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verbumincarcerem · 5 years

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A Head Full of Spiders

well here it is the HxH self-insert fic with the trash clown that no one asked for

Heaven’s Arena, Melody decided, was an excellent place to both kill time and get rich quick.

At first, she’d disdained her mark for the decision. Thick with crowds, bloodlust, and gambling, the Heaven’s Arena tower, which stretched over half a mile into the sky, wasn’t the most ideal place to weed out a Nen user undetected. Melody had assumed she’d be bored out of her mind, waiting endlessly for an opportunity to present itself.

She was still waiting to locate her mark, but at least she was having an uproariously good time about it.

“Begin!” the referee called, flinging his right arm up into a sharp arc. The screams of the crowd rose into a crescendo as all eyes fell on the arena floor and the two fighters staged upon it, the floor referee all but invisible now.

Melody was one of those fighters, her brown hair pulled up into a rare, messy bun, her blue eyes trained on the man in front of her. The keenness of her gaze was the only thing that implied she was taking any of this even halfway seriously, because her appearance certainly didn’t. Black leggings, lavender tunic, her hands shoved into the front pockets of a gray hoodie—none of these things would immediately be considered battle appropriate. Save for the black, flat-heeled boots that came up to her knees, she looked like she was on the way to a gym workout instead.

Nothing sharp and nasty was waiting to be drawn from her pockets, either. She was weaponless, as the rules dictated for the first 199 floors. At first, she’d fretted over the loss of her short swords. By the 70th floor, she’d stopped noticing their absence, and now that she was here, on floor 199, she knew she had no need for them.

While spirited, her opponents so far hadn’t warranted any cause, and the reason was obvious. Very few, if any, of them knew about or had been initiated to use Nen. That included the man in front of her, with his shaved head, thick black beard, and the body that corded deliberately with muscle as he dropped into a fighting stance. Reshi, the self-purported master and creator of his own Black Bear martial arts style.

Yeah, right. He was an impatient boar who thought he had a lot of power to throw behind his fists. Against normal humans, he’d be a formidable contender, but she was not, strictly speaking, normal.

As predicted, Reshi roared at her and charged, his hands extended in front of him as if he intended to grapple with her and throw her down.

Melody stayed where she was, hands still comfortably housed inside her hoodie. She focused a small amount of Nen in her left foot, barely detectable to other Nen users and completely invisible to Reshi. When Reshi was within a foot of her, she acted.

She was certain, when he woke up later, he would need someone to tell him what had happened. Faster than his or the audience’s eyes could see, Melody crouched then executed a high kick with her left foot, striking Reshi perfectly in the chin. She heard his teeth clatter together—maybe some of them had shattered—and saw his eyes roll back into his head for the briefest of moments. The Nen behind her attack sent him flying in a perfect arc until he crashed onto the arena floor, bouncing then finally rolling to a stop on his back, unconscious.

“That’s a clean hit—no, that’s a win by knockout!” the referee called belatedly as he edged near Reshi and determined he was out of the fight. The fight’s announcer declared the victory hers, her name over the loud speakers nearly drowned out by the riotous crowd.

Slowly, Melody lowered her leg and, with her hands still pocketed, nodded acknowledgement to the referee, and turned to exit the arena. Once she cleared the sight of the audience, re-entering the tower’s interior, she allowed herself a little smile.

This was, by far, the easiest money she had ever made.

After her match, Melody was expected to report to the front desk, not to collect her winnings, which would automatically be deposited into her account, but to make the transition from the first, common 199 floors to the more prestigious 200th—a prestige that would only rise the higher one climbed.

Instead, she stepped into one of Heaven’s Arena’s many bars, ordered a Vodka Cranberry, and made a phone call.

“Well, look who finally decided to report in,” a wily voice answered. Melody found herself smiling despite herself. She could imagine the old man on the other end of the line, stroking his long, white beard as he prepared to put her to task. Minus any real venom, though. Chairman Isaac Netero was rarely serious unless no other option remained. “Did you find our friend yet?”

“Nope,” she reported back cheerfully. “Not a hint of him, so he must already be on one of the higher floors. Just made it onto the two-hundredth myself, by the way.”

“Congratulations,” Netero dryly quipped. “You’ve only been gone six weeks.”

“You said to stay incognito as much as possible, so don’t criticize. Besides, you know how this place works,” Melody combatted before taking a grateful swallow of her drink. “I doubt he’s much higher than me. All I need to do is find his floor and room, then this can be over.”

“Don’t be overconfident,” Netero said, as much warning as there was amusement in his tone. “Mr. Ilmyr was once one of us, before he went rogue. He knows how to hunt and when he’s being hunted in turn. He won’t be an easy opponent to defeat, let alone take down.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said, dragging a finger along the rim of her drink. “The fights have been rewarding, but I was started to get bored by the repetition of it all.”

“You young people today,” Netero sighed. “Nothing satisfies you anymore.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” she replied before hanging up the call. Downing the rest of her drink, Melody paid her tab using but a trifle of her new earnings, then made her way to the registration desk.

Eventually. After stopping in a few clothing stores and sweet shops first.

“Melody… Okay, yes, there you are,” the receptionist said, focused on the computer screen perched on her desk. “Did you want to register a last name with that, for quicker searching?”

“It’s my right to not have a last name,” Melody said in a joking tone, even though she was completely serious. She was certain the image of her holding four massive shopping bags in each hand did nothing to dismantle the illusion of carelessness she presented.

She was proven right when the receptionist winked at her. “Understood. Well, here’s your floor pass and the key to your new room. Your belongings have already been transferred there by hotel staff, so please let us know if anything is unaccounted for.” The receptionist glanced at Melody’s bags, but continued gamely on, “The elevator is down the hall, to your left. Congratulations and enjoy the two hundredth floor!”

“Thank you,” Melody chirped back, taking the offered items after some bag juggling and followed the woman’s directions.

As the elevator took her a floor up, Melody thought how fortunate she was that the world she lived in held such an appreciation for discretion. Or maybe it wasn’t the world at large, but rather the parts of it she chose to interact with. It had been a few years since she’d had to leave her family name behind, only hearing it spoken aloud in the rarest of circumstances. Chairman Netero knew where she came from—it was the reason for their arrangement—but since their initial meeting, he had never used it in reference to her, out of respect.

Some might say she was running. Melody would argue it was hard for anyone to tell when even she didn’t exactly know whether she was running from or running towards something. She was existing, and that was enough.

When the elevator doors opened, Melody was immediately greeted by a pink-haired floor clerk, the woman’s sleepy eyes matching the mellow tone of her voice. “Welcome to the two-hundredth floor. Please follow me to the registration desk.”

“Of course,” Melody said. As she walked in step with the floor clerk, she took in the floor’s red carpet and the decadent, black marble panels lining halfway up the walls, which were trimmed with gold, and thought, Yeah, people definitely think they’re hot shit up here.

“You will have until midnight to register as well as a 90-day period to fight a match. Failure to do either of these things will result in your rejection, and you will have to return to the ground floor.” The floor clerk’s inflection didn’t change as she spoke, granting a dreamy quality to her voice. That, or she was acutely exhausted. Given the kind of people who came to Heaven’s Arena, Melody could believe it was the latter.

Melody followed the floor clerk as she turned a corner on their left and walked down a short corridor, where they would again turn either left or right. Melody predicted, given the layout of the tower and the various rooms they had passed so far, it would be to the right. Was Ilmyr on this floor, or had he been assigned somewhere higher?

The floor clerk continued, “There are currently 174 fighters registered for the 200th floor. All weapons are allowed on this floor and above, so feel free to use what you have. Also, prize money will no longer be awarded, as all fights from this point forward are fought strictly for honor and glory.”

“You’re kidding,” Melody interrupted, scoffing. The floor clerk’s serene state was shaken at last, and she looked taken aback. Melody leaned toward her conspiratorially. “That’s definitely a rule a man made up. I bet I’m the only woman on this floor right now, aren’t I?”

“W-well,” the floor clerk tried, “there might be a few others. At least one of the Floor Masters is—”

“Exactly. This place has thousands of fighters, but only a handful of women. Want to know why?” Melody cupped her mouth and stage-whispered to the clerk, “It’s because we have far better things to do, and far better ways to fight.” She straightened, saying at normal volume, “‘Honor and glory,’ please. Only men come up with this crap.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when she felt it. A menacing aura drenched in lethal intent aimed directly and solely at her. A Nen attack. Her own defenses instinctively reacted, her body encasing itself in aura that protected her from the attack. Melody’s head snapped toward the direction the deadly aura had come from, and she quickened her steps.

“What’s—” the floor clerk began, but Melody cut a hand toward her in a gesture to stay back. But the instant Melody crossed into the new corridor and turned left, the aura faded, vanishing so swiftly it was like it had never existed.

And of course, there was no one there. Melody examined the hall expanding out to either side of her, but no one was currently roaming its carpeted floors. Someone was well trained in Zetsu as well as Hatsu, for even though she searched with aura amplifying her sight, she couldn’t detect a sliver of her attacker’s Nen or where he had gone.

Not that she expected to. And not that the failure prevented her from angling her body back to the left side of the corridor, the last place she’d felt its presence. Narrowing her eyes, Melody sent out a wave of her own Nen, laced with bloodlust. She knew it wouldn’t do any good. It wouldn’t reveal her attacker, who could be anyone from Ilmyr catching onto her or some idiot trying to fuck with her.

But it would send a message. She may not care about these fighters’ ultimate goals concerning Heaven’s Arena, but she was just as willing to get her hands dirty in the ring with the rest of them.

Just maybe not with all these shopping bags.

“Sorry, ma’am. I thought I heard something.” Melody smiled sheepishly at the floor clerk and jabbed a thumb in the opposite direction she’d sent her Nen, the shopping bags rustling with her movement. “Registration’s this way, correct?”

It didn’t take long for Melody to be assigned a match. Luckily, her challenger had mistaken her as a rookie in Nen as well as a clueless newcomer to the floor. Melody supposed her evenings spent floating around to the Arena’s many bars, buying people drinks, socializing, and winning a few hands at cards was paying off. Even though she didn’t always dress the part, her bored socialite act was allowing her to fly under the radar here as well as it had done on the floors below, even if she often staggered back to her room in the early morning hours, drunk and happy to forget why she was here. Melody hadn’t been forced to reveal the true extent of her Nen abilities during her match, allowing her to continue gathering information on where her mark was.

No one she schmoozed had ever heard of an arena fighter named Ilmyr, however. Perhaps it was naïve of Melody to have hoped that he hadn’t chosen to operate under an alias, given that the Hunter Association itself was looking for him.

On the other hand, many people did know of a fighter named Milyr, who matched Ilmyr’s exact description: mid-thirties, stocky frame, tree trunks for legs, brown eyes, and hair to match. When Melody discovered this, she’d found the bar’s camera located in a shady corner near the cash register and gazed across the room at it through blurry eyes that were warm and dull with alcohol, as if Netero were somehow watching on the other side, rolling with laughter at her expense.

The next morning, Melody found herself at the registration desk. She flipped a lock of hair over her shoulder as she filled out new forms, her sky-blue tank top shifting as smoothly as water with her movements. She shifted from foot to foot, heel-to-toe and back, her black jeans and boots rustling against each other as she debated on when to fight next. With wry amusement, she realized she didn’t want to at all, but she couldn’t leave until she found Ilmyr or he chose to leave himself.

Melody filled in the very last day of her 90-day period she wanted to fight a match, viewing the date as a hard deadline. By that point, she would find Ilmyr and be long gone from here. Any longer, and she’d risk her cover as well as her life fighting stronger opponents she wasn’t ready for.

Until that time, she had no choice but to either plot in her room or roam the Arena in search of leads. This time, she elected for her room. Perhaps she could call Netero for another clue he’d overlooked that could help her, but as she rounded a corner to get there, she heard the upbeat chatter of two young boys.

“Gon, wait! Your arm!”

“I’m fine, Killu—omph!”

Melody staggered as one of the boys ran headlong into her, his forehead banging into her clavicle. The black-haired boy ricocheted, falling back on his rear, and Melody winced. What the hell was the kid’s head made out of?

“Oooow,” the boy groaned, clutching his head as one brown eye was clenched shut. The second he saw her, though, he shot to his feet despite his right arm being in a cast and sling. “I’m so sorry, miss!”

“Gon! Watch it! The room’s not going anywhere.” The other boy gazed at her with impassive blue eyes through tufts of white hair. “Sorry about him. He’s easily excitable.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Gon said, bowing frantically at her.

Melody knew who both of them were—Gon and Killua. It was hard to miss the stir these two kids had caused by fighting in a place as insane as the Heaven’s Arena. “It’s fine, no harm done,” she reassured them with a smile. “Bad luck fighting Gido,” she told Gon, indicating his injuries. “But you clearly pick up on things fast. You’ll definitely beat him next time.”

Gon’s entire face lit up, and Melody could swear it was brighter than the sun on the hottest summer day. “You really think so?”

“Sure, so long as you don’t keep bumping into people.” She grinned. “Not everyone’s as nice as I am. Or as nosy. How come you’re not fighting any matches yet, Killua? I know the crowd’s really looking forward to it.”

Killua looked momentarily taken aback that she acknowledged him. He folded his hands behind his head. “I don’t want to leave Gon behind,” he said simply.

“That’s sweet. You sound like very good friends.” She stepped out of their way. “I won’t hold you up. Just know you have at least one person on this floor who’s rooting for you both.”

“Thanks,” Killua said with all the sincerity of a politician. But there was a spot of red on his pale cheeks, as if he wasn’t used to the attention or the praise.

The boys moved to pass her until Gon spun around. “Oh, what’s your name?”

“It’s Melody.”

Gon waved at her with his good arm. “Nice to meet you, Melody! See you around.”

“See you,” Melody called before glancing at the ground. “Wait!” She stooped, plucking a very familiar-looking card from the floor. “I think you dropped this, Gon.”

“Oh, thank you!” Gon rushed to reclaim it from her, sighing a breath of relief. The relief was short-lived as Killua rapt him one good time on the back of his head.

“Idiot!” Killua scolded. “Didn’t you tell me new Hunters are most likely to lose their licenses within six months? You need to be more careful.”

“Sorry, sorry! But that’s why I have you here, right, Killua?”

“I’m not keeping track of your license for you, idiot, so forget it.”

Melody took in Killua’s long-suffering mien and Gon’s apologetic wince and said, “Good friends, like I said.”

“Thanks again!” Gon waved. Melody waved back as they slipped around the corner.

So, that kid was a Hunter. Would wonders ever cease? She continued her walk to her room, marveling at the sheer amounts of energy Gon and Killua both had. Had she once been able to bounce back as effortlessly like that? She honestly couldn’t remember. It wasn’t until a few years ago that she’d taken the Exam and gotten her license. For Gon to attempt it at his age… Perhaps Killua had, too. Melody realized that there would now be one downside to leaving Heaven’s Arena so quickly. She wouldn’t get to witness how those two grew and advanced through their matches.

But maybe when she called him, Netero could tell her precisely how that particular Hunter Exam had gone.

Her mind preoccupied, Melody found her room, but before she could unlock the door, she immediately tensed. At once, she was looking widely around, Gyo activated in her eyes.

To her right, she saw it clearly. A small wisp of Ilmyr’s aura, which was a dense jade green color, just as Netero had described. He had been here, possibly looking for her.

Melody checked that the short swords she’d returned to the sheaths in her boots were secure. Then, grimly, she followed the trail, all thoughts of bright-eyed young Hunters forgotten.

At last, she found Ilmyr’s room. His aura had led her straight to it. Melody was all too aware that this was meant to be a trap, and she was going to spring it anyway. She wanted the job to be done.

There was no need for stealth. Ilmyr knew she was coming, so using a small burst of aura, she made short work of the lock and forced her way into the front door.

Aside from its immaculate state, the room was a mirror image of hers. There was a small round table with two plush, red armchairs a few feet in front of her and to the right of a floor lamp, nightstand, and a red-quilted, queen-sized bed. To Melody’s immediate right was a long desk that also acted as a stand for the flat screen TV, which was turned off. The curtains of the windows were all drawn back, allowing moonlight to filter inside, the only source of light in the dark room.

Melody crossed the entryway into the main area, her footsteps silent on the hardwood floor. She continued using Gyo, her eyes combing the room, looking for her prey, waiting for an attack. Ilmyr must have concealed his aura, waiting for her somewhere deeper inside, because so far the room was empty, but she didn’t allow herself to relax.

The faint sound of running water reached her in the tense silence, from either a shower or a sink. Perfect. Melody glided on the balls of her feet to the closed door that led to the bathroom.

She drew to a halt, frowning. Netero had told her Ilmyr wasn’t the type for theatrics, so if he was truly expecting her, why was he bothering to string her along like this? It wasn’t his style, and in any case, she was already deep inside his territory. An attack should have come from him by now, or at least, they should have already been talking. Something wasn’t right.

Melody’s hair on her arms and neck rose the same time the water shut abruptly off in the bathroom. A second later, she was dodging a projectile aimed straight for her head, and it was coming from somewhere behind her.

She swiveled to face Ilmyr, heard the impact the projectile made as it sunk into the bathroom door, but it didn’t matter. Her hand had reached down for the blade in her boot, but the effort was equally futile. Before she could even brush the hilt, her arms were being jerked back, her entire body following until she was slammed into the door hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs and cause dark spots to erupt across her vision. Her feet scrambled to reach the floor, but all she managed to do was bang her heels against the door.

When she managed to clear her sight, she discovered that her arms were pinned to the door by a pink aura wrapped separately around both wrists. Try as she might, she couldn’t pull them away from the wood, her wrists stuck firmly in place, and her own Nen wasn’t dispelling it. She caught a glimpse of something to her right and found that the projectile resting centimeters from her head wasn’t a knife, ax, or throwing star.

It was a card. The four of spades.

Fear surged through her veins as cold and crippling as ice. This was not Ilmyr’s room, and the soft, amused laugh she heard did not belong to him, either.

Melody’s breaths grew uneven as Hisoka Morow, the Magician, made his slow advance toward her. The clip of his shoes against the wooden floor was deliberate, sharp, and slow, like the second hand of a clock counting down to her demise.

All her bluster was gone. If Gon and Killua had become overnight sensations in Heaven’s Arena, then Hisoka was infamous. The rumor mill absolutely churned concerning him. Melody had heard plenty of stories, both outlandishly fictionalized and too gruesomely real to be denied, and she’d soon decided that she never wanted to meet him in person, let alone find herself facing him in the arena. She’d glimpsed him only once through the advertisements promoting his upcoming match with Kastro, the announcer’s voice delivering stats to the viewers with almost breathless glee. Hisoka never lost a fight except through willful absences, and every time he did fight, he didn’t just defeat his opponents.

He ruined them.

“Isn’t this novel?” Hisoka said, his golden eyes glinting in the moonlight. There was a playful quality to his voice she hadn’t expected, as if everything were a joke only he was privy to, the syllables dancing in the air in cruel mockery of her. “No one’s ever attempted this before. Your timing could use some improvement, though. I was about to bathe.”

Hisoka looked the same as he had on her television. Same bizarre magenta hairstyle, face paint, baggy pants, and heels, but for one major difference. He was shirtless from the waist up, and judging from his smile, he wasn’t at all perturbed by it.

Because he’d known she was here, probably since the moment she’d stepped on this floor, never mind the sloppy way she’d breached his room. Because he obviously was the type for theatrics, and he had been gladly playing with her for much longer than she knew.

And Ilmyr had known Hisoka would do so. What he’d done went beyond merely tricking her and drawing her into a trap. Ilmyr had used a much stronger predator to intercept his own, and his aura had been the bait.

“There’s been a mistake,” Melody said, sounding much calmer than the heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears implied. “I didn’t come here to kill you. I’m not here for you at all.”

“Is that so?” Hisoka’s tone turned patronizing, matching his smile. “I could almost believe you, if it weren’t for the way we met.”

“I know this doesn’t look great on my part—”

“I’m not talking about right now. I’m referring to this.” Hisoka raised his hand, and Melody barely got her Nen shield up in time before an onslaught of aura with lethal intent struck her.

Though she had never met Hisoka in person before or attended any of his matches, she couldn’t deny how incredibly familiar the feel of his bloodlust was. Not when it was the very same that had greeted her so spectacularly upon her arrival on the 200th floor.

“You initiated me,” she gasped out when his Nen had receded. Her voice rose towards distress at the end as she recalled how she’d reacted. She’d been playing some kind of Nen tennis unawares, not with a contender she could handle, but with a man who didn’t care about who he killed or why. The exact kind of person she’d been trying so hard to avoid. But she seriously hadn’t thought that someone on Hisoka’s level would deign to give her the 200th floor’s traditional greeting, much less take any sort of notice of her whatsoever.

“Yes, and not only did you pass, but you answered with some intriguing aura of your own.” The corners of Hisoka’s lips turned up into points. “Some people might call that flirting.”

Melody had no idea how to respond to that notion, so she changed the subject. Maybe she could logic her way out of here. Maybe Hisoka could be reasoned with. “I’m looking for an ex-Hunter named Ilmyr, though I think the idiot goes by Milyr here. Whatever. If you know where he is, then tell me, and I’ll leave right now and kill him slowly for wasting both of our time.” She tugged experimentally on the Nen binding her wrists, which still didn’t budge. “I just need you to let me go first.”

“Hmm.” His gaze never leaving hers, Hisoka toyed with a card in between his fingers, making it disappear and reappear with a lazy flick of his wrist. “I hoped you’d be more interesting than this.”

It wasn’t that Melody cared about Hisoka’s frown of disappointment or the way his sharp eyes honed into something that eviscerated with a look. But his voice… It had dipped from playfulness into something darker, the sound evoking chills that slinked down her spine. With that, she knew her instinct was screaming at her that his disappointment was the last thing she wanted, that if she’d truly obtained it, she needed to get as far away from him as possible.

But it wasn’t possible. His Nen still held her in place, and her skin began to grow jittery with panic, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. Stay calm.

Melody inhaled deeply and said with all the icy venom she could muster, “Remove your Nen, and I’ll show you how interesting I can be.” She smiled coldly, leaning her head back against the door leisurely, so she could look down her nose at him. “Unless you’re afraid, of course.”

“Oh, I’m terrified.”

The alluring quality of his voice pulled at her, but she had no idea if its returned presence was a good or a bad sign. Normally, Melody could read people and their moods intuitively, but with Hisoka, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. And right now, she really needed to know if he was seconds away from killing her or not.

Hisoka dragged a finger along his jaw, eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Why aren’t you using your Nen ability to fight back? I’ve been wondering that since you’ve stepped on this floor.” Melody’s eyes widened, the only sign of her surprise, but it was enough for Hisoka. “You must have at least one, or you wouldn’t be pursuing such intriguing prey, would you, little Hunter?”

Melody’s body went as stiff as the door pressed against her back. “I never said I was a Hunter.”

“No, but outside the most talented of assassins, only Hunters hunt down their own for going rogue, and you’re obviously no assassin. Yet someone went to all the trouble of teaching you Nen, so there must be some reason.” The lulling cadence of Hisoka’s voice both teased her and excluded her, as if by the end of his speech, Hisoka was talking to himself. Measuring her worth, she realized with a jolt of alarm. His eyes glinted as they rose to hers again. “What’s your Nen type, little Hunter?”

Melody set her jaw and stayed silent.

Hisoka’s eyes became half-lidded. “Oh, a stubborn one. Be careful. I’m starting to see the appeal.” He lifted a hand as if accepting an offering from her, his sharp nails reflecting the moonlight. “Won’t you give me a taste of your ability? Do that, and I’ll let you go.”

Both of Melody’s parents had warned her about her pride, that it would damn her one day. She figured it was about to do so again. She turned her head to gaze dispassionately out of a window, the view nothing but inky blackness outside.

“Not even if I do this?”

Melody flinched as another card—the queen of hearts—landed just above her eye line at a sideways angle, embedding itself halfway into the doorframe. Her forehead began to sting, and she felt the blood slowly beading along a razor-thin cut. She whipped her head to snarl at Hisoka, only to freeze, her vision blackening around the edges, tunneling towards one single object in the room.

Hisoka was laying out his deck of cards on the table in an arrangement she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that his back was to her, and there, displayed proudly between two defined shoulder blades, was the tattoo of a black, twelve-legged spider, a red “4” blazing at the center.

The symbol of the Phantom Troupe, and that number meant he was truly a member.

Melody’s vision went completely black, and a rushing noise sounded in her ears until she was deaf to everything around her.

As much as she’d always been condemned about her pride, she’d also been praised about her ability to stay calm, even in the most trying of circumstances. A lot of it was pretending, but all that time faking it had made some of it real. Every major decision she’d made about her life up until this point had hinged upon that sense of calm. It was the thing that separated her from the rest of her family, and it was the thing that anchored her when she’d finally obtained a hint of knowledge and decided she’d wanted more, so much more, and the only price to pursue it would be her family.

Serenity was the name she’d given to her numbness when she learned she’d paid that price.

She was not feeling serene or numb now, despite how much she told herself she would if a moment like this ever came. Instead, rage erupted inside of her, a dark dragon birthing itself from embers that rested in the deepest pits of hell, and the blackness in her eyes burned away to shining crimson.

It had been such a long time. Melody wondered fleetingly what she looked like now, with her Kurta eyes. Was she the demon outsiders had always claimed the people of her clan were, unnerved and afraid of their unnatural crimson gaze, the cause of their isolation from the world? Was she an animal whose only instinct was to fight until death?

Yes, she was. She knew that because the only thing she wanted to do was rip off Hisoka’s head and let every drop of his blood spill into her mouth until she stopped hearing the voices of her family crying out to avenge them. Why hadn’t she avenged them? Why hadn’t she done anything?

She had avoided this for so long, and now there was no escaping it. Yet now, with her blue eyes changed to red, the feral part of her wondered why she’d ever wanted to try.

Done with his arrangement, Hisoka plucked a card from the table and laughed to himself with the airy amusement of a well-fed spider gloating over the struggling moth he’d caught in his web, just for fun. “What fearsome aura you’re giving off now. Are you finally motivated enough to play with me?” Before Hisoka could throw another card, he saw. “…Oh.”

Hisoka drank in the red glow of her eyes in the dark, his own widening, but not with fear. Instead, it was something like awe, anticipation…

Arousal.

“You’re a member of that clan.” His slow smile now was more terrifying than it had ever been, sadistic and lascivious. Even his eyes seemed to smile at her, encouraging her for more, but there was nothing warm or good intended in either of those things. He continued roughly, “Of course you are.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Melody promised, her voice close to guttural.

Hisoka licked his lips and purred, “Show me how.”

The door behind Melody erupted into chunks of wood and splinters, some of which she took with her as she launched herself at Hisoka, his Nen still like adhesive cuffs around her wrists. A wild beast slipped from its leash, she’d never moved faster in her life with such singular intent to maim than she was at this moment, and it was enough to barrel straight into him. Colliding with his body was like jumping from a ten-story building only to meet solid concrete at the bottom, but it didn’t stop her from tackling him into the table, which quickly fell to pieces, cards fluttering around them as they both landed on the ground.

She might have punched him as much as she punched the floor into splinters; she couldn’t tell. Her entire existence was only red and rage and retribution.

But no matter how fast she was and how strong her eyes made her, it didn’t change the fact that she was still fighting someone with more experience than her and more knowledge of Nen.

Just as she aimed to break in Hisoka’s teeth, her fist impacted gray smoke instead, his body vanishing completely. Melody stumbled to her feet, not because she was trying to get her bearings, but because she wasn’t being given a choice. Something pulled her forward by the naval, and she didn’t need an expert to tell her it was Hisoka’s Nen.

Melody dug her feet into the floor to stop it, but she skidded forward regardless, eyes flying wide open as she saw where she was being dragged. She braced a boot against the box spring and gave a snarl of outrage when Hisoka’s Nen gave a final hard tug, forcing her entire body to pitch forward until she face-planted heavily onto the mattress.

Her body barely bounced, her head unable to rise, before Hisoka’s weight was there, straddling her hips, one hand twisted painfully in her hair as he locked her left arm behind her back. He didn’t have to bother with her right, not when his Nen had it pressed against the bed. With a sickening lurch in her gut, Melody realized he could have kept her in place with his Nen completely if he wanted to, but he’d chosen to get physical with her instead to prove just how much stronger he was.

And to prove just how little damage she’d actually dealt him. His pale face didn’t have a hint of blood, swelling, or bruising, the star and tear drop on his face immaculate. Only a few disheveled strands of hair parted from the rest indicated that she had ever touched him at all, and he looked so fucking satisfied.

Melody squirmed, trying to shift. Maybe if she could get a leg up, she could—

She couldn’t stop the cry of pain that escaped as Hisoka twisted her arm so hard, she swore her shoulder had popped out of its socket. Agony exploded from that point with an arrow’s swiftness, and she bit it back until it was just a dying whimper in the back of her throat.

A hiss managed to escape as Hisoka pulled her hair until her neck craned into a painful arc, his lips close enough to brush her ear and his voice thick with arousal. “Move like that again, little Hunter, and I’ll consider that the continuation of our foreplay.”

Melody became acutely aware of Hisoka’s body hovering about her own, the warmth of his bare chest evident through her thin tank top, but what was more alarming was that hard thing against her backside. Fear and revulsion warred for attention inside of her, but she searched for her fleeting rage instead. It was enough to keep her eyes red, her emotions heightened well past the point she was used to. She almost laughed. Of course her eyes were still red. All the better for Hisoka to finish the Troupe’s job of killing the last Kurta and ripping her still crimson eyes out of her skull to sell to the highest bidder.

Unless he was going to do worse to her first, all to improve the color’s luster.

But instead of all her fears, Hisoka murmured into her ear, “I have a secret to share with you, little Kurta, but you have to promise not to tell.

“And, you have to promise me something in return.”

She shouldn’t humor him, but what choice did she have? He wasn’t even holding her left arm anymore because it was out of its socket. Now he was toying with the strands of her dark hair that rested against her back, his nails scraping against the exposed skin by her shoulder blades. Tremors of pain flared every time he played with her left side, to the point where her voice trembled. “What secret? And what do I have to promise?”

“You haven’t ripened yet; I see that now. But you’ve been holding yourself back, afraid the Spiders are going to find you, haven’t you?”

“A lot of good it did because they have.”

“Have they?” Melody felt his lips curve more than she saw it. “I have no intentions of telling them. The Kurta massacre was before I killed the previous Number Four, so you see, I had nothing to do with it.”

Every inch of Melody’s blood pounded with this knowledge. She had to remind herself that she couldn’t trust him no matter how placating and convincing he tried to sound. “You’re lying.”

“That’s not even the secret. First, you have to promise me that you’ll grow stronger. Otherwise, the next time I see you, I’ll have to kill you out of boredom.”

“Why would I promise you that?”

“Because if you don’t”—Hisoka said with a dark, rumbling purr—“I’ll kill you right now.” To emphasize that point, he reached up under her until her head was trapped between the hand clenched in her hair and the one now wrapped around her throat, his nails pricking her skin.

He could cut her open with a quick slice of those nails. He could choke her until she passed out and keep going so she’d never wake again. He could twist her head until her neck broke and she fell limp, dead in an instant. All of this, before ever using his Nen.

She had no idea how many creative ways he could kill her using that.

“Fine, I promise,” she said shakily, her throat vibrating against his hand.

“Such a good girl,” Hisoka praised. Something pinched the lobe of her right ear, but it happened so fast, she wasn’t sure if he had scratched it or bitten it. “Has anyone ever told you, you look so adorable like this?”

“Uphold your end of the bargain,” she growled. “What secret?”

“You are not the last surviving member of your clan.”

It would have been kinder if he’d just dug her heart out with those claws of his he called nails.

“Yes, I am,” she said, the words straining to get out as her throat tightened. Her eyes stung, but she blinked the terrible feeling away. “They were all defenseless. They all died. The only reason I didn’t is because I wasn’t there.”

“And neither was Kurapika.”

Everything froze. Melody thought her heart had stopped, her body going completely limp on Hisoka’s bed. Numbness swept through her again—or was it calmness—and her eyes faded back to blue. She barely felt Hisoka’s hand scraping to the back of her neck. “What did you say?”

“The way you’ve been parading around the arena. You try to hide it, but peel back the façade, and it’s all there,” Hisoka said, and the mischief dancing in his voice implied he was gloating at figuring her out, at least partly. “You both have the same stubbornness, the same capacity for growth. The same eyes, especially when they’re full of that same determined expression.”

Hisoka’s body shuddered against hers. He spoke with deadly softness, as if he were on the precipice of something. An unblemished sheet of glass right before a splintering impact. “By the time the Exam was halfway over, I barely recognized him, just like I barely recognized you when your eyes finally changed.”

“Hold on.” Melody’s head was spinning as she fought to catch up with what Hisoka was telling her. “Kurapika took the Hunter Exam? With you?”

She tried to remember how old Kurapika would be now. In his teens certainly, a decade younger than her, maybe less, but it was hard to be sure. The Kurta clan had been large enough that she didn’t know every member extremely well, but she remembered her fourth cousin, his bright smile that went along with his bright eyes and sunshine hair. What did he look like now? How had he survived the Exam with Hisoka being there?

Unless Hisoka really was telling the truth, and his allegiances weren’t truly with the Phantom Troupe. The thought did little to comfort her, not when she thought about her cousin. If she as an adult was this much of a wreck, drinking whenever she could and just going from day to day, not really caring about much of anything, then how was Kurapika at his age coping? How had he survived alone this entire time?

And she hadn’t bothered to try and find him. Hadn’t ever dreamed that he could still be alive. The thought crushed her, threatening to drag her down into despair until—

Netero.

The name struck her like a bullet to the chest. Isaac Netero was the chairman of the Hunter Association. Netero would have overseen the last Hunter Exam, the one with Gon, Hisoka, and Kurapika. Netero knew who she was and where she’d come from, and he’d never said a word.

Not a single fucking word. Instead, he’d given her this assignment and sent her on her way, ensuring she would never get a glimpse of her cousin.

“Did Kurapika pass the Exam?” Melody asked flatly, her gaze a cold, deep blue, but deep down, she somehow already knew the answer.

“We both did, in case you were wondering.” The bed shifted as Hisoka rose from it, his weight leaving her at last.

“I wasn’t.” Melody stayed where she was. Her shoulder was a wreck, and Hisoka’s damn Nen was still in effect. “Where is he?”

“Who’s to say? Likely training with a Nen master. He’s after the Spiders, after all.”

No. No, no, no. Melody clenched her eyes shut. She’d been afraid of this, so, so afraid. Shit. Her hands balled into fists. What was she supposed to do?

“But,” Hisoka continued lightly, “I know where he’ll be.” Even if Hisoka didn’t identify as a Troupe member despite the mark on his back, he was still a spider even now, drawing her into another web she couldn’t help but be lured into.

He must have passed the Hunter Exam so easily. Tempting prey with the right bait came so naturally to him.

In hindsight, Melody realized she should have asked Hisoka why. Why did he know where her cousin would be? Why was he helping her find him? Why was he seemingly helping both of them? Instead, she said, “Tell me.”

“Meet me in Yorknew City on September 1st,” Hisoka threw over his shoulder as he stepped through the debris of the bathroom door, the muscles of his arms and back flexing as he removed the rest of his clothes without a hint of shame. “And I’ll show you.”

He was in the shower when he remembered to disable his Nen. Naturally, she left quickly after that, no doubt licking her wounds and going to finally put her prey out of his misery. Part of him was tempted to follow her, to see how she would use those eyes to kill, but he knew he had pressed hard enough for one night. He didn’t want to break his new toy so quickly, and he’d almost come so close so many times tonight alone.

Like when he’d sensed her stalking him.

When she’d refused to answer his questions.

When her eyes had sparked from dead to alive the more he goaded her, turning from dull gray to determined sapphire to bloodthirsty red at last.

When she’d attacked him with every intent to tear him to pieces.

And when she squirmed and cried out in pain so deliciously—

Hisoka twisted the shower knob from hot to ice cold and braced himself against the shower wall, hair falling into his eyes as a deranged grin split his face and freezing water spilled over him.

That little Kurta had made him so…stimulated. His bloodlust was spiking hard, and he wasn’t in a situation where he could give himself over to it.

Hisoka’s arms tensed in concentration. He couldn’t quench it, so he had to get it under control. His fight with Gon was still on the horizon. With a little more training, Gon would win a match and Hisoka would accept his challenge, and nothing was going to prevent that battle from taking place.

Not even the little avenger he was going to painstakingly craft with his own two hands.

At last, Hisoka exited the shower, red hair dripping water down his shoulders and chest. He smirked at the mirror, where the reflection of his fake Phantom Troupe tattoo shown with particular deviance tonight, as if it were congratulating him. He left it there for now; it would be simple enough to remove later with Texture Surprise.

Coming back to the ruin of his living area, Hisoka paused as he caught sight of the two cards he’d aimed at the little Hunter. He drew them back into his hand with Bungee Gum and moved to do the same with the other cards strewn across the floor, but a hint of red caught his eye.

Hisoka spied the thinnest stain of blood on the right edge of the queen of hearts. His eyes became half-lidded, his smirk almost fond as he took it in. He swept his tongue up the edge in a slow lick.

The taste made him moan.

Melody Kurta’s blood was sweet, and he should have never let her go tonight.

But the auction was rapidly approaching, and with it, all his prey would be together in one place, as well as all his new toys, each one more unpredictable than the last.

He couldn’t wait.

#siiiiiiiiggghhh #otp: strangelove #a head full of spiders

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babystuffs · 5 years

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Are you a new parent? Here are your tips

When our first son was born, I was a musician, which meant that, apart from not making much money, I was home a lot during the day with my wife and baby. Sometimes, when I saw she was exhausted, I would try to help out by shooing her off to bed. “Don’t worry,” I’d say to Holly. “I’ll look after him. Get some rest.”

Inevitably, Riley would start fussing. I’d be working away to comfort him, and before long I would hear the thump, thump, thump of Holly running down the stairs as if the house were on fire. Although she never actually said these words, the urgency of her movement and her body language said, “What are you doing to my baby?!” It was as if she just had to know, at that millisecond, exactly what was going on and what she could do about it. Eventually we were able to joke about it, but at first I saw it as interference. I wanted the chance to learn to comfort Riley myself, and I needed the time and space to work it out. I wasn’t going to get anywhere if I got rescued whenever the going got tough.

Top 3 Dutailier Glider Reviews 2019 : Comfort For You And Your Baby! https://www.newmomstuff.com/3-dutailier-glider-reviews-comfort-for-you-and-your-baby

What I didn’t realize was that my wife’s behaviour was much more about her than it was about me. I didn’t understand the pressure she felt to become an instantly competent mom, nor her intense need to bring order to her drastically altered world, and that meant being able to calm her baby.

It might seem odd to begin an article about fathers and babies with a story about a father and mother. However, I think that’s where you have to start because, while a mother has a pretty direct line to her baby, a father’s connection goes through the mother and, in the beginning, the father-infant relationship can never totally exclude her. When a new dad wants to build his relationship with the baby (which we’ll get into later) he must remember that it develops within the context of the mother-baby relationship. If he doesn’t understand this, he may run into trouble.

Best Baby Bottle Warmer Review for 2019 https://www.newmomstuff.com/baby-bottle-warmer

There was a time when we didn’t need to think about this. Gender roles were clearly divided and babies were seen by everyone as women’s territory. But now, fathers have invaded that territory. In our culture, most fathers want to be — and are expected to be—involved with their babies. That’s good, but we need to keep in mind that some of the realities from the past still hold true today.

Women are still socially and biologically programmed to be parents much more strongly than men are. Mothers expect to be “in charge” of babies and, in most families, they assume that role early on. When a father moves in to pick up the baby, he’s moving into her world. Therefore he needs to understand a little about that world.

The first thing to recognize is the intense nature of her relationship with her child. She’s in love, or at least falling in love. Clearly it’s not exactly the same as it is with a lover, but the emotional intensity and the obsession are similar. At times she acts as though the rest of the world is irrelevant. Observant fathers pick up on this and quickly get a sense that something of great significance is going on between their partner and the new baby. Often they are in awe of this relationship and will defer to mother and baby in order to keep from interfering with it. This is partly a good thing—the emerging mother-baby relationship needs to be supported, and fathers can play an important role by mothering the mother. (Somehow, “fathering the mother” doesn’t have quite the right ring to it.) But a father needs to develop his own connection, which means he needs to get at the baby. This is when he can become an “intruder” if he doesn’t watch his step, as my first experiences with Riley illustrated.

How to Clean and Sterilize Baby Bottles: The Ultimate Guide https://www.newmomstuff.com/cleaning-and-sterilizing-baby-bottles

These encounters taught me (although I didn’t fully understand it until later) that the relationship between my wife and our sons was palpably physical. The mind and body of a mother are intimately connected. When a nursing woman hears her baby cry, even if she’s in another room, it triggers the release of a hormone that lets down her milk and makes her breasts leak. That kind of physical response, combined with the strong emotional connection, means that most mothers respond to a baby’s distress more quickly and strongly than fathers. That’s what compelled Holly to take the baby from me sometimes. Even though she desperately needed rest, there was just no way for her to lie up there and relax while he was crying. If her baby was in distress, she was in distress.

It wasn’t really a question of who was right and who was wrong. Holly was right to respond to those cues. That was part of what helped her become a good mom. But, at the same time, I was right to want to learn to comfort Riley myself.

This dynamic plays out a little differently in each family, but I think it speaks to an incompatibility that a man must acknowledge and work around. It requires an adroit balance: He must patiently persist in establishing his own connection with his child, while at the same time supporting and respecting his partner’s relationship with the baby. It’s one step forward, one step back. The idea is to make the forward steps a little bigger.

Source: todaysparent.com/baby/newborn-care/a-rookie-dads-guide-to-newborns/

There simply aren’t words to describe the elation – or exhaustion – you will feel once you have left the hospital and are holding the baby you’ve been feeling move inside your belly. But how to you bathe the baby? Or feed it? Or know what to do with all that poo?

Top 10 Round Baby Crib and Accessories: 2019 Buying Guide https://www.newmomstuff.com/round-baby-crib

For answers on exactly what is going on – and more importantly, what exactly is normal – read this: The lowdown on newborn baby poo

Bet you never thought you’d be so obsessed with human poo before, right? All of a sudden, mothers need to know the colour, consistency and frequency of every poo – as if looking into a nappy will give us the answers to the universe. To be fair, it’s one way to make sure our baby is well fed and healthy. Seeing an off-putting bowel movement can send us into panic mode but here’s what you need to know about the poo:

If your baby is eating normally and doesn’t seem sick, changes in the colour (even green or grey) and consistency of the stool is most likely normal. Expect 6 to 8 stools a day. A newborn’s first stools (known as meconium) are a thick, sticky, tar-like substance, which will then transition into a grainy yellow or brown by day three or four. Formula-fed babies tend to have a slightly formed, yellow or tan coloured stool, while breastfed babies often have a more liquid or creamy mustard-colored bowel movement. If the stool is very frequent, watery and green looking, chances are the baby is having diarrhea.

Best Bottles for Breastfed Babies https://www.newmomstuff.com/best-bottles-for-breastfed-babies

Worried that your little one is constipated because you haven’t seen a bowel movement lately?

Constipated stools will be pebble-sized and firm, sometimes with bloody streaks. The frequency has nothing to do with constipation, as it does with adults. It’s normal for babies to grunt and strain during a normal, healthy bowel movement. In fact, they can be downright vaudevillian during a poo.

All you need to know about newborn skin rashes and blotches

Your baby’s skin might be virginal and pure but don’t expect it to look perfect on a newborn. Here are just some of the blips and bumps likely to afflict your precious bundle:

Newborn acne is very common and, just like their future bouts as teenagers, is caused by hormones – your hormones, that is. Don’t worry; this is in no way an indication of future problems to come, and it should look better in the first few weeks. The best way to treat it is to do nothing – don’t pick, scrub or treat them. Dry and peeling skin is simply the shedding of dead skin, and using lotions won’t speed up this process. Nappy rash is largely preventable. Change your baby’s nappy as soon as possible after it’s soiled. Then after wiping the area clean, use a warm wet washcloth to clean the area and perhaps apply a barrier or rash cream. There’s not much more you can do. If disposable nappies are giving your baby a rash, try switching to cloth and vice versa. Erythema Toxicum is a scary sounding name for a simple and short-lived skin condition: Blotchy red patches with pale centers. Before you know it, the marks will disappear on its own. Birthmarks are another common skin imperfection that comes in all shapes and colors, and even the most alarming looking marks might fade with time. Check with your doctor if you have any concerns.

Caring for the umbilical cord

The umbilical cord will most likely fall off by itself in anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks, and you shouldn’t touch or pick the scab-like stump.

Wash the umbilical cord three to five times a day with plain water or rubbing alcohol, depending on your doctor’s instructions. Discharge (which might contain a small amount of blood) is normal, but if oozing is accompanied with a foul odor, redness surrounding the cord, or fever, call your doctor immediately.

Penis care

Whether to circumcise a baby boy’s penis – which means removing the foreskin that surrounds the head of the penis – is personal, often rooted in religious or cultural norms. Parents should follow their gut and do what they feel is best for their child. Circumcised penises

During the recovery period, dab petroleum jelly on the penis and cover in sterilized gauze with each diaper change until the site heals, usually in the first couple of days.

A little oozing and crusting is normal, as is soreness and a small amount of bleeding. Be gentle and let his body heal on its own. If there is any unusual swelling, odor or excessive bleeding, call your doctor. Avoid submerging the penis in water during this recovery period, which won’t be difficult considering his umbilical cord can’t get wet either. Once the wound heals, simply wash the penis with soap and water.

Uncircumcised penises

There’s no special care needed for an uncircumcised penis beyond washing the outside with soap and water. Until the foreskin is retractable (usually not until puberty), don’t try to clean under it.

Source: kidspot.co.nz/baby/ultimate-newborn-first-week-guide/

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