#i mean what's kinda good is my italian peer seems to remember things i do not lmao so together we did gist interpretation fine haha

[helianskies]

oh my god interpreting is stressful what have i done to myself

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #856: The End of Summer (Persona 5)

6:23 p.m. at the Smash Beach.........

Lavenza: (Takes a Deep Breath While Watching the Sunset) Such a beautiful sight to behold.....

??????: Enjoying the view of sunset there, Lavenza?

Lavenza: (Happily Nodded at Morgana Who is Sitting Down Next to Her) I'm most certainly am. It always amazes me how it managed to show off it's color and vibrance very well in a place like this.

Morgana: (Smiles Brightly) Well, that's the beach for ya. They always have the best viewings in certain hours. But between this and the moonlight we saw in the beach in Isle Defino, which one would you say is your favorite?

Lavenza: Hmmm......That does seem like a tough choice to choose from....But if I must, I would say....the Moonlight is my favorite. I still adored how breathtaking it looked at the time. What do you choose?

Morgana: The sunset. It makes me feel more realized and fuzzy inside every time I see them in general.

Lavenza: (Simply Nodded) Understandable reasoning. Speaking of which, what makes you want to be human again today? Is it for a special occasion?

Morgana: (Smiles Sheepishly While Rubbing Back of his Head Back and Forth) N-Not really. I just....felt like being one today, you know? It's not a strong enough reason, but....(Shrugs) It's whatever.

Lavenza: I see. (Smiles Softly) Well, regardless, I still believe that you look as handsome as ever~

Morgana: (Immediately Starts Blushing) T-Thanks. You look beautiful- (Eyes Begins Widened and Blush Turning Bright Red Once He Realized What He is Saying) Pretty!- I-I-I mean WELL DRESSED!...Yeah. You look well dressed I think you're always well dressed.

Lavenza: (Giggles Softly) Oh Mona-Chan~ If there's one thing that never fails to put a smile on my face, it would be your sweet and adorable nature~

Morgana: ('Sigh') Thanks, Lavenza. (Starts Rolling his Eyes) Still not sure if I should be in the cute category though.....

Lavenza: Perhaps. But I know a few of our lovely peers that would happily say otherwise.

Morgana: ('Sighs in Defeat') I know.... But cuteness aside, it is kinda of shame that summer is coming to close in a few days.

Lavenza: Yes. But, in the words of the late Geoffrey Chaucer, "All things must come to an end eventually". And the seasons themselves are no different towards that knowledge.

Morgana: True. But....at least we had fun along the way, right?

Lavenza: (Smiles Brightly) Oh absolutely. I will never forget the memories- ('Yawn') We've shared together.....

Morgana: (Turns to Lavenza) You're doing okay there, Lavenza?

Lavenza: (Simply Nodded) I am. I was admiring how lovely the sunset looks that it might have put me into a drowsy state. But just in case.... (Yawns While Slowly Placing Her Head Onto Morgana's Shoulder) Do you mind if I rest my head upon your shoulder for the time being?

Morgana: (Starts Blushing Again Once He Felt Lavenza's Head on his Shoulder) Oh! U-Uhh...Sure. No problem.

Lavenza: (Smiles Softly) Thank you....Once again, your kindness shows no bounds.

Morgana: (Chuckles Lightly) Ah. It's no big no deal. I'm just glad to help you out, you know?..... Actually....(Looks Back at the Sunset) I'm glad for a lot of things really. Having friends, family, tuna in some occasions...But the one of things I'm thankful for the most.....you know, besides being alive and stuff, is.... (Turns to Lavenza with a Sincere Smile) having the chance to meet an amazing girl like you, Laven-za?

Lavenza: (Already Fallen Asleep on Morgana's Shoulder) Zzzzzzzzzzz........

Morgana: Huh. She's already asleep. Can't blame her though. (Turns Back to the Sunset) The sunset can be relaxing view. ('Yawn') Whenever it wants to be....

A Few Minutes Later......

Futuba: (Walking Alongside With Ren) Trust me, Ren. Once I do my research before our movie night, I'll finally be prove to you guys once and for all, that the Candyman is a- ('GASPS') Ren, LOOK!~

Ren: (Smiles Softly as He Sees Morgana and Lavenza Sleeping With One Another) Ah. There's the little rascals. Already tuckered out and everything.

Futuba: I know, right?~ They look so cute sleeping together like that~ I bet the sunset made them sleepy.

Ren: Oh it was definitely the sunset. Remember looking at it once. I was knocked out sleep on the sand for like twenty and a half minutes.

Futuba: (Giggles Softly) Geez, man~ Hope you didn't get pinched by a crab or something.

Ren: Nah. I didn't get pinched or anything. Just splashed in the face by a bucket of cold wate-

Makoto: (From a Distance) REN! FUTUBA! HAVE YOU FOUND THE KIDS YET!?

Ren: We have!! We'll be there with you guys in a sec-

Futuba: Wait a minute! Before we regroup....(Starts Sprinting Quickly) I need to get my phone to take some pictures first!

Ren: What? For blackmail?

Futuba: (Scoffs While Stopping her Tracks) No! I'm trying to capture the beautiful moment here. And THEN use it against Mona if necessary. So if you'll excuse me....(Resumes Sprinting) HARU!!! GET YOUR PHONE!!! CUTENESS OVERLOAD HAS BEEN SPOTTED IN THE NEAR DISTANCE!!!

Haru: (In the Distance) ('Gasps') Really!?~ I'll find it right away!!~

Makoto: Guys, we don't have time for this! It's already starting to get dark!

Ren: ('Sigh') The things people do for cute things.... (Turns to the Sleeping Kids With a Soft Smile) I envy you kiddos sometimes, you know? You don't have to worry about adulthood in a couple of years. (Shrugs While Sighing) But it's whatever. Good things have come and go sometimes. (Looks Back at the Closing Sunset) Until next time, Summer. Adios.

Again, the Morgana as a Human Kid Idea Was Inspired by None Other Than: @soaptaculart

@princekirijo

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@26shann

@cyber-wildcat

@albion-93

@illyrilex

@italian-love-cake

[funtimebunnyblog]

Diamante d’Italia: Chapter 1

After his Father "generously gave" the teenager a whopping amount of money Josuke finds himself vacationing in beautiful southern Italy.

However, being the trouble magnet he is, he ends up getting caught in Famiglia affairs.

Being so far from his home and his friends, Josuke needs to make some powerful allies to help him out of this mess...

(Chapter 1: Culture shock)

"--and remember to-"

"Yes Mom. I know." Josuke sighed into the phone, rolling his eyes. "I've got everything on me. You know I can protect myself."

They'd had this exact same phone conversation at every other airport he had called from so far. By now the teenager had memorized it all and knew exactly what his Mother was going to say.

Standing in the airport of Naples Italy wouldn't make a difference.

"Ok. But just be careful Josuke. Italy is so far from here." She said over the background clatter. "And you don't even know any Italian."

There was a crackle over the phone as she sighed, he could hear the sounds of dishes clinking in the background followed by running water.

He almost had to plug his other ear to drown out the loud voice on the intercom so he could hear her talking.

"...I know Tonio."

"That joke was horrible, Josuke."

If there wasn't the sound of dishes still being done, he would've been sure his Mother had hung up on him.

There were no words exchanged for at least a full 10 seconds and with each passing second the teenager tried harder and harder to contain every giggle that tried to escape his lips, waiting with baited breath on her reaction.

The teenager couldn't hold in his laughter anymore, wheezing a little as he leaned on the glass wall of the phonebooth.

"I know." He cackled. "But it's kinda true. Tonio told me so much about Italy! It can't be that bad here..."

A change of scenery would do him good. Especially after all he had been through in the past little while with all that serial killer mess.

He had been daydreaming about this trip, this place, but most importantly; the cuisine, for almost a month now.

After his Father so generously "gave" him his wallet upon departure of Morioh, Josuke Higashikata decided it was time for him to see some of the world.

It was definitely time for a vacation and what better place to visit than the country with food that made Okuyasu and him squabble over every single morsel cooked and served to them by Tonio.

He earned a punch to the shoulder however from Okuyasu after telling him the news. His friend wasn't spiteful however and laughed, telling him that he could finally have Tonio and his fine chef skills all to himself while he was away.

Neither of them had really looked at "normal" food that same way after tasting fine Italian food so he couldn't think of a better place to go for some rest and relaxation.

He had also heard that Italy held some beautiful sights.

Josuke promised to bring him home a shitload of souvenirs anyways. He was also considering getting something for Koichi and his Mom back home.

There was another crackle over the phone along with the running water in the background suddenly being turned off, making it a little easier to hear the woman as she spoke.

"If you say so..."

It also made it easier to hear the undeniable concern lacing her tone however.

"Say, what time is it over there anyways Mom?" He questioned, mostly out of curiosity, but also for the sake of taking his Mothers mind off of any worries she held for him.

"Just after 5." She answered with a hum, the sound of a plug being pulled and a draining sink accompanying it.

"Oh wow!" He blinked, peering out off the glass booth to squint at the overly large clock of the airport terminal. "It's only 10AM over here."

"If you're going to call home, please do it around this time Josuke." She told him, a laugh lacing her voice as she spoke. "I wouldn't appreciate being woken up by the phone at 3AM."

The Highschooler laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. He should probably write that down just in case he forgot, the last thing he wanted was to be screamed at by his Mother over the phone for waking her up in the middle of the night.

"Right..." he murmured. "Anyways. I should probably go now Mom. I'll call you from a Hotel or something tomorrow."

"Ok Josuke."

He could hear her hesitation to let him go in her voice alone.

"I'll be fine. I love you Mom. Talk soon!"

"I love you too."

He hung up the phone at last, a small smile gracing his lips.

Gripping the handle of his luggage tightly, he stepped out of the booth with his head held high.

He was worried about his Mother too of course. She was going through a lot too, especially when she was still grieving for his Grandfather.

However, once he was in possession of his newly aquired money (not stolen! Where would you get that idea?) He had given her a good portion of it and told her to spend the time he was away getting her nails done or treating herself in anyway she saw fit. She needed this little break as much as he did.

"Time to find a cab."

☆☆☆

Easier said than done.

Here he was on a sidewalk, finally into the City after nearly 2 hours of waiting for an open taxi to take him from the airport to the city, his pompador all in a stressful ruffle over the whole ordeal.

His eyes darted back and forth between the outstretched hand of the driver and the meter on the dashboard.

"120 000 Lira?!" He squawked at the cab driver, his aquamarine eyes going wide in their sockets as the man held out his hand before him.

Josuke wasn't exactly a mathematician, but he knew enough to know that amount was absurd! "Th-there's gotta be some mistake, sir! You only drove me to the edge of the city."

This was highway robbery (no pun intended), there was no way it could've been that much!

The taxi driver had rolled his eyes at him and told him otherwise, demanding he pay up or he'd drag him straight to the Police Officers who were standing idle near the Cab on the streetcorner.

Josuke peered into his wallet with a sigh from where he sat on the curb. Damnit. He'd have to think twice about taking another cab. He only had so much money to blow, necessary expenses like food and hotelrooms were his main priority, and he still needed a ticket home to Japan when all of this was over.

He'd just have to settle for walking the entire time he was here.

He tucked his wallet away safely, flicking out a comb and began to straighten out the poof of hair he so adored. He'd have to put some more hairspray in it later if things kept going like this, good thing he packed 8 whole cans.

His Lunchhour.

He stood up, grabbing his suitcase once more and keeping it close to his side.

"Well... I guess it's time to find a hotel." He mused. His thoughts were interrupted however by a punctuating growl of his stomach. He hadn't eaten much on the plane at all and from the position of the overhead sun, he could tell it was noontime.

"Ooh." He breathed, a hand moving to his stomach in surprise. "I'm running on empty..."

However, maybe it was better to ask for directions.

He supposed a Hotel would have to wait. What he really needed right now was a restaurant.

From all the stories Tonio told him about Italian cuisine and the entire culture behind it, he was sure it wouldn't be too hard to find one of those around here.

"Um- excuse me--" he tried to grab the attention of a passing man. The guy kept on walking without even giving him a side glance.

Another man approached him from behind and Josuke turned, stepping in front of him somewhat to gain his attention.

"Er... oh! Sir! A moment please, I'm--"

There went another one, very much like the first.

"Excuse me sir, could you tell me--" he started again. The man stopped in his tracks, nearly bumping right into Josuke.

"Ey! What gives?!"

"Outta my way, bastardo!"

The Highschool student barely had a chance to blink before the guy was right in his face, a fierce scowl pulling on his face.

If looks could kill, Josuke would be getting murdered in that moment.

The man grunted and shoved him further out of his way, balling his fists and grumbling to himself, too low for Josuke to hear, but the teen knew it was all in fluent Italian.

He held up his free hand in surrender, backing up and out of the way of the angry stranger.

"S-Sorry sir!" He practically squeaked. "I... I didn't mean to bother you!"

He rubbed his arm, a frown found its way to his face as he watched the furious mans back.

Sheesh. And here he thought he had been in a rough town back in Japan.

Maybe he should just start walking...

☆☆☆

He was starting to wish he took some language courses with Koichi in this years last term.

Or maybe he could've learned some basic words and stuff from Tonio, the man always seemed eager to share in the wonders of his culture after all.

Or maybe he could've not been an absolute dumbass and bought an Italian to English dictionary to use.

Or worse.

Josuke had been walking up and down the streets for nearly an hour, passing by buildings and signs galore, none of which he could read.

He was tempted to stop another stranger to ask what any of them meant, or even just plain ask where the nearest restaurant was, but he didn't want to get screamed at again.

Staring at the signs like a toddler who didn't know how to read but was trying made it all the worse.

"This is hopeless..." he grumbled, kicking at the sidewalk, sending a small stone bouncing down the white concrete.

He was actually contemplating calling his Mother again to ask her what he should do.

Maybe he could even call Tonio. Or Koichi. Or Okuyasu. Or his Nephew. Or fuck, ANYONE at this point.

Maybe he shouldn't have traveled alone and brought one of them along...

He had a feeling this was going to be a long day and he dug in his coat, whipping out his comb again. His pompadour was getting all ruffled again.

"Ei, tu."

He paused. Did someone... speak to him?

"Um... Hello?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you say something?"

Frowning, he turned to locate the voice, finding himself facing an alleyway that lead off the street.

A figure stood there, leaned against the brick wall of a building, their eyes gleaming at him. There were others too, just two others, all of them looking at him.

The one closest to the alley entrance, a tall thinner male, looked him up and down, "Sei il ragazzo?" A question of some sort.

The one who spoke sported disheveled brown hair and clothes that were even more so, with strange sunken in eyes that seemed to hold a never ending stare. His two friends were not much different, they all had that same stare and it was locked firmly onto him.

Josuke frowned a little deeper, he didn't really understand what the man wad saying. Did he want something? Or maybe... was he trying to help him?

The Highschool student looked around before stepping into the alley, closing the distance between him and the group.

"Um... I'm sorry I don't understand." He flashed an awkward smile, looking between the three men hoping that someone could understand him or at least translate. "Can any of you help...?"

It sort of reminded Josuke of when he ate his Lunch at the neighborhood park back in Morioh.

The dogs that hung out around there would all approach him, then sit and watch, with their ears up and their backs straight, unblinking and expecting him to give them a piece of his sandwich.

He always thought it was a little creepy, but it was even creepier somehow to see it in a person.

The brown haired one pointed to the suitcase he held, "É questo?" That sounded like another question to him.

This was getting nowhere. He heaved out a sigh, throwing his hands up as he began to back away. "Sorry. I have no idea what you're saying... I-I really got to go."

The more he backed up, the more the blankness of stares seemed to disolve into... anger?

Yeah, suddenly these guys were looking pissed. All three of them were staring even more intensely into him, most especially the brown haired one.

"Prendetelo!" One of the others barked.

"Dacci le maledette droghe, cazzone!" The brunet man screeched and Josuke realized there was a fist coming for him. He stepped back quickly, the closed hand swooping loudly through the air, barely gracing his chest.

What was happening? Why were these men suddenly after him? Josuke barely had the time to consider the options of running away or trying to talk his way out of all of this mess before he was suddenly on the ground.

"Darlo a noi!"

They tried to pull the leather bag from his grasp and he pulled back harder, now full on clutching it to his chest as the fists now rained down on him.

Josuke couldn't even cry out. Everything was happening all at once. His thoughts were loud and his heartbeat was louder. The noise around him had gone to nothing but whitenoise. His only thought was to not let them take his suitcase.

And then... it all stopped. Just as quickly as it happened.

The teenager opened his eyes to find that all the kicking and punching had ceased on him. One of the men was on the ground and there was another person standing over them, yelling into his face.

But here he was. Defending a fucking stranger from a group of junkies.

Leone Abbacchio hated getting involved with common street fights. He hated it especially more when he was supposed to NOT be fighting someone today.

It was his day off after all. Bucciarati told him he could spend his time how he wanted it and he wanted some alone time.

All the Mafioso wanted to do was listen to his damn music and get some lunch when he noticed this damn idiot (obviously a tourist) trying to converse with the men.

'Just keep walking.' He tried to tell himself over and over, trying to pacify the unease building in him.

It wasn't his affair.

This was their problem.

He was a bystander.

He wasn't even in the alley.

He was on his way somewhere.

He shouldn't even give it a passing glance....

And then he watched the punk get knocked to the ground.

Now here he was, kicking the shit out of a damn dirty junkie.

Josuke winced at he the sound of a fist hitting hard against a nose, the crackle of bone filling his ears.

"FUCK OFF!"

One of the men who had been attacking him came up behind the silver haired figure and threw his arms around him in an attempt to pull him down.

Abbacchio didn't even flinch and hauled the man forward, bending so he came right over his head and smacked into the brunet who was holding the nose that was gushing with red blood.

He definitely owned up to his name then and there because to Josuke his gruff and booming voice was like the roar of a powerful Lion.

That was all it took. All three of them were clamoring to their feet and booking it down towards the other end of the alley.

It sort of reminded Josuke of that time he broke that seniors nose.

Thank God his hair was still ok though, after checking quickly he sighed in pure relief. That was truly what mattered to him, along with his luggage.

His eyes turned to his savior and he slowly got up from the hard ground, wincing as he did.

He was definitely going to hurt in the morning. He could already feel a bruise spotting on the center of his back.

"Th... Thank you." He spoke at last watching as the new stranger turned to face him at last. "I just wanted to ask for directions but I didn't know what they wanted..."

The duel coloured eyes of the man burned into him as he looked over him, making the high schooler start to sweat under the penetrating gaze.

"You... seem familiar." Abbacchio said at length. He had seen someone before with the same kinda face, he was sure of it. He squinted at the Highschool student as he wracked his brain for answers.

The teenager was sure of that. He was sure he would've remembered this man purely by the way he looked, let alone the strong and intimidating presence that radiated off him, if he had even glanced in his direction before.

Josuke blinked, his expression not unlike a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car.

"Um... we've never met before."

Abbacchio rolled his eyes. "Tch. No shit." He spat. "I've never seen you before either stronzo. You just seem kinda familiar."

Josuke winced slightly, averting his eyes to the ground lamely.

"Sorry."

He really hoped this guy could take a joke. He just got off the ground and didn't want to be thrown back down onto it.

He really was. For what exactly, he wasn't sure, but apologies always spilled from your lips in these kind of situations, regardless of whether you did something or not.

He broke off into an awkward laugh, shrugging as he struggled to meet the mans gaze. "I'm the only one I know who has such stylish hair like this so I don't know what would seem familiar to you."

"Whatever." The Goth finally said, shaking his head. "Judging by what just happened I can tell you're not from around here. You a tourist or something kid?"

Abbacchio folded his arms, looking him up and down again, making him painfully aware of more sweat beading on his neck.

This man was so hard to read to Josuke, kind of like his nephew in that way, he had no idea what the hell he was thinking.

"Oh sure am!" Josuke smiled brightly, a little more at ease. This guy was making some small talk with him, which was usually a step in a good direction.

A direction where he hoped he wouldn't get beat up and almost mugged again...

"I'm kinda on a vacation. I got some money and decided I wanted to see the world..." He rocked on his heels a little, studying the man before him just as much as he was him. "You live around here?"

"You could say that..." Abbacchio hummed, glancing back towards the street. "I don't exactly have a home but I live here."

"Oh!" Josuke had to refrain himself from covering his mouth after letting out that noise in surprise. He averted his gaze, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh." He said, much softer this time, feeling very awkward. If only he had the ability to make the ground swallow him up. "I'm sorry...."

Leone offered no response.

"Do you like... have a place to sleep at least? Like at nights?"

"Yeah. I tend to move around a lot though." He answered vaguely. Best to keep all that extra information to himself. This brat didn't need to know the ins and outs of his life.

He nodded this time, because he did. He mostly slept at Bucciarati's house, whether upstairs in one of the guestrooms or on the mans couch downstairs.

Sometimes when out on missions, whether alone or with the others, he checked into a hotel (sometimes a Motel) and stayed there.

Other times he slept in the back of a van while on the road to or from said missions.

At least he wasn't drinking himself to death somewhere in the gutter anymore...

He turned his gaze back to Josuke who seemed a little more at ease hearing his words. He narrowed his eyes, "You're not.... in the Famiglia? Are you?"

Josuke blinked a few times. The.... what?

"Fam-eel-e-ah?"

That alone answered his question.

Who the hell other than a Mafioso sported a fucking pompadour?!

Raising one pointed eyebrow, he looked the kid over again. He never would've guessed he wasn't associated because he certainly dressed like a Mafioso.

What with that black coat adorned with those shiny golden hearts, not to mention the peace sign and the anchor as well, and that hair...

This twerp apparently...

Abbacchio huffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Nevermind. Just... watch yourself Kid. More importantly, watch your wallet."

Oh Christ! His wallet! He might've dropped it in that scuffle! Those bastards might've took it!

Josuke panicked, hands instinctively slapping his pockets in a frantic search. Ah! It was there! As soon as his hand found the bulge in his pocket, he let out a breath as relief washed over him like a warm tidalwave on the beach.

"Oh- yeah, yeah... of course." He breathed. "Th-Thanks for reminding me-" here he paused, his pale blue eyes blinking. "I never... got your name."

To his own surprise, Abbacchio complied.

"Abbacchio." He said. "Leone Abbacchio."

"Abbacchio..." Josuke tested the name out, bobbing his head as he idly scratched his chin. "Ha! Cool name. I'm Josuke Higashikata, I actually come from Japan."

The dawny eyed mans frown deepened as he contemplated telling him that his last name literally just meant "lambchop", a far cry from "cool" if you asked him, but he thought better of it.

Yeah. There was no way in Hell Abbacchio was going to try and take a crack at repeating that last name. He'd be there all day.

Just "Josuke" would have to do.

"Japan, huh?" He said aloud, more to himself than Josuke, stroking his chin in thought. "I hear the streets are much nicer there..."

The events of the past couple of months suddenly came flooding back all at once to Josuke. How he and his friends had been attacked left and right, going against all odds, all on a search to hunt down their towns serial killer.

The blaring siren of that Ambulance still haunted him in his sleep and he woke up in a cold sweat each time there came the sound of a head being popped each time it replayed in his head.

He laughed a little, forcing a smile on his face as a hand swept through his hair. "Yeah... you could say that."

Now desperate to change the subject, he decided to steer the conversation to something much lighter. Something that didn't make him remember a massacre.

Or a hand-fetishing serial killer getting his head squashed like a grape.

"You've... got quite the fashion sense." He commented, pointing to the mans open coat lined with laces and purple lipstick maybe a little rudely. "I like your eyeliner."

Leone hardly batted an eye (a well lined eye at that) at his words. If anything, he was surprised the kid didn't outright say anything like "ARE YOU A GOTH?!"

He was quite used to that one, even if the answer was yes it was still irritating.

Besides... that one little girl on the bus that time told him he looked pretty. And that was enough for him.

Or there was always the "Why are you wearing makeup? You're a MAN!"

Now that one always made him fucking furious. Just because he was "a man" didn't make any damn difference. Makeup was to make you look good so it was for everyone.

"Thanks." He huffed. Though his voice hadn't lost any of that gruffness, he truly was thankful for a genuine compliment. "I like your coat."

He wasn't quite like Koichi however. The silver haired teenager thst only came up to his hip wore his heart on his sleeve everywhere he went.

Josuke, very unlike Abbacchio who seemed indifferent to it all, blushed at the praise. His friends always told him he was very expressive and that was true.

When he was happy he walked with bounce in his step, when he was sad it all came out in tears and when he was angry... oh... he was told the sight wasn't very pretty.

"Ah, thanks. It's my school uniform, I really like it."

Here Abbacchios eyebrows shot right up, a frown twinging at the corners of his mouth. A school uniform? This kid must have been living some kind of high life, or maybe at least went to a pretty decent school, if this was just a plain old uniform.

He pursed his lips, the punk kind of reminded him of a stand-user. He had a hunch.

"I see..." he hummed, folding his arms across his chest. "You really are still just a kid then."

Bucciarati often said that stand-users (natural or otherwise) tended to gravitate towards one another. Like "strings of fate" or some cliché sounding shit.

But maybe it was possible. This kid wasn't a Mafioso... but he could very well have powers.

Like lightning striking, Josukes expression changed again. His eyebrows went together and his lips into a sort of a pout.

"I'm 16." He told the man, trying to sound as rough and tough at least as half as this stranger was (Abbacchio quirked an eyebrow, looking completely unfazed at his attempt however, probably because he just watched him get beat up). "Besides. I think I'm pretty mature..."

"I won't call you a kid if you don't call me an old man. Deal?"

This kid was starting to kinda sound like Mista. However if the punk started spewing shit about how the number 4 was unlucky, he would get as far away as possible.

He half chuckled (it was more of an exhale), coloured lips quirking somewhat into a smirk.

Josuke shrugged, uncrossing his arms as his lips pulled into a smirk of their own, cocking an eyebrow at the other.

"Hmm, depends. How old are you?" He questioned, almost playfully. The man must have been at least approaching his 30's but he wasn't sure.

"Well into my 20's." Abbacchio grunted, keeping his exact age number vague to the young teen. "But I've seen more shit than other people do in a lifetime."

For all he know he really could be an old man. He had white hair after all and certainly had the gruffness of an older man.

Maybe he was hiding some wrinkles under that makeup or something?

Only in his 20's? Jeeze... he believed that last part. Most especially when the dawny eyes suddenly locked onto his, staring at him with all seriousness.

"Listen to me, I don't really care what the Hell you do, but when you get out of school... stay away from the bad stuff. You hear me?"

Josuke swallowed, his mouth now felt way too dry, and he nodded to the man almost knowingly. He had been through some bads too... however, he couldn't help but wonder how much similarities there were between him and Abbacchio.

Leone huffed quietly, giving the kid one more solemn nod, before turning on his heel and quietly going on his way down the alley, out towards the street.

The teenager watched him go, feeling painfully out of place all of a sudden, like a puzzle piece that had been jammed into the wrong spot.

"Uh- hey!"

He didn't even realize that he had called out until Abbacchio halted in his tracks, turning to look at him with a deep frown.

Josuke fidgeted on the spot, stuffing his hands in his pockets to avoid fumbling with them out in the open and look somewhat composed under the older mans stare.

Once again, Leone Abbacchio found himself feeling surprised.

"Uhh..." he cleared his throat, trying to focus his thoughts clear enough to speak without stuttering.

"This might sound kinda weird but -uh... you wanna... like grab a coffee or something?" He smiled sheepishly at the man whose expression didn't change. "I mean, you just kinda saved my skin back there and you seem pretty cool. I don't have anybody traveling with me and... we could like... talk more? Ah- only if you don't mind!"

Ah, fuck it. He had already gone out of his way.

Normally when he was out and about and people were forced to interact with him in any way, shape or form, they tended to want to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible.

Hell, he had people practically jump out of his way sometimes when he was just walking down the street.

Plus, he was getting hungry.

He nodded to Josuke.

Josuke was now jogging up to him, the man swore he saw stars in the teens eyes to match his bright smile.

Tonio definitely didn't tell him that part about Italy...

He wasn't even sure if he had even been that long here in Italy.

Josuke did his best to keep up, Abbacchios steps were long and deliberate making him quite fast for a man who was just taking a stroll, keeping just a little behind him to avoid bumping shoulders with the people on the streets.

Abbacchio started down the alley again, waving him to follow.

"Comrades, huh?" He laughed a little. "What? You in a gang or something?"

It was meant to be a joke. Something to get his newest companion to roll his eyes and give a half-hearted chuckle. Josuke felt his stomach become as heavy as a brick when Abbacchio swiveled his head to look at him, his white hair flinging slightly over his shoulder as he stared him in the face.

The teen wondered briefly if his new ally would suddenly beat him up like those dealers tried to do and he gulped, preparing to turn tail and run as fast as he could down the street.

The former policeman frowned deeply. Did this stronzo know nothing about the mean Italian streets? The Mafia? Of fucking course he was in a Gang, did he think he was just a streetwalking freak that kicked the shit out of druggies and junkies alike for fun?

Abbacchio leaned closer, his expression radiating all seriousness.

"S-Sorry..." he muttered somewhat lamely, his voice so quiet Abbacchio probably wouldn't have heard him if he weren't so close.

Any idiot would know the true meaning to that answer and Josuke didn't consider himself an idiot.

The man grunted in response and simply kept walking, no more was said as Josuke continued to followed him down the street to this supposed spot.

On the bright side of things... he now reminded him even more of his nephew Jotaro.

Even if it wasn't in a good way...

More importantly, he was finally going to get something to eat.

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Oh, Those Summer Nights. (Part 7) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Another night spent holed up in a hotel room, lounging lazily atop the crisp linen of the unfamiliar bed and absentmindedly flicking through TV channels. Tyler and Josh were scheduled to play a show at the Sonics Arena about a half hour out tonight, and a quick glance at the bedside alarm clock told you that they were only seconds away from going onstage.

You had opted to sit out of tonight’s show, having so far been to virtually every other one on this tour, and chose to rather stay in your suite; hotel nights weren’t too common while on the road, after all, and you wanted to get the most out of the luxurious boarding before being re-confined to the cramped tour bus for the next however many weeks.

The only problem was that without the boys and rest of the crew, you were alone. Now usually, that would’ve been absolutely fine by you but tonight that wasn’t the case.

It could’ve been a subconscious thing – a side effect as a result of the complexity of the whole Josh/Brendon situation – but you had the unusual desire to be in the presence of other people, prompting you to gather your jacket and purse and slip on some shoes before heading for the Italian restaurant you had passed on the corner of the hotel’s street.

You could really do with some pasta right about now.

~

Brendon lips curved into a huge fake smile. Normally, the smile would have been real, but he wasn’t feeling in the happiest of moods this night. His facial muscles relaxed a moment later, after a blinding flash went off.

He blinked a couple times to rid his eyes of the attack of white light before wrapping his arms around the two fans on either side of him in quick yet affectionate hugs, assuring them it was no problem as they continuously thanked him for stopping to indulge their request for a picture.

Waving his hand as a final goodbye, Brendon continued on his way, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his jacket and watching the way his breath transformed into little wisps of fog as he exhaled. There was an undeniable chill in the air tonight. In retrospect, he probably should’ve recognised it as foreshadowing that no good would come from the next few hours, but he was too headstrong to even give that so much as a wavering thought.

He had come to Seattle for one reason and one reason only – and that reason was currently sitting alone at a table for two in the restaurant he was strolling past, leisurely sipping a glass of iced tea while scanning over the menu.

Brendon’s breath hitched when he caught sight of you, and his footsteps halted. You were sitting in the farthest corner from the front window, almost entirely sheltered from the peering gazes of passing pedestrians. But even so, he spotted you immediately; it was as if he had a sixth sense solely dedicated to all things you.

Every fibre of his being was encouraging him to rush into the eatery, gather you in his arms and just kiss the hell out of you. And after a slight moment of hesitation he decided to do just that.

Well, part of it, anyway.

The rushing in part, to be exact. The other two parts would come later.

Hopefully.

A fresh gust of frosty air whizzed into the restaurant as Brendon opened the door and strode inside. The air inside was toasty – thanks to the heating systems installed in every corner – so the singer shrugged off his coat and slung it over his arm before tangling a hand in his hair and neatening it up a bit.

He started for your table, heart pounding so loud he could practically hear it and an adrenaline overload pumping through his body. His mind was on a rampage with thoughts of what he was going to say to you. It had been all he could think about on the plane ride over, during which he was able to craft a respectable mental outline of what his speech would entail. However, as soon as he had begun walking over to you, that outline disintegrated, and so he went with saying the only thing he could in this situation.

“Hi.”

You didn’t have to raise your gaze from the menu to know who it was – you could sense him. Your lips parted in a small sigh as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t expected him to show up again at some point, but you figured that he would at least have enough of a grasp on the concept of ‘privacy’ to choose to make his appearance at your hotel door instead.

But this is Brendon we’re talking about; you should’ve known better than to expect anything less than a public declaration of his love for you.

Said declaration didn’t seem to be happening yet, though, so you turned to look up at him. He gave you a weak smile filled with so much optimism it almost made you cave right then and there.

But you renounced the urge and rather returned his greeting. “Hi.”

“Do you…” he moved his eyes and cocked his head to gesture at the empty seat across from you, “Do you mind?”

Leaning back in your seat, your shoulders slouched as you sighed heavily and extended a hand to indicate that it was fine.

Brendon moved awkwardly, slinging his coat over the back of the chair before languidly seating himself at the table. He cleared his throat and rested his forearms on the maroon tablecloth; it was clear that he was on edge.

You stared at your ex with a blank face. Brendon used to be able to read you outstandingly well, but it seemed as though that ability had degenerated a decade ago, because over the last year or so, he found you to be wholly unreadable.

There had been a significant change in your character – you weren’t the girl from that summer eleven years ago anymore. And while Brendon loved that – loved the person you had become – it admittedly threw him completely off the rails. He had absolutely no idea how to speak to you, and he’d been failing miserably at it up until now.

Everything he said to you seemed to come out in a way he hadn’t intended it to, resulting in you becoming increasingly pissed off at him. From here on out he wanted to make sure not to make any more linguistic mistakes, which is why the two of you sat in silence – just staring at one another – for a solid three minutes.

At the precise moment that Brendon decided to open his mouth to speak, the waiter appeared and asked for your food order.

“Oh, uh…” Brendon startled, doing a quick once over of the menu before looking up at the waiter, “I’ll have the alfredo, and a lasagne for the lady. Extra cheese.”

He handed the menus over, mentally praying that he’d gotten your order right and that your preferences hadn’t changed; he exhaled in relief when you didn’t object.

“Certainly,” the waiter nodded slightly, “Anything to drink for you, sir?”

Brendon reached a hand up to his throat, which he suddenly realised was uncomfortably dry. “Just a glass of ice water, thanks.”

With a polite smile, the waiter turned and headed back to the kitchen and Brendon turned back to you.

“You remembered,” you intoned, the tiniest of smiles tugging at your lips; Brendon perked up ever so slightly at the sight, thrilled that he had gotten something other than a rage-fuelled reaction from you.

“Yeah,” he susurrated, running a hand through his puffy hair as he tossed you a lopsided grin, “How could I forget? You finished practically the entire dish by yourself when the restaurant served it at the buffet that one night.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, crossing your arms across your chest and shifting your gaze around. Brendon’s laugh sounded across the table and you couldn’t supress a few giggles of your own. “I was so sick the next day.”

He laughed even harder. “You were crying, saying how you were never eating it ever again, and then-“

“I ordered it for lunch the next day,” you nodded, laughing too as you shook your head at the memory.

“You were so stubborn,” he shook his head, leaning forward on his forearms as he smiled at you, “You wouldn’t even let me look after you when you were sick.”

“I didn’t want you to see me all ‘ugh’,” you defended, holding up your hands and arching your brows, “Sue me for trying to keep the romance alive.”

“The romance was very much alive,” he scoffed, cocking one brow at you with a slight smirk.

“Yeah, ‘cause you forced yourself into my hotel room and took care of me anyway so that I was back to normal before the sun even set. And then we…” you trailed off, letting those three words hang in the air as you averted your gaze downwards and delicately chewed on your bottom lip.

Both of you knew exactly what you were referring to.

“I’ve had tons of amazing nights in my twenty-plus years, but that night was without a doubt the best night of my life so far,” Brendon spoke, voice so much gentler and amused smirk replaced by the sincerest of expressions.

You looked up at him through your lashes and swallowed.

“I say ‘so far’ ‘cause,” he gulped, gaze flickering to your lips briefly before returning to your eyes, “I hope that some night in the near future will top that one.”

With slightly quivering hands, you raised your iced tea to your lips and took a sip to soothe your all-of-a-sudden-parched throat before setting it back down with a harsh respire.

Setting your elbow on the table, you tangled your hand in your hair and lifted your gaze to meet Brendon’s.

“Bren, I think you should know… Josh and I… we’re… kinda…” you stumbled over your words, not being able to fully enunciate the point you wanted to get across.

What you were able to get out was enough, though, and Brendon’s body visibly stiffened. He was silent for a long moment, staring at you blankly as he let the idea properly sink in. When he eventually did speak, it wasn’t what you’d expected to hear.

“Okay,” he nodded, pursing his lips, “I get that.”

You tried and failed to mask your bewilderment. “You do?” you gawked.

Another nod. “Yeah. I mean,” he ran a hand through his quiff and shrugged, arching his brows, “It makes sense. Was bound to happen sooner or later.”

You were thoroughly perplexed at this point; Brendon’s reaction practically contradicted all of his words and actions over the last few months. He picked up on this confusion, and tossed you a light smirk before leaning forward again.

“I am upset about it, obviously, but I knew it was coming,” he explained, fingers absentmindedly swiping away the condensation on the outside of his glass of water, “Just… can I ask why?”

You cocked your head and frowned; Brendon sighed.

“Are you with him because you want to be? Or is it because of circumstance?”

“Huh, that’s funny,” you muttered, rolling your tongue along the inside of your cheek.

“What is?”

“Tyler asked me the exact same thing.”

The singer swallowed, shrugging again and slanting back in his chair. “Guess you could say he’s rooting for me in this one.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat, eyes marginally squinted in suspicion.

The waiter came by with the food, setting your meals down and asking if you needed anything else. After you said no, he turned and made his way back to the kitchen, leaving the two of you to tuck in.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to leave.”

“You haven’t said anything to piss me off that much,” you shrugged, cutting a bite from the lasagne, “Yet.”

“Obviously my main goal here is to win you back – and I will achieve that goal if it’s the last thing I do – but,” he looked at you earnestly, “for now I’ll settle for you not wanting to strangle me every time we have a conversation.”

“Mm,” you narrowed your eyes and took a sip of tea, “I wanna be friends with you, Brendon; I’m totally on board with that. But you’re wasting your time trying to win me back, because I assure you that it’s not going to happen.”

He nodded, somewhat mockingly.

“I’m serious,” you dropped your fork and steeled your gaze, “I’m over you.”

“Alright, babe.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

You groaned. “If you know, then why are you still trying?”

“Because… If you’re really over me,” he reached over to brush your hair out of your face, letting his fingers linger against your skin for a little longer than necessary, “I’ll just have to make you fall in love with me all over again.”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

Taglist:

@darknessdancing

@raversam

@username-number-01834

@moosesmoose

@underscoredarcy

@cupcaitlyn96

[2gameprince]

Pyre On The Lake

The white room gleamed a horrible clear color, while the air was dry and void of any flavor. This room was a cell. But a cell in a place which my mind could not yet register, as the events leading to my imprisonment are not those of a thief or a murderer. This white room is not of the world I once knew, and my tale is as unlikely as any story, I imagine, you have ever been told. It started as a boating trip with my older brother, Anthony. He had just returned from college and I had recently graduated highs school. After a long time away we’d figure we’d rebuild the connection of our close relationship by going on a boating trip, free from the scolding words of our parents when the booze and pot were whipped out. We contemplated bring up girls, but Anthony and myself were more introverted than most guys our age, I guess. We had always been close. And we decided that this trip would just be for us. We paid for some old cabin that our dad’s friend was renting out and took out some our savings to afford a week and a half up there, in the mountains. The cabin was near these two rivers, side by side and flowing quick and steady down the slope of the hilly landscape. Woods surrounded the cabin, which surprisingly was very well kept. The interior was almost completely modern. It had tables and beds and stuff that folded out from the shaved walls. There was a view through this back window that was positioned over this lake, directly behind the building. While looking out the back window, which was in the room I was sleeping in, the sun peeked out from behind the rocky horizon and reflected off the water so beautifully. The outside air was bug-free and the temperature was astonishing. We had finally reached our vacation spot. I thought about the day I had had and the bustle of my daily life which brought me to plan such a week. I remember thinking aloud to myself: “Today is looking to be one big steaming pile of shit. I'm working in the blistering heat of a humid August day, watching the old Italians and Jewish-folk of the neighborhood waddle by and into their mini vans. I think about how I might be spending today if I was in their position. I got a pack of cigarettes in my pocket; Found under my bed a day or two after my girlfriend had misplaced them there. I don't like the taste. The tobacco, or whatever the hell they put in cigarettes nowadays, is too packed for me. I enjoy a lighter, smoother brand. I'm supposed to be up pushing carts around, but in this weather I'm more sure I'd die of heatstroke before I could clear a parking lot. Besides, I'm in no mood to help the average schmuck about their "pleasant shopping experience”. Customers are all promised special treatment and the workers are all promised aggravation and shit pay. If it wasn't for the fact that it was a hundred degrees out here, and that I need some god damned form of income to keep the judgmental words of my peers away, I'd up and stroll all the way home right now. Or, storm into the office of my boss, throw my vest and belt down on the table and tell them "I quit"; Just like in those old stereotypical cop action-flicks. And the sun shower has begun. About time. It doesn't do much; Just kinda makes me feel as if the air has gotten cooler. Anything to trick the mind. When the carts ain't that full I like to sit on a bench, past where the front store cameras can spot you, smoke and fiddle around on my phone. No one in my family knows I smoke cigarettes. Maybe they assume I do and are too trusting in my ability to share every single detail of my personal life with them that they'd just rather wait for me to say I do. All the while making allusions. I considered lighting up another cigarette, since after downing two I kinda got used to this brand's taste, but I'd rather not. I'll make them last if I gotta. Just don't wanna run the risk of a family member driving by and seeing me swallow smoke. I could picture them flying home in a panic and gossiping like fat-lipped gulls, as they like to do. Probably not my mother, though. She can keep a secret, as far as I've observed in my life, so far. Had to get back to work. Been sitting down for a good hour and the mixed temperatures in the air, as well as this flat wooden bench, are starting to turn my legs and my ass numb. I'll sit down again once I'm ready for a third cigarette and a bottle of water; Or both.” What a day that was, and how happy I was to return home and see my brother waiting. Over dinner our brother brought up the subject of fishing and I took to the idea of a trip. Anthony would be home permanently now. At least, until pursuing a career in computers. And at some far away company in ‘god-knows-where-ville’. So for the short time we had with him, I suggested a trip and he took to the idea quick-fast. Our parents, hesitant at the thought of their only two sons fending themselves off from the “horrors” of the wilderness stirred them, Anthony assured a tranquil and firm environment. So with much discussion and the assurance of mine and my brother’s responsible nature, my parents waved us goodbye two days later. I tried my best not to think back to the dull life back home and focus on the time I had now. Anthony and me went hunting for a while, caught a habit or two and, before hand, got settled into our rooms. I prepared to relax in the cabin’s living room as I found the television actually receiving channel pick-ups. I skipped through some static and came to some local new stations and a kid’s channel. Anthony entered the room and asked if I was ready to start fishing. It was eight at night, but I humored his eagerness. So I took a pole from behind the shed, as well as all the hooks, lines and bait that he’d set up, and we walked on down to the dock for some night-fishing. We thought about setting into a boat out on the water, but decided against the idea. We figured it’d take too long. We set up our rods and took a seat out on the dock which rested on the beach and followed up out on the water in a ’T’ shape. The moon was full and the lake was a black glistening muck. Beautiful upon viewing, but sinister underneath. I looked up at the moon and thought about our time together. Not many words were exchanged between us upon that dock. We were both lost in the moment. The perfection of the night and the appreciation of one-another’s company just had us at ease. There was no need for words. Presence was enough. And so, we commenced fishing. We sat upon the dock and casted lines. We caught nothing for about and hour and decided to pack up. Just as we were putting the hooks away we noticed the water dancing. There was a ball of scrambled liquid, floating within the center of the lake and glowing a reddish glow beneath the surface of twirling water. It was like a sun beneath a sheet of liquid. Loops of thin fire sprung out from the sphere as it grew in size. It mesmerized our eyes and then our senses. First came it’s sound, vibrant and appealing in multiple tones. Next, came it’s smell, like a fresh brush of air which had been untouched by atmosphere itself. A temperature beyond hot or cold. This heat, or cold, or whatever flowed out from this ball, and the ball grew bigger. I turned to Anthony to see he had been lost in the look of the thing over the lake. I looked on with a daze and almost wanted to reach out for it. Fire flew out at us in loops again; But this time they struck at the shore and the dock, slicing up the area around us. Our daze became fear as we snapped out of our trance and into a panic. We dodged these rays and ducked to avoid these growing masses which blew out of the sphere like hot steam from a tight radiator pipe. I jumped from the dock alongside Anthony as two beams shot between us. I landed on the grass as the last of the dock was burned way. I felt Anthony’s body follow me in the jump, but as he landed I heard a much softer landing. I leaned over in horror to see his torso burned in two. Everything from his lower chest down was burned away, as if combustion had taken the rest of him. More than anything, I remembered feeling angry. A feeling which attracted me to the sphere, both in fury and interested. I moved closer, and in rage I threw my self at the thing, triggering some rift. A blast of light engulfed me in fire and I passed through, what seemed like a flux of air, built-up in a brush of heavy wind. A wind which carried me away. Out into a void and black place where there was no air. My feet fell flat on the water as gravity shifted and I sunk under the surface. The lake became a portal, and upon the other side I found myself in a place removed from space and time. A corner of a dimension that was separated from all other things. A desolate realm of nothing, but… Him. He revealed himself to me. A presence within the lake, he was. A speaker of ancient things and a spirit of the sub-conscious and, not a speaker of words, but a conveyer of thought. This ghoul passed over me, almost scanning me with eyes it did not have. I felt this being in all his entirety and felt all that he was about. Meaning, purpose, origin and creation; This being… It’s name, ‘Droth', was something not of earth or humankind. Or of space, in that regard. Droth. It was the only word that came to mind. It was the name of this presence. This thing which pulled me into this realm. Not a living thing. Just a being of some sort. A “Him”. I felt a great sleep approach me. An almost ambitious haze which entered my mind and brought back thoughts of a calm and resting environment. I was in a place of familiarity brought on by Him. And He made me remember my youth. And in my youth there rested a short tale. The abstract tale of a man named Thomas Leaf. A story which confused, yet, settled me and a story that went something like this: “He was a fitted-man. Thomas, as he was called. And he made a habit of mowing his rooftop every noonday and again, especially when the grass got tall after the rain. The sun was half up before I noticed him. My wife, sitting in our kitchen sink, called me to the window. I was in the shed with a ball of screws. I came trotting out to answer her call. That was when I noticed Thomas, prim as a pipe and getting vulgar. His wife sat under him, the house ablaze. The anguish was a fog of smoke. Thomas’ house had begun up, while my wife stared blankly. Misses Thomas, engulfed in flame, sat in her rocking chair, flames all about. Cotton filled my ears. The drums were booming as the sun ran a cycle. Thomas was in a panic, the grass burning from beneath him. Before long, he fell through. There was my house and his. My house, a square structure with pink walls, and a brown roof and a chimney. Thomas’ house was a pile of ashy mulch, containing the remains of Misses Thomas. Thomas stood right and proper, turning to me. The sky was scribbles as Thomas set off. Far into the distance he walked. Our houses, once standing at the threshold of an empty endless field, now a home accompanied by a blotchy blackness. We still live in the house, the misses and me. The town tried phoning Thomas, but he’s gone far away now. The birds come every day now, picking noodles from the wreckage. I have no doubt that Thomas will return soon. After all, he forgot his mower.” It didn’t make sense and it wasn’t supposed to, I guess. And that what the outlook I had placed upon my parent abduction at the hands of this otherworldly being. As for the story, I pondered the triggered memory. I could never remember the author, just the absurdity of the character named Thomas and his world, which appeared so unreachable to me. As if existing on a realm I’d never given thought to, or a place of pure fiction. I slipped back into a dream as his power over my being kept me sedated. His exact plans for me were uncertain. Was this mirage of a monster to devour my soul like a demon? Or steal my blood like a parasite? This worry fell back into lightheadedness as I floated back in space. A scene formed around me as a strange dream began to play out. The cocktail lounge was a bustle of mixed chatter which played along discontentedly with the absence of any music. We were in a long hall with a blue tile floor and golden flowers on shiny light brown tables. The bar tenders were attentive, and along with the assisted telling of my parents that I was under age, I was sure they'd ask me for identification. This left my plans of drinking for the evening null and void. I grabbed a small plate of eggplant parmesan and a cut of beef. I walked back to the table and got settled, realizing that I had forgotten a fork. After another trip, and a quick pondering about the absence of alcohol in my life, I sank back into my seat and wolfed down the plate. I had picked up this weird blue drink with fruit punch, dry ice and a cherry. The drink was alright. Sure as hell wasn't no substitute for a great big bottle of cold wine. A little while past and I took a picture at the request of the traveling photographer passing out table by every few minutes. I wanted to stretch but my dress cloths were too tight, as they always are, and my shoes were too small, like dress shoes always are. There was a fake fish tank full of plastic organisms and plants all around it. Caught me off guard at first. There's a faint booming coming from some curtains to our right as some woman in a tux waltz' up to us and instructs us the main room and dance floor are open. I get up to feel the creamy brush of swamp-ass as the heat begins to hit me now. I walk along this white curtain upon the wall to avoid stepping through some people's conversations. And we're onto the main room. I instantly recognize a flow of cool air which takes me over almost instantly. The music is louder now and unhelpful, teamed with the small headache that the heat had previously caused. Another DJ. I hate DJs. Cheaply hired, they blast over-rung beats so all the drunken thirty-year old women in the room, all with the same haircut and ideal social media profiles, can get up and wobble like rum-fiends on the dance floor. This obsession which drives them to drink is no stranger in my mind. And while they have the ability to order drinks as they please, one year away from being twenty one leaves me at quite the disadvantage. Luckily, there sits in front of me, a glass of champagne, only half filled, with five unoccupied seats around me and no one to finish the bubbling goodness of those glasses. So, one by one I poured them all into my drink, filling up the champagne till I was holding a pleasing amount. I threw my head back and caught a chunk of fresh air which freed me from my slumber. My breath was quick and hastily executed, almost as if I had ceased breathing while unconscious. Stars are all around me as this force, Droth, moaned in displeasure at my struggle for escape. This being longed to enter me. To take control of my mind for purposes which were beyond me. And with all my might I wouldn’t let it! It was through visions that He manipulated mankind. I say ‘He’. Not ‘it’ or ‘that’ or some other third thing to describe the presence He presented. It was just ‘Him’. A final and absolute to everything. The God, if you will; And in this darkness I sat as all that was around me was void. In the blackness of space he sat as my parallel, peering into my core. My soul and the nothingness that made me up. His glare was indifferent; And this place in which He had brought me was one of unrest, and yet I felt sedated. I was away from the world and outside an area of time which I could recognize. Home was a distant thought as this presence emanated and took me over. The cabin, the lake, the woods; All of it had gone now and only the complete indifference of this essence out of the ethos was with me now. Within me now. In this instance I was bigger than the sunos any start from here to infinity. Molecules were the insignificant makeup of a futile existence which only spiraled to one day cease to exist. In a moment I saw the universe and Him; And He was everything. I though nothing of my brother and his death, or the life I had left behind. Only He was true. He was injured, longing for a return to a place where I could be his entirety. Where I could be his parallel as he would walk in my skin. He wanted a return, back to the place of his birth and an escape from the valley of shadows we equally inhabited. He was strong, and as He attempted to convince me of his sincerity, my doubts vanished as if removed by a drug of some sort. Everything was water and space became liquid. I fell asleep to it’s vibrations as my eyes drew a tunneled vision. I sunk into slumber, and alongside Him I did slip back into this world. He followed. When I came to for the second time I could feel him with me. I was back on the lake and I was floating just barley atop the waters. The lake was motionless and the water stayed still in the moonlight. My lower body was still as He held me up. Through the lake and parallel reflection of the plane beside our own, he did begin to disperse. Out from the light and water He came, pressing out from the rift-less black and out into thee cloudy night sky. Peace of the heart became a scream of insanity as He was released upon the world. This being from another place, this sentience from another time; It was loose in our world. A dangerous thing, indeed. As the dimension from which it had transported us had closed up like a dark curtain. The form of the water changed from an ice gleam and into a cold ripple. He had taken to the forest and begun to surge through the land, traveling to find others like myself. Batteries to feed his cycle of ecstasy. He moved like wind and grasped at mater which harsh attachment. If it could be felt it could be manipulated, and across the rocky mountains He raced, absorbing the history of the land and data which designated within him. I felt this strength growing. He swept over beavers and deer and squirrels and chipmunks and things like that; Absorbing life. Collecting that stuff that made up souls. He was an Irk. That place from which he had escaped was a prison. And from his procession of me, we were tied together. I was the avatar of Him and He existed here because I had too. It was almost unexplainable how an entity, trapped within the reflection of a lake, coveted my soul. Never could I have imagined myself serving as vessel to those forces which I had previously never shed a thought for. But now, He tarnished the land and the death of my brother began to take me over as He branched out more and more; Allowing his hold on me to cease. The image of my brother’s body revealed itself one last time as I knew what I was to do to prevent His presence in this world. For my brother and for the safety of all those who call this planet home, He had to die. In turn, I had to die with him. He believed he had bonded to a perfect host. One without logic or reasoning enough to realize the intensions of a beast from a ball of fire on a lake made from the stars. I was sending Him back, with no chance of returning. I could see how he played dormant. With the state of the lake and the seclusion of this abode, this was holy ground. Or, perhaps even more than that. A prison for the otherworldly. A lake of pyre which held the very essence of a flame. A foul soul from a time lost and forgotten. It was into that forgotten passage which I was ready to return unto. And as I lied back and took my first swallow of the water, my feet only left the floating surface of the water once He had felt my life draining. With each breath of liquid he died, more and more. I drank the lake in heavy breaths as my lungs filled. I choked and gagged, but stuck at it. Drowning myself agonizingly. His soul sunk back into the lake as his fire died and his essence over the woods was subsiding. I opened my eyes for a moment as he rushed through me to find an escape. There was none, and within that lake I drowned myself, taking Him with me. As we returned to that void together, it struck me. This separation of sorts. As I flew backward into nothingness this black prism of space began to run white, like milk in water, the gleaming took over and a box began to enclose around me. I could feel him no more as all of his being fled from my core, returning mw to a fragile state. I believed myself to be dead, passing through layers of time which I had previously turned blindly upon. falling through time, these layers formed a box and here I was imprisoned. I felt nothing and the world outside these walls did not exist. Did I kill god? Is this all that is left of humanity? Did I destroy a force, able to keep the universe in form, and had I destroyed the form-keeper, reducing space and time into white walls of conscious-less absence?! Shock hit me as I collapsed to the ground. There was nothing around me but this prison. This white room within which I was trapped. And so I will remained trapped, until, perhaps, the absence of the void which placed me here is born again; And cycles in the new forms of creation. In turn, pulling back to a place of space and comprehensible time. Until that day, lost I remain among the starts. Look up and see me not, for I do not see you.