#fatenegato

[starsoveratlas-a]

fatenegato replied to your post: winefilth replied to your post: ...

Giorno — ti amo.

Deep breath... And he wraps his arms around Trish, tucks his head against her for just a second. He’s shaking. A lot, in fact. He hoped that his conversation with Abbacchio would go better than that.

But, it did not. 

“Sor-sorry, Trish.” And pulls away as if he hadn’t hugged her at all. That’s a bad idea, Giorno shouldn’t do that. He should certainly ask permission first, if he’s going to. “Sorry.”

[twofoldsoul-blog]

@fatenegato

Doppio stood silently, uncomfortably still. His phone was in his hand that hung limply by his side. Orders echoed through his mind and he felt sick. 

It will be easy. She trusts you.

He never even got the chance to try and convince him. So choked up by the sudden decision, he hadn’t been able to respond, to vouch for her. He’d failed her. And now he was faced with a choice. A choice between the only two people he had ever and would ever love.  And he had to be quick about it. Trish was in another room... 

His phone clattered on the ground and his knees his the floor moments after it. He didn’t know what to do.

[mxltobene]

@fatenegato

“I wonder, tesoro mio, will you answer my questions?” Melone circled Trish slowly. His gaze was predatory, no part of her form left unstudied. 

“Firstly, do you know who we are? If you do, you’ll understand the situation you’re in. If not..” He trailed off slowly. He didn’t want to threaten such a beautiful woman, but what was left unsaid hung in the air.

[faselunare]

fatenegato replied to your post “fatenegato replied to your post “Mista’s grounded. ” im fucking...”

But Bruno, I have to know -- what is your house?

“...Pardon...?” He feels like he’s walking into something here.

[insatiablelustforpower]

fatenegato replied to your post “fatenegato replied to your post “Ass or tits?” Yes. “Can’t start an...”

You sure let your sense of style go....

“You...”

“BITCH!!!!!”

[musaesidereum]

@fatenegato (x)

Such innocent excitement... it was all too apparent upon Trish’s face, but Diavolo had never considered emotion as anything detrimental. There would be no one to take advantage of such an outward display--she would soon learn that anonymity was the most powerful shield one could have.

It wasn’t a question of whether she was ready, so much as whether she was willing. And Diavolo knew, as surely as he knew that she was his daughter, that she would follow in his footsteps. "Temper your expectations, my Trish,” he said. “Come with me. You will learn when you’re with me--and you’ll lose what fear that you have of the unknown.”

She would learn that Diavolo was the unknown that everyone dreaded.

[purplehazedistorted]

fatenegato replied to your post “You know what I like about Fugo’s portrayal in the manga, the one...”

puts leggy on him and trish should bond sometime they have more in common than they realize

You have no idea how much I love the idea of them becoming friends post-PHF though. 

So much of PHF kicked him in the ass and forced Fugo out of the headspace his childhood put him. Between losing Bucciarati, Narancia and Abbacchio, befriending Sheila E, finally, totally understanding human connections. Fugo only ever lost one person in his life, his grandmother. He never had a bond with anyone else in his life. When it came to Bruno and the others, he loved them but he never let anyone in after his grandmother’s passing, because he didn’t know how to deal with that hurt.

He thought being distant would make it hurt less, but it made it all that much worse. No matter what he does, he loses. So he had to figure it out again. He’s in a fragile state, Sheila is so much easier to understand than most other people in his life had been. He cares about her so quickly, it’s so much faster and easier than any other instance of it in his life. And when he understood those things, why Sheila had become so important to him so fast... God it was so good.

And now he has to take what he’s learned and put it into action. Only, he’s so goddamn scared of getting close to Mista and Giorno, because even after Giorno tells him otherwise he’s still so deeply caught up in the idea that everyone is mad at him. Most of all, he’s afraid Bucciarati is mad at him. That Narancia is mad at him for not getting in the water with him. He’s not afraid Abbacchio is mad, because he’s absolutely certain Abbacchio is. 

Trish is the easiest of all of them to try and befriend again. Because he knows now that Narancia cared about her. He knows there must be something, if Narancia of all people cared, she had to give a shit about someone other than herself. And even with all his bad memories of her, even with how he was angry at her for six months he stops blaming her for everything that happened. 

And he sits down, stares Trish in the eyes and just. Apologizes. Apologizes for not giving her more of a chance. Apologizes for not getting on the boat, for being angry at her for the past six months. In the end, part of him blames himself because it’s only natural to blame himself because he lived her life before. Being afraid, having no one to turn to, but in the end he didn’t recognize it in her until it was too late.

And it’s just- God. It’s so good Midi.

[suozagaraarchive]

@fatenegato

☁ The plastic stench of his mask was still infinitely more welcome then the fetid atmosphere of Earth.

It had all gone to hell. Not that this was an unexpected turn of events; humanity had been draining all available resources at an alarming rate for decades now. The day where this world could no longer heal from its plague had finaly arrived. Earth was dying, you could feel its decay in the air. The only thing keeping Narancia from inhaling that stench was the standarized mask handed out to civilians.

He swallowed thick mouthfuls of air as he ran, keeping by the shade as he’d always done, sneaking through passages which were tried and true over the years. He skirted past the trash heaps which no one cared to gather anymore, hurrying down the streets and all the shut doors and windows. His feet carried him today with more urgency than ever before, coming to an abrupt halt at the side of a closed butcher’s shop. From there, he could see the walls which surrounded the prestigious Naso estate. More importantly, he could see the window and balcony of the leftmost room of the second floor of the manse.

Readjusting the knapsack he’d brought with himself - only the essentials, he had no space for anything aside from what he absolutely couldn’t leave behind - Narancia plucked from his pocket a battered old phone. The broken screen wasn’t a deterrent to him as he typed out his messages.

MSG: im at the meetup. how long for you?

He focused on swallowing back his insecurities as he waited for a response.