big tiddy goth gf (
teaserving) wrote in
sleepytimejunction2020-05-02 09:06 pm
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electric tapestry

It's been a couple of years since he'd left Italy. Primarily, his skills in speaking English help him get along, especially with his various contract jobs. Of all of them, the Speedwagon Foundation pays the nicest, and the money is usually clean -- that's not exactly typical of most places, but it's kind of refreshing for a change of pace.
Not that Abbacchio probably deserves clean money.
Anyway, he's technically off shift, not that he'd care if he was still on the clock, as it were. He's seen this guy around a few times and hasn't really cared to know who he is, just kind of assumes he's probably upper management somewhere. He isn't bad to look at, but Abbacchio doesn't exactly play nice either. He'd said something along the lines of stop staring or fucking do something about it to the man.
That's about what led him to being on his knees in a closet sucking the guy's dick. Not that he has a problem with it; if he hadn't wanted to, he'd have put up a fight but he genuinely didn't expect him to be this big. To Abbacchio's credit, he doesn't choke, though.
He slides off with a lewd, wet pop and strokes him.
"This all you wanted? Fucking up my lipstick? That shit isn't cheap, stronzo."
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He's careful as he lowers the guy back down to his feet, focusing himself on keeping his legs steady so he doesn't do something stupid like drop both of them. He can feel it, though, the way his knees are starting to get a little rubbery — hah, he's not as young as he used to be, either — and so he focuses on the little necessary bits of cleanup while he's still got the attention span to do it, sliding out of his partner and tying off the condom, and finding something to lean up against while he catches his breath.
...Fuck.]
Hm.
[Shit. Hell, that was a lot.]
...Well?
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Well? Well what, a part of him wants to snap, but he feels a bit softer after all of that.]
Not bad.
[He lets out a breath, sighing.]
Stronger than I thought you'd be. [Which was-- really fucking something.]
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[He watches him a minute, lost in thought. He still doesn't even know this man's name; he could find out, his looks are easily unique enough. But does he want to? Or does he just let this end at the threshold of the door, and as soon as they both step through it, they're strangers once again?
Something to think about. He'll have to figure that out soon, but maybe not quite yet.
There's black lipstick smudged all over the guy's mouth; he really looks like he's been through hell. Unable to resist, Jotaro reaches over and runs his thumb along the curve of the corner of the other man's mouth, cleaning a bit of it away.]
Whole world's gonna know it, too, unless you get cleaned up.
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[Not to say he won't. This is one of the better experiences he's had all around, despite it being a quick mess inside of a closet.
The way his fingers wipe at his skin, wiping away black. It's-- weird and oddly tender, and he feels mixed about it. He finds himself jerking back a little, trying to figure this out.]
That's my problem. [It hurts, but he's squirming to pull up his pants. He'll tidy himself up a bit in the closest bathroom and head to his cramped apartment.] We're done, aren't we?
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[He could do something. Call a cab for him. Make some kind of arrangement. Not just leave him to whatever he'll do next, his own mess to clean up.
But that's his own hangups talking again. His compulsion to fix problems, to remedy things where he can. This guy doesn't need him to do any of that. Hell, he probably doesn't want him to. Sure, he's softened and quiet now, but Jotaro hasn't easily forgotten what a spitfire he is when he's in full possession of his senses.
He can't even give him cab fare. Too much like paying him for this, it's insulting.
So he does nothing. Just gets himself back into his pants and pulls them up, trying to make himself look halfway presentable lest he run into someone on his way out of this closet.]
Probably shouldn't leave at the same time.
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[Honestly he doesn't even see what the fuss is, but if this guy is up his own ass about it, fine. He shrugs and shoves himself out the door, not waiting to even be nice enough to let him go first. Why would he? After this, they'll be perfect strangers again. It won't matter. Nothing ever lasts.
Abbacchio is headed for the closest restroom, just a short walk from the closet. So consumed with the innate instinct to just get away from something that startled him, he ignores everything else.
Then, suddenly, he finds himself with an arrow through his neck.]
Th' fuck--? [He wheezes out, stumbling against the wall, his fingers just barely touching the golden arrow sticking out from his throat. There's probably someone talking, but he can't understand what the fuck they're saying, he's too busy thinking to himself sure thought it'd be liver poisoning or a bullet instead of a randomass arrow.]
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And there, lying on the ground, is the guy he'd just fucked and someone else standing over him, hand wrapped around the shaft of the arrow sticking out of his victim's throat.
He doesn't think; he just launches himself at the bastard, summoning Star Platinum even as he lunges, determined to attack and neutralize the threat first and above all else.]
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He coughs, touching his throat as it finally feels like the ringing comes to a pitch and pops.
And now there's a second, much more slender purple man standing over him.
Oh my god was that guy's dick covered in drugs, is the stupidest thing Abbacchio can think of right now but he has no other explanation as he watches Big Purple beat the shit out of the arrow man.]
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Right now, there's an infinitely more pressing concern, and it's the fact that he can't turn his attention to the downed man with the hole in his neck until he's sure that the arrow man is handled, and oh, fuck, hold on, guy whose name he doesn't even know (shit!), don't die, don't die, don't die.
A good fifty punches later, there's a new dent in the warehouse wall and a collapsed heap of schoolkid beneath it, and Jotaro drops to his knees to try to assess the damage, bringing Star with him as he checks for a pulse and a heartbeat.]
Don't let him die, Star...
[Keep his heart beating even if he has to do it manually. Keep his lungs working even if that has to be done for him, too. Don't let him die, don't die, don't die.
It's only afterward, hazy and disoriented in the aftermath of his adrenaline rush (or is it a panic attack? he can't even tell) that he looks up at the slender purple Stand hovering nearby, and squints at it uncertainly.]
Are you his?
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Abbacchio stares up at both the man he'd just walked away from and whatever the other thing is. Did he just call it Star? What the fuck is going on?]
Wha...
[The more slender looking figure's appearance shifts through static and sound before it's back to what it looked like before, crouching over Abbacchio and petting his hair slowly, as if fretting.]
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You imitated me.
[That's going to be something to wonder about at a later date, though. Right now, there's a much more pressing concern and it's the bleeding form of his fuckbuddy, now with a hole in his throat.
He crouches down, getting a hand behind the man's shoulders and another under his knees, and lifts him carefully, trying to leave room for Star to continue monitoring him while he gets him balanced.]
Hey. Hang in there. I'm going to get you to a hospital.
[And get somebody in here to apprehend the schoolkid and secure whatever weapon he used — there's a lot to get done and it all needs to be done fast.]
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He's clutching at his neck, confused, jerking away when he feels the slender purple thing try to touch him.]
What the fuck is going on?
[He debates trying to wrench out of the arms holding him and eventually decides that maybe it's better like this because nothing makes sense right now.]
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[The guy shouldn't be able to talk through that wound. It shouldn't be healing the way it is, either, so rapidly. It reminds him of how the purple Stand had touched his hair, hovering over him so protectively. Maybe it has some sort of healing ability...?
Or — no, he saw its ability, didn't he? It mimicked him. So what, then, is going on?
It's got to be something to do with that arrow. Okay. So first things first, get this guy to a medic, and then go get that fucking arrow and secure it so that maybe they can all get to the bottom of this mess.
He sends Star back for it on an afterthought, carrying his white-haired fling as briskly as he can to the nearest guard station on the perimeter of the warehouse, and starts barking orders. They snap to attention almost immediately; he cuts a well-known figure around the Foundation, assuming he's interacting with the employees and not the contractors.]
Find a medic, and get security down here to surround this building. Right now.
[He glances down at the guy in his arms, at the way his fingers are curled in the lapel of his white coat.]
I'll come back. But I need you to let go right now. ...I'll come back.
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But they're moving, and of course the other man is carrying him like he weighs nothing; he already knows how strong he is and it's so damned weird to be the one lifted anyway, like he's some damsel. The more confusing, pressing issue is how everyone seems to be scrambling to take orders from this guy without question.
...Okay. Okay, just who did Abbacchio fuck again?
He blinks absently when he's being spoken to, then realizes he's been holding onto his coat this entire time. Abbacchio pulls his hand back sharply like he's been burned, then closes his eyes and nods.]
Yeah. All right.
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Checks written, sometimes, for the property damage. Ho-hum.
It's an even bigger problem that this took place inside a Foundation warehouse, which raises all sorts of new questions about the user's possible motives, the contents of the warehouse, the connections he might have had to his targets, and all of that is going to have to be Jotaro's problem right now, so off he goes. What a fucking pain. There goes all of his stress relief, completely botched.
Meanwhile, a medical team soon arrives on the scene and rounds on Abbacchio, briskly taking stock of his healing throat injury and the other minor scrapes he might've incurred from taking a concrete floor to the back of his head when he fell.
I'd like to get your statement, please, one of them says tactfully, after he's been fussed over a while. If you think you're up to it. Can you recount for me what happened?]
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Then there's this shit, whatever it is. He doesn't say anything as he's tended to, but it's still weird the wound in his throat is just gone. He really thought that was going to be it for him, but somehow it healed.
He's absently touching his neck when he hears the question. Recount what happened...
It appears again, the slim purple being. It sounds like a dial-up modem and a ringing signal. There's a timer on its brow, and the numbers are rolling until it's changing shape like it did before.
The face it chooses makes him scramble back, pointing, having no idea that the medical staff won't be able to see it.]
What the fuck is that thing?!
[Abbacchio, stai attento! It rewinds with that face, playing the same clip, the same face, the same voice.]
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So she goes after him, grasping him by the arm, and tries to keep him from rattling around any further.
Please, you've got to stay still! she insists. What are you seeing? There's nothing there!]
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[It sounds hysterical, and he knows he does, but he's desperate to make whatever it is stop, stop looking like him, and it makes his heart ache.]
It's right there--
[They can't see it, he realizes belatedly. For whatever reason, they can't see it, but the man he was with could.]
The other guy that was here. In the white coat, he could see it. Where is he?
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Aiko, the medic at Abbacchio's side says, too calmly, to the one with her fingers frozen around her pencil. Run.
A long moment passes, and then suddenly the medic with the pencil drops everything she's holding and bolts, running as fast as she can for the warehouse, while the one at Abbacchio's side curls inward and braces herself like she's expecting...
...something that never comes.
After a moment, she peeks up, glancing first in the direction of the nothingness before turning her attention slowly back to Abbacchio. When she speaks, it's in a whisper, barely moving her lips.
What is it doing? You can see it, but I can't, she murmurs, voice unnaturally steady. Is it about to attack?]
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He peers up at the thing wearing Florentino's face, wanting it to stop, stop making him think about back then, stop rewinding--]
I don't... think so.
[Despite how distressed he is, it isn't about attacking him. Maybe it's just here to haunt him.]
I don't think it's aggressive.
[The opposite, actually. Wasn't it touching him earlier, trying to help him? But if it's so fucking friendly, why is it tormenting him?]
It showed up after that kid shot me with some kind of arrow. I don't know anything else.
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Then, she glances down, like she's taking stock of the width of the room, and how far it is to the space where Abbacchio was pointing, before finally regarding him again.
Well — is it yours? she offers finally. Tell it to do something. Um...pick up Aiko's pencil. Can you tell it to do that?]
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Hey. You. [Abbacchio is glaring at this thing.] You heard her. Stop what you're doing and get that pencil.
[The replay stops finally to his relief, its form shifting back into whatever it's supposed to be. It's sad, but it's somewhat unsettling base appearance is largely preferable to what it looked like before.
The lanky purple thing crouches down, picking up the pencil, tilting its head and looking at it. It approaches, leaning down and offering it to the medic.]
It, uh. ...It's trying to give it back to you.
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She reaches out by way of demonstration, taking it from where it is (to her eyes) floating in midair, and as she does so, the other medic returns in a hurry with Jotaro in tow, looking breathless and harried.
It's almost comical, the way that Jotaro takes up essentially the entire doorway with the breadth of his shoulders, but he peers inside, looking from the man on the ground to the medic nearby, and then to the now-returned slender purple Stand before glancing back to the medic that came to fetch him.]
It's fine. That one's not an enemy.
[O-Oh... Aiko whimpers, still a little pale-faced. I just thought — when he said there was something in here with us —]
I know what you thought. It's fine. Is he well enough to talk?
[Um...yes! Yes, of course, the other medic says, and the two of them hurriedly get their things together and make way as Jotaro steps into the room and they depart it, leaving the two men alone again.]
...Your throat healed over. Does it still hurt?
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Clearly, he has the answers.
Abbacchio shoves himself to his feet, brushing off the purple thing who reaches out to help.]
I'm fine. But I still have no idea what the hell is going on.
You can see this. Can't you? [He points at it.] And there was another one you called Star.
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[He recites the description, sort of matter-of-factly, then sidesteps a little to make room for Star Platinum to appear at his side, bigger and bulkier than the other purple Stand in their midst.]
People who don't have one can't see them. That's why you scared the nurses. Most of the staff around here knows that there's a protocol for "strange things are happening but you can't see the source"; they thought it might've been something belonging to that guy from the warehouse, trying to finish you off.
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