lytiphile moved

[lytiphile-a]

btw i have the same url, i’m still @lytiphile ok ily guys

[lytiphile-a]

btw i have the same url, i’m still @lytiphile ok ily guys

[lytiphile-a]

btw i have the same url, i’m still @lytiphile ok ily guys

[lytiphile-a]

this blog is an archive now i'm moving due to the stupid amount of clutter here and i need to redo things lol

[lytiphile-a]

[  scrinja  ]

        his nose wrinkles when the smell is caught by his nose, but he knows it’s to be expected of someone that had been down there for too long, without a shower. he even considers on doing this more often if the other continues to behave ; the way that he clung to him without hesitation, led him to believe that would be the case. there was no fighting back,

          as the two of them reach the first floor, he exits the closet with mattia in arms and heads outside the main bedroom to the bathroom,  carefully settling the blond down to rest against the bathtub while he removed his own shirt. he’d rather avoid getting it damped.

          his eyes trail from his facial features to his crotch, fingers reaching for the hem of his underwear to remove it. no matter how gentle he was at doing so, it would undoubtedly hurt when it was pulled from his legs and tossed to the side. he’d have to find something else to give him while he washed those…

       “—you will wash yourself, okay? make it quick.” as he says that, two bottles are placed on the ground besides him. one of shampoo and the other of liquid soap. seeing it would be impossible to get him inside the bathtub to do this, sangwoo grabs the shower head and turns on the water, starting with the blond hair. the pressure of it may be too harsh, but he couldn’t be bothered to change it. his generosity wasn’t there quite yet. “—you were starting to reek down there. i’m surprised you didn’t complain once.”

he does as sangwoo tells him.

never once does the pain in his ankles wane, but between the torrent of water over his head and its swiftly heating temperature, pooling around him on the tile, he’s able to ignore it in favor of the stimuli of the shower.

indifferent to being stripped nude outside the tense hiss when the filthy cloth pulls away from his legs holds back no ounce of the discomfort, even drowned out by the running water. 

he’s damn near forgotten what clean feels like when he reaches for the soap to scrub away dirt and sweat and god knew whatever else accumulated on him in the cold, damp basement. with a deliberate care, he washes the angry rash on his upper arms, the limp blonde of his hair, the planes of his face and what he can reach of his legs.

it’s not until he’s exhausted himself his pale spine meets the porcelain tub, lips half parted whilst he finds his voice.  “ i’m done. ”

[lytiphile-a]

matties birthday is oct 29 because i said so, hes a halloween baby

[lytiphile-a]

[  scrinja  ]

    to be met with kindness, left him staring in awe at the blond. he could tell this wasn’t an act, and that was what intrigued him so much about him. it made him wonder if he was used to this kind of treatment, that he became so docile—someone like his own mother, whose voice was soft when it was directed to her husband, even after she was beaten down.

    the nature of the question makes him chuckle, before he places the can of porridge and the spoon on the table nearby. he stood tall, towering over mattia’s limp body with a mild tilt of his head as he stared down at him. his smile never leaving his lips.

   “—well, obviously. you look like a ragged doll.” he comments, crouching down to get rid of the chains that kept him by the wall and wrap his arms around him, in an attempt to pick him up. “—hold on tight. you don’t have an excuse for your arms.”

the warmth of another person, even one who’d brutally injured him, is welcome. against cool skin, heat is nothing short of blissful, relief obvious in the slow close of both eyes.

a shallow exhale, a sigh into sangwoo’s neck precedes mattia all but resting his chin on the other’s shoulder, contact almost strengthening his grasp around his neck. as he’s lifted, the shift sends an aggressively painful sensation up both legs, and his teeth find his lip to muffle what might’ve been a haggard gasp.

rather than press short nails ( pink, painted, blunt ) into sangwoo’s skin, mattia opts to dig them into his own arms, tensing against the flood of agony that suddenly wells in his ankles. he forces himself to remember it’ll pass.

[lytiphile-a]

‌[  scrinja  ]

      satisfaction can be seen in the way his expression softens, and hollow eyes appear to gain a glint in them. he could’ve spent hours studying his victims face and decided whether what he said was true or not, but something about the way he said it made him consider it as truth.

       how peculiar, he thinks. despite everything he has been put through, mattia still offers a smile—no matter how weak—at his captor. it was a sign he hadn’t seen before, not without some ulterior motive like trying to convince him to take mercy upon them. no, this guy was different. it was almost as if he was inviting him to get closer, to do whatever he had in storage for him and get it over with. his smile didn’t seem to be of gratitude, but rather of acceptance. it was truly fascinating to meet someone different.

    “—mattia.” he repeats, savouring his name in the tip of his tongue. the way it rolled off it felt oddly natural, despite being far from the kind of names he was used to calling. something about that name felt right. “—you actually ate! i didn’t think you would, but i’m impressed. guess you’ve earned a bath. what do you say?”

it’s difficult to help the brows that raise to hide in his bangs, the slight drop in his jaw that conveys not fear, but surprise. he’d assumed it was a false promise, given the state of his legs.

“ i’d appreciate one, ”  it’s a full sigh, against the wall’s support, a touch of exhaustion driving his voice into something soft.  the palpation of his heart against his chest is so shallow and rapid with the introduction of food into his body he feels ready to faint. 

there’s a daring lilt in his tone, and blunt nonetheless-- it’s sheer practicality, at this point, and it’s written in the peacefully drawn line of his mouth as he looks up into his captor’s amused expression.

“ how is this going to work? ”  and by work,  he means functionally, gesturing down to the broken twisted ankles, all pale and ugly in their chains, and honestly, he’s a little relieved to find himself so characteristically dry.  “ i’m not sure i can walk like this. ”

[lytiphile-a]

‌[  schismania  ]

      The ‘joke’ was lost on him, barely even noting the slight change in his cellmate’s tone until he switched it back to his usual one. For a moment, Anasui wonders if he’s being mocked—if Mattia is actually aware of his feelings and decided not to acknowledge them by acting so indifferent. The uncertainty had become the reason he struggled to sleep at night ; gaze shifting from the blond resting his head on his shoulder and the mattress of the bed above them. His mind filled with various thoughts that prevented him from getting any rest.

       He stares at his cellmate for a minute too long before nodding, and getting up from his seat to join him by the door of the cell. His stare still lingering on his face, even when he looked away.   “—We would need to be really lucky… to be just the two of us.”

on a metric of luck, all things considered, mattia would say it’s granted them some mercy.

with a later hour of the afternoon on their side, the cafeteria is only sparsely populated, with convicts sitting in small groups with generous space on all sides to be occupied by single inmates. even with the food picked over and little left, mattia prefers this quiet to the chaos of the popular lunchtimes. 

“ are you sure you don’t want to eat, baby? ”  he’ll ask again to be certain, emphasizing his point with the brush of his hand on anasui’s,  “ i can bring some toast if you’re not feeling well. you should have something, at least. ”

[lytiphile-a]

[  scrinja  ]

     there’s no real response, at least not one that he was expecting. either this guy wasn’t fully grasping the situation he found himself to be, or he simply lacked of survivor instinct. by now, anyone would’ve begged him to be spared—to be given a second chance at life with the promise of not contacting the police. as if he would ever believe that… every girl was the same. he had done well in switching things up by seeking for a different kind of partner ; someone that wouldn’t be missed by anyone, as they appeared to live in this city on their own. sangwoo could tear him apart and nobody would give a fuck because he was a hooker. it was more likely for the police to forget about the case and leave it to be forgotten. that was made him ideal.

     to be thanked was a novelty. the previous girls would rather cuss at him even if that quickened their death, then swallow their pride. he almost made a comment about it, something along the lines of ‘thanks for what? i broke your legs’, but he lets it slide. instead, he focuses on something that might’ve seemed inconsequential. the indignation in his voice emphasized by the frown he gave the other.  “—well? i told you my name. aren’t you going to tell me yours?” how rude. before he gave the other a moment to respond, he speaks again, picking up the spoon with the last bit of porridge to accusatory point at the blonde.  “—and don’t you lie to me. i hate being lied to.”

a careful, rattling breath breaks his silence. he’s holding one card, or one and a half, and those sit ever more precarious by the second. 

if both were using aliases, it seems they’re only now meeting.

“ .. it’s mattia. ”  and it is, it has been, for the last decade. it’s right there on his birth certificate ( if he has one ), and if not, it hardly matters.  a smile turns the edge of pale, chapped lips, and he wonders on a fleeting whim if he’d ever say summer again. 

he decides not to.

vacant smile never escaping him, even drawing a very hint of light into his eye, mattia leans in to take the last bite of porridge from the spoon, swallows, and lays back against the cold of the wall, embracing the stark difference to the numbing pain in both ankles and spreading warmth from the sad excuse for a meal.

[lytiphile-a]

[  schismania  ]

    But how could he possibly think of eating in this state, when it was almost certain that he’d end up feeling nauseous the longer he spent in the other’s presence. With how dismissive his response was, Anasui’s mind began to spiral into madness with various questions such as ‘what if it means nothing to him?’ or ‘will i get hurt again?’. They had shared bed, shared their warmth, wasn’t that supposed to mean something? Then why was it that his cellmate acted so casual? He couldn’t be the only one feeling this way… he refused to believe that.

     “—I’m not hungry.” He informs, staring down to the ground while he attempts to ease his mind but to no avail. The feeling was eating him inside out. “—Do you want me to go with you?”

“ yeah, c’mon. let’s go on a cafeteria adventure, ”  dry humor’s evident in all the exaggeration behind the roll of one eye, in the beckoning gesture of a lithe hand on limp wrist.  “ we’ll see what they have to offer us. ”

but he’ll pause a moment, voice losing its sardonic lilt with its volume, concern mostly in the furrow of his brow as he lingers near the cell door. propping it open with one hand, he considers whether anasui’s genuinely lost his appetite, or if he’s been taken up by one of the quieter moods mattia’s observed over the past couple of months sharing a cell with him. 

" hopefully it’ll be a little empty, ”  mattia speculates, absently rubbing at his face, nudging the door open enough he can slip into the hallway, still in view of his cellmate.  “ at least, empty enough to sit at real tables. ”

[panecline]

[youngtrauma]

i question it alot.

[lytiphile-a]

[  musaesidereum  ]

Fugo’s lips pursed, eyeing Melone warily. “… Bruno isn’t a capo.” Yet. It was only a matter of time before Bruno would achieve such a status, considering Polpo’s sudden death and Bruno’s intention on retrieving Polpo’s money. Considering the Assassins’ discontent, which had been obvious enough to have disseminated as widespread fact among Passione, rather than quiet rumours.

“As I’ve said, he wishes to forge an alliance with your group. The exact details of which he wants to discuss specifically with your capo.” His lips twisted into a slight frown. They were constantly going around in circles–and he didn’t want to spend any more time to suss out Melone’s intentions, not when he was starting to itch with anxiety at being out in the open, vaguely hinting about things such as treason.

“We’re both here to assess each other’s intentions. Bruno–we want protection for our own reasons, and are willing to exchange it for land. I’m not here as a negotiator. That would be up to Bruno, and your capo’s, discretion.”

wasn’t this going pleasantly.

mel chews his gum thoughtfully, emphasizing consideration only through an almost sarcastic pop of a bubble between his molars. the click resonates in the way his lip pulls, his eye rolls--  certainly, the kid is serious.  certainly, and perhaps more significantly, risotto will be interested.

“ would you like my analysis of your intention, then? ”  fugo might take it seriously or sardonically, for the smirk slides off his expression with an almost mischievous ease.  best arrange the next meeting swiftly, before anyone notices the two young men seemingly engaged in casual conversation in a food court booth. “ .. take a walk with me, baby.  there’s a store i want to look at .. they had a display full of those little tomodachi things. ”

[lytiphile-a]

[  schismania  ]

      There’s no response. At least, not immediately. Anasui continues to stare even when he’s asked about it, only for the last comment to finally snap him out of his trance. He blinks a couple of times, trying to focus on the way his cellmate looking at him with what appeared to be slight concern. His heart was drumming fast, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. And here he thought he wouldn’t fall again.

      “—Ah…” When he opens his mouth, only a sounds comes out from it. The words failed to form, and he’s left staring at the other dumbfounded. Anasui could feel his anger grow at his inability to speak about it. His expression hardened if only for a moment. “—Yeah, everything is good.”

" mmkay, then, ”  an idleness creeps its way into the little acknowledgement, indicative only of how easily he’ll push the concern away.  as someone who prefers to check out for most of his waking hours, mattia assumes, he’d do well to afford others the same courtesy.

rising, yawning, and stretching in the same slinking motion, he closes babyface and tucks it under the pillow on the bottom bunk, concealing the mundane excuse for a stand beneath the well-washed fabric.  “ i’m gonna go down and get lunch .. d’you want me to bring anything back?  granted they’re serving something edible, of course. ”

[lytiphile-a]

[  ncncuranza  ]

“Oho.. all mine? I’m blessed.” He addressed first, debating if he wanted to go out and interact with the civilians or stay in and mindlessly sleep the time away with the fox in human form nestled in his arms. The latter was so very tempting, but he could always suggest as such when they got back.

“Mhm.. if you’ve wanted t’check out t’at place, baby, we can go.” Formaggio absentmindedly turns his head, lips catching the side of Melone’s, as if he could smother the pout away in affection. “One condition: I’m driving.”  

Of course he’d never pass up an opportunity to ride Melone’s bike. He wanted one of his own some day.

“ mmkay, if you insist, ”  if anything, mel’s pout morphs itself into a smirk as he kisses back, leaving a pale, glossy print on formaggio’s cheek, barely visible even in low light.  almost gracefully, he pulls himself away from the couch and onto his feet, giving a little stretch before all but slinking out the door.

mel keeps his bike in perfect condition.  pride’s evident in the care he takes mounting it whilst gesturing formaggio over, but clearer still in the keys dangling from a brilliantly neon chain clasped between two fingers.  “ only if you promise not to crash her, ”   the taunt’s emphasized when his tongue slips between his teeth, wholly childish.

[lytiphile-a]

[  inevitableshott  ]

a starter for @lytiphile

“Melone!” 

      A single hand closes the door behind him. The lack of light made seeing quite impossible and moving through the darkness could result in not only Mista tripping over himself but spilling the coffees held in the cupholder all of him. Not the way he wanted to start the night. This is when Five appears with a whimper. “Over here, Mi—sta.” following his Stands shaky voice, Mista reaches over to flick on a light switch. 

       It didn’t help too much, the light flicked on in a low blue, but it would be enough to navigate. “Mel, come on dude, we got work to do.” it was tedious, to say the least. For usually around this time Mista would be kicked up in bed catching a few z’s. But of course, Rissoto wanted this CEO  taken care of before the sun came up. Collecting Melone was a norm but he just wanted to get this over with.

       After scanning the cluster-fuck of a room and still not seeing his cohort, Mista sighed. “Melly, for the love of God…” he didn’t want to kick around Melone’s organized mess, thus why he hasn’t even moved past walking inside, “Don’t make me drink both these coffee’s. I don’t need my aim jittery.”not that would impair his shot. “Sides, I hate how you like your shit.”

" i’m here, i’m here, ”  a gentle peal of laughter issues from behind a pile of unsorted laundry, and the very man in question draws himself upright into a sitting position to rest against the wall, cigarette in hand and a default mischief written all over his face.

one lithe hand reflexively pushes his hair back where it’s fallen whilst its opposite reaches and makes a playful grabbing motion for the coffee.  “ double sugar, no cream? ”  the confirmation comes on a snicker as melone swings his legs off the mattress and tucks his laptop beneath his arm. 

” don’t tell me-- ris wants us there and back by dawn, so i’ve got to move my ass, ”  he teases, though he’s fully aware not only of the assignment but its target, and, in his own words, has done his homework.  as he weaves between the clutter occupying most of the floorspace, he snatches up a pair of sneakers, slipping them on whilst pulling on a light jacket.  “ d’you want the helmet, or are we taking a ride on the wild side tonight? ”