@spectrator
  âWhat do you say?â he asks, moments after the music takes a slower pace, and offers a hand to the other. He doesnât realize how sweaty his hands are. He smiles regardless.
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  @spectrator
  âWhat do you say?â he asks, moments after the music takes a slower pace, and offers a hand to the other. He doesnât realize how sweaty his hands are. He smiles regardless.

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@spectrator
  Short fingers tugged at sleeve hems, bright yet anxious eyes darted toward the sole path through the park that led to this spot. For a short moment, Dipper wonders if he shouldnât make contact with the text conversation pulled up on his phoneâs screen. This was definitely the time, definitely the place. Dipper had checked hundreds of times. Heâd confirmed it with the other boy dozens more.
  So why hadnât Norman shown up yet?
  Dipper chews his bottom lip, looks to his truth-serum-dosed bottle of soda, looks back to his phone. No new messages. But... Norman had to come. He wouldnât just stand Dipper up, would he? No, this was his idea in the first place. But still... what if he did?
  He didnât want to think about it.
  Unfortunately, he couldnât stop thinking about it.
spectrator
âăHmm. I was hoping to find a group of cute girls to terrorize, but I guess the city isnât as active as it used to be. Youâll just have to do instead! So, kid. Wanna see a magic trick?ăâ
Đ˛Ń Â˘ÎąŃŃĆĎ â ПιкΚΡg ĎΚŃĐ˝ŃŃ
spectrator
  â...and even today, he hides in the shadows of these very woods, waiting for the next lost soul he can make a part of his Dark Forest...â
  Out of old traditions, Dipper had taken to gathering some of the late-night Shack tours around a campfire in the woods, telling âghost stories,â or so to speak, legends heâd heard about Hive City, rumors of monsters or accounts of spectral encounters. Tonight, of course, was no exception.Â
  Once the story was over and the crowd had all started making their way back to the cabin is when the boys usually found it a prime moment to talk privately between themselves. Usually it was a quick comment, a joke, a lighthearted conversation, but something was different, this time. Norman remained sitting on the fallen log beside the fire, staring into it. Dipper knew that look, he knew there was something on the other boyâs mind, that he was thinking about something important but not saying a word.
  And so Dipper takes a seat beside him, not before moving the old lantern out of his footâs way. âHey, is everything okay..?â
spectratorâ
          ăâ ăâÂť When you lived with one foot perpetually in the grave and ears that heard things that other people could only dream of, you found it hard to ignore when the other side decided to get your attention. But, despite this, Nico tried his best (even if it didnât always work out like he would have wanted). Still, there were times when even his power couldnât silence the disembodied whispers in his ear, or the cold feelings that swept over his thin body like a tidal wave. Times like now, where the deadâs incessant tugs were unavoidable. When they wouldnât take no for an answer, and the son of Hades knew that sometimes the only way to stop them was to listen to whatever they wanted him to hear, to turn his eyes to them and find out just what they wanted him to do.
          And so, that was exactly how he found himself in Spectre Square, the only living thing in sight. His pale skin looked stark-white in the mist that always covered the area, the olive tone leeched away and his form turned to a smudgy spectator. And all around him, the dead swirled. Hurry, hurry, hurry, they whispered, their voices insistent and heard only by him. Why they in such a rush, or what they were leading him to, Nico could only guess. Still, he followed them dutifully, hoping to win himself some peace with the completion of whatever quest they wanted him for. That is, until he turned the corner around an abandoned building and found himself face-to-first with a stranger.
          The demigod had expected to see only ghosts in such a desolate place, so his first reaction was startled confusion. His dark eyes widened a fraction of an inch, and he took an involuntary step back. Nicoâs thoughts flickered back and forth for an instant, eventually falling on the conclusion that the boy before him probably wasnât a threat. He seemed harmless, small and thin, and Nicoâs instincts told him that the boy before him wouldnât be able to harm if he tried... until a frigid feeling washed over the son of Hadesâs body, a feeling that squirmed through his chest and seeped into his limbs, turned them heavy and dead. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes darted to find the source of the feeling, the cause of such a deep and thick sense of death.
          â What is that, â Nico practically hissed, taking another step backward with wary eyes, the nervousness evident in his tone. Surely, the boy could feel it tooâ such a heavy darkness should be noticeable by even the least sensitive of humans.

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Ęá´sá´ á´É´á´ Ňá´á´É´á´ }Â É´á´Ęá´á´É´
Under the cover of night was ideal operational time, even if his plans werenât nearly as sinister as they used to be. He couldnât lie and say they were squeaky clean, since he was pretty far from it, but at the very least it wasnât for the money. Just a few intrusive questions, a few coercions, and a lot of newfound information to put together.
That was mostly was he needed, and tonightâs intake would do. All that was required now was the walk back to his living quarters, which would likely be uneventful. He didnât look like an ideal target, somebody you could easily snatch whatever from. Itâs not like had much to take besides a cherry red jumprope, anyway. Well, that, and the item in his grasp.
Heâd simply found it on the ground, the cheap kind you can get for 5 bucks at any corner store. It didnât have much in it, but he didnât see an owner, and with little identification in it, he wasnât willing to go through the effort to track down whoever lost it. After all, cash was cash, and a guy with little could always use some more. Heâd have to live until he could find a way out of here, after all.
One alley shortcut and a few blocks later, he found something in his path. Small, skinny, he nearly seemed to blend in with the night. He seemed to be poring over the sidewalk and the cracks in the walls with a purpose, on the lookout for something, and Yuu allowed himself a few minutes of watching him go about it before actually moving. For such a large guy, he could be pretty quiet, and only the imposing shadow would have been noticeable as he loomed over the younger. Most definitely not a friendly-looking visage.
âItâs a little late to be wandering around, you know. Somebodyâll be looking for you.â
aesthetic meme â Norman Babcock ( spectratorâ )
âA man who wonât listen canât hear..."
â A Game of Thrones sentence/starter meme
     âAn unfortunate truth.â
     Like water did the silhouette move closer, a towering design of shadow brought to a stoop upon the childâs mournful utterance. It rang experience with the matter, likely subject to ignorance often. Mankind were but carved of flesh, souls at the reinsâ so full of turmoil, seeking a good word to numb their emotional hurts; comfort. He could comprehend their workings, appeal to this nature, but never fully understand in his own right.
                    He hadnât a need, but he could play the part.
   And so he did, laying his palms atop the boyâs shoulders as he gently spoke his support.
     âGo on now, Norman.â
   That touch lifted away as he drifted from the child, seasoning the encouragement with a little more all the whileâ
                                     âYou know you can talk to me.â