if you want a
m o n s t e r,
i can show
f u c k i n g
( MONSTER )
✚ M U N | I N F O R M A T I O N ✚
Name: reg—- amanda.
Nicknames: mandy, turtle, nerd, goof, gina, petto.
Wishlist Nickname: never thought about it.
Birthday: feb 5th.
Eye Color: brown.
Hair Color: brown.
Ethnicity: caucasian and a bit hispanic.
Relationship Status: married to jovi.
Character(s) Most Identifies with: torn between cirucci and bambietta.
Hobbies: music, i play violin and cello.
Special talent(s): again, i’d go with music.
Warning/disclaimer: i am a little shit.
Struggling With: anemia and panic disorder.
✚ M U S E | I N F O R M A T I O N ✚
Name: bambietta basterbine.
Nicknames: bambi-chan.Wishlist Nickname: bambi-sama.Birthday: june 21.Height: 160cm.Eye Color: purple.Hair Color: purple.Ethnicity: was born in italy.Lives in: silbernRelationship Status: killing peopleClassification: quincySpecial talent(s): the explodeWarning/disclaimer: she’s gonna fuck you upStruggling With: the worldIn conclusion: Same | Close as heck | Almost | Ehh...? Not Really | In a Galaxy Far Far Away
a little creepy girl
with her little creepy face
she’ll go and set the world on fire
no one ever thought she could do that
don’t know your name
it’s all the same
nothing lasts forever
as much as the quincy desperately longed to deny his request, she’d have to refrain herself from her selfish needs upon hearing the last order. those words had been spoken ( and now they were being repeated ) to her previously, and yet, the shattered dame was drawing vain attempts, allowing the words of
the fake God to fall upon deaf ears.
do as I say—-
do as I say—-
the Devil has her loyalty; her head is bowed respectfully, recognizing his position with the sickest submission. he cannot see her eyes, for the cascade of purple tresses is a barrier which conceals the terrified woman’s face— but tears stain the porcelain of her pale cheeks.
do as I say—-
she can not bring herself to misery; there is no need follow the trail of his footprints— not when she can save herself ( or when she can pretend ) — because she knows he will never give the key to open the lock.
do as I say—-
… or you will suffer even more.
'—- I will… Tsukishima-sama…'
As expected. The instant his arm was released, her opposite hand impacted his sternum with more than a little force; though it was only shown in the slightest flinch of his eyelids. Rapidly, steps were taken. His back met the unyielding wall, and shortly thereafter a slender hand gripped his throat; sharp nails digging ever so slightly into the yielding flesh.
Trapped. He was trapped; pinned to the wall with a hand promising death wrapped around his throat. And still he smiled. Lips curved upwards into a jovial grin; as though he felt no fear and was not dangerously toeing a most deadly line. He had expected his words to incite such a reaction; though he had imagined that he’d have been cut down without hesitation, and yet…
And yet she made no immediate move to kill him. Her hand was wrapped around his throat, though there was no pressure; no intent to choke the life from his frame. Why? He found that somewhat confusing. The lack of intent to kill, despite the anger burning in her gaze, confused him. But then, he was still alive, and he would not question it.
"I suppose we do, Basterbine-sama."
he is asking for war.
he is begging for the worst of her.
he has forgotten the walls.
what he has done is unbelievable, inconceivable. people do not walk upon that line. people with common sense think twice, and they step aside after reaching the conclusion that their life is falling towards the danger zone. but he seemed to be an exception to the rule— no, he definitely was. but, why?
how was that even possible? where was the fear? where was the hesitation? why— he should be shaking in his boots, unable to even utter a word. he should back off, he should beg for mercy, even though that vicious cruelty was not foaming out of her pores; for she knew that he was fully aware of what was yet to come, if he persisted with that abstract demeanour.
‘don’t——’ a silent murmur sweeps its way between her lips.
'don't you dare—-' the phrase is almost inaudible, crushed by the weight of her breath, thick and hitched; cracking down her chest with a burst of adrenaline. her blood is bubbling, and it feels as if her heart was being burned down by the heat of her emotions; violent and destructive; the untamed beast which reigns over the food chain established by its own greed, rising to display its fangs.
ever so slightly, carefully, thin fingers begin to tighten around his throat — she has no intention of going all the way down and drain the oxygen out of his lungs, no, at least not yet. 'why would you?' why— why would you, soldat?!' teeth gritted, purple hues lit up in anger; his smile had been the trigger for such a display— heavens, how could this be? he was making a game out of it or it was his personality?
I suppose we do.
bambietta had never wanted to kill someone — not like now. death itself would be something weak, compared to what he was doing to her. he had to learn, he had to know the place to which he belonged to— and she, was more than willing to teach this lesson. yet, there was something else. it was nothing she should worry about, and most likely she would not; however, there was the possibility that the explode might be wrong. basterbine was impulsive, she never studied options and choices — it made perfect sense.
but why avoid it, when she could get away with no problem?
she was the favored portion— she was the one who would have a satisfied smile upon her lips at the end of it, was not it? so, why bother with the consequences?
'well, well— I'm thinking about a lot of stuff now—' her voice would not betray how she was feeling, nor would her hand. the cage signed upon his flesh had become something relevant, he would soon realize, and react. but once again, it was not enough to steal his breath away. and her motives, the reason why she had refused to go ahead— well, they were simple enough to be understood. they were in a hallway, exposed to the open — she could not risk it and slip up.
'— and I'll set you free, m'kay? and then, we'll have a civilized conversation. I'm in no mood to face a situation like this, and I bet you also don't want it, yeah? oh, once I let go of you— all you have to do is follow me, are we clear?'
her throat feels dry.
this is like a sting, the kiss of a blade
piercing through the layers of her skin,
figuratively, in the sense of the word.
she’s staring at him; no syllable falling
to the tip of her tongue.
what is there to say, after all?
words silenced by the weight of her own doubts.
she was failing, she was falling —- but for how long
this would last?
‘I… I… I canno——…’
Maybe she’ll remember “that”. The poker invading his left hand.
’—- And you will.’
He waves it, shepherding his victim towards Candice.
’Or you’ll suffer even more.’
further silence upon the words spoken by him, her gaze focused on the surface of the ground as she tries her best to avoid it, even though she knows she is committing an unforgivable mistake. there are two voices screaming in the back of her head, one that seeks to keep herself safe ( this one being the one which commands her to go ahead and do as she was told ) — and a second one ( that one which ignores the danger he represents, for she herself is too scared to listen to him. )
’what do you want?’
this is wrong— but the question itself was all she needed to breathe in relief; to shatter herself with a new lie, once again.