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sunshine-shitposts · 2 years ago

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epílogo: Wir sehen, doch sind wir blind.

epilogue to this arc! Arc's Masterlist.

CW: mafia dynamics; torture, blood, descriptions of injuries and violence, graffic content ahead. Talk about death and afterlife. —do not read if any of this makes you uncomfortable. Food mentions. Pregnancy mentions.

Special thanks to @softlimefluff and @sunshine-shitposts for all their support and encouragement through this, ily <3

***

It's around ten in the morning when the weight of something small wakes Giorno up. The first thing that comes into sight are his sons' faces. Both toddlers squeak and laugh upon the sight of him awake, climbing off him and scurrying to the other side of the bed between giggles and rushed words.

“Hey,” he mumbles, sitting up with a soft grin, strands of messy hair sticking to his forehead. “You wanna play, boys?”

Jovi shakes his head, grinning as he climbs off bed with a little bit of help from his twin who remains sitting by his side. “Come!” Dante screams, following Jovi into climbing off bed, this time with the latter's help.

Reaching a hand out to make sure the boy doesn't fall off, Giorno sits by the edge of the bed, fixing his shirt and trying to comb his hair, already noticing the absence of Lena in the room. “Where's mommy, boys?”

The twins grin, exchanging looks and, before he has the chance to repeat his question both turn around and run to the door, stopping aside through little giggles and jumps. “Come, come!”

“Okay, okay!” Imitating their cheerful tone he stands up, slicking back his hair on the way to the door and, turning the doorknob, he watches with a wide grin as they run out and into the hall, stopping again by the stairs, looking down and then stepping back, having been told to be careful around stairs and to wait for any of them —him, Lena or anyone of their uncles and aunts— to help them out.

“Come here, Dan, Jojo.” Kneeling to their level, Gio offers one arm to each, waiting until both stand by his sides to lift them up in one arm, effectively carrying both. As he walks downstairs, the music coming from the kitchen already tells him what's going on.

Coming into the kitchen, he stops by the door, grinning as warmth spreads through his chest —there, his team and friends sit having breakfast. Even Ari, Rohan and Ellie are there.

“Well, good morning.” he greets when everyone turns to look at him, kneeling again to let the boys down. Both run up to Lena, who's standing beside Giuseppe —from the look on the chef's face, Giorno could only think she was asking for something foreign to him.

Tugging at her skirt, Dan and Jojo grin, pointing at him. “Mommy! Daddy's here!”

Lena looks back and both boys laugh, already waiting for the usual good morning peck they've always seen.

Walking up to her, Gio takes his time greeting everyone with short pats to their backs and waves —by the time he's before her, he leans in and pecks her forehead earning laughter and cheers from the twins and the soft chuckles from those around them.

Pulling back, his hand instinctively reaches out to the bump, leaving a little caress before he pulls back with a: “Gotta brush my teeth, be right back.”

“Hurry, Ari and I made breakfast!”

***

Leaving the mansion after such a sweet scene feels strange. Even the ride there feels strange —Westwood's nervous looks through the mirror and Lena's silence makes his stomach turn in anxiety.

But it had to be done.

***

SPW Naples branch. Containment Unit Office. 2:11 PM.

It's been months since Chrono had been inside of the glass box the Foundation had locked it in.

Now, the prophet lays there, mouth still sealed —the red eyes that open above its closed lips roam around the office, noticing it has been translated from its UV chambers to an office that resembles one of a CEO: white walls and a simple desk where its glass box resides beside the laptop. From the shadows by the door, it knows there must be up to three or four SPW agents trying so hard to guard it in case anything happens.

Ridiculous.

The door opens and Chrono closes its eyes, choosing to use them later for a special surprise.

There are many things they don't know yet. Future included.

The woman that comes in sight is exactly who it knew would come sooner or later —the man trailing behind her is not a surprise, though it means her reaction has overstepped its suppositions.

Helena Giovanna and of course, her husband, Giorno Giovanna.

Chrono's ears pick on the way he's so silent, probably busy quietly watching over his wife — the prophet's aware Giorno knows Helena like the palm of his hand: knows her wrath is silent and calm, pure terror to those not familiar with. It's almost funny how he's made it his mission to not cause her rage and if someone else did, to help in the quest to destroy her enemies. Possibly under the 'the enemy of my wife is my enemy' logic.

Perhaps Giorno didn't expect things to happen this way —not when his wife's pregnant, tired and not when they have just made it out with the twins' stand fever— but all those things are the ones that make things interesting enough for the fake god.

Its senses pick up on her footsteps and the fact she's quiet and careful as she takes the chair before the desk, rolling it back slowly and, when the sound stops, sitting and getting comfortable with the bump. Only there her eyes fall on Chrono, who can feel her stare. Judging from its visions, it already knows the usual brown tone of her eyes has been replaced with pitch black and anger.

The next events go on just like it knew it would: standing by her side, Giorno's warm palm runs over her shoulders, trying to help her calm down. Then, his free hand reaches out to take out the nails keeping its mouth sealed, leaving his hand resting on her shoulder in the form of a calming presence.

The clicking sound of the nails meeting the wood resounds through the office and soon, Chrono licks and smacks its lips like a hungry newborn would, except for the fact this is just a habit.

Running its gray tongue over its cracked yellow lips, Chrono speaks up. “My, my. Look who's here: the Matriarch of Souls,” its eyes finally pop open and under Passione's bosses surprised glances, those vermillion-colored eyes look down at the bump, “and the Matriarch of Shadows.”

In a blur a hand reaches out, catches Chrono's tongue and a golden hand pops up, taking the pen aside.

Pain pierces through Chrono's tongue as the pen pierces through its flesh and pins the appendage to the table underneath, splashing green liquid around the desk, the floor and on Giorno's shirt and hand.

Before it can produce any other sound, Giorno's already there, using his free hand to keep it from doing anything by pressing down, squishing it against the table without a care of how much strength he's using or the table underneath.

The Don's voice drops a few octaves as he leans over his wife's shoulder to whisper right into the creature's face, green eyes darker like he's turned back into the merciless mafia boss Chrono saw around thirteen years ago. “Watch your mouth or I'll get that eye out with my own fingers.”

Pulling back, and making sure Lena's okay, Giorno retrieves the pen, pressing down and then forward as he does so in order to inflict more damage —the wicked dark grin that crosses his features for a second catches the prophet off guard— without batting an eye when the green liquid splashes his shirt. When he pulls back, Chrono's eyes widen, realizing he did not allow a single drop of blood to fall on his wife's clothes, listening to his final warning:

“Let her talk.”

Taking a deep breath in and leaning back against the chair, Lena speaks up, tone neutral. “Now I can tell that you've never been true to me.”

Her words reach its ears and stroke its ego: the chilling sound that comes out of Chrono's throat makes them freeze in their place —its laughter holds something none of them can name nor have ever heard of before, something new and unwelcome.

It's a fight or flight instinct: one both ignore as Chrono replies with a wide grin, sharp teeth and green liquid that keeps bleeding underneath. “Don't use such strong words —it makes your weakness all the more apparent. Why would you trust me, did you forget how I got here?”

Lena frowns, reminiscing the root of the problem, “I separated you from Matteo because you’re basically a parasite to anyone you decide to possess.”

“You took me out, yeah!” Chrono grins, red eyes trailing between the couple as the green liquid stops bleeding out and instead lays there already coagulated. “Just because you separated us doesn't mean I'm not your enemy still: and before you say anything, I was playing along with this game of mistress and pet.”

In a second, Lena's expression changes —from confusion to calm, the kind that would make anyone freeze and stutter: but not Chrono, who doesn't care about fearing humans.

“I figured you'd say that.” she says, eyes closed and lips curling up into a small smile. Right there, a red haze surrounds her and the rustling of chains emerging from the ground makes Giorno step back, hands behind his back as he watches the scene unfold before him, eyes dull of emotions, hardened with cruelty and rage.

Reaching a hand out, Lena finally looks at Chrono as a chain wraps around her arm and Wire Requiem leans forward, meeting its eyes. “Then, there's nothing else to do with you. Since you can see the future,” taking it out of its box, she holds the yellow, rectangle shaped prophet in her hand, raising it above her head, “Then I don't have to say it.”

A scream resounds through: futile and deafening, echoing through the now empty space they stand in. There, Chrono looks down, sensing something different, feeling something familiar, like an old sensation coming back.

He's residing in his own body. The one he's always been in before possessing someone.

Looking back, the Donna stands before him but what makes him step back is Wire, who looms behind her. In this dimension, the soul reign which he's only heard rumors of, Chrono knows there's nothing he can do: to start off, if he's back on his body that only means she��

“Hey, the soul or the body, Chrono?" Wire starts and the dimension around them lights up in red, like a fire and he's the moth about to dive in. “—which do you think came first?”

Stepping back, Chrono gasps when he's unable to move more: looking down, dozens of hands have emerged from the ground to hold him in place, tugging at his robes and limbs until he gives in, kneeling before Wire and Helena, bent downward and forward, almost drowning him into the red waters underneath. There, Lena speaks up again: “Answer.”

Pondering his reply, Chrono's reply comes in a whisper —unable to see the future, like his abilities have been canceled or taken out of his grasp. “The soul,” he says, “The soul should exist before the body.”

Looking back at Wire, Lena's eyebrow quirks up as the stand moves forward to face Chrono, who's still held down.

“Wrong,” the Matriarch of Souls says, coming to stand before the prophet and, as she curls a finger over itself his face twists up to meet her glance, the coral lightning in the apparent infinite and unlimited soul dimension reflecting off the side of her face. “The body is the soul and the soul is the body.”

With a snarl Chrono trashes against the hands keeping him down, sharp teeth flaring pink under the lightning and red eyes a brighter and wild tone, “You, woman!” staring straight into Lena's eyes, Chrono ignores Wire as he screams. “You want to understand humanity so badly, yet you're still human! You will never know the truth—”

“Don't use such strong words.” Lena quotes, hands behind her back and a calm, chilling smile lifting the corner of her lip, “It makes your weakness all the more apparent.” her smile disappears as she keeps going, “You must know where you are, don't you? This place,” she looks around and the lighting around them makes her eyes look golden. “Here, your powers don't matter: a stand's core is the soul and since this is the soul's reign, anything I don't wish to see will not be available. You claim to be a god, but right now, right here, I alone am a goddess.”

Looking down, Chrono's teeth break through the skin of his lips and as he looks back he makes sure to keep some sanguine fluid pooling at its tongue so the moment he faces her again, the brute force of his tongue moving when he yells splashes her clothes, “Insolent little human, thinking you can fight and compare to a god like me!

She blinks slowly, definitely ignoring the blood stains in her dress —and instead, the calm tone she uses makes him groan, fed up: “You are not a god, not even close. You were named that after the mythological god, but you know, most religions are just fiction. If you were a true God then I wouldn't be able to keep you here. A true God is nothing physical: if god exists then it's probably more like an entity present only in mind. Besides, calling ourselves gods can be considered a sin to anyone who's really deep into that kind of fandom, you know.”

Trashing against the hands holding him back, Chrono snarls and spats multiple unintelligible words between grunts and insults. Soon it all dies as another presence joins:

“Talking about insolence yet you're still the one underestimating your very noticeable stronger enemy. You're truly something else, Chrono.” a deep voice, calm and collected: turning to the direction it came from, Chrono gasps as his eyes fall on Giorno, who's standing there with his hands inside his pockets and Gold Experience Requiem's eyes looming over his shoulder. “You think she doesn't know what she's doing, but if someone understands souls, that is Wire. Just because you fooled us once does not mean it will happen again.”

“Chrono,” Wire calls and the hands that had been keeping him down force him to stand, restraining his legs, arms and torso from facing somewhere else except for her as the Matriarch walks up to him, “You despise humanity but you yourself have human traits,” standing before him, Wire reaches out, hand cupping his jaw, where her thumb and index keep him from talking by pushing his cheeks together, making his lips seal. Like that, the marks from the nails that had been keeping his mouth shut are noticeable, like the scars from damaged tissue during a failed piercing procedure.

“I know you were never true to me or my mistress, but still I wanted to give you a chance to serve her. Now I can't give you another chance,” her free hand comes up, three fingers pressing down onto the orbit of his left eye, dangerously hard, “Because she has already decided over your existence.”

Chrono's screams bounce off the walls, green blood gushing out of his now empty orbits, staining the red water and turning it brown: the eyes he had been keeping a secret lay on the floor by Lena's feet, floating in the water.

“How does it feel, to know your existence lies in the hands of a human?” Wire asks, fingers toying with his robe, “To know she's sentenced you to the worst torture of all?” pouting, the stand tilts her head aside, a twisted grin lifting the corners of her mouth, “If only you had listened. Now you'll join him in your eternal torture.”

As the stand keeps going on her rant, Giorno walks up to Lena, letting Gold Experience approach Wire to watch over her. Standing beside his wife, Giorno asks in a whisper, “who’s that soul she’s talking about?”

Looking up to meet his eyes, Lena uses the same tone to reply, pondering the impact of her answer before she replies, slow and calculated, “Diavolo. Wire's gonna torture Chrono for a while. But…she says she's seen his soul around here.”

Looking forward, Giorno stops to think, trying to understand the implication behind her words, mouth slowly opening to ask, “So that means she gets to know every soul who has left their body after death?”

”Mhm. And see them leave to go back to reincarnate. The only souls who will never leave this place are his (though she says Diavolo’s soul has never left his body completely, because Goldie stops that from happening completely) and from now on, Chrono. There are probably plenty of others, but Wire refuses to let me know.”

Giorno hums, quoting the stand. “Something us humans will ever understand?”

“Exactly.” Looking forward, and watching over the grotesque scenario before them, Lena frowns, seeing Chrono's head turned in their direction: despite the lack of his eyes, he still makes sure to face the place he last saw them standing in.

The grin that spreads through his face even when Wire tears his arm off makes a chill run down her back as Giorno's arm extends up across her middle, intending to protect the baby: as both wait for the fake god to talk, Wire stops, reinforcing the hold around his legs and torso.

“So,” Chrono speaks up, voice hoarse from screaming, “What's the issue? You sealed their stands, didn't you? Why must you do this?”

Lena frowns, not moving from her spot behind Giorno's arm but leaning in to reply, tone firm: “You could have just said the truth and none of this would be happening.”

Chrono's grin widens and he chuckles, laughing loudly and uncontrollably: “That's the fun of this, Mistress! Your desperate attempt to have a normal life being stand users and criminals is ridiculous!”

Shaking his head no, Giorno looks back; “Don't talk to him, he's just trying to mess with—”

There it goes again, the same hoarse voice, broken from screaming and laughing though this time his question goes to Giorno;

“Bruno Buccellati! You couldn't save him, right?”

Stopping and turning back to face him still with his arm up in a protective stance, Giorno's jaw remains so tense Lena can hear the sheer strength he's unconsciously using to clench his jaw as she steps closer, hands shaking upon the mention of one of the names written in the memorial in their garden back home.

Grinning, Chrono trashes against his bindings, where the metal has turned red and his skin has started to bleed. His wicked grin widens and he leans forward, spitting the words across the soul reign and straight into Giorno's and Lena's faces.

“The girl you're expecting will do what you couldn't. She will inflict the spark of life back and build an army of her own—” listening to the couple's sudden silence the prophet laughs, loud and numbing and opening his mouth to speak again, Wire's already there, silencing him with a flick of her wrist: his larynx in the palm of her hand bleeds and paints the water under their feet with only the sound of said constant drop as the only sound left after the confession.

“Sorry, Mistress.” Wire speaks up, slow and calm despite the grotesque scenario behind her, “I will deal with him. Please, get some rest.”

Pale and slightly dizzy, Lena nods and with a snap of her fingers, the soul reign disappears along with Wire and Chrono.

The silence of the office, where they stand back again, brings uneasiness to both, hands and legs shaking, disoriented and worried.

Gold Experience Requiem circles the couple, pink eyes big with curiosity and intrigue as he asks, “Master?”

Blinking and coming back from the shock, Giorno retrieves the chair from the desk, offering it to Lena: “Don't worry, Goldie.”

The stand's eyes remain on his user, observing his features and watching over him as he extends a hand out, helping her sit and then, slowly, kneeling before her.

“Interesting.” Gold Experience Requiem says, intrigued with Giorno's almost automatized actions. Knowing that anyone who saw that would freak out: to see one of the most powerful men in the world kneeling before his wife, it truly meant he saw her as his equal.

Slowly fading back into Giorno’s soul, leaving behind the faint smell of flowers and honey, the stand's pink eyes linger on the couple, making sure the baby inside her remains healthy.

Silence settles in as Giorno leans his head in her lap, arms around her hips —and her hands leave soft caresses to his back and shoulders.

The first to talk is Giorno, who's voice comes out muffled: “Lena, why did you give Chrono an opportunity? couldn’t we just finish it off back then?”

Tensing up, she leans back to rest her back against the backrest. “A soul can’t be killed, it must follow a cycle of reincarnation until it no longer can and then it should be resting forever, but it will keep its memories and experiences within something called core… I wanted to give him an opportunity because Matteo wouldn’t have been able to do everything he did for you if it weren’t for his powers.”

“Then, what about death?”

She presses her lips together for a second, slowly opening them back again to reply: “death as a concept is only part of this life. What we call life does not end with death, because death is reserved for those alive. When we die, we don't disappear. If a soul has completed their cycle, then they go to a place called Nirvana...”

Silent, Giorno looks back then back down, slowly resting his head in her lap where he rests for a moment, thinking about her words and remembering everything they’ve lived for the past two years since Matteo’s return, feeling her fingers toy and comb over his hair.

Sunrays make their way through the curtains, bathing them and, when Giorno looks back, his hair, eyebrows and lashes shine golden, green eyes that for a second seem gold look back into soft brown ones when he states. “Chrono or not, Matteo is a man of justice. He would have done the same for me in return.”

She smiles, sad and troubled —guilty— and only there Giorno notices the way the sun makes her eyes look amber and her curls to shine in a much lighter brown, freckles standing out like stars in a clear sky despite the clear difference between her smile and her hurt eyes. “Maybe. But I still wanted to. I guess I was wrong.”

“Gratitude doesn’t equal failure. You were just trying to preserve a part of his soul…” standing up, he offers a hand out, ”Instead, why don’t we spend more time with Matteo, let him know what happened?”

Accepting his help, she groans a bit as her back protests from the exertion. “That would make me feel better, yeah.”

As he guides her to the door, his eyes drift to the stain in the carpets and desk, finding none of it: and as he holds the door open and his eyes peek at his shirt and her dress, the green stains are gone too. Ignoring that, he speaks up again. “Do you think he's home?”

“Dunno? But we're showing up uninvited, so we definitely need to bring something.”

Closing the door, both stop the conversation momentarily turning to the SPW agents who stand there, tense, waiting for Lena's orders

“Chrono is no longer with us,” she says, walking before Gio and into the door's direction, still talking to the agents. “You will have a report in three days. Until then, I'm gonna need you to be discreet.”

Both agents nod and the couple leaves, now standing by the lobby.

“Gio,” she calls, holding his hand. “Do you think Esme…?”

Entwining his fingers with hers and spotting West coming to them, Giorno leans down to reply, “I don't think I've processed that yet but I'm sure Matteo or Mr. Polnareff can help us out.”

“Yo,” raising a hand to greet both, Westwood comes to stand before them, a coffee cup in his hand —the exhaustion from past days evident from the way he blinks slowly. Still, the man doesn’t seem to mind as he takes another sip from his beverage. “Where to next?”

Gesturing forward, Gio and Lena walk past him and Westwood follows after them immediately, holding his coffee by the lid. As the automatic door slides open and the three of them stand under the sun, Giorno turns to him:

“First, we’re ordering takeout and then we’re visiting Matteo.”

***

Matteo’s home is not big: instead, it has enough space to be called home and host both him and his nephew Angelo. A safespace after all the violence and blood, as Giorno had described it on the way there.

Standing there with multiple takeout bags in their arms and nervous smiles, Westwood rings the bell, hand coming back down to support the bag he's holding as the sound of the doorbell resounds through the living room inside, met with silence.

Turning to Giorno, Lena hums inquisitively and before her mouth opens the door does. There stands Angelo, messy hair and pajamas —a pair of yellow shorts and a basic red t-shirt —- his jaw hangs open upon the sight of Passione’s bosses: after a moment of wide eyes and a gaping mouth, he curses:

“Oh, shit. Uh,” looking back inside, he steps aside, leaving the door open. “Come in! Sorry, we spent the night awake and we’re, just, uhm…” Standing by the couch, he leans down, takes a bundled up blanket and tosses it behind the couch, pretending to have done it without their eyes still on him. “We just woke up, uncle Matteo should be here soon.”

“Yeah,” setting the bags down, Gio stands back up with a small smile, “Sorry we showed up like this, but there’s something we’d like to talk about with you both.”

“Ah, then I’ll call him.” Turning around, he walks up to the door, presumably the one connected to a hall leading to the bathroom. “Please sit down, I’ll call him. He was taking a shower.”

From her spot by Westwood’s side Lena speaks up, “Do you need help with something around the house?”

With a loud gasp, Angelo turns back around, pointing at the baby bump with a finger and a warm smile and a joke on his lips: “You, miss, are not doing shit around this house. Only rest.”

Laughing, she sits back down slowly, hands up in surrender. “Got it, got it.”

Shaking his head and chuckling, Angelo leaves and as he disappears behind the wall the sounds of birds chirping in the distance fill the silence. Looking around, Westwood silently sits in the couch beside Giorno and Lena, setting his elbows on his thighs: his eyes look around the room, catching on every detail: from the photos hanging in the walls, the vintage decoration and the tv in front of them, to the single dry stain of what he assumes is coffee in the carpet between his feet.

This feels like home, he thinks, back to the days his mom was still with him and his father and they were still a family, happy and uni—

“Good afternoon, GioGio, Lena, Agosto.” The man before them looks younger —healthier than before and definitely happier. The only thing that makes Giorno frown are the dark glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes.

Standing up, Gio crosses the living room in three long strides, offering a hand out for a handshake: instead, Matteo, steps in and grabs at his arm, pulling him in for a hug: rubbing at his back and then, slowly, letting him go with a few pats to his back:

“I’m so glad to see you again.” Walking up to Lena, he offers a gentle hand out, grinning: “Hey, Lena. Are you feeling okay?”

Nodding, she accepts his handshake: her smile grows and her cheeks turn pinker as she rubs a hand at the bump. “Yeah, don’t worry. We’re doing fine.”

“Good,” turning to West, he asks a final question as he offers a handshake to the bodyguard: “I take it it's a girl?”

Westwood’s handshake comes a little bit tighter —a warning— as the couple falls silent, still not over the earlier events.

“I know he’s gone,” Matteo starts as he sits before the three of them, making space for Angelo to sit on the armrest of the couch he’s in. “In fact, I do know some things.”

Sighing, Gio leans back. “Let’s start from the beginning: how do you know it’s a girl…?”

Humming, Matteo ponders his reply for a moment, trying to find the best order to his words and troubled mind. “One of the last visions I had involved her. Right now, I really want to keep the rest of what I saw, because I know you’re excited to meet her and, you know, I’m not a killjoy: you should meet her like every parent does. Besides,” raising his hand, his finger wraps itself around the bridge of his glasses, swiftly sliding them down to reveal his eyes: almost like nothing had ever happened, the hourglass shape on the sclera of his left eye gone, replaced back by his brown orb. “Waking up like this only gave me a clue, but seeing you here confirms my suspicions. You must have done something: you two are, how do I say this, kinda crazy.”

Silence settles in, with the sounds of birds chirping in the small garden filling in the tension.

“Well,” Westwood says, leaning back with a hand over his eyes. “That makes things easier, boss.”

Lena sighs, leaning back with lips sealed and eyes roaming around the floor like it’s the most interesting thing even if she speaks up, slow and almost inaudible. “I didn't want this to happen, Mr. Morte. I wanted to, uhm, honor your will. For all you did for Giogio...”

“Jesus,” Matteo sighs, laughing right after: “You two, how many times do I have to repeat this? You,” he points at Giorno, “You were just a kid! Being a kid is not a sin and it shouldn't condemn you to eternal gratefulness. You need to drop this and just keep going.” Opening his arms to emphasize his surroundings, Matteo grins, knowing his words will soothe them both:

“To me, having you here is enough to know my actions were right: knowing all the blood in my hands was worth something in the end.”

Smiling, Lena nods, wiping a single tear with her finger —by her side Westwood shifts, taking a napkin from the bags and offering it to her as Giorno laughs, hands up his hair.

“Okay,” the Don says, “Then that makes everything easier: we were worried you could have been hurt. Or angry.”

“Oh, no.” Matteo shrugs, standing up and walking to the kitchen, “If I look like this ‘s because we spent the night watching a 98’s series. Knowing Chrono will not hurt anyone is a good thing to know: he's not the type of stand you could consider an ally.”

“Really? Which one?” Eyes following him as he leaves, Giorno grins from his spot, fully agreeing with everything he said regarding the parasite —focusing instead on watching Matteo disappear into the kitchen and emerge back with clean dishes, setting them on the table.

When Matteo looks back his features have turned calmer, serious, like he has deciphered the couple's tense stance and the reason behind it: “Before we keep going, is there something bothering you? My experience with Chrono has been enough to know he never misses an opportunity to mess with others.”

“Now that you mention it,” Lena says, having calmed down already. “He did say something strange: something about Esme.”

“Mhm,” sitting back on his spot, Matteo rubs two fingers at his chin. “So her name’s Esme… What did he say?”

Feeling a chill run down her spine, it takes a moment for her to reply, sensing everyone’s eyes on her by the time she looks back: “That she’s gonna be a necromancer.”

Whistling, Angelo rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, that’s gonna be problematic.”

Pondering his reply for a second, and only after studying Girono’s and Lena’s faces, Matteo shrugs, “Then that only means your stand powers mixed somehow: if anything, I’d suggest contacting someone specialized enough. You should have someone, right?”

Sharing a look, Gio and Lena look back, slowly nodding in unison.

“Then,” Taking a dish and opening the takeout bag, Matteo looks back, a look of disappointment starting to emerge as he notices the couple’s sad, apologetic look: “At least eat a little bit before you go?”

“Sure,” Gio nods, calmer and at peace now that West sent the request to Fugo, “I promise we’ll come back with the boys and share a meal.”

Grinning, the sadness disappears from Matteo’s eyes as he starts to serve the first dish, “The twins! Are their stands active?”

Taking the dish offered to him, West chuckles: “That’s how this started.”

Laughing, Matteo nods, “Then tell me all about it.”

***

An hour later, as Westwood pulls up by the front door of the mansion, Mista stands outside with a nervous look on his face and sweat clinging to his brow.

Helping Lena walk upstairs, Giorno meets the gunslinger halfway, frowning: “What’s wrong?”

Scratching his head, Mista looks back inside, letting Giorno know the door is open. “Did you call the division zero?”

Nodding, Giorno looks between the open door and then back at him. “Yeah, around an hour ago. Why?”

“Dude,” taking his hat off, Mista uses the fabric to wipe his sweat, feet moving furiously from side to side, “He showed up almost two hours ago!”

“Oh?” peeking inside still from her spot, Lena smiles, “He’s here?”

Freaking out, Mista puts his hat back on, running back to the door and trying to block the view. “Why are you happy, Helena?!”

Lena grins, trying not to laugh: “Calm down, Stampede.”

Giorno blinks, eyeing someone standing behind Mista: the gunslinger, sensing the presence, turns around and backs away.

The man in the doorway remains silent, with his usual scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth: his mohawk adds a few centimeters to his full height and the dark circles under his eyes and pale —almost gray— skin give off just how much time he spends in his underground house.

“Hey, Corvo.” Lena greets him, walking up to pat his arm and then inside. The man bows, closing his eyes as he does: then, he waits until Giorno walks up to greet him with a slow blink and a nod.

With Mista deciding to stay outside to 'keep the perimeter safe', Giorno closes the door, turning to the man.

“Sorry I called you like this,” He starts, gesturing at the couch. “But there’s something we wanted to ask.”

He nods three times: an indicator that he already knows that.

Giorno nods, noticing Lena’s gone —probably upstairs to greet the Kishibes and the kids— and looking back, he goes straight to the point: “Does your Empress know of my daughter’s powers?”

Melmoth ‘Corvo’ De Angelis had not always been like this. At least not for the last forty years —until then, he had been a normal, functioning man. After a particular accident where his life had been about to end, something had refused to pick him and guide him to the afterlife.

The something in question being Death itself. She had fallen for him and his gentle heart from the moment she saw his soul drifting between both worlds and instead of following her orders, she had decided to let him live and grant him the ability to never leave the human world, offering her protection.

Corvo had questioned her judgment many times before: but the answer was always the same: she had found it enthralling, to know he and his stand allowed those in the afterlife to communicate and help their souls find peace —with the high price of losing his voice, too. Death had fallen for him, someone she deemed worthy of her eternal care.

His days in Passione were still few, probably just five years: having been found by Paolo during one of his experiments somewhere in Rome, Corvo didn't’ really mind and so, he ended up joining and working under Giorno as the only member of the division zero: a special, secret unit reserved only to lost causes.

The one man division.

To him, not having missions was not a problem at all, since this allowed him to spend less time under the sunlight.

“Melmoth,” Giorno calls and he blinks, snapping out of his thoughts. Nodding, the man reaches for the notebook and pen he keeps on his pockets, writing down his message and then showing it to Giorno:

‘My Empress knows. She does not mind. However, she thinks the girl should receive special education.”

Sighing, a weight disappears off his chest: nodding, Giorno says: “She will. We’re not sure who’ll teach her, but… Worrying about that right now won’t help.”

Melmoth nods, eyes drifting around like he's thinking —then, slowly, he picks the pen back again, gesturing at Giorno to wait.

Leaning back, Gio watches the way the pen slides against the paper: hears the sound of it scraping against the fibers and then, his eyes follow the piece of paper presented to him. Taking it from Melmoth, he reads over the phrase twice:

‘I will be her teacher. My Empress could help, too.”

Looking back, Giorno's reply comes stern and fast, like an automatic response: “Sure. But only when she's older. We will work on suppressing her stand for a few years until she's able to understand life and death.”

Nodding twice, Melomth stands up, knowing his presence is no longer required: bowing one last time, he walks up to the door with Giorno following him.

Hopping on his motorcycle, he puts on his helmet, properly securing it around his head. Turning to Giorno, he makes a 'peace and love' sign as the engine starts. Only when Giorno nods he speeds up, disappearing from his view in a few seconds.

Coming back inside, Gio stands in the middle of the living room, eyes roaming around and taking on the calm aura: the one he had missed the past days. Feeling his phone buzz in his back pocket, he grabs the device and opens the new message from his lockscreen.

When the message loads, a soft grin lights up his face and he walks over to Lena to share, showing her the screen. She glances down, shoulders relaxing when she sees the image: Dante and Jovi have Eliana between them on the couch with huge grins, each holding up their favorite toys out to the photographer.

Tearing up a little, Lena wipes at her eyes and leans onto Giogio’s shoulder a moment. “Make sure to text them thank you. We’ll have to print a copy of that for the boys’ room.”

Giogio nods, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I’ll go call Kishibe and make sure everyone is doing okay.”

Lena watches as her husband exits out the front door, holding her stomach carefully and feeling Esme kick to meet where her hand rests. Closing her eyes, she considers the words Chrono spit out before being silenced.

Matriarch of shadows.

Life and death was something Helena was no stranger to considering, especially with Wire Requiem’s powers. But thinking about someone so small with the power to bring life or inflict death gave her chills.

Pressing against Esme’s kicks, Lena uttered a silent wish, that the shadows would be protection instead of darkness, that Esme’s view of life would be bright and kind, and that all the children and their stand powers would turn out alright.

As a stand user, it could be easy to forget that the powers they all held weren’t common knowledge or normal traits. Becoming a stand user meant shouldering a responsibility to humanity–to use your powers wisely or face the consequences of misuse. Esme would have considerable power, but in the same measure, an extraordinary burden.

Please be merciful. God, universe, death. Whoever you are, pulling the strings. Tip fate in our favor.

#IT DOGLEKFKENFKE FUCKIN AMAZING #HOLY SHIT #again. lena. you know how much i wanna flatten Chrono like he's pie crust. like seriously #lgindjf #friends writing #GioLena

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sunshine-shitposts · 2 years ago

Text

reborn and rebuilt

Collab with @softlimefluff @sunshine-shitposts 💕💕

I'm so happy to have reached this point on this arc and see how every arc from past years has culminated on this!!

Arc's Masterlist.

CW: medical stuff, suggestive content (one scene), unreality, mentions of death.

***

Fugo’s bored: it's not like he wants something to happen because if it did he'd be the first responsible for such an incident. Maybe it's just the lack of change in his surroundings that's tiring him out… Unlike the others, he doesn't want to leave his spot and have someone else monitor the cameras, too caught up wanting to do his best for the Giovanna's.

Leaning on his elbow, his hand moves every now and then, making him lose sight of the multiple cameras —however, he stops once Kishibe Rohan comes in sight, Akashi before him: judging by the way Akashi’s gesturing, he can tell he’s going on detail about one of his stories.

How could he forget the time he confessed his… Bizarre life before being a stand user: He still couldn’t believe he used to be one of Oda Nobunaga’s men.

Sighing and leaning back on his chair, he takes one long sip from his coffee, looking around until he spots Paolo and Abel by the front doors. Rome’s Capo doesn’t look so well, leaning against the wall clutching a mug—their conversation comes through the earpiece, making him stop and listen, even if it goes against his morals.

“The thing is, have you noticed how many, if not all, cultures and religions mention the number twelve?” gesturing vaguely, Paolo counts down every example with his fingers, “Twelve apostles, twelve months, twelve constellations, the twelve labors of Hercules, the twelve Greek gods. Twelve. This started in October…”

Abel nods, finishing Paolo’s sentence. “...Twelve.”

Sighing, Fugo speaks up. “Abel, you should take a break. You too, Paolo. I’ll get West and Pietro there in a second.”

***

Akashi has been ranting for a while now, drifting from anecdotes to actual gossip—and suddenly, as if reminding himself of his initial motives, the short, pink-haired man looks back into Rohan's eyes. “So, Kishibe-sensei, you know I'm a stand user, right?”

Hands stuffed into his pockets, Rohan nods, brow furrowed, almost as if he feels insulted by the question. Pondering his reply for a second, the mangaka nods: “I assume everyone in this mansion is one. Giovanna wants powerful people around to protect his family.”

Akashi scoffs, resting a hand against his katana and nodding. “That's right, man's crazy. Don't tell him I said that though!!” Walking a few steps further, Akashi looks back at Kishibe-sensei with a smile. “By the way, let me tell you something.”

Rohan's brow furrows further —and though he's suddenly reminded of Josuke's comment on how he looks like The Grinch when he frowns, he still brushes it off, letting the swordsman carry on.

“First off,” Akashi starts, a soft and relaxed sway on his walk down the hall, like he's dancing and walking at once. “Have you ever heard of Oda Nobunaga?”

Rohan scoffs. “Of course. One of the three unifiers of Japan.”

Akashi laughs, wholeheartedly. “Then you're gonna shit yourself, man!!!” His expression turns serious, pausing in the hallway a moment. “I was one of his soldiers. My stand, No Plan B, has the ability to not let me die no matter what happens to me.” After letting the information sink in, Akashi’s grin soon returns. “Like the song says: I will survive, I will survive!~”

“You’d need that ability with everything that happened back then…” Rohan muses thoughtfully, glancing at the bedroom door, so close, yet so far away.

“Right?!? You wouldn’t even believe the kind of scrapes I got into back then… I’d be glad to tell you more stories if you want, sensei! Maybe you can use 'em as material for your manga, y’know??”

Holding in a breath, Rohan attempted to calm down. Even if Akashi would be a valuable asset, he didn’t like being told what to do by a stranger. “Perhaps some other–”

“So there we were, the whole field and mountains before us, only horses, our katanas, and–”

Standing there listening, Rohan knew it was going to be a while longer before he could make the few step walk into their guest room. He narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking of some semi-polite way to escape. Just as he was ready to interrupt, Akashi's phone rang, Fugo on the other side.

“You gonna be done any time soon, killer queen?? We still have assignments, you know.”

“Oh damn, what time is it??”

“Too long… Kishibe-sensei has been glancing at the door for the past 10 minutes, dude.”

Eyes widening, Akashi hangs up and bows low, uttering apologies and backing away slowly, then running out of the hallway. Shaking his head, Rohan finally gets to the door, walking inside and very quietly shutting the door again.

Breaking into a smile, he walks over, finding Ellie asleep in a mini bed and Ari napping on the couch. Just like at home. Pulling out his phone camera, he snaps a few pics of Ellie to remember the moment and walks over to Ari, kneeling and petting her head softly.

“Ari, baby??”

She wrinkles her nose gently, letting out a soft whine, and opens her eyes slightly, groggy and still sleepy. “Mmmmmgh???”

Rohan chuckles, laying his palm on her cheek. “Go back to sleep, just wanted you to know I’m here.”

“Mmmm.” Nodding slowly, Ari closes her eyes again, one hand still holding onto his. Kissing her knuckles softly, Rohan pulls his hand away and drapes Ari’s blanket back over her. They all had a long flight and none of them slept particularly well, so he didn’t blame her for needing more rest.

Brushing a thumb over her cheek, he stands, going to make sure Ellie is okay, watching over her quietly as he checks his email.

Spam. Spam. Interview request. Fanmail. Spam. Izumi–

He opens that one, reading over her latest editorial notes:

Rohan-sensei,

In reading the new chapters you sent me, I think the concept is good, but perhaps you could make the reasons for Myo’s quest more obvious? While we all love a mystery, I believe he needs more evident drive for exploring the Coralius Library. His character, while somewhat curious, should have a better reason for being there. Pulling plot points out of thin air is possible, but not the complex and expertly planned storytelling your readers have come to expect. Please revise and turn in new storyboards (at least for the next chapter) within a week.

-Kyoka Izumi

Swearing under his breath and rolling his eyes, Rohan sits down hard on the bed, flopping back onto the covers and racking his mind for ideas.

What more reason does Myo need than pure curiosity???

Looking over at the console table, he spies a fruit basket, left there by the Giovannas.

Of course. Food. Basic sustenance. Even if they’re in the underwater city, Myo and Sana still need to eat. Perhaps there’s a cafe inside or a cultural center… A tower with many vendors like one of the areas in Shibuya… What was it, sharelounge?

Sitting up once again, Rohan opens a new note on his phone and quickly types out the new scene ideas, setting, and pacing, noting that he’ll try to make time for sketches later in the evening or the next morning. Heaven’s Door pops out, reading over Rohan’s shoulder and already forming ideas, discussing the changes with him, then claps his hands over his mouth when the noise wakes Ellie and lowers his voice to a whisper.

“I’m so sorry, master, I forgot Ellie can see and hear stands.”

Rohan waves his hand, dismissing Heaven, and walks over to the small bed, leaning down to find Ellie’s chimera-san and bring it closer to her. She grabs it with a pout and sniffles, letting out little cries once again, still upset about being in an unfamiliar place.

“Heyyy.” Rohan smiles a little, reaching to soothe Ellie. “I know it’s a little scary, but you’re okay, Ellie. You’re safe.” Petting her hair gently, Rohan sings a quiet melody to her, getting her to settle a bit before she sits up, leaning up against the bars of the crib.

“Papa?”

“Hm??”

“Up?”

Sighing and looking over at Ari, he reaches down and pulls Eliana up and out of bed, whispering, “We have to be quiet because mama is sleeping.”

She nods in his arms, clutching her toy by its snake tail. “Quiet.”

Peering into the dim light of the room, Rohan whispers “Hearts on Fire?” and is immediately greeted by Ari’s stand, who recognizes Rohan’s call.

“Rohan? What can I do for you?”

“Can you make sure Ari knows we went for a walk if she wakes up? I don’t want her to worry about Ellie.”

Hearts nods, giving Rohan a gentle smile. “Thank you for thinking of us. I’ll make sure she knows.” Giving Ellie a gentle forehead kiss, Hearts returns to her user, leaving the dull hum of energy behind her, like the static on a CRT TV after it gets turned off.

“Diaper check first, kiddo.” Making sure she doesn’t need changed, Rohan grabs their jackets and shoes, setting Ellie on the edge of the bed to get her little boots on through wiggles and tiny giggles.

When she hops down with his support, Ellie grabs chimera-san with one hand, then holds Rohan’s hand with the other, hanging on tight as they walk out of the room and shut the door gently. Looking down the hallway, Rohan walks slowly to the door leading to outside, making sure Ellie has enough time to walk without tripping.

“Outside?” Ellie looks through the glass of the door, smushing her face onto the pane to get a better look. Rohan chuckles, nodding. ‘Yeah, outside. It’s later in the season, but there’s a nice garden back here. I think the boys have a play area too.”

“Boys?”

“Mhm. Dante and Jovi. Dan and JoJo. They’re your friends, but they’re not feeling well right now. As soon as they’re better you can all play together.”

Ellie nods solemnly, holding tighter to her dad’s hand as they open the door. An electronic alarm goes off for a second, before Fugo’s voice sounds from the nearby intercom.

“Go ahead, Kishibe. We’ve got you covered. If you need anything let us know.”

Pressing the button, Rohan responds. “Thank you, Fugo, was it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to tour the gardens and play a bit. Ellie was getting restless.”

“Understood. I’ll let Don Giovanna know where you are if he needs you.”

“My thanks again.”

The area is fenced off for everyone’s protection, so Rohan lets go of Ellie’s hand, letting her run a bit while he watches carefully, picking up her toy and tucking it inside his jacket when she drops it in her excitement over the gardens. The flowers are mostly gone, except for a patch of drooping sunflowers. Walking up to it and tilting her head, Ellie reaches out and plucks a few bright yellow petals before gasping.

“Papa???? Papa!!!!”

Walking over, Rohan looks down. “Something wrong???”

Ellie’s eyes are welling with tears. “Put back.”

“Put what back??”

“Flower!!! Put back…”

Rohan notices she’s trying to put the petals back where they came from to no avail, and kneels down, opening his hands and taking the petals from her. “When we pluck petals off of flowers, they don’t go back, Eliana.”

“Why??” Ellie frowns, not yet understanding.

Rohan considers the complicated version, of root structures and leaves and biology, but settles on, “when you pull them off, they get separated from the base. Once they’ve left, they can’t return. There’s nothing to hold them there anymore.”

Ellie looks at the petals in her papa’s hand and at the sunflower once more. Leaning forward, she kisses the other leaves that are still intact. “I'm sorry.”

Melting, Rohan takes out his phone and snaps a few pictures, even getting when Ellie finds a ladybug on the sunflower leaf, screaming happily as she points it out and lets it crawl over her hand.

When he gets a good shot, he texts it to a few people–Tomoko, Lena, Sunnie, and to his mom and Ari’s. Everyone loved getting Ellie updates; it was the one thing he could count on quelling family drama.

As soon as he slips his phone into his pocket, he feels a tug on his jacket, and sees Ellie pointing to a play area.

Scooping her up and letting Heaven help lift her onto his shoulders, Rohan walks to the play area, still covered with layers of crunchy leaves from fall weather.

“Down!!!” Ellie demands, kicking the backs of her boots onto Rohan’s jacket.

“Okay! Hang on, hang on!”

As soon as her boots meet ground, she’s running around and screaming, carefully climbing to the top of the slide. “Papa!!! Catchme!!” Flinging herself down the slide, giggling the whole way down, Rohan runs to wait at the bottom, grabbing her up as she comes to the end, laughing and giving her tummy raspberries as she squeals.

“Again!!!!”

Rohan sets her down and she repeats the process, sliding into his arms and giggling as he swings her around. Staying in his arms this time, she puts both her tiny palms on Rohan’s face, squishing his cheeks and singing “totoooorooo totorooo.” Joining in, Rohan sings the theme from My Neighbor Totoro as they walk around, looking at all the play equipment, until they find the swingset.

Slipping into the seat safe for smaller kids, Ellie grabs onto the chains, watching carefully as Rohan starts to swing her. Keeping it at a slower speed so she doesn’t fall out, Rohan watches as she looks down and investigates the new experience. She’s never been on a swing set yet and has huge eyes, hanging on tight as she goes swinging midair.

“I thought I’d find you back here~~”

“Mama!!!!” Ellie yells, seeing Ari walk towards them with a grin.

“I got a text from my mom about the picture and woke up. Hearts let me know you were here.”

Rohan smiles apologetically. “I didn’t mean to wake you… Er, text your mom and have her wake you?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I got some rest, I feel better. Besides, I’d rather be here with you two.”

Pulling Rohan into a kiss, Ari grins, holding his jacket collars. “Daisuki.”

“Dai–”

The world changes. For an instant, the matter around them bends and warps, distorting and blending in colors and lights —the ground underneath them feels like melting ice, almost like it dissolves into nothingness.

Rohan’s instincts kick in —reaching out, his arm quickly wraps around Ari’s shoulders as his hand reaches forward for Ellie, bringing her close too.

As everything around them keeps changing and matter stops looking like itself, Kishibe holds onto his family, faintly hearing their breathings and hearts: like his senses have been momentarily enhanced, adding to the intensity of the moment.

In the blink of an eye it stops. Suddenly he’s back in the Giovanna’s yard, his wife and daughter held in his arms tightly as they look around startled, small pants and furrowed brows. Unable to let go yet, his eyes make quick work around them, trying to identify anything that might mean harm: the smallest, tiny, most insignificant thing that might put them in danger.

And when he’s unable to find anything but the security cameras and the swings and slides around them, he looks down, feeling his own sweat clinging to his forehead and the way he can almost hear the air blowing softly around them.

Questions fill his mind as silence comes in, settling down between them as he pulls Ellie from the swing and lowers her to the ground.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” A deep voice cuts in, startling all of them and making Ellie hide behind her dad’s legs, tiny hands holding onto his pants and big eyes full of fear.

By the glass door stands Don Giovanna, lips tightly pressed in a line and a coffee mug held in his hand, his expression one of strange calm, like he’s trying to keep it together for the sake of everyone. To know how he got there, or how long he had been there when Rohan looked around was the last of his worries.

Clearing his throat, Rohan slowly lets go of Ari, making sure to stay closer to her as he picks Ellie up, cradling her head close to his chest through trembling hands —words seem foreign, a mix of curses and senseless, interrogative pronouns circling in his head until his lips part but nothing comes out. Like he’s lost his ability to speak.

Ari’s hand finds his arm and he relaxes, turning to her: her lips part and for a second he’s afraid of being unable to hear her voice one more time before the sweet melody of her voice reaches his ears and his brain interprets it as sound and language:

“What’s going on?”

Giorno sighs, forgetting about his coffee for a second as he holds the cup by the lid, turns around and gestures to them back in. Following him in silence, the Kishibe’s come inside, hearing the door lock back again.

“Are you okay?” someone asks, and Rohan barely recognizes the voice as Lena’s. As he sits on the couch with Ellie in his lap playing with chimera-san, Ari reaches out for his hand, rubbing a gentle, soothing thumb over the back of his hand, replying after taking a big breath in. “I guess so?”

Coming to join them, Giorno sits by his wife’s side, setting his mug on the coffee table before him with a small ‘clink’ sound. Leaning his elbows on his thighs, he leans over, green eyes scanning the family before him with ease, almost like he’s looking for something specific: stopping on Rohan, he stands up, reaches out and taps the mangaka’s cheek with his palm until he blinks and frowns, leaning back with a scowl. “Stop that.”

Sitting down, Giorno chuckles, shoulders tense. “Now that you’re back with us, Kishibe. Let me explain.'' As his eyes take on a darker shade and his voice a serious tone, Rohan leans back, rubbing Ellie’s back, who’s suddenly too busy toying around with Ares, who purrs and stays by Rohan’s feet, looking at the infant.

Putting Ellie down to let her bond with the maine coon, Rohan and Ari look back at the couple before them, though their eyes and attention remain mostly on Giorno.

“Stands can modify time and space during their awakening phase, but you already know that, don’t you?”

Both nod, slowly, and after sharing a look, their attention lays back on Passione’s boss.

“Dr. Louis thinks that, since we’re both born stand users and one of us has had a requiem stand for years now,” he makes a pause to gesture at himself, “The boys have a higher predisposition to stronger stands. Which means the stand fever should be more aggressive.”

“Which makes the whole reality collapse worse.” Lena adds softly, a hand rubbing over her belly as the other toys nervously with her ring, eyes drifting between Rohan and Ariel while she and her husband await a response.

Rohan frowns, hands reaching up to fix his headband even though it remains perfect —taking it off, his hair falls over his eyes for a second, messy green locks slicked back with a shaking hand as he lets the fabric rest around his neck. “Let me get this straight,” he says, pulling the headband up to rest around his forehead like it usually does, then fixing his hair up and into its usual hairstyle, “You’re saying Dante and Jovi… Their stands, I mean, are messing with the whole of reality? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Of course it is.” Lena says, low and calm, despite the fear buried in her eyes. “But… We have someone who has reassured us it won't cause any real, permanent damage.”

“Han,” Ari speaks up now, much gentler and calmer. “If they know nothing will happen, then we just need to be extra careful.” she looks on through kind eyes, expecting them to say anything else, though it never comes.

Silence settles in. Unnerving, full of anxiety: Lena’s wandering eyes and Giorno’s dark eyes give off a strange aura, almost like there was something left unsolved between them. Not an argument, that was evident, but something…

Sighing, Rohan leans in, imitating Giorno’s position. “Alright, Giovanna, Speak up. You two are thinking, no; you’re worried about something.”

Chuckling, Giorno shakes his head, looking down at his shoes like they’re the most interesting thing out of nowhere: there he confesses, question shaped and broken hearted: afraid. “Does ‘soul extraction’ ring any bells?”

Quieting down, Rohan looks down at the coffee table, staring into the mug for a second —there he notes the mug is full, like they had just come here before the incident happened and Giorno decided to check on them— before he looks back, this time in Lena’s direction. “Wire requiem.”

Ari gasps now, eyes falling on the baby bump. “Wire AND Gold Experience requiem.”

Nodding, Lena speaks up now, raspy and slow, full of fear. “If what she said is true, which is most likely, then Esme…”

Giorno finishes her sentence through gritted teeth, voice raspy and full of something that he can't name nor drown out. “She will be in so much pain when the time comes.”

Rohan hums, trying to say anything that might soothe them. “But that means she’ll be extraordinarily strong, doesn’t it?”

Giorno looks back, tense: his tone one of defeat. “If I can’t stand seeing the twins like this then I don’t know how it will feel when she’s the one in bed.” His eyes soften, pained. “Seeing your kid in pain feels like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest without you being able to do something to help them, because this sh—” taking a deep breath, he tries to finish his sentence. “This thing, the stand fever… It’s up to their system to survive or not.”

A sob breaks through, and Giorno looks back to Lena, who’s now hiding her face with both of her shaking hands. Leaning back, he wraps his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer in an attempt to soothe her.

Looking up from her spot in the carpet by Ares' side, Ellie stands up and runs up to Lena's lap, where her small hands carefully lay and her big eyes look up to her with innocent worry. “Auntie Lena…” She holds up her toy, pushing it into Lena’s arms. “Here.”

Hugging onto Lena’s leg, Ellie lays her face on her Aunt’s thigh, holding on tight to comfort her. Lena looks down, eyes welling with tears at the little one’s kindness, petting her hair softly and holding the toy.

“S’okay to cry.” Ellie pats Lena’s leg once more and closes her eyes, laying there for another minute until everyone has calmed down.

“Why don’t we watch some Spy x Family and relax for a few minutes?” Rohan suggests, gesturing to the TV, trying to break the tension.

Lena nods, holding the toy back out to Ellie. “You’ll need this if we watch Miss Anya, right?”

Smiling, Ellie grabs the toy and takes Lena’s hand. “Come watch!!!” Tugging gently, she drags her Aunt to the couch, waiting for someone to put an episode on, kicking her legs over the edge of the couch and bouncing slightly.

“Is Anya your favorite?” Giorno asks, smiling over at Eliana and picking up the remote. She immediately lights up and nods over and over, giggling. “Anya!!! Anya!!!” She can say it better than the first time they watched together and Ari beams, remembering her “Ah-Ah.”

Leaning into Rohan and watching from the side, Ari tears up a little, whispering, “Rohan, she’s getting so big. When did she grow up so fast?”

He smiles and kisses Ari’s forehead, lingering there as the opening theme starts. “We’re lucky… So lucky… And she’s gonna be a stand user some day. But she’s strong. She’s already so curious and learning fast… I know she’ll make it through.”

Squeezing Ari’s hand, he pulls her close, watching as Ellie sits between Giorno and Lena, happily holding onto chimera-san and giggling as Loid puts on his bondman mask and competes to save “Princess Anya.” The room’s mood has completely changed, and while an air of uncertainty still lingers, the feeling is warmer now, worries forgotten for a few moments together.

As time flows, and a few episodes later, the tension in the room has dispersed completely, blending back into more logical thoughts and possible solutions, like Dr. Louis’ words about a way to slow down the awakening process, extra checkups and higher vitamins intake. Outside the weather pairs up, as the sun shines weakly between gray clouds and the wind toys and messes with the leaves of the trees in the yard.

The first to stand up is Giorno, who turns to Ari and Rohan with a small smile —one that shows just how grateful he is to have them around— and, laying his coat over Lena's sleeping form, the Don gestures upstairs, trying to say he's gonna check on the twins.

Walking around the couch, he pets Ellie's head, carefully not to hurt or distract her from the TV. Then, as he walks by Ari and Han, he leans over, whispering: “Giuseppe should be in the kitchen. Feel free to ask for anything.” Without waiting for a response, he keeps going, though a bit faster. Rushed.

Exchanging a puzzled look, Rohan mumbles out, “Do you think…?”

Looking back at the stairs, where Giorno's just disappeared, Ariel hums thoughtfully. “Dunno, maybe he just thought of something?”

Looking on, Rohan presses his lips together for a moment, focusing on the characters in the scene, “He seemed uncomfortable.”

Sighing, Ari imitates her husband without realizing, deep in thought for a second. “Whatever it is, I'm sure he'll talk about it later. There's a lot happening… He must be exhausted.”

“Right.”

***

Giorno's not sure how or why. But back there he could feel something —the arrow restlessly moving around like it did back when Wire Requiem awakened: paired up with that, the skin of his shoulder and scapula started to sting, the feeling reminiscent of that of a tattoo healing process.

But he's sure he doesn't have tattoos on his back. At least not for now.

Coming into their shared bedroom, his hands quickly reach back, grabbing the fabric at the back of his neck and pulling off his shirt, letting the fabric hang from one of the sleeves around his wrist, using a hand to hold the shirt close to his torso. Walking up to the bathroom, he stands before the mirror, taking a look at the tattoo on his chest. It looks fine —lines perfectly healed and the ink intact. Green eyes trail over his arm, skin clear and intact, too.

The itch comes back, stronger: it makes him turn sideways, peeking over his shoulder to take a look in the mirror.

His eyes land on the star-shaped birthmark between the top of his scapula and his shoulder. The color is the same, he notes, and as he runs a gentle fingertip over it, the sting becomes unbearable, makes him hiss through gritted teeth: despite that, he still touches again, making sure the texture hasn't changed, trying to see if there's something around it—tissue or rash—though nothing seems to have changed, except for the fact that it stings like hell.

Stopping to think for a second, his mind runs over the possible, momentarily, solution. Tapping it like he usually would do with an itchy tattoo is not an option: fabric doesn't exactly hurt. However, his skin feels hot, almost like it's upset.

Tapping on the faucet in the sink before him, his palm forms a cup, where he waits until a bit of water pools. Then, using his palm, he makes sure to tap gently in the zone, feeling the sting calm down for a bit until it disappears, leaving back the faint sensation of pain.

Should I tell Lena? She's gonna find out sooner or later… But lately she's been so sensitive. Maybe not. Maybe Rohan or Ariel could help, or… maybe Bocelli? He's a doctor, if anything he should be the first to know and let me know if there's something wrong with me. But right now doesn't feel like the right time. I want to see Dan and Jojo healthy again.

Sighing and reaching out, he makes quick work to dry his hand and wait until the few drops of water dry so he can put his shirt back on, and finally, leave towards the twins' bedroom.

Knocking on the door and coming in without expecting an answer, Giorno stands in the doorway, eyes overlooking the scenario before him.

Dr. Bocelli stands up from the desk, where he had been writing notes. “Son, we have great news.”

“Oh?” Eyes lighting up, he comes into the room, closing the door behind him. Once he's standing before the three doctors —Bocelli, Rebecca and Joshua— his hands entwine behind his back, waiting for them to speak up in a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Dr. Rebecca Louis takes a seat by Bocelli's side, a small and professional smile lifting the corners of her lips. “We're starting to notice improvement on the treatment. The fever is finally coming down.”

Before Giorno can reply, Dr. Joshua López speaks up, relaxed now that his dear friend is there with him (after being told the Don was not going to hurt him). “If we keep going like this then we think they should be conscious and alert by evening.”

Nodding, Gio takes a quick look at the clock in the wall behind the team of medical professionals: 2:21 PM.

Looking back, he makes eye contact with every single one of them, “Six hours, then?"

Dr. Bocelli replies now, calmer —his voice tired, barely hiding the relief behind his words. “It's only a supposition. See,” gesturing at the sleeping boys, the old man keeps going, “Their expression has softened and they're actually sleeping and resting now. When fever is that high, the body works only to protect itself, especially the brain. Now that we've managed to get a hold on it, they should be able to adapt after their cells have mutated and settled down.”

Sighing, Giorno's lips slowly but surely turn up into a smile, the green of his eyes softening to a teal shade and his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.”

Bocelli gestures vaguely, a grin spreading through his features. Warm, like a father would smile and comfort a pained son. “It's our duty, Giogio. Go tell your wife and friends, they must be so worried and exhausted.”

“I think I’ll call down and see if everyone can join us up here.”

Pulling out his phone, Giorno calls Rohan, inviting everyone up to the twins’ room for a status update. In a few minutes, everyone has gathered and Giorno repeats the same information told to him, while Ellie holds Ari’s hand and stares at the twins.

Walking towards them slowly, Ellie hops up onto the bed, crawling between Dante and Jovi and grabbing one hand from each of them. Leaning over, Ellie presses a gentle kiss to Jovi’s face, then Dante, and lays down, squeezing their hands. “S’ ok.”

Closing her eyes, Ellie rests quietly, still holding the twins’ hands and starts to fall asleep, comfortable between them.

The monitors that had been keeping track of the twins’ heart rate (which had been slightly elevated during the entire stand fever), finally even out and slow. Dr. Louis, who had been observing carefully, walks to the twins and feels their forehead, noting that their temperature has decreased even more.

In a whisper, she smiles up at Rohan and Ari and says, “We need to keep an eye on Ellie’s stand powers. I have a feeling she inherited a bit of both her parents’ skills.”

Lena raises an eyebrow, walking over as well. “She’s not…?”

“No.” Dr. Louis shakes her head. “Only early stages, but there’s faint traces of stand energy.”

Standing, she walks to the Kishibe’s. “Perhaps we can get a hold of a pendant for Eliana. We’ve been researching how to slow the stand awakening ever since my own daughter’s experience. There’s a special type of meteorite that seems to affect the body’s energy fields on the same wavelength as the stand virus. It’s not a permanent fix, but it would keep her from awakening too early.”

Rohan looks over at Ellie, sleeping next to the twins. “Please. We would be grateful.”

Ari speaks up next, “Our friend Sunnie at the Dallas SPW branch has a special interest in minerals and rocks. I’m sure she could help us find the right stone if you give us the information.”

“I’ll send it to you right now.”

Walking over to the desk, Dr. Louis boots up her laptop and searches her files before taking a screenshot and texting it to Ari’s cell phone. “There. Let me know what Sunnie finds.”

“Han, come with me?? Ellie will be safe up here with everyone watching her…”

Reluctantly, he leaves the room with her, going to join the call with Sunnie and Dio.

***

“Here.” Stopping before Giorno's studio, Akashi holds the door open. “The bosses gave me orders to stay in with you, if you don't mind.”

Shrugging, Rohan steps aside, letting Ari walk in first before he follows, taking a look around the studio: it's big and spacious, with the proper lighting and white walls barely noticeable due to the bookshelves all around. Taking a quick look, one can realize the books there go from history and economics to anatomy and philosophy. Almost like there's a bit of everything in there. The desk is clean, only a Justitia statue on the right.

Coming in last, Akashi hums, closing the door behind him. Hands inside his pockets, the swordsman sways from side to side as he walks, leaning beside the window on the left. “I take it you don't mind, then. Go on, I won't interrupt.”

“Thank you.” Sitting on the couch, Ari pulls her phone out, checking her connection and battery first as Rohan roams around, stopping once the manga collection comes into sight —a few Bleach volumes, followed by the Jujutsu Kaisen volumes up to the most recent… And there it was: Pink Dark Boy.

Reaching out, his fingers ghost over the first volume, nostalgia bringing back memories from those days when Pink Dark Boy was just starting to be a thing… Back when the idea of a family wasn't there yet, let alone a wife. Now his life had changed for the better and he couldn't be happier: if there was truly a benevolent god, then—

“Ah, yes.” Akashi's voice cuts through his inner monologue, making him snap from his daydream. “Don Giovanna's truly a fan of your work. Every time there's a new chapter he stops everything to read it and comments on it with the Donna.” Chuckling, the short pink-haired swordsman gestures around the manga collection Rohan's standing before. “They've been waiting for a fanbook, too.”

Opening his mouth to reply, Rohan stops and his smile stays there as Akashi keeps talking so fast he almost can't grasp everything he's saying;

“Which makes me think of that one anime movie that got lost in the 80's, ever heard of that? Man, it was so good, such a shame it didn't make it to the public!” hands on his hips, Akashi tilts his head aside, “I can't remember what it was called, but then again I've been through a lot of places and met a lot of people. That makes me think of the time I met Stan Lee and didn't even realize: so I was roaming through the streets, okay? Fresh out of a shower, and this man was waiting to cross the street—Wait, why don't you just read me, Kishibe-sensei?”

“Read you?” Frowning, Rohan takes a step forward, cautious. “How do you know about my stand?”

Akashi shrugs, his tone so natural it almost sounds like a weather forecast. “The Intelligence division makes us read a report before every mission: and if there are updates, we read about them too.”

Raising a finger, he stops Rohan from talking.

“No, Non, Nein: it's not me you should get mad at, that should be Fugo's fault. Actually, that should be Giovanna's fault, 'cause he's the boss and all that. Uhm, I think…” raising a finger to his lips, he taps against it twice, mumbling to himself. “I shouldn't have said that, if he finds out he's gonna kill me: but it's not like I'll stay dead so…” Letting his arms fall at each side of his body, Akashi finally shrugs, finishing his rant. “Yeah, man's crazy and I'm just doing my job… And I'm bored.”

Before Rohan can react or say anything else, Akashi's Cheshire cat smile disappears, replaced with pursed lips and dull eyes as his chin tilts up forward. “Your call's starting, Kishibe-sensei.”

“How…?”

Ari motions Rohan over, waiting as he pulls over the nearby ottoman and stares at the screen. Sunnie’s number is already in, the call ringing a few times before finally picking up, revealing a very pregnant Sunnie in the arms of her lover, Dio.

“Hi!!! Ari! Rohan-sensei!!!”

“Hello!” Ari waves, giving her a grin. “Sorry, did we wake you??”

Sunnie shook her head. “Nah, just lazy morning snuggles with D… Pretty sleepy this many months along with the kid.”

“Of course…” Ari smiles, watching them for a minute, then remembering the purpose of the call. “So we’re in Naples here with the Giovanna’s right now because the twins are going through the stand fever…”

Dio’s eyes go wide, staring intently at the screen. “Are they alright???”

Rohan leans over, nodding. “They will be. They’re doing much better than this morning.”

Reaching his arm back to rub over his Joestar birthmark, Dio winces, feeling the familiar sting that has been radiating off the mark since this morning. He hadn’t made any connection to the current situation until now.

“How… How is Giorno holding up?”

Ari seems surprised for a second, then purses her lips, holding Rohan’s hand tighter. “He’s doing his best. Trying to be strong for his family. But it’s… It’s hard for everyone, seeing the twins so sick.”

Dio nods, reaching for his wife’s hand as well. “I know it may not mean much yet, but. Please tell GioGio and Helena that we are thinking of them.”

Both Ari and Rohan nod, giving a small smile to the camera. “We will.”

Chuckling, Sunnie leans into Dio, closing her eyes as she holds the bump. “I assume this wasn’t just a social call? What’s up?”

Ari pulls up her phone, tapping into her and Sunnie’s messages. “I actually have something I need your help with. A rare mineral. I’m sending you the stats now.”

“Oooooh!!!” Sunnie bolts up at the mention of rocks and dives for her phone, eagerly poring over the image and documentation Ari had gotten from Dr. Louis.

“Whoa whoa whoa, it looks like cosmic honeycomb!!!” Sunnie shows the picture to Dio, then zooms in on the specifications. “Does this relate to the stand fever at all??”

Ari nods, closing her phone. “We need a pendant of some form for Eliana. Dr. Louis says that the structure and materials interact with the same wavelength as the stand virus. Because the stand virus comes from a rare meteorite, they’ve experimented with other meteorites’ influence on it. This particular one acts as a safety net, masking the stand user’s energy signature and slowing down the manifestation process.”

“That’s cool as fuck!!” Sunnie grins, setting her phone down on the bump and listening as Ari finishes.

“Yeah! It won’t stop the process completely, not that we’d want to, but it makes the stand awakening a bit easier. Dante and Jovi’s came on so suddenly that we didn’t have any warning. We don’t want that to happen to Ellie, if possible…”

“I’ll hunt around with some local collectors and see if they know where to get something like that. Imma text you when I know more… Anything else before we go?”

“Nah, that’s about it. You doing okay?”

Sunnie laughs, holding onto her stomach. “Yeah. I’m okay. This watermelon of a baby is wearing me out though, and we still have another month or more to go…”

“We’ve been there.” Ari smiles, wiggling her fingers at the screen. “Get lots of rest and snacks and fresh air.”

Dio points towards the table, puffing out his chest. “I always have snacks covered, you need not worry about that.”

“You do, D.” Sunnie pats his arm reassuringly, kissing his cheek. “I can always count on you.”

“Do you…” Ari hesitates, grabbing the edge of her sweater. “Do you think you two and Giorno will get to meet sometime soon? I know the SPW Dallas incident was too soon to meet, but… Getting it over with might calm some of the tension for both parties. I hate to see both of you so anxious whenever the other is mentioned…”

“When the time is right.” Dio nods, tapping a clawed-finger on his thigh. “Perhaps after the child has arrived, we can make plans.”

“I understand.” Ari bites her lip this time, reaching a pinkie finger out for Rohan to hold. “I can promise Don Giovanna and his wife are amazing. They’re some of our closest friends, and even though the Don seems intimidating, especially when his stand is so powerful, they’re unlike anyone else on the planet. I think you would be really proud of your alternate universe’s son.”

Choking back emotion, Dio nods solemnly, pressing a hand to Sunnie’s stomach. “I do not doubt that, but I would like to welcome my own progeny into the world first, then make amends with the son fate has given me. One step at a time.”

Rohan sighs, looking up at Akashi. “I think we have to go soon, but thank you for sharing your time with us. And Ari means no harm or prying, I know. We all would be grateful if the various Speedwagon Foundations can work together.”

“Do not worry.” Dio lets out a small fanged grin. “I have more experience dealing with human emotions than in the past. Sunnie has been letting me view a show called ‘Bluey,’ and I have found the family dynamics and discussions most helpful.”

Rohan chuckles, shaking his head. “We haven’t watched that one yet, do you think Ellie would like it?”

Sunnie’s face immediately fills the tablet screen, leaning in, excited. “SHE WOULD LOVE IT, YOU HAVE TO WATCH BLUEY!!!!!”

“I’ll add it to our list!” Ari smiles, waving at the screen. “We’ll talk again soon, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah!!! I’ll get on the pendant right away.”

“Thank you. We really appreciate your hard work.”

“Nah. It’s fun for me. I love this kinda stuff.” Sunnie wiggles on the couch, excited to get hunting.

“Still, thanks…” A moment of silence passes, and Ari laughs, leaning forward. “Okay, we should probably hang up.”

“Probably. Who’s gonna say goodbye?” Sunnie laughs too, used to the neurodivergent urge to keep talking and never end the conversation.

“You first.”

“No, you.”

“Oh, wait! I have a post I need to send you, hang on!!” Ari grabs for her phone, scrolling through her dashboard.

“Okay, well, send it in a minute, I’m hanging up!!”

“OKAY, BYE, I LOVE YOU!!” Ari grins as the screen blinks out, returning to the home screen. Petting her hair gently, Rohan leans over and plants a kiss on Ari’s forehead. She hums, standing and pulling him up next to her. “Glad to see they’re doing okay.”

He nods, slipping an arm around her waist then glancing over at their chaperone. “Akashi?”

The pink-haired man glances up, his hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“Can you go update the Giovanna’s with the conversation? Ari and I are going back to the room for a bit.”

“Do you need an escort?”

Rohan shakes his head no, pulling out Heaven’s Door. “I have backup in case of emergencies.”

“Right, of course. I’ll go now and make sure they know the gist of everything.”

Ari walks forward, clasping one hand over the other, addressing Akashi. “Don’t hesitate to let us know if Ellie wakes up and needs something. We don’t want her to be too scared, even though she knows everyone pretty well.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kishibe. We’ll let you know.” Giving a small bow, Akashi slips out of the room, communicating with Fugo on his way back to the Giovannas’ room.

Ari and Rohan, meanwhile, step into the hall, navigating the mansion maze until they find their way back. Slipping into their room, the couple lays on the bed together, staring up at the ceiling fan as the cool air washes over them and Ari shivers.

“Rohan... Where do we even start from today?”

Rolling over, Rohan quietly sits up and puts one leg over his wife, straddling her hips and laying down onto her chest, his face gently smooshed onto her breasts and talking with a slightly muffled voice.

“There’s a lot to untangle… The new stand powers and just. The unknowns. The future.”

Rohan closes his eyes, planting himself face first into her chest until he needs air, then tilting his head back out with a gasp. Ari chuckles, petting his hair quietly and whispering to him.

“I think it’s worse sitting with this anxiety. Knowing we’ll pretty much be powerless over the process.”

Nodding, Rohan finds Ari’s hand and laces his fingers between hers. “If we both fought through the stand virus, then we know we’ve given Eliana her best chance. Hopefully we’ve transferred some genetic ability to adapt to the stand mutation when the time comes. She may be sensitive, just like her parents, but she’s also strong.”

Rohan leans up, making eye contact with Ari. “Neither of us would be here right now with manifested stands if we didn’t have some fighting spirit.”

Smiling gently, Ari pushes Rohan’s headband up and kisses his forehead, wrapping her arms around him and sighing deeply. “We can help guide her and make sure she’s healthy, but we can’t manifest a stand for her. That’s part of her own story to write.”

Scooting up a little, Rohan puts a hand on either side of Ari, as her hands still drape around his neck. “It’ll all work out.” He leans down, pulling a soft kiss from her, then kissing across her face–one cheek, then the other, and over her nose and eyes, taking his time. “We have all the time in the world right now…”

Smiling up at her husband, Ari pulls him closer, finding his lips again and slipping a hand into the back of his hair, dragging her nails though his undercut, making him break the kiss and inhale sharply.

“Ari–” Rohan’s voice comes out in a warning whisper, frozen in the moment.

“Yes?~” She has a mischievous glint in her gaze, teasing and toying with him, even after their serious moment.

Rohan sighs, giving in easily. “Just try to keep quiet~”

***

He’s been alive for a long, long time. He’s been and seen too much, has felt too much pain, both emotional and physical: his whole existence has consisted of traveling around the world, bored and alone, seeking something to cure his loneliness and the strange, bone-chilling question that keeps plaguing his mind.

Akashi does not remember his full name at all. He isn’t sure if his last name is actually Akashi, or if it had been one random name he had picked along the way. For decades, he had been roaming the world, learning and watching, lost until that day he had finally had enough and decided to lay down in Rome’s streets, where Abel had met him.

Abel Agreste, Rome’s Capo, had reassured him his boredom could be solved by Don Giovanna and his Passione, and though that was true, there was still an ounce of the feeling remaining, like he had become addicted to boredom like one would turn sadness into a necessity.

To him, emotions and vulnerability did not come easily, both from his backstory in the war and the culture and period he was born in and now from his reputation: but even then, a few persons knew about his doubts and worries: one of them, perhaps the most compassive and pure man he had ever met before, had always been open to listen to him: Bocelli Enzo, the man who had killed his son’s assassins and had gave up on his medical ethics, turned Passione’s doctor and probably the boss’ most closest thing to a father.

Bocelli had said his brain was damaged, both from the constant fights —where he didn’t care about hurting himself— and the psychological trauma his stand kept causing with the constant death and coming back to life loop to the point of causing something he had called dissociative amnesia.

To him, his only hope was Kishibe Rohan: ever since he had read about his abilities on that report, his hopes of finally knowing his identity had resurrected, though it seemed nothing he said about his past experiences arised the mangaka’s curiosity.

Then again, the situation wasn’t the best backdrop for getting his wish fulfilled. Maybe someday he could ask for a favor…

Knocking on the door to the twins’ bedroom, Akashi clears his throat up as he twists the doorknob, standing awkwardly on the doorframe for a second.

“Akashi?” Giorno calls from his spot on the couch by Jojo’s bed, “What’s wrong?”

Blinking twice, his smile comes back and though he notices Giorno’s knowing look, he still plays along, “First off, just saw Dio Brando and for fucks sake, you’re a carbon copy of him, but like, with green eyes,” walking forward, he takes his hands out his pockets, gesturing around vaguely as he starts to explain. “So, it seems like little Ellie will get a nice pendant to keep the stand fever controlled, or that’s what I understood from all that: keywords are meteorite and pendant. And again, boss,” taking a seat by Lena’s side, Akashi finishes with a: “You and Dio Brando look almost the same. But like, your sons look like you so that must be a family thing. Oh, and he sent his well wishes for the twins’ recovery.”

Nodding, Giorno brushes off the comments about his father, not knowing exactly how to reply or feel about them and, as he looks at the twins, his frown softens and he replies. “Got it, thank you.”

Taken aback by his response, Akashi slowly looks back at Lena, eyebrow arched and mouth agape.

“Be patient with him, ‘Kashi.” Lena whispers, leaning a bit to meet him. “That’s not something he can talk about yet.”

Nodding, Akashi brings his right hand up, imitating a zipper over his mouth as he closes it, leaning back into the couch.

Silence settles in, strange: the calm it brings feels unsettling, but still, the brief moment doesn’t last long before Giorno speaks up, soft and calm:

“We should probably get one for Esmeralda too, Lena.”

Rubbing at the bump, Lena nods, feeling a foot meet her touch —a warm smile spreads through her features, much calmer and at ease than before. “Agreed. We’ll talk about that once she’s born.”

“Well, my hunger was born first,” Standing up, Akashi swiftly cuts off the conversation, “I'm gonna go and ask Giuseppe for something, maybe some paella.” turning around and extending a hand out to Lena, he asks, “Want something, boss?”

Chuckling, Giorno gestures forward when Lena looks at him, his words warm and calm. “Go on, honey, you need to eat.”

Taking Akashi’s hand to stand up, Lena grins, returning the gesture. “I’ll go, but after I’m done you’ll have something too.”

“Okay, deal. Akashi, take care of her.”

Guiding her to the door, Akashi nods, “Yeah, yeah, I will!”

***

Coming into the kitchen, a high-pitched voice with a bit of an accent welcomes Akashi and Lena. “Good afternoon! How can I help you?”

Giuseppe De Niro, the occasional chef for the Giovanna family, a middle aged man with big brown eyes and dark hair kept up into a hair net grins from the other side of the kitchen as he covers a bowl with cling film, hands in his hips and a patient look as he waits.

“Giuseppe, Giuseppe, oh Giuseppe~” faking a pout, Akashi comes closer, retrieving a chair from the bar and holding a hand out for Lena to sit down. Then, as she makes herself comfortable and he's sitting before the chef, his hands rub at his stomach. “I really want some paella, think you can do it?”

“Of course,” nodding, Giuseppe turns to Lena, a much gentler look thrown her way. “What about you, Donna? Is there something you're craving specifically or…?”

“Mhm,” leaning her chin on the palm of her hand, she tilts her head aside, thinking for a second: “I'll have the same.”

“Sure. It should be ready in twenty, if that's okay?”

“No worries,” gesturing with her free hand, Lena gives him a warm smile, watching him turn around and start working. By her side Akashi has quietened, eyes glued to the granite bar.

Passing an arm behind him, her palm rubs at his back in circles, whispering; “What is it?”

“Uh?” Looking back, his pink orbs drift between her eyes frantically before his shoulders slump down and he sighs heavily, smacking his head against the countertop, voice muffled when he speaks up. “I wanted to ask, I really did, but… I don't think this is the right time.”

Rubbing at his back again, she looks forward, watching Giuseppe work for a while. Her lips part, and by the time she looks back, Akashi's already sitting straight with the skin of his forehead red and his eyes wide open, like a wild cat.

“Akashi,” she starts, “Wire can read the memories of your soul, but only when you've passed away, which is something you can't do… But, uhm, what I'm trying to say is I would help if I could. But I can't.”

Sighing, Akashi rubs at his eyes. “I know, that's why Kishibe's the only option. But in this situation, with reality collapsing and all that, it's dangerous to try. Even I know that.”

Looking forward and accepting the glass of water Giuseppe offers to each of them, Lena replies. “But this won't be the last time you'll see him. Besides, your problem was caused by your stand: the Foundation would gladly help. I'm sure I can make a request for the Morioh branch.”

Setting his empty glass down, Akashi looks back with eyes full of hope and his usual smile back: “Okay, but promise I won't be an experiment like that time when—”

“Yep.” she cuts him off, gesturing for him to stop, “That's not happening again.”

“Eureka!” throwing his arms up, Akashi grins, pointing at Giuseppe, who's just turning around to set both dishes before them. “Giuseppe, celebrate with me!”

“Uhm,” imitating him, Giuseppe mirrors his words and movements, though much less enthusiastic, since he didn't understand the context. “Eureka?”

“Yeah!” taking a napkin and turning to Lena, Akashi nods twice, excited. “Thank you, boss! And Giuseppe,” turning to him, he bows, taking the first bite of his food and talking with his mouth full. “This better be good.”

Laughing, Giuseppe nods, turning back to start with another recipe, “I can assure you it will. Anything else I can do?”

“Yeah,” Lena replies now, “Could you send some food to Fugo and the rest?”

“Sure!” turning to her again, Giuseppe leans on the bar, setting his chin on his hand. “Any special menu?”

Humming, she toys with the fork in her hand, “Lasagna and gelato? Everyone's working hard so… They deserve it.”

Nodding, Giuseppe takes a pen and a small notebook from his apron, quickly writing down. Then, he looks back, eyebrows arched. “What about the Don?”

Cheeks warming up, she lights up considerably at the mention of her husband. “He'll come after we're done, he's with the boys.”

“Is that so?” leaning back and leaving the notebook aside, Giuseppe twirls the pen with the fingers of his right hand, “I'm looking at him right now, though.”

Immediately looking back and finding Giorno under the doorway, Akashi gasps and gulps down, hitting his chest so the feeling of food restricting his airway goes away —hand reaching out to Lena, then pointing at Giorno dramatically.

Turning around, she gasps, cheeks turning a deep shade of red as he walks into the kitchen and looking at Giuseppe, he says: “I'll have spaghetti alla carbonara,” then, as he comes closer, his hand cups her face, thumb rubbing over her cheek before he sits down by her side, draping an arm around her shoulders.

“Who's with the kids?” she asks, setting her fork down.

Accepting the glass of water that Giuseppe sets before him, Gio takes a small sip. “The medical team and Vivianne. Ellie's still asleep and the twins' heart rate has come back to normal.”

Sighing relieved, Lena nods, finally calm enough to start eating. By her side Akashi leans over the bar, looking at Giorno.

“So, Giogio. I know I said it before, but Brando really seemed… Interested, worried, or just… With the intention to be present in your life, when Mrs. Kishibe mentioned the boys' fever. I think he means well.”

Eyes softening and shoulders relaxing, Giorno meets Akashi's eyes. “I know. But, as much as I want to meet him… It seems like the time will not come soon.”

Shaking his head, the pink-haired swordsman presses his lips into a fine line and when he speaks up, his voice has a certain nostalgic tone, “The time will come when it has to. Don't rush it. Just wanted to let you know that this Dio… Is much different than the one described in reports and anecdotes.”

Giorno's mind drifts to Jotaro Kujo —the troubled and uncomfortable relationship with him, tense and always weird. He could only wonder if he knew about the Dallas Board from the start. No, he could wonder if they got along or if they were still trying to fight. But again, it looked like there was someone keeping him from doing all the things Prime Dio would.

And that was probably Sunnie.

“Earth calling Giorno, earth calling Giorno!”

Blinking, he looks on, eyes landing on both Akashi and Lena's worried looks as the swordsman sways his arm from side to side, grinning when he finally seems conscious.

“Your food's ready, boss! Eat before you pass out, I'll go back to Abel.” standing from his chair, Akashi bows in Giuseppe's direction as he leaves, hand resting atop his katana handle.

“Thank you, 'Kashi!” Lena shouts, watching him go. Turning to her husband, she chuckles, noticing the sauce left on the corner of his lips. Taking a napkin, she wipes his lips carefully while he chuckles, letting her help.

“I got you, baby.”

Food goes by between sweet conversations and bright smiles. Soon, both go back to the twins' room, making sure everyone's eating.

As they sit down, Giorno's eyes drift to the clock in the wall: 6:16 PM. Hopeful, he looks on, knowing the wait is almost over.

A faint whimper makes him look back, eyes immediately noticing Eliana rolling to the side and slowly, her small aqua green eyes open up, finding the world before her.

Brushing her hand across his arm, Lena stands up before he can, approaching Ellie with a warm smile and slow steps, “Hey, baby. Are you hungry?”

Sitting up, Ellie looks around her and, unable to find her parents, her eyes fill with tears and she whimpers, looking back at her aunt her voice comes out tiny and heavy with sleep. “Mama? Papa?”

“Hey, 's okay.” Sitting down on the bed, Lena reaches out for Ellie, helping her sit with her. “They're here.” a gentle hand combs through her hair, trying to make it look somehow better and letting Ellie grasp her hand.

“Where?” the little girl asks, looking around the room frantically, still coming out of her sleepy state and disoriented. As someone stands up from one of the couches, Ellie looks at them intently until he comes near and his face seems familiar.

“Hey,” Westwood whispers, kneeling before her. “I heard there's a princess waiting to be taken back to her castle?”

Ellie looks back, finally recognizing Lena and the rest of the team, tears still there, though her fears long forgotten. “Auntie!”

“Yeah!” Grinning, Lena turns to West, then back at Ellie, “He's here to take you to mama and papa! Like a knight!”

Intrigued, Ellie scoots off the bed and hops down, slowly approaching West. “Knight?”

Following along, Westwood takes his mask off, bowing down with an exaggerated gesture of his hand. “Princess Kishibe, if I may take you to King Kishibe's castle?”

Ellie finally plays along, jumping excitedly and bowing too. Westwood stands up, offering his hand to her, and exchanges one last look with Giorno and Lena, making sure to shield Ellie with his stand, then guide her out of the room.

“Princess Kishibe, the road ahead holds multiple dangers, may I carry you there?”

“Mhm! Up!" Extending her arms out, chimera-san still in tow, Westwood's chest swells with happiness as he takes her into his arms, fixing her hair and outfit the best he can and, as he walks down the hall, he makes sure to wipe her tears and improve her mood to the best.

Stopping before the Kishibe’s door, he knocks twice, feeling his face warm up as soon as Rohan swings the door open, headband around his neck and hair disheveled.

“Ellie!” he says, surprised. Reaching out, Ellie quickly reaches back to him, leaning forward and jumping into her father’s arms.

“King Kishibe,” Westwood starts, ignoring Rohan's confused look, “Now that I've brought the princess back, I'll keep working.” Turning around, he almost runs back, hearing Ellie's laughter.

Closing the door behind him, Rohan grins, setting her down. “Well then, princess? The queen must be waiting for you.”

Already sitting up in bed, Ari reaches out, helping Ellie climb up onto the covers. “Princess, huh?~”

“Yes!! Knight helped!”

“Well then,” joining them, Rohan shares a knowing look with Ari, “We should make sure to properly thank him later.”

8:18 PM. Giovanna household.

“This is not a drill, everyone who has an earpiece must take it off and turn the volume up in ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight.—” The sudden message startles those with an earpiece: la unità and la squadra’s members freeze in their spots, doing as told right after: there, Fugo’s voice comes up after the robotical voice from before, his tone neutral despite the scary message.

“We’re experiencing an unknown threat.” He stops, as if trying to find a logical explanation to his words. “Time has stopped. Please seek immediate shelter. The Kishibe’s must be protected. All Capos close to the twins’ room must arrive and follow Don Giovanna’s instructions. Do not leave the property before we know what’s happening.”

The message ends there, leaving behind confused looks and pursed lips: trembling hands and fear creeping up spines and nervous systems.

“How does he even know?” Paolo mumbles, standing up from the grass in the yard, “If time really stops then we wouldn’t even be able to do anything. Hell,” taking his mask from his pocket, the scientist toys with the fabric, “Motion wouldn’t even be possible.” putting it on, he fixes the fabric around his mouth and nose until he’s sure it’s perfect. “But it’s not like stands care that much about physics.”

Coming into the mansion, the first thing Paolo sees is pure chaos —Vivianne and the other members of la unita rushing upstairs, Fugo coming out of his office with his laptop, Abel and Akashi preparing their weapons in the corner and last, Vittorio at the top of the stairs, hands behind his back.

The latter, as soon as he notices Paolo, points to his right. “Paolo, with the Kishibes. Someone will join you soon. You know our orders, right?”

Jogging upstairs (having to take it slower or straight out stop to prevent accidents) Paolo finally reaches Vittorio's side, stopping only to reply in a whisper. “No one can ignore the magnitude of this event, Vittorio. It's bizarre.”

Watching him turn down the hall, Vittorio looks forward, mumbling to himself. “That's the perfect word to describe the situation.” Giving one last look to his team and husband, he leaves to take his position outside of Giorno’s studio.

Soon, some of the members from la unità and la squadra stand around the twins' room, some around the mansion and others in the halls —Fugo has moved to Giorno's studio, Abel and Akashi stand by the main doors, katana and gun in hand ready to attack, defend… Or die.

In the room, nothing has changed, the medical team running around the room performing tests and monitoring the boys as their vitals even out to normal. By the toddlers' sides, both their parents sit, waiting and hoping.

Someone speaks up and the sound only has a few of them turning, anxious:

“Donna, shouldn't we keep you company somewhere else? What if…” Rubbing his hands together, Pietro looks down at them, staring at his wedding ring. “If something happens and we have to fight… Then we should prioritize you, because I suppose you shouldn't fight in your—”

“Mommy?”

Giorno's look makes everyone quiet down as the tension grows and the mystery remains unsolved. Still, Lena looks back at Jovi, melting at the sight of his grabby hands and reaching out to help him stand up, her eyes follow every movement as the boy holds onto her shoulders —soft pink cheeks and sleepy green eyes, hair (that had lost its curls months before, remaining as wavy strands now) disheveled and skin finally back to its fair tone.

“What's wrong, baby?” Mumbling her question, Lena keeps her hand on Jovi's back, watching through calm and loving eyes as the toddler fiddles with one of her curls, shy and tired still, seeming to struggle to find the proper words.

The boy looks back, letting go of her hair and instead, he blinks slowly, mumbling his question: “Cuddles, mommy?”

With a hum, Lena makes him turn sideways and sit on her lap, wrapping an arm around his back and using the other to keep his IV attached to the back of his hand, passing the IV tubing above her shoulder. Cradling his head close to her chest, she starts humming a tone, slowly rocking back and forth, feeling his tiny hands hold on the fabric of her dress.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead and using the momentum to look around the room, Lena nods in Giorno's direction. His tense shoulders relax and he stands up slowly, hands shaking but still he walks up closer, sitting before his wife and younger son. His left hand reaches out and his fingers run through his hair. The boy sighs deeply, the kind of sigh that shows just how comfortable and warm he is –safe in his mother's arms with his father watching over him and his brother.

Sighing, Gio stands up, turning to Dante and, taking him in his arms, he makes sure to cradle his head close to his chest —a habit both had ever since the first time he held them. Almost like they always sought his heart in order to sleep peacefully. As Bocelli makes sure the IV remains in its place, Dante stirs awake, blinking up at Giorno and, through his exhaustion, he smiles.

The action makes Giorno chuckle, caressing the toddler’s cheek with the back of his hand, “Hey, buddy. Missed you too.”

Dante hums, hand unconsciously grabbing into Giorno’s coat: voice tiny and sleepy eyes, he asks: “Daddy?”

“Hmm?” Sitting besides Lena, Gio exchanges a quick look with her, then looks back at Dante, who’s observing his twin intently, as if trying to make him look back.

Dante looks back into Giorno’s eyes, his own full of hope and innocence, the kind only a child could ever show and then he asks: “Piano man?”

Jovi stirs awake too, almost as if he hadn’t been asleep and blinking to try and get the tiredness off his eyes, he still tries to join the conversation, eyes lighting up upon the mention of the song that has become his and Dante’s favorite ever since they heard it on his father’s office while Giorno was signing a few documents.

Surprised, it takes a moment for Giorno to react —looking back at Lena, she’s still looking between them, worried and scared, maybe thinking the worst, the possibilities of any kind of brain damage during the long episode of fever seem to come to her mind. Still, he retrieves his phone from his pocket, finally catching her attention. There, and even if his hands shake and everyone’s looking at them, he opens the app music. Scrolling through his library, his mouth runs dry and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. Every now and then, the boys look around the room, slowly waking up and recognizing those around them.

Sighing, the realization that he could just browse through artist, album or song title strikes him and, feeling his cheeks burn, he taps on the search bar icon atop the app menu, typing the first letters of the song title until it pops up, displaying song name, album, artist and year.

Piano Man. Piano Man. Billy Joel. 1973.

Taking a deep breath, he taps on it and soon, the first piano notes start, followed by a soft harmonica that seems to reply to the piano, syncing into a peaceful and melancholic melody. The boys sway from side to side, warm smiles and tired eyes closing for a bit as the song starts and Billy starts to sing.

Looking up, Giorno smiles, finding Lena’s eyes filled with tears and grinning as the twins relax in their arms, not quite understanding the depressing undertone behind the song, that was probably inspired by Billy Joel’s attempt to get out of a bad record deal —not realizing the people mentioned there are all real people he played for as the piano man, whom everyone relied on to get over their daily life sadness and problems.

Dante leans forward and Giorno uses his arm to prevent him from falling, allowing him to lean closer to his twin. Reaching out, Dante finally touches Jovi’s arm, catching his attention. Jovi, conscious, smiles back at his twin, holding his hand like they’ve always done.

Right as their hands meet the room spins, lights flicker and then it stops.

There, everything happens in a flash: the twins' hands slowly pull apart until there's a space in between them. In the middle of that space, green, blue and golden sparks spin around an invisible core, slowly absorbing into it and forming a small black mass —slowly, the mass starts to shift, becoming much larger and white, displaying a black dot at the top that slowly grows and takes its own shape. By the time it stops growing, the shape remains as a rectangular, long piece of wood with one single black line in the middle. Though there’s no mechanism, the object still clicks and then it’s back between the boys’ hands, held by them and connecting them, too.

Giorno blinks confused, unable to name the recent event, move or even think.

Frowning, and still as shocked as her husband, Lena takes the object from them, making sure they’re still listening to the song, detached from the object that has just… Materialized.

“A piano key?” turning it around, she frowns, then looks back at Giorno, giving it to him.

Inspecting it closer, Giorno hums, finally out of shock. Slowly lowering his hand, he ponders his words for a second, finding it impossible to keep holding his supposition for longer. “I think… This might be their stands. Remember the prophecy?”

She frowns, the prophecy coming to her mind right there: almost like she had learned it word by word, until there's something that does not match the situation: looking into her husband's eyes, she frowns, lips parting until Fugo speaks up through Pietro’s earpiece:

“Time has resumed. I repeat, time has resumed. It's ten o'clock. Everyone please get back to your previous positions until the twins—”

Reaching out, Giorno takes the earpiece from Pietro and taps on the side of the small device: the action activates the mic and Giorno replies, out of breath even if he’s sitting. “Fugo, I want Paolo here. Now. The time thing was related to their stands.”

“What?”

Giorno’s jaw tenses and he mumbles his answer through gritted teeth, “Aren’t you looking at the cameras?” He takes a quick look at the twins, watching them still enjoying the last part of the song then at Lena, who’s turned paler and hasn’t stopped looking at him: like she's terrified.

Walking up to them, Bocelli reaches out for Jovi, noticing Lena’s expression. “Donna,” he says, taking the boy from her. “We need to make sure they’re okay. It seems they’re completely out of danger, but still, we need to run some more tests.”

“Ah, yeah. Sure.” Standing up, she still gives Jovi a smile while Bocelli sets him down. Imitating her, Giorno stands and turns around, letting Dr. Louis take Dante in her arms and set him down beside his twin. Soon, both professionals start a quick physical examination as the conversation between Fugo and Giorno still goes on.

“Giorno,” Fugo says, “The cameras stopped working when time stopped. I was trying to monitor you through your earpieces. I didn’t see anything.”

Clenching his jaw, Giorno tenses, then sighs heavily. “Got it. Then, come here and bring Paolo with you… But make sure the Kishibes are okay.”

“Sure.” The communication ends and Giorno sighs, returning the earpiece to Pietro, who stands there awkwardly for a moment, then puts it on and walks out, Vivianne and the others behind him, rushing back to their previous positions despite the plethora of questions and longing looks thrown their kids’ way.

Closing his laptop, Fugo stands up from the desk, walking in big strides to the door and next down the hall in the Kishibe’s room direction —he’s sure he almost (if not) damaged the hinges from the sheer strength he used to open the door: his confidence drops for a second as he makes eye contact with Paolo and the Kishibe family, mouth agape for a second.

“Kishibe-sensei, is everything okay over here?”

Rohan’s frown does not go unnoticed, nor does his curiosity and worry when he asks back. “Is everything okay over there?”

Sighing, Paolo turns, patting Rohan’s back and pulling back as soon as Rohan steps aside to avoid his touch. “Rohan-sensei,” the scientist starts, walking over to the door in short steps, hands behind his back, entwined, “Don Giovanna will let you know soon. As you can probably sense, things might be back to normal, but I’m positive this hasn’t ended.”

Stopping by the doorway by Fugo’s side, Paolo turns around, facing the family. “Please stay here, it’s just logical to stay safe after the magnitude of the event we just witnessed.”

Closing the door, Paolo turns to Fugo, as if knowing what’s going on —though it was just his guessing. Fugo nods, leading the way: “When time resumed, it looks like something happened with the twins’ stands.”

“Oh?” Paolo lights up, his attention completely on Fugo now. “What happened?”

Stopping before the door, Fugo’s hand stops as soon as he takes the doorknob, turning to Paolo with stern eyes. “That’s exactly what we don’t know.”

***

The room’s calm, with the medical team still observing Dante and Jovi, who are now sitting on the carpet surrounded by their favorite toys and their cat. By the left, sitting before them and watching over them, their parents —while Lena’s eyes seem lost somewhere along her sons, Giorno remains standing, arms crossed and lips pressed tight.

“So,” Coming into the room, Paolo stands beside Giorno, arms behind his back and a playful sway to his body as he speaks up. “What happened, boss?”

Giorno barely looks back as he shows the piano key, holding it between two fingers. “This happened.”

Eyes drifting between the key and his boss, Paolo grins; “I’m afraid I’m not talented enough to play piano, boss. That should be Fugo, he played in a bar for some month—”

“Paolo,” Lena calls, voice soft but still stern. “That… That thing came from them.”

“Oh?” taking the piano key from Giorno, Paolo turns it around, examining it cautiously: “What exactly do you mean, Donna? By ‘came from them’ we could think of many things. In order to give you a hypothesis, I need to know everything.”

Lena sighs, reminiscing the event: “Jovi woke up first and asked for cuddles. Then, Gio took Dante with him: he was more, uh, responsive? Active?” her hands toy with the fabric of her dress, trying to find the proper words to describe the situation, “I don't know, he just asked for their favorite song and Jovi immediately woke up. Then Gio started playing it. Dante … He reached out to Jovi and when they held hands something happened.”

“Oh? You say Dante reached out to Jovi?”

“Yeah.”

Paolo chuckles, amused, a knowing look hidden behind calm eyes —and as he speaks, his laughter only grows: “Chrono, Chrono, Chrono!” he laughs fully and carelessly, voice dropping a few octaves: tone accusing. “Prophets…”

“Yeah…” Giorno nods, still looking at the boys. “What we need to know is if we're right.”

“It depends,” Paolo says, “What's your theory, Giogio?”

Finally looking back, Giorno's chin points at Lena. “It's hers —she thinks Chrono lied.”

“Well,” the scientist crosses his arms above his chest, toying with the piano key before him. “Let's see, why a piano key, of all the things? Is there something you are not remembering? Everything has a reason.”

Both fall silent, and while they're still looking on deep in thought Paolo hums to himself, sitting with the boys. “Don't worry, I have plenty of time.”

Lena's the first to talk, slowly turning to look at him. “It's a piano key, because their favorite song features a piano. Now, I don't think that's what we should be thinking about. Remember the prophecy?”

Paolo hums, leaning his elbow on his thigh and his chin on his closed hand, eyes drifting between Passione’s bosses. “I understand you might be worried and confused. But it is important, at least for me: everything has a reason when it comes to these things. It’s science. Now,” looking back at Jovi, then at Dante, he starts explaining his hypothesis.

“I think the song acted as a trigger —have they ever seen a piano before?”

Fugo speaks for the first time since he got there, voice calm but still holding an ounce of anxiety behind. “I’ve played for them. So, yeah.”

“Good,” Paolo nods, “Then, that means they’ve seen and are familiar with piano keys. They might not know how they work or the material they are made of but one thing is for sure: they know that’s a piano key and that’s the thing that can play their favorite song.” Looking up, he meets Lena’s eyes, then Giorno’s: “Now let’s take a quick look at the prophecy, hm? I’m pretty sure both of you learned it by heart just so you could be sure everything happened like Chrono said.”

The couple nods, and he gestures at them to go on.

Giorno takes a deep breath: “Reborn and Rebuilt. Reborn for Dante and Rebuilt for Jovi.”

Paolo nods, raising a finger to interject with a question. “Who touched who and happens to be the one that creates matter?”

This time, Lena replies, voice tiny. “Dante’s Reborn.”

Paolo hums, “Then that means Dante was the first to react, and Jovi’s Rebuilt just responded to its counterpart —which means…”

Giorno sighs, sitting on the couch beside Fugo. “Chrono said both stands would awaken in October or November, but wouldn’t be active until they turned seven.”

Silent, Paolo nods, fully knowing what this means —the rage of those two. Cold, scary and explosive, held back by stern eyes and calm faces.

The thing that comes, however, is something completely different: while Giorno’s still looking down at the floor Lena speaks up, softly: “Thank you, Paolo, Fugo.”

Fugo stands up, as if knowing he’s dismissed without having to be told: Paolo follows and as they leave, Dr. Bocelli’s words react their ears:

“They’re out of danger, boss.”

As the door closes and the medical team leaves for a break before packing everything, the family in the room remains in silence as the twins drift back t o sleep, tired but no longer ill; safe and healthy.

“Helena.” Giorno mumbles, reaching out for her hand as he sits by her side, his eyes clouded by the strands of wild hair that fall on his eyes and the shadow that forms due to the low lighting in the room. “Are we on the same page?”

It takes a moment for her to reply, but when she does he’s sure he’s never seen her so angry yet so calm and collected —like she’s holding it all in for later, when the time comes to unleash. “We are, babe. I think we should ask Ari and Rohan to watch over them for a bit.”

“Hm?”

Lena looks back at him, brown eyes darkened and lips in a straight line: though her brow remains relaxed, the tension in her voice is enough for him to know her true feelings, the turmoil of negative emotions she’s holding in. “We’re paying a visit to our favorite prophet.”

The smile that curls his lips up screams danger —the kind of smile only his enemies have seen: wicked and horrifying. “Oh, I’d love that.”

***

“I’m serious, Don Giovanna!” standing in the living room with his phone clutched in his hand and a deep blush across his cheeks, Dr. Joshua López plants himself before the much taller mafia boss, “I can’t accept this! It’s too much!”

Giorno looks back —and down— at the man, a much calmer expression now that he and his wife have talked and planned out their next move, and giving a small smile to the man before him, his hand comes up to rest on Dr. López’ shoulder. “It’s never enough when it comes to my family’s well being.” Looking up and in Dr. Louis’ direction, he makes sure to look her in the eye as he finishes with a: “We will be forever grateful with you. If you ever need something, I’m positive we can help.”

Dr. Bocelli speaks up from the couch, his cane between his legs and a cup of tea in his hands. “Please accept the money, Joshua, Rebecca: they're really grateful for your help: for traveling all the way here to see the boys. Right, son?”

Giorno chuckles, dropping his hands at each side of his body and shrugging, he nods: “He’s right. That’s the least we can do, but I’m serious —if you have a problem, we can help.”

Walking over, Dr. Louis sets her hand on Dr. López’ shoulder, a reassuring tone to her voice as she speaks to her friend. “Just take it, Josh.”

“Agh,” sighing, Joshua nods, looking at Giorno in the eye, then at Lena —who has been sitting by Bocelli’s side— and hums. “Thank you, it was a pleasure to work with you.”

This time Lena replies, “Of course, Dr. López. Please let Director Arroyo I’m forever grateful for his help.”

“Of course, Donna.” Bowing one last time, Dr. Louis and Dr. López leave the mansion with Vittorio and Abel behind to escort them all the way to the airport: there, another group of Passione’s soldatos would keep track of them until both arrive at their homes.

As the door closes behind Abel’s back and Akashi stands aside, Paolo walks downstairs with Rohan. The latter seems tense, maybe angry as he comes to stand before Giorno with both hands tightly curled into fists and his jaw in a straight angle.

“Mind telling me what’s going on, Giovanna?”

His question doesn't bring anything new to Giorno —sighing, the Don turns around and walks back to his wife’s side, sitting down in the couch armrest. Gesturing upstairs, he says: “Bring your wife and daughter, then. Ari needs to hear this, too.”

Ari speaks from the upstairs, carefully walking down: the absence of Ellie has Rohan frowning before she explains, “Ellie fell asleep for the night. I have the monitor with me.”

Reaching the living room and walking up to the couch, Ari’s hand finds Rohan's, gently coaxing him to sit down and listen to whatever Giorno and Helena have to say.

Crossing his arms under his chest, Giorno sighs: “Well, I guess Paolo should start with the theory.”

Clapping and standing before both couples, Paolo grins: almost like the words about to be pronounced don’t mean too much. “Turns out little Giorno number one and Giorno number two have, uh, really fucking strong and dangerous stands! I’m sure you two heard time stopped, right?”

Rohan nods, slowly, and Ariel hums.

Paolo keeps going, “So. Time stopped because while we were trying to figure out what the hell was happening, Reborn and Rebuilt were ready and functional. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Quit it,” Giorno shots back, “Just say it.”

“Right,” looking back at the Kishibes, Paolo blurts out: “Chrono lied with the prophecy. Dante and Jovi’s stands are exactly what it said, but… It never said they would be active since the awakening and active phase. We were told they would use them once they got a little bit older.”

Before anyone can say anything else, Giorno stands up, retrieving the piano key from the pocket of his jeans. “This is what they made. As you can see, it’s a nonfunctional piano key —they know this little thing can play their favorite song. To me,” he sets the piano key on the coffee table before Rohan and Ari, standing before them. “It means the more knowledge they have, the better their creations will be. Knowledge and experience will directly mean they will be dangerous… The thing is they’re still kids, barely starting to live. This is not something we considered before.”

The prophecy shared with them months ago comes to mind and, as Rohan looks down at the piano key and reluctantly reaches out to it, Ari looks back. “Do you mean Chrono was right with the matter creation thing?”

Giorno nods, lips pressed in a tight line. “Yes.”

Rohan sighs and speaks up now. “If Chrono lied… And you didn’t expect this, you must be angry.”

A dark chuckle leaves Giorno’s throat, rumbling through his chest and making Rohan look back through big eyes and tense shoulders: by his side Ari reaches out for his hand, unconsciously gripping at it.

“You have no idea,” he says, leaning back and passing a hand through his hair, then goes back to his previous posture, expression back to normal. “We’re planning a visit tomorrow.”

“So we were wondering if you could stay and watch over Dan and Jojo while we’re gone.” Lena speaks now from her spot on the couch, taking the cup of tea Akashi offers. “We understand you’re still tired from the flight and a lot of weird stuff happened today, but we’d leave in the afternoon. Just so we can rest, you know.”

Ari nods, still holding onto Rohan’s hand. “I know Dan and JoJo are still resting a lot, but we’ll make sure to keep them company. Is there any worry about them using their stands now that they’re active? Should Rohan use Heaven’s Door to temporarily disable their stands until we know more?”

Glancing down at Ari, Rohan raises an eyebrow. “Is that something that’s on the table?” He looks over at the Don and Donna next, waiting for a response.

The weight and weariness of the past few days is evident on the couple’s faces, but Giorno remains steady, thinking the request over. “As is often repeated in the community, stand users attract other stand users. With the boys’ stands manifesting this early, they would undoubtedly be in more danger. I am willing to let you seal them, Rohan, but we need to carefully consider the phrasing and how much we limit or allow.”

Rohan nods, pulling a small sketchbook from his pocket. “We can modify the language of it as much as we need before I write it in them.”

“Let’s work on it tonight so we don’t have to worry about it tomorrow. We don’t know if the new stands have any auto-defense mechanisms or not, so we’ll have the whole team on standby if necessary.”

Ari raises her hand and pulls Hearts out, saying, “I can use my lights to calm them down too, if you need it.”

“Giogio and I can each hold a twin too, to keep them more calm.” Lena adds, holding her stomach.

Looking over, Giorno gives her a sad look, holding a hand to her stomach. “Helena. I know you want to be there. But if anything does happen, I prefer to keep you and our future baby safe. I know it’s not in your nature to sit things out, but would you want to watch over Eliana along with Akashi?”

Eyes filling with tears momentarily, Lena nods. “I’ll do whatever we need to keep everyone safe.”

Ari walks over, wrapping her arms around Lena’s shoulders from behind and holding tight. “Why don’t we all get some food together and work on the phrase? I got Ellie some applesauce and waffles and yogurt earlier, but I don’t think anyone else has eaten much since lunch.”

Giorno looks up, finally smiling a little. “We could do pizza tonight.”

Rohan nods, standing. “I know Tonio’s recipe for a good mozzarella tomato salad too, if you’d like any help.”

***

It's late —past two in the morning, dark clouds visible through the curtains as chilly air blows past and into the Giovanna's mansion living room. The moonlight and the sounds of the night work as a natural melody for the two men hunched over the coffee table between mugs and energy drinks.

“Master,” Heaven's Door calls, hand carefully set on top of his user's shoulder, where his thumb rubs gentle motions over the tense muscles as he overlooks the men.

“Hm?” blinking slowly, Rohan leans back, wincing as his back cracks and the pain is momentarily relieved: green eyes heavy with sleep but still holding determination.

“I believe we're ready.” The stand says, pointing at the messy words written in the paper before them, then at Giorno —who's not in a better condition, purple bags under his bloodshot eyes, lips dry and hair slicked back after hours of thinking and working on the correct, most effective phrasing.

Looking back at Giorno, Rohan hums, reading over the orders once more and then back at Giorno with an arched eyebrow. Sighing, he reaches up for his headband, slipping it down and letting the fabric hang around his neck, words mumbled out in a quiet, exhausted tone. “If you agree, Giovanna, I'll go get Ari.”

Giorno hums —deeper, like the stress has finally worn him out. Reaching out, he pulls the paper sheet to him, reading over one, two, three times before he nods to himself, looks back at Rohan and Heaven's Door and nods firmly. “Yeah. But. I was thinking… Maybe Gold Experience Requiem can, you know, help.”

“I don't think I get it—” frowning, Rohan's fingers massage his temples, a funny small undertone to his words. “Justify your answer.”

“Mhm,” Leaning back, Giorno winces as a short sensation of numbness sets on his lower back and disappears almost immediately —and still he replies, slowly as he thinks about his words and the proper way to phrase his reasoning. “Goldie can…” he looks up into the ceiling, almost like it has the answer: after a moment, he looks back, eyes drifting between stand and user: “He can disband other stands, to put it simply —it's far more complicated than that. But I think it can work. Make everyone's work easier.”

Tapping his pen against the table, Rohan and Heaven's Door fall silent for a moment before Heaven looks back, golden eyes shining under the artificial light. “But Hearts can help calm them down.”

Standing up, Giorno smiles, turning and walking up to the closest window: “Figured you'd say that. The thing is you'd keep them calm, yes, but we don't know how aggressive, responsive and alert Reborn and Rebuilt can be. Let's remember we're just seeing them. Anything can happen.” turning his back to then, Giorno keeps talking, hands entwined behind his back and voice low, barely audible for Rohan:

“I'd hate to see anyone hurt.”

Sighing, Rohan smiles, pretending to not have heard Giorno but knowing his words will let the Don know he did. “Okay then, Mr. Protect Everyone. I'll get her.”

As he leaves the living room, Giorno's voice reaches his ears:

“Go, Romeo, go.~”

Chuckling and shaking his head as he leaves and walks down the hall, Rohan turns on the corner, stopping on his tracks as he comes face to face with Westwood and Ari. The frown that reaches his features tears a small chuckle from West, who stands aside and gestures to Ari, voice a gentle warm tone: “She couldn't sleep so I offered to take her here, Kishibe-sensei.”

Nodding as a 'thank you' Rohan steps closer, hand reaching out to Ari's shoulder as Westwood leaves down the hall (probably going to check on Giorno), leaving them alone.

“Hey,” he calls gently, tilting her chin up with the pad of his index from his free hand, “What's wrong?”

“'s nothing,” Ari mumbles, wrapping a warm hand around his arm, “Just worried.”

Rohan's features relax and his lips curl up into a calming, soft smile: “Everything's gonna work out. We made sure to think of everything.”

“I know. Just anxiety…”

Taking her hand and guiding her forward, Rohan's eyes soften as he looks back at his wife. “Fear and anxiety makes us human. It's natural to feel it.”

Wiping a stray tear, Ari nods, looking back with a soft, tired smile, “You're right.”

As they reach the doorway, Giorno's sitting in the couch with his head between his palms —and as soon as the sound of their footsteps alerts him of their presence he straightens up, playing it off with a quick look at Ari and a: “You don't have to do this, Ariel.”

Walking in, she shakes her head no, sitting before the Don with determination shining behind her eyes. “I want to.”

Giorno smiles, dimples slightly standing out: “A warrior, huh? Well,” standing up, he walks up to the door, stopping only to say: “I'll go get the boys. This room is far away from the others so if something goes wrong, my team will have more space to move around and protect you and act. Please prepare.”

Sharing a look, the Kishibes nod, watching the Don leave with Westwood following him —the flicker of his shadow and the sound of air blowing outside leave behind a mysterious, scary silence.

“So,” Westwood starts once they’re in the hall, hands inside his pockets and eyes glued to the ground. “Are you really ready to show your stand, boss?”

The answer comes after a long silence, right as they reach the stairs: “What are you trying to say, West?”

Chuckling, Westwood shakes his head: “You shouldn’t answer a question with another question… I guess I’m just wondering if this is really the right moment.”

Giorno hums, thoughtful, “Rohan and Ariel know little to nothing about my stand, but… If it’s about the boys, then it’s the right time. Besides, everyone I trust has seen my stand and knows about his powers: I believe our situation calls for it, too.”

Reaching the top, Gio stops and turns around to face his friend and bodyguard and only there when Westwood stops before Giorno does he notice the exhaustion on his features, not masked anymore.

“West,” Giorno says, eyes dull, “Trust is not a bad thing.” His hand reaches out, landing on Hysteria's user shoulder and applying minimum pressure, as if trying to comfort him. “I know you don't always know who to trust, but I can assure you Kishibe Rohan and his family do deserve our trust and protection.”

Chuckling, Westwood nods, raising a hand to pat Giorno on the shoulder with a quiet: “Got it, got it.”

As Giorno turns around and keeps walking, Westwood speaks up again, though this time quieter. “You're showing your stand as a thank you, then.”

Grabbing the doorknob to the twins bedroom, Giorno nods. “Yeah. But Rohan and Heaven have been curious about Goldie for a while now —you can call it a demonstration.”

Stifling a laugh, Westwood shakes his head, mumbling one last “So you're just getting cheeky~” as they come into the room, coming face to face with Abel and Akashi.

“Shhhh,” Akashi starts as soon as he spots them, raising a finger to his lips: “They're asleep.”

Nodding, Abel steps in, blocking the light coming from the hall from reaching the sleeping toddlers, “Is everything ready?”

Sitting by Jovi's bed, Giorno mumbles out: “Yes.” then reaches down, taking the boy in his arms, lifting him up carefully until he's cradling his sleeping son against his chest. Standing up, he turns to Carvelli. “Could you take Dante?”

Doing as told, Westwood imitates Giorno and as they're standing ready, Abel comes closer with two small blankets, draping each over their shoulders and into the kids to keep the light from hurting their eyes and waking them up.

“There you go,” he says, forcing himself to smile even if he's anxious, “Don't want the Donna to hear them cry, right?”

Giorno nods, though the mention of his wife brings a short sensation of pain to his chest —to think of her crying and worrying as she watches over Ellie brings uneasiness and sadness to him. But still, he nods, imitating Abel with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes nor makes his dimples stand out. “Right. Could you two go and stay with her?”

“Of course, Giogio.” Clapping, Akashi runs out between giggles, waiting outside for Abel.

***

Paolo Aparigi is a scientist. He believes exclusively in evidence and science —anything else, like religious dogma and superstitions must prove themselves.

Stands are science, he knows: because their existence is related to medicine and said discipline is science and biology coded. His own stand demands his understanding and attention on scientific matters, but even with his years of sitting behind a desk reading, writing and his vast experience dealing with other stands and stand users, nothing could compare to the physical pressure requiem stands could inflict.

He could only describe it as funny: the amount of ridiculously oppressive pressure a requiem stand could inflict was nothing to joke about.

A quick look around the room and he's sure everyone's just as affected as him—shaking hands, dizziness, tiredness and probably more than he can see.

Gold Experience Requiem has been standing in the corner of the room, big pink eyes staring from his spot as Giorno and Westwood stand in the middle holding the twins who are still asleep, with the rest of La Squadra and Unità around them: the process had just started and though he is the closest to the door, he still can't bring himself to leave even if Giorno did say anyone could leave if they couldn't take it.

The voice coming from the corner, of that being close to a god, makes him stand straight and look forward when he speaks:

“Kishibe Ariel, use your stand, please. I will not attack or affect your powers.” His hand rises up forming a fist and the pressure in the environment decreases like he willingly dropped —or overturned— his abilities like some kind of electromagnetic field to allow her unrestricted movement and space.

Through shaking hands, Ari leaves her husband's side, approaching Giorno first: Hearts on Fire pops out after a moment, almost like her user struggled to call her. Reaching a hand out, Heart's hand rests gently on top of Jovi's head, combing his blond wavy strands back. A blue aura soon emits from Hearts’ forehead and stomach eyes, glowing through her crystal heart as well and surrounding the stand and the boy, who sighs in his sleep and sinks further in his father's arms.

Gold Experience Requiem turns to Rohan, eyes boring into his soul and a hand gesturing forward with a “Go ahead, Kishibe Rohan.”

Standing up from the couch, Rohan curses under his breath as dizziness kicks in for a second, then makes his way over. With Heaven's Door peeking over his shoulder in Goldie's direction, both stands share a look before Heaven turns back to Jovi, raising his hand, swiping open at his forehead and stops to look back at Giorno.

The Don's eyes show his pain and exhaustion: the hurt from seeing this. Still, he nods, lips tightly pressed into a line and eyes dull, from their usual tone to a darker one.

“Sorry, Giovanna.” Rohan whispers, right hand shaking as he holds the pen and writes down the command:

‘Reborn and Rebuilt will not work, passive or actively, unless my life or my brother's are in danger and we are unprotected.’

Nodding, Rohan makes sure to deactivate his stand on Jovi, reading over the command and letting his skin turn back to normal when he's satisfied with the result. Then, he moves on, now before Westwood and Dante. Quietly, he watches Ari repeat the same process: using the blue light and letting it sit for a moment before he's allowed to come closer.

And repeating his own actions, he still mumbles his apologies to Giorno, hands shaking by the time he's done.

The room stays the same for a second —the sounds of crickets outside suddenly disappear and Paolo tenses, noticing the two silhouettes barely forming behind Giorno and West.

“Don't move.” Gold Experience Requiem says, pink eyes staring right into the two beings: there, he watches over both. The one coming from Dante, a completely white humanoid being with a clear hose down his arms, connected to a core in the middle of its chest —the other, the one behind Jovi, has the same humanoid form and white skin with only one clear hose in its left arm, connected to his back and ending at the top of his right shoulder. Both vibrate, with the one coming from Dante producing something that circulates inside the hoses relentlessly.

As both their hands materialize and reach out to the other, Ari's stand reaches out again, setting her hands atop the twins' heads and, as the first wave of blue light comes out in waves, both stands disappear and the edges of the pages in their foreheads disappear.

Finally deactivating his powers, Goldie overlooks the room: everyone's panting and sweating, completely exhausted. And so he says: “We're done, Master.”

“Thank you, Goldie." He says, leaning back.

Before he disappears, Goldie bows, leaving behind the faint smell of honey and flowers.

Sitting up straight, Giorno looks back at the Kishibe's, blinking slowly –like a cat, though his action comes from his exhaustion. “Thank you.”

Helping Ari sit down as La Squadra and Unità slowly take their seats in the couches, Rohan nods, taking slightly longer to reply as he sits on the floor between Ari's legs, leaning his head on one of her thighs. “Yeah, 's okay. Jus' make sure they're okay.”

***

As they stop before the door, Akashi and Abel tense. With the latter still offering his arm for Lena to hold on, the Capo and soldato look back at their boss: she's quiet, brown eyes bloodshot from all the crying and tiredness. Her hand rubs over the baby bump and the other grips Akashi's arm, staring straight into the door. Anxious and tired.

The door opens suddenly and Giorno's there by the other side, a towel draped over his shoulders, damp hair and pajamas on. Taking a step out, he offers a hand out to his wife, talking to his men with a small, reassuring smile:

“Thank you, Abel, Akashi. Go get some sleep.”

Letting go of Akashi's arm, Lena remains silent as she takes Giorno's hand and both men leave.

In silence, both come into their bedroom.

Guiding her to the bed, Gio's silent as she sits down, eyes welling up with tears as she looks over the sleeping twins in the middle of the bed, surrounded by blankets and pillows in an attempt to keep them from falling down.

“Hey,” he calls, setting a warm hand on top of her cold ones, leaning down in order to do so, “We succeeded. Their stands are sealed: they won't be used unless there's no one to protect them.”

A sob cuts off the silence —reaching out, Lena holds both of his hands between her shaking ones, quietly crying and trying her best to hide her face from his view. With a “Hey,” Giorno moves, kneeling before her, trying his best to warm her hands with his. “It's okay. They're healthy.”

Another sob and she reaches out, arms open and face red and swollen: the image breaks his heart. Coming closer, he wraps both arms around her, rubbing her back as she holds onto him, mumbling her answer against the crown of his head:

“I'm just glad it's over,” wiping her tears with the pads of her fingers, her smile slowly brings a small pink blush to her cheeks, “Knowing they'll be playing soon. Running around the house, asking about their sister. I'm so happy…”

Pulling back, Gio grins —relieved and calmer— looking up at her. “I'm sure they will keep going like nothing happened. We will talk to them if they ask, but I think we should keep this information from them until they're older and mature enough to understand.” his hand reaches out, cupping her face gently, tone shifting to one quieter and warmer. “I was just going to fill the tub for you, do you want to take a bath or leave it for tomorrow?”

Leaning into his touch, Lena hums, rubbing a hand over his arm. “I don't think I have the energy for a bath, maybe just a quick shower. Creating a baby is hard, you know.”

Laughing, Giorno pulls back to untie her shoes, tossing them aside and standing back again, a warm, tired smile her way as he walks into the closet to retrieve clean clothes.

Looking back, Lena reaches out to Dante, then at Jovi, tracing their faces with the pad of her finger. For a second, as the sounds of Giorno walking in the other room and the quiet night surround her, her attention remains only on her sons, studying their faces and making sure they're safe: counting down their fingers, making sure their freckles are still there —even running her hand over their hair and checking the color of it. The same type and color as their father's.

“Okay, I got you my hoodie and clean panties —” stopping before her after coming back from the bathroom, Gio goes silent, waiting until she looks back, sighing in relief when he notices her calm expression, keeping on. “Do you need help showering?”

Shaking her head no, she stands up, slowly and only after looking back at the boys, Lena walks over to Gio, taking the towels from him and pulling him in for a short kiss. “Be right back, babe.”

***

The bathroom door opens slowly. Blinking the sleep away, Gio looks up into the direction he knows the door is: there stands his wife, wearing his hoodie and putting a wild curl behind her ear.

“Hey,” she whispers, slowly walking up to bed. “Sorry it took so long, I needed to dry my hair first.”

Nodding, Giorno stands up, quickly circling the bed and offering a hand to help her up into the bed. As she makes herself comfortable, he pulls the comforter up around her hips. Then, he retrieves another comforter from the top of his side of the bed, mumbling:

“Guess we won't share the comforter today. Gotta keep them safe.”

She hums, watching him climb on his side and lay down, propping himself up into his elbow.

Both of them look down at the sleeping twins —deep asleep, like nothing happened and it had just been a long day playing and running around the house.

Slowly looking back, Lena's mouth opens slowly to ask in a whisper: “Where…?”

Looking back, Giorno blinks slowly, understanding her real question almost immediately:

Where did he write the command?

Raising a hand, his finger comes closer, almost touching Dante's forehead, right where Rohan had written the command: “Here.”

She nods, thoughtful. Perhaps calmer than before. Then, she slowly settles down, mumbling: “And I guess Ari helped too?”

“She did.”

Sighing, a soft smile lifts her lips up. “They're so good to us.”

He follows her eyes, watches her blink slowly, staring at the spot he signaled earlier. Her question does not come out, though he knows she really wants to ask: like she's afraid of even mentioning the topic.

Slowly opening his mouth, Giorno's warm hand reaches out, gently coming to rest against her hip with a whisper intended to reply to her unspoken question:

“Goldie saw their stands. Not completely, but I know he could see some small details.”

She looks back, lips pressed into a line and a quiet hum. If she wants to talk more, he's sure the topic will come up again tomorrow, when both have rested and calmed down.

He watches her eyes close and her hand reach out, holding Jovi's hand and, before he gets the chance to say goodnight, he knows she's already asleep.

Sighing, his own eyes start to close as his mind runs quickly over the recent events: before reaching a conclusion, sleep begins to overcome him.

At least now, compared to around thirteen years before, he's surrounded by everything he's ever wanted but didn't know he needed: a family and friends.

#ABSOLUTELY LOSING MY MIND THIS WAS SO GOOD??? THIS WAS SO AMAZING???????? Y'ALL 😭#it was sweet and tense and funny and i ran through SO MANY EMOTIONS #jesus christ i'mma need to have to read this again like 5 more times #GioLena #AriHan #SunnieD #friends writing

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sunshine-shitposts · 2 years ago

Text

Welcome Home

💖

As his car pulled up to the gate, Dio pressed the button that opened the ornate wrought iron remotely. The two sides began to part and pull apart along the track, and after a few seconds he was able to pull through them. Dio drove up through the arching tunnel of trees over the driveway, eventually coming to a stop in front of a sprawling Victorian house—their home, shrouded in the shadows of night. He drove through the porte cochere and pressed a second button, waiting for the garage to open before parking the large SUV next to his wife's little blue hatchback. Dio powered off his car and looked expectantly at her. The second that the cold air from the AC stopped blowing on her face, she stirred–a small grunt of disapproval as her face scrunched up. Dio smiled softly, the small huff of a laugh escaping him.

"Wake up, my love. We've arrived," he whispered, careful not to rouse the newborn in the back.

Sunnie's eyes screwed open, and she grunted longer this time. "'M up. I'm getting up," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. She un-slunched herself, stretching in her seat a bit before awareness slowly rebooted her brain. Suddenly her eyes flew wide open, a burst of soft wind chimes ringing through the air as Dust in the Wind emerged from Sunnie and the Stand immediately swept to the rear-facing car seat, checking its contents intently.

There he was—baby Liam Brando, barely two days old at that point and wrapped up snuggly, fast asleep. His chubby little cheeks were faintly rosy and he had a significant tuft of light lavender hair poking out from the blankets.

Sunnie relaxed in the seat slightly, sighing. "He's sleeping," she informed Dio, Windy nodding gladly and vanishing, "He's so fucking cute, babe. Holy shit."

"We did a fine job, if I do say so myself," he replied, unbuckling himself and opening the driver's side door. "Come now, let's show him to his room."

"Yeah. Let's head inside. My parents should still be here, and I'm hungry as fuck."

"Luckily for you, I alerted your parents of our arrival. Lee should already be getting the grill ready," Dio grinned. He opened the back seat door, thinking for a moment before Liam's car seat was already undone and in his arms. Sunnie stared at him, an eyebrow raising.

"Did you just stop time to undo his car seat?"

He chuckled. "That I did. It was the easiest way to not jostle him, though I'll admit, he sleeps a lot easier than I would have suspected a newborn to do."

Sunnie gave him a knowing smirk. "Looks like that part of him takes after me, at least." She paused for a second and sniffed. "…Steak. It's steak, dad's cooking steak!!" Dio met her around the other side of his SUV and leaned down, kissing her.

"Good nose. Now, let's welcome our child home."

#IT'S BEEN A WEEK SINCE BABY CAME HOME #good for him #self rb #SunnieD #my writing

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sunshine-shitposts · 2 years ago

Text

Clementine

Listen I know this is hella late but I am very proud of it 😌

August 18, 2022

“You’re showing,” Toby breathed, eyes wide with wonder as he looked at the slight swell of his friend’s stomach.

Sunnie laughed, still holding up the bottom hem of her large tie dye sweatshirt so he could marvel at the sight. “You’ve been out on duty for a while, you should have expected this. That’s what babies do, y'know, grow.”

“Yeah, I know I should have but… you’re showing!! There’s a bump! There’s a… a bump, wow,” He repeated, voice filled with awe and adoration and tapering off into a whisper. He moved his hands over the soft skin of her belly. “Look, this appendectomy scar even kinda moved a bit!!” He continued, poking at one of the three larger silvery-pale marks on her skin and her eyes blew wide.

“Oh shit? For real??” She looked down to where Toby pointed before her mouth split wide into a smile. “Babe!!!” She called out, “Babe, get a pad of paper and a pencil… and a tape measure too, or something!!”

“Of course, darling. What for?” Dio called back from the kitchen, the gentle clinking of plates and glassware being packed up ringing faintly through the air.

“We’re going to start tracking the distance between my appendectomy scars,” she said excitedly, and he laughed.

Keep reading

#self rb #bc i'm proud #SunnieD #my writing

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sunshine-shitposts · 2 years ago

Text

Welcome Home

💖

"Wake up, my love. We've arrived," he whispered, careful not to rouse the newborn in the back.

Sunnie relaxed in the seat slightly, sighing. "He's sleeping," she informed Dio, Windy nodding gladly and vanishing, "He's so fucking cute, babe. Holy shit."

"We did a fine job, if I do say so myself," he replied, unbuckling himself and opening the driver's side door. "Come now, let's show him to his room."

"Yeah. Let's head inside. My parents should still be here, and I'm hungry as fuck."

"Did you just stop time to undo his car seat?"

He chuckled. "That I did. It was the easiest way to not jostle him, though I'll admit, he sleeps a lot easier than I would have suspected a newborn to do."

"Good nose. Now, let's welcome our child home."

#TADAA #liam's official birth date is 12/7 but i started a new medication and it's making me feel a little weird #so the story is that we stayed at the foundation 2 days after the birth and went home today #makes things easy 🤷‍♀️#SunnieD #my writing

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sunshine-shitposts · 2 years ago

Text

Clementine

Listen I know this is hella late but I am very proud of it 😌

August 18, 2022

"You're showing," Toby breathed, eyes wide with wonder as he looked at the slight swell of his friend's stomach.

Sunnie laughed, still holding up the bottom hem of her large tie dye sweatshirt so he could marvel at the sight. "You've been out on duty for a while, you should have expected this. That's what babies do, y'know, grow."

"Yeah, I know I should have but… you're showing!! There's a bump! There's a… a bump, wow," He repeated, voice filled with awe and adoration and tapering off into a whisper. He moved his hands over the soft skin of her belly. "Look, this appendectomy scar even kinda moved a bit!!" He continued, poking at one of the three larger silvery-pale marks on her skin and her eyes blew wide.

"Oh shit? For real??" She looked down to where Toby pointed before her mouth split wide into a smile. "Babe!!!" She called out, "Babe, get a pad of paper and a pencil… and a tape measure too, or something!!"

"Of course, darling. What for?" Dio called back from the kitchen, the gentle clinking of plates and glassware being packed up ringing faintly through the air.

"We're going to start tracking the distance between my appendectomy scars," she said excitedly, and he laughed.

"You can take the STEM teacher out of the classroom, but you can't take the classroom experiments out of the STEM teacher," he mused as he pulled open one of the kitchen drawers and rummaged around, finding her adorable bear-shaped measuring tape quite easily. Grabbing a pencil and pad, he strolled into the living room, dodging the various packed boxes as he walked, before handing the items to his wife. He gave her a kiss on the head, then turned and gave Toby a kiss on his head as well before he turned and walked back to the kitchen. "The packing calls to me, darlings!"

Toby and Sunnie stared at each other for a second, eyes wide, before giggling.

"He's really cute when he's being affectionate," Toby whispered.

"Oh, totally cute," Sunnie agreed.

They both knew that he'd probably heard them anyways.

After taking down the measurements between scars, and their distance from the belly button, Toby set his head against Sunnie's stomach. "You know I'm gonna be the best uncle, right?" He grinned ear to ear, "I'm gonna learn how to change diapers, I'm gonna babysit them when you two need time alone, they're gonna be my new best friend!"

Sunnie smiled back at him, running her hand through his fluffy hair. "I know you will," she said, and he preened under her touch, "I've seen your search history, Toebeans. 'How to change a diaper', 'how to rock a baby to sleep', you're really doing research."

"I'm really glad your parents gave you that rocking chair you fell asleep on when you were a baby. I feel like it'll help a lot, though I might fall asleep on it too." Toby smiled.

"Trust me," Sunnie snickered, "My dad did that a lot. Still puts me right to sleep all these years later."

Toby sighed contentedly, then pushed his head a little bit further into his friend, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I've never had this before," he said softly, "You guys are the only family I have, besides mama."

Sunnie dropped next to him on the sofa, wrapping her arms around him. "I know, bestie. I know." She squeezed tighter, remembering the first time she met Toby's mom—Vanessa was absolutely gorgeous, yes, but there was a distant yet palpable loneliness in her hazelnut eyes and in her genial rosy smile. Both of the Culvers truly only ever had each other prior to the aftermath of Sunnie's first mission, and every time Sunnie had visited her with Toby after that, she could see a little more light return to her, as if she was happy that her son had finally found friendship. "Tobs, we're both so lucky that you're in our lives. Ever since Maine, you've been here for both of us. And you've never stopped! You're nothing if not persistent."

"It's not my fault that two hot people with oddly simmering sexual tension between them popped up in front of me like that," Toby laughed a little shakily, "I had to take advantage of the situation. And neither of you… you didn't judge me for who I am or what I do, or that I enjoy what I do. Not many people here have ever wanted to get to know the Foundation's resident torture specialist. You welcomed me, though. Sunnie, you both—"

She could feel him tensing up, so she diverted his energy by squeezing and pulling him backwards into the comfort of the crux of the sectional sofa, padded with pillows and blankets. She laid next to him, nuzzling into his cheek reassuringly. "Listen, Tobs. We love you. Both of us, we love you so much."

Probably sensing that Toby's emotions had riled up, Dio returned with two glasses of ice water, setting them down on the coffee table and sitting next to Sunnie. "Tobias, trust me. You are as much a part of our family as we are yours. We guarantee you that. And both of us will remind you of it, over and over, whenever you'd like." Toby and Sunnie sat back up, the former reaching for his water as his face could hardly contain the blushing joy he was feeling.

"You guys will be the death of me," he forced out, nearly trembling with happiness before taking a long drink. "Both of you are too much, almost. It's a lot to handle at times."

"We have a lot of love to give, silly," Sunnie teased. "And you do too. You're going to be one of the best uncles the world's ever seen."

"Agreed," Dio said.

"But!!" Sunnie blurted out, a warm sharpness in her tone that made Toby straighten up and answer her with a clipped 'yes ma'am!!', "I have some rules regarding media. They are to be strictly followed, as the situation allows."

"So, if it's on in a public space, it's generally fine," Dio said, nudging their friend behind Sunnie's back. "It's mostly an 'if we can help it' policy."

She nodded. "Firstly: no Paw Patrol until the kid can be spoken to about the show's implications," she said, tapping her finger on the coffee table, "I don't trust it. It seems like an authoritarian police state fantasy packaged up in cute vigilante puppies. The lack of social services depicted in the show and the normalization of drone surveillance over the citizens alarms me. I could go on a rant about my problems with it, but I'll spare you."

Dio chuckled lovingly. "I defer to my wife on this one. She's the political science major, I trust her judgment on matters such as this above all."

Toby nodded dutifully, understandingly: "Honestly I got a nasty vibe all along with that show," he then snickered, "Like it's paw-paganda."

Dio rolled his eyes, smile pulling at his lips despite himself. "Oh my god."

"Secondly," Sunnie continued, "No Peppa Pig. I've seen the devastation that porcine pest can cause. Do you know how hard it is to stop an entire grade of children from oinking after each sentence?? Her effects are horrifically memetic in nature. Shit catches on like an SCP cognitohazard-based plague."

"I've seen some Peppa Pig episodes," Dio grimaced, "Can't believe my country of origin produced something like that."

"No phallic-headed piggies, got it," Toby nodded again, thoroughly amused by Sunnie's personal vendetta against a children's cartoon.

"And thirdly:" Sunnie said, "Fuck Caillou, if I could punt that bald-headed little shit across a field I would. No Caillou. Absolutely none."

At that, Toby laughed, loud and ringing. "At this point, do you guys have an approved list of kids' media?"

"Oh, of course. Most media is alright, it's just that we've taken a stand against these specifically. But we do have several that we favor," Dio said, almost sagely, "Daniel Tiger, Bluey, The Backyardigans, many of the shows on PBS—barring any aforementioned—Mr. Rogers in particular is a show that Sunshine has introduced me to, and I find its quality to be incredible."

"He's healing his inner child," Sunnie interjected, to which Dio smiled.

"Yes," he said, voice soft and a little distant, "Yes, I suppose I am."

Toby looked up at him, his usually manic gaze softening. "I'm happy for you, Big D," he said, voice comfortingly warm, "If anyone deserves it, you do."

Dio laughed. "Oh, I hardly think I deserve it," he said, ruffling Toby's undercut a bit, "Actually, amongst all of those shows, I think I've found myself appreciating Bluey the most. It's… helpful to see a healthy family dynamic such as theirs."

Sunnie planted a kiss on her husband's cheek. "You're talking like my family isn't enough of an example, babe," she said jokingly, to which Dio's face went slightly paler than normal.

"That's—my love, that's not what I meant at all, I just—"

She cackled, "I'm teasing, big guy. I know." Sunnie pressed some extra kisses to his face, and he relaxed.

"I agree with Toby, you know. Sometimes you are too much." Dio took a deep breath in while Toby snickered at the blush that dusted the vampire's cheeks. "I don't know how to raise children. I have no idea what it might be like, nor what being a good father to a little child is supposed to entail. I've met some of Sunshine's former students, and I've watched how wonderfully she interacts with them, how she treats them as equals rather than looking down on them. But I, myself, have never done so." He looked over to Sunnie, his smile loving. "Your parents are excellent, the best of the best. Your relationship with them is so open and honest, but I've only ever seen pictures and some sparse video of you with them when you were a child. So, watching Bandit and Chilli's grace in raising their little animated puppies is the best I have in that regard." Reaching a hand up, he cupped her cheek, running his thumb along the soft, glowy skin. "I spent years filled with cruelty and covered in sharp edges. Being soft and yielding is still a new experience for me. I only hope you allow me leeway as I navigate this new chapter of my life, my love."

Sunnie's lip trembled a bit and her eyes noticeably began to water slightly. She drew in a shuddering breath as she smiled widely. "The hormones are getting to me. I'm so happy I wanna cry."

"Then I shall be there to dry your tears," her husband said before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Or rather, for now, Toby shall have the honor of comforting you. I'm almost done packing up the kitchen." Toby and Sunnie laughed as he stood, running a clawed hand through Sunnie's messy dark purple hair. "Don't strain yourself too much, Sunlight. The big move is soon after all."

"I'll watch myself, big guy. Have fun with the cutlery!" She called after him as he returned to the kitchen.

"Toss around a few knives for me!" Toby joined in.

"You have my word!" Dio responded.

Sunnie took a moment to drink from her glass of water, nearly emptying it in one go before setting it back down. "It's really weird, Tobs," she looked around at the now-mostly-empty room, a majority of their belongings safe in labeled boxes, "I've lived here for… four years now? I escaped a horrible marriage here, and these are walls I've healed from that in. I found new love here, new friends, a new life, and as claustrophobic as some people might find living underground, I'm going to miss it here."

He grinned his toothy grin and pulled her in for a hug, nestling her comfortably into his side. "I feel like this change will be incredible for you two. A yard! A pool, a creek in the back, so, so many trees, and a lot of them are climbable!" He rested his head on hers. "You guys are gonna have so much space to work with. This kid's gonna have it good. They're gonna wake up from a mid-day nap to the sounds of birds and maybe some squirrels, they're gonna catch toads and fireflies on summer nights. It's literally an idyllic childhood home. Not to mention, the house already feels magical."

"It really does," Sunnie said, smiling at the thought of the beautiful home, and of how she could feel its history the first time she traced her fingers over the intricate carvings on the front door.

"Welp, before we keep packing," Toby said, slapping his thighs before he stood and stretched his arms and back, then went to walk off down the main hall. "I gotta take a piss. I'll be back in a jiff!"

Sunnie stood as well and walked over to the TV, reaching up and pulling her large photobook of Ireland off of the recessed shelf above the screen and held it in her hands for a moment. She ran her fingers over the cover—rolling green hills with a line of an old cobblestone fence running through it, bright blue sky filled with white clouds hovering above the land like an embrace. She wondered if one day they'd be able to travel to Ireland as a family, to see the lands that many of her own ancestors had hailed from.

It had been a little longer than twelve years since she had met her biological mother. And even though that relationship ultimately wasn't fated to work out—her biological mother was fine in the beginning, but she eventually succumbed to a path of conservative religious extremism—it had opened up Sunnie's world to meeting her other family, and eventually her biological father. Sunnie's relationship with him was also ill-fated; as it turned out, he was an Illuminati conspiracy theorist and Sunnie was a Freemason-by-family, so upon learning that, he'd dropped communications with her and, within the past year, had passed from cancer.

Neither of her biological parents, much to her dismay, had Stands. Nor did, to her knowledge, anyone else she was genetically related to. At the time it was an incredibly difficult concept to grasp: she'd spent twenty years assuming and hoping that meeting her biological family would clear up the mysteries of why she was the way she was, of why she could control wind almost instinctively. She never got any answers. In the end, she'd come to peace with the unsatisfactory outcome, and found solace in the discovery of her ancestry instead. Her biological father had an anglicized Irish last name, and upon getting her genetics tested at the behest of her ex-husband, she'd confirmed her predominantly Irish origins.

But she knew that eventually, the child growing inside her would ask why they had no grandparents on dad's side. They'd ask where dad was from. They'd ask questions upon questions, because that is what children do—they explore the world around them through inquiry. She and her husband had had many discussions on how to handle this, and had agreed that the kid would grow up knowing dad was different. That he was a vampire. They both figured that if Sunnie had kept the secret of having a Stand so well as a child, their kid could handle knowing the reality of their dad's condition. Dio had even called his in-laws and asked for advice, which they were happy to give. As for Dio's history, they'd parcel it out in bits and pieces according to how well they'd figure the child could handle it. You can never plan exactly when a kid is ready for something, Sunnie told Dio, they grow up thinking Santa and the tooth fairy exist, and then one day they figure the reality of it out. It'd just be a similar thing to work out.

There was a strange creeping of dark green—almost black—at the corners of her vision, and her brows furrowed. That wasn't normal. She blinked it away, or at least tried to, but it persisted, slinking further and further as her head suddenly felt light and off-kilter.

In the other room, something tingled at Dio's nose, and not in a way he liked. "Love?" He asked, popping his head out from the kitchen doorway. "Is everything alright?"

Sunnie stared at him, wide-eyed, before she felt the hold on the book loosen and it fell from her hands to the floor, narrowly missing her foot. As her vision nearly completely darkened, she felt gravity shift and her knees buckled.

Dio immediately vanished from view, but she knew she was safe, because as she fell, his arms were already there to catch her.

○

The first thing Sunnie noticed when she came to was the sterile smell of a hospital room. The beeps of medical instruments, however, were nowhere to be heard; the room was instead bathed in a watery shimmer, like sunlight viewed through the rippling water of an aquarium, as a large, translucent jellyfish-like creature floated above her, the lights inside it pulsing as it emitted comfortingly echoing hum-like noises. Several of its thick tentacles fell around her like a sort of curtain, soft specks of light drifting down towards her through them like snowflakes, and one tentacle seemed to be placed so that it could connect with her body through her chest. A second tentacle, however, extended itself so that it could connect with her stomach.

Seemingly upon registering Sunnie's awakeness, rainbow lights flitted along the outside of the tentacles, and she found herself admiring the sight—it was like the lights on a comb jelly in the deep sea.

She'd heard about this Stand before: Clementine, a Stand used by one of the major doctors at the Dallas location. The Stand itself couldn't heal, but it was renowned for its diagnostic and monitoring abilities. Toby had excitedly talked about it before, having had to be taken care of by it multiple times (his job as 'interrogator' came with a few dangers), and he'd always sung the praises of its user's bedside manner.

She turned her head towards the windows and saw a tall man, broad-shouldered and framed in the warm light of the sunset, his hat set on the table so his dark hair fell slightly messy around his face as he wrote on something before consulting what was likely a textbook, his long coat draped over the back of his chair. She blinked, brows furrowed as she wondered if she was seeing things, before asking:

"…Jotaro?"

He set his pen down and looked over to her, aquamarine eyes just as vibrant as she remembered. "Sunnie. Hi."

"Uh, hisashiburi." She gripped the soft, sterile sheets under her hands. "How've you been?"

"Well enough."

She looked at him oddly, an unspoken question in the air, which he seemed to pick up on.

"This room isn't protected against the sun, so Dio can't be in here yet." He turned back to his notes, leafing through them for a moment before picking them up and tapping them on the table, straightening them. "Toby was in until he got called out to do some work. I just got in town, and I agreed to watch over you."

Sunnie stared at him, eyes wide, before she laughed, waving her hands in the air placatively. "Thanks a bunch, man, but you didn't need to! This place is super safe, after all."

Jotaro looked back at her, mildly bemused. "I was requested, actually."

She stared at him, face blank. "Uh, Cat? Er–Mrs. Gupta?"

He smirked a little. "No, not her. Your husband asked for me."

Her jaw dropped and she bolted forward in her bed in disbelief. "Wha—Dio asked for you?"

"I was just as surprised as you are. But apparently, he said he couldn't think of anyone more capable of protecting you besides himself. He was… he was very worried for you."

Sunnie sat back on her hospital bed, almost at a loss for words. "Holy shit. Well if that ain't character development, I don't know what is."

Jotaro gave her a light shrug in response. Before he could say anything else, the door opened, and a cheery voice danced through the room.

"Good morning, Mrs. Brando～! Or rather, good evening!"

Dr. Charlotte Wilder's official title was Chief Diagnostician, which was true, but she also had an incredible knack for many other fields, surgery being a particular interest of hers. Her off-record primary work, however, was diagnosing, monitoring, and rehabilitating (if needed) employees affected by any Stand attacks they'd encounter in the field. She was young—only twenty two years of age—with long braided peach colored hair and a multitude of light freckles all over her body, and big, round light green eyes that almost always sparkled. Her position at the Dallas Foundation had been secured since she was scouted at the young age of eleven.

"Oh, call me Sunnie," Sunnie laughed, automatically rising to meet the bubbly personality of the doctor as Jotaro did the opposite and buried himself back into his work.

"Alrighty then, Sunnie," Dr. Wilder grinned widely before making a beeline to the wheeled stool in the room by a desk, "And you can call me Charlotte. We're all Stand users, we're all part of the same gang. So, how are you feeling? Any discomfort?"

Sunnie thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Nah, I feel good. Rested." She then lowered her face into a mock-grim expression, dropping her voice dramatically. "So, doc, give it to me straight… how bad is it? How long do I got?"

Charlotte laughed brightly. "It's anemia," she said, pushing herself closer to the bedside on her stool (but not before doing a 360° twirl on it). "But it's, uh… weird anemia."

"Weird anemia?" Sunnie repeated, slowly.

Charlotte looked at Sunnie over her rectangular wire frame glasses, tapping her Foundation-branded silver pen on the mattress. "While you were passed out, your iron levels dropped a few times. But your child's—" She consulted with her Stand for a moment, and it seemed to let out a few confirmatory warbles, "—your child's rose significantly each time that happened."

Sunnie's eyes blew wide and she leaned forward, shocked. "You mean the kid is leeching off of me??"

"Well, they're half vampire, what did you expect?" Charlotte giggled, one of Clementine's translucent arms beginning to flash dimly as she filled out a form on her clipboard, "But this isn't anything to worry about. We just need you on a special iron supplement regimen. I'll take the data from Clementine into the lab and get something fixed up for you. I'd like you to come in weekly to check for any adjustments that need to be made at least—you know as well as I do that we're winging this pregnancy as it is. If you begin to feel lightheaded before that week mark hits, let me know immediately and I'll get you in."

Jotaro saw Sunnie relax into her pillow slightly, breathing a sigh of relief. "Yeesh. What a little gremlin." She smiled and placed her hand on her belly, caressing it through her sweatshirt softly. "You're gonna pay for this in so many cuddles when you get outta there, buddy."

Charlotte looked at Sunnie and held her hand up, whispering a small 'may I?' before Sunnie nodded, and Charlotte placed the hand on her stomach as well, right next to her Stand's glowing arm. "You know, when I heard about the circumstances of this pregnancy, I was fascinated—a non-human and a human producing offspring, and this is the first time we'd be able to monitor it all the way through. A medical first…" she trailed off for a moment, before looking at Sunnie, alarmed. "Oh–oh god, I'm so sorry, I'm talking about you like you're an experiment—"

She was cut off by Sunnie's bright, cackling laughter. "No! No, I get it. I totally get it, I'm rather scientifically-minded myself. I'm just as interested as you are, frankly."

Charlotte relaxed substantially. "Oh thank god," she chuckled, "I tend to overwhelm people sometimes. Don't mean to, it just kind of happens." She stood up, putting her pen in her lab coat pocket. "I'll get the supplements ready in the pharmacological suite. By the way," she said, almost as an aside, "The sun's just set. Your husband will probably be up soon." She then motioned to her Stand, which detached its tentacles from Sunnie's body and made a deep warbling noise. "It was good to meet you, by the way! Don't forget, I'll see you next week."

Sunnie waved excitedly. "Next week! I'll definitely be there."

Charlotte smiled again before turning to leave out the door. As Clementine followed the doctor out of the room, Sunnie looked at Jotaro and saw his gaze following the Stand intently. After the door closed, she waited a few seconds before releasing an amused huff of air.

"…Did you like Clementine because it looks like a jellyfish?" She asked, a sly grin on her face.

Jotaro looked off to the side slightly. "…I didn't hate it."

Sunnie giggled. There was a comfortable silence between them for about a minute before she spoke up.

"Dio and I bought a house that we're moving into," she said, "It's massive. Three stories, Victorian. There's a pool, a garden… There's a creek in the back too, with fish and ducks and frogs. We've even already had all the regular windows replaced with a special Foundation-made UV-resistant glass, and all the stained glass is being treated so that Dio can walk around during the day and not get hurt." She looked at Jotaro with a warm smile. "We're also having a second, more planned out marriage celebration early next year. Our wedding was really rushed and really small, but if you'd like to attend, I'll send you the details."

He stared at her, face stoic as always, before nodding. "I'll see if I can make it," he replied. "I suppose I need to get over the fact that this Dio isn't the one I fought. The fact that he's been in with the Foundation this long speaks for itself, but…"

His words died off and he seemed to not know how to continue his thoughts out loud, but Sunnie nodded knowingly. "I get it, Jotaro. Sometimes it's hard to let go of a past that affected you so deeply. I know how it feels."

He gave her a small, appreciative smile before the door slammed open and there was a blur of blonde hair as Dio wrapped his massive arms around Sunnie, pushing her back into the pillow on the medical bed with the force of the hug.

"Oh. Speak of the devil." Jotaro deadpanned.

"Darling, I spoke to the doctor in the hall," Dio said hurriedly, not paying any mind to Jotaro's comment. "She said it's anemia, and assured me that you and the baby are going to be fine, but how do you feel? Are you alright??" He pulled back and looked at her pleadingly. She just broke out in a peal of laughter, cheeks flushing.

"I'm fine! I promise, I'm fine, big guy." She brought her hands up to his face and pulled him down, pressing their foreheads together. "Both of us are perfectly fine. It just turns out our little bundle of joy is taking a few cues from his dear old dad and taking some of my blood."

Dio's eyes widened for a moment, then he laughed as well, the sound deep and sonorous. "Well well well, I certainly don't blame them! They'd better leave some for me, though. I've been holding off on partaking since the beginning of the pregnancy and I would hate to be left out."

A cough interrupted them, and they both turned to see Jotaro, whose normally aloof demeanor had cracked to show slightest hint of disgust at their display of affection. Sunnie cackled again, and she apologized profusely as Dio straightened himself up.

"Jotaro, I would like to thank you personally for watching over Sunshine," he said, though his furrowed brows gave away his discomfort being so close to the man. "And, by proxy, our unborn child."

"It's no problem, really," Jotaro replied, voice a little clipped. There was a small twitch in one of his hands, and he seemed to grit his teeth. "Do you, uh, do you know the sex of the child?"

"We know, but we're keeping it between us," Sunnie explained, to which Dio chuckled.

"Sunshine has some… more traditional family members. When we do finally announce both our marriage and pregnancy to them and the baby showers happen, we'd prefer to not have them forcing these weirdly gendered baby items on them."

Sunnie grimaced. "Like those onesies that say 'daddy's girl'."

"Or the shirts that say 'lady killer' or 'hide your daughters' or some such nonsense," Dio added in disgust.

Jotaro felt some of the tension leave his body. "That's understandable." He paused for a moment, clearly deep in thought. "You really aren't the same man that I killed, huh?" Jotaro said, standing to his full height. Even this Dio was different—he was slightly taller than Jotaro, maybe by an inch or an inch and a half.

Dio's brows creased, and he looked away. "We may have been similar. Dio Prime and I have both done terrible things—arguably, I have done far worse. Since I escaped, the number I've killed in the name of survival is far higher than Prime's ever was." He sighed after a moment, then met Jotaro's eyes again: they were the exact same bright aquamarine color he remembered from that night in Alta, but these were calmer and wiser and not filled with hatred. He breathed in deep before releasing a sigh. "Ultimately, I do feel I've changed. A wise man once said, 'Which is better: to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?'"

Sunnie immediately slapped at his hip. "Oh my god," she stage-whispered, "Oh my god are you fucking quoting Skyrim to Jotaro???"

Dio just as quickly grabbed the top of Sunnie's head, pushing it around in circles as he, too, stage-whispered humorously, "Shh. Hush, my love. Don't say anything."

Jotaro just stared at them in disbelief. "…Dio played Skyrim?"

Dio shrugged. "Whenever Sunshine goes out on missions, I find myself with little to do. She enjoys video games, so I decided to try some out, on her recommendation."

"He's played Shadow of the Colossus too, and we play Guild Wars 2 together as well," Sunnie interjected, grinning, "And several Pokémon games, but I question his team building methods."

Dio leaned down, leering at his wife. "I build my teams for the aesthetic. It's important."

She glared at him. "What about functionality, because I kick your ass EVERY time we battle!!"

"It doesn't matter that you kick my ass. What matters is that I look good."

Despite himself, Jotaro let out an amused huff. Both Dio and Sunnie stared at him with wide eyes. "You really are a lot different than him," Jotaro said, almost under his breath, before continuing. "I have to get to my room, I have a call with the Antarctic Expedition team in an hour."

"It's been good seeing you, Jotaro～!" Sunnie said cheerily before her face contorted in what seemed to be confusion and some slight discomfort. Then, realization hit. "BABE," she whispered, eyes like saucers, "The kid's kicking!!"

Dio immediately dropped down and knelt by his wife, placing a large hand on her stomach, a short moment passing before his eyes lit up. "Oof, that's a strong child. I expect nothing less." He smiled proudly. "Especially considering who the parents are."

"When's the kid due?" Jotaro asked as he gathered his things into his briefcase.

"December," Sunnie smiled, "So, soon enough."

Dio laughed softly. "Soon? Love, that's several months away yet."

Her smile turned cryptic. "The people that get it, get it."

Her husband rolled his eyes. "You say the strangest things sometimes." As the Joestar began to walk to the door, Dio stopped him. "Jotaro?"

Jotaro looked back at him over his shoulder, and they shared a sustained moment of eye contact that, refreshingly, wasn't fueled by animosity and rage.

"…Again, thank you." Dio finally said.

Jotaro nodded to him and left, leaving the two expecting parents to their own devices.

#:)#SunnieD #my writing

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sunshine-shitposts · 2 years ago

Text

sperare

Masterlist.

cw: sickness, mentions to meds, pregnancy mentions, mentions to past childhood trauma.

collab with the lovely @softlimefluff!! ty for your patience and care, aribaby uwu

Knocking on the studio door, Ari doesn’t wait for a response and walks right in, phone clutched tightly in her palm. Rohan sighs in frustration, pulling his pen away from the panel he’s inking and glares over. Frowning, Ari waits by the door, cheeks puffy and eyes red.

“I hate to barge in, Han, but there’s an emergency.”

Taking his glasses off, Rohan rubs his hands over his face, pushing his headband up.

“What. What’s wrong?”

“The. Twins…”

Keep reading

#AriHan #GioLena #OGJDNJ AAAAH #AAAAAAAAAH I'M SCREECHIN #friends writing

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sunshine-shitposts · 2 years ago

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After Dark (AriHan)

A/N: THIS IS SO MANY MONTHS LATE... I started this for Rohan's birthday back in June and it took until now to finish. Was feeling nervous, but it's done now!!!! title reference

C/W: stand play, petnames like baby, pretty boy, etc, use of vibrators, squirting, oral (f stand on m), swallowing cum, bondage (but only as a harness and not for restraining), pegging (includes prep, mention of medical gloves, lube, etc), use of stand to control orgasm, overstimulation, good aftercare, oral (m on f). That should be everything, but ask to tag if necessary <3

A familiar routine, now less embarrassing than the first time; the cab, the elevator ride to the room… It seemed as if the Kishibe couple's birthday tradition was becoming love hotel trips~

If the first theme had seemed over the top, the current room Ari and Han walked into stole the show. Decorated in deep shades of blue, purple, and Pink, the room had a space theme - the Main area had shimmering star lights in soft twinkling colors, while another wall had neon painted shooting stars and a black light. The "star" of the show, however, was the circular bed in the center of the room, dim light projected from above making it look like a swirling galaxy.

"Ahhh!! It's perfect!!" Ari grinned, rolling her bags inside after Rohan and shutting the door.

"It's quite. Something." Rohan looked around, taking everything in, then relaxing his shoulders as he adjusted to the privacy.

Walking up behind Rohan, Ari slipped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his back. "Are you excited for tonight? I know we've been planning this for a while."

Nodding slowly, Rohan breathed out a long sigh, focusing on the feeling of Ari's touch and warmth close to him.

"You know we can still change plans if we need to, Han."

"I'm ready. Promise. I asked for this."

"You did, but I want you to be comfortable."

Rohan was quiet for a moment, figuring out what to say, then spoke, softly but with confidence. "Ari, if it's with you, I don't have anything to worry about. I know you'd never hurt me unless it was consensual."

Ari nodded, nuzzling into his back again. "To be honest, I'm kind of nervous… I know you probably should be the nervous one, since it's you who's getting pegged~"

Turning around to stare down at Ari, Rohan's cheeks flushed deeply, a slight heat radiating from his skin as he nodded.

"I mean, the plug is helping but it feels… Weird. Tight but… Kinda good."

Ari smirked at her husband, breaking into a grin and grabbing his shirt to pull him into a kiss. He gave in easily, moving both his hands to her waist, holding her close as she held his face in both her hands.

Pulling away suddenly, Ari looked up at Han. "Wait, did we ever agree on a safe word?"

Rohan hummed, shaking his head no. "I guess we've never done anything that pushed us too far before."

"We should make one. Just in case it's too much or too painful."

Scrunching up his mouth, Rohan folded his arms. "What, don't think I can take it?~"

"N-No! It's just. New. And we'll have to go slow… and.” She rushed through her next words, talking with her hands. “I want you to always have an out, even if we're mid way… You deserve the right to withdraw consent if you realize it's not what you want."

Nodding, Rohan placed a warm hand on Ari's cheek. "And that's why I love you." Stealing another kiss, Rohan slid his other hand to Ari's chest, squeezing gently. "How do you feel about peony?"

"I like it. Simple. Nothing we'd use otherwise during…" Blushing, she grinned up at Han. "You know~"

"We've been together over 2 years and you're still shy??"

"Guess I'm talented~"

Rohan chuckled, running his fingers through his wife's hair. "Let's get unpacked. Food should be here soon."

"Mmmmh."

Finding her suitcase, Ari hefted it onto the bed and began unpacking, putting on a playlist from her phone while she worked. Stealing glances of Rohan as he focused on unpacking, Ari watched quietly, still marveling that this was the life she had.

"Hey…"

Rohan looked up at Ari's call. "Hm?"

"Daisuki ♡"

Smiling and shaking his head, Rohan looked back down at his suitcase murmuring a soft "daisuki" in return, warmth filling his chest.

In the next moment, a knock sounded at the meal door, signaling their dinner had been delivered. Ari walked over, grabbing the tray from the portal and bringing it to the table--the small kitchen area looked like it had been taken directly from a futuristic scifi movie with clean lines, sleek metals, and smooth white quartz.

Heaven's Door floated over, glancing at the meal. "Um… Ari?"

She glanced up, grinning when she saw Heaven. "Yeah?"

Glancing over his shoulder, his cheeks shimmered, and he took off his hat. "Would Hearts like to come out for a bit while you two eat?"

At her name, Hearts on Fire immediately appeared, tackling Heaven's Door to the ground with a hug. "I MISSED YOU!!!!!"

Heaven laughed, laying with his back on the floor as Hearts nuzzled into his chest. "You know you can come see me anytime, baby."

"I know but we're always so busy…"

Rohan walked over, smiling down at the stands. "Since it's summer, we're trying to get better about that. Sorry this year has been so chaotic. With Ellie and the anime and teaching, it feels like we barely had time just to relax."

Looking in the fridge, Ari found bottles of water and grabbed two out, handing one to her husband. "This is our way of celebrating, right?~"

Accepting the bottle, Rohan nodded. "Yeah. Birthday. Finishing big projects. And you nailing that SPW meeting, Ari~"

"Much to celebrate~" She winked, sitting down at the table. "Let's eat before it gets cold."

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, Han. I'll be right back."

Rohan watched as his wife grabbed a bag and slipped into the shower room, cheeks heating up again at the thought of what she might be changing into… Hot damn.

"Master, shall I tell Hearts all the naughty things running through your mind right now?? Give Ari a tease while she's changing?"

Getting redder, Rohan nodded. "Yes, but whisper."

"Of course~"

Walking to the bed, Rohan made sure all their bags were stowed away and sat down, pulling out his phone to type a note with new ideas for Pink Dark Boy. Laying back onto the bed, Rohan tapped quickly, making categories for characters, settings, and themes. By the time he had started outlining the next chapter to ink, Ari had snuck quietly out of the bathroom, finding him lost in work.

Since teasing him was one of her great joys, Ari kneeled between his open legs, leaning forward to kiss his exposed bulge through his pants.

Rohan had been so focused that the shock of Ari's kiss made him drop his phone directly onto his face. "Ow!!!" Hissing, Rohan grabbed the device, rubbing his nose and sitting up to stare at Ari. Smirking, all she said was, "Oops~" and leaned down to place another targeted kiss.

Reaching a hand down, Rohan dug it into her hair, pulling her gently back. "It's my birthday, sweetheart, let me see how pretty you look~"

Standing slowly, teasing him with a view of her chest, she pouted, putting her hands on her hips. "You were working again. On your birthday. You need a break."

Ari was wearing a sheer pink lace set with a coordinating pink wing harness and some black leather accents like a pair of gloves, a choker, and a small set of horns.

"shit."

Rohan's pants grew tight quickly and Ari giggled, bitting her lip. "I see it's working on you~ This is more fun than work anyway."

Walking forward, Ari climbed onto to bed, taking his phone and gently laying it on the side table, switched to “do not disturb.” Glancing behind her, she saw Rohan admiring her butt and thighs from this angle and she wiggled them playfully, showing off for him.

"Ari, please. Stop teasing."

"That's what I do best tho…" She frowned, wiggling her hips again, then hopping off the bed.

"For that, I'll tease you even more~" Calling Hearts over, Ari whispered into her ear, both of them giggling after. "Yes, I can do that~ Absolutely~" Hearts disappeared for a few moments, then returned, in a similar set of lingerie to Ari. "I did my best from memory, Ari. Is this okay?"

"Oh, it's perfect. Shall we?" Digging into her bag, Ari produced a pink bunny vibrator, the larger end slightly curved. "Heaven, could you help me pull the big chair over?"

Rohan glanced between them, curious to see how things would work. "So am I just staying clothed this whole time?" Hearts on Fire approached him, shaking her head. "Of course not! Let me help you." Hearts fell to her knees, eagerly grabbing at his belt and getting it off, then unzipping his slacks, pulling them off with his help and leaving behind his pen nib and greek key briefs and a very noticeable bulge.

"Oh. You're excited?"

Rohan pursed his lips, giving one nod with flushed cheeks. Hearts giggled, tracing her fingers over it and earning a small hiss, transforming into a moan. "Pretty boy~" Reaching for his shirt edge, Hearts tugged. "This too, c'mon."

By the time Rohan was down to his boxers and Hearts was putting his socks into his suitcase, Ari had set up the arm chair with a towel on the cushion. When he finally looked over, Heaven had raised the room lights slightly and Ari was sitting in the chair, legs spread open over the arms and the vibrator in hand. "Hearts, you have free reign. Do as you please. But leave his ass for me~"

"Yes, miss~"

Glancing up at Rohan, Ari smiled, seeing how turned on and shy Rohan was getting. Reaching down, Ari touched at the slick already pooling at her entrance and rubbed some on her clit, easing the toy to rest at her slit and pushing gently, working to slowly ease in before turning the machine on.

Whimpering, Rohan watched, bucking up from where he sat. "Hearts, please. If you're my relief, do something. I c-can't…"

"You watch, sir.~ I'll help."

Tucking her fingers into Rohan's waistband, Hearts slipped them down to his ankles, staring at his cock, admiring the pretty reddish brown tip and small drips of precum leaking down the side. "You really do need some help. That looks painful." She frowned, swiping her finger over the tip and Rohan shivered, feeling the heat of her shimmering energy.

"Please put me inside you somehow, Hearts. Mouth. Cunt. Anything will do. I just need that pressure. Need… Need your—“

Ari whimpered, adjusting the toy to get it more directly on her clit, watching as her stand stroked Rohan gently, then slipped him into her mouth, pressing her nose down to the base of his cock. Choking slightly as her stand worked, Ari felt her throat tighten, fighting back her own gag reflex. Breathing slowly, Ari swallowed hard, closing her eyes to focus on the sensation between her thighs.

Peeking an eye open, Ari watched as Rohan threw his head back, chest heaving as Hearts worked faster, grabbing at the bed cover and making soft moans. Furrowing her brow, Ari worked faster on herself, pressing as deep as she could safely go, moaning Rohan's name between "kimochi" and "yabai."

Getting to his peak quickly, Rohan whined, stomach muscles flexing taut. "Ari, I'm… Hearts I can't. Can't hold unless Heaven…"

Calling out, Ari whined too, red as she squirted a little with the pressure of the toy. "It's okay baby… You can. You can. So close. Baby."

Resting back onto the bed, Rohan grabbed the covers tight and released, his cum shimmering inside of Hearts who had made herself semi-transparent at Ari's request. Rohan had always been fascinated by anatomy, and Hearts was no exception. When he could breathe again, Rohan sat up, starting at Hearts as she messily licked around his cock, bubbling and gagging on the leftover cum.

Eyes wide, Rohan looked up at Ari, just in time to her her release, along with a gush of fluids, wetting the towel below her as she yelled his name.

Hearts giggled, finally licking Rohan's cock clean and her fingers as well. "That was fun~"

Running his fingers through Hearts' hair, Rohan laughed and flopped back onto the bed "Sugoi…" Panting quietly, he closed his eyes, only opening them when he felt the bed next to him depress.

"Hi baby." When he opened his eyes, Ari was above him, smiling and sitting on her knees. "Was that fun?"

All he could do was nod, leaning into Ari's touch as she pushed his damp hair back.

"Do you need a break before we do more?"

"Please."

Having changed into shorts and a tank top, Ari began fastening her chest and hip harness, leaving the strap on slot empty for the moment. Rohan walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Wordlessly, Rohan nestled into her shoulder, holding tight and enjoying the warmth of the moment.

"Do you want Hearts to be with Heaven while we try this next part? She can help you stay calm with her light."

"Mmmh. Yeah. I do. I'm not really scared, but. I think I'll tense. Do we still have any of that sake??"

"Yeah, it's in the fridge. I think we have a sparkling peach?"

Hearts on Fire had already walked over and was returning with a can for each stand user, bowing slightly as she handed them off. Ari cracked hers open, putting her other hand on her hip and walking over to the open case on the counter. "We have to pick a size for the strap, Rohan. I know we had a few options. We can start small and work up, but there's like. Textures and stuff you need to choose."

Taking a long swig of the sake, Rohan walked over, staring at the brightly-colored options in the carrying box. "Maybe like a 5in to start? With the ridges. Just so it feels a little better when you push in? If we need to swap bigger or anything, I'll use the safe word."

"You don't have to be shy if you're a size queen~"

Taking another long swig, Rohan's cheeks heated up again. "Yes well, we'll find out, won't we~"

“Give me a minute, I’m going to make a stardust harness. You can watch if you want~”

Nodding, Rohan sat at the dining table again, sipping from his can slowly as he watched Ari take a long length of soft purple rope, tying carefully and testing the tension as she formed a star shape over her chest. Grabbing a pair of shears out of her luggage, she sat them on the sidetable. “For emergencies.”

“Right.”

Standing and leaving his half empty can behind, Rohan walked to Ari, touching the shibari work gently. “So it did work for Heaven to embed the video instructions in you. He’s learning so much with his enhanced layer skills.”

“It worked perfectly! I think it’s super pretty.” After twisting and moving with the rope harness to show off, Ari walked to the suitcase once more. “Rohan, grab a towel? I’ll get everything set.”

When he disappeared, Ari pulled out some paper towels, silicone safe lube, and medical gloves, bringing them over to the bed. Walking back to grab the right toy, she held it in her hands to warm it up as Rohan spread a towel over the comforter.

“Hey, Han… Just sit down now and let me do all the work for prep, yeah? You can trust me.”

“It’s in your hands, Ari. I’m… I’m yours.”

Ari smiled, calling out to the stands next. “Hearts. Heaven. I’m depending on you to keep the mood chill. Play music. Use your lights. Whatever you need to do.”

“Of course, mistress~” Hearts beamed, pulling Heaven into a hug from behind and switching her lights to blue and pink, holding him close. Heaven’s Door held up Ari’s phone, putting on one of the curated playlists with a grin.

Grinning back, Ari gave them a goofy thumbs up and turned back to Rohan, almost laughing with how happy she felt, seeing him in front of her.

Hair messy. Eyes soft and dark. Lips red from their desperate kisses earlier.

All hers.

Hopping onto the bed next to him, Ari pulled him down as the mattress bounced, kissing him breathlessly. Grinning onto his lips, she dragged her fingers over his scalp, locking a leg over his hip and grinding gently against him as they kissed. Rohan moaned into the kisses, letting the intensity build before pulling away to catch his breath.

“Take off your boxers and get on all fours, Han~ I need to prep you.”

Following her instructions, Rohan blushed into the blanket, biting his lip as he waited for something to happen.

Snapping her gloves on, Ari tugged at the plug, removing it carefully and setting it aside to clean later. After warming up lube on her fingertips, she circled Rohan’s sensitive hole and slipped one finger inside, hearing him inhale sharply, but continuing, slipping a second finger inside and scissoring them slowly.

“It’s okay, baby.” Rubbing her other palm over his lower back in comforting circles, Ari leaned forward and kissed his back, pausing to give Rohan time to adjust. “Do we need to stop?”

“N-No. I’m.” Another inhale and a long breath out. “I’m okay. Keep going.”

“Good boy~” Removing the gloves and tossing them aside, Ari secured the strap and grabbed another handful of lube warming it by slicking the toy in and out of her palm. Pouring a little extra lube over Rohan’s tight hole, she sat up to her knees, prodding the tip of the strap against him and hearing him whine.

“Just. Start. Please get. Get on with it.” Rohan was panting already, clenching his thighs and grabbing at the covers.

“Okay. I’m going slow. I’ll tell you when it’s all in.”

“Nnnnh, just. GO!”

“Impatient! For that I should make you wait longer~~”

Rohan protested, looking back at her with a frown.

“But I won’t.”

Shifting forward, Ari watched the tip disappear inside her husband, desperate mewls already falling from his lips as she eased in slowly, inch by inch, finally bumping up against the base. “Okay… It’s in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, Rohan chuckled, lifting his head up. “It’s not as bad as I imagined.”

“Well we did prep, darling~” With the last word, she pulled back and thrusted forward, making him whimper into the bed again.

“Please. More. I want more. Move now.” Whining her name, Rohan choked out short moans, pressing back into the strap.

Leaning down onto his back, Ari kissed his shoulders, biting his ear gently. “With pleasure~”

Rohan shortly was reduced to a panting, whimpering mess, losing his mind in the haze of pleasure mixed with dull pain. He felt Ari reaching around his stomach, down to his cock, and wrapping her hand around him, stroking in time with her thrusts.

“Nnnnh!!”

Whimpering out desperate moans, Rohan jerked into her grip, overstimulated from both sources of pleasure.

“Heaven!” Ari called out, “Write a command please.”

“What shall I write?”

“Rohan Kishibe cannot come until Ari says he can.”

Letting out a long whine, Rohan felt his upper arm open, Heaven writing the command, then it sealing back up.

“It’s done.”

Ari leaned forward again. “Now we can have more fun, Kishibe-sensei~”

Before he could reply, Ari resumed her thrusts, stopping all the way in to circle her hips and stroke his cock faster. The sensation was overwhelming, and even though he couldn’t come, Rohan felt as if he was on the verge of bursting— his senses flooded with the sensation, sending shockwaves of pleasure into his skin.

Between whispered praises, moans of desperation, and the wet slap of hips meeting skin, Rohan reached his limit, visibly shaking and tears welling up, collecting on his eyelashes.

“Baby…” Ari paused, giving him a moment and reaching to wipe his tears. “We can stop for a minute if you need it…”

“I can take it!!”

“You don’t have to thoug—“

“I SAID I can take it. Keep going. Don’t stop unless I give you the safeword. Don’t.”

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Keep going.”

Ari bit her lip and nodded, feeling a bit guilty, but trusting his judgement. If this was what he wanted, she needed to listen to his wants more than her fears.

Swallowing back her anxiety, she kissed down Han’s back, quietly releasing Heaven’s restriction and reaching down to stroke his cock again. If she could relieve part of the pressure, it would make the strap more bearable and give him a partial reward.

Breathing slowly on top of his back, she stroked lazily, teasing the tip with her thumb. “Gooooood boy.”

Rohan tensed, breathing out hard through his nose. “Keep going, Ari. I thought I told you to move.”

“I will. But you’re in my hands tonight. You said you trust me, right?” Gripping at the base, she squeezed tight, milking his cock in short, tight strokes.

“Nnnnh, I—“ Interrupting himself with a moan, Rohan lowered his head to the sheets, gripping at the blanket in his fists. He couldn’t deny how good it felt to get some relief, even though he wanted to show off just how much he could take.

Biting into his shoulder, Ari bucked her hips slightly, tapping the base flush with Rohan each time, grazing his prostate with each slow grind.

“Yabai… Yabaiyabaiyabai!” Rohan whined out, overstimulated again, sweat dripping down his forehead and shoulders. “So… So… good—gghhh!!!”

Before he could say more, he released ropes of hot cum onto his stomach and Ari’s hand, clenching down around the strap. Frozen there on all fours, shaking, Rohan let tiny mewls out, unable to catch his breath yet.

Pulling the strap back, Ari slammed back in, making Rohan’s whole body jolt. He already felt like his senses were on fire, heightened by the pleasure of his release. Each thrust sent him further over the edge until it was unbearable.

“Peony!!! Ari, peony. P-please.”

She nodded, pulling all the way out, leaving Rohan to pulse around nothing and collapse onto the towel, a mess of cum, sweat, saliva, and bruises.

Getting off the bed, Ari washed off her hands and removed the strap, coming back with a damp washcloth for Rohan. Wiping down his ass first, then his stomach and cock, she set the dirty towels aside and pulled the sheets back, laying with her husband under the covers.

“You did so well, baby.”

He nodded weakly, hiding his face into her chest still.

“Do you feel okay? Can I do anything?”

He shook his head no, clinging tightly to her. She pet his hair quietly, pressing soft kisses to his face and shoulder and praising him again until his breathing evened out.

“I’ll be back in a second, Han.”

Slipping out from the covers, Ari grabbed a bottle of water and ibuprofen from their luggage, coming back and getting Rohan to sit up and take them. Smiling, she pressed a warm kiss to his forehead and held his cheek.

“Daisuki.”

He nodded, still a bit nonverbal, and gazed up at her with warm eyes, reaching out a hand to hold hers. She kissed his knuckles, rubbing her thumb comfortingly over the crook of his thumb.

“Let me get this harness off and we can rest for a bit.”

Rohan watched silently as Ari did the steps in reverse, carefully unweaving the harness and coiling the rope again to prevent tangles. Taking her tank and shorts off, she crawled into bed, only then realizing that her panties were soaked with slick.

“Ugh, I should change…” She glanced down, then back up at Rohan who was staring intently at the damp spot. “Unless, you wanted me to just take them off?~”

Nodding emphatically, Rohan grabbed at the waistband as Ari raised her legs, letting him slip them down and toss away, before diving instantly down to lick at the pool of slick between her thighs.

Ari dug her hand into his hair, tugging gently and massaging his scalp as he licked stripes slowly over her folds, taking pleasure in caring for his wife in return.

The push/pull of reciprocity was a constant dynamic for them, wanting to give as much pleasure as they received—an outpouring of love for one another.

Rohan eventually slowed his licks, trying to stay awake, but getting sleepy, laying onto her thigh. Ari giggled, petting his hair again. “C’mon, Han, you need to come up to the pillows.” He shook his head no, closing his eyes and resting on her pillowy thighs instead.

Shaking her head, she laid back, staring up at the ceiling at the star patterns above.

She was so in love.

#SCREAMING YELLING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #GOOD SHIT YES MHM GOOOOD👌👌👌🤌🤌🤌👌👌🤌👌🤌 SHIIIIT 👌👌🤌🤌😳😩😩🥵🥵🥵#AriHan #spicy #SCOVILLE ALERT #friends writing

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sunshine-shitposts · 2 years ago

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Etéreo | GioLena

cw: food mentions, pregnancy talk with minimum medical stuff.

Esme announcement!!

Throwing a leg over his, Lena shifts, groaning until Giorno's arm wrapped around her shoulders, helping her settle down against him.

“Babe,” she mumbles, voice laced with sleep. “Can we get up? I want scrambled eggs, with, uh… Mustard on top.”

Giorno hums, stirring awake upon her request: cracking an eye open, he glances at the clock, barely recognizing the digits displayed there: 6:11 AM.

And then he frowns, fully waking up and looking down at her —her hair sprawled across his broad chest and her hand tracing patterns on his side, her leg thrown over his: and last, he takes the time to feel her smaller frame against his, her warmth and perfume and the feeling of her soft hand touching him.

“Uh, sure honey.”

Shifting, he removes himself from underneath her until she's cuddling his part of the comforter, closing her eyes and dozing off.

Making sure she's tucked in, Giorno leaves the room —brow furrowed in worry, wondering just what's going on.

While she does like scrambled eggs, she hates mustard. Why would she ask for that? Because he likes it? Then again, she had been clear she wanted to eat them herself. Besides, the mix sounded like a big no.

Coming to a stop in the middle of the hall, he pats his pants in search of his phone —and, unable to find it, he turns around and walks back into their bedroom.

She's asleep, pink cheeks and soft features: all relaxed and comfortable. Safe.

Forgetting about the phone, Gio takes a seat by her side, reaching a hand out just so he can run his fingers over her cheekbone, eyes softening: heart beating faster.

Maybe…

“Lena," he calls, soft like winter. Honeyed. “Baby, wake up?”

She frowns, shifting and opening an eye. “Mhm?”

And he lies: hoping it doesn't hurt later. “Baby, you were asking for scrambled eggs with mustard. Do you still want them? I'm gonna cook breakfast."

She frowns, stirring awake immediately: “Gio, I don't like that.” and she tenses, sitting up through big eyes and a wide smile, “Do you think…?”

Giorno smiles, chuckling as his face starts to feel warm. “Maybe. Wanna call Dr. Bocelli?”

She nods, rushing to pull the comforters off her and, once she manages to do so, throwing herself into his arms.

Sitting down on his lap, her arms wrap around his shoulders while he sets his hands at each side of her hips, eyes sparkling: hope, love, excitement.

His eyes, green with a streak of yellow, fixate on her features, and then travel down to her belly. A careful, trembling hand reaches out and he asks in a whisper, unsure: “Can I?”

Lena's lip trembles when she nods, reaching out to place a hand over his forearm, letting him guide their movements until his warm palm presses into her hip, where his fingers sneak under the satin dress and his hand keeps going up.

Resting at her belly, Giorno's hand stays there, gently. There, he feels the flow of stand energy spread through him and stream down his arm, forearm, wrist and last, his palm. There, Gold Experience Requiem's energy disperses.

Life had a certain warmth to it during the first stances —it could not be related to any biological phenomenon, nor the medical criteria; there had been many times when he had created life. He knew the warmth within.

Tears blurry his vision when he looks back into Lena's eyes, unable to utter a word —his voice does not come out and she's suddenly holding him, trembling against him.

Holding her close, Giorno rubs Lena's back, twisting his head to kiss her shoulder, and only there Gold Experience Requiem slips out, mumbling:

“I sense life, Mistress.”

Lena chuckles, the sound comes out hoarse, filled with excitement and happiness. “Thank you, Goldie.”

Giorno chuckles into her skin —there, she can feel his lips curl up against her skin: and then he speaks up, light and warm; happy. “Life, Lena. There's life in there.”

“Are you sure?” she mumbles back, shaky fingers tracing the outline of his back muscles.

Giorno pulls back enough to look her in the eye —and only there he notices the tears flooding her eyes, about to fall if she blinks: only then does he truly notice her trembling hands as she cups his face. “I am, but we can call Dr. Bocelli. Make sure it's true.”

She nods, letting go of his face just so she can drape her arms around his shoulders and hold him close. Leaning his head against her chest, Giorno's arms tighten around her hips upon the sound of her erratic heartbeat against his ear.

“Rest,” he mumbles into her skin, standing up with her in his arms just to lay her down and, pulling the comforter over her, his eyes soften and his voice comes out like the rumble of the sea in the silence of the shore at night, “—I'll call him, yes?”

It had been three days since Dr. Bocelli had welcomed them back into his office, following the protocols and, after a brief anamnesis and physical examination, the old man had called out his stand, letting Type O Negative carry on.

Today, Dr. Bocelli would deliver the results to the blood tests.

Reading over the pages, Dr. Bocelli's eyes show no emotions until he finishes. Nodding to himself as he takes off his glasses and places them down, his lips quirk up into a small smile.

“Congratulations, Don, Donna: you're pregnant. Two weeks.”

The old man waits, watching over the couple as their faces light up —Lena's nervous grin as she looks back at Gio, who blinks back tears: and he nods when they thank him, watching in silence as they leave.

When the door closes, a tear slides down his cheek —he couldn't believe he had gotten to see Giorno grow up. When he met him, the Don was eighteen, inexpert, emotionally constipated and somehow, there was an ounce of immaturity within him. Now, he was twenty eight, married, a father, and had grown into a wise, patient and emotionally intelligent man. A gentleman.

His wife was no different: when he met her, she was shy, insecure and barely spoke. And now she has grown into a confident woman, capable of standing up.

And he still couldn't believe he had the chance to meet the twins from the very first moment —and now, they would have a sibling.

Dr. Bocelli couldn't hold back his happiness: as he glanced up, hoping to see his son in the sky, all he saw were clouds, but that had been enough to reassure him his son was there. Happier than ever.

Grinning, Lena hums. “Do you think the packages will arrive in time? Or should we, you know, host a party?”

This time, in order to let their friends and family find out about the baby, Lena had suggested a surprise box: each couple or friend would get one, inspired on their likes and interests with a simple note asking for them to guess the good news; if they believe they had the answer, they'd have to send a message or call them to confirm.

Shaking his head, Giorno answers: “They will, don't worry. There are two little people we need to talk to, though.”

The twins.

Nodding, Lena turns around, watching the boys run around the living room —giggling and screaming. Two little bundles of joy.

Passing by, Giorno's hand finds hers, guiding her forward until they sit on the couch.

Giorno's smile warms her heart: and the boys, upon noticing their parents, rush to them between giggles, asking to be held by Gio.

Helping them sit on his lap, Gio starts, “Boys, there's something we need to tell you. Do you want to hear about it?”

Dante and Jovi nod, big hopeful eyes drifting between Gio and Lena.

Reaching forward, Lena places a hand on each of them, rubbing with her thumb. “You will have a sibling, Dante, Jovi.”

Jovi scratches the back of his head, arching an eyebrow; confused. Dante yells, “Saibl—siblin'?’

Gio nods, repeating slower. “You're gonna have a little brother or sister. Someone else to play and hang out with.”

Jovi nods, asking now while Dante frowns, trying to understand. “Ellie?”

Giorno nods, smiling. “Like Ellie, yeah.”

The twins stop, looking at each other and then —they grin, clap and laugh: joyful and excited. As they get too restless to stay in Giorno's lap, he sets them down, watching them run around and celebrate.

As he watches over them, Gio leans back, letting his arm rest around his wife's shoulders. When she settles down against him, he twists his head to kiss her forehead.

Then, as soft as silk and warm as the sun, Lena's fingers cup his chin, curling a finger down at her so he looks at her in the eye when she whispers, humorous. “What if it's a boy?”

Giorno smiles, “We'll call him Jonathan or Michael.”

“And if it's a girl?”

Giorno's smile widens, “Rebecca or Esmeralda. As you wish, my queen.”

Lena hums, cheeks red: chuckling as she rests her hand against his chest.

They just had to wait until the surprise boxes were delivered.

#OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OHKFNHEFBFDN #IT'S HAPPENINGGGGG #and the boys were 😭💖 so cute about it #friends writing #GioLena

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sunshine-shitposts · 2 years ago

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*dreamy sigh* fruit juice :]

#sunnie d ship dynamic

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sunshine-shitposts · 3 years ago

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Mira, mira, corazón, olvida el miedo que hay en ti. | GioLena drabble.

Title ref: San Lucas by Kevin Kaarl.

“I still want to dye my hair.” He said that night, right after finishing paperwork for a case —and as he looked up at his wife, her eyes found him. Exhaustion evident on her eyes and on the straight line her lips formed; but still, she held his gaze, nodding softly in a silent indicator that she was listening.

And so he kept going, taking a seat by her side and draping an arm around her shoulders, “I still want to see his reflection clearly: meeting Haruno again, you know?"

She hummed, shifting slightly so she could rest her head against his broad chest and trace a sharp manicured nail over the fabric of his shirt, above his pectoral.

“But I want to wait until I meet him.”

His confession stopped there, leaving back a small moment of strange silence until she hummed again in an inquisitive tone, paired up with a whisper of: “Who?”

Giorno hesitated, seeming to taste the name on his tongue even before he could pronounce it out loud. And when he did, the way it rolled off his tongue came out in a whisper, “Dio Brando.”

Lena stopped moving, almost like her breath had gotten caught on her windpipe until she hummed, sighing and resuming her caresses.

As he looked up at the ceiling, Gio kept talking. “I know he's not a threat. But I want to see myself in him —Polnareff… He's said so many times that we look alike. And I want to see my present self reflected on him when we meet: and once I'm done, I'll dye my hair and meet Haruno."

“... I mean,” her voice came out in a whisper. He had to focus so he could hear her. “You've done such a good job already buying the toys you couldn't have. And… You seem calmer, almost like there's a weight off your shoulders.”

“Mhm.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her forehead, closing his eyes and lingering there for a second before he mumbled out, “Yeah, I do feel different. Better.”

She hummed again, though he could hear the happy tune of it as her hand rested against his chest when she started rubbing up and down, almost like trying to soothe his heart. “'M glad, baby. You deserve it.”

Giorno felt his heart sink on his chest, beat faster and calm down when she melted against him with a sigh. When her face ended up pressed against the crook of his neck and shoulder did he realize she had fallen asleep.

He didn't have the heart to wake her up —so he leaned back, maneuvering until he sensed the position was comfortable for the both of them and, resting his chin atop her head, he allowed himself to drift off.

#OOOUUUGH AAAAUGGH IT'S SOFT 😩💖💖💖#giolena #friends writing

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sunshine-shitposts · 3 years ago

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The Road Ahead

A/N: this is so late this is sO LATE I'M SO SORRY AUUUGH 😩😩 I'm just getting back on a medication regimen that works with me and I'm getting my motivation back. Chronologically this woulda happened in April, right after the discovery of the pregnancy

"You're kidding," Catherine deadpanned, standing almost frozen in her front doorway as she glared at her visitors.

"Uhh, nope," Sunnie laughed as Dio crowded over her protectively, his large hand placed on her lower abdomen as he flashed a smug grin, "Medical wing confirmed it this morning. I'm pregnant."

"I just returned from DC," Catherine said after a deep breath, "Just got my luggage in the door, just kissed my sweet, sweet husband hello for the first time in a week, and you two troublemakers show up on my doorstep giving me news like this??"

As she raised a hand to run it down her face, exasperated, Dio chuckled, teasing her. "Are you not going to invite us in, Catherine? Surely you're a better host than that."

"Yeah–yes. Yes of course," she huffed, standing to the side and welcoming the both of them. "Come on in. We've got some talking to do."

The Gupta's house was large—large enough to be a mansion, but the word 'mansion' wouldn't feel quite right: 'mansion' leaves the impression of something daunting and impersonal, and the Gupta house was far from those things. The reason their house was so big wasn't technically for them, however: the couple was childfree by choice, which confused the real estate agent as to why they wanted a large home with many rooms and a large backyard. Janpreet was one of the middle children of a family of eight siblings, and he had already amassed a gaggle of nieces and nephews and niblings, so they wanted a large property so they could host family functions and holidays and have enough room for all of them. The decor featured clean lines and bright colors, with patterned rugs and pieces from their multiple trips not only to India, but around the world as well. Neither Janpreet nor Catherine were believers in minimalism.

Janpreet Gupta was the embodiment of a doting stay-at-home husband. Noting his intense interest in the subject from a young age, his parents, who had immigrated to the States from India, taught Janpreet how to cook, and by God was he exceptional at it. The Gupta house, as a result, always smelled amazing: turmeric, garam masala, ginger, cinnamon, fenugreek, coriander, coconut—deep scents of roasted spices permeated their large house from the well-outfitted kitchen, which was filled with both top-of-the-line appliances and well-loved inherited woks and pots and pans. Catherine, who loved her husband dearly, made sure that the kitchen was one that Janpreet could indulge in his favorite hobby to his heart's content. Hanging on a peg near the walk-in pantry was an apron dorkily emblazoned with the words, "I love my girlboss wife".

And if you knew to look for it, there was a tiny, dirty scrap of paper with a hastily scribbled string of numbers framed on one of the counters in the kitchen. If asked about it, Janpreet would beam at you with his wide smile and round cheeks, saying, "That's my good luck charm!" He would then tell you about how he once, doing his best to conceal the nervous shaking of his hands, gave that very paper with his number on it to a certain stunningly gorgeous black woman who had walked into his parents' restaurant and immediately captivated him one rainy night years ago. Then he'd direct your attention to the framed photo next to it, of Janpreet beaming with that same wide smile, gazing lovingly at Catherine, a vision of beauty in golden jewelry and glistening gems and a red bridal lehenga. "It's a good luck charm that clearly works," he would inform you.

Janpreet glanced at that very scrap of paper as he crushed spices and ginger in his pestle, water boiling next to him, and he smiled.

Catherine, however, sat with the surprise guests in the living room, an unexpectedly heavy silence hanging over them. The only person who seemed affected by the weird atmosphere was Sunnie, who was wringing the bottom of her hoodie nervously. Dio sat next to her, arm swung over her shoulders happily, unphased by the awkwardness, and Catherine tapped her shoeless hose-covered foot against the rug as she gathered her thoughts.

"Dio, Sunnie, I'm not saying this is a bad thing. I'm actually quite happy for you both, and I know you'll make excellent parents, but…" Catherine leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes looking at Sunnie, then Dio, then Sunnie again. "Dio is a vampire. He's not human."

"Don Giovanna turned out alright, from what I know," Sunnie piped up, "I mean, I didn't spend that much time with him, but he seemed incredibly healthy and, y'know, besides having a Stand and being the leader of Passione, normal."

Dio froze, brows drawing down over his eyes. It was something he hadn't considered: the likelihood that the child wouldn't be completely human, the possibility that this could make for a more difficult pregnancy for his wife. He looked at her, clearly worried, and she caught his gaze, slightly unsure herself, before Janpreet entered with a tray, cups of his homemade masala chai balanced perfectly, and cut through the increasingly tense atmosphere with a contagious smile.

"The Don was conceived and born before Prime had consumed Joestar blood and gained access to the full scope of his abilities," Catherine stated pointedly, as both Sunnie's and Dio's eyes widened, "We're entering unknown territory now. This child will be born half human and half fully-powered vampire."

"I'm sure that, no matter what challenges your pregnancy might bring you, you'll be well-taken care of," he said, setting the tray down on the coffee table and handing Catherine a cup and kissing her cheek. He passed Dio and Sunnie their cups as well, and they thanked him as he sat in the chair next to his wife. "You've got Dio, you've got us, you've got the entire Foundation at your back," he continued, "You'll be getting the best care imaginable."

Sunnie's shoulders slouched, tension leaving them in a rush as she slumped against Dio. "You're right, Jan. Every pregnancy is a risk, really. This one might be a little weird, but it's nothing I can't handle. I'm a tough bitch, after all." She took a drink of the chai and hummed contentedly, looking up at her husband. "If things go sideways, Dio's here. He's saved my life before."

"Let's have faith that it won't come to that," Dio chuckled, relaxing as well. He sipped from his cup and took a deep breath, feeling settled from his brief bout of worry.

As the conversation drifted on at a leisurely pace and the chai was nearly finished, Sunnie had relaxed to lay her head in her husband's lap at his behest ("The mother of my child needs to take it easy, it's quite late.") and Dio stroked a thumb across her neck affectionately. There was a lull between them, and Janpreet had taken Dio and Sunnie's empty cups to the kitchen to clean. Sunnie was the one to break the soft silence.

"We can't raise a kid underneath the Foundation, Dio," she sighed, rolling over to look up at him, "A kid needs space to run and play and get messy. A kid needs trees and a yard and adventure."

"I agree, dove," Dio smiled, lifting a hand and combing his fingers through her hair, "But you needn't worry. I have a feeling it'll all work out."

Catherine considered her two friends for a moment, then set her nearly empty cup down. "Honey," she called, "Doesn't Sameena have that creek-side property somewhere?"

"Oh!!" There was clanging from the kitchen as Janpreet set down something metallic and rushed back into the living room, grinning ear to ear and eyes sparkling as his slippers slid across the floor before he came to a stop. "Yes!! It's a big house. There's a gorgeous garden and lots of room, especially for a growing family!"

Sunnie turned her head to look at him, curious but confused. "You know someone who just like, has properties laying around?"

Janpreet nodded. "My younger sister! She likes to find beautiful houses that may be torn down for property development, then save and restore them until the right person or people come along!"

Dio chuckled. "That sounds like an expensive hobby."

"My brother-in-law is a very rich man," Janpreet said, sitting next to Catherine again, "And he loves his wife dearly, so he supports her hobbies, no matter how pricey they are."

Dio and Sunnie glanced at each other for a moment, both considering the possibility, before looking back at their friends.

"So, there's a creek near it?" Sunnie asked, a curious glimmer in her eyes.

"Yes, lots of trees and plants and in the back there's a small creek, I'm sure it looks beautiful this time of year," Janpreet said excitedly. "I think Sameena called it a, uh… 'a magical three-story Victorian gem from the late 1800s'." At that description, Dio seemed to perk up, his eyebrows raising in interest, and Janpreet continued. "She was very happy when she acquired it, said it has a fascinating history."

"Does it, now?" Dio hummed, picking Sunnie's head up in his hand to keep it from being jostled as he crossed one leg over the other before setting her back down. "So this house was built around the time I was human, I take it."

"From what we've heard, yes," Catherine smiled, "It's very much up your alley, Dio. And I know for sure that you'd love the area, Sunnie."

Sunnie immediately grinned wide like the Cheshire Cat, eyes lighting up impishly. "Being near a creek and having lots of foliage means it's got tons of critters. Frogs, toads, snakes… I'm down to check it out if you are, big guy."

"And I'd love to take a look at it if you would like, Sunshine," he returned her grin, then looked at Janpreet. "Does it have turrets, perhaps?"

"Turrets?" Janpreet blinked at him in confusion. "…Rotating machine guns?"

Catherine laughed and patted his shoulder. "No, honey, tower-like rooms with pointy roofs." Janpreet's eyes blew wide with realization as Dio and Sunnie snorted.

"Ooh! Oh yes, I think at least one, maybe two," Janpreet recounted, "She sent the pictures a while ago, so I don't think I have them on my phone anymore, but it looks sort of like a place a modern day vampire or witch would live. I think you two would love it."

"So, should we get in contact with your sister, or…?" Sunnie trailed off, and Janpreet shook his head.

"I'll contact her for you and see if the house is ready to be shown. I know she's done some updating on it—air conditioning, modernizing the electricity, the works. I'll let you know, but I can't imagine her not agreeing."

Another comfortable silence floated in the room as Dio's hand settled on Sunnie's stomach, gazing at her fondly. She smiled back up at him.

"Moving out of the suite'll be good for us, won't it?" She reached a hand up, cupping the strong, sharp line of his jaw softly. "It's about time we get out from under the Foundation."

"It certainly is, my love," he agreed, reaching his hand back up to cover hers, "This opportunity could be a good change for both of us."

Catherine took in the sight of the two of them together and couldn't help the warm, gleeful feeling blooming in her chest. Sometimes it felt like just yesterday that she introduced them: a wary, broken woman and a still-ferocious monster of a man, both of whom needed healing in their own way. She hadn't expected them to find that healing in each other, but the second she saw that spark between them she'd hoped it would lead to something amazing, and they had far surpassed anything she could have hoped for.

"Well," she said, standing, "It's been a long day of politics and travel for me and I need sleep. Would you two like to stay the night?"

Sunnie sat up and nodded, grabbing her backpack at the foot of the sofa. "That's probably a good idea. I'm the one who drove us and I'm pretty tired." Dio joined her when she also stood, his hand rubbing her upper back.

"We'll take the safe room, of course," he said, grateful that Catherine had installed blackout curtains in one of the bedrooms, "Thank you both for talking with us about this. I must admit that I didn't stop to consider certain… special aspects of the pregnancy, and I'm quite embarrassed about my short-sightedness on the matter."

"Oh nah, dude, I totally didn't think of it either. That shit absolutely slipped my mind," Sunnie laughed, "And I'm the one that's carrying this kid!"

"It's easy to get caught up in the moment," Janpreet chimed in, picking up Catherine's empty cup, "I know whenever I learn one of my siblings is expecting another kid, I lose it for a little bit! The excitement just makes you feel like you're buzzing."

"It really, really does!" Sunnie giggled before she was wracked by a full-body yawn. Catherine's lips drew up in a half-grin.

"Get some rest, you crazy kids," she said, shooing them off while Janpreet shuffled off to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. Dio nodded to her and began to guide his wife out of the room, and Catherine paused for a moment, chewing on her lip. "Sunnie, Dio," she stopped them before they turned the corner, and they looked back at her. "I really am truly happy for the both of you. I meant it when I said you'll both be amazing parents. Janpreet is right; you have the Foundation at your back, no matter what happens."

Sunnie took a deep breath, centering herself, clearly still comprehending the fact that she was pregnant, then gave her boss a rosy-cheeked smile. "Thanks, Cat. It means a lot."

Dio inclined his head to her. "Your support is priceless to us, my dear friend. You have my gratitude."

They bid Catherine goodnight and left, and she chuckled wryly to herself. "I'd better get godmother privileges for all the stuff they've put me through, honestly."

#I FINALLY FINISHED THIS #also welcome janpreet to my story #janpreet is best boy. husband of the century. the bestest #SunnieD #my writing

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sunshine-shitposts · 3 years ago

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SPW Tokyo Briefing - May 31st, 2022

Tagging @sunshine-shitposts @dongiovannaswife <3 (SPW Dallas and SPW Naples)

“Mrs. Kishibe? We’re ready for you now.”

Nodding, I handed Ellie off to Rohan, giving her a forehead kiss as she fussed quietly. “It’s okay, shhhh. I’ll be back soon.”

Squeezing my hand, Rohan nodded. “Ganbatte.”

Reaching down, I grabbed my notes and followed the SPW employee down the tiled hallway, boots clacking on the polished tiles. I had opted for a blend of professional and artsy, with a loose dress, boots, and lots of detailed accessories.

Through a heavy set of double doors, we walked into a large meeting room. Heads from SPW branches across Japan sat at a board table and I was directed to the podium at the front, setting my notes out and taking the slide show clicker.

“Ohayo Gozaimasu. My name is Ariel Kishibe and I am one of the branch heads at the Morioh Speedwagon Foundation. I personally oversaw the construction and design of the branch, along with our architects, expansion crew, and my husband, Rohan Kishibe.

As you know, Kishibe-sensei donated the grounds to the Foundation, as his grandmother used to own the property as a hotel. We built onto the existing structure, with strict co-operation with historical preservation rules, and then added on a museum, research facility, library, and even a bio dome for growing fresh flowers and food.”

Clicking through the photos of the construction and facilities, I landed on our first statistics slide.

“Ever since our opening in September 2020, we’ve had a consistent stream of guests to the museum. You can see our numbers here on the table, tracking from our opening day until now. Not only do we have education about art materials, light, and color, the branch is also the permanent home to the Kishibe Rohan collection of original Pink Dark Boy works. This attracts a large number of guests on its own, along with exclusive merchandise in the gift shop.”

Taking a short pause, I moved to the next page of notes.

“We’ve also been working to open another gallery so we can have more traveling shows and bring in even more guests with exclusive shows from artists like Takashi Murakami, Yoshitomo Nara, and contemporary manga authors like Tatsuki Fujimoto, Q Hayashida, and Gege Akutami. We think that bringing in new shows from artists similar to Kishibe-sensei would generate even more traffic from visitors who have already experienced the museum.”

Clicking to the next slide, a picture of the cafe and Tonio and Okuyasu popped up.

“We also have an award winning cafe on site—given accolades by local and international travel websites— and can do official collaborative food and drink items to match with the new gallery shows. Our expert chef, Tonio Trussardi, has been training an apprentice, Okuyasu Nijimura, and together they’re able to brainstorm an impressive range of new culinary delights for the museum.”

Taking a pause, I glanced up at the room momentarily, continuing with the talk.

“The museum and its meeting areas have also become indispensable to the local community, acting as a place for young adults to start clubs, students and adults to try new art techniques through public classes, and even working with the local food banks to make sure any extra food from the cafe is donated back to the community.”

Clicking to the research area, I began the next section of my presentation.

“The museum has worked as the perfect cover for the SPW research going on at the location. Morioh has long been a hotspot for stand activity as a result of the stand arrows. While the arrowheads have now been transported to other locations for analysis and we have less malicious stand activity, we still have a large group of users in the city.”

Flipping to a slide of the many users and their stands, I put both hands on the podium.

“Many of the abilities that have been unlocked in Morioh have been highly beneficial to the user and to society at large. Healing powers, stands that can use sound as weapons or protection, stands that increase strength, that bring out the truth, or change people’s emotions. We have quite the range in our town and we’re proud of our stand diversity.”

On the next few slides, I had lists of research goals for the future.

“Now that you have some background on Morioh, I would like to address what research we have already completed and what we would like to expand in the future.”

Clicking to the first goal, I stepped to one side of the podium, detailing our Foundation’s mission.

“Our branch’s main focus is stand users and their potential for creation and growth. We’ve been keeping track of stand users who have gotten married and are now having kids, even my husband and myself. We’re curious to know if there’s any difference for users who have been pierced by the arrow versus born stand users—if there’s any impact on the conception and gestation of the child, their development while growing up, and if they also are stand users.”

On the next slide, there was a list called “stages of born stand users.”

“Along with Helena Giovanna from the Naples SPW Branch, we propose a list of stages for born stand users:

-Dormant

-Awakening

-Active

-Growing

-Developed

“We start with the foundational research that stands are the result of the virus found in the rare alien meteorite of Cape York, Greenland. We also know that stand arrows are made from polished meteorite from that same Cape York crater. If a potential user successfully survives the fever from the virus, the mutations unlock the natural ability to manifest and manipulate a stand.”

On the next slide, I had illustrated a diagram for potential combinations for stand user kids.

“We believe that if both parents have this mutation, then the offspring of the stand users will also have that same mutation, in a way, passing down or allowing the child to ‘inherit’ a stand. We also suppose, then, that every child from two stand users will have a stand ability from birth, even if it isn’t immediately apparent.”

Gesturing to the slide, I made note of other possibilities.

“We have a few children of two stand users under general observational checkups as they grow. Another stand user child is on the way as well, with a non stand user mother. We’re curious to see how this differs from the two arrow-born parents. In addition, we recently had two stand users get married who are interested in starting a family—one born from the stone mask and the other a stand user from birth.”

Grabbing the next pages of notes, I flicked on the next slide.

“We also have a case of a stand user mutated by Dio’s flesh bud under our care, working on a potential cure for his condition. We’ve been using UV rays along with the users’ own healing abilities to try to kill off the Brando cells, but have only had minimal improvement. Now that Dio has returned and is part of the Foundation, we’d like to have our branch analyze his DNA more and see if we could make progress in healing our patient.”

Bringing up the next to last slide, I steadied myself, thinking about Rohan and Heaven’s Door with a blush and reigning in my happiness to be more professional.

“Finally, we’ve seen the possibility for stand growth in users from Morioh and would like to document that process further—as with the stand users Koichi Hirose and his stand Echoes and Rohan Kishibe and his stand Heaven’s Door.

Furthermore, we have also noticed that if stand users are deeply connected to one another, their stands become more in sync—like souls resonating and bonding with one another. There have been multiple instances of stands from synced users being able to extend range or use each other’s powers to create a more powerful attack.

We would like to explore the implications for training stronger stands AND combination attacks.”

Centering myself at the podium again, I made eye contact with the branch leaders across the room.

“We at the SPW Morioh branch are requesting closer co-operation with other branches, specifically the Dallas branch and Naples branch. We already have personal connections with members there and would like to consult them more frequently for research purposes.

We hope that the research being done and programs in place are a tribute to the Foundation. We humbly request your continued support as we expand our research to benefit the stand user community. Thank you.”

Picking up my notes as the board members clapped, I bowed politely, then exited the room back through the same doors I had entered. Rohan and Ellie were right outside, waiting for me, and I ran over, pulling Rohan into a hug and burying my face into his shoulder with a grin.

“How did it go, Ari?”

Giggling, I took a second to calm down, holding onto Rohan’s jacket, then pulling away. “Perfect. We said everything we needed to say. Presented the Foundation, our focus, our ideas. I just hope that we have approval on everything and can secure more funding. And… I dunno, I hope Mr. Speedwagon would be proud of what we’re doing. He always wanted to support the Joestar family and. I hope we are too…”

Rohan smiled, kissing my forehead. “I think he would be, Ari.”

Taking my papers, Rohan handed over Ellie and I held her tight, bouncing her and walking down the hall with her on my hip.

“Mrs. Kishibe?”

Turning around, my heart leapt, seeing the attendant from earlier and worried something had gone wrong.

“Yes?”

“We’d like to present you with this.” Handing over a manilla envelope, the attendant smiled. “The Tokyo board was impressed with your presentation and have completely approved an expanded budget for your branch. We wish you good luck in your research this year and look forward to seeing your branch’s results in updates.”

“T-thank you!” Eyes wide, I took the packet, handing it over to Rohan. “Are we cleared to return home??”

“Yes. All your responsibilities are fulfilled here. The board simply wanted to know about the costs of the project in Morioh and why we had spent so much, but now they see the reasons and possibilities. You’ve won them over~”

Shoulders relaxing, a wave of relief washed over me. “Thank goodness.”

“We hope to see you again, Mrs. Kishibe, perhaps under less stressful circumstances.”

Nodding, I bowed politely, turning to walk with Rohan out of the branch.

“I didn’t get to hear any of it, but I know you nailed that~” Rohan grinned, waving the envelope. “I’m proud of you, babe.”

“Mama??” Ellie looked up, then snuggled under my chin. “Hungry.”

“Mmmm, yeah me too, sweetie. Let’s get some lunch.”

#YESSS #friends writing #AriHan #💖💖💖💖💖

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sunshine-shitposts · 3 years ago

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Dawn of Chronos

title ref: dawn of chronos by morth hatred.

CW: mentions of death, medical procedures and stuff, attempt to horror stuff, body horror, gun mentions, pregnancy planning, anxiety.

Set after coming home from Ellie's birthday party —Giovanna twins stand reveal, but the way it happens... It might be a destiny and time thing.

Gerechtigkeit law firm, Naples. 6:37 PM.

“Yeah, but consider this: is a dolphin smart enough to decipher hieroglyphs?” Abel Agreste wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a grin spreading across his face right as he finishes wiping the remaining whipped cream off his cheek and lips.

“Abel, I don’t think you get it —” Giorno sighs, exasperated, when his phone buzzes and he looks down at it, stopping mid sentence when another message pops up “Hold on.”

G. Mista: Giogio, we've got a problem

G. Mista: Matteo doesn’t look so good.

“Matteo’s in trouble, apparently.” Looking back at Abel, both take a moment to stare in confusion at the phone in Giorno's hands when the elevator rings, the doors slide open and Matteo kneels on the cubicle's floor with a gasp, unable to stand up even when Angelo tries to help him.

“Matteo!” abruptly standing up, Giorno rushes to the elevator, as the cubicle stays there, doors wide open letting him see Matteo and Angelo: the latter holding the first up through Matteo's rushed words.

Though Angelo was Matteo's nephew and his partner during his days in the business, he's now the one looking after him.

“Matteo,” placing his hand on his shoulder, Giorno's focus goes to the frantic, desperate shaking of his shoulders and the layer of sweat coating his forehead as his unmatched breathing pattern only gets louder.

“He’s been breathing like that and repeating your name over and over.” Angelo’s frown deepens when Matteo reaches out, grasping Giorno’s forearm into a strong grip, sinking his nails into his skin.

“They, they!—” gasping, Matteo’s breathing pauses and goes back after a short pause and a desperate gasp. Even his skin has started to turn pale.

“Okay,” Giorno quickly interrupts, holding him up and dragging him out of the elevator, “Abel, go get a bag and tell Mista we need to call Lena—”

“No!” Matteo's hands shoot forward, grabbing Giorno's shirt forcefully, “I don't need help! I need you two here! I need you to listen now!”

Giorno frowns, turning to Matteo with a stern look —though his heart beats erratically, he tries his best to stay calm as he helps Matteo into the couch, kneeling before him. “Listen, Matteo. We will listen to everything you have to say, but I need you to breathe normally first, okay? Can you match your breathing with mine? Like this.” taking a deep breath, he holds it in for a second, exhaling slowly —and repeats the motion as he stares into Matteo's eyes. Behind him, Abel has left the office, rushing to the reception.

Angelo stays there, unable to do anything but watch how Matto tries to follow Giorno's breathing —the tears pooling in his eyes spill slowly, leaving back traces.

And even when he's calmer and his breathing starts to match Giorno's, the old man still tears up.

“Please,” he chokes out, “Please hurry up and call your wife. It's about your sons.”

Giorno freezes, eyes the size of dinner plates as he stares back into Matteo's bloodshot eyes: his mind races with memories and thoughts, connecting the dots to an imaginary puzzle. “Is it a prophecy?”

Nodding erratically, Matteo's lips part when the sound of heels down the hall makes Giorno look back up. His wife comes into his office in a rush, clutching a first aid kit in her hand and her bag in the other. Setting both things on the coffee table, she kneels by her husband's side, shooting him a worried look, then looking back at Matteo and noticing his pale skin —almost yellow. “Signore Morte, how do you feel? Are you dizzy?”

Matteo's shaking hand reaches forward, touching Lena's shoulder. “I'm okay, just… I need you two to listen. It's about Dante and Jovi.”

After sharing a look, Giorno stands up, offering a hand out to Lena. As both sit back on the couch before Matteo, Abel comes back in, quietly guiding Angelo by Matteo's side. Then, the Capo stands behind his bosses, watching through the sudden meeting.

Matteo sighs, and the action seems to bring him to lucidity. “We've talked about my stand before, briefly. I should start by its name, which was chosen by itself. It's called Chronos Trigger: whenever I meet someone, it will choose to show me fractions of this person's future.

It happened when Giorno was a kid and saved me: I saw him as an adult, and I knew I had to help somehow."

A pause, and he looks down at his hands.

”It happened when I saw my own death, so I left the gang I was in —but then it spoke to me, it said no one can escape from Destiny. And then my brother passed away. Chronos' Trigger said it was my punishment for escaping Destiny.” His calm demeanor comes back slowly as he speaks, eyes fixed on the floor now —though he's calmer, his features show just how traumatic the events he recites have been. “So I took Angelo under my care, and kept living, guilty. Ever since we met again last year, I've been getting flashes of your kids.” Giorno takes a mental note about the wording —'kids'— and nods, even if Matteo is not looking.

“Those flashes were sweet, I must say.” Matteo finally looks up, looking between the Dons. “But last night Chronos presented itself before me, it spoke. It never does that. And… What it said was a prophecy. It's… terrifying. Chronos never misses, never fails —it works with Destiny, there's no way it will fail.”

Lena frowns, feeling a sudden rush of anxiety building up. “Can you tell us what it was?”

Matteo nods once again. Before he speaks up, Angelo frowns, shouting. “You're not telling them everything! Tell them, tell them you will get punished for this, too! You can't expect them not to know somehow —sooner or later, they will know!”

Abel tenses, glaring at Angelo from his spot. His hand moves his suit jacket aside, enough to reveal the gun holster by his waist. Mista had said Angelo had rage issues and could be impulsive. As soon as Angelo relaxes and sinks into the couch, Abel plays it off by holding his belt: that way it looks like he's just standing like that though he's still flashing the glock he carries.

“I suppose you're right,” Matteo nods, not failing to notice Abel's tense posture or the Dons' confused looks. “Chronos doesn't like it when I act up and change the future. Both Destiny and Chronos punish me. And this time, they were clear that I would suffer the consequences on my own flesh.”

Silence settles in for a second. Matteo doesn't fail to notice the worried looks of the couple and the nervous glances both direct to each other.

“How much can you say? Is there any way you don't get hurt while we get a little glimpse of it?” Giorno finally speaks up, trying to find a way out.

But Matteo shakes his head, chuckling. “Son, I'm an old man. Your sons are barely starting to live —I choose them above me.”

Angelo stands up, leaving quietly. Both in denial and defeat.

“Matteo,” Lena quietly interrupts. “Give us some time, okay? There must be a way to help you out, too. The Speedwagon Foundation, Passione and the Fondazione Venere work with stand users: there must be a way to save you. Because… you're implying you will not survive if you reveal that prophecy, am I right?”

Matteo smiles, softly. Like a proud grandpa. “Exactly, Lena. My moment has come, but if I don't do anything, so it will for the rest of you. Please listen carefully, it's… Confusing. And every detail matters.”

Turning to look at each other, Giorno and Helena nod. Looking back, both nod in Matteo's direction. The man hums, smiling softly at the couple before him, and closes his eyes so he can focus.

Slowly, the veins around his eyes, which should be hidden underneath his skin, pop out, visible through the first layer of skin and lighted up in electric blue tones. Static starts to sound through the room, low but constant: and last, when Matteo's eyes open, his usual brown orbs are gone, replaced by hourglass shaped pupils. The only thing left from a human's eyes is the sclera.

Chronos Trigger blinks slowly, twisting Matteo's lips into a smirk, which morphs back into a straight line.

“Within an unknown realm, a severed soul divided itself. From each part, a new soul was born. Where there was one soul once, two souls emerged.” its voice sounds almost robotic, keeping a certain deep undertone. Clear enough to be appreciated by those in the room.

“The power the single soul possessed at first was split into equal measures and poured into the two princes of the underworld's bosses offspring. One, is Reborn. The second is Rebuilt. The first will create matter, infringing physics. The latter, it will twist Reborn's creations to its will, and create that which is desired: this, too, will infringe every kind of knowledge there is. If used wrongly, no salvation will be possible. Reborn belongs to the oldest, Rebuilt to the youngest —together, they will rule,” Chronos' Trigger pauses, looking between Giorno and Helena with a twisted smirk, finishing off with a sour “—or destroy.”

Not a second has passed when Chronos looks up and its eyes roll into the back of Matteo's head, literally, leaving only two black cavities where Matteo's eyes used to be. Next, it opens its mouth, dislocating Matteo's jaw just to let out a scream, louder than any human could ever do —and as seconds go by and the ears of those listening hurt and sting, Chronos laughs, too. The sounds of laughter and screams mix up, getting louder and louder with each passing second.

And then it stops. All static is gone. Only silence is left.

“Holy fucking shit, son of a bitch.” Abel mumbles to himself, trying to see if his ears bled, but finding out it was only a matter of sensitivity and the only side effect is a faint sense of dizziness.

Rubbing at her ears, Lena looks aside, already finding Giorno's worried eyes on her.

Slowly, both turn into Matteo's direction, aware of the recent terrifying image Chronos showed them.

Matteo lays on the couch, leaning back as if he fell asleep, his eyes and jaw in place, almost as if nothing happened. Squinting, Lena can't find the subtle rise and fall of his chest or accessory muscles. Rushing to her feet, she kneels by his side on the couch, trying to find his pulse.

Fondazione Venere, Naples: urgencies wing. 11:39 PM.

Turning to Giorno, eyes the size of dinner plates, she screams. “Call an ambulance! He's not breathing and his pulse is barely there! —Gio, help me lay him down!”

Dr. Bocelli Enzo closes the door to Matteo's room, looking around the waiting room. There in the first row, the Don and Donna sit, holding their sleeping twins.

Walking up to them, he fiddles with the stethoscope hanging from his neck, letting it sit when he's before them.

“I'm afraid we can't do much. Type O Negative couldn't heal him. Everytime we reversed the damage, Chronos inflicted it back again. Right now, he's coursing with an infection —we've been trying with antibiotics, but nothing works: all we could do was control the fever… And give him fluid therapy.” a pause, and he looks between the couple, noticing their slumped shoulders, eyebags and the most noticeable detail, the desperation in their eyes.

He sighs, adding. “You can see him, but you need to know he's not only sedated, he's on painkillers and mechanical ventilation: his lungs are severely damaged.”

Lena looks up —Bocelli's sure the only time he saw her so utterly defeated was back when the twins were born; the difference resided on her expression. “How much time does he have left?”

Bocelli sighs, thinking about her question for a moment. Glancing between the two, he knows they are smart enough to know his answer, but he still replies. “His condition has no treatment —if anything, we could offer palliative care. But… Honestly, the best would be to let him rest. I can't explain how or why, but he looks twice his age. Maybe it's all part of the stand attack, but his body is weak: it's a miracle he's still alive.”

This time, Giorno speaks up, and when Bocelli turns to him, the resolve in his eyes surprises him. “Dr. Bocelli, please… Try to get him through the night while we try to find someone who can beat Chronos.”

Dr. Bocelli blinks, smiling. After all, the man before him was still the young boy he met years ago —the same boy who had challenged him many times before. “Is Kishibe Rohan an option?”

Giorno stands up, shielding Jovi from the blinding lights of the foundation's waiting room with his suit jacket draped over his shoulder. Holding the boy with one arm, he uses the other to extend it out, offering a handshake to Dr. Bocelli. “Perhaps. There are other options in my mind. Can we count on you?”

Dr. Bocelli nods, accepting the handshake. “Of course.” offering a hand out to Lena, he helps her stand up, as she too, shields Dante from the lights.

“Thank you,” she bows slightly. “Please call us, no matter the hour. Matteo is a part of our family.”

“I will, don't worry. Go home and rest.”

Both grin at him, “Can't promise anything.”

As they leave, Angelo approaches Dr. Bocelli. Quietly, he asks to stay the night with Matteo.

As they walk back to the car with Westwood guarding their backs, Lena asks, “Should we call Rohan, love?‘

“Man has to rest, he just finished teaching a class and has been taking care of a daughter. If we can't find someone within our reach, I'll call him.”

Giovanna residence, 5:45 AM.

Stacks of papers spread through the coffee table in the living room of the Giovanna residence, the couple sits on the floor, facing each other as they go through Passione's reports and classified information —the amount of stand users in the organization was horrifyingly big, possessing variety in range and power.

But it was all for battle, spying and strategy. Nothing about time and sicknesses.

Flipping through the newest member's information, Lena shakes her head to herself, mumbling under her breath a string of curses in her mother tongue. Closing it, she places the folder atop the ones they've already read.

Giorno watches her, though he's not really staring, more like thinking without really noticing where he's looking.

'Chronos is acting as an autoimmune syndrome within Matteo's body —it's accelerating the pass of time just so he can weaken his system, infecting him with some kind of virus, bacteria, or something else. If he looked so old and worn out it's because of the stand attack. The origin of the infection's still unknown, but maybe it came from the arrow. Chronos doesn't care about infecting others, just him.

If Chronos can twist his white blood cells, the antibodies from the stand virus have been mutated and transformed into violent viruses that can easily infect his system. It is aiming for a slow, painful death: it'll keep him on the edge as long as he can until Matteo can't take it anymore. It'll be either his fastened aging or the sickness.’

Sweeping her hair into a bun, Lena almost knocks off her empty can of Arizona, managing to catch it and place it back into the table, “We might have to call Han.”

Suddenly, there's a constant buzzing that stops being just a movement the second it can be heard through the silence of the living room. It's loud enough to bring Giorno back, looking around in confusion. His eyes land in Lena, and he frowns, confused over her startled expression.

Slowly lifting her hand, she points at his chest. “Uhm, Gio?”

Looking down, the arrow that had been resting against his chest buzzes uncontrollably, rising itself in Lena's direction. Ever since they started looking in the reports, Giorno had changed into his pajamas, opting to go shirtless. At that point, the arrow was a part of him.

But it had never done that. Pointing at someone out of nowhere. Not even when he tricked Julia Langley. As both stare at it, he can't help but wonder if it was choosing her now, or if it was just a matter of the situation.

Was it choosing her momentarily? Was it her will to help Matteo so strong to make the arrow resonate with her soul?

“Does this mean… The arrow wants to, like, help?” Lena looks up, brow furrowed. She's as confused as him.

“I don't know.” he admits then, feeling it pull at the chain around his neck, as if forcefully trying to get to her, “I don't even know if it's safe.”

“Well,” Lena grins, determined. And Giorno freezes, realizing she's serious. “If that means we can help Matteo, then let it come over.”

Giorno grits his teeth, jaw clenching painfully hard. The arrow keeps tugging at the chain, buzzing louder and moving in the air like a snake, “You could die, Helena. Requiem stands hurt.”

Her confidence doesn't falter, “Don't try to tell a woman what hurts the most, Giobaby. Let it come, hm? Whatever happens is up to my responsibility.”

“Le—” the arrow buzzes, harder, faster. Enough to break the golden chain around his neck. It flies through the air faster than he can see.

And it sinks itself into her chest: cuts through the skin like a needle, crawling underneath her skin until it disappears. Lena gasps by the end, clutching her chest right in the moment the air leaves her lungs and comes back in the blink of an eye —the sudden shock of her lungs struggling to handle the change of pressure from the sudden loss and recovery has her sweating and leaning over the table.

Rushing to her side, Giorno quickly sits behind her, pulling her back flush against his chest just so she can extend her neck over his shoulder when he makes her lean back. “Match your breathing with mine, honey. Stay with me, I know it hurts, but it'll pass.”

Her muscles give up. She relaxes completely into his hold, head rolling aside into her own shoulder. As her breathing evens out and the expression in her face twists into a peaceful one, Giorno reaches over, pressing into the pulse point of her neck —letting his fingers there, he takes a moment to feel the pulse under his fingerprints: its strength and presence.

But it all changes when Gold Experience Requiem slips out without his permission, looming over him. Looking up, Giorno realizes he's not looking at him but forward.

Following the stand's eyes, Giorno's eyes fall into the imposing figure before them.

Red eyes stare at him from behind the helmet —golden chains surround the stand, forming two massive sets of wings, another handful of chains, this time copper colored, hide the stand's body. The rest of gray chains crawl around the floor at the stand's feet.

Giorno stares back into the eyes of the being, knowing Gold Experience does the same. The figure before them is imposing, and although he doesn't know which abilities lay behind the barriers of chains he still waits.

Lena groans between his arms, waking up slowly —and he doesn't miss the way Wire's red eyes drift from him to her user.

He couldn't discard the possibility of this stand getting out of control like Chariot Requiem did.

“Woah, is that my stand?"

The question cannot be answered —the chains around Wire Requiem drop immediately, showing her golden armor. The bottom of it resembles a short skirt and, as the multiple layers of colorful chains drop from their previous positions, all of them wrap around her hips, creating a long, golden, red and gray skirt. The helmet morphs into bright red hair. And her pastel pink skin is littered in multiple markings that resemble Celtic symbols; said markings even reach her face.

The stand rushes to her user, floating before her with big eyes. “Mistress, it appears I've evolved with this.” Wire throws her head back, letting Lena see the arrowhead positioned right in her throat.

“Uh, yeah.” Lena holds onto Giorno's knees, unable to stand up from the dizziness that remains. “I… want to save Matteo. And the arrow reacted, somehow. You're a Requiem now, Wire.”

Wire grins, showing her now sharp teeth. “I know, I can feel it.”

“What exactly do you feel?" Giorno speaks up now, feeling Gold Experience Requiem float into the kitchen, retrieve something from the fridge and show up again by Lena's side. He hands her a water bottle, quietly retrieving it back into Giorno.

Wire's sharp nail curls around Lena's chin carefully, leaning into her personal space.

“I can do exactly that which you kept thinking about, Mistress.” she looks back into Giorno's eyes now, without pulling back from Lena's face, declaring.

“I can take away his stand, preserving a fraction of his soul —a body cannot exist without a soul: similarly, you cannot kill that which has no soul or life to steal. No soul means eternity: but eternity in this sense means eternal punishment. I can take his stand and preserve it into an inanimate object. Both the stand and user survive separately.” she smirks, ”I am the Matriarch of Souls now.”

The couple stays silent.

Wire's sharp eyes drift between both —her pupils' shape changes constantly, like an hologram in a projector. Drifting from triquetra to triskelion shaped pupils.

“Okay,” Lena finally speaks up after a while, when the water bottle Gold Experience Requiem brought resides empty in her hand and she can stand back again. Giorno stands up, helping her to her feet.

“Baby, can we call our team? Leave the boys under their care, while we go to the Fondazione… We don't have too much time.”

Giorno nods, making sure she's okay before leaving her side. Picking his phone from the coffee table, he texts the group chat. Fugo's the first to start typing, saying he'll get everyone there in fifteen.

“They're on the way.” he says, shoving his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants.

“We should get ready then.”

Via Chiaia, Naples. 7:12 AM.

“Oh, wait.” Lena looks back, grinning up at her husband. Giorno slows down until he parks by the sidewalk, turning to her with a confused look.

“No offense, dear, but… Why are we in a toy store?”

She grins, “Oh, you'll see.” before she climbs off the Hummer, closing the door and rushing inside. Sighing, he follows her after a moment.

Following her through the store, Giorno sees her pick up different plushies and toys, dropping them back into their place with a dismissive gesture, “Too cute.” “Not the right vibe.”

“What are we looking for, Lena?”

“A proper vessel for dear Chronos.”

Giorno huffs, choking back laughter. Turning around, he grabs the first toy within his reach, without really noticing what it is. “Since Chronos has been such a pain, why not this bad boy?”

Lena's eyebrow quirks up in amusement. Looking between her husband and the toy, she struggles to hold back her laugh, “A Barbie doll?”

Giorno frowns, turning the box around just to find exactly, that, a Barbie doll. A special edition one. Blinking repeatedly, he looks back with a shit eating grin. “Yeah, why not.”

Turning to the employee, Lena smiles at them. “We'll get this one, please.”

Fondazione Venere, 7:54 AM.

“Good morning, Dr. Bocelli.” Lena bows, grinning at the man as he approaches the couple. Giorno stands by his wife's side, holding the bag with the toy behind him. His small smirk makes Dr. Bocelli arch an eyebrow —they look like teenagers. Mischievous and clever. Not afraid of danger.

“Good morning, Helena, Giorno. May I ask what's going on? We received your orders, Lena, but I can't seem to find a logical explanation.”

“Don't worry, Dr. Bocelli.” her grin widens. Twisting her head, she points at the arrowhead impression on her skin, right beside the aloe vera tattoo. “We found a way out.”

Bocelli blinks once, twice before his eyes snap open in surprise, “No way! Is that the arrow? How…?” Turning to Giorno, Bocelli's eyes look frantically around the Don's neck, knowing the chain he wears with the arrow always peeks through his shirts. This time, however, there's no chain.

“I'm not sure,” Giorno says, “But we think the arrow responded to her despair.”

“I'm sure we can report that to the Speedwagon Foundation later. Right now, can we go? I'll explain the details there.” Lena motions over to the hall, “Is everyone ready?”

Dr. Bocelli nods, leading the way. “Type O Negative, an improvised room far away from the rest of the beds and resources, heart monitors, a special team from the Speedwagon Foundation Naples Branch and a vehicle. Everything's ready.”

“Good.”

The room assigned for the occasion is cold —it wasn't supposed to host a patient: it used to be the oxygen cylinder storage room. Now, the cylinders have been transported to the room aside this one, letting the sound of the cylinders working lingering through the room. The empty bed in the middle awaits with the monitors ready. Standing around the room, the special team from the Speedwagon Foundation Naples Branch bow as soon as the three come in, muttering their greetings.

Taking a look around, Lena hums to herself, turning to her husband. Giorno nods in her direction, closing the door behind him.

“Thank you for coming.” Dr. Bocelli starts, hands entwined behind his back. The Littmann stethoscope shines under the lamp above him. “I've already informed you of this rare occasion —a stand that attacks its own user, pushing him to the edge. Sadly, my stand couldn't help Mr. Morte but,” he gestures at the couple behind him. “As you might already know, we've got the Don and Donna on our side: they've found a way out. Mrs. Giovanna, please?”

Lena nods, taking a step forward so she ends up facing the group, which stands in a circle around the room. “The stand arrow has chosen me, granting me with a requiem stand.” The lights flicker. When they come back fully, Wire Requiem stands by her user's side, shielding her with her chains and scraping some around the floor.

A chilling sensation runs down the spines of those watching.

“We will take Mr. Morte's stand away from him, leave just a fraction of his soul and seal the stand on an inanimate vessel. According to Wire, once the stand is sealed, it will not hurt anyone. It'll serve a Master, because until now, Chronos is its own master.”

Someone raises their hand, tension building up as Lena stares at him, nodding in his direction.

“Mrs. Giovanna, what would be… the inanimate object you'll use?”

Someone else speaks up, panic evident in his voice. “Who will be the Master?”

Giorno's deep voice cuts through —sharp and strong. Commanding. “Gentlemen, I can assure you none of you is at risk. You are here for the simplest of reasons. Let her talk.”

Smiling up at her husband, Lena turns back to the group. “The vessel will be this,” Wire drops the chains around her, letting her step out and, turning to Giorno, he opens the bag for her, letting her take the box out. Turning around with the toy in full display, she smacks it against the table by her side with a playful smile in her lips, “A toy.”

Dr. Bocelli smiles in amusement, shaking his head. “No doubt you two come up with the craziest ideas.”

The team stays silent as the men seem to take into the information delivered so abruptly. One of them, a tall and slim young man, speaks up, “Uhm, so… May I ask how we can help? The Board sent us urgently, but we weren't informed of anything.”

Giorno looks back at him, replying before his wife. “You will transport Chronos once we've locked it and commanded a Master. The Speedwagon Foundation Naples branch will host Chronos under a special room, secured and under vigilance twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Please stand outside, we will inform you once we're done. Are we clear?”

The men nod, slowly walking out and standing by the door, guarding the room.

“Dr. Bocelli,” Lena rubs the back of her neck, starting to feel the exhaustion from the sleepless night settle in. When the old man looks back at her she smiles, softly, almost shy.

“I know I can handle this, but I'm not really sure the state Matteo will be left in after this.” She looks aside, staring at Giorno as he takes out the doll from the box. “But Matteo's important to him. He was his hero…” she looks back and her smile shows nothing but sadness. “No one wants to see their hero losing.”

Dr. Bocelli nods, a knowing smile spreading across his lips, almost like he's seeing someone in her. “I know. Type O Negative will do everything to help. Once he's out of its claws, I'm pretty sure we can treat him.”

She nods, smile turning into a hopeful one —and her eyes light up, too. As she looks over, Giorno gives her a thumbs up, sitting beside the bed.

“I'll bring him over, then.” Dr. Bocelli leaves the room, closing the door behind him quietly.

Silence settles in, thick with tension and fear. Wire Requiem's still floating around, making the lights flicker with each movement. Every time her chains scrape against the floor Giorno tenses, eyes looking everywhere in an attempt to calm down.

Lena's lips part to call for him when the door opens and a nurse comes in, pushing a gurney. Two nurses come behind them, pushing the rest of the equipment needed to keep Matteo alive.

Standing up, Giorno looks down at Matteo, feeling his face contour into pure, raw fear: the man looks fragile, like he'll break if someone touches him.

Dr. Bocelli trails last, with Angelo mumbling something as they come into the room, standing beside Lena as the nurses maneuver Matteo into the bed in the middle of the room, checking his IV's and monitors.

When they leave and the door closes behind the last one, Lena steps up. Rolling the sleeves of her —Giorno's— shirt up, Wire Requiem floats over her, circling her shoulders from behind and looming over her shoulder.

“Please,” she starts without looking around, her words directed to those in the room: eyes fixated on Matteo's furrowed brow. “Don't let your guard down. Chronos probably knows what's coming.”

Giorno chuckles, the sound both dark and dangerous. Standing on the other side of the bed, he rolls his sleeves up too. When Lena looks back at him with big eyes, he winks: playing off his own anxiety, while soothing hers. “Gold Experience Requiem won't let that happen.” said stand manifests behind Giorno, at first as a golden aura, and slowly, into the form she knows so well.

How could it be possible for two requiem stands to coexist in the same room, if the arrow was actively being used by one?

Dr. Bocelli smiles from his spot, “We're ready, don't worry. You can begin whenever you're ready.”

Giorno nods, staring into Lena's eyes. The intensity of the shared look feels like ages have passed when Lena blinks slowly, like a cat confirming its trust to its owner —her eyes leave Giorno's just so she can look down at Matteo. “Wire.”

Wire Requiem hums, and the lights flicker multiple times in alternate patterns. “Yes, Mistress?”

Lena smiles, holding Matteo's hand. Shooting a last look at Giorno's way, she pronounces, “Matriarch of Souls, — extract this soul, bend it over your will…” a dark aura takes over her eyes, “And punish it.”

Wire Requiem grins, showing off her prominent, sharp teeth. Circling her user, the stand's sharp fingers sink into Matteo's chest without a warning. Though her hand remains inside, there's no trace of blood —only a small layer of sweat coating Matteo's forehead. As Wire seems to look for something, the lights flicker and the Hartman solution solidifies inside its container.

A scream, loud and agonizing fills the silence of the room. Wire Requiem pulls her hand out, holding between her fingers the neck of a creature that claws at her armor in between cries. Blue liquid splashes around as the creature trashes on her hold. Its empty, black eyes cry black liquid, which pours into its mouth and slips out from the hole on its chest — intelligible words and screams resound from the entity's throat.

Holding the vessel, Giorno extends his hand out, watching how Wire maneuvers the beign into the toy, pushing it inside. He watches, surprised, how the toy breaks under the pressure, transmuting into a yellow mass.

The screams turn into words, loud and raspy —but distant, too. “You! You will suffer the consequences! I am the great Chronos!”

One of Wire's chains shoots up, wrapping itself around Chronos' neck and, with a tug, its head rolls aside, mouth open and eyes shifting into bigger black cavities.

But Chronos keeps screaming, aiming to spit its black liquid into Lena —midair, the liquid stops and goes back to where it came from.

The space-time in the room around them fluctuates in different, colorful tones, seeming to go back into a loop.

A voice, deep and honeyed, dangerously low cuts through, even as Wire struggles to hold Chronos against its vessel.

“Pretentious ones do not deserve glory. Similarly, those who deserve glory will acquire it.” Gold Experience Requiem manifests himself right before Chronos' eyes, pink eyes staring into the void —knowing the void stares back, always.

“You are not Time, Destiny, nor you are Fate. You're not any of them: not even an impersonation. You.” taking Chronos' head, Gold Experience turns to Wire, who's already pushed the rest of it into the vessel. Rising Chronos' head above their heads, Gold Experience Requiem smirks, “You are just a mere soul with barely any knowledge over time. If anything, the only moment you'll be above us is now, when my hand holds your severed head up.”

Chronos screams, struggling in Gold Experience's hold until one of Wire's chains shoots up into its throat, silencing its pointless cries.

“Listen,” she recites, “You are not your own master anymore: you will serve my Mistress. Dare dishonor her again, and I'll make sure you disappear into eternity —eternity means punishment when you have no body to kill, did ya know? ”

Without expecting anything else, Gold Experience Requiem's arm descends into the vessel, forcefully and brutally sticking Chronos' head inside, “Muda!”

The lights flicker, the floor shakes and the monitors turn on and off —time slows down, oxygen feels cut off.

And then it stops. Time resumes its course, oxygen feels normal, Hartman solution's liquid, and the monitors go back to normal.

Holding the vessel up, Wire Requiem turns to her user, carefully giving it to her.

There's no trace of what it used to be —now, Chronos' vessel is just a yellow mass with a single, smiling mouth carved in the middle. The mouth's lips are sealed with two nails that pass through the upper and lower lip, shutting them forcefully though failing to flatten the curve created by the mouth's wicked smile.

Matteo gasps, startling Lena —she gasps, too, taking a step back before she collides into Giorno's chest. His arms circle her, securing her and the vessel. They watch how Dr. Bocelli rushes to Matteo's side, initiating the protocols.

“It's okay —I'm okay.” Lena's whispers make Giorno look back, arching an eyebrow in silent wonder. When she looks up at him, batting her eyelashes, Giorno's hold softens, letting her stand before him, while keeping a protective arm around her just in case she needs his help.

Type O Negative rushes around the room, some of the small beings rushing to Dr. Bocelli, others performing smaller protocols.

Until they all stop moving after removing the mask and electrodes from Matteo, whose features have relaxed. Dr. Bocelli turns to them, taking a moment to look them in the eyes for what feels like hours.

“Congratulations, it was a complete success. As you can see,” he gestures over Matteo, “He looks better now, the aging has stopped and reversed. Since Type O Negative is still a stand, and he's in such a weakened state, I'm not really sure he'll be able to take a sudden, sped up recovery. I suggest we stick to the traditional methods: fluid therapy, meds and monitoring his vital signs.”

“If that's the best, then we'll do it.” Giorno nods and Bocelli smiles reassuringly.

As the nurses come in and take Matteo away, the others follow after him, stopping in the hall by the Speedwagon Foundation team.

“Should we proceed with the plan, Mrs. Giovanna?” one of them asks, bowing slightly. He eyes the vessel in Lena's hands with curiosity, having heard the screams and felt the changes in the atmosphere.

“I'll go with you." She says, looking back at her husband. “You should stay with Matteo. Then we can meet at the Foundation. The Board will want to inform the rest of the locations around the world.”

Giorno's eyes hold a certain worried glint barely above his stern persona. With a quiet nod, Lena turns to the closest agent, passing the vessel to him. “Wait in the vehicle. There will be one of our men watching over you.”

The men nod, turning around and walking out in a special formation meant to guard the vessel.

The couple stays back, silent. The arrowhead in Lena's hands shines under the artificial lights —it slipped out of her neck, falling in her hands.

Holding his hand out, Giorno looks at her in the eye, “You called Paolo, right? The prophecy… You want to see what's up with it.”

“Yeah. I mean… It's not like Chronos said it all. I think he'll decipher it. But we need to know if Matteo will make it out. So… are you okay with this?”

Taking the arrowhead from her, Giorno retrieves a chain from his pocket, hanging it back in and then around his neck. “I agree as long as you are okay,” he says, fixing his shirt so the arrowhead doesn't show up through the fabric, commenting casually. “You just took someone's soul, honey.”

Lena chuckles, shaking her head and smoothing the fabric of her jeans, “I mean… For a second there I felt asphyxiated. But I got a feeling Matteo will heal. I'm just worried about the boys' stands: I want to ask Chronos what it meant with the rule or destroy thing.”

Giorno sighs, placing his hand on her arm and applying a little bit of pressure —enough to ground her. “If you ask me, it's implying they will be too powerful. Maybe to unimaginable levels.”

She nods, looking up. Slowly, her arms circle his waist until she's flush against his body leaning her head into his chest. “I'll wait for you so we can work with Paolo and interrogate Chronos. I have to send a report to the Foundation, so… It'll give you time to be there.”

“Then I'll be there, love.” kissing the crown of her head, Giorno stays there, embracing her until she pulls back. Her tired, bloodshot eyes make him frown, but he still traces his fingers over her face, trying to pour all of his love in his eyes for her to see it and get at least some of her resolve back.

“Then… See you, baby.” standing on her tiptoes, she kisses his lips, pulling away and walking in the direction the Speedwagon Foundation group left.

A part of him couldn't deny how attractive the powerful, ruthless and strong Donna was —but the woman he had seen walk out, his dear wife, could be deathly if she so desired.

“You like your women smart and dangerous, don't you?” Angelo's voice cuts through his train of thought, making him look back through his shoulder.

Angelo's face seems pale, almost like the recent events —the stand extraction— had left him partially scared. And still, his eyes show something like resolve when he looks up into Giorno's eyes and asks, “Can we talk?”

Fully turning around to face him, Giorno gestures forward. “Of course.”

Angelo fiddles with the paper wrapping around his coffee, looking down at his feet as they walk down the hall. “I… stayed the night with him, you know?”

Giorno hums, peeking at him through the corner of his eye, “I do.”

“I didn't get any sleep because I was praying. I asked God for a miracle,” his voice shakes, getting slightly hoarse: and the sour laugh that slips past his lips comes out raspier, “Never thought God would send two deities to his rescue.”

Angelo stops walking, turning to Giorno.

And the Don stops too, following Angelo's movements, keeping his hands inside his pockets; watching through curious and worried eyes how Angelo looks everywhere but him.

“When he told me he'd let you know about the prophecy without a care over himself I was so mad —with him. With you.” he looks up, trying to stop the tears that keep running down his cheeks, “All my life I saw him struggle with it: always mumbling to himself, anxious and scared. And now!” he looks up into Giorno's eyes, frowning and gesturing around uncontrollably. “Out of nowhere, you two help him out.” he chokes on a sob and the enraged expression leaves his face, replaced by one of sorrow and relief. Through raging breaths and tears, he manages to speak again. “I don't know if I should thank you or hit you with my whole strength.”

The Don stays silent, lowering his gaze as Angelo sobs, wiping his tears just for more to soak his cheeks.

When it feels like he's calmed down, Giorno nods, fully grasping the message behind Angelo's words. “It must have been traumatizing, wasn't it? You… you don't know how you feel right now, am I right?”

Angelo sobs, covering his face with his hands. “No! I don't know!” breaking into a mess of sobs and tears again, this time desperately. Broken. “And I hate it!”

Pulling a hand out his pocket, Giorno positions that same hand on Angelo's shoulder, gripping at it hard enough for the gesture to be interpreted as a supportive one. “Hey," he calls, trying to sound as calm and understanding as he can. “It's okay to be confused. Dealing with traumatic stuff is, naturally, confusing.”

Angelo looks back at him, puffy nose and bloodshot eyes, silent and waiting for Giorno's next words.

“You don't have to fight alone. There's people out there willing to help you. Lena's foundation could help.” he smiles, adding in a playful tone. “If you want to, and if it makes you feel better, you could try to land a punch on me.”

Angelo chuckles, pulling back and wiping his face with the sleeves of his coat. “I don't think uncle Matteo will like that.”

Giorno nods, chuckling too. “Oh, he won't, that's for sure.”

“There you are,” Type O Negative's nurse stands before them —though this nurse is barely the size of a crayon, its voice's still strong enough to be heard. “Dr. Bocelli and the patient are waiting for you. Please follow me, I'll lead the way.”

The small green stand turns around, starting to walk back. Following them first, Giorno looks back just in time to see Angelo follow him, too —thinking that, maybe, the small, silent rivalry between them was starting to change.

Speedwagon Foundation Naples Branch, medical wing compound. 4:06 PM.

Damiano Cerulli stands beside the desk occupied by the Director, staring outside.

“Okay." Helena turns to him, gifting him a kind, warm smile, putting her pen down. “Send this report to every Speedwagon Foundation location, branch and center around the world. If needed, schedule a meeting. Got it?”

“Yes, Mrs. Giovanna.” picking the folder, Damiano rushes out of the office.

The door closes behind his back —but then, it opens again and Damiano's head peeks through the small open space. “Uhm, there's someone waiting here. He says he's a friend of yours?”

Leaning back against her chair, Lena nods, sighing.

Damiano disappears, leaving the door open.

Seconds later, a man comes in. Average height, pale skin, black hair and green eyes with keyhole shaped pupils —his winged eyeliner stands out from behind the loose bangs hanging from his forehead. His cloth mask hides half of his face, but with a single look Lena relaxes, recognizing him.

Lifting a hand to toy with the black leather choker around his neck, the man stops before her desk, twirling around just to show off his outfit; black leather boots, jeans and a loose white shirt underneath a black leather jacket which sports Within Temptation's art on the back.

Lena chuckles, clapping in amusement. But her reaction stays there: passive.

He takes his mask off, shoving it into the jacket's pockets.

“Well,” the man pulls out the chair before Lena's, sitting down and crossing a leg over the other. “Isn't the queen of the underworld herself.”

“Good evening to you too, Paolo.” leaning on her elbows, Lena tilts her face aside, playing along his friendly game.

Paolo Aparigi chuckles, shaking his head. “Logical of you — kind, even when you're about to break. Don't worry, I happened to run into your king on my way here. He must be here in a second.”

“Uh?”

“Paolo,” Giorno's voice joins in as he comes into his wife's office, holding two bags; one from a bakery and one from a restaurant. “What did I say about taking Lena's eyeliner?”

“You took my eyeliner?!”

Paolo chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kinda? As I said before, I ran into your king —Giorno— and he decided to let me hop in, since we both were coming here. Your eyeliner was hidden, yeah, but I found it! And I just had to try it.”

“God,” shaking her head, Lena stands up from the desk, rushing to help Gio set the bags down. Glaring at Paolo, she points an accusing finger his way. “You'll get me a brand new one.”

Chuckling, Paolo nods. “I will.”

Paolo stays silent, watching how Giorno asks Lena to sit down. Then, he retrieves a small package with food, placing it before her. Followed by an iced coffee and a slice of carrot cake. Looking back, Giorno's stern nature pops out when he speaks.

“She hasn't eaten all day. Do you mind…?”

Thirty minutes later, Paolo Aparigi sits before the Dons, staring at a strange yellow mass locked inside a glass box.

So he shakes his head, dismissing the situation with his hand. “I can wait, I haven't been informed of the situation yet.”

“This doesn't make sense.” he starts, looking between his bosses and the box. “What am I looking at?”

Lena sighs, “Long story short, I extracted someone's stand. We locked it inside a vessel. The stand could see the future, but everytime its user revealed something, he'd be punished. This time it went too far. So we just, you know, had to.”

Paolo's eyes almost pop out his skull with the way he's staring at her, mouth open in disbelief.

Giorno then adds, “The stand's named Chronos, and Lena's basically in charge of it. Its Mistress.”

Silence.

Paolo looks between the two, then down at the box.

Slowly, a grin spreads through his features, and when he speaks, his double round of teeth can be seen. “Amazing! What did Chronos do to deserve your rage?”

“Chronos revealed our sons' stands, apparently. But its prophecy… We're worried.”

Silence —this time, however, filled with tension. Even Paolo's smile has disappeared upon the mention of the Giovanna twins. His throat is dry suddenly, and he can only wait until Giorno speaks up.

“The prophecy is not clear —we're not sure of what we're seeing. We wanted to ask you to decipher it. In the worst case, confirm our suspicions.”

Paolo nods, mumbling his answer. “I will. I just need it written, and I will work on it right now.”

With a nod, Giorno opens the glass box, sitting back. Lena's fingers take out the nails by each side of Chronos' mouth, watching as it smacks its lips, curling them into a smile.

Its voice, however, holds a certain tone of submission and kindness, completely different from the one used that morning. “How may I serve you, Mistress?”

Lena looks at Giorno through the corner of her eye and, upon Giorno's firm nod, she directs her attention to the caged stand. “I want you to recite your prophecy for my sons again —and while you do, I want every word written in the paper I will present before you.”

The mouth stays shut as Lena puts the paper before it. Leaning back, everyone tenses when the mouth starts moving, but no words can be heard until it stops and something's written in the paper before it.

Taking it away from Chronos, Paolo frowns down at it.

Within an unknown realm, a severed soul divided itself. From each part, a new soul was born. Where there was one soul once, two souls emerged.

The power the single soul possessed at first was split into equal measures and poured into the two princes of the underworld's bosses offspring.

One, is Reborn.

The second is Rebuilt.

The first will create matter, infringing physics. The latter, it will twist Reborn's creations to its will, and create that which is desired: this, too, will infringe every kind of knowledge there is. If used wrongly, no salvation will be possible. Reborn belongs to the oldest, Rebuilt to the youngest.

Together, they will rule or destroy.

Paolo's eyes scan through it erratically. His pupils dilate with each passing second until he looks back at the couple before him, his statement sends chills down their backs.

“The twins… it's like they were meant to be one person, until something, maybe… Maybe the biological phenomenon a twin pregnancy represents, divided it. It split the power between them.”

He stands abruptly, almost knocking the chair off and smacking the paper into the desk before his bosses. “But this! This part— matter! Matter cannot be created nor destroyed! And if I'm right, if I'm right!—” he sits down, setting his elbows at his thighs and holding his head between his shaking palms. “If I am, then… Matter creation and manipulation is definitely a risk.”

Chronos hums, “May I, Mistress?”

Lena glares at it, but still replies. “What is it?”

Chronos smiles, wicked. “Mr. Aparigi is right. Matter couldn't be created until they were born. Now, it can be created and manipulated still, but under their wishes and conditions.”

Giorno smirks and the yellow streaks in his eyes stand out, flashing golden for a second as he takes after a rather quiet rage. “Why didn't you say it before?”

Chronos' grin widens, “Would you try to make a blin—”

Lena cuts him off, voice firm and dangerous. “Behave.”

Giorno frowns, feeling his blood boil upon Chronos' mocking tone, sensing his wife's disagreement and rage. “Answer my question, no games.”

“I cannot reveal more, unless those interested decipher the prophecy. While your stand said it, that I'm not Time, Destiny or Fate themselves, I am still in sync. And must not give out information so easily,” its tongue rolls out, curling around itself and wetting its lips, drool falling down. “However, since I am under my Mistress command upon the Matriarch of Souls' order, I should let you know: your success smells great! It smells so good it stinks, even! Those two will rule wisely! Those two will be the chosen ones!”

Lena's hand shoots forwards, catching Chronos' tongue right when it rolls out. Holding it, she tugs at it, ignoring the drool coating her hand. “I've got you one better: when will their stands manifest? Sickness and all.”

Letting the tongue go, she takes the handkerchief Giorno offers with a nod, wiping her hand.

Chronos smacks its lips, curling and uncurling its tongue as if trying to ease the pain. After a moment, the smile it usually sports comes back. “Once the leaves fall off the trees in the country which name means moon's belly button and two summers have gone by. Only then their bodies will burn, and the powers residing asleep within them will awaken, but will not be used until seven springs have passed.”

“Seven springs?” Paolo mumbles to himself, leaning back against his chair.

Shaking her head, Lena's finger curls around itself —and the nails rise, vibrating and shooting down, forcefully closing Chronos' mouth. The box closes itself right after that.

Silence settles in. Tense, like the moment of truth after a prolonged lie. Though it represents the silence of turbulent minds trying to find any sense to the words pronounced by the prophet.

Until she hums, looking up from her entwined hands atop her desk. Her voice barely above a whisper, Lena speaks up, having found out something. “Mexico. That's what the name means: the moon's bellybutton… As for the leaves falling off the trees, it must be autumn. Autumn in Mexico —around September, October and November.”

Paolo speaks up now, scratching the back of his neck, “But why would it make it so hard to track? You can't be in Mexico watching over every season.”

Giorno shakes his head, intervening into the conversation, “We're not talking about the seasons. Chronos meant it'll happen during those months, the thing… Is when. This year, the next?”

“Two summers have gone by." Paolo says, immediately after Giorno. “They turn two this year, right?"

Giorno and Helena freeze. Slowly turning to each other, they stare at each other, speechless and startled.

“Reborn and Rebuilt will awaken during September October or November, this year.” Giorno says, collecting all the recent information into a simple yet scary sentence.

Lena nods, looking down at her lap —desperation starts to settle in, anxiety bubbling up and making her dizzy for a moment as the world around her feels like a blur of colors and noises.

Paolo stands up, bowing slightly and leaving without caring about being dismissed. He knows they need time to talk it out. And still, the need to soothe their worry pops out as he adds before he leaves, standing in the doorframe. “It said… Reborn and Rebuilt will awaken, but will be used only when they're seven."

Giorno looks back from the window, frowning in Paolo's direction as his words sink in. And by the time he's grasped on everything, the door's already closed.

“Gio." She calls, and Giorno looks back immediately, finding her leaning on the desk, but turning to him with bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks. “Should we… should we postpone our plans?”

The baby.

He freezes once again, every muscle on his body pulls at it fibers violently while he runs over the question in his head, trembling hands reaching out to her, taking her hips and guiding her to sit across his lap. His temporary response is holding her close as the sun sets in the horizon, his eyes burn with unspilled tears and his heart clenches inside his chest when she sobs.

8:32 PM.

The drive back home feels strange —like an uncomfortable, tense dream. After receiving a text from Angelo saying Matteo had woken up and the infection had stopped, they had been sent home by him through a short video sent by Angelo, too.

Though it felt good to see Matteo well, Lena couldn't shake the image off her head —Matteo's eyes weren't the same. One of his eyes, the left one, had morphed and transformed into a constant reminder of the part he was missing now: leaving his sclera and a single hourglass shaped pupil in the middle.

And Giorno knew. He knew she felt guilty, sad and worried.

But he couldn't bring himself to talk —only grip at the steering wheel and clench his jaw. The recent events had shocked him and he still couldn't process everything.

The red light comes in, and he slows down until the Hummer comes to a stop before the crosswalk. Before them, a couple of teens walk by, laughing as they hold ice cream cones.

Giorno does not know what came over him —the sound of his own voice surprises him. “I don't think we should slow down our plans.”

Lena looks up, straightening her position out of habit. “Uhm?”

Giorno shakes his head, looking through the rear-view mirror, then back at his wife, repeating his words slowly. “I don't think we should stop our plans…” his hand leaves the gear shift, wrapping itself around her thigh. “We're a team, and Chronos said we succeeded. Besides…" he stops as the green light comes on, taking his hand away from her thigh to speed up.

As the buildings go by, he resumes his speech. “We've got our team with us. All of them are willing to help.”

His lips seal into a line, testing his luck with his next words. “Everyone loves them, Helena. Our sons have captivated the hearts of our friends. We've got people willing to protect them —if we have to teach them how to use their stands we will.” he takes a quick look at her, then turns back to the road. From what he could catch, Lena's eyes scan all over him, taking in his words and listening with her heart in her hand.

So he keeps going, reaching a hand out to turn off the low music. The Weeknd's voice disappears, leaving back silence.

Silence he cuts off, “Dante and Jovi won't be alone, like we were. I can assure you… if something were to happen to us both, they would have many people to rely on. We don't have to fear the things we can face.”

He sighs, slowing down as the car before them does it too. Taking the chance to steal a look her way and let his eyes roam through her face. “The baby we've been planning. I still want to have them,” he looks back, failing to see her grin as he quiets down, frowning as a long line of cars forms before them, “—I will respect and support your decision if you don't want to, okay? You don't have to do this just for me. You don't have to meet any expectations, because it's not about what I want, it's about our family. What we want.”

His eyes stay focused on the cars before, which start to move slowly, then stop again. And he waits, patiently. He takes the time to let his body relax and his heart to calm down from the erratic rhythm that had picked on after the sudden rush of cortisol and adrenaline.

What he doesn't expect, however, is the sudden, warm feeling of Lena's hand on his thigh. When he twists his head to look over, she's there, stopping his movements with a kiss to his cheek; followed by her slim, long fingers cupping his face and guiding his head aside so he can face her.

Her eyes are bloodshot again, filled with tears but her smile makes his heart swell. She's glowing in the dim lights, and although her voice comes out low and heavy under the lump of her throat due to the unspilled tears, he finds himself relaxing as he hears her.

“I want to. I want to keep going. And yeah,” she pulls back, letting him keep driving as the line of cars dissolves and the traffic flows down the avenue. “We have the resources to help them, so… I think we should tell La Unità, Dr. Bocelli, Rohan and Ariel, Josuke and Krys… We should let every person we trust know. Maybe even... Sunnie and Dio.”

Giorno nods, taking note of her hand still on his thigh. Reaching out, his fingers sneak through the gaps of hers, holding her hand in his lap. “Love,” he starts, “We can do everything in our power to help them, but right now… We should rest, okay? We've been awake and working nonstop for a long time.”

She hums, pulling her hand away so he can hold the gear shift again, right as they take a turn, closer to home.

And then, she mumbles. “If it's a boy, we should call him Jonathan. And if it's a girl, Esmeralda.”

The chuckle that leaves his lips rumbles through his chest, “Agree.”

Giovanna residence, 9:03 PM.

He watches how she embraces both boys carefully, kissing their cheeks and foreheads.

He notices the tired smile she gives Lorenzo when he asks if she's okay; he hears her lie. But he plays it off, telling everyone they'll hold a meeting in two days, so they can be informed about the situation.

Westwood stays back when the rest of the team has left.

He asks for a talk and, once they stand before him with the boys asleep in their arms, he stands before them, smiling and giving a reassuring squeeze to their shoulders, pulling back with his arms behind his back in a straight position —like a soldier, even if he shows a soft smile, moved and worried. “Don, Donna, if there's something I've always found wonderful about you two, is not only your love, it's this—"

Westwood gestures at them and the little to non-existent space between them as they stand side by side.

“The way you complement each other so perfectly. I'm sure whatever's bugging you, even if it's about the boys, you will find the way out.” he bows, looking up from his position to finish with; ”The Giovanna family represents more than a name: you're the perfect example of strength and charisma." And with that, Hysteria's user leaves the residence.

Giorno and Lena watch him leave with Abel, who grins and waves them goodbye as the Lamborghini Aventador speeds up, leaving through the massive black gates of the residence.

Coming in, the couple walks up the stairs, down the hall in their bedroom's direction. Setting the boys in their bed, then taking turns to shower as the other gets a crib by their bedside, setting blankets and their plushies inside. All is done in a comforting silence, soft smiles and loving kisses.

And only when Giorno's spooning her from behind as they watch their sons sleep, he twists his face, whispering in her ear.

“Thank you for saving Matteo, Lena. I can't afford to lose him.” she hums in an affirmative tone, shifting and turning around just to end up pressed flush as against him, a leg between his, her arm around his waist and her fingers tracing patterns along his naked back. She hums, letting him know she's listening. “And… I promise we will do everything to make sure Dante and Jovi know how to use their stands, I will protect and guide them.”

“That should be 'we' hm?”

He chuckles, feeling her melt into him upon the rumble of his chest. “Right, we will do everything to help them understand their stands… And bloodline.”

Lena hums and the soft puff of her breath tickles him slightly. “We will.”

He feels her melt, relaxing against him and sighing as sleep starts to take over —but he can't shake the image off his head. Wire Requiem –Matriarch of Souls? Did Lena know the dimension of that title? Was she aware of how dangerous she could be if she so desired? She could take away his stand if she wanted to. Maybe even Rohan's. She could take away and seal stands, and the mere thought had him asking, even if that meant waking her up.

“Lena, do you… Do you realize how strong you are?"

She hums, waking up slowly. “Yeah…? You've said that before, but… I don't get it? I'm okay?"

He shakes his head, even if she's not looking at him, “No. I meant… your stand. Wire referred to herself as the Matriarch of Souls. Do you understand… how dangerous is that?”

Lena tenses against him and it takes a moment until she relaxes, replying in a whisper. “I know. I can feel her power cursing through my veins, if that makes sense? It's like I know I can do more than just swap abilities. I hate to admit it, but I'm kinda scared of how far I could go. So… I know where you're coming from.”

“Truth is I don't know what's my point,” he confesses, “I just know I'm worried.”

She hums, fingers doodling flowers on his side, “I think… I'm gonna have to restrain her while I get used to this feeling. But I know, Gio." She pulls back, enough to look at him in the dark. “I know what she means with that title —her power goes behind the whole stands thing: she knows something about the existence itself. Why else would she say eternity means punishment when soul and body are apart. It's like she knows things any human shouldn't.”

Giorno nods. Then, a small, nervous chuckle escapes him. “At least we have something more in common —both have requiem stands."

She plays along, opting to forget about the tense moment, “Ah yeah, demigods.”

“Then, I can go around and say I'm married to a goddess, that wouldn't be a lie at all.”

“Gio, go to sleep. 's starting to affect you."

#I!!!! AM LITERALLY BESIDE MYSELF RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!#this was INCREDIBLE!!!! A WHOLE EPIC AND GLEJFJFKDBCKFBD #the number of times i had to set my phone down and roll around on the sofa.#the number of times i TEARED UP #ESPECIALLY THE END #LENA 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖#AMAZING #GioLena #friends writing #VNJFFJSJDHDKFHSHDB

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