#ca drabble

     HEAPS of neon decorated flyers flutter to the city streets from whatever dropped them for the sky as it darted past. Upon picking one up, it’s revealed to be a copy of those flyers peppering every flat surface they’ll stick to bordering the sidewalks. It reads,

『                                        RETAIL SELF-CARE                                    ﹃

     Are you looking to ruin your sleep schedule?      Do you crave free food?      How far can you throw a car?*      Do you love music playing over an intercom?      We're ordering pizza.

     Come to the abandoned mall in downtown Sector oo5 on Sunday 6/10         to celebrate you and your fellow citizens keeping it together in this               dump of a city. We've got two karaoke to protect those who don't want to           perish over it. Free food, that's all we can promise. Bring your strong friends.

     *You'll be asked to sign a legal waiver at the door**      **Star Platinum is hosting and will have visual confirmation of all those who         attend. You can sneak in but he will find you and he will make you sign that         thing.

﹄                                                                                                                   』

*:・ﾟ☆

ooc info under the cut

A familiar sound fills the hallway as he continues up the stairs. Clair de Lune echos off of the walls, pushing memory after memory into Lars’ head with every crescendo, lulling them back out with every decrescendo. He closes his eyes and allows himself to exist in the moment, breathing in the stale scent of old wooden bookshelves and rotting books, now covered in dust. His father’s fingers trail over the keys delicately, beautifully. The music swells as he arpeggiates and trills the notes gently, bringing life to the black shapes on paper. 

And then Lars’ eyes slowly open, the music fades. The dust remains, as does the empty study; the piano covered haphazardly with a sheet, unprotected from the elements. Likely octaves out of tune from lack of care. Lars sighs and continues down the hall. “Mother.” He calls out for her, announcing his arrival despite the dogs’ already doing so. “Mother!!” He pushes open the double doors to her room and shouts one more time, “MOTHER!” but is drowned out by the steady, rhythmic beeping of a monitor nearby. His mother, sitting in a hospital bed connected to tubes and IV lines. Her heartbeat continues to beat out a steady rhythm, ringing in Lars’ ears. Beep. Beep. Beep. 

She slowly blinks her eyes open. Her gaze is far away and drowned by tears. Not from sorrow, no. She is a strong woman to the end, and she would never dare to let him see her showing weakness. Him, her own son. She coughs, and her eyes water further. She motions him closer with a waggle of her finger and he obeys reluctantly. What he wouldn’t give to run away here and now. Run away and never look back. But his feet are out of his control, and he steps forward. Step. Step. Step. Beep. Beep. Beep. He grabs her hand, small and frail and weak, and looks down at his mother. The one who raised him. The powerful head of The Belt. “Lawrence...” she rasps, “do you understand why I am so hard on you, my son?” He leans closer so that he can hear her whispers. The beeping of the monitor almost drowns her out. “It is... it is because...” He squeezes her hand. 

“It is because you’re such a fucking disappointment.”

She coughs and blood splatters across the sterile sheets of her bed and stain her pure gown. Appropriate for her. But then she begins to seize. Her grip tightens on Lars’ hand, almost hurting at this point. And her mouth begins to foam as pink-tinged spittle falls from her lips. The monitor goes faster. Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Lars is pushed aside by the triage team, fighting to bring her back. But he knows she’s gone. He could see it in her eyes. He steps backwards, blinking hard to stop the tears from falling and showing his weakness. He turns and steps through the door to the room and

“This happens about every month or so.” “I just stay at my mother’s while the house repairs itself.” “This is the first time I’ve seen you trying to help. This must be new to you, huh kid?”

Hell, the NPCs seemed to want to comfort Anda more than the other way around (likely because of the tears...) Most were generally grateful for the help, like an elderly lady thanking a child for helping her cross a road. No casualties were reported. It was all so... heartbreakingly routine for everyone, if the ankle-deep sea of sorrow said anything about it.

As the shuttle buses came to transport the temporarily deposed, Anda joined them, hitching a ride to Vario before slouching into the sheltered bench stop. Soaked, reeking of fire, soot staining the cuffs of their jeans...

The clock on the wall ticked rhythmically, one of the only sounds breaking through the silence of the office. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Nahyuta picks up the stack of papers they had been going through, tapping the pages on their desk to even them out before standing up to retrieve the stapler from on Klavier’s desk. The shuffle of paper. The noise of their chair against the floor. Their footsteps. The sound of the stapler being picked up, used, and set down again. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It’s late. Far too late for anyone to be in the office at this time. Outside, though, they see the occasional lights of cars passing by the office. Rarely, the silence is shattered by the sirens of the police next door. That hasn’t happened yet tonight, which they’re grateful for.

The office itself is very dimly lit, in fact, the sole source of light inside is the lamp on Nahyuta’s desk they had been using to read. They move closer to the light, picking up the file folder, tucking the newly stapled pages inside before heading into the records room to file it properly.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The familiar noise of opening the filing cabinet seems so much louder when they’re alone in the office in the middle of the night. Once the file is properly placed, they close the drawer again before returning to their desk. 

There really isn’t much else for them to do, now that they’ve finished with that file, but they still sit back at their desk, sorting through the papers left scattered there by a certain “rock star” prosecutor. They suppose they could return to their apartment for the night, but they don’t know how much sleep they would even get. Sleep seemed so elusive to them in this city, so often plagued by nightmares. There is a couch upstairs for them to take a nap on...

They glance up at the clock on the wall idly, wondering if they were to sleep on the couch in Prosecutor Edgeworth and Mr. Wright’s office how much sleep they would get when they realize with a jolt that it’s...12:01.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

May 28th. 

“Ah...it’s my birthday.”

The year is supposedly 2018, so they’re honestly not any older. They’re not sure how time works in this city regardless, so they don’t want to begin speculating how aging might or might not work.

Glancing at the calendar on their desk, they wonder (with a small twinge in their chest) if anyone would even remember or know (and if they even wanted anyone to celebrate it anyway). Apollo likely did, but... Their relationship hadn’t been the most pleasant upon their reunion in the city.

With a sigh, Nahyuta stands up again, deciding that is an issue they will deal with later. For now, they’re going to try meditating (and perhaps sleeping) on the couch in the Edgeworth-Wright office. Hopefully no one will find them there tomorrow morning before they’ve had their coffee. 

It’s a bit weird, actually seeing snow for once in his life, but he’s been getting used to it. In all his life, he never really had gotten to actually see snow before living in Hive City. Back in his time, it had just been too warm in most places for snow to even fall. It wasn’t like it completely didn’t exist, but the way global warming had kept things relatively warm throughout most of the year, there were very few places that got it.

The nautilus grabs out a handful of chips from the bag in his lap. Like everything else on the blanket, they’re spiral shaped. He can hardly even remember where he got these curled up chips. Almost everything that he’d found with that spiral shape ended up being some pastry and it was almost overbearing.

The point was to have spiral foods, but it seemed like places hardly sold more than spiral-shaped sweets. There were cinnamon rolls, crescent rounds, sushi rolls, little spiral cakes, and the chips, and so on. He has some of cinnamon swirl bread and butter in the small cooler he also brought, but it’s hard to call that much different from the other foods he’s brought.

Still.

Since the night of his parents’ murder, Travis Touchdown hadn’t been hugged even once. Since the night he stepped out alone into the kill-or-be-killed streets of Santa Destroy, Travis Touchdown had never felt the embrace of another human being. He’d never been a huge cuddle-bug, but living almost 15 years without anyone caring enough to wrap their arms around you?

It was tough.

Or, it would be tough. For anyone else, that is. But this was Travis fucking Touchdown, #1 badass! He didn’t need hugs, he needed SEX! I mean, friends could give him high-fives. But none of that mushy shit.

He didn’t need it.

Big. Small. They're all heavy together, these baby looking horrors that swarmed him tearing at his flesh where ever they can find it on the Stand, sapping him of his strength. Giving up here would be easy, allowing his doubts to justify why being eaten alive is what he deserves. Too bad he likes to be difficult. Being in this dump sucks worse than anything he's ever gone through. It's unyielding torture of a highly personal kind but it doesn't change how driven he is about what he cares about most.

Tiny claws slash at his nose and he thinks about Jotaro putting the origami butterfly he'd folded for the boy into his coat pocket rather than throwing it out. He thinks those nights spent sharing hotel rooms with Mr.Polnareff and chatting while he spent like an hour getting ready for bed while one the size of a wolf wrenches at his leg. Dozens of them gnawing at his arms can't keep away the nights in the desert where everyone had fallen asleep mid-conversation except for Kakyoin and he'd talk to Star Platinum as if he were any of the other Crusaders. The long car rides where their dire situation was forgotten in favor of heated arguments about the quality of the Tron movie. Dr.Kujo and him getting hotboxed right before Fight Club and spending the entire night laying on each other on the couch. Okuyasu with him squatting outside the convenient store talking about starting fights with the shitheads across the street and instead they talk about lifehacks for three hours. Relentlessly tormenting Badou. The World bringing him dinner no matter how many times he smacked it out of his hands. Koichi taking the time to interpret his convoluted emoji text messages. Mr.Avdol unwavering patience when it came to explaining anything or anything except intimacy. Gyro breaking into song and dance with him apropos of nothing.

Quaking with the effort of staying upright, there's the suggestion of an urge coming on, like when Jotaro needs to sneeze. Only it's nothing to do with the claw marks on his nose. The feeling grows more intense the closer his knee comes to hitting the pavement. If it touches down, he's finished. He won't be able to get back up. It's unbearable now. He can't take it. He's gotta dance right now.

Roaring his battle cry with the effort, he twirls into the air and grows lighter with each pirouette as the gremlins peal off him. They cower away from the light that Star Platinum has become and scatter to get out of the way of his heavy landing. He can feel himself shifting changing into something new as his feet move to a tune suddenly filling the air and where his hands pass over skin he can feel cloth blooming there. With a final pose and a shower of sparkles, he's whole again and he feels like a fucking Stand again for the first time since the Fragmentation incident.

White silk gloves trimmed with lace encase his fists, gold studs lining the knuckles. It matches the gold start embellishments on his turquoise skirt, hot pink accents popping here and there. His poofy sleeves are short to keep from blowing out when he flexes, but the skirt goes all the way down past his knees. The boots stay. The circlet stays. His change in outfit is acknowledged at best. He's busy

Knocking his knuckles together sparks a light that jars what brave monsters stuck around for the show. That flinch is when he gets one of them by the throat and squeezes until the light turns them ash billowing out of his hand, other fist hammering the next into dirt.

❝ ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA ❞

Sasuke entered the animal shelter with a goal. ‘Cat...cat’ He was greeted by one of the staff with a friendly smile. “Welcome! Are you here to adopt or just..browsing?” “I’m looking for a cat.” “Ohhh! Well then!” The woman beamed, and motioned for Sasuke to follow her into the Cat Room. “Take a look, and come find me if you decide on someone!” After the woman left, Sasuke directed his attention to the many cat cages before him. 

All of the cats were cute of course, but none of them really struck a cord with Sasuke. Most of them were young kittens. They stood a better chance of getting adopted rather than the older ones. Those were the cats Sasuke began to focus in on. One older black cat in particular caught Sasuke’s attention.

She was obese and laying in the back of her cage, unlike the other cats who were meowing and rubbing against the bars. He glanced at the note on the cat’s cage. ‘Approx 7+ years old , Spayed Female, Black and White , NOT good with small children , ‘ 

“Hm.” After thinking for a moment, Sasuke left the room to let the staff attendant know he had found his new cat. The woman immediately sprung up and grabbed a few papers for Sasuke to sign before running off to get the cat. She was a little surprised that this cat was finally getting a home, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even when placed in the cardboard carrier the cat didn’t make much noise or a fuss.

“Okaay here we...are!” The woman struggled slightly to lift the carrier onto the counter. “Have you decided on a name?”  She peered over the paperwork that Sasuke was still signing. “...Kibo.” “Ah-- ...OH? That is a cute name..” Sasuke regarded her compliment with a slight shrug, then he slid the papers her way. “Thank you.” He grabbed the carrier and started for the door. 

“Oh! Wait--!” The woman called after Sasuke and briskly walked towards him with a plastic bag. “We give all our first time adopters a starting bag!” She grinned and then gave Sasuke a pat on the head. “Take good care of her okay?”  Sasuke flinched slightly at her touch and let out a sigh. “Yeah, thank you, again.” Now, finally he was able to leave the shelter with a new fat cat in hand.