

However, that was not what would grab one’s attention any longer. No, no, what was would be a new sound, a far different one than from before.

A sound so melodious it would calm one despite how soft sounding it was, barely able to be heard from such a distance. Even from the top of the stairs, barely having entered the second floor, it could easily be made out that the new sound was carried out with care.

Would it have been called a harmonious and calming melody were it not for the rather atrocious setting one was in? That would stay unknown, a mystery to solve oneself for it was only once it would be heard.

What it was, was still rather unclear for the distance between the listener and the creator, if it was manmade at all. Except it had to be, it simply could not be from the building itself, for it was too delicate in comparison to anything around.

And so, to walk closer over the ever so loudly creaking floorboards would be the only solution to find out the source, would it not? For it seemed to originate from one place, unmoving and never changing.

The second floor would, as was only expected, creak only more so than the first floor did. Seemingly more unstable, due to what could have easily been plenty of reasons. Perhaps it was for the poor build, perhaps it was for it simply being a second floor and not set directly on the ground, perhaps, and most likely, it was for having been in more use.

The latter being more truthful than the other two were, for it was clear for anyone to see. The hallways still dimly lit in that old and yellow glow of the lights, yet only slightly brighter than before, more of the lights would work than not. The carpet seemed just as dirty as that of the first floor, yet it was more due to use than due to neglect of cleaning and laying to dust away over the years. With proper inspection footprints could have been easily pointed out in the mixture of dirt and dust, pointing all directions of the hallways, only showing even more how busy it could have been on any other given moment.

The wallpapers would still be ripped to shreds and hanging on small bits and pieces, the exact same could have been said about the paintings hanging in the hallways. So faded away that it was hard to make out what they once could have been, portraits, landscapes or even something else, it was hard to figure out after such a long time and with such poor lightning as well.

The few mirrors that hung lonely in between the paintings could have easily been mistaken for yet another aged and misshapen painting as well, smeared with grim and dirt, nothing more but a grey greenish array of uncleanliness in a, once, beautiful and golden frame.

With the melodious sound slowly seeming to come nearer and nearer, although it was simply reaching the source of the melody that made it seem as such, it would only bring out the setting of the building more and more. All to be put together ever so easily and ever so beautifully, as if a puzzle.

The noise, now heard far better than before, as slow as thought to be, as melodious as thought to be. Sounding in such a way is if it was the telling of a story of tragedy and sadness, a story of art and beauty. A story to be heard by all who were willing, dragging them into a deep trance of reverie and transfixion. Unable to leave the transfixion till the telling was over, allowing for the creator to take a hold of their listeners’ consciousness, allowing to steer them as the creator would desire so.

With each step carefully taken into the correct direction, towards the source of the melodious noise, it would get clearer and clearer with each step. More enchanting with each note as it went on in its telling.

A hallway here, a hallway there, a corner right and a corner left, another corner and yet another hallway. This journey would carry on through this old maze, build as if to confuse any who did not know the way. Yet the sound was an indicator, as clear as day, on which way to follow.

Slowly parading through these grim and dark halls, the walk never seeming to come to an end, and ever so slow. However, perhaps, such a thing was simply due to the noise carrying one’s thoughts away. Perhaps one’s mind would be enchanted into thinking that time had dragged on forever and ever and ever. While in reality it had been not much more than a mere ten minutes at most, for such a simple building could not have been that hard to manoeuvre through, or could it perhaps?

And there it was, and there it would be, yet another hallway as much the same as the next. However, this hallway was no mere hallway like any of the others, no, no. This hallway had a room, a room with the door slightly ajar. That was no different from any other, what was different was the light coming from said room.

Light streaming from the door, barely open enough to peek inside yet just enough to show the life which was indoors. The light, brighter than any other in the building. The light a strong white with only the smallest hints of yellow, a light that clearly was taken care of. It would peak through the crevice of the door, from under the door and into the hallway. Shining brightly onto the dirtied and old carpet. Shining onto the mirrors and paintings nearby, making all seem only a little bit less dead than the rest of the building.

The door, however, would still seem as old as any. As if when closed attempting to hide the life which was held indoors, paint flaking of it and creaking with the smallest of movements.

However, besides the light shining ever so brightly and ever so lively, the smell was the second indicator. Upon standing close enough, a difference could easily have been noted. Not the same old stale and mouldy scent one would smell in any old house, something one would have grown accustomed to by now, by having spent so long in the building.

No, it would smell far fresher, it would smell like life could truly live there.

And yet the clearest and obvious indicator would have been the sound coming from said room. The noise from before, the one ever so enchanting and ever so alluring, would be as loud and clear as day. Yet remaining soft and calm all the same, remaining the same beautiful noise one could have heard from the top of the stairs.

The sound even more enchanting than before, so close to one’s ears. Yes, this was the source of the graceful melody so unfittingly in this building, yet building character to its old and broken down walls.

The telling of a story perhaps of a prior occurring and perhaps simply created from an old memory, sounding so natural and so well known.

Upon stepping closer and closer to the slightly ajar door, towards the source of the melodious sound. The door would be ever so slowly and ever so carefully pushed open.

The room now in a crystal clear view, the bright lights showing everything that there could be seen. The room so different from every other, the room alive and well unlike anything else in the old and broken down building. Such a perfect hide out it was, such a thoughtful place to stay, unbeknownst to any man passing by. A place not many would think of.

The walls, a dark yet warm colour, wallpaper seemingly new compared to any other of the building. The walls covered with paintings, a few candle lamps here and there more so for décor than anything else. Bookcases aligned neatly next to each other on the right wall of the room, not a piece of wall seen behind the surely endless supply of books.

A few dressers spread throughout the room to protect hidden and unknown items, too keep them away from sight. A seemingly unused couch with a coffee table, a bowl of fresh yet untouched fruit. A book and a, oddly enough, touched tea set.

All having been used yet so clean that one would think not.

A large and dark wooden desk near the ever so tall standing window, the only window with curtains that seemed as new as any, yet still closed to keep away the light of day. The desk was covered, covered with stacks of papers, stacks of books, stacks of files. A quill and a little glass already nearly empty with ink. A quite luxurious looking glass bottle filled only partly with, what only could be assumed to be, whiskey. Several used and empty glasses next to it with only one still filled, the ice in it barely to not at all melted, meaning the occupant made it not too long ago. A small desk lamp, turned on but only so little that it would shine into the glass bottle and nothing more, barely allowing for the light to show upon the papers scattered over the desk.

A large chandelier hung ever so beautifully from the ceiling, as luxurious and as expensive looking as one could be, ever so present and asking all attention of whoever had entered the room. The only clear light source to be found in said room, to be found in this old and rotten building. Illuminating that what was not of importance, such as the furniture, unused yet so clean that one could not find a speck of dust. Such as the paintings and the bookcases decorating the walls, making the room more alive with each and every one. Such as …

Such as the figures scattered over the floor, all lying ever so still, ever so quiet. Unmoving and lifeless, as if they have become one with the room, become one with the furniture and become one with the decoration. Everything seemed to be set in stone as if time stood still, the only indicator being the soft ticking of the clock. The only indicator of time still existing being the puddles of red liquid ever so slowly growing bigger and bigger as the clock ticked on.

The figures, not many and not few, scattered around the room, life drained from them not long ago. Forced to a fate they did not ask, forced to a fate they did not expect. Forced to a fate of early and unnatural death.

Faces hidden behind lose limbs, faces hidden behind a rumpled up carpet and faces hidden behind furniture. Faces that would hold no life, no emotion but a frown or that of the pain and shock they felt in their last moment.

A fate that they had caused themselves.

A large chandelier hung ever so beautifully from the ceiling, as luxurious and as expensive looking as one could be, ever so present and asking all attention of whoever had entered the room. Illuminating that what was not of importance, only highlighting what was of true importance.

A man.

A man would stand in the centre of the room, the light showcasing every detail of him, as if wishing to bring him to life. As if wishing to make him the centre of all attention, highlighting his importance in this lifeless yet beautiful room.

A man, dressed in a perfectly fitted and tailored suit, just made for him and him alone to compliment him in every way that it should. A suit matching in colour to that of the room, to that of the building. In every detail and aspect, from his shoes to his suit, from his tie to his watch, all ever so perfectly fitting into the setting. As if he was a piece of the puzzle, a puzzle that was the building. All so perfectly in sink.

His black hair kept short and pushed back, softly resting onto his cheekbones and waving along with every bit of his movements. His glasses round and silver, sharp yet soft compared to all. Standing out in a way that would not be too much and would not be too little.

All of him fitted ever so perfectly, as if the room was made for his presence.

With his back facing the door, his stance leaning over only the smallest of bits to the side. An instrument carefully placed with the back onto his left shoulder, the neck held with his left hand into place. The bow gently gliding over the strings with his right hand. Eyes closed and face void of emotion as he ever so carefully let the sound flow throughout the room.

Having become one with the song upon the first few notes, having been playing for who knows how long. It could have been centuries for the way he seemed so fully focussed on each and every passing note. As if to make sure not a single mistake would be made. Perhaps, even so into it that he was off of the world, so far into the melodious sound he produced that he would be unaware of anything happening around him.

Yet at the creaking heard from the door opening, something seemingly had changed in the man, his posture changing in the smallest hints yet he had not seemed to stop playing. Far too focussed on finishing the last of the notes he was creating.

And so the sound that had been echoing throughout the house would come to an end as his hand had stopped moving, an eye would be soon be opened, sparing a glance to what had caused his interruption.

As he seemed to notice who had entered, he would carefully put everything away, the violin put back into its case on top of the desk. A gun, now empty of bullets, returned into the back of his belt. A stack of files and papers into his arms as the man fully turned towards his visitors.

Now specks of blood and other blemishes in the suit would be noticed, his hair messed up in a way that would be of quick and fast movement. Looking composed and stiff, adjusting his glasses with his free hand before he spoke in a tone, so bland that it could possibly not have been from the same melodious creator of mere minutes before.

“Ah... It is good that you have finally arrived, it was taking longer than I would have expected from you. Nonetheless, I have the files and information that we have come for, and need to proceed our task. We can leave now for there is nothing left for us here.”

[prisonaesthetic]

It will surely take away your breath.

[ song : among my souvenirs - connie francis ]

[ 07’10’19 ]

‘ 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘳𝘴. ’

𝘛𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 . . . 𝘛𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 . . . 𝘛𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 . . .

The loud thumping on wood, done in a subconscious rhythm, would mostly be ignored in favour for another given task.

Most certainly was he able to hear such an obnoxious sound, so constant and close to his being. He would be deaf were he not to hear such a thing.

It was simply that he rather wished for the noise to be ignored, his paperwork being a higher priority than to pay attention to such an irrelevant thing.

𝘛𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 . . . 𝘛𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 . . .

“P- please, g-get me ou-out already! It has been long enough!”

Ah . . . The desperate pleas of a hopeless victim, drowning out his music. What a bother it was, hm.

With a sigh he would set down his pencil, slowly getting up from behind his desk to walk around and towards the source of the noise.

In a slow strut would he walk towards the rather large and wooden chest carefully placed in the middle of his office.

“Hm, you ought to stay far more quiet than this for me to be able to finish my work in peace. Your rather useless and quite pathetic pleas for help are simply disturbing my thoughts, rather bothersome that is.

And must I remind you of the simple given fact that there is not a single person near, besides me, who can hear your pathetic pleas.

You do ought to realise sooner or later that I will absolutely feel not even the smallest hints of remorse towards you, and therefore, that your chances of survival are simply non existent.”

Gently, as he would move a small stack of papers away and to the side. Having been placed on top of the wooden chest to serve as some kind of coffee table or what not.

With the stack of paper now removed, a small window had been revealed.

Clearly showing the inside of the wooden chest, and in it something could be seen.

The desperate face of a man, his voice muffled as he screamed and pleaded to be released. Fist pounding rapidly onto the wood as he laid trapped inside.

“Oh, and a rather friendly reminder that the more you are screaming, and what not, the sooner you will run out of your already limited supply of oxygen.”

His spoken words would be sure to only increase the panic of the trapped male, causing him to only scream louder and louder. Fist pounding onto the glass ever so loudly. The small window would perhaps have shown signs of cracking were it not to be so thick.

And yet his own face would remain as stoic and calm as ever, the smallest hints of curiosity was all that could be seen. Rather finding joy in the current situation than any form of regret or remorse.

Not even would a bit of pity be shown for the other man, trapped in a wooden chest with a limited supply of oxygen. A limited amount of time left, only so little.

A hand would move from his pocket to wipe some dust away, creating himself a clean spot on top of the wooden chest. Seating himself on top of it, right leg folded over the left and his hands were neatly placed onto his lap.

Opting to stare at a painting on the wall at first, the smallest of smiles shown on his face.

“I find this quite funny, I truly must admit. How it is that your fate has decided to come to an end, and in such a way no less.

It is, quite clearly even, nothing but your own pathetic fault. You have been nothing but rather dumb throughout all of your life, or should I perhaps call it reckless instead, hm?

Always having been so calculated and careful in every move you have and have not done. Doing everything oh so cruelly, and yet I am more than certain that you are wondering what you have ever done to deserve such an end, no? How pathetic and utterly predictable you are.”

Louder thumping is all that would be heard, not faster nor slower. It had changed none as if the trapped man had not heard his words. However, he was aware that he had said man’s attention nonetheless, for he had not been screaming, stopped even, and thus had responded to his words. Simple.

“Oh, what was that, hm? How absolutely expected of you, that was. You are still fully in denial that your end is near, I see. You truly had thought that you would get out of this given situation alive, no?”

The corner of his lip had started to pull up the slightest, now staring down at the rather panicked face displayed in the window.

“Truly, I would have given you the simple advise to ask your partner on what to believe and what not, as you always seemed to do, ever so depending on the words spoken from the person loyally standing next to you, no?

Since you are simply far too full of yourself to see even when it is the time that you have lost, needing for your partner to spell it out for you and yet I refuse to believe you would let even that sink in.

However, even if you would accept those words, it would be rather … useless, would it not? After all. . .”

He was not able to keep the rather thin and wide smile to spread over his face as he would throw a quick glance towards the second figure, which had been trapped in the wooden chest as well, laying ever so motionless. Looking far too amused himself.

“N- NO! NO, NO LET ME OUT LET ME OUT! PLEASE, LET ME OUT—”

The trapped man now choking on his own sobs, panicked and broken breathing as he thumped ever so loudly onto the glass window. Louder and louder as he would desperately scoot away from the second figure. The tears stream downing his face as he lost what little posture he had left.

“Hush hush, now, you will only further disturb the peaceful sleep of your partner. You would not do such a cruel thing, would you now? Besides, it would be a rather good idea to watch your breathing now, for you do not have that long left anymore.”

At only the mentioning of his partner alone, once more the man would attempt to move further and further away even if such an action was rather futile, having already been pressed to the furthest side of the wooden chest. Refusing to even spare a mere glance at the figure laying peacefully next to him.

A figure laid there ever so still, ever so stiff. Any clear feature of the previous face had long gone faded into almost nothing, only small traces of the humanity of said figure.

Two gaping holes ever so empty where the eyes had once been, now staring hollowly at the other man. Lips now gone and out of existence to only show teeth, mouth open in a clear scream of nothing but pure agony. It having been the only sign of said being having once been alive.

Having been able to feel, and perhaps even having been able of feeling too much.

All signs of life have long gone washed away, now coloured nothing but a rotten charcoal black and grey with scattered blotches of fire red. Layers of the previous skin flaking off at the smallest of movement from the wooden chest that they have both been trapped in. Laying ever so still, ever so motionless, next to the other man.

A morbid and cruel reminder of what soon would be his fate as well.

“Oh my, oh my! You do seem to be rather distressed, do you not, hm? Is it perhaps that you are not having such a wonderful time? I most certainly am, I must admit.”

With a short chuckle he would straighten up once more, hands folded on his lap as he softly and every so happily hummed along to the melody of the song. Playing softly in the background, ever so calm and cheerfully sounding. Seemingly distracted from the rather panicked and distressed victim in the wooden chest beneath him. He seemed truly content in this moment.

Right arm lifting slowly, moving his sleeve aside to reveal the golden watch on his wrist. After having noted the time he would put it away once more with a nod to himself, throwing the other man a glance from the corner of his eyes.

“How is it that you are feeling as of this moment, if I may ask? Perhaps it is that your sight is going in and out of focus rather rapidly, perhaps it is that you do feel rather lightheaded, perhaps it is that it feels as if something rather heavy is on your chest, hm?

Do tell me for I am rather curious, I must admit.”

Leaning in closer to take a better look at the other man, trapped inside and looking ever so panicked. Yet he himself would remain composed while doing so, not that there was any reason for him not to.

“Hm, how truly interesting. You do look rather pale, after all.”

Another smile, far too kind and far too warm, spread onto his face once again as he calmly watched the trapped man struggle to breath.

As the man reached for his throat, bloodshot eyes ever so wide and staring up into his own, helplessly and begging for any kind of pity. Breathing would get faster and shorter with the time ticking by, gasping and coughing. Tears falling rapidly as the man glanced at the torched corpse next to him.

Eyes settling once more onto the man smiling down upon him.

“Five.”

Holding up his hand clear in view, he would put a finger down with each count.

“I must be honest and do say that watching this event happening was truly amusing, I hereby thank you for that.”

Four.

“It was quite the pleasure to be allowed to meet both you and your partner.”

Three.

“Your time is up.”

Two.

“Good bye now.”

And one . . .

And with that last second counted, the man would stop moving all together. Watching quietly for a minute or so to take everything in one last time, seemingly to enjoy the sight of the now two motionless figures.

Soon he would move the stack of files back over the little window, to hide everything once more, leaving the wooden coffin to look like a wooden chest once again.

Opting to move off of the wooden chest as he returned to his desk once more, seating himself behind it as he looked over the papers. Taking a small note book from one of the drawers and scribbling something in it.

His free hand would take the phone as he dialled a number, putting it to his ear and waiting for the other line to connect. Acting oh so casually as if nothing had happened prior.

“Hello, it is me who you are speaking with. I am simply calling you to inform you, that I have finished what you have previously requested of me to do. It was quite the delight to do so, I must say so. I do thank you for giving me this opportunity as well.

Nonetheless, as my favour has now been paid off, it is now up to you to fulfil yours, no? I thank you in advance and am most certainly looking forward towards the results.”

As he was ready to hang up on the other, finished with saying the important, he would be quick to remind himself of one more thing.

“Ah and please do send someone to clean up this …

Please, do send someone to clean up, as you always do so.

Till next time then, good bye.”

𝘉𝘦𝘦𝘱 . . . 𝘉𝘦𝘦𝘱 . . . 𝘉𝘦𝘦𝘱 . . .

‘𝘈 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵.

𝘈𝘯𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. ’

[prisonaesthetic]

Franz Liszt – “La campanella” from Grandes études de Paganini S. 141 – Yundi Li

[prisonaesthetic]

A mere warning of sorts. Will you listen?

[ 02’09’19 ]

“All you government people are just the same. No emotions and no care in the world for the actual human population, it’s all just numbers to you, ain’t it!?”

And oh my, oh my, how done he was with this current situation. People ought to control their anger more.

But seeing the other carrying a gun so carelessly, swinging it around to emphasize his words, he himself had to watch out. At least a bit.

…

The loud sound of a gun going off would echo throughout the room. A yelp. And...

A body hit the floor.

A moment of silence before his arm would lift up, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with a sleeve. A quick glance at the, now tainted, fabric. He would grimace at the thought of how that stain would not leave. What a bother it was.

Hm… Oh well.

His steps could be heard quite clearly, the sound of his shoes hitting the cement floor, bouncing around the room. Nearing the fallen figure on the floor, seemingly taking his time doing so. A slower pace yet just right to call it normal. This man was in no rush whatsoever, or so it seemed at least. Who knew what truly went on in his mind?

The crunching of bones was quite clearly heard, were you aware of it happening. Shoe harshly put onto the gun holder’s left hand, pressuring more and more until the hand under his foot would go limp. Eventually the hand would let go of the gun he had been holding before.

Ignoring the pained groaning of the man, opting to rather kick the gun away far from his reach. It slid over the floor until it hit the wall on the other side of the empty and abandoned room, if it could be called a room and not an open space instead.

Glancing down at the feeble figure on the floor, head tilted just enough to spare him half a glance. Not taking the moment to enjoy but rather to pity said figure. To pity his pathetic existence, yet another example of the stupidity that some humans had. Something that would never cease to annoy him.

Crouching down as he kept his gaze strictly on the other and only the other. He would stare for merely a half a minute more at most, not wishing to give the man more than a second of his time and attention yet too drained to rush anything.

How hard was it? He simply came here to exchange the information he had been given. Would be gone before anything could truly happen. Yet some petty person had decided he would take it upon himself to interrupt Ango’s plans. Had decided that he would rather throw his anger for the entire Japanese Ministry towards Ango instead, someone who could and would not take responsibility for everything unfair that has ever been done. However, would that stop the man? But of course not.

He was so far from happy with what information Ango had to bring, even if it was simply for the man his own boss and not the man himself.

Acting as if Ango himself personally had done all of this. He was just playing delivery man today, as he had been told to do. How unfair…

A sudden silence seemed to settle over the room, despite there never having been much noise before either. While Ango did not do more than simply watch the other man, face cold and void of emotion. Not moving a single muscle and solely put his focus on watching the man writhe in pain. Or so it would feel to the both of them at least.

It would have seemed rather eerie and unsettling was it not that Ango meant no harm. Or ... so you would think, no? See, Ango is a loyal government worker. He would not ever dare to break the law … unless for work, but that was not what this was.

“Rather dumb of you.”

Voice steady and controlled. Yet despite all the training he has had on showing nothing but a stoic and professional composure, Ango felt so natural. This was no controlled act, no hidden emotions. This was Sakaguchi Ango being himself, he was not thinking of his composure whatsoever.

Just Ango, being annoyed.

“Rather dumb of you to make such low assumptions about me, sir. I might not be the highest ranking person nor a part of any ‘intimidating’ syndicate. But what is it that makes you think that this situation will end well for you, hm?”

His tone was flat as he spoke, still crouched down next to the other’s body. Own gun dangling from his hand as he spoke, calculated to be in clear sight for the other. As a small warning not to try anything more.

The man, however, would not budge. Seemingly not affected much by the other whatsoever. Rather caring for his torn open knee, blood pouring out and not even recognizable as any part of the human body any longer. His broken hand even, now swollen and starting to change in colour. But the words spoken to him? No, not even a bit.

“You are a nothing, Mister Sakaguchi.”

A tilt of the head and Ango would simply stay quiet and calm.

“Someone like you would be too smart to underestimate me.”

Growing silent once more. Allowing for the other to speak as he wished, curious as to what the man had to say.

“Tell me something then, what will you do to me? Give me a little warning? Maybe even throw me in jail? I know for a fact that you won’t. Your superiors won’t accept such a thing so easily! It would be both against law and job to hurt me, to harm or injure me. To do anything bad against me whatsoever. You had a good point about me not underestimating you, about my intelligence. I can admit that much.

But now here is the funny thing, Mister Sakaguchi. I know the government pretty well, but of course I do! And I also know they have been quite busy over the past few years to keep me safe and out of harm’s way. Hurting me, as you obviously wish to, would be against your little job. You would get in trouble for that, and you know nothing can get you out of that.”

The man seemed ever so confident, grin set on his face the entire time he spoke. So full of the knowledge he had, so certain nothing would happen to him.

“I have to admit; your statement is quite true, nothing you have said just now is a dishonesty. I am not allowed to harm you in any way for you are to be kept safe by the Japanese Ministry, you are in protection by us. It is a given fact.”

A small twitch in his neutral expression would indicate Ango’s amusement before he continued to speak, calmly.

“May I ask, have you noticed how I am currently alone?”

To that question the man could only look confused around the building, seeing that they were indeed alone. Of course they were by themselves when Ango had first entered the building. But seeing that Ango was a government worker, it would have only been expected for him to have back up with him. Which there were no signs of at that moment.

“I have come here alone, I am currently alone and I most definitely will leave alone. I do not have any backup whatsoever to protect me this time around.”

The man could only let out an ugly harsh laugh at Ango’s words. What a ridiculous man this was!

“You are an idiot, what if something or someone were to attack you, huh? No one to protect you now, agent. Look where it got you.”

“Hm... I had simply guessed that nothing was to happen to me today.”

“And you were wrong.”

“I certainly was, Mister Takano!”

The sudden brightness that could be heard in Ango’s voice would throw the man off, confused as to why Ango had seemed so carefree all of a sudden.

Settling back into his composed facade once more, a soft smile on his face. Leaning in to whisper quietly to the man, as if sharing a secret between the two of them. Despite being the only two present in the current building. And quite frankly it was a secret of sorts.

“No one will ever find out what has been done here. I am free to do what I wish for it will remain unknown. Do you realize that?”

The smile soon wiped off his face, now simply void of emotion once again.

Albeit the fear was slowly growing onto the man from the setting they were in, nothing would stop him from clinging onto the knowledge he held. The knowledge of how the government would protect him, this was just a game. A game of showing Ango would not ... not ... not be tossed around? Not be messed with? Something stupid and miserable it would be of course, what else could it possibly be? Ango would not go behind the government’s back for something .. something so petty.

“What are you thinking, Mister Takano? I can already see the gears in your head turning.”

Ango sounded amused, content with how the current event was going. As if he thought things were going his way but what a joke that was! … Right?

Instead the man let out another laugh, showing he would not be afraid. How ridiculous it would be to fear nothing but a simple government worker.

“I am meant to be protected, Mister Sakaguchi. Don’t be an idiot, you know that just as much as I do! They will notice if I am gone, your superiors will know and they won’t be very happy about it. They will suspect something has happened to me. Which only means that things are going against their plans and their desires. You will be fired once they find out what you are doing!”

Without a second of hesitation Ango would answer, his voice calm.

“I will make you cease to exist.”

Words spoken as a matter of fact.

“What!?”

“Simple, I will delete your file. You said it yourself, no? You, and anyone, are nothing but mere numbers to us. So ... if your number were to, let’s say, magically be out of the system ... Who will ever know you are gone then? Who will ever miss you... Who will ever point the finger at me if there is no proof of your existence in the first place? Who will ever know I was here on this day and time, if I change up things a little and say I was somewhere else? There are not any witnesses here besides you and me.”

A small and far too kind smile appeared on Ango’s face, allowing for the other to speak yet the man could do nothing but stutter in surprise.

“You forget the power I hold, Mister Takano..”

The area grew silent once again. Widened eyes would stare up at Ango, blinking and blinking. Looking to find a counter argument yet before the man could open his mouth, Ango rushed in once more.

“We, the Ministry, had you in protection due to several things. The fact you held somewhat of knowledge about us. We had to keep an eye on you and where said knowledge went. Well, that will easily be solved upon your existence to no longer be.”

Counting down the reasons on his fingers as he spoke. Holding five fingers up, making sure the man would see it clearly.  As he told the first reason, Ango moved his pinky finger down.

“We had you in protection to keep an eye on several criminals and criminal syndicates with which you held connections. Yet, none are much of a problem to us any longer for they have seem to left their former ways.”

His ring finger was the second to be put down, the second reason.

“We had you in protection because you are a part of a higher criminal syndicate and any harm done to you would have meant an outrage between rivalling gangs, meaning utter chaos we would have little to no chance controlling off.”

Middle finger now put down as well. His hand had slowly moved to be held against his own temple. The gun in Ango’s own hand would be pressed under the man’s chin, tilting it up the slightest bit to have him stare into Ango’s unwavering eyes.

“There is absolutely no valid reason whatsoever to keep you alive.”

Ango put his thumb down as the last reason, imitating the trigger of a gun going off.

The man looked almost frozen in alarm as Ango’s words slowly settled in. Yet it seemed too unreal to him that this was happening. Desperately clinging onto empty facts.

“I know everything that goes on! I— “

“you know nothing. You are but a mere fool.”

Ango’s voice was ice cold as he interrupted the man’s speech before he could even finish the sentence. He was tired of this; it had dragged on far too long for his liking.

“You would never do such a thing. They will find out!”

The man could only desperately stutter out his words, unable to form a proper sentence at this time.

“Oh but, there you are mistaken, Mister Takano. Your file, or any for that matter, can be quite easily erased without a single soul ever finding out about it.”

Ever so calm as he spoke, Ango treated this as nothing more than some simple business he had to get done.

“You see, I often overwork and therefore have the floor I work on to myself at times. And I am a trusted worker after all, never would I do something that goes against the law or the desires of my boss. Oh no, I am very loyal. So if it happens that I might perhaps overwork tonight I can quite easily access your file and— “

Tilting the other man’s chin higher up with his gun, as to emphasize his next spoken words.

“—delete your entire existence within a few minutes’ time... And no one will ever know.”

Silence would settle again, resting over the room until the other man spoke up. A quiver in his voice as he spoke, fear obvious in his complexion. Yet determined to find a way out, not having accepted his fate.

“They will find my body. You can cover up as much as you want but my body will be proof enough!”

“Ah…”

Ango would grow silent, adjusting his glasses and not saying a word. The man would simply take this for having found a way out. But all that hope simply crumbled away upon Ango’s voice interrupting his thoughts.

“Well, you see... If I do recall correctly, and I do, you had a bomb set up here, no? An acid bomb, if I remember the details. One of your ability users had made those, hm? I will just kindly let that be for you, it would only be rude of me to move your belongings.”

“Upon the bomb going off it will not take long for your body to dissolve, to be completely out of existence with little to no trace. Just like your file soon will be as well. And just like that you have never existed. You will be nothing but few specks of blood the bomb cannot reach.”

His free hand would move into his pocket, wrapping carefully around the small object. Keep his eyes strictly onto the man, not needing to see for what he was looking for. Ango would soon hold up a small remote, waving it next to his own face. Clear for the other to see, to realise that Ango had managed to take the remote from him earlier.

“You truly underestimated me. What a pity that is.”

The body of the man seemed to tense up more than before, filled with anger rather than the denial of before. Seemingly having realised there truly was no way out for him, reasoning with Ango was a lost cause. Ango simply had everything perfectly laid out for him, he would get away with all of this.

But one thing was left unknown for him, something that made no sense to the man.

“Then why kill a man who has no reason to die! From your words I can only indicate you have no reason to protect me or to keep me alive but I failed to see a reason to purposively kill me. Why, then why would you kill me?”

Ango’s next words spoken stone cold with venom dripping from his voice. Leaning in close to look the man clearly in the eyes, his own face void as he spoke.

“You got on my nerves.”

Taking a deep and relaxing breath. Watching the man on the floor one last time, leaving him no space for any last words. No mercy and no pity.

“I would have given you this as a last warning, but as I had said before there is truly no reason for you to stay alive.”

…

The loud sound of a gun going off would echo throughout the room.

Slowly he would get up, dropping his gun to the floor as he stepped over the, now, corpse slowly bleeding out on the floor. Stepping over it as if it was nothing to pay attention to, which it was in a way for him.

Hands wiped off on his suit while exiting the building, it was already stained a condemned to be thrown away anyways...

One hand was pocketed as the other hand held his thumb on the button, ready to release it once he himself was on a safe distance. Mentally planning out for himself what all he had to wipe and cover up, to get away with this.

A long night it would certainly be, but who was Ango tot truly be bothered by that?

[prisonaesthetic]

Living in a memory.

[ song : fly me to the moon - frank sinatra ]

[ 10’08’19 ]

Opening the doors to the, now, beaten down building. He would carefully step inside, taking a moment to adapt to the dim light that shone through the emptied out hallways.

Ah... A favourite.

Record scratch. Rewind… And—

“Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.”

The soft music echoed throughout the empty halls, it could be heard wherever you were in the building. Surrounded by the noise and noise alone, drowning out anything else that could have otherwise caught your attention.

Soft ticking of shoes could be heard as well, bouncing around the dark and broken walls.

Stopping to look into the empty rooms, looking through papers, files and books. As if he was looking for a price, so important.

Not stopping until what needed was found, determined to reach the goal.

“Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore.”

Soft singing would fill the halls, voice deep and melodic. Mostly away in thought instead of having a full focus on the song or his surroundings for that matter. Calmly drifted into his own world with not a single thought on his mind.

“Quite a good taste they had for such an abomination of a syndicate, a criminal one at that, would you not agree? Good thing they have… Let us say, there will no longer be disappointment found in this building soon after. Organized crime has slowly started to become nothing more than a joke with all the good for nothing fools running around these days.”

Stepping over one of the many bled out and rotting corpses as if it were a mere nothing, nothing more than a fold in the carpet it was to him. Something to step over to not trip yet nothing that could ask for his attention. With hands in his pockets and simply walking through the long hallways, humming along to the melody as he did.

“Truly, the Young Master outdid himself this time! As is to be expected of him, no? After all the Young Master is the only person who could pull of such a flawless plan, the reason the Yakuza will rise back to the top once more.”

And so he would keep walking and searching for anything of use, softly singing along to the songs played through the speakers. Feeling as if he were walking on clouds, a moment so peaceful and simply perfect to a man such as him.

This was by far and most certainly one of his most favourite parts, the part of this current job of his that was only trusted upon him. In all reality he knew this was simply because he was a pawn, easy to replace and hard to be missed. It was a simple given fact he had always known, subconsciously. But he would simply go with a little lie to himself to better his self-worth, that only he of all people could perform the actions of finding the unknown secrets after another raid out performed by the yakuza.

To find everything that was needed and even more than just that! Because only he would be able to do so, possessing over such prodigious skills as a former con artist and quite an intelligent man, if he may say so himself. After all he was Nemoto Shin of all people.

These tasks had always reminded him of his former job, the ones where he could simply wander around in merely his suit. Where he was the only one and the complete and utter center of attention. Times when he felt atop of the world for simply doing what he was good at, doing what only he could do best.

Times when he was… perhaps more successful, or was that a selfish thought?

“Oh my, oh my! What do we have stumbled upon? Something of value may it be?”

Opening, yet again, drawer after drawer, file after file… Box after box...

To raid out a whole building merely on useful information and to kindly take it with him was quite some work, not something he did as often. Yet… he was smart, he knew where to be and what to get. Knew what was of value and what was a trick for attention.

And sometimes…

Sometimes he would allow himself to absorb into the moment, knowing how ‘fast’ he could be done yet desiring to take more time than was truly needed. The desire to dwell in the past, the few moments he would realize what might have been a better way for him.

Only sometimes he would allow to relive the freedom he had denied he had lost. To experience the yearning for things that will never be.

Record scratch. Rewind… And-

“Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.”

A smile soon stretched onto his face once again as he simply walked through the empty halls.

A skip in his step and eyes closed, hands pocketed.

In a bliss he was.

“Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore.”

Singing along at the top of his lungs, no one to hear no one to see.

Happiness is what he felt in these moments.

[prisonaesthetic]

Red wine, Red tears.

[ song : connie francis - i’m sorry i made you cry ]

[ 21’06’19 ]

The walls a dark yet vibrant and lively red colour, the decor made of dark wood and dark metals. Warm and dark colours everywhere you looked. All that was light was the almost white floor, a cool and cold laminate. Yet mostly covered with a, yet again, dark and vibrant red carpet.

It was a homey and comfortable room. Soft music would echo through the space.

A dream is what it could easily be.

On one of the plush leather armchairs sat a man. Said man dressed in a navy blue suit with golden and black details and a black pair dress shoes. Blond hair neatly parted and a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

A glass of red wine in one hand, taking small sips as he hummed along to the song.

He was in a bliss, enjoying the peaceful moment of his day… Or so it seemed.

‘ I’m sorry, dear, so sorry, dear. ’

“I’m sorry I made you cry.” He sang along quietly.

“Quite funny, is it not? How the song is so suiting to your current situation?”

A soft laugh as he took another sip, closing his eyes. Speaking to the air.

"It could all have been prevented quite easily… However, it was you who had oh so foolishly decided to put up a fight. The only person here who is at blame of your suffering… is yourself. Quite pathetic, would you not agree?”

Voice low and monotone, calm and controlled. This was a man of power, or so he spoke. He was a talker is what was certain.

Either loving to hear himself speak or loving the reactions he could get. Knowing exactly what to say to get a certain response. Whether it be physical or psychological… He knew exactly what to do.

“If you simply had gone along and not put up such a resistance… it would have all gone less dreadful for you. How pitiful… Truly a shame. However, what else could have been expected from such a pitiful individual such as yourself, no? All your life you have been wasting yourself. Yet could it be considered wasting if you yourself are simply a waste of space and time. No worth or meaning in life… Simply a parasite here, waiting to be extinct.”

Another sip of his wine, some more silence and then he would continue. Speech so fluent it could have been scripted… or simply from someone who knows his words quite well.

“Yet… somehow… somehow oh so magically someone saw something in you. Something special enough to keep you around, to not let you rot in the dirt.

To make you a part of something and give you worth. Quite a mystery that is. No matter how I look or think… There is simply nothing. No reason whatsoever.”

And he would let out a deep sigh.

“But now there is the funny thing… I know exactly what it was to keep you around for. You were just a tool to pass information.”

An eye would open and look at the pitiful figure on the floor.

A hand would be placed on the armrest.

A finger, dripping in blood, would tap along with the rhythm of the song.

“Do you not see it as clear as day?”

The question echoed through the room.

“Y… Yes..”

The voice was soft and quiet, shivering and choked. The sound of a pained being.

The figure on the floor attempting to flee, crawling and squirming onto the flooring. Almost white now painted a brilliant red, seemingly matching the walls.

“See? It is not that hard to answer my questions, is it now? It all goes so easily; you do not even have to do a thing. Wonderful, is it not?”

An ugly wide smile was spread on the man’s face as he watched his victim seeking for the source of the noise. Almost enjoying to watch the helpless being.

“All you have to do is keep your pretty little self still and silent and simply await my questions. You will answer them truthfully and automatically by force. Even struggling will not help you… it will simply worsen your situation as you have been shown… quite clearly.”

As the man stood up he started walking through the room, the soft ticking of his shoes was the only noise for a short time. Not even sparing the figure a glance, after all it was not worth his time.

“If you do, after all, struggle only pain will ensue. But after that everything will go easily once again. As it should!”

As he spoke his voice would rise, showing obvious pride in his words and actions. This man was truly full of himself, perhaps rightfully so and perhaps wrongfully so.

Who could be the judge of that?

“So as I have told you earlier in our meeting, interrogation might perhaps be my strong suit however it is not necessarily my most desired thing to do. I do prefer not to waste my time with meaningless and worthless scum such as you, let alone to share a space with you for longer than is necessary.

However, let us get started once again, no? Since now you have no way to block my… questions, hm?”

As he spoke he would approach the figure, crouching down in front of it. A hand would cup the figure’s cheek to uplift its face as he would watch. As he would take in the sight,

a thumb would softly caress the victim’s cheek as the man could only smile.

“Oh my oh my… what a shame it is…”

Smearing some of the vibrant red liquid over the victim’s cheeks.

“If you so foolishly attempt to block my quirk with yours… I will simply have to take it from you, no? As much as I despise my own… I will never tolerate for a parasite like you to think they are above me.”

He would take a last glance at the victim’s now hollow and empty eye sockets, blood oozing from them. A handkerchief would be taken from his pocket as he wiped the other person’s blood off of his thumbs, having been mostly dried from before.

“Now… let us continue our conversation.” A smile set on his face as he returned to the chair.

“And please do behave this time around, it would be a shame to take even more.”

[prisonaesthetic]

A Family Recipe, won’t you try?

[ song : connie francis - my happiness ]

[ 04’06’19 ]

A soft humming could be heard throughout the room, echoing around the open and almost empty space.

Music softly played on a somewhat older radio, placed on top of the desk filled with tools. The song cheerful and calm, something to swing a long with.

‘ Whether skies are grey or blue.

Any place on earth will do.

Just as long as I’m with you, my happiness. ’

The room a soft mint green with a beige tiled floor, the vibrant white light only adding to the cold atmosphere. The light flickering on and off from time to time, quite annoying honestly. With no windows in sight yet a cold breeze seemed to ever presently rest in the room.

Only few things were placed in the room, only few things were needed in the room. An iron table in the middle with a small closet or two and a desk, one chair on wheels and a sink in the corner. A broken and dirtied mirror hung above the sink.

Not the most ideal room or place to be in… However, it was needed. This room was needed; this space was needed. It was the best he could get. Such a room was not everywhere to be found. To be able to be used in private and not to be tracked down.

The disinfectant odour almost sickeningly strong, dizzying even. Filling the entire room, no escaping the smell. Even with the mask covering his nose and mouth… it was ever so strong.

Chop … Chop … Chop …

With a freshly sharpened cleaver knife in hand he chopped away all that was unneeded. Big pieces gently shoved away on the sterile table. Two piles he had made, needed and unneeded.

As his foot tapped along to the rhythm of the song he had cut off yet another piece, quite some effort it took. It would be… worth it, he supposed. Doing it for a good cause.

He owed a favour to someone who did him a favour some time ago. It is how business goes. You do work for others and they do work for you. Simple as it is.

Some people did not enjoy this… certain type of work… He, on the other hand, did not mind much. Not a favourite of course… but it could always be worse, no?

That and it was always a smart thing not to owe others favours for too long, knowing how those can be used… Knowing how he would have used those.

A rather smart idea to get rid of those favours quite fast, if he had any say over it. Which… he did, he always did. Getting what he wants, when he wants.

However, no need to ponder over such meaningless things. After all he had quite some work left to do, wishing to finish it sooner than later.

And so back to work he went, most had already been done.

The hardest part had been finished… All that was unneeded out of the way. Now a free space to take what was important… what was of value.

And so he put down the cleaver knife, carefully placed on top of the metal tray which held all the needed tools and more. Now covered in a vibrant red liquid.

Drop … Drop … Drop …

Dripping onto the tray… Dripping onto the desk… Dripping onto the floor.

How filthy it was yet… was it truly?

With a scalpel gently held in a gloved hand he would return to his work once again. Gliding through the surface with easy movement, no effort having been put into it whatsoever. As if cutting into butter it seemed.

Quiet humming could be heard once again, if noticed well enough even swaying along. Seemingly unbothered by the… less pleasant scene in front of him.

Was it experience… Was he simply not fazed by such things… A mystery it would remain…

Or perhaps?…

Peeling away what was in the way, cutting off what was not of use…

Digging and cutting his way to get to the prized possession, that what was needed… That what was desired. That what was asked.

And so he peacefully continued his work, unbothered and calm.

Absent from the world around him as he hummed and sang along.

‘ A million years it seems.

Have gone by since we shared our dreams.

But I'll hold you again

There'll be no blue memories then. ’

With a snap he would ever so carefully cut off the thread, being sure the puzzle was back and secure in its place.

With a clink he would drop the last used tools onto the metal tray.

With a sigh he would take a step back, allowing himself a moment to admire his work. To take in what he had done, what he had spent much time on…

And he was proud, oh so proud he was.

Hand reaching up to tug down the mask, now carefully resting on his chin. Eyes roaming over everything as he allowed himself to walk around the table.

Mentally going over the checklist, have all desires been fulfilled? Has he done his job as was expected of him?

Has he paid off his favour?

Slowly peeling off the gloves, dropping them to the ground.

Taking off the mask, dropping it to the ground.

Taking off the once white coat he had been wearing, dropping it to the ground.

A small smile on his face as he corrected his suit jacket. Adjusting his glasses to take one last glance before leaving the room.

Yes, he had done as was asked of him.

The rest was for someone else to clean.

˚ —✞—˚

The room a cream white with a dark brown wooden floor, the soft light only adding to the warm and homey atmosphere.

Windows opened to let in the outside air, allowing the room to smell fresh and clean.

With a wooden kitchen table in the middle, ingredients carefully placed on top. A somewhat older radio was placed on top of said kitchen table as well, playing a song so cheerful and calm it was something to swing along with.

‘ Whether skies are grey or blue.

Any place on earth will do.

Just as long as I'm with you, my happiness. ’

As he softly sang along to the song, tapping his foot to the rhythm. He felt relaxed and at peace, as it should be. The stress from the day rolling off his shoulders as the smell od freshly cooked food spread through the room.

A recipe taped to the fridge, following each step carefully for the best result.

Pressing away the memories from earlier. His job was done there and his favour would be paid off… and if he played smart enough he could… gain a new favour. But that was something to think of for another day.

‘ A million years it seems.

Have gone by since we shared our dreams.

But I'll you again.

There'll be no blue memories then. ’

˚ —✞—˚

On a Sunday evening at 7 PM there was a knock on Nakamura Kiyomasu’s door. The boss of a small criminal organisation in Japan, small enough to often stay hidden under the radar yet… big enough to have its enemies.

On the Young Boss’ doorstep he found a container, one filled with food looking so delicious it could only be one thing. Upon opening the container, the smell confirmed it.

A small note was taped to the container in a handwriting only one person in the world could write in.

‘ As your father always used to eat after a week of hard work. For the new boss, enjoy it. ’

The Nakamura family recipe. A dish prepared so luxuriously it could take up to a whole day to prepare. From exotic fruits to the heart and lungs of a male deer, everything was made to pure perfection.

And so, without a doubt, the young boss enjoyed his freshly made dinner. Because only his father would do something so thoughtful.

˚ —✞—˚

BREAKING NEWS

The body of 58 year old Nakamura Kiyonaga has been found. The man was know as the former boss of the criminal organization, the Black Orchid. Recently taken over by his son.

The body has been found in an abandoned building near the east coast. Said building was a former asylum for the criminal insane and more.

The body had been chopped to pieces and sew back so messily it could only have been done on purpose. Reporters say this might be as a revenge on the family’s tradition to mutilate their own victims.

Besides that, the body seems completely intact apart from the lungs and heart which seem to have been taken for unknown reasons. No evidence has been found to point us to the murderer... or murderers?

Nakamura Kiyonaga’s son has been approached but refused to give a statement on his father’s unfortunate fate. Even looking green in thw face after the mention of his father.

[prisonaesthetic]

A Lonely Curse

In a quirk filled world you would only think humanity had progressed immensely. After all everyone had an advantage in life, their own personal power. Right?

However it did not. A life of crime had spread little by little. Growing from small meaningless crimes to threatening innocent lives for world domination.

But luckily, or one would think so, the heroes had arrived. Humans who took it to themselves to use their personal powers for good. To take down every evildoer and make the world a safe place once again.

People viewed the world as it was, with their powers, a special gift. Whether it were the villains, the heroes or even simply the innocent civilians, they all agreed.

Who wouldn’t feel blessed with their own power?

Well.. he did. He felt cursed.

He didn’t have a mutation which caused odd glances, he didn’t have anything that made people look in fear at him and whisper behind his back nor anything that made people plan out his heroic future.. No, none of that and non of what you think.

But what he had… it caused him to lose people.. caused him to lose.. well.. hope.

When it first had manifested he was.. confused. It was not that he necessarily hated it but neither did he like it. He simply didn’t have much of an opinion.

HIs mother told him it would be of use in the oddest situations. Told him that he was blessed with something so beautiful, so special, so unique. And completely his own.

“What you have is special and beautiful. It is yours and only yours. A real blessing!” She would have smiled, twinkles sparkling in her eyes. “Shin, you have something wonderful. Keep it close and make yourself proud of who you are.” And for those moments he would believe her. But..

He didn’t feel like that however. Not even in the slightest bit.

It took him years of quirk training and doctor visits to find out he didn’t have an off switch on his quirk. Unlike most psychological quirks he could not control it, could not turn it off. There was no way around it, simple as that.

But that was okay! He would just.. change his entire way of speaking, that’s okay! Right?… Just.. no questions anymore. He would talk in statements. It would totally be fine! Yes! … Right? It would be fine, right?

Not being able to ask questions was quite a difficult thing.. It took him a lot of time before he got it. But even then he managed to slip up and pull out the truth without meaning to. Or he would put his sentences so weirdly people laughed at him. But that was okay.. He could deal with that. His family and friends didn’t care. He always had the people he cared about there to support him. They would not leave him.

But the older he got the more he started realising things. Not only could he pull out the honest truth with a mere question.. He could feel it when someone was lying, not speaking the honest truth. He could eventually sense someone’s honest feelings, thoughts etc. He had subconsciously studied people’s behaviour enough to WWknow.

It got him confused why people, friends.. loved ones… WWfamily, still lied to him.

So he confronted them about it. Just asking why they were lying. After all he was always honest.. he hated lies more than anything. But others didn’t seem to agree with him on that. They would get shocked and offended when he plain out asked them.

They would get mad, yell at him for ‘intruding their privacy’ for prying into their minds without having been allowed. They would turn away in disgust.. distrust. Thinking he was doing such things on purpose.

But he didn’t.. He never intended to hurt anyone. He just wanted to know why.. why people always had to lie to him about the most useless things. He didn’t mean to hurt others ever.. but somehow he still did. And with that came the hurt they gave him.

He hated his quirk. It was a curse.

It had costed him his friends.. his family.. his loved ones.. everyone, everyone he held dear slowly distanced himself. All because of that curse.

As much as he would have wanted to cut the few ties he had remaining, he could not… Holding desperately onto them he watched them slowly fade.

People had left him. People he thought he could have trusted with all of his heart and soul.

And so he had learned: love and trust only brings pain.

Later he would find a likeable profession, one in which only he would be as good in. He would become a con artist. He knew how to lie, knew exactly what people wanted. Able to pull out the truth from others, able to psychologically manipulate.. This job was made for him.

And yet it brought nothing. All the hurt was still there deep inside.

Later he would be approached by a man.

He would get a new profession, working for said man.

The man had different morals, yet… it did not matter. The man had told him about how quirks are illnesses.. curses. The man said he would make a cure and needed his help specifically.

And all he could sense was honesty. And oh how he so desperately needed the validation. To feel wanted and needed, like he had a value in life.

After being traumatised to hell and back.. he lost trust, lost his own self value. But this man had brought it back in his own twisted unhealthy way.

He didn’t care, he wanted to be useful… He wanted to make an end to quirks no matter what.

He had lost to it. Lost his loved ones, lost his trust and hope.. His happiness, his believe his own self value.

It was a curse, a lonely curse.

Nemoto was cursed.

[prisonaesthetic]

think of one dramatic event from your life and write the event backwards [w/ emmett]

Black nothing. It all snapped to black emptiness, it was over. The fearful look on Asher’s face was the last thing he registered. The agonising pain of being ripped apart piece to piece was the only thing he could focus on. His screams long ago faded to nothing, his throat no longer being able to produce any noise. Blood was everywhere, the smell of raw and burnt meat. A sizzling noise registered in his ears above the screeching, it must have been the acid. He could only scream, fighting back was no longer useful he knew that. He didn’t know how this happened, it went so fast his brain had no time to process it. All he remembered was Asher’s scream and then t̴h̷e̵ c̵̹͓͂r̷͈̚é̸̪̭̽̕ͅa̵̮̘̝͐͜ṱ̷͙̯͆̀̏̀ͅú̵̧̝͙͆̅͜r̵̢͔̪̖͗͊e̷͚̒ṡ̵ c̶̛̳̟͚͂͋̈́̐?¶‽¿#✕‽?

Turning Point

Soft whistling was the only sound as he walked away, the rest watching in stunned silence. “You don’t even know.” he hummed and winked. “YOU FUCKING FREAK” someone yelled. Emmett could only grin at the expression on Andrew’s face.

Before he turned around to walk away he spat in the boy his face and cackled. Serves him right. As he stood up and corrected his clothes he gave a harsh kick to Andrew’s side, making the boy curl up and groan in pain. “I’ll fucking murder you and make sure they never find your body.” he whispered in Andrew’s ear, pushing his knee harder on his chest making a wheeze come form the boy under him. “If you ever dare to pull that shit again.” he gritted his teeth as he pushed his knee harshly on Andrew’s chest. Putting pressure on the most likely bruised ribs and blocking his airway with some luck.

“Pathetic” he whispered while squatting down too look at the bloodied boy slowly regaining consciousness. “Go away!” some girl, Emma probably, screeched when she saw Emmett approach however he ignored her. A manic grin plastered on his face.

The only sound in the quiet room was the soft dripping of blood onto the ground. If he focussed he could feel the stinging pain from his knuckles. Now? It was just a dull ache as he only registered the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the movement from his heaving chest. He was out of breath.. or was it panic building up? He didn’t know, he quite frankly didn’t even care.

Looking down he saw the unconscious boy, Andrew Harrison, with his face all bloodied. He felt a tug at the corner of his lips, grinning in triumph.

However what he felt strongest was the disgust swirling in his stomach, he pushed it down further and further away so he couldn’t feel it. He deserved it, Emmett. You did the right thing. You know you had to do this eventually. Now they will stop. You proved them who you are.

He didn’t stop, never even wanted to. Throwing punch after punch, kick after kick. One to the stomach, one to the nose, another one to the stomach and go on like that, he lost himself in the fight. His knuckles were already bloody and bruised, probably a broken nose and a split lip too. The cheers for Andrew only drove him further and further, even hearing some nasty words thrown at him in between. I’ll teach them a lesson. Fucking worthless assholes.

The hot boiling rage took him over and he happily let it. Finally. He wanted to so badly, to just punch him in the face. He was sick of it, all of it. Just thinking about it made him angrier and angrier each second. Others had no right to treat him like he was nothing than a mere puppet you can throw around for their own disgusting fun. The endless beatings, following him around, mocking his features, his name, his culture, even giving him enough death threats to last a life time, throwing racial slurs and other disgusting things at him. Day in day out. Teachers did nothing, others did nothing. Nobody ever fucking helped. His parents had no chance to do something, not as if he would ever tell them anyways. The never ending fear of getting killed this time for real was ever present. But rage took him over. Red was all he saw.

“Oh yeah and what are you gonna do about it, Ching Chong?” Andrew snarled, grinning crookedly and looking down on Emmett. “Fuck. Off.” Emmett snarled. Why should he give a care about this? Why? The world is fucking collapsing for fucks sake! Everyone knows it’s coming.. preparing for the fall of society as they know it and what not. There are going to be changes, negative changes and everyone knows minorities will be the first targets. Emmett has nothing on his education when it becomes a fight to survive, he has nothing on letting others beat him down when all that matters is surviving. So why, why in the fuck should he care about not making it worse for himself. Nobody ever cared and they sure aren’t going to start anytime soon either. If he wants to make it, and he sure does, he has to prove it. Make a name for himself, show others what he can do. The thought occurred to him when he stared at Andrew’s disgusting smirk while he pinned Emmett to the wall.

He got hoisted up and slammed against the wall after falling to the ground. He heard the crack of his nose after the punch, wincing in pain. “Why are you showing your ugly face here? Didn’t we tell you to beat it, dog munching fag.” Andrew snarled. Emmett wiped the spit away from his face and looked up, glaring at the boy who pushed him harshly. “Hey! Split eyes!” someone yelled at him and before he knew it he felt someone’s spit on his face. How disgusting. But of-fucking-course.

Quietly he walked through the noisy hallway, trying to not attract any attention of his usual bullies. Or anyone really for that matter. Hatred was all he felt. Hatred for the racist assholes who ruled his school, hatred for the teacher who never did anything about it, hatred for anyone who ignored it or joined in. Don’t get him wrong he isn’t the only victim here. He was just one of the many… unfortunately. Just his luck that his school was basically overruled by a bunch or fucking racists and homophobes. Pretending to be invincible and weak was one of the worst parts, letting it all just happen to him. Knowing this was the only way, or well that is what they told him. He had enough in him to throw a good punch back and what not. It would just backfire at him. They would consider him out of control, mental, crazy, rabid. All for fucking self defence. He started walking and took a deep breath, making sure to sneak past them. “For fucks sake.

Just his luck. The only way out of this hellhole of a school and the whole hallway was packed with rowdy kids. Frowning at the commotion. The day was already unbearably long as it dragged on and seemed to never end. Just drop his schoolbooks in his locker real quick, ignore the hate letters and throw them in the trash and take the long dreaded walk home. That was the plan, yep.

"Well fuck..” he sighed. A sudden loud noise made him snap his head up from his locker.

[prisonaesthetic]

finis

He heard the door open but paid no mind to it, already recognising the familiar footsteps before the door had even been opened. Keeping all his attention on the papers scattered messily across his desk, his brows set in a deep frown. “Take your time.” came the hushed whisper from the other male, slowly stripping off his clothes and getting in bed. He could hear a faint yawn and the moving of sheets. His only reply was a short nod and a soft hum, too focussed on his work.

“When I told you to take you time I didn’t think it would be this long. I can go back if it isn’t the right time.” the voice came from his bed after about an hour, sounding genuine. He swallowed back the soft chuckle that was threatening to escape and replaced it with a deep sigh instead. Putting the papers back in the drawers where they came from and locking them. Looking back at the man in his bed, he got up and moved closer to while stripping off his clothes as well. “Impatient, Asher.” he muttered and crawled on top of the other male, immediately attacking his neck.

“Finis.” he whispered softly. Which caused the other male to look up confused. “What?” he frowned in confusion, no longer focussed on the rare affection Emmett was showing by accident. “Didn’t your parents force you to learn Latin as well?” he raised an eyebrow. “You know I didn’t understand a thing.” Asher sighed and held back the urge to play with the long and soft-looking strands of pitch black hair. “Finis. Ending. An end or final part of something.” Emmett said before going back to his previous actions. “Should I be worried about you saying that out of nowhere?” Asher asked, confusion and worry only growing more and more. Emmett looked up and into Asher’s eyes, simply shrugging his shoulders. “Should you?” he asked and waited for a reply that never came.

He leaned forward and captured Ashers’ lips, kissing him as if it would be the ending of the world and this was his last chance.

And in a way it probably was.

[prisonaesthetic]

comfort

Breathing hard and sweating all over, he rolled off the person below him and onto his back. “Fuck..” he muttered and dragged a hand over his face in attempt to wipe away the sweat. Reaching his right hand out to search for anything to tie his hair with, still trying to catch his breath. “Fuck..” he muttered again, this time a bit softer. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Normally he would have already gotten dressed and left, pretending nothing had happened just a few minutes ago. Or, on rare occasions, told the person to leave his room. He really did not like people coming into his room at all, for so many different reasons. But let’s just say it’s because he likes his privacy.

He did not care about friendships, feelings, relationships, love and you can go on forever. All those things did not matter to him, not in this world. Yes, sure, maybe if the world wasn’t so fucked up he would have cared. And yes, of course, he does know many others do care. But he? No, he did not. in this world you make sure you survive, every day is a matter of life or death. Especially with a dangerous job like his, he needs to have his priorities. His were just surviving, being close to people would only make that harder. He had proven his point quite a few times already.

He can remember it clearly when he pushed his friend, Alex Jackson, into the hands of those horrible creatures. He could clearly remember Nina’s paralysed limp body being carried away after he made sure the creature saw her first. Hell, he even murdered his own brother for his own safety. He was sure that without a doubt he would have done that to anyone he used to care about. He so clearly remembers all the screams of his loved ones dying, all because of him. And looking back at it, he did not care. He was alive and that is all that matters. He may be cold hearted but at least he was alive and healthy. He had zero regrets.

He sat up slowly and rubbed his face again, sighing deeply. Why did he keep thinking about that almost every time? He shook his head and pushed those thoughts away. Instead he looked down to the other side of the bed, trying to keep in the soft smile that was threatening to spill.

The boy next to him had his head propped up on the pillow, just staring at him in silence. Asher was his name, Asher Langley. His green eyes where barely staying open, he was sure Asher was hiding a smile behind the pillow. “You look dumb.” he told him and only got a snort in response.

Yes he fucked around. Whoever was attractive enough and wanted him back, gender did not matter to him. He never learned their names or even recognised their faces the next day. It simply didn’t matter, he just wanted some temporary fun without anything more.

But somehow… he always returned to Asher, probably just because he was great in bed. But he knew better, Asher was his best worker. He had a high function and did it great, wonderful even. He didn’t want to say he was close to Asher or even considered him a friend.. but Asher was his favourite person in this hell hole. He could tolerate Asher, he was an okay guy. Especially compared to most of the men, women and in between.

Suddenly a voice pulled him out of his thoughts, forcing him to look back at the man beside him. “What are you thinking about this time?” he said, voice heavy with sleepiness, obviously trying to fight it.

“None of your business.” he snapped at him, acting like he always did. Asher was used to it, knowing how he acted in front of others. He just chuckled and moved to sit up. “I’ll be leaving then.. I’ll stop by tomorrow if I have time again.” he winked. He just looked quietly at Asher, not wanting him to actually leave but also not wanting to admit it. His thoughts started to drift back again, he knew tonight would be one of those hard nights. He pushed it away, pretending he wouldn’t care anyway. He would just work all night long, study those monsters again.

“Whatever.” he shrugged his shoulders and laid down in bed again, knowing exactly that Asher would pick up on him sooner or later. And so he did, Asher laid back down again. “I think I’m staying.” he said and turned to look at him. “Whatever.” he said once again and turned around, turning his back to Asher.

It was silent for a bit before Asher wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him close against him. “You know it’s not your fault, right? You acted on instinct and survival. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be here right now.” Asher said and kissed his shoulder softly, nuzzling his neck. His answer was a groan and pretending he didn’t like what Asher was currently doing. Asher just chuckled and left one last kiss on his neck. “I’m serious… it’s not your fault. You know I’m here for you.. And support everything you have done and will do.” Asher said. He sighed and tried to act annoyed with what he said. “Just go sleep already. You’re being annoying.” he said, refusing to let his walls down for Asher.

Even though he knew how screwed he was. How he might think Asher is his best friend. How he might secretly have ‘more than friends’ feelings for said best friend. How much he truly cared about Asher and how much his words and little actions of affection did help him.

Yet he just groaned and shifted slightly, making sure he was still in Asher’s arms. He closed his eyes without saying anything and tried to fall asleep, hoping the nightmares wouldn’t bother him this time. Though he knew they would, they almost always do. He sighed once again before letting sleep take him over. Asher pulled him just a bit closer. Asher let himself fall asleep, as well. But before he did he whispered softly to the man in his arms.

“Goodnight, Emmett.”