F L Y ☆ A W A Y

#fragolatossico #fugo 007

Honestly, Narancia couldn't even begin to expect to be called down here for something like that. To him, recent events would influence the idea that Fugo only had bad news to deliver, that the f his best friend was coming to an end. ... Temporarily, maybe, but... still.

It was a terrible feeling.

With his outburst aside, Narancia struggled to fully grasp the meaning of Fugo's words. ... He was fine? Well, that sure was a relief. Narancia was well known for his wild over-reactions, after all. He let out a sigh, shaking his head as hs gaze lifted to be met with a smile. .. A smile that was meant for him.

Paired with encouraging words, hints that his mere presence gave Pannacotta Fugo long-needed peace... it was a captivating feeling that would raise Narancia's spirits after a low that had lasted months.

Or, it could be the nastiest, sappiest thing that he's ever heard.

"... Dude. What the fuck. That's so gay? You're so gay? Why are you being so gay? I don't get it. Are you like... really sick? Because you're not usually this gay."

Still... he couldn't help but admit that those words were much appreciated. What was Fugo up to, though...?

we fuckin ballin motherfucker i cant believe tihs | narancia & fugo

Gentle knocks came from an essentially gentle person… such knocks where not gentle on Fugo’s conscious… it was fairly late at night, and here there he was, staggering, slowly restoring his balance. Still awfully dizzy, but hopefully coherent enough. Unhinging the door slightly, as far as the chain let it go, confirming it was him. And it was. With the chain undone, the door creaked and in went the little orange.

Fugo couldn’t help but heave a sigh, noticing how badly he’d made Narancia worry. "You’re awfully overdressed," he remarks lightly, even though he felt anything but. Feeling it was in bad taste, he narrows his gaze. "Sorry for waking you up so late."

That’s right, he was guilty. Default emotion by now.

He made the elder worry about him all the time, right? God. This wasn’t any different.

"I’m sick," admitedly, he could have said it in a better way, but— "I… we need to talk."

Maybe he was crying, maybe he was not. Either way, default emotion.

#fragolatossico #fugo 007 #i hate YOU

"Huh? Hey, shut up! You wanted me here in a hurry, so I got here as fast as I could, okay?!" Though it was reminiscent to one of his usual outbursts, it was far less passionate. He was tired, in nearly every meaning of the word. What Fugo had to say was...

"... Sick...?" ... What was that supposed to mean? Fugo wouldn't make this big of a deal over something like the common cold, right? So what kind of sick was Pannacotta Fugo? "... Hey, quit joking like that, you can't be sick..."

Months of frustration would find itself crawling to form a lump in his throat, a sting in his eyes. Why now...? Why now, when things were supposed to be getting better?! "S-Shut up! You... we just made up, things were gonna be okay! And now you're telling me that you're sick?! It's not fair!! Vaffanculo!! This better be some common cold shit, because... I..."

A sniffle and a quick wipe to his eyes. Buccellati would want him to be strong, right...? He needed to... what the hell was he doing sitting here crying like this? "... W-What... do you wanna talk about, huh...?"

we fuckin ballin motherfucker i cant believe tihs | narancia & fugo

Waterdrops cascade down one particular sink in the quiet of room 119.

Fugo was just washing down his shame, so to speak. Keeping lunch down has been fairly difficult as of late. No longer was the reason anxiety, but simply poor health in general. He’d been quite sickly ever since he’d arrived, but it was never this bad. His condition had taken a turn for the worse ever since he’d miscalculated that one time— perhaps it was due to the fact Fugo suddenly binged on every single food he would usually gag at… who even knew.

He was hungry, demons clawing the pits of his stomach for food to upchuck once more. But it was all fruitless as he knew what would happen. Changing mindset only guided the boy to further worry and dread. Pearching his hands, over his mouth, nose, his entire face— even breathing had become laboring, but at this volatile time he had one answer left. Through pathetic tears, coughing, sputtering— lie the light at the end of the cave.

Narancia.

Maybe it was time to tell him

about his little “condition”, or “feelings” even if he

didn’t know what they were.

from: fugo to: narancia

[TXT]: come to my room asap

[TXT]: right now

[TXT]: now

#fragolatossico #fugo 007

It's always something, isn't it?

It had only been just a few days since the orange had reconnected with the boy that he called his best friend. After what seemed like an eternity of hiding from his insecurities relating to the long-passed death of Pannacotta Fugo... he finally felt at ease.

Not for long, of course. Not here. Anywhere but here.

It was the middle of the night when Narancia had felt his phone buzz. With a groggy sigh, his small frame would roll over, squinting at a plea from a friend. ... Right now? What was...

Shit.

His pace was, as requested, hasty. No reply was given over the messenger as he slipped out of bed. Hell, he didn't really even change into suitable clothing. Wearing his boxers and a nervous heart, Narancia would saunter through the halls until he reached the room of interest.

119. A hesitant knock.

"F-Fugo...? What's going on? You're freaking me out..."

Maybe it’s best if he went more…

Your slab is here, asshole.

goldexperienced

{ to; narancia } — ★ тнє яєqυιєм ρℓαуѕ ση

——— ★ The Cinema. A rare event of Giorno’s childhood; after all, why would a man whose wrath showed no bounds towards a defenseless youth, or a woman who barely showed him a lick of affection ever take time out of their day to bring him to the movies? Even when he did attend a showing, the seats never failed to be packed with the bodies of youths, who bullied him from whatever ticket he had before he managed to even enter the building. Though all of that did change with that fateful day. Lips twitched upward into a small smile as he walked in the direction of the building labelled ‘Theatre’, recalling warm, most certainly genuine memories of the gangster who inspired him to become the youngest boss of Passione there ever was. He quickly stirred from those thoughts, however, as he approached the doors, dialogue and soundtrack from a pre-recorded reel playing so loudly that he could hear it from outside. A film had already begun.

——— ★ Giorno pushed open the doors, a vision of what awaited him already clear in mind. The packed theatre of his youth, heads turning his way at the sudden flood of exterior light. A heartbeat of hesitation, then a small crowd of people at his side, eager to give up their seats to the boy with gang connections. But this vision was exactly what it was: a vision. In reality, the blond’s eyes met with row upon row of empty seating. An invisible audience to watch the unfamiliar cinematic masterpiece on stage.

——— ★ Quiet footsteps, silenced by the roar of a gunfight on screen, soon brought the boy to the front of the stage where he stood for a moment, craning his neck to observe the fictional quarrel. When would the others in the cinema show themselves, he wondered? There had to be someone, otherwise there would be no reason for a screening to be in process. The answer to that came a little sooner than anticipated, as Giorno reached back to grab the arm of a plush chair, only to lift his head as he was seating himself to see the silhouette of another at the end of the row. As if the movie knew, a final gunshot rang through the cinema, and the music died with a dramatic abruptness. Eardrums were given rest as Giorno slowly rose back to his feet, staring at the other, though not speaking a single word just yet.

#goldexperienced #giorno 001 #yaaaas

Certain events had scarred the youth's mentality. With the previous trial's events, Narancia Ghirga had laid witness to the most brutal display of humiliation and gore that his young eyes had yet to see. Left to care for a brave soldier that gave his vision so that the undeserving wouldn't have to feel the very pain that he did... that, to Narancia,was simply disgusting. Disgusting enough for it to haunt him, to bear a growing hatred towards the general populous of the school.

What mattered to Narancia right now, however, was that Levi Ackerman was safe, now. In the care of the man who had sparked all of this mess. For some reason, he found himself hoping their paths would cross again. The man had a certain air to him, one that was easy to follow...

But he was not the only one.

Giorno Giovanna had been his name. His charisma was nearly inhuman, and he had taken their small family by pure force. Was it fair, he wondered, for events to be played out like they were? Narancia wasn't sure, and yet... he still looked up to the blond, despite his youth. How odd.

To recoup from the recent events, among others, Narancia would find himself in the academy's theater, watching an action movie. He couldn't help but think about how boring it was, honestly, as he was just simply not one for cinematic appreciation. One thing that would make him curious, however, was the sound of someone walking in just at the end of the screening. Watching the figure sit at the end of his row... he simply couldn't pay attention to the movie any longer. The moments the lights flickered on, albeit dimly, he found him taking in a sharp breath.

... Giorno...

"... Oh, look who decided to show up!" Bitterness... why did he feel it? He knew damn well the game of this school. Altering memories of loved ones to ensure the greatest amount of despair that could be created. On one hand, he had only known Giorno for just a few days, but... "So you really aren't bullshitting, huh? You don't know who the fuck I am?! Who Buccellati is?!"

intheshadowofdamnation

Wow. Look at all these kids flocking to the infirmary. Better watch out for the man still confined to his cot (the burns on his chest would be paining like a bitch for a long, long time), whose eyes are still locked on a television screen mounted to the wall. The Gnome game recap has since finished, but he can still see himself burning alive while the bear talks over his screaming like some kind of insane sports announcer.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen himself die before, but somehow, it’s a little less tolerable when the version of himself dying isn’t a shapeshifter, and he’s still carrying the wounds of his own demise.

#intheshadowofdamnation #dean 003 #HE IS HERE

He'd spent the last month laying low, lurking in his dorm out of sheer guilt over his companion's death. There were still so may demons that rested in the little hitman's mind, and only more would be added on one fateful day of looking up at the television set, only to see another friend burning.

Dean.

Maybe he should get over himself, he thought. Sulking wasn't going to do anything, was it? That's why, after hours of second-guessing, hours of doubt, he found himself moving through the infirmary, looking for a single patient in particular. Eventually, Narancia would find that man, watching his own demise. He stood for a moment, unsure of what to say. Could he do anything? Anything at all...?!

Desperation and anxieties would pool in Narancia once more, encouraging an action that, in all due respect, was an awful idea. If the hunter didn't know that Narancia was there before, then his presence would surely be announced by his hand gripping a vase that rested on the table next to him. A yell ripped from Narancia's throat as he swung the still-filled ceramic at the screen, damaging its image before water would encourage the image to warp. Dean Winchester was still on the screen, but...

“Hey!! You think sitting here watchin' that's gonna make anything better, you stupid jackass?! Snap out of it!”

... Looks like they're all coming back, huh. Maybe he should poke his head out of his room for once, too.

#despairing muses #his muse... its... alive......

Despite the words of his best friend, Narancia would reach out for help, simply in hopes that there might be some chance to salvage the mentality of that same friend. After all... he had saved Narancia once, hadn't he? Wasn't it about time he return the favor?

He didn't have much time. Even if he was a fool, he knew that much. What he also knew was that he needed help, that this was a task that he couldn't handle Following his conversation with Fugo, his fingers wouldn't stop typing. No, they opened a new message thread. The two people that Narancia trusted most on this God-forsaken island... they had to be able to help, right?

to;; jotaro + buchalaate? from;; narancia

u 2 are the only ppl i can trust w/ this the message fugo sent out... hes lying he told me so, it wasnt regie who attacked him, he did it to himself!! im scared hes not ok what should i do....?

#well. here it is.#platinumstardust #portares

to; narancia twink(a)

from; fugo

i lied. sorry. still have a hole in my abdomen, though dont apologize... i have my reasons for doing this i honestly dont know whether you understand or not but i think this is necessary quite a few people believe me already and im sure theyll be "on the lookout" for "evil murderous vampires" again im sorry and your. probably going to get mad at me

good night narancia. someone is coming to patch me up dont worry about me ill be okay please dont think im crazy dont get into any trouble while im gone... please... ill be avoiding people for a while i hope your OK with that

He really was lying? He has reasons? What the hell was he going on about? For a while, Narancia could only stare at his Monomesenger in disbelief, in confusion... what was he supposed to do? Don't think hes crazy? While he knew that this school could tear away at one's mentality, this was...

If he failed to do something in this moment, the night time he saw Fugo... he might not actually be Fugo. If that happened...

to;; fugo from;; narancia

.... just hang tight ok? im gonna make sure everythings ok i cant do much but ill do something dont worry

ill save you, fugo

#fragolatossico #die

ebonyguts

Send me questions about my character's series

#meme day

to; narancia twink(a)

from; fugo

are you serious? do you think id joke or lie about being stabbed? wow. thank you so much narancia. THANK YOU. really.

Shit. Fuck. He fucked up. Shit. Fugo covers his face with his hands. He’s crying. What has he done? He fucked up. Good job, Fugo.

to;; fugo from;; narancia

no fugo its not like that fugo wait

i didnt mean 2 call u a liar ok? it just dosnt make sense 2 me it dosnt add up...

im sorry

to; narancia twink(a)

from; fugo

but i do have scratches. and a stab wound. i actually stopped bleeding just two hours ago. like in my abdomen. not too deep. im okay. and also he just lost it. and he broke three teacups. it was very scary. im glad i made it out alive actually. i thought i was going to die for real

to;; swiss cheese thongman from;; young money $$$$$ ghirga

... u do?? but... regie wudnt snap like that... he didnt even snap when he betrayed us...

... Was he...?

to;; fugo from;; narancia

... are you lying...?

to; narancia twink(a)

from; fugo

you of all people should believe me that man betrayed us and he deserves to die with his gross vampire family. you know exactly who i mean.

to;; swiss cheese thongman from;; young money $$$$$ ghirga

yeah i no he betrayed us and everithing and it sucked but u and me both no he wuldnt just attack sum1 like that fugo

besids u dont have a scratch on u??? cum on

to; everyone

from; fugo

ATTACHMENT: ASSAULT WEAPON

i was attacked by a blood drinking vampire. he broke a teacup and attempted to attack me with it. vampires are dangerous and cannot be trusted. therefore i believe a vampire is responsible for the death of dean winchester....

#despairing muses #bye dean lol

to;; swiss cheese thongman from;; young money $$$$$ ghirga

dude how fuckin stupid are u u think ane1 is going 2 believe that ur a tool i hate u

#well #fragolatossico

What did he say his title was? Something ironic for the situation... Super High School Level Survivalist...? That's right.

"B... Bullshit... lying jackass..."

Fugo lowers his gaze in shame. It was really stupid of someone like him to even think of this plan, right? Super High School Level Prodigy. Intelligence was measured by test scores, by vocabulary, by general aptitude… but it was still flawed. Fugo was one to be described “unstable”. Even if his IQ was to rocket to 2000, his emotion would still overcome it. His fists would clench and he may even grab ahold of any object close to him. And he’d beat away. There would be no restraint whatsoever.

It reflected in most of his actions since this tragedy began— he went to extremes in his plans, his reactions, just about everything. He didn’t mind blaming himself for things that were out of his control, either. Being away from the air that the mafia embed had rendered him much too reckless… Too reckless for his own good.

Fugo mumbled something in protest, but Narancia had a point. Or so he felt. He had no idea how to apologize for what he’d said, not in words. He simply reached for the elder’s hand and held it gingerly, in fear of inflicting harm.

"I-I’m so tired, Narancia…" he sobbed. "I want to go home… I don’t want to be here any more…" Had he had the energy, he would be throwing a full-blown tantrum, but it was as if all the life was sucked out of him. For the millionth time.

#fugo 006 #fragolatossico

Perhaps Narancia should have taken more care to watch out for the way Fugo carried himself in this sort of situation. Wasn't that normally Buccellati's job? This entire school had shaken their existence, shaken it to a point where the elder of the two wasn't even sure how to fix this. Could it even be fixed anymore? It had to be...

Narancia, though battered, was a determined soul. Even after death had graced him with a visit not once, but twice, the orange simply couldn't stop here. Through death and betrayal, Narancia would try again to raise the younger's spirits.

He was the older one, after all. Wasn't that his job?

The youth paused for a moment at the gentle touch curling around his hand, only to wear a small smile as his own fingers curled around his companion's. Though every joint, every bone, every inch of skin burned with pain, this action would be one that brought Narancia comfort, comfort that he wished to share with his friend a hundred times over.

“Crybaby... hey...” Did he really have room to say that? He, too, felt tears stinging at his eyes. Even then... “I don't wanna be here anymore than you do... but we'll get out, okay? We'll find some way, even if we're on our own. Just you and me, we can do anything, right...? We're too tough for limits...!”

A childish dream, but it was one that Narancia would cling to. No matter how far-off, no matter how far death would visit him, the boy would cling to that one hope that, with the young man who he held onto so dearly, he could accomplish anything.

believeinjustice-blog

Mami didn’t flinch when Narancia reached out and took hold of her collar. Despite the pain that shot through her at being jerked so suddenly just after revival, Mami Tomoe didn’t react at all. If anything, there was little more than sad acceptance on her features. She deserved this. This was her payment for doing what she had done during the trial. It was only fair. It was her that had destroyed his trust, after all. Reiji had to have some other motivation, but Mami’s? Mami’s was merely guilt.

The same guilt that now prompted her not to fight back. Narancia was hurt. He didn’t need to be hurt any further. “I’m not going to fight you.” Despite his yelling, Mami continued to speak in that soft calm tone. “Hit me until it makes you feel better if that’s what you need. I deserve it.” Ah. He thought she was faking. “I do care. If I didn’t care I would not have decided to speak to you.”

What could she say? He was right. He had believed in her and she’d betrayed him. Noting the way he sweated as his body trembled, Mami felt a pang of sympathy in her heart. She was the one who’d done this to him. Without even bothering to attempt to get out of his hold, Mami gazed up at Narancia with little more than a sad smile on her lips. Ah. No one but his family. That meant…

Mami’s hands folded in her lap. Of course. How could someone like her be family after that? She was disgusting. A traitor. Better off dead. “Ghirga-san, you’re not stupid. You’re correct. A person like me should remain alone. After all…” Another sad smile. Finally, Mami dropped her gaze from his own. “I’m not really a champion of justice. I’m not a calm-minded mentor who can operate independently. I’m just a scared girl who hurts everyone around her. I’m a burden, someone who plays at being strong so people won’t hate me. But that didn’t turn out well, did it?”

A rueful smile showed itself briefly before Mami blinked back tears. “Someone like me doesn’t deserve a family or friends. Ghirga-san should seek out people who won’t put him in harm’s way anymore. If you stay around me, you’ll only get hurt. I want Ghirga-san to be safe and happy. You won’t be able to be such things around me. I only ever hurt the people I…” Mami’s voice grew tight, forcing her to stop. It was her fault he’d died. It was her fault their little ‘family’ had been torn apart. It was her fault her parents died while she lived.

I only ever hurt the people I care about.