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girlybruiser) wrote2025-03-06 01:50 am
girlybruiser) wrote2025-03-06 01:50 am
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๐ต๐ช๐ซ๐๐ป๐ฒ๐ท๐ฝ๐ฑ๐พ๐ถ โ ๐ฒ๐ท๐ซ๐ธ๐
๏ผฉ๏ผฎ๏ผข๏ผฏ๏ผธ
๐ฅ๐๐ฉ๐ฅ ๐ฌ โฆ ๐๐ฆ๐๐๐ ๐ โฆ ๐ง๐๐๐๐ ๐น โฆ ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐ ๐ ๐ฌ
๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ฃ๐๐๐๐ฅ
CW CONT ALL FROM ABOVE JUST STOP LOOKING!!!!!!!!
He didn't scream.
She does.
And the sound is melodious in its agony - mixes with his own delighted laughter in that second. For only a second. A twisted vile glee fills him for a second. He feels full for a second.It vanishes in two.
It always does.He can't feel it. Can.
It never does.
Marks burn. Pulse wild and erratic in his own ears, against his ribs. It's only a second. Feels like longer.This family looks their best when they're completely and utterly miserable. She's lucky Shido sees no value in her life. Who cares what a little puppet does - it dances no matter who's holding the strings.
And Akechi's holding them. And Akechi feels them. And Akechi has thick strands clumped together in his palm that he tugs upwards. To make her move. To force her cheek along the cracked web.
He hopes it hurts. Feels it hurt. He feels something hurt and -
The handle sticks out - appears with a burning, sudden jolt in the corner of his eye and it doesn't look any different than a marionette's limb.
And a puppet that chooses its life, its fate, is no pawn at all. He chooses it. He's no pawn. No he's no victim. It doesn't matter if his body is covered in strings that he allows others to pull.
His fingers rip free from her hair and wrap around the wrist holding the handle of a blade embedded him. She's rotten. He wants to see - more than ever. Wants to hold it there, more than ever. ] You should have gone through the throat. Don't you know it's a poor choice to give your enemy the chance to strike back?
no subject
She stifles another painful objection in her throat, wincing as she feels his fingers tighten around the skin, around delicate bone that she knows he could snap if he really wanted.
She stops flailing against him, chest rising up and down with each and every hard, laboured breath. Face red and heated, and sweat glistening across her face and neck, while she's forced to meet Akechi's gaze.
Full of frenzy, mania and glee.
Like a predator that's locked onto its prey, playing with its meal before delivering a final strike.
She knows this look.
Contemptuous and ugly, longing for only one thing that fills the apparent void in his heart: violence that settle matters.
She saw it when he revealed himself as the true culprit, the true Black Mask. Saw it again when he fought alongside them in Maruki's fake reality, ripping Shadows to shred just as effortlessly as she liked to do with her axe.
Right.
Her grip does not release from the knife's handle, locked as tightly as it can be. With all her gardening experience, ripping up roots with her bare hands comes rather easily for her, as it does holding onto the blade in place despite the pain signalling up her wrist as Akechi's hand continues to restrain hers.
Her other hand still presses to his chest, his heartbeat like a war drum, hers matching his pace now.
Haru's breath hitches as she shuts her eyes, her exhale jagged and slow, voice husky when she speaks. ]
How disgraceful.
[ Her voice is steady, laced with fervour that threatens to unravel as her fingers being to curl around the fabric of his neckline, nails scratching at his skin.
In a vanishing instant, her eyes flicker yellow.
You should know... that if you wish to strike, then you better strike first.
[ The adrenaline courses through her, enough to give her the steely courage to barrel into his body as hard as she can with the small distance between them. There's a window to keep her balanced, but opposite Akechi, he has nothing to support his taller frame as she uses her smaller one against him, shoulder turned to slam him into the bed behind. ]
no subject
The rest register as nothing more than ants. Haru is no exception. Her grazing fingers bite at his skin. She's a pest unworthy of being swat at. Her words -
Those words -
That look -
A flicker of rebellion in the heart of someone held down by a mask for too long. He sees it in Joker, at times. Nothing matches his feral, wild gaze in the midst of a bloodstained field, knife meeting sword, gun meeting blade. Nothing will ever make Akechi's heart race with a frenzied glee from a single look-
But this comes close.
Those words hit and sink deep into the pit of his stomach. The slam comes soon after. She's strong when she needs to be and his knees buckle from the force of her body, the sting of a blade digging deeper into his shoulder.
He doesn't let go - keeps her wrist in a vice during the tumble. He hopes it breaks. She'll have to slice his arm off to get him off. He'll never stop. ]
You worthless goddamn-!
[ It's too awkward to rip out the knife when they're tangled, him winded from the sudden blunt hit to his chest. But he has a blade hidden along his side and he gropes for it now. Tries to disguise the blatant attempt at a weapon by forcing his body upwards to roll them over, force her on her back against a far too uncomfortable bed. ]
The winner is the one who ends it in this particular game and you're woefully out of your league. I will always be one step ahead of you idiots!
no subject
Maybe there's a part of her that needs this.
It's not as elegant a battle as Noir would perform, but she doesn't have her axe on hand, nor is afforded any distance when their bodies are tangled against one another, hands grappling each other and nails scratching at any given opportunity.
It's vicious, but the thrum of her heart is oh so difficult to ignore.
He's needled at her for months now, from the very second they locked eyes in this world.
Every prick and
every cutโ
Cutting into her delicate skin, cutting over exposed wounds he refuses to give a chance to heal.
Words could never break her, but Haru has grown tired of his lazy, but sharp and poison-tipped words. Now was the time for action. Defiance.
Maybe Akechi needed to be taught a lesson in grace. ]
Ah!
[ She can't maintain her grip on the handle anymore, not as long as he practically crushes the circulation out of her wrist. She can feel it numbing quickly now, but before she can attempt to pry it away from him, she finds herself thrown against the bed.
The ceiling behind Akechi's frenzied face spins, she's delirious, panicked when he has the vantage point. Her curls fall against her face, blurring her vision for a moment.
Her head tilts to see where her communicator is, but as she reaches for it, her hand snaps too quickly in its direction and knocks it clear off the bed. It clatters somewhere to the floor.
She doesn't catch his hand searching for his own weapon, too busy trying to fend him off one-handed.
And he certainly likes to hear himself talk, but he's a lot stronger than she anticipated, so his words are taken with precaution.
... maybe his discussion about bouldering was not a form of peacocking after all.
When she realizes he has much more shoulder strength than she's imagined, Haru hits him across the face again, hoping that will startle him enough to give her a chance to escape. ]
Get off! Get off me you... creep!
cw: i forgo they're fighting still
Whether the miss was intentional or due to the distraction slamming across his face - who can say. His teeth hurt. The inside of his cheek worn raw and bleeding from every agonizing movement with a blade embedded deep, the bruising pulsating wound spreading across cheek and jaw. They aren't in the Metaverse. The pain isn't buffered by otherworldly powers.
It's a boy, a girl and the two knives between them.
The bed isn't made for their erratic movements - it's difficult to keep his position. The cheap peasant mattress is sliding off and his ankle hooks on a flimsy bedframe to keep them there. ]
Make me, idiot!
[ Knife round two - she may not rip it out of his body, but he has no problem tearing it free from the mattress and aiming for her shoulder in time.
Blood for blood, after all. ]
cw: blood + literally anything else we warned for WE WARNED Y'ALL FREAKS READING THIS
Her face still burns from where he had shoved her into the window, and there's a throbbing, sharp pain in her neck whenever she tries to turn her face away, her eyes scouring for anything she can grab or use to defend herself from his much more violent movements. ]
Let go of me!
[ She thinks her heart might implode from inside her chest with the way it beats hard and fast, the noise almost deafening in her ears now.
Then there's a searing, white, hot pain in her shoulder and there's a shrill scream from her, her body doubling and hand instinctively reaching for where a knife is lodged into her own flesh, blood seeping heavily through the fabric and onto the mattress.
... it's not enough to yell and scream and flail at him to stop.
He's never going to, until she makes him. ]
Get...
[ Haru's shoulder agonizes with every sharp breath she takes. She's never seen herself bleed this much blood in her life; it almost rattles her, paralyzes herโ
But she fights every instinct to shrink back. To hide.
The anger simmering inside her is no longer just leaking out, it's flooding every one of her senses, driving her to fight back with everything she's got.
Haru's leg curls up, pressing a knee into Akechi's stomach to push him as far off her as possible, trying to gain some momentum and get them off this damn unstable bed, the mattress sliding around and the cheap wooden frame banging against the wall. ]
... off!
[ Her other leg slides under next, this time, she kicks hard in the middle of his chest with her heel, just like Makoto had shown her for their Showtime she's gone many times over. She manages to leverage her frame with her one good arm and shoulder against the mattress to knock Akechi to the dirty floor and away from her. ]
NO ONE SAW THAT
And because Noir is here, Crow exists too and in one deft motion, he rips the knife free from his own body. He doesn't care. He needs a weapon - this is one. Maruki once told him 'you're not a field surgeon' and Akechi isn't sure why his voice rings through the high pitched static.
Everything hurts and he feels alive.
Noir is hurt and he feels content.
And it's the thrill of battle that pushes him upwards - wild adrenaline pulsing through his body, ears, mind. It's as close to Call of Chaos as he can get on his own. For a moment, he thinks about using it on both of them in the middle of this shithole. Opts against it when he thinks about the hard to explain collateral and woman who may be less willing to play along.
Every limb hits something on his way up, but he gets up - forces himself upward with a drawer's handle, though he's hardly standing proper. ]
That's more like it!
[ It's vicious, cruel, and violent. He wants more. Wants to rip that already open wound until it slices her in half. Wonders how much of him would be torn free before he managed to end it.
She can't win. She won't win. She isn't Akira or Maruki. He hopes for the challenge to continue all the same. ]
But there's nowhere to hide - I'll give you one final opportunity to surrender.
cw: blood, gore-ish description, what the fuck is happening in here STOP READING
The blood staining her dress, on the mattress, the small droplets on the floor.
Haru looks at Akechi, acknowledges the malice and violence wrapped around his heart.
He will never leave her alone. This will never end.
As long as they coexist in this world, she realizes there is no escape from the boy who her painted her world bloody and red before. Shido may have been the main perpetrator, and Akechi a victim in his own right, but a victim can easily turn victimizer.
It's all too clear now, he thrives off her reactions. A toy he will break when he is bored.
She can feel the heat brimming in her chest once more, distracting her torn skin and flesh that stings when her fingers slowly clasp around the hilt.
Her face grimaces; she grits her teeth, a strangled whine as she begins to pull metal from her shoulder. It hurts, it hurts, it hurtsโ
And it'll always hurt unless she faces him. No Joker to take the brunt of the damage and go toe-to-toe with him, no Mona to heal her, no Makoto to have Johanna brandish her with support skills.
They defeated him together before, but now she stands alone. All she has is the bonds within her and the fury to envelop and protect her, reminding her she chose her freedom and life over all.
She couldn't possibly defeat him, but she would try, and make him understand she was never to be trifled with again so easily.
Perhaps she's a little bit more like her father than she realizes. ]
We've fought side by side before, Akechi-kun. Don't forget that.
[ She cries out as she manages to pull the knife out, splattering more of her blood on the floor. The air feels worse against torn skin, but she's not losing more blood than expected. She feels somewhat dizzy, but that might be the violent delirium.
The bloodied knife stays in her hand.
No Milady, no guns, no axe. ]
If I turn away, I'll never forgive myself.
[ She takes a deep breath, taking a step toward him. ]
Besides... I think you would be sorely disappointed.
[ She doesn't need nor want his respect, but perhaps, deep down, an acknowledgement of who she really is. ]
cw: CONT
But even he can give credit where it's due. Without a healing spell to buffer, he didn't think she could stomach ripping that out. Half expected her to tumble out of the room seeking any kind of assistance.
That's what this trash is best at. Licking their wounds in the company of others.
She stands firm. So does he. Haru moves forward. Akechi stands his ground. Noir says I think you would be sorely disappointed and Crow finds a thrill in a challenge met. ]
Then shut up and finish this!
[ He pushes himself forward using the table meant to steady him and swings his knife in a downward arc towards her body, aiming for the same bleeding target as before. ]
cw: blood and violence cont
[ The nerves in her shoulder are screaming, her arm is starting to feel numb, if not for the adrenaline firing through every nerve in her body, keeping her going until this can be finished.
The dingy hotel room fades into the background as she stares down Akechi, crisp and clear, her focus never sharper or more intense these days.
Perhaps she's gotten a little too careless in this world.
Akechi slashes toward her. There's a fleeting moment in her mind, she thinks she isn't fast enough to dodge, she nearly steps back; she's never been the agile one on the team, relying on brute force and confusing enemies with her skills to strike harder.
But she's shorter than him and it's been shown a couple of times tonight that he seems to have a harder time fighting a smaller target. So Haru charges at him, ducking slightly to avoid taking a larger hit as the knife connects briefly, the sharp cut earning another anguished gasp from her.
She slams into him as hard as she can, with whatever outburst of energy she might have left, one arm wrapping around his waist to secure him as they bang into the table. This time, she keeps him in her grip, not allowing him the chance to flip her over as they collapse to the floor.
There's a loud crash, but it barely seems to register. All she can hear is her heart, like a jackhammer in her ears and her loud, hard breathing.
She releases his shirt, but her hand quickly snatches a fist full of Akechi's hair. Haru doesn't even realize how quick and decisive she is until she can feel the damp clump against her fingers, maintaining a death grip on him.
Well, maybe he should have to feel what that was like from earlier.
Cruelty isn't the point here, but it helps to get her message across.
Her legs straddle him on either side of his hips, pinning him to the hard, uncomfortable floor. ]
Mat.
[ The knife in her hand is pressed to his neck, the blade short of breaking delicate flesh. She keeps it steady, her arm poised to strike if necessary and unrelenting, but she doesn't make a move just yet.
Her blood coats part of the blade, droplets mixing with the blood on his shirt, the pools of red making it impossible to determine whose blood is whose.
So much blood spilled tonight, and for what?
Haru's burning gaze doesn't wane. She stares directly into his, not sure what she expects to see looking back at her, but forcing him to meet hers until he sees her.
Not just Noir, but Okumura Haru, the last Okumura he cannot, and will never, destroy. ]
cw: all cont INSANE TAG IM FERAL
Watching the Phantom Thieves operate in the depths of a fake casino.
Maybe he should have spared a thought for a woman turned warrior in her own right.Experienced and green all the same, they made stupid mistakes that left Akechi flabbergasted. Recovered and learned from it with same ferocity that bloomed in battle.
They operated well for a ragtag group of misfits. Easily found ways to exploit weaknesses from enemies, allow everyone a chance to shine bright.
His eyes never strayed from Joker - the rest of the thieves were a blight in his vision. Failures from them were expected. As the newest among them in truth -
Haru was still weaving herself into their little group, finding her own place on a team that should never have existed to begin with.
He hits the ground. Thinks of Aubrey and how their final meetup ended with red coating her shaking hands. He remembers it - vivid, clear and for a second, sees that same phantom blood drip from Haru's fingers. She doesn't shake.
But it's not. It isn't. There's a hand ripping at his hair and he's alive. It stings. Everything aches. A blade to his neck feels like home. His fingers grip at the base of her wrist to keep her from slicing him, but-
He almost wants it. Thinks he wants it. Lessens the force against her hand to see if that knife will dig, dig, dig into his flesh and it might. It may. When he swallows, it burns from metal carving into his Adam's apple.
There's an exasperated, crazed sort of laugh that escapes with whatever air remains in his lungs.
Mat - how obnoxious. How expected. He would applaud the theatrics of all if his hands weren't occupied on wrist and a blade that will never meet its mark now. ]
Kill me or get off.
cw: death mention
It's not the familiar comfort of her axe and how it afforded her some distance in battle once the sharp edge of it was held to a Shadow's neck. It was safe, impersonal andโ
Nothing like this at all.
Ragged, heavy breathing as her brown eyes bore into his, the knife inching just barely when she feels his wrist pushing hers back, trying to keep the edge of the blade away from his neck.
For a short spell, the pressure slackens, she doesn't expect it. Her hand might've pushed forward if she wasn't too hyper aware of where their hands sat, how their bodies mangled into one another as she sat atop him, the full weight of her trying to keep him on the floor.
And for a moment, she thinks she likes this sight beneath her. To see him at her mercy, to see him grasp who she's become, because Akechi Goro could no longer see how far any of them have come.
A faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips, but then...
"His signal is gone."
She's pulled back into Shido's ship, in the engine room, a heavy metal wall barricading her and the others as gunshots go off opposite them. They can't do anything, so they listen with heavy hearts.
Joker says something to Akechi, it doesn't make sense to Haru. There's something between them she will never fully grasp.
It makes her a little mad.
But it fills her with that sense of pity all over.
Shido's victim, just like Akira, whether he wanted to accept it or not. Now here he is, telling her to end it. She wonders what kind of life he could have had if he had met them all earlier, but on the other hand, maybe she would have been the one pinned to the floor, knife at her nape and ordering the mercy shot had things been different for her.
Her grip tightens on the handle, knuckles white as she angles her elbow, as if she might push the blade into Akechi's throat, but she takes a deep breath instead. ]
No.
[ Haru pulls the knife away and releases his hair, some loose strands entangled between her fingers. ]
I am not my father, nor am I like yours.
[ Her body feels heavy, tired. ]
... and I am not like you, Akechi-kun.
[ She slides herself off him finally, onto the blood-splattered wooden floor, too tired to move just yet. ]
no subject
No.
She isn't Akira. Joker. And for moment, he thinks-
How many would push their blade to his neck?She isn't meant to be a thief either.
It's not strength nor virtue. She isn't any better for it. Won't gain anything because of it.
A father's corpse isn't worth another. A mother's is.
And he pushes himself up to sit, a thin burning line on his neck, a gaping wound against his shoulder. From across the room, her own injury feels like a mirror. He hopes it hurts.
With his back against a wall, he staunches a bleeding mark with a palm. Lets his head crane back to rest against it. If she didn't slit his throat a moment ago, she won't now. ]
You can act as high and mighty as you want with a team behind you, but look how quickly you turn when you're alone. You're not as different as you think you are.
[ And he wants a goddamn minute to himself, so he jets a thumb towards the door. Doesn't bother turning his head to see if she follows. ]
Go heal yourself, genius. They can call for a nurse.
wrapped ๐
Even as they face opposite one another, nurturing their wounds, laboured breathing as they try to catch a moment's reprieve against the lessening tension, it still permeates the air.
She stares back at Akechi, as if he might get a second wind and aim for her throat this time.
But nothing happens.
And she should be glad for it, as there's a part of her nauseated over how violent this encounter had become. Even when she shuts her eyes, she can smell the blood and sweat tainting the air, the faint breeze entering through an ajar window hopeless against deep bloodstains on the mattress, the floor, her dressโ
And further down, where her fingers barely grasp it, there's a piece of Haru that doesn't feel nauseated enough. She should be more disgusted, more appalled at the frenzy.
She isn't.
"You're not as different as you think you are."
She shakes her head. It's different. Necessity. What was a girl to do alone in a room with someone whose only language was violence and threats? When she had tried to make him seeโ
That they weren't all that different in the end.
Her stomach sinks. ]
... we are not the same in ways you think.
[ Her voice is level again, but there's a hiss that follows when she slides his knife back to him across the floor with a shoulder that's feels it's been through a shredder. The knife clatters forward, some light red splatters trailing it, leading from one survivor to another.
She gets to her feet, her knees weak and shaking, clutching her shoulder.
As she walks past him toward the door, she stops in place before him, looking him over. ]
I hope you have come to an understanding, however. I am not the girl I used to be... and I am not afraid of you, Akechi-kun.
[ Her hand turns the doorknob and as she steps out: ]
If you come for me again in such a way, I will be ready.