#;multipara

[ziatotheco]

muteyong

     "You think you can mess with me? You think you can show up here, owing me half the fucking bank of Seoul and beg me to be lenient? What are you, stupid?" Two men are holding the quivering mess of a junky, one fixing each arm and propping him up for Zico to talk to his face. "You know, I can't have people go around and tell each other that I give stuff out for free. Do you know what happens when they do that? Do you know that?"       Grabbing his face, he's not getting a coherent answer out of him, so he grabs it harder, feeling a row of teeth beneath the skin under his thumb. "Speak up already, scum." He hisses. He's seen the panic grow in the junkie's eyes, but didn't reckon with the force of it. He manages to wind out of one of his mens grip and Zico sees the flash of a jack knife – his reflexes work faster than his wits and he twists his hand around by his bony wrist, easily turning the matter around and sinking the blade into the junkie's stomach. The wound isn't too deep, but starts leaking unprettily. "This isn't how I wanted this to end." He grumbles. Dead people mean police, but hurt people mean police and mouthes that can still talk. He turns away. "Finish him off."

      Having turned his back on the guy who's currently being strangled, his eyes fall onto an entirely different, but equally annoying matter. A spectator. A boy, slender, young, probably fresh out of his teens. "Oi. You!" He doesn't even have to ask what he's seen. It's pretty obvious. "Come here!"

[angesansailes-archive]

To save their own life, your character has to kill mine. What would they do?

It’s hard to figure things out when you’ve got a metaphorical gun pointed at your head and someone’s about to pull the trigger and blow your brains out. It’s hard to keep level headed when you know you’re going to die and the only thing you can do to save yourself is destroy someone you care about. Weighing pros and cons was not on the table. There was no question about it. Danny feared death more than he feared anything else, so when he received a note telling him he was marked for death if he didn’t assassinate Angel, he had no hesitations. Well, perhaps he had a few hesitations and a night of drinking and sobbing to himself, knowing there was no option for him. Fear was the driving factor behind his final decision to go through with it.

He bought himself a gun with a silencer, he wanted to make everything quick and painless. No bleeding out in agony, just a shot to the head that would make Angel’s life end swiftly but surely. His hands were jittery when he loaded it for the first time, testing his aim by shooting at his furniture. What would he even say? How would he do it? It took him a long time to come up with a plan, but when he received the note that told him time was running out, he made up his mind in a flash. Like a coward, he’d wait until Angel turned their back to shoot. Maybe he’d take them out to dinner, make it a special night, just to appease his own guilty conscience for his future actions.

Could he really pull the trigger, and why did he consider his life to be more valuable than the life of Angel Del Monaco? Selfish, selfish, selfish, the word repeated and echoed in his mind until he couldn’t take it anymore. He just had to finish the job. The last note told him he had until sunrise to do it. All the night long, he dripped sweat from his forehead, anxiously tapped his nails on tables and fidgeted around. He never said what was wrong, he tried his best not to let it show. At the end of their well-spent evening together, Danny was trying not to cry in the moment he kissed Angel for the last time. He was trying to avoid their gaze, but he looked into their eyes and he faltered.

In the very next second, Danny pulled out the gun. He trained it on Angel for a moment, but in swift action he turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger. Death may have been a frightening experience, but he’d go into the darkness knowing he had done the right thing.

Something was wrong. Something was absolutely, completely wrong and Angel couldn't figure it out for the life of them. Although Daniel seemed to be on the mend, they couldn't help but notice little strange qualities about him that made them question how he was doing it, how he was convincing them that he was alright. After about a week of this, nothing seemed out of place, so, Angel shoved it aside, focusing more on the fact that Daniel was doing well, and getting on more with his life.

When Angel was asked to go out for dinner, they responded with a gleeful smile. Daniel and Angel had yet to go on a real date, or what felt like a real date, and Angel spent at least an hour deciding what they should wear. Choosing something that felt comfortable on them that day, and that would impress Daniel was difficult, but they managed to find it.

All night, though, Daniel seemed distant. Angel would try to tell him a story, only getting a nod or a smile in response. When Daniel did speak, his voice would shake slightly at the beginning of his phrases, and the hesitation to hold Angel's hand across the table only proved that something was up. Angel asked once again, after around a week of not trying to pry into Daniel's business, still ending up with no reason why.

That's why the end of the night came as such a shock. The gun was pulled out, Angel staring down the barrel of it. Tears that had been building as Daniel was trying to explain himself finally flowed down their cheeks, their mascara creating lines down their face due to them. Their hands were shaking, they were pleading for Daniel to put the gun down, to not shoot them. They'd do anything he asked them.

In the next minute, the hotel occupants would have been treated to a scream loud enough to wake the entire block, and when someone finally got to the door, they would find Angel cradling Daniel dead in their arms, with no explanation as to why he would leave them alone.

[blinded-prodigy-blog]

His body was sprawled across the lounge room floor, with nothing but a cushion to keep him comfortable, as he read over a few scrolled, which contained various information on differing lightning-styled jutsu. Then came the sudden weight that pressed against his back, which did come as a startle, at first. That is, until Sasuke stole a side glance, to have onyx hues land of those sharp, defined, and oh-so familiar features. With muscles relaxing, and his body being warmed up by the other’s embrace, Sasuke just laid, for a brief moment; not rolling over to return the gesture, nor voicing any greeting - no - he laid, and just relished in the other’s heat. 

Although, no matter how appealing, and utterly magnifying, his brother was, Sasuke just couldn’t let his feelings really come into light. No, he knew it was wrong - so direly w r o n g and repulsive to yearn for the touches of his own flesh and blood. To want to take more, for himself, than most brothers would dear to have. And there was always that lingering fear of rejection, that Sasuke had, ever since he was a child. Those anxious feelings, of course, have dwindled over the years - but he had always been scared of going over Itachi’s boundaries, and having the man drift away from him. 

So, with those last thoughts, the only recognition the teen gave to his brother was that of a slight hum, that vibrated through his throat, before he returned back to his previous activity. Of course, though, still melting under his brother’s presence, and feeling utterly content in the late afternoon. 

         "Why so quiet?" The raven asked, a hot breath cloaking over his brother's neck, steamy words enshrouded the adolescent male. Seeing that his pheromones were greatly affecting the little Uchiha who steadily focused on his work. He was a bit tired of enacting his daily duties as a member of the special assassination force namely the ANBU. Seeing his brother being an aspiring shinobi to his name have him some sort of pride. Itachi loved studious and determined people above all, that had drawn himself to Shisui. At the sight of his brother being that of his cousin, Itachi was rather allured by the odd action. 

        Liquid slowly dripped from the temple of the male, his body warm with excretions of sweat. Itachi had been keeping his body in shape, despite not having the means of using it. Dark fabric soaked in his own salty sweat had pressed upon the toned back of his brother, chest feeling the sharp bones of his shoulder blades slightly prod on his torso. Itachi's eyelids drooped a bit, as his pupils gazed lustfully on the ivory neck that he had been glazing over. A bulge of saliva forced down his throat as his own body heat was being taken over by his captive, seeing that his blood has been rushing to all parts of his body. 

         The need for Itachi to hold someone he loved so close was normal.. being alone in that house, only being called upon by the police force when needed. He thought it selfish, that Sasuke did all the work, and he relaxed in their humble abode. It might've been that he had just missed the younger Uchiha, as to why his current actions were that of mere lust than love. Or a mix of both, an admittance that he needed Sasuke to stay sane was out of the question. For he did not want to believe that this was lust, but merely brotherly love. What a selfish fool he has become.

         One lone leg wrapped around the other's, expanding more warmth towards that one limb. A chiseled chin laid upon the male's shoulders as he pitted ear against ear, slightly resting on his head as he used it as his own comforter. He had missed Sasuke so much. 

         "Sasuke.." a lone whisper, but held so much emotion in one phrase, especially his own name. The mere reverberation of that word sent chills down the prodigy's spine as his eyes slowly closed in mere satisfaction. "Take a break... once and a while. Don't.. wear yourself.. out." a concerned and broken statement slowly exited from his mouth.