hugtopia_logs | it's been the ruin of many a poor boy [open.]

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it's been the ruin of many a poor boy [open.]

♥ Who: Clifford Norman, OTA!
♥ Where: wherever tbh...
♥ When: August 1 and general early August.
♥ What: Cliff arrives to do typical intro log stuff and be frustrated.
♥ Rating: uhh PG-13 for language? and probably underage smoking at some point.

[ a. the wrong world. ]

[He’d had the plan to move out solidly in mind until recently, but…somehow this wasn’t quite what he’d pictured. After being led to housing by the welcome wagon, Cliff had waited out the helpful robot before slinking away from the open street to somewhere he can quietly freak the fuck out in peace. Even in the alternate reality he suddenly had a second life’s worth of memories of, he’d only heard stories about some corrupted-but-harmless AI, nothing like a whole society….not that that’s his biggest issue right now. He doesn’t know nearly enough about science or magic to figure out why the hell he remembered two versions of his life or why he was a wolfboy from the middle of nowhere with shitty father figures in both of them. That just doesn’t seem fair?

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, shakes his head like it will disperse those thoughts, and sets off again. Maybe if he got the lay of the land, he'd have an easier time getting a handle on things. At least he can feel being an Animal Person, and know that if he wanted to right now, he could be a wolf before his next step hit, and that’s knowing more than nothing! Along that thought, he was wearing Oscar’s hoodie and he had that bag of gummies he'd just started. Undeniably real. But the hoodie had existed in that other world, too, even though he'd never gotten tangled with “just some guy” that was a magnet for trouble. And…]

Huh. Well, that was the most unbelievable part of all that.

[In his pocket, the push of his finger against a figurine’s ear assures him that it is also pretty damn real. Didn’t hate that, no matter how confusing it is. The circumstances surrounding this place and that other one, though...]

Christ. You save a guy’s life a couple times and they want to upgrade you to saving two worlds?

[Because he didn't have enough of a headache.]

[ b. the wrong foot. ]

[Contemplating his newly realized existential crisis, he doesn't have the mental fortitude to figure out who’s in charge and kick their ass. Instead, the redhead resigns himself to pretend-scrolling through his not-an-earth-phone while his eyes -- more animal than human, if someone were to inspect them -- and scowl do the job of telegraphing his mood for him even from where he's hiding under his hood.

It could be that simple, just his glare accidentally finding someone who didn't deserve it and a miscommunication running wild from there, or it could be that while he's pretending to be distracted by his phone, he's actually distracted with his thoughts enough that he comes too close to someone passing the other way and bumps into them. He jolts back with tight fists and an arm lifted like a shield between himself and the stranger. As ready to fight as he might seem and sound, it's possible to notice that he's on guard rather than being aggressive.]

Hey, watch it -- !

[ c. the wrong attitude. ]

This sucks.

[Cliff plops onto the bench with a truly impressive sigh. That feeling before he’d woken up… Even with as much as he loves his mom and brother, the fact that he still had to hold a part of himself back means that it had been so completely, overwhelmingly alien. Comforting and safe in the moment, but now?]

Fucking tired of people messing with my head…

[This really, really sucks.

Miserably, he notes that he should be rationing the few supplies that had come with him, but he deserves the sugar, dammit! Cliff drags the bag of gummi bears out and starts to eat them with the enthusiasm of a man on death row. He starts each one by biting its head off.]

[ d. the wrong...card?! ]

[idk man it’s the wildcard option, hit me up if you want to work something out!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Rude's his job. He can handle being rude, getting told he's rude, all of it. He's less prepared for what Héctor can dish out back, no matter how gentle the tone -- gentle in comparison to the words, anyway. He's sucking in smoke to exhale out dramatically one second, and choking on it the next. He brings his arm up to muffle himself in the sleeve until his lungs calm back down. Well...he probably deserves to be feeling that one for a while.]

I -- [hhhh] -- meant the arm archery. Fuck.

[It...doesn't make a lot of sense. Even with the pain he caused, he -- wait. Okay. Okay, breathe.]

You don't actually mean Hell Hell?

[He looks up, thoughtful. As if Cliff isn't choking on smoke. He probably could have timed that better. Oh well.]

I showed you the arm archery? Huh. That was one of my favorite tricks...

[He misses being a skeleton. That's not really the important thing though.]

I've met the devil. Talked face to face. I've felt the fires and I've done the tortures. I've been in and out and back to do it again. I have earned the wrath of our Heavenly Father in the basic sense and very much personally. [He'll look at Cliff for this.] Yes. I mean Hell.

[Truthfully, it's Cliff's fault for wanting to sass him. Let him choke.]

What the fuck. [Bad? Wrong, bad? He doesn't even know what to say to that, so he says the first thing that comes to mind as he looks to meet Héctor's gaze with the look of a kicked puppy. Haha.] Why?

[Why? He stopped asking but, under it all, it still gets to him. It takes him back to that time, to when Lucifer told them all how to reach God, if they wanted, but they'd be wasting their time. He went on his knees and he begged.

Why? He can't meet the kid's eyes when he's looking like that.]

Because I'm a sinner. Because I had a list. Because I deserved it. Because I had bad luck alongside a bunch of other sinners. Because that God was a bastard. [His mouth twists, with misery and fury both. His breath shudders.] A being who liked to kick those who were already down... a lot of those people didn't even deserve it.

[He shakes his head.]

It doesn't matter why. It happened. All things considered, I and the sinners I was with got the better end of the deal. We had the opportunity to leave if we worked for it and we had the ability to exist outside of fire and pain.

[He raises his cigarette to his lips again but his hand shakes. Dammit. He did not get this worked up while he was still in Hell.]

It's done. I'm out. There's nothing to worry about.

[It sounds wrong until it registers that some of it sounds familiar. He keeps studying the man after he looks away, but when he tries to brush it aside, he has to look away. That's familiar, too. He was just used to being on the other side of it.

Don't worry about it. How many times had he said it in the past year alone? ...What would things be like if people had actually listened to him. He knows the answer: more of the same. The same fucking sucked.]

Sorry. You probably feel like shit, [Even though things are better. Even though he's free and can learn how to breathe again. He'd certainly felt like shit, and he had the comfort of getting to go home at the end of the day.] and there I went saying stuff without thinking when I knew it was worse for you.

[Just gone get reading to shut himself up. Boy, if they'd thought they needed the cigarettes before, huh? God, he's screwing this up so bad.]

You don't need me to, like, say it, but you don't have to talk about it.

[He takes a long moment, steadying himself, trying to breathe. He listens to Cliff's apologies and assurances. He shakes his head yet again and sighs.]

No. It's fine. All that you said was that I was less pleasant than the guy you knew and I'm fairly sure it's true.

[He's definitely a worse person than he was, which is saying something.]

...I miss my daughter. It hurts like nothing else. But I've been missing her for longer than I was alive. I lost my last chance but I always kind of knew it was a long shot and, since I wound up back in Hell, I've had time to... sit with it. To really turn it over in my head in all those months. The tortures are nothing to me, after the first time I was there. The things I've done, I'm going to live with. I have one person left from Hell here with me, so I'm not alone. I've had... I've had good days. Even in Hell.

I'm not... okay... But I'm okay. If that makes any sense.

You don't owe me an apology. I should be thanking you.

[The lingering taste of smoke feels sour in his mouth, like maybe that little slip-up had made his lungs go bad in an instant. With another, weaker cough to try clearing that out, he taps his cigarette off to the side and looks where the ash falls. He wonders if one of the positives of smoking in Hell was that it was all fire and ash anyway, and there were worse things that could be done to your lungs. He decides not to ask. He’d like to keep liking smoking, even if it's bad.]

There's this guy, Oscar… He can be a pain in the ass, he always has to get involved when it isn't his business. Normally I wouldn't share his lame advice or whatever, but -- [Anyway. Getting all flustered about it would only make it into a bigger deal.] One time he said “Being strong enough to take the hit doesn't make it your responsibility”.

[Maybe it wasn't a literal hit in this case, and maybe Cliff was still having some trouble internalizing that idea himself, but it seems fair to give Héctor’s feelings that...way out, maybe. He was all about looking for a way out? A way back.]

I guess what I'm trying to say is...it's good you're not dealing with it alone? And you can stop, sometimes. Dealing with it. Maybe that's annoying, coming from a kid you literally just met.

[Heck, it’d been annoying enough from the only guy he could be himself around without feeling wrong.]

[Definitely a whole lot of ash in Hell. Definitely worse things that could happen, but that was always true.

He notes the name. Cliff had mentioned it before. He notes the way Cliff talks of him, exasperation covering up fondness. And he notes most of all that this is advice that Cliff himself had been given first.]

... Your friend's a smart one. [It's good advice. He wonders what he would have done with it before. He wonders how he might have given it or held it to himself.]

I wasn't. At first. I wasn't strong enough. I woke up there and I'd never been so terrified. I did anything I could to make it hurt less, even if it made things difficult for someone else.

[He remembers Nekane, reluctant at first, but giving in for him. He remembers the impatience of other sinners. He remembers Squalo taking up his deal, him offering tea to try and soothe things when it was over. He remembers bowing his head and apologizing for the angry red brand burned into Nekane's skin, something he hadn't even saw coming.]

I started taking the hits when... when I realized I couldn't stand to see people taking the hits for me. I probably took more than I needed to after that. Sought it out. Didn't even help so much as postpone. And then I was just... used to it. And I used that.

[He nods to himself, not quite seeing the world before him.]

I don't want to have a breakdown everywhere I go. I've already got so many stupid hang-ups I can't hide and-- you aside since it was obvious something was different-- I don't want a whole bunch of people knowing I'm a literal damned sinner. I don't know how to take sympathy for what's just a part of me I've accepted and I don't know how to deny the worst assumptions when they might still be true.

But your friend's right. It doesn't do good to take on more pain just because. It just screws you up in the end. I'm still working on that.

[It's with a grimace that he listens, free hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as some means of comfort. It's hard to deal with shit when you don't want to deal with it yourself, so mostly he just nods at a few points --

I wasn't. At first. I wasn't strong enough.
He remembers being so small, confused, and terrified.

I couldn't stand to see people taking the hits for me.
Not wanting to ruin his family, when they could be happy at the cost of what could feel like so little. He'd already screwed things up before.

I don't want a whole bunch of people knowing I'm a literal damned sinner.
There were so many things that could make him stand out, he wants to scream. He wants to run as fast as he can and keep running. That'd make him stand out, too. He doesn't want any of them to look at him differently when he already felt just how different he was like a bug under his skin.

None of it's a perfect parallel, but he gets it. Enough, anyway.]

I'm not gonna tell him you said that. He doesn't need the encouragement.

[He feels himself smile. He hears himself laugh. No doubt about it now.]

You sound like good friends. You and this Oscar. Can't shake him off but don't really want to either.

[He was probably the one people tried to shake off in most cases.]

Does my girl know him too?

[He huffs out his own brief laugh, knowing there's no point in denying or confirming anything. He doesn't have to, so he won't. Turns out to be a good decision, because it saved his effort for the other question that...needs it.]

Nah. Pretty much impossible. It's too bad, I think she'd like his house. It's haunted.

[...Maybe most of his effort went into getting back his blasé tone.]

[He lifts a brow.]

She'd like his house because it's haunted? Now that I wasn't expecting.

[She was a bold girl but he'd never considered an interest in horror stories.]

So... Oscar's from one world and Coco's in the other. [He draws a breath and lets it out.] That's tough.

Oh, right. Guess where you're from, Riveras aren't necromancers. They do spirit guiding stuff, and Sylvia's pretty great -- she's the ghost? Taught me gin rummy.

[Plus, her dad was a zombie, her boyfriend was a werewolf... Her life might not be considered a horror story (not anymore, anyway) but it's definitely weird and spooky-flavored.]

Nothing to do about it, so whatever. One's just as real as the other, it sucks either way.

Necromancers? [Sorry for the echo there Cliff. Give him a minute to process that.]

No, definitely not necromancers. Shoemakers, I think. Imelda started the business after I died. Had the date printed outside the family shop in the land of the dead. Passed it by a few times until Pepita caught me...

[He frowns, then shakes the memory off.]

You go where you go and if you have a choice at all, you go with what you can live with. I know how it goes. I left everyone behind the first time I left Hell.

[He pulls his smile back.] What I can say you should do is play gin rummy with me sometime. As soon as I find another pack of cards. You can make that two ghosts you've played cards with. Well, I guess I'm not one now, but still.

Shoemakers? [Have your own echo, Héctor, just as incredulous. Cliff can't help breaking into a laugh.] Yeah, right. Coco making shoes she can't dance in?

[He knows she would do it. He knows she would do anything for her mom except one -- give up on loving her dad. Still, what a wasted life for her.]

Good to hear Pepita's on the prowl. She lets me off the hook when she sees me sneaking around.

[It's better to stick to topics like these. Make it start to feel at least a little bit like how it used to, and then maybe stuff will be okay.]

Deal. Hit me up if you if you find just 'gin', too. Hey -- you said you had a phone with pictures before. You figure out how to use thing?

[He takes out the little tablet, waggling it for show. How impressed does he get to be, Mr. Rivera?]

I'm telling you! Rivera Family of Shoemakers, since nineteen twenty-one! Miguel even had shoe polish in his pocket!

[...That really should have been a hint, now that he thinks about it. He waves a hand.]

But, yes, well, apparently the big jaguar likes you.

[He reaches into his torn-up jacket, fishing the phone out of the inner pocket there. He shows off his own, grins, and tucks it away.]

The first thing that happened in Hell! Well, actually... the fire was first... then the torture... two more... the nerve damage, the creepy announcement... but the seventh thing that happened in Hell! The people there showed me how to use it, take pictures- you can even film! In full color! And you can talk to people whenever you like. And you don't even have to say stop or anything! Instantly sends! It was amazing! And these ones, they look even more fancy! Though... the buttons... I wish buttons stuck out like the ones in Hell...

[why did the kid carry around shoe polish… can you do pranks with shoe polish? that might make sense.]

Sure. I'm awesome. I give good chin scritches and play with her.

[As a wolf, he was actually a pretty good match for tag and light wrestling. She was bigger, for sure, but he was more nimble. The naps in the sun didn't hurt, either.

Oh, very impressed! And trying to not be sick or worry too much, so that's the feeling he's going to chase!! Not the thought that seventh was pretty far down the line of things to happen, dude?]

Yeah, dude. You got a better handle on it than the guy in my time. The thing I don't like about it is that it's seethrough, that's pretty weird. And I guess it's supposed to be a house key?

[Better than no key at all, but weird all the same.]

[Some people busk for money, some people polish shoes.

He huffs and shakes his head. He'd point out that the real difference was probably that Imelda liked Cliff. But, he doesn't want to ruin the mood of things.]

I did have a lot of good teachers. [But hey! Cool! Something he's better at than this alternate future version of himself!]

Have you found a house yet? The key thing isn't too complicated. And once it's done, the place is yours. A little barren inside, but that just means less work taking things out you don't like. And it's got all the modern fancy stuff like washing machines.

[but like...shoe polish pranks. and he can be both pepita's friend and approved of by imelda!!! let him have big kitty friend...]

Oh...no. Didn't get around to it. [Which is a little more awkward... Right, he'd been looking around to get a feel for the place, figure out what would be the most comfortable for him safety-wise. The realization has his smile falling a little, but nothing too dire. Just thoughtful.] Washing machine's are definitely a win.

[God. He's got to do his own laundry, make his own meals, do all the clean-up... Nothing he wasn't capable of, but it hits him how much they'd all pitched in back home. And like Héctor said: it was barren. He doesn't think he'll be lucky enough to have a friendly ghost to hang out with when it gets too quiet at night, and there's no smokes to idle the time away with.]

I know the housing's free -- is it bad, or something?

Oh! No, no!

[He says it quick, waving his hands and nearly putting out his cigarette that way. He pulls a breath from it quick.]

No, sorry, I didn't mean to downsell it. They really are nice places. Way fancier than I've ever lived in. I guess I just miss my old place, in Hell. Heck, I even miss shantytown. But here's really not bad.

[His mouth presses a moment, weighing the decision before he makes it. It's risky, but, Cliff is just a kid. And more importantly, he knew Coco. If they were friends, then surely there's nothing wrong with him.]

I could show you my place, if you want. You could see what they're like before you make any decisions.

[Shantytown... Maybe he'll ask what's up with that later, but for the moment he holds the butt of his cigarette between his lips as he sighs around it and folds his arms behind his head. There are his own reservations about going with Héctor, no matter how he tries to fit the man into the image he already has in mind. The differences in places don't exactly help ease the anxiety of being in a new, mysterious place.]

I don't know. I mean... You're probably sharing it with your Hell friend, right? Neither of you know me. [And he doesn't know them...]

I'd let them know I was bringing someone along before I just dropped in. Neither of us likes surprises and we don't take well to home invasion. We wouldn't do that to each other.

[But, Cliff does make a very good point. He looks skyward.]

I probably wouldn't have offered if you hadn't said you were Coco's friend. I have to believe that you're not dangerous to us, or else you'd be dangerous to her.

[And he can't have that. He shakes his head and draws his smile back, before drawing in and letting out a puff of smoke. His cigarette is nearly dwindled to nothing.]

It's no problem. Just a silly idea. This place looks so quiet, you could probably sleep outside without a problem if you really wanted to.

[Right... That makes sense. He could see the other Héctor or Teto doing something like that on a whim, swept up in the moment, but it's a relief to hear that, even though it's more evidence of what he's been through, the man wasn't going to spring that on someone. He makes a mental note to not climb in through their windows until he knew them much, much better so that he doesn't get shot or something. If something like that was even possible.]

Believe me, I thought about it. If there were a woods or field, maybe.

[He doesn't feel like being some dirty dog in the alley that someone would try to take home and clean up. Cliff closes his eyes before exhaling a frustrated grumble.]

Yeah, I mean. I'd trust you before someone else. It's fine if it's cool by you, but it's not a big deal. You don't have to worry about it.

[Smart kid. He's slept with knives on him because of certain people and demons trying to pop on by.]

I think there's a garden. Not the same but maybe close. [He probably shouldn't encourage it but it's not like he hasn't slept outside himself. Often.

He looks Cliff over, considers that whole not worrying about it thing, then bobs his head.]

Come on. It's not too far from here.

[He finishes the last bit of cigarette and then quickly pinches the end of it between his fingers before dropping it. A stupid move to some but he'd prefer a burn on his hands than his bare feet. Without missing a beat, he pulls the phone back up and quickly messages Nekane that he's bringing someone by, a kid (and ergo, not a threat).]

Nekane's probably not home but don't freak out if you do see them. They won't care but I still won't like it.

Not many places to stay out of sight in a garden. Someone watching me while I sleep isn't something I'm into.

[Not unless he trusted them, and even then it was uncomfortable, obviously. Crashing on Oscar's couch had probably meant Sylvia was floating above him at some point. With her having flipped out on him for a second... No. It had been shitty when Oscar didn't feel comfortable with him after he'd saved his life, and he'd already felt like a monster. Sylvia had just been trying to protect Oscar. From him.

I don't know what you'll do. There is something wrong with you.

Man. Fuck that.

He notes the name while trying to get as much as he can out of his dwindling cigarette before giving up and tossing it down to crush under his shoe. It might be a little more forceful that a burned down stick warrants, but when he looks back up and over, he's curious and focused on the current conversation again.]

What do you mean?

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