Atsushi Owo

back on my bullshit

i love this so much I'm gonna die

Hi there!! Can I req a Matthias x reader where the reader is very nice yet shy, and Matthias fell for their kindness but is afraid to confess cause he might lose them(who's the first and only person to show him genuine care)?

(But he's also bad at hiding his feelings)

Or maybe a scenario where he has a difficult time sleeping and finds himself impulsively knocking on your door— regretful of his actions but he can't back out now that you're standing in front of the open door, curious from the unexpected visit.

He's a new char so I hardly find any fics about him and I'm desperate💔 you can change the scenario!! I'm really just desperate uehdhsishd(⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

hi anon i LOVED these ideas! i tried to combine both of them into one, i hope it satisfies what you wanted!! ♡

falling slowly 🪡

Matthias isn’t one to act on impulse.

He’ll let his thoughts fester aimlessly inside him, hoping the darker among them someday fizzle out. He’ll watch precious chances fly past him, fearing the consequences of a risk taken too rashly. A missed opportunity is better than another tragedy. A guarded mind is better than a broken heart. But some restless nights drive him to desperation, and tonight that leads him to you.

He stands outside your bedroom door, arms stiff against his sides. He’s passed by this room countless times before, as the two of you occasionally walk each other back to your rooms. But never has he come here on his own, never without explicit permission.

He gingerly raises his hand, letting it hover above your doorframe. All of a sudden, he loses his words. What would he say? I can’t sleep, I need you to check for monsters under my bed? I need you to stay with me until I fall asleep? I need you to tuck me in? What a baby. He can already picture the look you’d send him: a smile that’s trying too hard to be polite, a shabby effort at concealing the judgment within. You wouldn’t turn him down directly, even though he knows you’d want to. Kindhearted people love to dance in circles before saying anything that might offend. He’s all too familiar with this game. Normally, your kindness is something he loves about you, but all he can do now is curse it under his breath. If only you were crueler to him, like most people are, then he wouldn’t have let his hopes inflate his head. He would’ve known never to even consider stopping by your room. He would’ve known to avoid this situation altogether.

His fingers close into a fist, and it’s then he realizes he’s quivering slightly. Louis wouldn’t have a problem in this scenario. That thought piques Matthias most. His “factory defect” has locked him in place yet again, and all he can do is swallow down the reminder of his incompetence. It’s just a door, for God’s sake.

He flexes his fingers one last time, glancing around as if worried someone might catch him. Then he strikes his fist. It’s a clumsy motion, rattling your door on its hinges, and his heart leaps to his throat. A courteous knock would have three raps or so, not the jarring thud! he made — nobody in their right mind would imagine that’s a welcome visitor, right? Especially not at this snake’s pit of a manor. He prays desperately for you to ignore that ever happened. In your position, he’d pretend to be asleep, maybe double-check that the door is properly locked. Surely you’d do the same.

Surely...?

“It’s open!” greets your voice from inside, entirely unconcerned.

Matthias holds his breath. Why are you leaving your door unlocked at this hour? But he tucks that thought away while he stares down at the doorknob. This is it — he’s trapped. If he turns around now, you’ll be left with unresolved fears of someone lurking around your room at night. Nothing could entice him to do that to you. And if you ever found out it was him? It’d be too late for apologies, and definitely not forgiveness. Right, so he has to answer.

Slowly, he cracks it open a fraction, afraid of peering anywhere but the ground.

“You can come in,” you urge. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to. Footsteps shuffle around inside, then the door fully swings open. “Oh, hi Matthias! What’s up?”

He only meets your face briefly, at your bright and curious eyes, before his gaze flicks back downward.

“Uh… sorry to bother you, I just…” He awkwardly grasps at his elbows, struggling to string together his intentions. “…I need you.”

. . . . .

There it is. His secret is out. He didn’t mean to let it slip, but that single phrase had been bouncing endlessly around his mind, as if they were the only words he knew. It’s the one thing he can confidently admit: he needs you. He doesn’t expect you to reciprocate. In fact, he’s certain you don’t. Nobody in their right mind would. That’s why he never ventured to say these words before. So when you respond to him with patient silence, as if waiting for him to continue, the entirety of his body freezes over. Maybe only a few seconds pass in reality, but that’s more than enough time for Matthias to fill the gaps. It’s a no — he knows it’s a no.

Your head tips slightly. “Sure, what do you need?”

The whirlwind in his mind slows to a halt. He remembers how he used to cough up excuses on the spot when trying to avoid you—sometimes you’d invite him for a meal or game of cards together, and he had convinced himself those were pity invites so he tended to reject them upfront. It stings less to avoid someone altogether than to endure feeling ‘tolerated’ instead of ‘wanted.’ But now he’s wracking his brain for an excuse to stay.

“I—I just wanted to see you.” It’s not a lie, but for some reason it feels like one.

“Me?” A look of surprise flashes on your face, warmth blooming across your chest. That might be the most forward thing you’ve ever heard from him. Stepping closer, you reach for his forearm, peering up into his face to better examine his strained features. Your free hand reaches up to brush aside the limp strands of hair shrouding his face. “Did something happen? It’s almost midnight—I mean, I don’t mind, it’s just so unexpected…”

The strength falls from Matthias’ shoulders. Out of relief, maybe. Or maybe it’s to brace himself for one last leap of faith.

“Can I stay with you…?” His voice is barely audible. You search his lone eye, staring back at you in its perfect hollowness. At some point, that blank stare has become a comforting sight for you. Your hand trails from his arm to spread across his shoulder. He remains motionless.

“Okay,” you say, softly. “Always.”

As you move to wrap both arms around his neck, you notice his body tense, and his brows furrow, subtly, in a clear attempt not to let you notice. The strain on his face catches you off-guard.

“Wh-What? What’s wrong?” Immediately, you pull back to search his expression.

“N-No, nothing—keep going.”

This time, it’s Matthias who draws you close. His arms weave their way around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His face burrows into your shoulder, and it’s then you understand the weight of his visit, of his need for you. All you can do is lift a tender hand to ruffle his hair, feeling his pounding heart ease in your arms.

A Luca x reader would be nice........... preferably slow burn and y/n is the shy type............. I'm hungry................. Thirsty............ Would beg....... Thank you.... *dying*

♡— The Prisoner with a shy S/O

♡— Oh my god… anon… N-N… NO!!!! Anon please, don’t do this to me… breathe. Oh my god. BREATHE!! *sniff* *sob* i’m… I’m so sorry i couldn’t save you, anon…. I hope you’re in a better place now… *sob*

♡— Warnings: g/n reader, fluff, possibly ooc i’m not sure, word count is 1400

♡— Luca Balsa, despite going through a turmoil of tragic events, never did once even try to stop working on his lifelong passion, god forbid even think of it. Yes, around him there were degenerates, murderers, thieves, even mystical, strange creatures - such combinations would drive any man crazy, as if anyone in here already wasn’t. But after all, finding something you could get absorbed in is the best method for killing time, don’t they say? Not even his developing issue with memory loss can stop him now.

♡— That’s why the prisoner, most of the time, could be found in the comfort of his own dorm, sitting by the desk while brain storming for yet another solution to the new experiment he was currently developing. And to be frank, he did quite like it this way. He had his own corner in the world, didn’t need to worry about money, could eat delicious meals and could even discuss some scientific matters with a few other enlightened individuals. And the prize for winning the game was even more tempting. Just imagine how much quicker he could develop his project with all this cash.

♡— Despite all the focus on his own dreams and scientific infatuations, Luca didn’t stray from engaging in interactions with other people. He’s certainly considered as one of the friendliest and most cheerful people in here. Some wonder if anyone im here ever managed to get on his nerve. He’s just very tolerable towards most, if not all, however, clearly he feels most comfortable near people who are willing to listen to his info-dumps, or engage in smart conversations, ask questions and give suggestions. There weren’t much residents in the manor like this. Most are either uninterested or too weirded out, therefore the prisoner always appreciated the open minded ones.

♡— Sadly, Luca’s past whereabouts left a permanent scar on him, making him a little unaware to some social cues. This man can not pick up on someone being painfully visibly attracted to him. He assumes all people willingly interacting with him are either friendly or just curious. Luca likes showing off and exchanging ideas with his mentor Alva, asking Helena for advice and letting her touch all of his tools or projects, trying to connect nature with science together with Luchino, or even explaining his ideas to the suspiciously fascinated Florian.

♡— And then there was you. A person very shy, awkward even. Everyone didn’t mind your presence, you just existed in your own bubble, in silence. Sometimes, someone would try to include you in some conversation, and while you did appreciate the gesture you just couldn’t grasp why you felt so uncomfortable, barely able to form a meaningful sentence. That was until you first encountered a young, quite charming in his own way man personally. You instantly became fond of Luca Balsa. Something about him just radiated pure happiness. He genuinely wanted to talk with you, sensing your anxiety, and you have no idea whether it’s for better or worse, because, oh God - he made you feel butterflies in your stomach and needles in your heart. You’ve got a crush on the Oletus manor’s „Prisoner”.

♡— You didn’t know what to do. The newly discovered feelings for the boy made your anxiety far more intense than it already was. Something in your head just screamed to not get too attached, after all, this is Luca Balsa we’re speaking of, he most likely doesn’t view you as anything else but a companion in matches. But, of course, the heart always does whatever it wants, ignoring the brain. That’s how you found yourself standing in front of his dorm doors, reflecting on if it’s alright for you to knock on them. What if he’s too busy right now and you’re just going to be a burden? This was a part of your mastermind plan - try to get into his interests and become a closer friend, and then…. maybe the friendship could bloom onto something else? You were in deep wonder, unaware that the doors are now open and Luca was waving his hand in front of your face. Earth to you.

♡— Either way, you spent some quality time with him together. He was very pleased to hear that you wanted to find out more about his projects and shared several insights related to his future plans. His dorm felt oddly cozy. You didn’t even realize that visiting Luca became some sort of a habit of yours, entering his workplace nearly on a daily basis - it made you forget about all the atrocities you witnessed during the bloody games. His voice was so soft and gentle, his eyes beamed as you kept asking questions about what is he doing right now. Luca felt so glad to elaborate and ramble about his passion. He’d even offer you to help him, giving you simple tasks as asking you to bring a certain tool. He was well aware of your shyness, so he was as understanding as he could, not forcing anything onto you. One day, Luchino teasingly called you „Luca’s little assistant”. The intense colour of your cheeks spoke for itself. You were head over heels.

♡— Quickly enough, your small acts of kindness turned into something way more serious. At one point, you felt like Luca’s own caretaker, because he was literally too absorbed in his work to pay attention to his own well-being. After you began frequently assisting him in not only helping to build some programs, you just took care of his needs. While Luca would love to stay up all night and didn’t like when people complained about it, oddly enough, he didn’t hesitate to tuck himself into his bed after you offered the prisoner too. You made sure he went outside and ate enough. Simple gestures like that were your own way of showing him affection, as you were too shy to be verbally affectionate.

♡— The whole situationship was now taking way too long. You were absolutely crazy over Luca, while he viewed you as a good friend and a fast learning companion. Everyone could tell you were following him like a lost puppy outside of matches, and he didn’t mind it at all. You just wished he would finally pick up on your real intentions, but at the same time you felt worried. What if he won’t talk to you anymore? What if there will be weird tension between the both of you if you confess? On one ordinary day, you were sitting by his desk as always, silently reading the notes hanged on the cork board while Luca came to you and asked to help him draw a technical sketch in his work notebook, to which you agreed to. After months of practice in his dorm you already knew how to properly draw a project on a piece of paper with accurate proportions - yet this certain sketch was new to you, you weren’t quite sure how to do it. That’s when Luca held your hand and guided it, helping you be more precise, and what an amazing, ecstatic feeling it was, his hand contained a specific, electric even, feeling on top of that. You blushed so hard you were surprised Luca didn’t even notice, but you knew you can’t be with him this way. You were hurting yourself by not telling the truth.

♡— This is how you found yourself sitting on Lucas’s desk, looking down and fidgeting with your fingers after telling the prisoner to listen for a minute. The whole thing was so stressful you can barely remember anything from that moment, not sure if it’s because of your own anxiety or if it’s the curse of this wicked place you’re stuck in. Either way, your confession to him was probably the most awkward one this Manor has ever seen - and it certainly saw a lot. Luca was surprised he didn’t manage to connect the dots for so long. He was focused on all the wrong things and failed to notice your affection towards him. Those were a few painful months, but he was going to make sure you know he appreciates all the help, not only on the projects, but also helping him take care of himself. Luca asked you for permission to kiss you while holding your hand, which you agreed to, feeling happy like never, making all your shyness go away for once… which did not last long, as Florian entered the room without knocking, making a loud „EWW” sound. Luca was going to make sure no one will interrupt you, scribbling something about a doorbell in his notebook right after kissing you like his life depended on it. Turns out, Luca Balsa now has found something to look forward to in his life other that science and innovative inventions - which was you.

Thank you for your request anon… i hope you can read this fic in the afterlife at least… anyways this my first time writing a fic for a character i’m not very familiar with. I tried to be as accurate as i could so i’m sorry if it’s ooc 😭 anyways it’s 2am now… idv x reader tag how are you doing on this lovely summer night

The sillies

General dating HC's with the PJSK boys!

《◇ AKITO ◇》

♡-> he teases you like, a lot 😦 expect him to attack you from behind when you're not expecting it

♡-> even if he does tease you, he gets flustered super easily. Hug him or compliment him once and he turns beet red

♡-> loves competing with you for stupid stuff. Who can give the other the best gift is something thats done a lot

♡-> tbh hes a big idiot when it comes to love- it probably takes him a while to actually realize he likes you

《♤ RUI ♤》

♡-> he's so used to being treated like a weirdo so having a s/o in his life like you makes him really happy

♡-> he gifts you his inventions for special occasions (ex. your birthday or Christmas)

♡-> he prolly is scared of being rejected :< you have to confess to him first or else this scrunkly will be pining for ages

《♡ TOYA ♡》

♡-> he is really blunt 💀 will not beat around the bush while confessing "y/n, I have feelings for you"

♡-> he plays the piano and violin for you sometimes (and if you play an instrument, sometimes you guys do duets)

♡-> goes over to your house when he's had a rough day with his dad and you guys just cuddle and cheer each other up

《☆ TSUKASA ☆》

♡-> he's literally so oblivious to everything- drop the most obvious hint and he won't know 💀

♡-> when you guys do start dating though, he shows you off like a trophy. "Yup, this is my y/n! They're amazing, I know!"

♡-> free tickets to his shows?!?! He attempts to do better in shows that you're watching

♡-> he calls you "my star" a lot, but I'm sure he has a whole arsenal of pet names for you

And it's also shown in Shin's memory thing(when you give him the lantern at chap3) he mentions about him seeing Midori as an older brother!

Hello, yttd fan. I've heard you enjoy both shin tsukimi and midori's characters. In front of you is a pencil and a sheet of paper. Right now I will show you multiple scenes from the game that talk about shin and midori, which include:

Shin having a panic attack upon seeing a photo of Midori

AI Shin talking about how Midori enjoyed seeing him scared

Midori saying he wants to kill Shin and considering it a display of affection

Midori immediately killing AI Shin when he showed some semblance of independence

Now, using the pencil and paper, you will write your thoughts about these scenes. If your notes conclude that Shin and Midori are a cute healthy couple, imply that there's no power imbalance in this character dynamic, or use the words "toxic yaoi" at any point, I will activate the mechanism which will drop this church organ on your head. Good luck.

this is just not so unpopular opinion from me but i cant give a shit about bsd anymore tbh....... i'm getting bored at the current pace of the manga and the plot. i don't like the way the story is written right now. i do like their banters/yapping/messages/speeches about politics and war tho. i think it's an interesting read. but for a series that is full of fast-paced action, the manga is sure slow as hell. i feel like the monthly release schedule and pages for a chapter are dragging away the intensity and tension of the supposed action in the manga. one month is enough to forget the 'hype' yk?

as someone on reddit says: "my favourite thing about bsd are everything BUT the main manga" and i have never felt validated. while i don't follow the main manga on time or as hardcore, i still consider myself a fan. i think my favourite part of bsd is gaiden and nikolai. hell, i think i've been too fixated on nikolai that i am more interested in my fanon understanding of his character rather than what canon has shown us—not that they are ever enough

so yea, not really looking forward to further chapters that much. i don't even mind spoilers or anything. i see spoilers way before i read the chapter. i feel like the story goes downhill on recent chapters but i couldn't quite put a finger on it. but i can safely say, the next half of the DoA arc is really not doing it for me. there are good moments, yes, but they all passed by so quickly and somehow, i can see characters who have fallen (i.e. the 'dead') will return back alive and well and safe.

i still don't like how fyodor's ability is not actually having something to do with lethal touch. i genuinely think his 'actual' ability doesn't give Crime and Punishment its sense and grace in a way. i mean, nikolai's ability is The Overcoat and although i firmly believe his ability is not limited to clothes/coats, it's still shown that his cloak is a big part of his use of his ability.

and besides, lethal touch is threatening in its own way anyway... making fyodor to be an ageless immortal feels like taking away the humanization in him, if that makes sense? immortal who is pure evil? pfft haa classic villain in the marvel universe. an anemic human who has a deadly yet simple ability and managed to start wars around the world?

terrifying. intimidating. human.

You know those illustrations from the old times where people predict what inventions will be made in the future? Like when people think we would have flying cars?

Imagine the survivors/hunters questioning you things like "is there a robot broom? A self making coffee machine?" All the other shenanigans

(just search and you'll see)

i took way too long to answer your ask Seth oooh my bad 😭😭 I think you're talking about retrofuturism, or maybe just the instinct that humans have of thinking about the future.

I think that player would be bombed with questions, there is at least 10 fucking dm's on their game, now if they get into the game? Oh, the most organized way to answer all of their questions would be to arrange a meeting where they take turns to ask you questions. Some of them have high expectations, while others are subtly interested, it's a subject that everyone has thought about and so that brings a lot of the residents to chat with you. Expect a few disappointed sighs when you tell them that no, flying cars do not exist but at least we do have coffee machines.

—

You don't know how you got into this situation, answering 101 questions in the main hall while you were supposed to be asleep, while everyone else is in their 5th sleep but you are stuck with the rambling Luca Balsa that runs his mouth like you're a celebrity and he is the interviewer with 5 minutes to have all his questions answered. And as much as you should be annoyed by him keeping you awake for so long, you can't. He is shining, reveling on the million possibilities and ideas, eyes gleaming with the newfound knowledge and a smile that just seems to remind you of how charming he could be if he wanted.

He has been sitting on the opposite sofa until now, crossed leg dangling back and forth as he glances at you to ensure that you're listening. You blink once, twice, and there is additional weight on your right side. Although in a safe distance, he remains with you, his voice clearly overfilled with enthusiasm yet so calm. He interrupts himself with a small "oh," before you hear his next words.

"My apologies, perhaps I talked too much! Mind if I walk you back to your room? You can get lost. Please, I insist. Under this prisoner uniform I'm still a gentleman."

is this how you write for luca balsa cuz im clueless as fuck

clinging to the only manor guest who makes you feel safe various idv charas + you (platonic)

for @ninacottoncandy

🦈✈️🧲🔗❤️‍🩹

Here are the reader's traits described in the original ask: You have grown really attached to them and won't let them go, following them like a lost duckling. They're the only one you act energetic around, while you're shy and scared around others. It's later revealed that you were neglected back home resulting in abandonment issues.

🦈 Leo

Leo sees something in you that he can't exactly pinpoint. Maybe you fill a loss that he's tucked into the crevasses of his memory. Maybe you represent a second chance at one of his lingering regrets. Whatever it is, he swears that no harm will come to you as long as he's around.

He sneaks you the universal passcode to the arms factory's exit gates, with instructions written in his messy scrawl: "Play the game. Do what they ask. Use for emergensy only." It's not the first time he's been punished for breaking the rules, but that's a trivial thing if it means protecting you.

Before your first game, he brings you a gift, a crude little thing that's obviously handmade. It's a miniature red-and-purple striped rocket chair made for dolls. You find it a little childish, but Leo attaches a story to it: "If bad guy catches you. 1, 2, 3, blast off. Trapped again."

That's a bit grim, but cute, you suppose. You're not sure why he gave it to you, though.

✈️ Charles

As a man of few words and a perpetual poker face, his fondness for you might not be that obvious. But he finds you terribly endearing. He doesn't mind having you in his shadow at all. It won't be long before he starts feeling very protective of you.

In an attempt to get closer to him, one day you ask to try out his jetpack. He's always tinkering with the thing, so he must have a lot to say about it, right? The moment you reach for it, something in Charles snaps, and with a panicked shout he knocks you off it before cradling his device tightly in his arms. With that look of abject terror in his eyes, one would think you were trying to murder his baby. You never thought it was even possible for him to raise his voice like that.

The truth is, he couldn't have cared less about the jetpack. He was worried about losing someone else to his faulty machine. The guilt for frightening you plagues him for weeks after. He dedicates the next few months to working on a device that stabilizes his hand tremors. Not for his own sake, but because he can't bear to disappoint you—he wants to build something safer for you to try, and needs a reliable hand to do it.

🧲 Norton

Finds it bothersome. He has an unspoken agreement with the rest of the manor to steer clear of each other, what’s not clicking for you? He doesn’t exactly radiate sunshine and rainbows. Why you got attached to him of all people is something he can’t wrap his head around.

He won’t go out of his way to talk to you, which you can consider a small mercy from him. If forced he’ll bluntly shut down the idea of being your “protector” or whatever role you’ve arbitrarily assigned to him. He’s not here to babysit anyone, especially not for free. Doesn’t matter what your story is.

It seems like the best way to win his favor is by giving him space. And start hoping he’ll warm up with time. With the manor's stretches of eternity in store for you, you can certainly spare the wait.

🔗 Ada & ❤️‍🩹 Emil

The first time you begin yearning for them remains clear in your memory. They're huddled together over the kitchen stove, morning sun filtering through the open window. Ada explains how to flip an omelette while Emil is paying more attention to her gentle hands than her technique. Once in a while their soft giggles rise above the sound of sizzling oil.

Watching them, suddenly you aren't at the manor anymore. You're in one of those big, bright two-story houses from the stories you read as a child, the ones with the perfect families and happy endings to every trouble that comes their way. Ada and Emil probably don't even realize how picture-perfect they look in this moment, how similar they are to the families you thought only existed once upon a time. Their love makes you jealous, but you crave it just as much.

Sharp as always, Ada is quick to notice you observing them. You fear a round of questioning but instead she says, "Good morning. Do you want something? How do you like your eggs?" and Emil pipes in a second later with "Onions okay?"

It's such a casual sentiment, but it takes you aback. Most manor guests aren't glowing examples of neighborly people, you've learned that the hard way. But your wishful thinking gets the better of you, so you play along. They bring out a plate of your breakfast and sit with you at the table. You remember thinking, even if they are tricking you and these eggs are poisoned and you never wake up again, it would be nice to go with this fairy tale family as your last memory. But you get to enjoy a delicious breakfast and the remaining hours of the day without issue.

The same thing happens the next morning, and the one after that.

Emil's prowess with the frying pan drastically improves as the days go by, and soon he starts waking up ahead of Ada to surprise her. Some days include you, with him gently nudging you out of bed, eager smile on his face as he teaches you all the cooking tricks Ada taught him. He also shows you a notepad he keeps, with lists titled: Ada favorites. Good food for a bad day. Restront menus (make at home). And a new addition: What (Y/N) likes.

＃HOMICIPHER !! ♡ — DWELLING, ROTTING, SURVIVING (MR CRAWLING X READER).

#. synopsis! — speaking isn't the only way to understand, and he's oh so gentle .

#. characters! — mr crawling .

#. warnings! — canon-typical dark content + setting .

#. word count! — 1.7k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — hi, i posted, please stop bullying me in my inbox :(( - all jokes aside, thank you guys for all the nice messages and compliments! & happy pride to my lgbt followers! funnily enough, don't think i've ever "come out" on this blog, but if it's not obvious, i'm bisexual lol so there's that!

You found yourself pressed against a cold, damp wall in what you could only assume was a room close to the belly of this labyrinth-like building. Breaths came in shallow, frightened gasps as the lights overhead flickered ominously, like they were trying to warn you of impending danger. . . Danger that you felt sting your chest like needles poking through your skin. The oppressive silence surrounding you was broken only by your intakes of air and the soft, almost imperceptible sound of something —or someone— (or maybe a mixture of the two, in this God-forsaken place) nearby.

Squinting into the gloom, a familiar shape emerged from the dark hallway, slipping into the room with you and pausing in the doorway. You felt relief take hold of you.

Mr Crawling. . .

That, of course, likely wasn’t his real name, but you didn’t speak in the language of clicks, noises, and chirp-like sounds that he did, and he didn’t speak with your tongue either. It was for that reason in particular that you’d bludgeoned his head with a crowbar not long ago, to which he sulked in a corner, bleeding and whining, and you were left to feel terrible for hurting the first entity that had tried to go out of his way to show you true empathy in a way you understood.

Apologizing didn’t even begin to feel like enough. Probably because you were at least ninety percent sure he didn’t understand what you were saying anyway. Helping him with the wound perhaps made it slightly better. . . But also not really, because even now as he skims across the ground to where you are, there’s a sense of guilt that weighs heavy on your heart.

Pale, grey-skinned and moving like any non-human mammal of sorts, his face is mostly obscured by the long, stringy black hair that falls in vine-like, clumped strands all the way to the floor from his hunched position. There’s an unsettling, animalistic grace to the way he approaches, but you don’t flinch this time when he puts the flat of his cold palm against the crown of your head, as if trying to soothe your breathing. All of that initial fear has been replaced by a strange comfort of sorts, and you look up at him, thankful for his presence now more than ever.

He tilts his head, as if listening for something, and you watch him warily with the same crowbar clutched in your fist. A part of you felt bad carrying it around like that with his blood still smeared on it, but here, you knew it was foolish to venture around without a weapon of some sort. Not protecting yourself for the sake of his feelings was, unfortunately, not an option as far as you were concerned, but thankfully he didn’t seem to have any opinion on the matter.

“Mr Crawling,” you whisper softly, reaching out to take his hand into your own.

He seemed to really respond to physical touch, and if language was always going to get in the way, you figured it was best to bridge the gap in another manner. This was the next best thing you could think of.

His head raises, and you suppose he’s trying to meet your gaze, though you can’t see his eyes through the mess of his hair.

“I need to understand you,” you say.

Ironically, that’s a bit of a hopeless endeavor in this sort of environment. It’s not like you have all the time in the world to pick up a new, completely unrelated language to yours while fighting for your life. Still. . . Gesturing had been helpful previously, especially for directions. The hooded figure you ran into first was quick to point around, that severed hand that had guided you for a bit was just as poignant in that area, and the silver-haired entity with a blindfold over his eyes had also tried to communicate with you in that sense as well. So why couldn’t you do it vice-versa?

“Me,” you point to yourself, “you,” you point to him.

He stared blankly for a moment, then seemed to come to an understanding. His had retracted from your head to point at himself, then to you, a clicking noise coming from the back of his throat. You smile. It was a small victory amongst a series of devastating losses, but you were keen on taking it and running with it as far as you could stretch it.

“Okay,” you breathe, talking more to yourself than to him. “Let’s try this then. . .”

Feeling a surge of determination, you touch your stomach and then mime eating.

“Hungry. Eat.”

At this point, you were still too anxious to have an appetite, but you knew you’d need food eventually. You were hoping he’d be able to help you with that somehow. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen any evidence of there being food around here, —no containers, boxes, or wrappings, but he seemed to understand your gestures and mimicked you; sitting back on his knees to rub his stomach through his filthy t-shirt, then nibbling on an imaginary item.

He looks back to you, as if seeking approval. You smile, hoping he understands that to be a sign of good will, then nod your head to drive home the association. Beneath his swath of hair, he smiles too, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes through the curtain of black strands; dark and thoughtful.

“Good,” you murmur, feeling slightly relieved. 

If nothing else, this was progress. You spend a while longer trying to communicate basic needs and warnings: things like yes, no, stop, come, drinking, sleeping, and a thank you in the way of patting his head. You’re not sure he understood the depth of it by any means, but he did seem to enjoy it. . . Like a puppy. The thought made you smile genuinely and absentmindedly, if only for a moment. The clicks and chirps he makes are mostly lost on you, but the noises are comforting nonetheless. This rudimentary bridge of understanding soothes you just a little, and you find yourself feeling very thankful that he’s here in the first place.

He has your face cupped in his hands now, as if he’s inspecting you. . . Or perhaps admiring? That is, until you feel his body tense and all his little sounds abruptly come to a halt. A small growl reverberates from the back of his throat and his wide smile droops into a frown. Suddenly, he’s roughly dragging you along, tugging urgently on your arms, to which you comply and follow along with him, scooting across the floor until you reach a shadowed alcove. You hadn’t even noticed it before, but he seems to know his way around this place like the back of his cold, grey hand.

He covers your mouth for a moment, then shakes his head. You cover your mouth, take your hand away, then shake your head no, just to ensure to him that you’ve understood. He pats your head then crouches in front of you, using his own body as a makeshift shield for yours. His long, spindly arms cage you against the wall. Fear rises inside you once again, though not because of him and his actions. Rather, the faint, rhythmic thuds of footsteps have begun reverberating through the hall just outside, and you recognize the harrowing pattern they click in.

Mr Scarletella.

You encountered him once before and felt every hair on your body stand on end. The way he moved through the halls with a menacing flow that sounded almost eerily melodic, and the strange, unsettling red glow that seemed to exude off him that nearly drew you in like a moth to a flame. The steps echoed off the walls of the building and your heart began to hammer against your ribs. Mr Crawling moved closer as he came into view through the doorway that lacked any actual door to close, his long, black hair tickling your nose ever so softly. Dressed in scarlet and carrying his ever-present umbrella, you decide quite readily that you’ve seen enough, closing your eyes and focusing on the cool feel of Mr Crawling’s skin, on his musky scent (like mildew and a bit of rot, which isn’t necessarily pleasant, but it’s not like he can really help it down here.)

Though you’re no longer watching, the entity dripping in scarlet moves with an unsettling, almost predatory grace, glancing about the corridors as if he’s searching for something. Or someone.

Once again, Mr Crawling presses closer to you. Now, you’re able to feel the way his body trembles with fear, and you realize that he’s just as terrified as you are, though you can’t tell if that fear is for himself, for you, or for both of you at once. And it’s not like you can ask. Still, you open your eyes just long enough to look up at him, Mr Scarletella in your peripheral as you force a smile and touch the crown of Mr Crawling’s head, offering what little comfort you can. He still quivers, but seems to appreciate the gesture, though he doesn’t risk a happy chirp.

The danger passes as the man in scarlet disappears down the hallway, then turns the corner. You let out a silent sigh of relief and Mr Crawling relaxes after several moments of continued tension, finally going limp and releasing you from against the wall. He slumps onto his knees, which seems to be his most comfortable position, and he looks at you clearly through the darkness. In that moment, it feels like you’ve understood one another perfectly. 

“Thank you,” you whisper sincerely, though you know he can’t really understand you.

You’re just hoping the gratitude comes across somehow, but at the risk that it won’t, you touch your chest over top of where your heart’s still beating like a drum, then touch his chest in the same place. It dawns on you that you don’t feel a heartbeat at all, and you almost pull your hand away. . . But something stops you. Something that says even if you’re right and he’s something less (or more) than human, —it doesn’t matter as much as the kindness he’s shown you. So your hand lingers until you softly pull away.

He grabs your cheeks again and holds them delicately.