"La vita va avanti."

[sharktrash]

Who: Squalo and: Xanxus, Genos, Koumei, YOU!
What: Catch-all for January Shenanigans.
When: Jan 1st-15th ish
Where: MANTICORE penthouse, Pride HQ, possibly elsewhere
Warnings: language, violence, dicks out, the usual. will detail for each toplevel

(( Prompts in toplevels below! Feel free to tag into the ones marked as OPEN. I am still waiting on details for some of them, hence "placeholders" since I wanted to put the threads up in chronological order. They'll be there soon enough! Also, feel free to PM this account or hit me up on Plurk if you want a thread, too! ))

Comments

[sharktrash]

...

[ Well. It's just as well now. ]

[ He pointedly looks in the opposite direction as he simply holds his left hand out for her. ]

[ Even without removing the glove, she'll probably notice that it seems... hard, and cold, and heavy, and he won't seem to notice if she begins touching it. ]

[scalpedsociety]

[This is not his hand... this is not the feeling of a real hand. She doesn't even have to pull off the glove. Someone... or something took his left hand and replaced it with a prosthetic. What in the hell?

She wants to panic, wants to scream at this and end whoever did this to her most treasured student and son. But Tamara remains calm... she has to be for her Little Shark.]

Squalo...

WELP DIDN'T IMAGINE THIS WAS POSSIBLE thanks brainwashing

[sharktrash]

[ NOPE STILL LOOKING AWAY. Is he sort of shaking? He might be. ]

[ Music is his life. It's the one thing he's always been good at, the one thing he's sacrificed everything for and perfected since he was a little boy. And now, as far as he's concerned, it's been taken from him. What if he can never play again? From how he's fared today, that seems likely. ]

[ In which case, what's the fucking point to keep on living? Even the fact that the weight feels somewhat right in the back of his mind doesn't make it any better. ]

[ Nope, here comes a sob. And he's just going to turn around and rest his head against her chest, as if seeking comfort like that little kid who'd just heard his father call him a mistake. ]

FUCK U BRAINWASHING.

[scalpedsociety]

[She feels the loss too. She put years of blood, sweat, sacrifice, and tears into that hand. Squalo is her best and brightest, her son. Not only does she feel a mothers pain of practically seeing her son become crippled, but Squalo was meant to be her successor. Meant to pass on what she knew to the next student that was worthy.

They not only crippled her son, but took her future away. A legacy that doesn't involve blood. She will find a way to help him, but right now? It's bleak.

She's struggling not to cry herself. Shaking while holding him, stroking his hair. It is like that time when he first hugged her, seeking comfort in the arms of someone who wasn't his blood.]

Let it out, Little Shark. Let it out...

SERIOUSLY cw: sui...cide mention kinda

[sharktrash]

[ He's not sure if the gentle touches make it better or worse, to be honest. He supposes it means she's not throwing him away as soon as he stops being benefitial, which is reassuring, but it also just makes what happened to him and his hatred for it contrast and stand out more. ]

[ The sobbing eventually dies down, but he stays there, face in her bossom and all. He doesn't think he's got the strength to move and face the world again. He doesn't feel like he ever will. ]

What am I supposed to do?

[ His voice's shaky, barely a whisper - some might be surprised he's even capable of it, given how loud he usually is. ]

[ Considering the only solution coming to his mind right now is taking to the top roof of the Pride tower, with the whole city laid out beneath him, and taking a step forward, he could probably use some kind of guidance right now. ]

[scalpedsociety]

[Why would she? Squalo is more important to her than just being useful. He may disagree, but she loves him even he stops playing. You're her son.]

Today... we don't think about playing the cello. Tomorrow we wake up and do what you're best at, being stubborn as hell. Or at least, I'll have to be stubborn for you. Can you do that?

[Her voice is gentle. Also don't fucking do that, Squalo. (It will remind her of things she doesn't want to think about, the flashes of horrible things in her head.) The aftermath of that will probably lead to your teacher losing her mind or her going right after you, Squalo. Please don't do that to yourself or her.]

[sharktrash]

[ Ma. ;A; ]

I don't know. I'll try. If -- I can't stop. If I stop playing I'll die.

[ He mutters it into her dress, still quieter than usual, though his voice's regained a bit of that signature sharpness. ]

[ Don't you know that sharks never sleep and never stop swimming, or they'll sink into the depths? That's him and fighting making music. Guess there's more meanings to his name than might meet the eye, huh. ]

[ But she does plant a little seed of hope in him again. Damn right, he's stubborn. Yeah, it feels hopeless... but he's not really going to let some trivial shit like a hand stop him from living his dreams, right? ]

[scalpedsociety]

[She still strokes his hair, trying to comfort him. But her words are firm, filled with resolve for him.]

Don't say that, don't even fucking entertain that. You WILL play again, Squalo. I don't care if I have to reteach you from square one.

...Just not today.

[sharktrash]

[ What a good mom. He's so fortunate to have her. With a few more sniffs, he seems to calm down somewhat, and a minute later, actually raises his head to look at her. ]

Why?

[ Why wait? ]

[scalpedsociety]

I figured it was a bad day for you. But if you feel that you can handle learning today, I won't refuse you.

[She never really can.]

[sharktrash]

Well, it is. But it'll be even worse if -- if I just mope around and feel restless, right?

[scalpedsociety]

You're right. Stay determined... and stay stubborn. And I promise I'll help you get your skills back.

[sharktrash]

Thanks, ma.

[ ................a pause. He didn't really intend to call her that just now, but. Just as well, right? ]

[ After a moment, he continues, contemplatively; ]

I haven't exactly lost my skills, you know. I just can't gauge my force properly. I -- what I need is a way to be able to feel how hard I'm pressing the bow.

[scalpedsociety]

[Tamara looks at the false hand.]

The prosthetic is most likely too heavy and you can't feel how heavy you are pressing the bow to the strings. You need something to balance out the pressure or tell you when you're going too hard so you can adjust.

Your answer may be a physical one.

[sharktrash]

Hn.

[ If he's allowed, he'll back off a bit to sink into the back of the seat next to her, a somewhat disappointed look on his face. ]

That's not much to go on. [ A weak, skew smirk. ] Maybe I should just strap it to my arm instead.

[ ...he's not even sure where that idea came from. ]

[scalpedsociety]

[Tamara may actually think about that for a little while.]

That's... actually not a bad idea.

By strapping the bow to your arm with the prosthetic, the weight will be lightened by not using your new hand directly. You may have to adjust a bit by playing another way than most but... that might work.

[sharktrash]

[ Wow, mom, you're sure taking it in stride. He frowns and considers it as well, then shakes his head. ]

No. Too cumbersome to replace it if I still break it at some point. And I need wrist movements. But maybe this direction could work...

[ He slowly picks up a bow, takes it into his mechanical hand and sort of swings it around a bit. ]

[scalpedsociety]

[Listen, any crazy idea seems great when your son playing is in jeopardy. She stares at Squalo for a little while.]

It won't mean anything until we try this out. We will practice until we can find a style of playing that works for you.

[sharktrash]

[ ...his lips finally twitch upwards. ]

Yes, ma'am.

wrap this up after you?

[scalpedsociety]

[She kisses him on the forehead. She'll stay and work with him as long as it takes.]

That's my boy...

sure o/

[sharktrash]

[ And so they will. ]

[ It will take a day, two, three, but eventually they figure it out. That part of his forearm uncovered by the prosthetic for a better fit. A leather bracelet to stick the end of the bow through so whenever his hand presses it down, the other end presses into his arm. It takes a while to get accustomed to, but... it's something. It's a solution. ]

[ He can keep on playing, playing well, and most people won't be able to tell a difference. ]