(catch-all/open) hold up, i'm invincible

[invinciblemikey]

WHO: manjiro "mikey" sano & you

WHERE: the harbors, mirth, and the hinterlands.

WHEN: november 1st till... the end of november??? probably

WHAT: mikey fixes boat things, does hella partying, has his shadow take over, and then goes for the noticeboard hinterlands quest.

WARNINGS: well. hahaha. (possible) suicide attempt mention, (possible) ideation, lack of control, dissociation, crime boss talk, death, drug and alcohol use, violence, and maybe a murder might occur. hi, he's great

Comments

the harbors

[invinciblemikey]

(strangely enough, in death, there's slightly more space for mikey to feel alive. not much has changed within him, but without subordinates, without an organization, with no concerns about quarterly smuggling orders or whether the police has anything at all on him, it allows for him to breathe a little easier.

not that it's all flowers as mikey exists in this place. even in the afterlife, it'd be a lie to say that his dark impulses don't suffocate him, or that his brain fog has lifted, his memory improved, and his dissociation left - it's actually even worse, which he could never have imagined being true. instead, it feels like this place has given the darkness deep within his heart has now been given a megaphone, and it screeches into his ear ever so often.

"look at you. protect them? you? from you? you clearly can't stop yourself, monster. one down, and if you hadn't thrown yourself from that building? two? three? stay away from everyone. you'll hurt them in the end."

"shinichiro died. baji died. emma died. and you're a corpse. a walking corpse that does nothing but destroy. they'd sure be absolutely thrilled to see what you've become, you piece of shit."

"and of course! you couldn't just live! what about izana's dream, you idiot? you're walking away from that too? you're weak weak weak weak WEAK YOUR STRENGTH MEANS NOTHING."

"you'll never be like him."

and those are devastating, as much as he believes them wholeheartedly ever so often. so, he'll do what makes him feel closer to himself, a grounding exercise of sorts, as he hangs by the harbor and twists tools around a marine propulsion, white hair full of grease and hands black from it, as it sits patiently at the harbor.

mikey just hears commotion near him, and he cannot let go of the mechanical part he's holding at the moment. so, he'll use that commanding voice that has got him so far in life.)

Hey, you! Pass me that wrench, please.

[zangetsu]

（ he's happening past, hands stuck in his pockets, bag slung over his shoulder when he hears that request.

to be perfectly honest, he considers ignoring it. ichigo is absolutely shit at following orders at the best of times, and a Commanding Tone is a good way to get him to flip the bird and backflip off the pier, but his natural recalcitrance is softened by that please.

with a long-suffering sigh, ichigo sifts through the nearby tools until he comes up with a crescent wrench, and he steps in to hand it over. then his hands go right back in his pockets — he's not a stranger to taking things apart and putting them back together, but mechanics aren't really for him — it's more chad's area.

(then again: what isn't chad's area? ichigo's pretty sure he could take up the classical flute on tuesday and be in the philharmonic by friday.) ）

Do you want me to move the tools closer?

（ you know. fix the issue of needing outside help. ）

[invinciblemikey]

(truth be told, mikey's own capabilities are more on the motorcycle variety. some things apply, some obviously don't, so a lot of it is trial and error, and using his few working braincells to put two and two together. he takes the wrench, and while it looks like he's not putting much effort into using it, the screw he was tightening even makes a noise to say that it's enough.

patting his hands, he just gives a thumbs up as he sticks his head into the machinery, his voice echoing.)

That'd be great.

[zangetsu]

（ so, obligingly, he hauls the (heavy, what the hell) toolbox over. sets it down beside the guy, and then takes a few steps back to maintain his meticulously enforced bubble of Personal Space. ichigo, not a people person. but he is a person lately hauled up from a depressive mire from hell, and that means maybe not just blowing people off immediately and walking away.

he looks at the engine. the guy. the engine again. he's all very glad this indecision can't be seen while the guy's got his head in the engine bay. finally — ）

What exactly are you doing?

mirth - a chill night

[invinciblemikey]

(lights, lights, lights everywhere, making even seeing what's in front of oneself hard as the mix and match of colors play tricks with the eye. the music is loud to the point mikey feels his barefeet vibrate on the floor, booming and drowning any voice in his brain that is speaking more than it should. this - this is comfortable. as he grew older, the shrines and meetings in abandoned spaces outgrew him, dealing made in restaurants that make more than they could possibly spend, clubs where business not only was discussed, but operated under...

it's, strangely, the place he feels the most at ease thus far. it's a circular couch, full of strangers whose faces he can't particularly make out with how blinding the lights are. in front of him, a beautifully ornated glassbong sits, and he lights the herbs as he breathes in the smoke, letting it cloud on top of their heads once it swam in his lungs for a little while.

nice. his brain is so heavy, and the drink that he downs helps that as well. so, unceremoneously, he'll just pass it to whoever is in line. whoever the hell it might be.)

Don't be fucking greedy, shit's strong.

[koutsuanzen]

[It doesn't really matter why Mikey's fucked up, only that he is. Just like it doesn't matter why Baji is here, or what "here" is, or why Takemichi is in it too, already spouting plans about saving the world and all of its puppies and flowers or whatever whatever. These are all details that can be ironed out later. They're second fiddles-- they're distractions.

What matters is this:

1. Some of his people are here. He had to find them and account for them.
2. Some of those people were Takemichi, who was nursing a sore head.
3. Which meant that another of those people was Mikey.

Now, he'd been warned about the attitude adjustment; the tragic-fuck backstory; the sad-sack new hairdo; and the age thing. Sure.

It sounded like all Mikey really needed was a reminder that the way he was behaving was totally unacceptable. He'd always been petulant, spoiled, and charming enough to get his way. Where were the guys who should have been giving him pushback? Where was the warmth-- the real support, the people who had his best interests at heart? Giving up wasn't acceptable. And if he'd given up on himself then, well, he could be 15 or 52, Baji didn't care. He was going to aggressively not give up on him. Keyword: aggressively.

It had taken a while to sniff him out, track him down... recognize him. But once he finally did, after the initial internal seismic shock at the sight of him, he'd move in one violent jolt, forward.

In a beat, Mikey would go from handing off a bong, to having the damn thing slapped right out of his skeleton-twink-ass hand. The music was loud. The lights were ghastly, making shadows and then electric currents of them all.

And the ornate tool, with its strong weed, would shatter.]

...Drugs, Mikey? Really?

[It might take a moment, in all those moving patches of blue, pink, and dark, to recognize the person in front of him. It had sure taken Baji a moment to really understand it was Mikey he was looking at.]

That shit's fuckin' beneath you.

[It wasn't the drugs so much as this vibe; so much as how many he must be taking, judging by the sunken eyes and hollow look of him.]

[invinciblemikey]

(when he got here, he spared a moment to think about the people who've left him, and the likelihood to stumble across them when he's like this. he knows for a fact that his current behavior, appearance, story, none of these would go smoothly with any of them -- which, quite frankly, might be a blessing, or a curse in itself. what could push his people away might also serve as fuel for them to keep digging, and digging, and coming closer when that is the last thing they should do.

control is such a feeble thing. at times, he has it. he keeps himself well, hands clean, knuckles fair and not bruised from punching. the others, he remembers only a few days later what he's done, and he's apathetic, uncaring, as long as the people he separated himself from weren't a target for his darkness. so, it's the best it can be.

the drugs help, though. they numb, and they recenter and ground as much as they take his mind away - the one that is fogged, cloudy, forgetful, and unforgiving. so, he's closing his eyes for a moment, feeling the lightheadness of his ego death transform into a heaviness, until the shattering noise and familiar voice reach his ears. of course, of fucking course.

if takemichi is going to be hard to shake, there's nothing that really separates him from keisuke. he's never grown an inch, still tiny, but his presence is even more intense as he stands. he has to make baji hate him right away, or else, he'll join takemichi's club of relentless optimism. but how to make your first love hate you? how to make someone you've loved so dearly, so freely, turn their back against you? well, he has to try. the shittiest thing he can think of is what leaves his mouth as he walks towards the other, the difference in height still tangible as he stares at baji's face.

fuck. fuck. he hates this.)

You left me and now you want to tell me what to fucking do? You ain't got no right.

[koutsuanzen]

[Baji isn't intelligent enough to put two and two and two together and get the full picture here: that Mikey, somehow towering at his squat and slender posture, is trying to conjure up the thing that will hurt him the most, that will push him the furthest away. Baji doesn't have any sense of his motives, because he isn't thinking too deeply on it. This is Mikey, and it isn't; it's the person he loves, and it's someone who grew into this form without him. He's maybe nothing to this person; a distant, shitty memory of a traitor that took away his wish to bring bloody justice to the guy who'd killed his brother.

It didn't matter. His Mikey was somewhere beneath all the layers of hair dye and emotional fortification, the antisocial antipathy.

What this Mikey wanted didn't concern him at all. He wasn't Takemichi, after all. He wasn't going to try to figure things out, or promise to save anyone. Baji's empathy was a deep pool that focused only on what he identified as the most important part: in this case, Mikey's health.

Whoever, whatever this format was, it was unhealthy. And he needed friends to make him well again. That was it.

So when Mikey takes out his slings and arrows, they might as well have bounced right off of him. Of course it hurts to know he left Mikey; left everyone; behind. But it happened, it's in the past, and that's that. He didn't so much as regret it. He'd do it again, to save Tora and Mikey.

Baji had been dealing with Kazutora for years, after all. A guy so broken by his own ill-deeds, his mind so cracked by being unable to cope with his lonesomeness, that he'd literally stabbed him.

So comparatively, what were a few mean words gonna do?]

You're right. Sorry.

[Came the firm, blunt, reply. And then he'd shrug it right off.]

But I'm gonna do it anyway. We got lost time to make up for.

[And if Mikey allowed it, he'd reach out a hand, and pull him in by the back of his head right to his chest, in a hug.

If he'd allow it. If not, well... he'd go from there.]

slides in here super freaking late

[windsongs]

[ This isn't normally her scene, but Hibiki has learned that frequenting places like this makes it easier to both learn about jobs and acquire information for said job. She'll never get used to the way the bass rattles her bones, the heat of bodies moving in a rhythmic trance, or the smell of smoke wafting through the air.

The latter at least helps take the edge off the other two. More than she expects it to.

But it seems like she must have picked an off night, because after sitting at the bar for a while, listening in and striking up conversation, she doesn't hear about much. Mostly people complaining about the harvest illness, how it's back again and just as bad as ever. Still useful information for context, but it's old news. Oh well, maybe she'll have better luck sliding up to one of the lounge seats. With drink in hand (it's water), she makes her way over to the circular couches, stopping when she sees a familiar blond. ]

Mikey-san?

[ Standing behind the couch, she leans over the back, putting her head between him and the person he passed the glassbong to. Man, now she's probably going to seem like a stalker, popping up randomly in a place where he's hanging out. Oh well, too late now. Hibiki gives him one of her trademark smiles. ]

Fancy seeing you here.

[invinciblemikey]

... Hibi-chan. Wouldn't imagine this to be your scene.

(there's still residual smoke leaving his lips, the droopiness of his eyes indicating that the drug is certainly doing its job. he wouldn't think of her as a stalker, not yet, but rather - a person he simply cannot help but to meet ever so often.

his companion, god knows their name, sucks in the smoke, keeps it in their lungs for more time than mikey'd deem possible, before it's back into his hands. well, a last hit. as he did say, shit's strong, and he might as well pace.

the flame of the lighter flickers for a moment before the herb burns, the sound of the water agitation within the bong inaudible, before the smoke enters his lungs.

one. two. leave.)

You want some? What's up?

[windsongs]

[ Maybe they're just "fated to run into each other." Or maybe not, since fate seems to have a way of being a dire asshole to her. Either way, Hibiki won't complain at least, because despite being open about his crimes, there is a person who cares deeply somewhere inside there. She engaged him because of his ties to the yakuza; and she stays because there's much more to him than that. ]

Yes and no. [ She shrugs. He's not wrong. ] But sometimes I just wanna listen to people talk.

[ She knows that look, can smell the herb in the smoke billowing from his lips like some lazy dragon. Man's high as a kite. Draping her arms over the back of the chair, her drink held between Mikey and his overzealous couch mate (yep, still water in that glass), the other blonde grins. ]

Mm, never had it before, not sure what it'll do to me. I can hang out and get a drink though. This seat taken?

[ Is she seriously trying to muscle in between him and his unnamed companion? ]

mirth - tonight is not chill.

[invinciblemikey]

(the longer he spends here, the more he notices that his darkness enjoys it, and he finds himself less and less anchored, more and more a walking, dancing body rather than an actual person. memory issues, not realizing what he's doing until it's too late, coming to himself with bloodied hands and well, lately? complete fucking apathy. he's so tired of fighting it, it's best to keep it more or less in check, as long as his people are not affected.

but, fuck, he doesn't even remember how did he get there tonight. whateer drug that slid into his hands, they promised it'd be stimulant, so - find him taking it, tilting his head back on the same couch he's been hanging at lately, before puffing his cheeks to complain.)

Come on!! How long until this works!!

[zauneyete]

[ Silco shows little concerned for the boy, when he'd just been taking the stimulant. He's not so bothered by the sight of drugs -- if anything that's just par for the course. He's got a cigar in hand, and he sat on the arm of the couch, and puffed away. ]

Impatient, much?

[ He asked, bluntly. ]

How did you take it?

cw drugs

[invinciblemikey]

Pill-- come on, old man. Don't diss. Here, have one too.

(cannot believe he's made friends with a DINOSAUR, but here they are, as mikey grabs silco's hand to place a pill in the center.)

I don't like snorting, it hurts my nose.

[zauneyete]

Hm. Not my favored method either.

[ Then again, they didn't have a way to inject them the way Silco liked. ]

Effects?

[ He asked, his tone careful, curious. He wasn't interested in anything that dulled his senses, but... restraint had led him down only one path, and he did want to get a proper... feel for the products here.

Not that he would be a drug kingpin here -- not without Singed and his shimmer, but... He did expect he would find some way to keep his fingers on the pulse of the drug trade. ]

mirth - murder night.

[invinciblemikey]

(he danced, he danced, and he danced. his arms, by the end of the evening, felt heavy in a way they haven't in years. holding a gun is not the same as throwing a punch.

and, on his way out, it's when a massive man bumped on him. it'd have been fine, if the man hadn't goaded, if he hadn't pushed through the very thin line that separates mikey's clarity from his impulses.

next thing, the alleyway behind the club now echoes the grunts and noises of a man whose skull is being punched in, mikey's fists relentless in their pursuit of death. one, two, three--)

(ooc note! aside from castmates, this is going to be open for other two people. if anyone else wants in, feel free to discuss with me over PM, or on discord at jade#2897!)

[nagano]

(( meow hello jade pls let me know if this is Okay or if you want it Altered ))

[ Mirth's far from Kaito's first choice of districts to roam when he's in Stygia. It reminds him too much of the worst parts of Shibuya. But just as it was necessary for him to pick up clients in the seediest neighborhoods, this workaholic finds himself aimlessly wandering the streets as if he'll chance upon someone who might need him.

S̵o̸m̶e̴o̷n̴e̸ ̵w̶h̷o̸s̶e̴ ̵b̶u̶s̴i̴n̷e̵s̵s̶ ̴y̸o̵u̶ ̸c̸a̸n̸ ̵s̶h̵o̵v̷e̵ ̸y̸o̴u̴r̸ ̸n̷o̸s̷e̸ ̵i̶n̵,̴ ̶y̶o̷u̴ ̷m̴e̵a̸n̴.̷ ̸T̵h̴i̵s̷ ̶i̴s̷n̵'̵t̸ ̶y̷o̸u̸r̷ ̴t̷u̶r̶f̸.̷ ̵N̵o̶n̶e̸ ̵o̶f̶ ̸t̸h̶i̴s̷ ̶i̷s̵ ̷y̴o̴u̸r̵ ̸t̸u̶r̵f̸.̸

Y̸o̷u̵ ̵h̴o̸l̵d̶ ̸o̶u̵t̴ ̸a̶ ̸h̷a̸n̸d̴ ̶a̴n̷d̸ ̷i̸t̴'̸l̵l̵ ̷b̶e̷ ̶b̷i̴t̷t̴e̸n̷ ̸o̴f̵f̶.̴

Ah, he doesn't care. It's been easier to ignore his Shadow ever since reuniting with Hibiki. And more importantly—

The sound of thudding fists coupled with the distinct desire for murder in someone's aura chases all doubts out of his mind. He's off, skidding to a stop at the mouth of a nearby alleyway just in time to see someone being bludgeoned to death by a considerably smaller attacker. What is it with the short ones being ridiculously strong?

Refraining from outright tapping into his powers, Kaito slinks his way inside, stopping a few yards away from the one-sided slaughter. In a sharp voice, he calls out: ]

—I think he's had enough, stranger.

[ O̶h̶,̵ ̵I̷ ̵s̴m̸e̴l̵l̶ ̶b̴l̸o̷o̵d̷ ̶o̵n̶ ̵h̷i̵s̴ ̸h̸a̵n̵d̵s̶.̶ ̶C̴a̷n̶'̵t̵ ̵w̴a̵i̴t̸ ̷f̶o̷r̵ ̵h̷i̶m̵ ̶t̷o̵ ̵k̴i̸c̸k̷ ̵y̸o̶u̴r̷ ̴a̶s̶s̶.̸ ]

[invinciblemikey]

(mikey's own hands are going to be sore, with how much strength he is putting into each punch against cheekbones. he's always been incredibly strong, both regarding technique and physical strength, undefeated in 28 years of life. so, there is no fear, there never has been any, when he challenged fuckers twice or three times his size. hundreds couldn't stop him, anyway.

much less the man who dares to interfere, he figures, even if he can't exactly hear what he has said. it's not like he registered anything from what's going on around him, truly, other than the fact that the man under him is starting to fail in his breathing.

almost there.)

[nagano]

[ Well, that was productive. Not. As if entranced (or simply unaware), the attacker simply continues pounding away. It's brutal, maybe even gruesome to watch. But Kaito keeps his focus on the one-sized beatdown, talking in every detail of the blond's force and technique.

It would be much safer to go directly for a disable (sliming the guy immediately sounds like a good suggestion), but there's an itch in the back of his head that Kaito's about to indulge: his stupid not-so-buried love for fighting.

So, after doing a lot of nerd shit some consideration, he simply closes the distance and grabs at the other's arm when it cocks back. ]

That's enough.

[ At the very least, he can draw the aggro off this big guy before he dies. Again. ]

slides in here........ cw implied abuse

[appeale]

[ it's her own fault. she had gone out with a handful of her fellow Restless, when she probably should have just found an excuse. it was her who chose to leave early, tired of the familiar feeling of watching others from the other side of a line she can't ever cross. it was her who insisted she could go home alone. and it was her who, in a sudden spike of anxiety, took the alleyway to avoid a stranger on the main streets.

still—

Why does this always happen to me...?

there's no mistaking the scene Rudbeckia has stumbled across. for all the horrors she's suffered in each of her lives, this kind of hands-on homicidal brutality is a sight she's never been exposed to—and yet, there is a sound she knows. the dull, heavy drumbeat of a body being struck. it's strange to hear without feeling any pain, without her own voice crying beneath it. but the absence of either reminds her that this is a situation she can escape from. no fraction of a thought spared for the dying man, nor even an apology in her mind. the only thing that matters is getting away from here.

while Rudbeckia de Borgia no longer lives in the pages of a novel, the misfortunes of her existence have become no less cliché: when she makes to shift back, preparing to run, her heel collides with an empty bottle she had stepped over just a moment earlier. there is a high musical clink-clink-CLINK of the glass as it rolls across the pavement and then strikes the wall. in her ears, it rings like a gunshot.

she doesn't move. ]

[invinciblemikey]

(the sound of rolling glass cutting the air isn't enough to make him halt, but the lack of response from the man under him is. maybe he's gone a bit too far, he isn't sure the man is still able to draw breath, but alas. it's out of him. knuckles sore, face stained with droplets and splashes of blood, all very contrasting with fair skin and white hair - and once he stands, it's when he sees the girl like a deer in the headlights.

ah, well. all mikey does is sigh, tiredly, before he sets a scarlet hand on her shoulder.)

Don't look. Close your eyes and I'm leading you out of here. I'm not going to hurt you, I think.

(it's not a threat, and he doesn't mean it like one. he genuinely means that, for now, it feels like he's soothed, and his violence most likely won't leak to her. he might be a monster, but there's no way he'd just leave a girl to get traumatized further for nothing.)

[appeale]

[ there would be no reassuring her no matter what words he chose, but what he does say only makes Rudbeckia's rabbit heart beat faster. I'm not going to hurt you, I think. does that mean he still might hurt her, suddenly, at any moment? she already knows that. that's a horror she's always lived with. it just feels worse that even he doesn't know for sure, that perhaps he isn't aware where the pressure plates lie that could set him off—which means there's no way for Ruby to know where to tread either.

despite the stark terror on her expression, she doesn't try to pull away from the touch of his blood-stained hand. she displays no signs that she intends to run, or defend herself, or scream for help. if anything, she is pliant, easy to move and steer as the stranger pleases. her voice comes out soft and toneless: ]

Yes, signore. I-I'll behave.

[ but she doesn't close her eyes. it isn't something her prey instinct will allow her to do. ]

notice board - hinterlands

[invinciblemikey]

(that time feels all sorts of wonky here isn't news, but god, how long have they been walking? never! in! his! damn! life! has he had to walk for hours. hours???? he's exhausted, and he'll find a little spot to sit in, dropping onto his back and sighing.

and then, just then, one will hear a little noise. it's a snore. it sure is a snore.)

[killtohero]

[How long has it been since he's arrived at this place? Time is meaningless, and, well, was that really any different in prison? At least in prison there was structure, there was discipline, there were all the elements he needed to try and start to piece his psyche back together.

While he had been wandering, he found himself following a group. At first, it wasn't for any particular reason. There was just nothing to do, and why not explore this land. Clearly he'd had enough of life and had done himself in, so was there really meaning to anything? The endless steps, over and over and over again, were cathartic.

He missed his therapist.

But it wasn't just for the walk or the group, there was something about someone-- he'd caught a glimpse of their expression; large, haunted eyes that were so intensely recognizable, but there was nothing else about the thin man or his white hair or his odd tattoo that Kazutora recognized. And yet... he reminded him so much of someone.

Of Shinichiro. And well.. if he had killed himself and woken up in the land of the dead, it would make sense that the person he killed would also be here.

And he wanted to apologize..

So when the group began to disperse, and he saw the man go to sit on his own, Kazutora would approach cautiously... and would go to sit down beside him.

Only to hear the man snoring.

He was asleep...?

Carefully, softly, Kazutora would reach a hand out and tuck strands of white hair away from the man's face, to really look at him. He seemed more and more familiar to him, and he felt suddenly intensely about this guy-- a spark of hatred? Of relief and love?

And then it would hit him, like a bat to the head (one of his old time favorite moves), like a splash of cold water, like everything he knew had been expanded and then compressed and then thrown in his face.]

Mi..key...?

[invinciblemikey]

(the tucking and touch isn't what wakes mikey up from his impromptu nap, but the voice. his eyes open with sharpness, emptiness staring right at the boy, and before mikey could really stop himself, it's a hand that curls around kazutora's shirt, almost reflex to being awaken knowing he's in a vulnerable spot.

a cornered animal, if one cared to look at it. and speaking of looking, that's what he's doing once he's more awake, scanning kazutora's face for a little while before he lets go, hard, so that the other keeps a distance when he pushes him back.

self-isolating isn't great, hibiki said it herself, but he'd rather be screwed up alone than to drag everyone along with him.

but also, what the fuck?)

... You didn't die. You weren't supposed to be here.