(no subject)

[tropism]

WHO: GIORNO and u
WHERE: [waves hand]
WHEN: memshare event
WHAT: i have two prompts OTA and a few that are closed to some people who've specifically requested for certain things. if there's something else you'd like that isn't listed, pm me!
WARNINGS: see each prompt; warnings are underneath headers. giorno is a yellow, so the memory share will be physical! if you're going with the OTA prompt, you can pm me with how the contact will happen, otherwise we can put it down with some subtle gesture (acquaintances) or something a little bit more general (friends) or accidental (we can work it out or i'll roll with something).

A. DI MOLTO (OTA)
warnings for: generalized violence, choking, blood, body horror

[ whoever touches this memory will feel parts of their body be removed. the removal is swift and will seem like something has been shot from a distance, and upon contact to the skin, removes flesh and bone until a box-shaped hole is missing from the body. first, the throat, causing them to have problems breathing as the airway is removed. blood runs down the mouth as they struggle to breathe, though they're still alive. should they struggle - as giorno has done in the memory - chunks of the foot will be removed, an incison above the toes to prevent them from escaping. finally an attempt to remove the eyes, starting with the left eye. the near-certainty of the feeling that one will die, either from choking or something else.

in the memory giorno confronts an inhuman-looking gremlin which is melone's stand, though the character involved with the memory won't really know that. what they will feel after the momentary struggle to escape and minutes before passing out is also - the reversal of these effects. giorno standing and walking and talking, having figured out how to use gold experience in order to patch up the missing pieces of his body. something 'fits' into the hole on his throat and it expands into a pocket of skin that hisses and contracts as it slowly fills in the spaces where the box-shape was carved over the throat. a foot reconstituting itself, attaching bone and muscle inch by inch. an eye replaced. it feels like parts of the body crawling back into itself and melding into something more cohesive; one minute it isn't yours, and the next, entirely immobile like it had been your body all along. ]

B. BUCELLATI'S COMING (OTA)
warnings for: nausea, decapitation, dismemberment, depersonalisation

[ "my name is bruno bucellati. answer me! this interrogation has now become a torture session."

a train ride. supposedly to school, but that's interrupted for a little torture session with a man in a white suit and a bob cut. there is the physical feeling of being hit, and then all of a sudden, the feeling of bile rising to the throat only to realize that a dead man's fingers have come right out of the mouth, blood dripping from where they have been ripped from the joints.

"those are luca's fingers," bruno was saying. "in reality, they finished leaky-eyed luca off. the boss didn't see much point in keeping him alive .... if you don't start talking, the torture will escalate!"

giorno's neck starts to tilt on an unnatural degree - an almost perpendicular angle to the shoulder, and upon close inspection it feels like it's being held together by zippers around his neck. it will feel like the head has been detached and is hanging by a loose thread of muscle, unreal, the body unable to detect that it's in complete danger but recognizing the pain. ]

C. KIDS THESE DAYS (ZELDA)
warnings for: child abuse (physical violence, neglect)

[ this memory is of a child's: the body is significantly smaller and the surroundings much bigger, the light a lot more harsh than it has any right to be. there is a lot of yelling and screaming that thunders in the room, and it becomes clear from the feeble voice of the child that this man is meant to be a father figure. whatever it is that they are talking about it reduces the child to a small ball, shoulders hunched up in an attempt to protect himself, until the voices reach a fury that came out of nowhere. then follows physical blows: from a hand, from a belt, the backside of a shoe, again and again until one tastes the floor. iron in the mouth. the blows weren't brief and it seemed like they would go on forever, or for as long as the father could sustain it.

in the evening, a woman comes that is supposed to be the mother. she tucks him in and leaves. if she had seen the bruises, she makes no comments upon it. the child begs for the lights to be kept on, but the woman laughs. "don't be silly, haruno. how will you sleep?"

i'm scared -

"you're big now, you should know better than to be scared!"

the lights are turned off. the kid is left to deal with bruises beneath a thin blanket; from the muffled sounds in the pillows it sounds like he is whimpering and crying, until the voice stops and there is silence again. ]

D. WHITE ALBUM (JION)
warnings for: yaoi

[ "ow, fuck, that hurts! hey, be more gentle! not so rough, please, ow!"

"i told you, that isn't possible. you're part of the mob, aren't you? please don't make a scene .... i'll need to remove your clothes so i can tend to your injuries properly."

two other memories with this boy:

holding him close as he fires a gun, and one that is from an earlier time, where he's cutting bits of salami on a rock to feed some gremlins while giorno patiently waits for him to finish with an exasperated face, while he goes, "listen, if i don't feed them, they're going to start complaining."

it's a warm and pleasant feeling. amidst all of his other memories the kind with friends is few and far between and this one, upon being revealed, will confuse giorno in having shared it in the first place, stopping on his tracks as he realizes what had happened and falling silent as he remembers.

where there is physical contact it is brief but firm, and warm. ]

E. SLEEPING SLAVES (JOTARO)
warnings for: a bad boy

[ the memory is brief. it is giorno with his hair slightly dishevelled from a fight as he picks up a rather familiar item: an arrowhead with a beetle over the front. giorno, with conviction, says, "that which we have inherited from the departed must be taken onwards! i will not destroy this arrow."

a man that is familiar to him is there: jean-pierre polnareff watches him and it's hard to determine the look on his face with giorno's words, but he doesn't look like he disagrees with him; more like he understands. he looks like he's been through a lot, despite that cool mask. the latter half of his body seems to be in a turtle; what's up with that?

"put the arrow in the turtle," polnareff murmurs. "and that will do, giorno. that is the duty of the survivors."

there's not much to feel here physically unlike in other memories, save for the certainty in that the arrow that giorno is holding is real and not a replica. it feels old and heavy in giorno's hands. ]

Comments

[fivefingerdeathpunch]

[The memory Giorno sees isn't much longer. Jotaro is laid out on the street of a city after dark, upper body riddled with knives only partially blocked by all the magazines and comics stuffed under his clothes. Instead of pain, though, there's an unpleasant combination of fury and dread: Dio is leaping towards him, swinging a street sign like an executioner's axe at Jotaro's neck. The dread is already weakening, however, notes of hope and relief and no small amount of disbelief flooding in as Polnareff drops out of the fucking sky to stab Dio in the head with Silver Chariot's rapier.

Polnareff is years younger than in Giorno's memory, still in possession of both his eyes, both his legs, and all the confidence needed to command something as powerful as Dio to die. It's not enough, though, and the dread surges back as time grinds to a halt.

When the memory ends, Jotaro is looking at his empty hand.]

[tropism]

[ well, that makes the two of them trying to come to terms with something they probably shouldn't have seen.

in all likelihood he had asked to meet jotaro because he wanted to learn about his father, he wanted to understand what jotaro meant by family. they can't just ignore each other in this town; their connection to each other meant that at any given point in time giorno knew where jotaro was, and whether he was near or far away from him. it's a persistent, nagging thought that made it difficult for him to be as calm about the situation as he'd liked.

here, the slightest brush of his arm to jotaro as they decided to walk towards another place to talk in private made them exchange something worse, and giorno has to steady himself on the side as he is flooded with emotions. polnareff - so much younger than he remembers. and his father - that has to be him, with the golden hair, those knives, a hand swinging the street sign like an axe, polnareff stabbing him -

- it's too much. giorno feels he's going to be sick. cold sweat covers his skin, feeling goosebumps as he recalls his father's face, and he clenches his fist. ]

I - I don't understand, [ he says faintly. ] Why would he - ?

[fivefingerdeathpunch]

[Jotaro feels unbalanced, trying to wrap his head around what he just saw and what he remembered in turn. The arrow reminds him of... something, he isn't quite sure what yet, and he can't focus on that to make the connection. Polnareff had looked tired, more than anything, and so much older than he was when Jotaro last saw him maybe a month ago. Why was he in a--

Giorno is talking, though, and it can't be that he doesn't understand what Jotaro just saw, since he's the one who lived it. He looks over, sees Giorno sweating out of nowhere, and thinks I can't influence the witness's statement.]

What did you see?

[His jaw is clenched, his face otherwise deliberately blank.]

[tropism]

I-I saw ...

[ he falls quiet as he thinks about what he remembers of that memory. it feels like being haunted by a ghost, the memory of a memory that sutures itself into the edges of his shadow and onto flesh and bone. he's not sure what he saw; more than that, 'what did you see?' doesn't imply any confirmation. it's just a question, plain and simple. yet it carries so much weight in it. what did he see? and polnareff, so much younger than he used to be, than what he's used to seeing, stabbing his father in the head. did the two of them kill him?

.... but there's notes of pride here and there. it took more than just jotaro and polnareff to finish off his father, based on what he just saw. his father was powerful. immense even in his terrifying power. even jotaro, for a moment, had to be laid low.

giorno inhales sharply. ]

I saw you - did you die? Were you brought back to life? [ he doesn't ask this with a trace of doubt in his voice, because it happened to him. it could. and if jotaro says he's family then maybe he can do it too. ] And .... Polnareff.

That golden-haired man .... that was my father, wasn't it. [ and now his voice is quiet, uncertain. ]

a

[oomfies]

[ Lottie has had plenty of weird, surreal nightmares. Most of them involve her crush, and the other's are just because her subconscious is weird probably. While this feels like a nightmare, she knows for a fact she's awake. Living in the same area, it isn't odd to run into someone she (kinda) knows - this case, it's Giorno. It's a wave and awkward, but not reluctant, eye contact that gets this ball rolling.

The way her throat constricts when she's scared of rejection is nothing compared to the way it feels right now, experiencing this memory - she does struggle, just the same as he does, as air brushes against increasingly exposed skin. It stings, then it burns, and then it feels agonizing. ]

What the fuck was that?

[ It takes Lottie approximately 30 seconds after experiencing the onslaught of molding and piecing together a body that isn't hers (but is?!) like a puzzle, a foot literally reconstructing itself, to really make sure that that the eye in her socket is real, does she yell in Giorno's direction.

Existential crisis ahoy!!!!! This is not how she wanted to start her day at all! First, she lives with sentient alien ROCKS and now... What was that?? How can she even describe it?? The more she thinks about it, the more her eye socket aches, phantom pains spread through the repaired parts of her (HIS???) body. ]

Oh my god, Giorno, what the fuck was that?? Was that you?!

[tropism]

[ it's been ages, giorno thinks, since that time in rome. and seeing lottie's panicked and disgusted face brings back the idea to him that he shouldn't be out. his memories aren't what most kids his age are supposed to have. and lottie didn't even know what magic was when she first arrived; their experiences were vastly different.

giorno is apologetic as he says, ] That's - me, yes. My memory of a fight. [ a pause. ] I'm not really sure what's going on, but ... are you alright? You're not hurt?

[ because that was an intense battle and he'd hate for lottie to have the same injuries as he did. ]

[oomfies]

[ A fight?? That was a fight???? What???? ]

What, dude, you actually went through that? [ You actually got slaughtered by a weird little gremlin?! And then magically fixed yourself?!! This is definitely out of Lottie's realm, so much that she really can't even grasp everything about what just happened. Part of her brain is actively fighting against Lottie so that she doesn't grasp what just happened. ]

Yeah, I'm not physically hurt, but my body aches all over. [ Does that make sense? Not at all. ] ..I don't know, I can't tell!! I'm kind of freaking out right now!

[tropism]

Well, things worked out in the end. [ he killed them both, the gremlin and the gremlin's master. ]

I'm sorry. It should fade away after a while. [ at least, he hopes it will. giorno winces as lottie tells him she's freaking out. ] Do you want to sit down? [ or hole up somewhere. ]

a!

[unghost]

[ A brief moment of eye-contact in passing is all it takes to trigger this memory, and boy, is it completely out of their comfort zone.

Cairngorm is no stranger to being dismembered, to being broken down into something that is less than whole. At first, the feeling of being shot with something and breaking is something all too familiar, but— what they are a stranger to? This horrific feeling that comes with it in this memory. They don't know what to call it, not at first, having never experienced a feeling so physically awful. It's wholly, absolutely overwhelming to a being that's never even felt something as slight as a change in temperature, so suffice to say, they're completely freaking out as their eye gets removed, mouth agape with a strained, confused wail.

It's only when the body starts to reconstruct that they register that this is pain, this is what humans feel whenever they get hurt. What a horrible, pitiful way to live. As soon as their body reconstructs and the memory ends, their knees give out from wherever they were standing, landing on the ground with a heavy (crystalline, inhuman) thud, gloved hands immediately feeling at their throat and eye for missing pieces. ]

What... what was...

[ They can't seem to finish anything they want to say, still trembling. In fact, they're so deep in reeling that they forget that they'd even been looking at Giorno, too busy turning their hands over and checking themself for breaks. ]

[tropism]

Cairngorm -

[ he's about to comfort them when giorno stops short of touching them, realizing that he doesn't quite know how to comfort them either since he doesn't know what triggered it and doesn't quite know how they would be affected by his memories. cairn wasn't human to begin with; this must be horrifying to them. ]

- you're alright. It's just - it's not real. [ his words stumble in his mouth, feels like stones in his tongue. not his usual smooth way of talking. he doesn't quite know what to say to comfort them. ]

[unghost]

[ His voice gets them to look up, just because— oh yeah, this was Giorno's memory. Which doesn't make them feel any better about it, because isn't he just over a decade old? Why was he experiencing things like this at such a young age? They thought his powers had to do with creating cute and soft animals, and were good for carrying heavy stuff. This is not the sort of thing they expected from him in the least, and it's maybe worse than anything they'd expected any humans to be going through, with their fragile bodies... ]

I— I know that. [ Their voice is shaky, but they're at least getting a grip on their body trembling. Never in their life have they felt so grateful to be a crystal, to feel next to nothing. If this is what humans have to feel all the time, then gems were absolutely right to say they'd evolved past any other living thing. ] I'm fine.

[ The way that say it makes it seem that they are trying to convince themself of that, too. ]

You survived that? Or...

[tropism]

... Good. [ giorno lets out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, waiting on cairngorm to let him know that yes, they're fine. the memories are brief and the physical experience temporary. at the end of the day they will probably forget that they'd seen something absolutely crazy at the recognition of a face they knew in town.

giorno purses his lips at the question, and then says, ] I did survive. And I was stronger for it.

[ a slight tilt of the head. ] I'm actually proud of the memory. But ... I wasn't expecting for people to just stumble into it, and without understanding the rest .... it's otherwise horrifying, and I'm sorry for that.

Today's just not a good day for anyone.

me (1/2)

[withwisdom]

[ by now zelda already knows what's going on in town, but has resolved to not let it stop her from living her life. she can't just avoid people or stop her routines because the realm has deigned to cast one of their bothersome spells. during her routine she crosses paths with giorno and she even keeps her gaze locked down on the ground to avoid the contact.

however she accidentally takes a wrong step and accidentally knocks herself into his side as they pass ways. the trigger is instant and a memory plays: ]

...

[ today is her seventeenth birthday. however there are no celebrations, no plans made, for the kingdom is in a deep depression. no one wants to say it, not to her face anyway, but prophecies of dread are whispered between the high court and lower court alike. calamity ganon nears, some have begun deserting the kingdom in fear, and her mood reflects the empty corridors of a once lively castle.

in the next few minutes she will depart for mount lanayru with link for the day. spiritual code states no one can pray at the spring of wisdom until seventeen, and of course they must follow the codes that do nothing for them. in the dawn of the early morning she approaches her father's quarters. he is surely awake by now.

"Father" she says as she knocks on his door. she waits a few moments before knocking again, then repeat, then repeat again, until she gives up. he's not coming to the door. they've been having frequent arguments and fights in the last several days and now it has come to this. her seventeenth birthday and her only parent won't come to see her.

"I am going to Mount Lanayru today. Link will escort me up the mountain, and I will spend my time in prayer..." she stops and sighs, tense and frustrated. "I will awaken my power there. So please, wait for me before you retire for the night."

No response still. The Gods do not talk to her, Link barely ever says a word, and now her own father has turned cold. She may as well talk to a mirror when her voice is the only thing she hears.

"Good bye."

And with that she turns away from the door, only giving a passing glance behind her shoulder in the hopes that he opened up after she was gone. Why does she ever bother to hope for anything so nice though? ]

[withwisdom]

[ and then it's over, reality returns, but pain shoots through her. like an intense bruise had been welted onto her skin, even when there are no such traces on her skin. she gasps and falls to her knees, only stopping the rest of herself from plummeting by quickly slamming her hands at the ground as anchor. ]

Ngh, damn!

[ she gasps and clutches her cheek, as though struck, yet feels nothing but the pain. ]

[tropism]

[ living in the town is a pain, in times like these. he had come to the church a few days after because he wanted to talk to her about something. more than that - he's feeling the need to be with people and this is nothing new, not really, because giorno never functions by himself most days, but he is feeling it a lot more intensely right now and it's not normal. it's not fair. everything is intrusive and as much as giorno wants to do damage control ... he can't. things were slipping out of his touch, memories infringing on people he knows unwillingly.

and there were these things, where he finds out things about his friends that they barely talk about, for one reason or another. things that make it difficult for them to acknowledge parts of their lives to each other because the decision to reveal it had been taken out of their hands. so as much as giorno was trying to avoid contact, when zelda keels over she gets gold experience to sit her down.

the effects of their memories makes him falter on the floor before he moves again, and giorno looks at her. for the longest time he's trying to understand why is it that she was the one who got that memory. he felt .... not very good. he hadn't thought of himself as haruno for ages. ]

It .... it'll pass after a few minutes, [ he says quietly. rather dryly; ] It always does.

[withwisdom]

Mhm.

[ she wishes she could get ice on this, but there's no way. but also she knows there's no real mark there - it's just the sting of the memory. what a nuisance. she saw something she doesn't think he would want her to. she sniffs and rubs her forehead, the ghostly wound still there too, but doesn't look to him just in case another memory is exchanged. ]

Don't worry, I'll be fine. [ a sigh. ] This spell is doing such awful things. I'm sorry.

d

[organfarm]

[ Giorno isn't the best roommate in the world, but he's not the worst either. It's fine. Jion's starting to get used to it. So he wakes up early as he always does (out of habit, pretty much) and gets dressed, expecting another day of nothing-too-special. Still trying to tame his hair, he thoughtlessly wanders through their shared space, giving Giorno a sleepy nod in a good-morning greeting and --

-- ... oh.

that sure was giorno stripping his friend (?) that he just saw. and said friend feeding some ugly little trolls (???) salami. yup.

that wasn't just something his mind just made up in some sort of waking dream, was it? jion's been frozen in mid-step, and he gingerly rubs a hand between his brows before trying to see if giorno had anything to do with it.

after all, dude can turns objects into internal organs. maybe he can make people think weird things. ]

[tropism]

[ he was mid-yawn when he realizes what's happening, and thankfully it's -

- mista. of all people. (thankfully, it's not buccelatti, or else he'll have more explaining to do.) but his memories of mista are quite harmless, really, except for that one time he was healing him on a park bench which, now that he's looking at it the other side, he can see how someone else might view it as something else entirely.

giorno just sighs. ]

His name is Guido Mista and he has a habit of getting into trouble all the time.

[ he heads off to the kitchen and he's going to make breakfast. at least this time he's a lot better dressed than the first time he met jion, even if his hair is still a delicate mess over his head. ]

[organfarm]

[ Giorno looks totally fine with this. Of course he does. This guy's unflappability is still really weird, and Jion doesn't exactly like feeling like an idiot in comparison. But fine. It's fine, he can deal with it. He's just going to assume that yes, maybe Giorno just weirdly broadcasts his own memories ... or. Something.

So he decides to pick up on the most important bit of that memory: ]

His name is Guido Mista? Is that some sort of nickname or --

[ Too bad his own condition for memory transfer is saying anything to someone. So, whoops, there it goes.



Luckily, Jion's memory seems to be largely innocuous. Jion looks to be in his early teens, much shorter and skinnier but already sporting that huge scar across his face. He's seated in what looks to be a classroom with about thirty other kids, similarly aged. The room is sterile and clean. The children murmur amongst themselves, wondering out loud what's going on.

The door's flung open without any warning, and a woman in military uniform strides in. Without so much as looking at the children, she walks over to the whiteboard in front and writes on it -- PLANARIA DIVISION 1 - MEDIC STUDIES.

She puts the marker down on its little shelf with a sharp rattle and turns sharply to the kids, scrutinizing them closely. Jion looks at her, squirming nervously in his seat. His palms feel kind of sweaty, and his pulse feels fast. ]

b

[retrobeats]

[ so, some 24 hours in, Michael has some idea of what's happening and how it's being set off. which is why he's heading into Flavo this morning. it's got the least number of houses, which means less people, which means less chance of literally bumping into people and swapping memories, right? foolproof.

or y'know, not, 'cause he hasn't factored in things like eye contact or y'know, just greeting people from what should be a safe distance.

the memories he's been hit with so far have mostly just come with a large helping of other people's thoughts, echoing loudly in his head like he was the one thinking them. that's disconcerting enough, but this is on a whole other level, and it catches him like a freight train.

it's like nothing he's ever felt, nothing anyone ever should feel, and it hurts, it hurts, he can taste blood and he's going to throw up and it can't be real

when the memory lets him go, he's on his knees, gasping down huge gulps of air that still feel like they're not getting to where they need to be. his hands go straight to his neck to check that it's still there and whole, and that a fucking sadist hasn't actually magically unzipped his fucking head like something from Saw. ]

What-- the fuck, what the fuck--!

[ the words come out more breath than voice, and Michael stares at Giorno in complete and utter horror. ]

[tropism]

[ sometimes people stumble upon parts of him that he can't really explain, and giorno is so used to them shrugging it off that having someone panic kind of makes him feel awkward. ]

Hey - oh -

[ a pause. a quick glance to him tells giorno he's alright, he's just suffering from the after-effects of the memory, and his breathing eases a bit. ] - you'll be alright, Michael, don't worry.

[retrobeats]

[ the physical sensations left by the memory are almost completely faded now, and as they go, Michael's breathing starts to even out with it. still totally not normal, and his skin feels like it's crawling with all that residual horror at what he just experienced, but the solid ground is helping. ]

Aw yeah, why would I worry?! I only just felt you getting tortured!

[ and maybe that was uncalled for, and maybe it came out sharp and ugly, but as he comes more and more back to himself, his priorities are also shifting. now, Michael can be fairly good at brushing stuff off. almost too good at it sometimes. but this - this is absolutely not the sort of thing that can be brushed off. ]

Giorno-- [ and his voice at least sounds more like a voice now, if still a half-octave higher than normal. he rubs both hands up and then back down his face, dislodging his glasses slightly. ] That - that actually happened. That happened to you.

[ and even knowing that Giorno has magic powers and that a lot of people in town come from lives where danger isn't just a possibility but a constant reality, that's not okay. it could never be okay, and it's even less okay that the town just beamed the knowledge of it into his brain like that. ]

B!

[noholdsbard]

[ As with all things, it had started out innocuously enough. They’d run into each other across the districts, fell to talking. Giorno had stumbled and he’d reached out to catch him by the shoulder—

And the next thing Tristan knows, he’s reeling back from the shock of that sudden memory, and would have stumbled outright had he not braced himself against the nearest wall.

He might have left a parting gift in the meantime too, though he doesn’t realize it—that very distinct feeling of sorrow and regret as a poisoned lance is driven through his chest. ]

Forgive me, I… [ He reaches for his own throat, feeling for a hollowness that isn’t there. ] That is, are you all right?

[tropism]

... I'm fine.

[ this again. giorno keeps himself on steady footing despite the exchange. a poisoned lance through the chest, huh. that's new. giorno imagines that had he not been chosen by the arrow in the colosseum he'd be able to make a terrible joke to archer: you too? we've got more than one thing in common. ]

Sorry. Things have been rather confusing lately.

[ a tilt of the head. ] .... did that kill you? [ the spear, that is. ]

[noholdsbard]

[ That’s a pretty loaded question. As much as he’d like to pursue the implications of it, the way Giorno just casually brushes off his own memories aside is terribly concerning. Frowning, Tristan pulls his hand from his throat and resists the urge to place it over his chest, letting his arm hang loose at his side instead.

The scar on his breast throbs with the memory of that day. ]

No, alas—it did not. Now it seems we both have to live with the scars.