#shut up zepp

[cinnbar-bun]

Pony (Various SBR x Reader)

Characters: Diego Brando, Johnny Joestar, Mountain Tim, Gyro Zeppeli (separate)

Prompt: "My saddle's waitin' / Come and jump on it."

Summary: How ya'll get down and dirty together with your fave cowboys.

Rating: NSFW THERE IS NOTHING BUT SMUT HERE

Notes: Reader is GN!, no body parts mentioned for reader, implied to be during the SBR, no spoilers for Part 7, just pure smut hcs.

Word Count: ~2.3k

You can read on my AO3 here!

Taglist (if you'd like to be added, please fill out the form in my pinned): @bruabbina @adeadcreator

Diego Brando 

The type to suggest a casual arrangement before he gets seriously involved with you. He says it’s just to relieve some stress during the race but before you know it, he wants you closer. 

Tries to present himself as a dominating and forceful top, and that’s probably how many of your sessions will go at first. He refuses to give up power easily and especially not in a presumed ‘casual’ mutually beneficial arrangement. 

In reality he can be quite the switch, something that will be explored the more you two get intimate. He relishes power struggles, and will goad you into trying to dominate him further or putting you deeper in your place. 

A talker, Diego will almost never shut up. Whether it’s praising how your body squeezes him, degrading you smugly, coaxing you to ‘tame’ him, or begging for some pleasure- his mouth will be running. 

He makes such beautiful noises <3 

Prefers to have sex in more secluded areas, preferably your tents late at night. But if pushed to it, he will not be opposed to just taking you in an alley or in the woods out in the open. 

“Since you acted so wanton earlier, it shouldn’t be an issue for you, should it? Now stop whining.” 

He loves when suck him off while he’s sitting or standing. It makes him feel like a king. He’ll give you plenty of praise or condescending compliments while you do so. 

His fingers are amazing. Calloused from holding the reins for so many years, but experienced at the best ways to give you pleasure. 

Diego tends to admit his true feelings or get more possessive during sex. A lot of “mine” or “for me” and “I love you’s” are thrown out while he’s going at it (or you’re going at him). 

Occasionally cannot hold back how feral he feels because of Scary Monsters. He will be rutting and grinding into you and telling you he needs you now. 

Probably one of the few occasions he will not be talking beyond mindless grunts, groans, and growls. 

Does like roleplay, not really anything elaborate (especially not during the race when time is limited), but he does like indulging in specific ‘roles’ for you both. He tends to like being called ‘master’ or ‘sir’ or even ‘my lord’. Don’t worry, he’s happy to do the same for you if you want it (sigh can you imagine him calling you master/mistress I’m-). 

Has no preference for where he finishes, because he truthfully wants to cover himself all over you, whether you swallow, giving you a facial, or inside- he’s raring to go again to finish on a different spot and exert his place with you. 

If under the influence of Scary Monsters, though, he will tend to want to finish inside you. 

His aftercare is pretty crappy at first, especially when it’s meant to be ‘casual’, because he thinks he’s such hot shit that you should be grateful you even got to sleep with him. But as he gets closer to you, he will either grumble and tell you you’re so dirty while cleaning you, or just silently help you then hold you close. 

He can be very clingy after sex, making him hold you close and bury his face into your shoulder/chest so he can inhale your scent and regain himself.

Johnny Joestar 

Type to get caught trying to ‘relieve’ himself and weakly ask for your help. And really, how could you resist that flustered face?

Johnny isn’t inexperienced, absolutely not, but he hasn’t slept with another since his time as a pompous jockey who had people throwing themselves onto him left and right. The guilt and his injury left him rather rusty and self-conscious about his performance. 

You’re gonna have to do a lot of the heavy lifting with him, but Johnny proves himself to be an eager lover. 

Lots of foreplay between the two of you, with Johnny having a preference for face-sitting. He also will incorporate some of the Spin with you to act as a ‘vibrator’ of sorts to pleasure you more. 

Self-conscious at first but slowly grows more comfortable and confident as you two continue together, making him relax. While at first he tries to stay silent or apologizes/mumbles under his breath a lot, he’ll slowly begin to crack some jokes and be more vocal. 

This is when you’ll see Johnny shine more. He’ll offer more creative suggestions and kinks for the both of you to try out. He’s wonderful at adapting on the fly if he finds you enjoying/disliking something. 

Besides his stated fetish for bug bites (which will seriously get him going if he sees you with some), he just really loves your ass. He straight up cannot get enough of it, and will be grabbing and holding it whenever he can. 

Continuing with that logic, he loves reverse cowgirl because he loves seeing your ass bounce against him. 

Johnny’s dirty talk tends to consist of him throwing expletives and saying what he feels. He’s not too good with roleplay because after a while the pleasure crashes his brain and he just starts talking mindlessly. 

“Ah, shit, you feel so good… fuck, keep going.” 

He can be a teasing bastard when he really feels like it. Often, he’ll employ the Spin on you, then pull it away just before you finish. He can get pretty cheeky, but that’s just how you know how comfortable he is with you. 

His neck and collarbone are some of his more sensitive spots, and if you focus your attention there, he loses his mind. Leave him some hickeys and tug on his hair, and he’s positively gone. He will complain about the marks later, but secretly admire them and be happy he’s got them from you. 

He likes finishing on your ass. Second favorite thing would be to have you swallow, but he finds it pretty attractive if some of it spills out of your lips. 

His aftercare is good and he’ll do his best to care and comfort you. But majority of the time he’s just spent and exhausted and wants to snuggle with you. He gets rather soft and whispers a lot while you two bask in the afterglow. 

Mountain Tim 

The type of man to want to be romantically involved with you and take it slow, before he can’t contain himself and has to have you. 

Tim is a gentleman, he really is. For a bounty hunter, the man takes great care to try and woo you and behave properly around you. Because, truthfully, this man is a romantic deep down. 

He’ll never try and let his desires get the best of him for fear of taking advantage of you, so you’ll have to initiate. And the minute you initiate, he’s all for it and will jump at the opportunity. 

A giving lover- so giving that the both of you, on occasion, were spent with only the foreplay. 

He’s passionate. His actions can be overwhelming in the bedroom, but you can practically feel the love dripping out of him. He goes nuts for you. 

Obviously, bondage is most likely occurring. His stand gives him a multitude of ways to tie you up and tease you with his body. He will take advantage of his powers to bring you the utmost pleasure. 

However, his favorite kinks include cockwarming and overstimulation. He would love to be inside you forever if he could, and he often likes to tease you by having you sit on him for a while before he moves. 

As for overstimulation… he’s gonna make you cum over and over. He always praises you for finishing and will try to urge another orgasm out of you. He loves seeing your face and hearing your breathless moans and whimpers. 

“That’s it darling… that’s it. You’re doing so good for me… you can give me another one, can’t you? I know you can, darlin’. Just let me take care of you.”

Heavy on the praise. He’s never mean or degrading, because he loves you too damn much to do that. At worst he’d do some condescending praise, but majority of the time it is pure praise for how amazing you are and how good you feel. 

While he can lean into some sub/dom dynamics with you, often sex is just an outlet for the both of you to express your affection and love. 

He is often a service top for you, but leans more towards dom. That doesn’t mean he won’t sub for you, he absolutely will if you desire it. He’d love nothing more than to see you riding him. 

He prefers positions where he can see your face. Tim will coo for you to look into his eyes and shake his head when you try and cover your face or look away. He just loves seeing your facial expressions. 

Reverse cowgirl is a good treat once in a while for him, too. He loves being able to smack your ass and praise how you’re riding him. 

Likes to finish inside. He believes it’s more proof that the two of you are bound together. 

His aftercare is amazing. Probably the best guy around at it. Course, he’ll be a bit of a flirt and tease, but he always care for you just as any good cowboy should. 

Gyro Zeppeli 

Also the type to suggest a casual sexual relationship with you before he falls for you. 

If you were to look up “wild” in the dictionary, you’d find Gyro’s picture right next to it because this man is an absolute loose cannon in the bedroom. Or tent. Or woods. Or alley. Or body of water. Or wherever the hell you two decide to have sex. 

Gyro isn’t ashamed of his desires and will seek you out pretty often. 

He’s experimental in bed. He is experienced from his many sexual escapades back then, but since the race, he’s been steady with you and likes trying whatever new wacky whim crosses through his mind. 

His surgical and anatomical knowledge combined with his teasing nature makes him a menace. He knows almost every nerve and muscle on your body and how to manipulate it for your pleasure. Not to mention, his control over the Spin will have him working your body in overtime. 

Gyro likes to tease you during inopportune times by using the Spin on you to act as a vibrator and get you excited, but he’ll act like nothing is going on around the others and make you wait. He’ll eventually have the two of you secluded and “take care” of the problem he caused, all while having that shit-eating grin on his face as he tells you you’re getting too desperate. 

This man is getting goofy and silly with you during sex. Expect some bad puns or jokes while he’s ramming your insides. 

An unfair and rough lover who gets pleasure from hearing your voice. He will never want you to be quiet, and he makes it his mission to have you screaming by the end of it. He might chide you and call you out for being too loud, but honestly he doesn’t care if everyone else is hearing it. He just loves how your voice sounds. 

Roleplay is common between the two of you. Sometimes it’s ‘prisoner x jailer/executioner’, ‘surgeon x patient’, or ‘royal x dutiful, loyal executioner who is totally gonna be rewarded for being an awesome partner today in the race, right?’ 

Gyro surprisingly can stay in character and he will play his roles very well for you. He gets pretty into them when he wants to. 

Likes doggy style a lot. Whether for you or him, he just wants someone being on all fours and their ass being grabbed. 

Switch, leaning more towards top/dom. But he finds it hot if you take charge of him and put him in his place (and he’ll serve you like no other, baby). Will call you whatever you want him to call you, no questions asked. 

Occasionally drops some Italian in the middle of banging you. This was especially prevalent when he started falling for you and would loudly proclaim “ti amo” over and over without addressing it in English. 

Despite his playful attitude both in the bedroom and out, he can get pretty serious and emotional with you. Sometimes the rough horseplay just doesn’t cut it, and he’ll lay back and thrust slowly into you while gripping your hips to help you ride him. He’ll talk less in these moments and just enjoy hearing both of your gasps and quiet moans. 

Doesn’t have a specific preference on where to finish. He just does it wherever he feels. He commonly does it on your back or stomach, depending on the position. 

His aftercare is wonderful. Yeah, he can be a joker sometimes but the afterglow with you is nice and can get pretty romantic. He’ll glide his hands over you gently and trace over the marks he may have left on you or just to feel your skin underneath his fingers. He’ll clean you up and have you both rest. He did reveal he could relieve some of the soreness from your body with the Spin, so occasionally he’ll do it (admittedly, he does like seeing you limp or wobble after a tryst with him). 

It’s where Gyro will be at his most tender with you, where he will cradle you and look at you with eyes full of love and desire for you. He speaks quietly in these moments and likes to ramble about nothing with you. And when he pulls a small laugh out of you, he thinks he could just die on the spot and be content.

[angelsdean]

dean finds out abt dean jr and he's like "dude wtf why'd you name ur kid after me????" and sam's like "you were dead! i was honoring you. you'd have probably done the same." and dean's goes, "fuck no. my kid's name'd be zeppelin." sam: "zepp-- seriously?! dean that's ridiculous--" dean: "it's cool as fuck. also you killed my first kid so you can shut up forever." sam: *shocked pikachu face* dean: *drives out of heaven with cas to go make a magic grace baby and not name it sam*

[bayfuzzball7050]

My favourite jjba character(s) from each part bc I know it will be more appreciated here than in a Reddit thread

I’ll use this header from now on to yap

Phantom Blood: Speedwagon. Regardless if it’s a whole meme in the community, o genuinely think it’s very brave of him to follow along in an adventure where everyone has powers but he doesn’t. He just raw dog’s every supernatural event and tries his best to be useful. It’s a noble thing.

Battle Tendency: Definitely Caesar Zeppeli. A much more complex and interesting character than his predecessor (William Zeppeli, I mean). I loved his design, personality and charisma regardless if I couldn’t resonate at all with his backstory. I also really enjoyed his rivalry/friendship with Joseph. I’ve always loved the smart/snarky guy x himbo dynamic!

Stardust Crusaders: I love kakyoin with all my heart and soul and I will never shut up about it. I resonated deeply with him since I know personally what it is like to be alone. I like how Araki portrayed his loneliness in a ‘im different than everyone I know’ way where he couldn’t relate to people the way others that. That childhood monologue— god! It hit so, so close to home. I couldn’t help but cry when the scene came up. That is when I realized how much the crusaders mattered to him. A bunch of people ‘like him’ and it’s such a sacred feeling when you’ve been feeling ‘off’ all your life. I also like that he’s always giving little fun facts he’s a bit like yapdollar

Diamond Is Unbreakable: Okuyasu. No question needed. Unlike his brother, Okuyasu is a very kind soul that has never killed anyone (at least on screen) even when he has endured so much abuse from his brother and father alike, something that would ‘justify it’ if he did became an evil character. He stopped looking for a way to kill his father because he can see the good in people and ‘accept them for who they are’. I can’t help but feel a deep sympathy for him. He had taken what his brother had told him about being better off dead so personally to the point where his first question after being healed by Josuke was (paraphrasing bc I don’t remember well) was something like “why did you save me when it would’ve been easier to let me die?”. Josuke came just in time to make him realize how much he actually mattered so he could evolve into the little goofball we all know and love.

Golden Wind: Giorno. I think most people who call him a ‘boring’ or ‘plain’ character often seem to forget that, of course, Giorno will not be a charismatic, sociable, talkative, — joseph — kind of guy. He was severely emotionally and physically neglected in his childhood to the point where showing emotions became useless since he knew he’d be left shaking in his craddle. From this emotional neglect, he started looking up at a gangster as some sort of parental figure. Someone who showed him basic human decency. Later, we get to see his ingenuity in battle. But I think one of the reasons he was so clever in life or death situations was because he has been in a ‘fight or flight’ mode since a very young age. He isn’t even ‘bottling up’ his emotions, he had repressed them deeply inside his brain to survive.

Stone Ocean: The main three. But mainly Foo Fighters bc they’re so silly >_< and I can’t begin to imagine how marvellous it has to be to, one day, become a sentient being

Steel Ball Run: I can’t quite decide between Gyro and Johnny tbh. Johnny is a character who had been always pampered with his ‘rich life’ and was then shocked with the fact that once you’re not useful, or worse, become inconvenient for people, they stop caring about you. I often think about how bad his father was with him, not only rubbing Nicholas’ death all over his face rather often, the whole “God, you took the wrong son” page or just how he never went by to visit him when he had just gotten crippled. It was just plain cruel. Also when they followed Hot Pants to a church and Johnny had to relive some of his most traumatic life experiences again and still try to win. It was one of the best arcs in sbr imo.

Gyro, on another note, wasn’t a son of a wealthy family but had to carry the weight of generations and generations of knowledge on top of the family profession on his shoulders, having to execute a child. He’s also a silly goofball with his jokes that make little to no sense and him trying to explain the spin to johnny in life or death situations always has me cackling up ngl.

Jojolion: I haven’t started to read JOJOLION, but from what I’ve seen, Gappy seems to be a silly goofball who lacks direction and I love that in a man. Also that he’s a 2 x 1 combo, literally.

Jojolands: I haven’t read jojolands either, but good lord they sold me Dragona and Paco when I heard ‘transgender’ and ‘laburantes’. Plus everyone from the Jodio team also seems to be lacking direction and being a pinch silly

[babygirlwolverine]

somewhere along the way- dean can’t exactly remember when- he started praying to cas every night. sometimes sitting on the edge of his bed, sometimes pacing a room or sitting in the impala, and sometimes as his head hits the pillow and his eyes flutter shut. he can’t remember why the ritual started; he’d probably been trying to contact cas for help when the angel had been MIA. but now… now it was just, part of who they were. every night, dean would close his eyes, and pray to cas. sometimes it was important things that he needed cas to know but didn’t want to text, and sometimes it was just… just a way to talk to cas and to feel closer to him. “heya cas, don’t know if you heard on the angel radio that we mighta found that artifact we’ve been searching for, just thought you’d wanna know,” or, “hey bud, got your ears on? I found one of those journals you were looking for. left it in the back of the impala for you whenever you drop by again,” and, “we took out a whole nest of vamps today, and not a scratch on on either sammy or I, calling that a big win for today,” or sometimes, “had zepp playing while i was driving today. made me think of the mixtape I gave you. do you still have it? do you still listen to it?”

dean really did intend to stop the prayers when chuck was defeated and cas was home and everything was good. but as cas settled next to him, tangling their legs together as his arms wrapped around dean’s waist as they curled up in bed together, cas’ breath huffed against the back of dean’s neck as he teased softly, “what? no prayers anymore now that you’re right here next to me?” and dean couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, suddenly glad cas couldn’t see his face as he tangled their fingers together resting against his chest. closing his eyes, dean prayed silently, ‘now that I’ve got you here, I’ll be damned if I’m letting you go again. now go to sleep,’ and then, after a pause, dean finished the prayer with, ‘I love you too, you know. in case it wasn’t obvious.’ dean both felt and heard the little huff of laughter as cas’ nose nuzzled behind his ear. so maybe the prayers every night were still a ritual, but now it was just another way for dean to tell cas how much he loved him as they lay wrapped up in each other’s arms.

[babyblue-mind]

i recently made a series of 90 minute "mixtapes," if you will, on spotify! they are all mixes i think dean would've made (including the two we know he does make in canon)

i'd love it if anyone wants to give some of them a listen!

edit: added two more!! vv

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

In Plain Sight: Fresh Starts

Summary: The reader and Crew have been living with her parents temporarily while they decide where to live. But Crew may enjoy the convenience of having family close by more than she anticipated...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x daughter!reader (with lots of daughter!reader x OMC)

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Enjoy!

______

“And up!” Laughed Crew as he tossed your little brother up into the air, Zeppelin laughing loudly as Crew caught him in his arms.

“Again!” he pleaded, Crew doing it once more. “Again, Crew!”

“Sorry little bro but it’s time for bed,” he said, Zepp whining when Crew settled him in his hip. “Come on. I let you stay up late if you promised to go to bed when I said so.”

“Fine,” he groaned, Crew chuckling as he gave you a wave and carried him upstairs. You were still grinning on the couch when he returned ten minutes later.

“What’s that look for, kid?” asked Crew as he plopped down next to you, throwing his arm over your shoulders. You only smirked and pushed him to lay flat on his back, Crew’s eyes darkening when you straddled his hips. 

“I love watching you with my siblings. You’re so good with them,” you murmured, leaning down to kiss him.

“My siblings too,” he whispered, closing his eyes when you gripped his hands, pushing them back by either side of his head. “If that’s okay.”

“My silly boy,” you whispered, kissing under his jaw and near his ear just where he liked it. “What’d I tell you about asking dumb questions?”

“I’m a work in progress,” he grunted out, chuckling lightly. “Don’t be all sweet when you’re on top of me.”

“But it turns me on seeing you all happy and loved by your family,” you teased. You gave his hands a squeeze, rocking your hips down against him.

“Ugh. Fine,” he groaned, snapping his hips up when you ground your knee against him. He whimpered when you did it again. And again. “Fuck Y/N.”

You had your tongue halfway down his throat when you heard another throat clear. Your eyes darted upwards and were met with a pair of smirks.

“That’s my girl,” said your dad with a chuckle as you practically jumped backwards off of Crew. 

“Excuse me but that is my girl,” said your mom. Crew  sat up with his back to them, staring at you with pleading eyes. “Crew, sweetie. Relax. I’d be more concerned if you two weren’t trying to get frisky.”

“Thank you, mother. Honey,” you said, shoving a throw pillow over his crotch and grabbing his hand, dragging the two of you down to your room.

“Make smart choices!” teased your dad.

“We so need our own place again,” you sighed, locking the door shut after the two of you. Crew plopped back in the bed with a tired grin. “What?”

“I’ve kinda liked being here the past month. Your side of the house is pretty private to be fair.” You shrugged, reaching behind yourself to take off your bra, climbing into bed beside him. 

“Yeah but in our own place, I can walk around without a bra on which is a benefit for the both of us,” you said, rolling onto your side. You propped your head up against your hand, Crew smirking as he glanced down at your shirt. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Yes,” he said, trailing a finger over the thin cotton of your shirt. “But isn’t it nice to be around people too?”

You watched him trace his finger down further, stopping at the hem of your shirt, tickling the patch of exposed skin.

“Babe. We’re married. I liked when we had our thing. You and me, figuring it all out.” He frowned, pulling back his hand. He had his head turned towards you, eyes glancing downwards, away from your own. “Crew. This is supposed to be temporary while we figure out where we want to live.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I just…”

“I know, babe,” you whispered, inching closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I promise no matter where we go, whether that’s the same city as them or not, you’re not losing them. You’ll always have them.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead. “I do like when you don’t wear a bra though.”

“See? Lot of perks of us having our own place,” you chuckled. “So want to try house hunting again tomorrow?”

“Yeah. By the time we get something lined up it’ll be awhile anyways,” he said, sliding his hand down to your hip. “In the meantime, I can think of a few ways to keep you thoroughly entertained.”

“I bet you can.”

One Week Later

“Relax,” you said to Crew, rubbing his back at the dinner table. You were having a late night drink with your parents and you could tell Crew was having second thoughts about telling them where you’d decided to move.

“We did have one more bottle of that red you like, sweetie,” said your mom, carrying it into the room, cracking it open and pouring a few glasses.

“Thanks,” you said, your dad re-entering with a glass of bourbon in hand. “So we’ve decided on our living situation.”

“Oh you have?” asked your mom. “There’s no rush guys.”

Your dad cleared his throat, giving her a look which surprised you. You’d never gotten a vibe that he had a problem with you and Crew staying there.

“Well there is a slight rush,” said your dad, your parents sharing a look. “Now’s as good a time as any. Mom and I have decided for several reasons that we too would like to move. I want to be somewhere closer to work and these days that means near Toronto for the new show I just signed onto.”

“So the northeast?” you asked, Crew giving you a surprised look. You’d chosen downstate New York as it was close to the city for Crew to get any flight he needed or do work and you had plenty of career opportunities with the business there. Plus he was close to Canada for any work he got there which was just as likely a place as any these days.

“Yeah. Everyone loves seeing real seasons and we think it’ll be a good change. Mom and I have lived in the middle of the country and the west coast so we want to give the east a chance. We’ve been working with a realtor and are going to head out this weekend to view some places if you guys wouldn’t mind watching the gremlins.”

“Of course not,” said Crew, sitting up in his chair. “Where uh, specifically in the northeast?”

They shared a look and smiled. “Not too far from Uncle Jeff and Aunt Hilarie. Same town, maybe a five minute drive. We love it out there whenever we go-”

Crew was beaming, your dad staring at him like he was nuts. “Uh. Crew? What’s going on buddy?”

“That’s where we want to move! Well, close enough, maybe like twenty minutes away, but that’s where we picked cause I have that movie in New York and Y/N has countless options for work,” said Crew, your parents giving you a big smile. 

“You guys are really…” trailed off your mom as you nodded. She shrieked and popped out of her seat, rushing over to hug you.

“That’s amazing,” said your dad, giving Crew a hug and then you. “We had a plan to convince you guys to come to the east coast and everything so you’d at least be close.”

“Well, we may want to crash with you guys until we find our own place,” you said, glancing at Crew. “If that’s cool.”

“Of course,” said your mom. “We’ll figure it all out. Promise.” 

One Month Later

“Oh there’s a little creek behind the house too,” said Crew as you settled in for dinner at your parents' new place in New York. While they’d been busy with moving, you and Crew had focused on trying to find a place of your own nearby. They had a bit more land and open space than either of you were looking for which meant your home search was on the other side of town. But a fifteen minute drive was more than okay with Crew if that meant you got a view of the valley.

“You’ll have to send us the listing,” said your mom, dishing up some food onto your siblings plates. “You guys sure you don’t want to look at the options over here? Our realtor found some really nice places that were smaller. Perfect for just you two.”

“Eh, maybe. I have to be gone for about a month soon and there’s more houses around that side of town. I don’t want Y/N to have to be alone in a big house by herself,” he said. Your dad leaned over to your mom, whispering something in her ear that had her nodding.

“You know the property here is pretty big…we could sell you guys off a parcel of land over the hill…let you build so you’re close but not too close. Y/N’s going to be alone quiet a bit unless she comes with you on projects and once kids come into the picture, that’ll get harder. We know from experience,” said your dad. 

“We need to talk about it. That would definitely mean staying here a bit longer,” you said, Crew shrugging.

“Is that such a terrible thing?” he asked as Zepp shook his shoulder. He smiled and helped your brother cut up his chicken, quickly getting pulled into doing it for Arrow too.

“We’ll look at the land tomorrow,” you said, shoving some food into your mouth. “Oh, I got a job lined up by the way. At least to do promotional work.”

“Oh really? Already in the city?” asked your mom as everyone started to dive into their meals.

“Toronto. It’s only one week,” said Crew, nudging your shoulder. “You didn’t tell them?”

They raised their eyebrows and you smiled. “It’s uh, for a showrunner dad is friends with. I don’t have details but-”

“It’s for my new show,” sighed your dad. “I told him you want to work jobs in the city, not another country.”

“It’s right there,” scoffed Crew. “And it’s only for the promo. It’ll give Y/N and me a chance to see how we do long distance in the short term so we know how to make things work in the future when they get messier.”

“Don’t have good points, child,” said your dad, pointing his fork at Crew. Crew only beamed though, your dad shaking his head. “Alright, alright. You guys have a plan it sounds like. I assume you’re crashing with me then?”

“If my loving father doesn’t mind?” you asked, putting on your best puppy-dog look. He rolled his eyes, your mom tsking him.

“I got a one bedroom lined up already. Don’t complain about sleeping on a pull out couch,” he said, taking an extra large bite of salad. “I was never naked on Supernatural. Why couldn’t you work on that show? First the show with bedroom scenes galore and then this? I swear I’m cursed.”

“Maybe you just like taking your shirt off,” teased your mom. You groaned as they started to playfully tease each other.

“Please tell me that won’t be us,” you mumbled to Crew. He laughed, leaning closer.

“Pretty sure that’s going to be exactly us, kid. I mean, you did pretty much eye fuck me the moment we met. It’s like you wanted to get caught,” he whispered.

“In your dreams, Foxe.”

“Every single one of them,” he said with a wink. You blushed, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. “We don’t have to live so close-”

“I don’t mind. You went too long without a family. I want you to have them nearby.” He pecked a kiss to your lips, your younger siblings groaning. “But we can wait awhile for kids.”

“Agreed,” he chuckled. A voice cleared, your dad shaking his head.

“If y’all are going to make out like it very much looks like, can you do it in private? I’d like to have one moment of peace in my meal,” said your dad.

“Such a diva,” you and your mom said, Crew nearly spitting out his drink when he tried to laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah. Well he’s a diva in training then,” said your dad, nodding at Crew. 

After dinner, your dad pulled him aside out on the patio, your mom bumping your hip while you helped her wash up. “What’s up?”

“Dad’s having a chat with your husband about how to deal with being long distance which you probably will be sometimes. But take our advice and try to go together when you can at this age. You can’t get the time back,” she said. You slowly dried your hands off, watching them out the back window. 

“I know. I’m only doing the promo stuff and then Kripke’s going to help me get in a good set in the city he said. I’ll only be gone a week or so. Crew’s been alone enough in his life. I want him to be able to come home to someone at night or drive down the road and pop in here and hang out for awhile. He’s already decided once we do have kids someday, he’ll only take projects in New York, no matter what so he can be there for us. He can work and I’ll shift into freelance photography and-”

“That’s a nice plan and all,” she laughed. “But it’s gonna change. He’s gonna get a job offer he loves that’s halfway across the country and you’re gonna tell him to go because it makes him so happy. You’ll learn what works best for you both. The only advice I can give is talk. Never stop talking, even the days you’re both exhausted. You are not in his shadow just because he’s famous. Your dreams matter as much as his.”

“He thinks mine matter more actually,” you said, glancing down.

“That’s why we know he’s a good one. He’s a good boy,” she said giving you a hug you happily returned. “Plus it’s such a turn on when a big strong guy is more than willing to be on bottom-”

“Thank you for the thoughtful moment and emotional scarring mother!” you said, quickly walking away. “I’ll try to forget that ever happened!”

You walked outside, Crew as white as a ghost, your dad ruffling your head as he slipped inside. “Honey? You okay?”

“Some things stay between a man and his father-in-law,” mumbled Crew, shaking his head out. “Are you good? I saw you talking to your mom.”

“Yeah, just getting some advice,” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Caught you.”

He chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “I guess you did Mrs. Foxe. Lucky me.”

________

[princelylove]

i am slowly getting more and more annoyed with mr zeppeli himself i ate my fingers as i read your response to my ask AJAJHSUSH. thank you so much your highness i am burning my whole house rn.

actually, which yanderes do you think would be the most ANNOYING. like, not violent or anything but just plain annoying. the kind of people that make you wanna tear your hair out or commit a slow and painful murder.

(inspired heavily by narancia because i have a feeling he would be the most annoying little shit to deal with)

-🌸 anon

What an adorable thing you are. Don’t bite too hard, it’ll hinder your ability to compliment me. 

Oh, God. Most annoying to me, personally? Not in any order in particular, I feel as if this one would change depending on my mood:

Bruno hovers too much, and he tends to both infantilize and put a lot of responsibility on his darling. He expects his darling to parent Narancia but won’t let them handle a knife by themself. I’m doing a character study on him right now, so that’s all I’ll say, but just know that he is God’s punishment for whatever you did in a past life to deserve him.

Narancia is annoying- he’s a young guy who never got taught how to deep clean, spends his free time on his pull up bar, expects you to cook for him since he’s literally never been tasked with it, whines when you try to get up and go to the bathroom in the middle of your six hours minimum long cuddling session, doesn’t know how to properly take care of an entire human being so just throws junk food at you and hopes you don’t starve, the list goes on. He loves you, he really does, he just doesn’t know what he’s doing. For someone as prissy as myself, I would die the first day. He doesn’t understand why I put those rollers in my hair- he just watched me straighten it, doesn’t that cancel out??? That’s stupid, oh, and another thing, what’s the point of owning five different versions of the same color of nail polish? It’s all red! Just have one, that isn’t crazy expensive! On top of Narancia being the worst roommate ever- he’s very irritable, and doesn’t really have a problem pulling a knife on you to get what he wants. He’s not as quick to snap as people think, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. Show signs of liking something more than him and he’ll maul it. 

It’s hard to set Cioccolata and Secco away from each other, they’re basically inseparable, but Cioccolata is capable of using logic, and Secco is not. If you’re on the ground in pain, obviously you’re going to have a hard time answering the little puppy’s questions. Secco doesn’t understand why you won’t play with him- he’s shoving his toy right in front of you, are you blind?? Play! With! Him! Throw it, play tug of war, SOMETHING, COME ON. There’s an interesting dynamic depending on who exactly you’re intended for- Cioccolata, Secco, or both. Let’s just talk about Secco alone, since Cioccolata isn’t annoying, he’s just a bit too affectionate sometimes. Secco’s forgetful, rude, jumps to conclusions, and you don’t even know what he looks like since he’s always wearing that bitch suit-esque thing. He nudges you to throw his toy- he probably thinks of you as human rather than another dog, and doesn’t understand why you aren’t behaving like Cioccolata does. If you were Cioccolata’s darling alone, or a shared darling, he’d probably think of you as another dog. But he was here first, so he’s got dibs on the good dog bed, AND cioccolata’s lap. As if you’d want that. Secco begs and begs and begs for you to give him as much attention as you possibly can- and somehow, you’re never doing it right. It’s like talking to a child who has surpassed the ‘Why?’ stage and has moved on to greater conquests- annoying you so badly that you ask Cioccolata if it’s fine to have a sip of his ‘not for dogs’ drink. Or two. Or three. Or the entire bottle. 

Rohan doesn’t ever shut the fuck up. He quite literally always has something to say, despite wanting to “observe.” He read an article this morning, let’s go visit the place it mentioned even though it’s a three hour train ride and supposed to rain for the rest of the week. He always wants to go explore- even when he promised that you could both stay home today and do something you want to do. It doesn’t make sense to Rohan- why wouldn’t you want to go see what the world has to offer? Probably because this is the fourth temple he’s wanted to visit this week and you don’t feel like going up two hundred stairs. (If his darling cannot walk, he makes sure it’s accessible beforehand. You’re not getting out of coming with him.) Rohan’s big on healthy living, and he feels a sense of superiority for eating right, and working out very consistently. He wants his darling to be perfectly well as well- how can he push you to your limits if you’re not at your best? You’d probably sleep better if he stopped talking for three hours past his initial ‘goodnight.’ 

Hazamada… is… he’s certainly a character! The literal only reason why he isn’t forcing himself upon his darling is because he’s too much of a coward- and that’s not my interpretation, that’s canon. His hobbies include bullying kittens and small animals, not showering, collecting manga, stalking idols, and tennis! Isn’t that nice, he does sports, he’s only a basement dweller half of the time. It isn’t even somewhat attractive when he tries to get it on with his darling, he’s like a dog humping your leg. He’s the type to call you a stupid bitch because you politely suggested he should wear deodorant before he hits on you. He’s canonically an exhibitionist- imagine sitting in class and looking over to check the clock and he’s just staring back at you while adjusting his pants. I’d switch schools. 

[orphetoon]

Different person, I desire info on the ace attorney au

HI SORRY THIS IS LIKE A MONTH OLD AT THIS POINT

idk if i'll ever do more art bc when will i ever be interested in jjba AND aa at the same time again but just for you. the rough timeline of the entire au

PART 1: PHANTOM ATTORNEY

basically phantom blood but without vampires. jonathan is a defense attorney, the assistant switches between erina and speedwagon; first case is probably defending speedwagon. zeppeli isn't a hamon user here, but rather a spirit medium who gives jonathan some training. jonathan can't actually talk to ghosts, his ability is probably more similar to apollo's; maybe he can sense someones spirit 'wavering', aka when they're unsure.

main antagonist is dio, who is the opposing attorney. he's done a lot of shit he's never gotten caught for, but jonathan manages to reveal his crimes in the final case. dio gets sentenced to death, rip king.

PART 2: uh. battle tendency doesn't happen here.

idk how long it would've taken someone to get executed back in ye olde england times but for this au its long enough for jonathan to have at least two kids. one of these is george ii (joseph's dad), the other will create a branch family (aka giornos gotta exist somehow)

shortly after dio's execution, he forms as a vengeful spirit and is able to forcibly possess jonathan and kill him. dio's a bitch tho and continues to possess joestars whenever possible, but due to uh. reasons? he's not able to kill the next generation of joestars until they have had their own kids. deciding that going after the whole lineage would be tiring, dio just decides to focus on joseph and his descendants.

PART 3: jotaro fucks up

joseph manages to spirit train well enough that dio can't possess him or whatever, and lives a long life. holly manages to avoid him as well. jotaro was on the track to be strong enough to shut dio out, but decided to be an idiot 17 year old and try to banish dio for good. by some means both he and dio fail at their goals, and jotaro is stuck with dio...not really possessing him, but giving running commentary 24/7. joots tries to live with it for awhile, but the thought that dio could eventually succeed in possessing him and hurting those around him (aka baby jolyne) causes him to distance himself from everyone.

PART 4: AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

apologies to josuke for stealing his part number.

anyway. almost completely unrelated to all that, pannacotta fugo is a prodigy prosecuting attorney who has one of the highest success rates in the country. he has a found family sort of thing with the rest of bucci's gang, who he's all advised on legal matters at some point. they (sans fugo) run a restaurant; this isn't important at all to the au, i just like the idea. anyway, fugo's life is pretty good, until.

giorno fucking giovanna.

he arrives out of nowhere and quickly becomes the best defense in the country, even tho he's younger than fugo (both of them are too young to be attorneys, but this is aa). doesn't matter if his client is clearly guilty, giorno can get them off the hook (he only takes clients he believes should be seen as innocent, but giorno has his own interesting moral system). these two idiots battle it out in the courtroom, until bucciarati is framed for a murder.

unable to defend him, fugo turns to the only person he can, giorno. giorno completely clears bucci's name, unraveling the truth of the case - aka taking down diavolo, who's organized most of the crimes in this 'game'. since trish is the assistant for this game, she becomes kinda the main character during the final case lol. either way diavolo goes to jail, and both gio and trish are sort of folded into the bucci gang.

PART 5: GHOSTS ARE REAL

the second 'game' would be giorno with jolyne as an assistant; he clears her from the vehicular manslaughter and both of them resolve to solve the conspiracy behind it (it's pucci. pucci's behind it). josuke is here as a side character, being a police detective

the final case involves revealing pucci's crimes and jolyne finding a way to free her father from dio's spirit. no universe reset here lads :)

50/50 onto whether giorno finds out he's actually related to the joestars or not. he still bills them either way

PART 6: feedback investigations

fugo gets his own games but idk a whole lot about the investigations games so uh! lets just say its normal aa shenanigans with the purple haze feedback characters in there as well

[thepepsislvt]

Gyro headcannons :)

Sam said it’s my week with gyro and I get to write for him >:) any I’ve been living SBR headrot for the past few days :’) enjoy

oh lawd give me strength

he is such a pretty man

and he knows this and knows you think so as well in which he’ll tease you abt it and be like “I’m your pretty man” or something like “you can’t bully me, I’m pretty”

this man istg

hes a handful but thankfully you have two hands for him

every time he catches you even looking his direction he’ll give his goofy ah“go! Go! Zeppeli!” Smile

his signature nyo-hos make you WEAK

hes so cute istg

please play with his hair

brush it, braid it, dye it he doesn’t care just please pet his hair or something he loves it

will put his hat on you when you’re least expecting it

mans a great kisser

but he does try to turn every lil peck to a full make out session

doesn’t even care if people are around he wanna make sure everyone knows you are taken by the Great Zeppeli

he also rlly likes seeing his green lipstick smudged across your face

you have complained abt it before but he doesn’t listen so you don’t try to stop it at this point

he loves physical touch and will hug you from behind at any given moment

Kisses on your head

arm around your waist

head on your shoulder

he will do anything to get to feel you literally every moment he can

when you’re insecure abt something he will literally shower you in praise

youre chubby? “That’s okay that means you can crush my head 😌”

self harm scars? Kisses every single individual one for you and whispers praises in Italian

even though you may not understand it’s the thought that counts 🤷

if you’re trans or nonbinary

supper supportive, literally will punch anyone who uses the wrong name or pronouns on purpose

he’s just a goofy guy

the real dumbassery starts when you two hang out with johnny

my guy doesn’t know how to shut up because he’s got his two favorite people in the world

will bully Johnny and you for no reason besides love

give this man a hug for me he deserves the world

[lovesickval3ntine]

A LITTLE THING IM WORKING ON. ALL THE TWS

The odor of blood and decay suffocates Adam as it radiates throughout the pitch-black bathroom.

Zep's lifeless body lies a few feet in front of him, his body bloated and discolored, he vaguely feels maggots squirm on his ankle, eating away at the dying flesh around the raw welts but he can't bring himself to care.

Adam shivers as he leans against the cold pipe of the bathroom, the bullet wound on his shoulder burns as it rubs against the fabric of his shirt, causing him to groan and squeeze his eyes shut in pain.

In his feverish daze, he wonders if Lawrence will come back for him.

He promised, Lawrence promised, he wouldn't lie to him.

Would he?

Adam stares at his hands in front of him as he flickers in and out of consciousness, they shake violently.

Adam feels his hunger deep in his bones, leaving him aching and weak. He lets his head fall into his weak hands, furiously shaking as he begins to hear an all too familiar voice.

"I wouldn't lie to you” a familiar voice whispers harshly against his ear. Despite the words being said, the voice makes every muscle in Adam tense in fear.

"You're not real, shut up!" Adam grits out between clenched teeth, his voice dry and strained as it echoes throughout the empty bathroom, his fingers itch for a cigarette now more than ever.

“It doesn't matter now, does it? You're dying Adam” The doctor's calm voice says, devoid of any emotion.

As Adam attempts to hold back the tears that threaten to fall, he clamps his hands over his ears roughly to muffle the echoing whispers of Lawrence.

It doesn't help, his voice sounds just as close and clear as it did before.

Tears start to fall off Adam's sunken cheeks and sharp jaw as he finally breaks out in sobs, strained apologies, and confessions are whispered frantically.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry” Adam cries as his wails echo around the bathroom, “I want to live, please let me live, please come back” he whispers as his grip around his ears tightens.

Adam passes out with his head in between his arms for what has to be hours before he jumps up, woken up to bloodcurdling screams echoing all around him, his skull vibrates from the volume as he recognizes Zep's screams, the screams he caused.

But Zep was dead.

Wasn't he?

Adam slowly opens his eyes (when did he close them?) and looks a few feet in front of him where Zep’s corpse is supposed to be, he can smell the decaying flesh and the metallic blood covering them but Zep's body is gone, even in the dark bathroom he can tell that Zep’s body is gone.

Adam strains his eyes to make out the details in the darkness, he frantically looks around as things come into focus, Zep had to be in the bathroom with him.

He remembers the feeling of warm blood splattering onto him, covering him in the sticky red substance. He remembers when Zepp’s skull cracked under him as his adrenaline-filled body smashed, smashed, smashed away Zep’s only chance at life.

Adam looked around the bathroom as best as he could when he noticed a glint of metal in the bathtub, and sure enough, Zep's rotting corpse lay at the bottom of the bathtub with his gun lying in his left hand and his tape on top of his chest. Adam reaches his arm towards Zep's gun and just as his fingers whisper over the handle of the pistol Zep's rotting arm reaches up and grabs the small of his wrist with bruising strength.

“There are rules” Zep’s corpse whispers as he yanks Adam by the wrist roughly, making him hiss.

“you should be dead,” the corpse whispers calmly, “You wanted to die” Zep digs his blood-covered fingernails deep into Adam’s wrist, Adam winces and uses the rest of his strength to rip his wrist out of Zep's hold and sink back into the corner, laying his head against the chilled pipe behind him.

Zep continues to whisper nonsense Adam can't quite make out through the pounding of his head, bright hot pain shocks him as it runs through his body in a wave.

~NOT DONE~

[tubbypeddle]

Have any headcannons for how Kaeya would interact with a traveler who's eerily like Gyro Zeppeli from Steel Ball Run? Like Traveler has a similar background and ability but with the exact same personality as him.

THIS!!!! WAS ACTUALLY SO CREATIVE????? I was actually so excited to work on this one, especially since I recently got back into playing genshin.

and with one of my favorite boys from the game 🤭

(author's note: i'll be using they/them pronouns for the traveler in this one, just in case you want to use specifically aether or lumine in your imaginations. also, I haven't read part 7 in a very long time, so my remembering of gyro might be a little off, I apologize if that's the case

I also apologize for the slight hiatus in posts, I was a little busy with personal stuffs, but i'm back!

gyro zeppeli!traveler x Kaeya Alberich

-their pathological need for helping people is something he greatly appreciates about them. It's certainly made life easier for him, since they're so ever eager to help him out

-he does wish they were a little reckless with it though...

-for example, they can't just be rushing off to save him if he's in a bit of trouble with treasure hoarders!! stupid traveler!! he's got everything under control!!!

-how easy they are to irritate is also very amusing...

The traveler seems upset as Kaeya leads them by their horse away from the horse race, much to his amusement.

"Kaeya," they huff. "They cut me off."

"You're not a part of the race, Honorary Knight," he laughs in reply.

"Tell them to eat shit, Kaeya."

"Tell them yourself."

The traveler seems a little too excited at that. Immediately, they turn towards the race, cup their hands around their mouth, and holler, "Eat shit, asshole! Fall off your horse!"

-yeah, that was...quite the incident. Kaeya hadn't laughed that hard in what was probably years, and he damn near fell off his own horse

-they definitely named their horse Valkyrie

-they probably flirt back with him when he gets sensual with them, and Kaeya's never had someone entertain his flirting before. it definitely caught him off guard the first time. and the second. And third...Kaeya will never get used to the traveler flirting back, really

-the two of them never run out of small little competitions. Kaeya thought he was competitive, from a childhood raised alongside Diluc. But the traveler was a whole other level.

-while the traveler didn't really openly cheat, they certainly played dirty. they are willing to do anything if it means they can win.

-he does find their tendency to quote old folktales as life lessons pretty cute, even if he has no idea who the hell Aristotle is.

-your gags, and your puns, and your little skits are so fucking funny to him, but not because he actually finds them funny, you know?

-your little skits and stuff are so funny because he finds them so unfunny. like, he likes you n all, but you look so dumb, he just can't.

-it's partly the reason he accompanies them on their travel across Teyvat, because he finds them so unfunnily funny

-but the main reason he travels with them is because they're good company. they're funny, and they're protective, and they're a good friend to have while on the road.

"What...what is this? What are you doing?" Kaeya's eye was trained on the Traveler as they started making odd little...motions, with their hands. Nodded their head, as if they were dancing to a tune only they could hear.

"Shut up, you're throwing me off my groove," the Traveler huffed. Started nodding their head rhythmically again. "Okay. Okay, I got it."

"You got it?" Kaeya snorted. "What did you get?"

Before he could say anything else, the Traveler started humming a tune he's never heard before. Just where did this Traveler even come from?

"Pizza mozza~rella! Pizza mozza~rella! Lela, lela, lela, lela, lela, lela, lee~!" they sang, in an off key tune.

Kaeya could only watch as the Traveler danced in circles as they sung at the top of their lungs. He couldn't help the fierce surge of fondness in his chest as he laughed at how stupid they looked.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

I think if I die they should do my makeup like Billy from Saw and make the organist just play a hello, zepp medley the entire time and then as everyone gets up to leave the doors should slam shut and lock and activate an old tape recorder instructing them on the rules of the new saw trap I have captured them in because if I’m dead I deserve one last chance to take them down with me and crucially the organist should still keep playing unbothered by the screams of people dying and essentially evoke whatever the pianist from Paul Blart Mall Cop 2 had going on.

[agentperezbian]

Can you explain the saw ending please? Thank you

I thought you'd never ask, anon.

So throughout the movie we see Lawrence Gordon and Adam Stanheight chained up in the bathroom, and it cuts to the perspectives of two other characters - Detective Tapp, and Lawrence's wife Allison, who is tied up with their daughter, Diana, and being threatened by an unseen man with a gun. We are lead to believe, up to this point, that the man with the gun IS the Jigsaw killer. He's actually Zepp, the orderly that we saw in a flashback earlier in the film.

One of the twists of the movie is that Zepp was actually playing his own game, having been told that there is a slow-acting poison in his veins that will kill him if he doesn't do exactly what Jigsaw says, which includes holding Allison and Diana Gordon hostage until Lawrence and Adam are done with their game, and killing them if Lawrence fails.

Lawrence goes past the allotted time of six hours, technically failing his game, so Zepp tries to kill Allison and Diana, but Tapp shows up and the Gordons manage to escape. Meanwhile, Lawrence goes through with cutting his foot off to escape his chain, believing his wife and child to be potentially dead. He reaches the gun and shoots Adam, fulfilling his task, but late.

Adam isn't dead and was only wounded (in the shoulder) so when Zepp shows up to kill Lawrence for breaking The Rules and going past his time limit, Adam beats the shit out of him with a toilet lid, leading to Lawrence and Adam's ✨️love scene✨️ where they embrace and Lawrence tells Adam he will come back with help for him, before crawling away.

This is where the twist comes into play. Adam, believing he has killed the Jigsaw killer, searches Zepp's pockets to find some way to free himself from his chain. Instead, he finds the tape that reveals Zepp was merely another player - a pawn. The "dead guy" in the middle of the room then stands up - he's the real Jigsaw killer, John Kramer. The patient that Lawrence had been telling his students about in the flashback of the hospital previously. He's a cancer patient who, upon realizing he only has months to live, tests other people who he deems to be wasting their gift of life through deadly games, often requiring people to mutilate themselves or endure extreme pain to survive.

Adam watches in horror as John tells him he has failed and locks him in the bathroom, shutting off the lights and leaving him in the dark to die. It was never really clear what Adam needed to do to survive, but it's implied that his chance depended on the key that was in the bathtub with him, which went down the drain before he woke up.

[pinkfoxsodas]

Warning Saw X Spoilers of John Kramer Take

I will admit I am bias because I’m still angry about what happened to my fave character Adam, but I can’t help point out the flaws of Jigsaw’s own hypocrisy. However, just because I’m going explain why I think John is kind of a hypocrite, doesn’t mean I hate the character; in fact I think he’s the most interesting villain of the series. I just can’t stop thinking about this because I’ve had this opinion on John Kramer for a long time. I think John is a selfish and bitter person because of his situation that he even convinced himself that his actions are justified.

In Saw X, when John was tricked into thinking his cancer was gone, he was drawing one of his latest traps in his sketchbook. But decided to throw it away in the trash because he no longer wants to continue his work. If John truly believed he was doing the right thing, why not continue setting traps now that he no longer has to worry about dying? It proved that John was bitter of his own situation that he was going to die and all these people he believed that were wasting their lives, will never have to experience limited life. It made me think of the timer he gives his victims, like 3 minutes to live and he has 3 months.

And what about the people who have no choice but to be props for someone else’s test? John specifically targets people to test and is willing to sacrifice others for that one specific person. Test subjects like Lawrence, Jeff, William etc. A person’s life hangs on balance of someone’s else’s choice. Amanda had to kill a guy to get the key out to save herself, while he didn’t get the chance to fight for his own life. William had to choose which of his employees he had to spare while killing the others. Lawrence had to kill Adam a stranger to save his family who by the way were also props to Zepp’s test. I’ll come back to Diana later. And the people used as props for Jeff’s test were people that Jeff felt were responsible for the death of his son or let his son’s killer walk free. It was like John never saw them as people. He’s always on about respecting life, but how can he when he uses people as objects for another person’s test? And some of those people didn’t do anything wrong but be related or work for the person that John is testing. Like Joyce Dangen, she didn’t know that Bobby lied and yet when he loses his game she’s the one who has to suffer and die. And John can argue all he wants that the reason those people died was because of the subject failed their test, but that’s not true. John was the one who put them in those traps and kept them immobilized. He used them as tools for that one specific person he was testing. People he believed that deserved to be tested or to be turned into one of his followers. John wanted Lawrence to survive, because he needed someone like Lawrence skills for his tests.

John also has a black and white view of the world. He does not see grey, meaning he doesn’t really try to understand why a person makes the wrong choices in life. But he’s very quick to judge a person’s character just from first impressions, like Adam for example who he deemed angry and pathetic. The whole game was made for Lawrence and Adam was just added there and we don’t have much information on him like Lawrence. And he has a bias on people who have drug addictions. When Amanda tried to reason why Gabriela did what she did because of addiction, Jigsaw immediately shut her down. Yes what Gabriela did was wrong, but she wasn’t as messed up as Cecilia who did it for money and has no problem killing people.John had just said that everyone has free will, but how would he know if he never experienced addiction? Amanda understood because she was just like Gabriela. But it could also be because he still held a grudge against Cecil who was responsible for his wife’s miscarriage because he wanted to steal drugs.

Now the subject to children. I was glad to see that John had humanity to see that Carlos was just an innocent child who didn’t deserve to be put in a life and death situation. But it brings back the hypocrisy when we see Diana, Daniel and Corbett who again are used as props for their parent’s test. Yes they were saved, but they were traumatized through their ordeals and will mostly suffer from ptsd. And Daniel lost his dad and Corbett is now an orphan. And Diana only survived because Allison was able to get out of their restraints and Detective Tapp was able to rescue them on time. If none of that happened, Zepp most likely would have killed them because John told him if he did, Zepp would be given an antidote to survive his poisoning. John I don’t know if he would have given Zepp the antidote if he had killed the Gordon family, because he might have been disgusted by the death of a child. But Zepp followed the rules of his game and John would have just blamed Lawrence for their deaths instead or wouldn’t have cared because again they were just props. Never accepting that he was responsible for kid a dying and would have blamed either Zepp or Lawrence.

I would have said more but this rant is too long and I just wanted to get this off my chest. I do love Saw and I enjoy the characters, but I will bring up their flaws when I’m talking to friends about Jigsaw! And since Saw X made me sympathetic towards John it also reminded how unfair he was towards his victims.

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

(Meanwhile, in the Seaphire Heartverse...)

Mer! Jonathan: "At last! I'm me again!" *wiggles his tail* "And I've got my beautiful whale shark tail back! I could look at it all day!" *happily watches his fins move back and forth*

Seawitch! Dio: *now a clam* "NOOOO! You can't leave me like this! I hate getting sand in my mouth and being carried around!"

Mer! Jonathan: "I suppose it'll improve your character significantly to go through MY experiences for a while!"

(The other clams, now back to their original mer forms, gather around)

Mer! Erina: "Hmph! I say we leave him that way forever!"

Mer! Speedwagon: "I say we throw him to the mercy of the sea otters!"

Mer! Zeppeli: "And I say we make clam chowder out of that bastard!"

Mer! Jonathan: "Now, now, we're not doing any of that, even if the sea otter idea was kind of funny. We're going to help him turn over a new kelp leaf, and help him return to being a mer again! But only if he promises to be nice... at least comparatively. So, my dear bivalve brother, do you promise?"

Dio: *shuts his shell and refuses to talk*

Mer! Jonathan: *sigh* "This will take a while."

Jonathan: after all these years he finally shut the shell up!

Octoyasu: *on underwater drums* BUH DUM TSSSSSSS

Van-eel-a: *rubbing the shell* poor sire...

Tippy: he'll be fine, he just needs time to... Come out of his shell!

[slowd1ving]

PENDULUM ✦ . 　⁺ xiv.

O VIRTUS SAPIENTIAE ALIO MODO (HILDEGAARD VON BINGEN)

"O virtus, o virtus." wc: 10.7k

JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE MASTERLIST

PENDULUM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

PREVIOUS PART ・゜NEXT PART

“Ha…”

It had been easy enough to ignore the dry, sweltering sun at first. Summer by summer, the Ferdinand Institute had glowed amber in the Arizona heat. Even within the cold, impassive stone walls, the rays that stirred up the dust motes were uncomfortably warm. But this–

Perspiration dotted your face and palms, soaking uncomfortably into your gloves and adhering your shirt to you. The crimson jacket was already tied tightly around your waist, yet the heat already had you rolling up the sleeves far past the elbows.

It’ll be fine. Your gloves covered the most recognisable part of your tattoos; the only caveat was now the distinctive colours from the lines on your skin. There was not a whisper of any soul since you’d departed that small town hours ago, and the two souls you were worried about recognising those lines had already left before you. 

But, was the trembling in your hands due to worry? Your mind was a perfect ellipse, catapulting between intense agitation and a frightening calm. Had you focused solely on the discrepancies in your thoughts, you would’ve failed to notice the arrhythmia of the pulse within your stomach. And had you focused solely on that pounding sensation, you would’ve failed to notice the heady smile toying with your lips.

It can’t be. 

Were you excited?

You touched your lips in awe – once, twice, just to be sure. It was undeniable. Anticipation burned through your blood vessels as if it was Phlegethon itself: lighting each capillary in boundless streaks of incandescence. 

Confrontation was inevitable. It had been quiet. Too quiet, for a race with dozens of Stand users supposedly in the mix. You could feel it in the air: threading and cleaving through the molecules like fate itself dragging you by your marionette strings. 

That shadowy figure was hounding you from all sides, pressing into Group Four’s flanks: unrelenting, as an enemy should be. The weight at your hip swung heavy with each breath. 

And with a confrontation, there’d be information exchanged. 

You wouldn’t fail.

You couldn’t.

“ Ha,” your lungs burned in indignation. Words tumbled out of your larynx as if to quell your disquieted mind. “There’s a small chance that the person I see today won’t be someone to fight. They could, coincidentally, just be a user that entered the race.”

Still. The taste of iron entered your mouth as your teeth finally broke the skin of your cracked lips. It was far more likely that you’d be confronting someone from either the President’s faction or someone after Zeppeli’s bounty. Though, you doubted it was the latter since there hadn’t been any witnesses of your brief contact with the man.

Since they’re all dead, you thought grimly. 

Well, that was one way of resolving any potential issues of associating with him. 

That just left the President’s faction. It was unlikely that they were as sophisticated and wide-spread as they were in the present day, yet you knew you needed to exercise utmost caution when dealing with them. You’d bait them if possible – and if confronted head-on – so that your arsenal only consisted of a pistol.  

And you’d leave no witnesses.

No, perhaps you could bait them in other ways. If it was eventually revealed you had a Stand, you could control the information about it. No matter how useless, the only facet you could display was Words Like Violence. Absolutely under no circumstances could you carelessly reveal just how valuable Personal Jesus could be.

[ I’m flattered. ]

Shut it. 

After all, those who are killed first in combat are medics, are they not? Another grim thought to mull over. 

Information warfare had been his specialty all those decades into the future. Resistance, guerilla or otherwise, had been shut down meticulously and viciously. Any loose threads had been cut off. 

Except for you. 

The corpse was the President’s biggest strength and greatest weakness. 

He was scrupulous with details, even in the past. But not as much as his future self. The Valentine of your time was only a shadow here: emerging slowly but surely, but not yet emerged.  

At this point, that monster still made mistakes. 

If you were being honest, that was the crucial part of your plan. There was no hope otherwise. Valentine may still have the crude methods of the past in this time, but you didn’t want to face him even if it was only a year or two from here. 

Really, that stupid head gave you the most opportune time to make your move. 

And it was quiet, but that small voice within your sternum was pressing butterfly-light against your flesh: thank you.

Thank you for letting me change the future.

It was like a small kiss from fate, placed on the apple of your cheek affectionately. 

That’s right. I mustn't forget.

You could save Dr Amsa. 

. 　⁺ ✦

“You think I could reinvent the GPS?” you griped. A firm thumbprint was currently being etched upon the delicate glass of the compass that taunted you with its gleam. Unless you were mistaken – and you absolutely couldn’t be mistaken – your navigation skills weren’t terrible. 

Slowing Group Four to an leisurely amble, you pored over the wrinkled map in your fingers, peeking at your surroundings every few seconds to match the topography of what you saw to what was on the map. 

“If I consider that range in the distance, and that path over there–”

You were Lost, with a capital L. 

Briefly, you considered sending Group Four back and wallowing in embarrassment within the piercing sun. I can’t do that, you thought despairingly. No matter how bad it got, dignity was the one thing you’d hold on to, unless it got in the way of getting back to the future. Besides, under no circumstances did you want word of this to reach Diego’s ears – even if you had decided you didn’t care what he thought of you.

“ Fuck–” The drawn out sigh had your eyes closing in exasperation. There had to have been something you missed, within those neatly chequered lines and worn edges. Look closer, idiot. Slipping a pencil out of your pocket, you lightly dotted the area of the village checkpoint, before tracing the rough pathway you’d been taking for the past few hours. Forty kilometres. Within that radius from the village, you flashed as a red dot on the map in your mind. 

Somewhere here. There were three possible quadrants you could’ve ended up in. The first, due north on the faded paper, boasted flat plains of which there were none in your sights. While there were signs of the sloping hills and rock formations that littered the region, there was a particularly distinctive cluster further south in the third. 

Alone against the fearsome winds, it stood proud at the eye of the maelstrom: a grey mountain, or more accurately, clustered pillars of stone that had borne against the harsh climate for centuries. A bastion of hope – your lighthouse in this sea of sand. It was a mere few hundred or so metres from here, well within range of walking. You’d regroup and reorient yourself in the dizzying landscape at those sanctified pillars, before continuing on. 

You froze. Can’t be.

There was something glimmering up there, undetectable to your eyes. No, you’d sensed something from up there; it itched at your skin, clawing to get out with ferocious madness. 

“Ha!” It bubbled out, disbelief spilling from your lips as you let out an incredulous laugh. This oily feeling pervading your senses could only be the very thing you’d anticipated!

A chance for information!

Dismounting, you dusted yourself off before covering yourself with your jacket once more. Whoever it was, hiding far away indicated a wide-range of protection; there was no need to involve the Appaloosa in whatever onslaught occurred. 

“Stay here girl,” you crooned, leading the mare behind a boulder and into the cooler shade. Her soft nose brushed your cheek, blowing hot air right on your face with what could only be mischievousness. “You–”

“I’ll be fine,” you tacked on, coughing to hide the giggle that threatened escape. “Just don’t get noticed and I’ll return right as rain.”

I’m not the one talking to a horse. Stupid Diego. What did he know? Though she didn’t understand your words, Group Four understood the intent behind them. She understood , and for that she was friend enough. 

Your gun jostled against bone. The leather body of the holster was sequestered firmly beneath sanguine fabric: the false pool of blood that rippled in the sun. You took a deep breath. There was no backing out now.

Stay with me.

Despite all the bravado propelling your limbs earlier, those strings had been cut and you were a useless marionette once more. The fear was dizzying; each step coaxed your heart into your mouth and let the organ plummet back to limbo. 

[ I’m here. ]

Stupid. Since when did that spirit induce that ticklish sensation in your chest? It was stupid, you were stupid –

“Fuck,” you heaved, wiping the sweat from your drenched brow with your damp glove. Wobbling slightly, you let go of the boulder that had been supporting your weight and took the first step into the trap. And another. And another, until you were back under the watchful sun. 

“Who could you be? Who could you possibly be?” you breathed. The precarious sway in your steps was meant to be feigned, but you’d slipped into it like a second skin. No, it wasn’t even a second skin. It was real – the fear – much like the sand crunching beneath worn soles. 

You had no way of knowing who you’d face. Perhaps it was someone who’d kill you in the same instant you made yourself known, or someone who’d draw your death out until you wept blood. If you were lucky, your trembling could be chalked up to dehydration rather than acute fear. If you were lucky, you wouldn’t be suspected of knowing about the trap in the first place.

In your palm, the pulse of time fluttered like a second heart. 

14:37

You almost considered abandoning your principles and summoning Depeche Mode. But you couldn’t. Even with the panic clouding the echo chamber of your mind, you knew to not play all your cards. 

14:38

The stage was set.

( Enter left. Clutching a red jacket tiredly, the weary fool walks through the desert. They are marked with heaving breaths and a trembling body, appearing utterly exhausted and utterly guileless of the danger those footsteps lead them towards. )

As if beckoned by a director, you heard the mechanical sounds of metal grinding against metal.

You stopped breathing. 

There, suspended by two slowly descending feathers, were metal hooks swaying dangerously left and right. Those steel ropes that held the heavy, sharp weapons resembled snakes more than a simple system of winches and pulleys.

The star of the show has appeared.

Trance-like, the hooks danced lightly in the breeze. They glimmered innocently – yet, you had the horrible feeling they were watching . That glint in the silver was like the speck of light in a human iris: analytical, probing, dangerous.

“Ha,” you clutched at your head. Lethargy came to you naturally – those hooks still watched your act, and you watched them from your peripherals. The wide brim of your hat concealed the harsh set of your eyes, and the bandanna your lower face; you had to exaggerate your movements if you wanted the trap to be sprung. 

You tilted your head back and closed your eyes. Dropping your guard could potentially end in your life just being snuffed out, but you got the feeling the user operating the two winches was too curious to pass you up. 

Take me.

You thought you were prepared. Your body had braced itself like tensing before an injection – anticipation. Then, the hooks had pierced through your skin. A scream tore hoarse from your throat. 

It was excruciating. Blood slicked down your arms, and all you could feel was the white-hot pain that pulsed in tandem with your heartbeat. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck–” you could taste the iron on your tongue. It was filling your mouth out, the sanguine liquid dripping from your lips and soaking into the cloth. Salty tears broke through the coppery tongue, and you wept with agony as the hooks twisted through your skin. 

You were writhing, and your body was on fire. 

You were rising, and the sun was melting the wax off your manmade wings.

You were plummeting, and there was nothing that could save you. 

Please be over soon. 

“What do we have here?” 

A piece of flesh was half-attached to the inside of your cheek. Had you bitten it? Was that where all the blood had come from?

“I haven’t seen you hanging around Jyoshter, so who the hell could you be?”

There was blood crusting over your sleeves, yet the injury had settled to a dull throb. Had you passed out? You stifled a grunt of pain, and kept your eyes closed.

What’s the situation?

[You passed out around ten minutes ago and managed to activate Personal Jesus. Congratulations.]

What? You fought to keep yourself still. Panic ebbed and flowed in your mind. Over and over, you could hear your heart crashing within your head – as if the desperation could possibly save you.

[You unconsciously wanted to make yourself as small as possible, so I became the size of your palm – which he didn’t notice. You’re not completely healed to avoid suspicion, but the internal rupturing of your body has been reversed. Don’t do anything stupid and only shoot him when you calm down.]

“Maybe if I lift this, I’ll be able to recognise you. You don’t mind, do you?”

As soon as the rough pad of a finger poked your cheek, you composed yourself. Blearily, you squinted and raised your uninjured arm to block the high sun from your eyes. 

“Are you the one who saved me?” 

He stared, rocking back onto his heels from his crouch by your side. Short bamboo rods were tied haphazardly around his face, and his green tunic looked like it had seen better days. With his half-open gape, you could see teeth littering his gums like abandoned gravestones – forever subject to the crooked prodding of his tongue. You couldn’t be sure of his age. With his thin build and nasally voice, he didn’t seem that old; the viciousness in his eyes made your hands clammy from the whiplash. How can you be so cruel so young?  

Against your back, the stone of the mountain was warm from the sun and would’ve been ideal in any other circumstance, had your arm not been heavily injured. You winced from the friction as you attempted to sit up, and took the opportunity to look around. “I think I might’ve stabbed myself earlier, though I’m not sure if I lost the knife in the sand somewhere. I assume you brought me here, kind mister?”

You sincerely hoped the flattery would conceal your shaky voice. 

It’s high up. The feathers in the air from earlier seemed to be mediums to conduct those wires, and could transport people to wherever their user was. You could feel a cooler breeze than on ground level; it soothed you and reminded you of exactly why you were here. 

“Of course, of course,” he nodded enthusiastically, grinning with a smile that leaned too much on the side of malicious. He leaned closer with his sweating face and those disconcerting eyes. “I’m your hero who brought you here after you got injured!”

[He’s technically telling the truth.]

Lie by omission. He’s no hero. 

“Really?” You grasped his hand and sat up, shifting your side to feel for the familiar dig of your gun. “I don’t suppose you have any water, if you could be so kind?”

“Hah! Since I’m so kind, I might as well offer some to the poor schmuck who got lost in this desert,” he puffed out his chest as he spoke, already turning away from you to rummage in his small brown knapsack a few paces away. You dropped his hand.  Fuck, that was almost too easy.  

With his gaze and body elsewhere, you were free to glance around – though, your eyes were still cloudy from your tears. A few feet away was a bowl of rippling water with nothing else beside it. The more you stared at it, the more you had an inkling of how he used his power to scout out potential targets. Squinting, you looked at the crag situated a few metres diagonally upwards, from which hung something strange–

Your breath caught in your throat. 

That body was familiar. 

As your eyesight came back into focus, you saw him , swinging from the rock like a broken puppet. His golden hair had been used in lieu of strings, and his arms hung limply by his sides. A tanned face, serene amidst the cascade of blood that dripped from him, completely unresponsive to the world. 

Gyro Zeppeli, why are you here?  

Horrified, you stared at him a little too long, a little too openly. 

“Whatcha staring at?” He leered at you, holding out an oiled waterskin that you absolutely did not want to take at any cost.

“Did you save him too?” you asked brightly, hand placed lightly on your cheek to highlight the crinkle of your eyes. You were angry. You were seething, and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it his audacity? Was it the injury you’d incurred just minutes prior? Was it Zeppeli, who looked lifeless but couldn’t be?

He can’t be. Depeche Mode, you begged your Stand, tell me.

Depeche Mode was quiet. 

“Mister, you’re a really good person,” you leaned forward on the sand, surreptitiously feeling around for the pouch of bullets in your cargo pocket at the knee. There. They’re here. “I hope you don’t mind me nodding off for a bit.”

“Ah, since I’m so kind, I might as well,” he beamed, facing his bowl once more. “Ahem– I will be busy saving more people, so don’t disturb me.”

“Right!” Your smile dropped. 

[He’s still alive. Wait until he’s completely distracted to shoot him.]

Right.

You knew how to do it: the methodical aim and fire, the squeeze of the trigger and the recoil of the arm. Quietly, you observed, thumbing the little pouch by your knee. He was engrossed in the bowl–

The wires were coming from his mouth and into the water.

He looked completely crazed now, eyes darting madly within the water to search for his target. 

“ The place where the horse stops – yes, that’s where you’re located, Jyoshter–”

Jyoshter? Was he talking about Joestar?  

Of course. You were an idiot – what was new? Of course it was Johnny that got dragged into this, just like last time. It wasn’t your fateful encounter with the Stand user, it was theirs. You were the singularity here.

“–I’ll tear you apart like I said I would!”

Should I shoot him now?

[Not now. This idiot will probably end up shooting his own foot and revealing his own motive.]

Silently, your thumb pressed the cylinder release, disguised by the fluttering scarlet of your jacket. 

“Ah! He moved, right there! I knew that schmuck was in the ground, crawling like a little bug through the sand! I’ll try to avoid a close, one-on-one battle – just jump out and show your face.”

He specialised in long-range fighting. That much you’d figured out, yet you still paused regardless – did you need to put the gun away and think of some other tactics? 

Nah, you reasoned. It’s not like a bullet would lose a race with such a non-aerodynamic hook. 

You loaded the chamber, one by one. Six bullets in total; they glinted gold for victory. 

It wasn’t like you doubted your marksmanship. 

And it wasn’t like this idiot was a particularly hard target either. Even now, he was on his knees with his hands in the sand, facing away from where you sat with a gun in your hand.

Wait a little longer, Zeppeli.

“I’ll wait until you’ve been burnt a bit before I tear you apart with my hooks, stupid Jyoshter. The ‘corpse’ is in your left hand, so there shouldn’t be a problem as long as the fire doesn’t burn you on the inside!”

What did he just say?

Your hand gripped a fistful of sand, feeling the grains even through your gloves. Partly from shock, your breathing had become shallow, while your eyes bore straight at the fool in front of you. 

What does he know?

Should you just shoot him and offer to heal him in exchange for information? Stricken, your fingers grasped the wooden grip of the revolver – it creaked with your intensity, but you really couldn’t help it. 

“ Ahaha! He came out! He stood up – I see his suffering body!”

Is Johnny in danger as well?

Placidly, you raised the revolver. You didn’t think as your finger slipped over the trigger in preparation – you were completely lucid and empty as you aimed. 

[Stood up?]

You paused briefly. As far as you knew, Johnny wasn’t an ambulatory wheelchair user; it was inconceivable that the death throes had repaired his spine suddenly. 

“ This is the end, Jyoshter!”

Could you risk it? Did Johnny have a plan that you’d ruin if you shot the man?

“Prepare for death,” he yelled maniacally.

Sending a quick prayer to whoever was up there that you wouldn’t ruin whatever plan Johnny had, you squeezed the trigger. 

Almost instantaneously, blue laser-like lights streaked through the water and pierced his face. He didn’t even have time to scream – the nails and lead bullet flung him to the rocks at the base of the ledge, and he slipped out of sight. 

That was Johnny, right?

The area was clear, and you stumbled to your feet. Stupidly, you dropped your gun. Depeche Mode. Your tattoo started its familiar clinking and whirring; after the roiling tension in your stomach, the sound was almost comforting. 

“Zeppeli, don’t die on me.” Purple cloth slipped beneath the rough grasp of your fingers; you could barely prop his weight against yours without seeing white spotting your vision. The corpse was pushed to some forgotten corner of your mind – what mattered now was keeping the unconscious man alive. 

Hurry up, hurry up.

His hair finally slipped from the lip of the rock and his full mass slumped onto you. You breathed heavily; there was no time to think about your next moves rationally. 

You knew you didn’t have long left. The bullet you shot was aimed at the juncture of his shoulder in order to buy space for interrogation, but that had all gone out of the window at Johnny’s actions. Now, all you could do was make sure Zeppeli wasn’t in critical condition and then threaten the hook maniac.

[First slot activated: Personal Jesus. Countdown has begun.]

You sighed in relief.

As soon as that spectral syringe brushed past his skin, his eyes snapped open.

“That’s the same feeling as last time,” he stared directly at you, unsmiling. Though his face was still pallored and clammy, he was regaining vitality little by little. With his body practically in your lap, you could watch exactly how Depeche Mode functioned in real time. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

Depeche Mode’s miniature was still in his blind spot. Keep going.

“Just explain after we’re through with this deficiente ,” he muttered, gripping your shoulder with one hand and his temples with the other. “At the very least, I don’t feel like absolute shit anymore.”

“I’ll tell you what I can.” It almost felt peaceful. Though his blood soaked your clothes, the warmth of another person grasping you was utterly surreal. Stay like this, just for a bit. But you couldn’t do that. You helped him into a sitting position; once more, you kept your distance. “I know you don’t trust me, but I swear I won’t harm you.”

You have nothing to do with my target.

“You’re right, I don’t trust you,” he heaved a sigh, staring at you. Absentmindedly, he tapped a golden finger against his knee. “But you don’t trust me either. I’ve seen the way you look at me – you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“The feeling’s mutual from you, so I think we’re even,” you stood, brushing the sand from your chaps and offering him a gloved hand. When he took it, you could feel the tension laced in his flesh and sinew. 

“Yeah, we are,” he commented, letting go. “Let’s team up and kill that bastardo. Then after you tell me what you did to me earlier, we’ll part and go on our merry ways.”

“We can’t kill him yet,” you interjected. ‘ You can’t kill him yet’, your tone suggested. “I– we can still get more information out of him.”

Zeppeli waved his hand dismissively. “Who do you think I am? I implied that.”

The carefree expression on his face turned grave. “We still need to make sure Johnny’s alright–”

A hook protruded grotesquely out of his chest. You whirled around, heart thumping madly in your ribcage as you felt around for your holster. 

Shit. It was still there, waiting in the sand for you.

[ Thirty-four seconds remain. ]

“It’s funny, isn’t it? I set the bait up to catch Jyoshter, but I seem to have caught a nobody as well! Two twerps with one worm!” He’d lost his bamboo hat, and his tongue lolled madly from his mouth as his jaw unhinged as far as it would go. In the back of his throat, you could see the winch and pulley system extending down into his gullet. No longer did he look childish; your eyesight really had been damaged when you failed to spot the aged skin and wrinkled cheeks. 

The hook pierced through your wrist, and it took everything within you to remain standing. 

“Were you working with this loser all along?” he caterwauled, pulling your hand into Zeppeli’s sternum. “Didn’t I save you?”

[Johnny’s still alive, but his breathing seems to indicate unconsciousness. I think he’s just a little banged up for now – this guy’s totally hellbent on getting revenge against you, I think.]

“Who said that?” you eyed Zeppeli shiftily, trying to indicate with your irises that Johnny was not yet at the pearly gates. You allowed your shoulder to collide with his chest to feign your arm being completely pressed against it – you still had a bit of slack rope to work with. 

[ Eight seconds remain. ]

“Johnny’s unconscious, but he’s not injured too badly,” you whispered. He exhaled sharply, yet indiscernibly to anyone but you. I’m relieved too.

“You did! Traitor!” the senile fart yowled, lashing the other hook wildly like a morningstar. You could hear it whip past the air with sickening speed; the breeze fanned towards you from the impact and only made your sweating face even colder. “You were trying to make a fool out of my kindness, you donkey!”

Depeche Mode. 

You didn’t have your gun. Johnny was incapacitated, and Zeppeli’s holsters had been stowed away by that madman. You hadn’t planned on using this card at all. 

Instinctively, you knew what result you’d get from the slot machine. 

[Second slot activated: Words Like Violence. Countdown has begun.]

A short-range ability, well matched to take on that guy – but he’s also well matched to take on my Stand, especially since I’ve never actually used this slot before.

“You– ” Zeppeli curled inwards as if in pain, yet his lips were right next to your ear as he breathed the words. “You’re the person whose ability I saw that night. That thing hanging around me was because of you.”

Depeche Mode’s smaller form had materialised in the space between your two bodies, concealed from the enemy by your torso. Its carefully blank clock eyes seemed to stare right at him, and he looked at you incredulously.

“I said I’ll explain later,” you hissed. Your mind was racing, watching the man with the hooks shake in rage at your proximity. What do I do? “I barely know how to use it – just let me focus on the fight and don’t get hurt any more–”

“You two really were scheming!” His agitation was clear – those hands were grasping at his thin hair and he looked as though he was unravelling at the very seams. 

“You worried about me? I’m not that fragile.”

“I’m not worried about you, I just won’t be able to heal you if I’m fighting,” you admitted, and immediately wondered if you’d said too much. Zeppeli glanced at you pensively.

“You don’t seem very experienced in these matters.”

“That’s it! ”

As the second hook careened towards you, Zeppeli pushed you down by the shoulder and it scraped past you by a hair’s breadth. 

It was strange. You’d almost forgotten the pain that echoed in your arm. 

You flinched.

“Didn’t I tell you we should team up – who are you to tell me to stay back?” His harsh words brought you back down to the ground. Pull yourself together. “I’m not going to rely on you.”

[I can’t stand this anymore.]

“You were friends all along– you two fuckers!”

“We’re not friends,” you and Zeppeli snapped simultaneously. His sharp eyes glanced off you, and you gazed stonily back. 

[Stop screwing around and put the gloves on.]

“Huh?” you mumbled, glancing down at your Stand. “What are you talking about?”

[I was hoping you’d figure it out by yourself, but I guess my hopes were too high.]

“All that talk, yet you can’t focus on the fight?” 

[Quid pro quo.]

This for that.

Depeche Mode heals, therefore I attack. You smiled ruefully. It had been years since you last wore boxing gloves. 

You didn’t need its input any more. You’d figured it out. 

I’d prefer some plain tape instead of those ugly gloves. They still had ‘words’ emblazoned proudly on the front. You winced. What was with this terrible sense of humour?

“Speak for yourself, Zeppeli.”

Depeche Mode had faded into the back of your sternum like it always had. 

When you pushed him from your side, your riding gloves had been replaced with black boxing tape – though not plain like you’d wished. Rather, the jet fabric was covered in embroidered patterns in shifting hues. I used to wear this style under my gloves when I was younger , you reminisced. Some things really never changed. 

Gloves were too unwieldy when outside the ring. 

You’re right, I’ve got little experience in actual fights. 

This tape was linked to the second slot ability. 

I can’t focus, and I’ve already screwed up twice. 

It was reasonable to assume that the tape would offer the same protection as boxing gloves. After all, it really was the same ability – just in a different form. 

If I do this, will I screw up again?

Your mind worked furiously to figure out what you could. 

[He really shouldn’t have aimed for your wrist when you’re like this.]

Your expression changed, and you held onto the steel rope with your uninjured arm while yanking the hook lodged in your wrist. Depeche Mode had been nice enough to give you hints; you just had to be foolhardy enough to interpret its words.

The blood slicking your hands slid off the tape – there was no pain nor nausea, even when you stared hard at the wounds and the metal sliding through the gap in your flesh. Rather, it appeared the skin was slowly warping itself back into space, much like when you used Personal Jesus.

Is it possible that the effects are the same?

[You’ll receive your explanation later. Focus. ]

“What the–” Zeppeli muttered, stilling once your eyes met once in warning. Your eyes flickered to where his chest was still strung through; did he really not feel it? Did this man have a will of steel? It’ll be over soon, and I can fix my errors.

The second hook swayed dangerously. Now that you and Zeppeli didn’t seem so easy to take down, he had to switch tactics and wait for an opening–

“When the cats are away the mice will play! You two better enjoy the rest of your pathetic lives whilst I have some fun,” he leered. Those eyes of his were filled with mania; was he toying with you two? 

It didn’t matter. You had to end it quickly.

[ Two minutes, thirty seconds remaining. ]

Though that time seemed like the shortest in the world, a melee like this wasn’t often dragged out. At most, the fight would only last a minute and a bit before either he or you exhausted yourself. You also had the additional time of around three minutes after the countdown ended. If it ended, you were screwed.

And it’s not like I quit recently. 

“I need to get close to him,” you muttered, slowly inching away from Zeppeli. He gave you a long, hard look. That look – that look that told you he was unimpressed yet still mildly curious as to what you’d do. 

“Alright.”

That’s it?  

“The sooner we finish him off, the better, right? Here, I’ll push you–” 

Just as quickly as he spoke it, he grabbed your arms and wheeled you around so you finally faced your esteemed hero. You could feel a boot press into your lower back – that fucker kicked you – and that was the moment where you could see those green lips drawn back in a smirk in your mind’s eye. You knew that expression was on his face; the delay with which he finally pushed you forward felt too much like a laugh.

“You just wanted to push me, bastard–”

You know you shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t resist looking back. His smile wasn’t as vindictive as you thought it would be. Those green eyes were closed, and his golden teeth flashed bright in a smile that seemed, well, innocent. What the hell? You didn’t know why, but you couldn’t look away from that expression of joy, even as you careened through space and into the waiting arms of your enemy. 

“Even now, you’re still looking at the bait?” His voice was incredulous and furious, yet he still leapt away to put distance in between the two of you. You swore under your breath. If this kept up, you wouldn’t be able to land a hit by the time the countdown ended. “I’m going to enjoy ripping the smile off his face when I finally kill you.”

He was more limber than you expected. At some point, his taunts had fizzled out, sliding over you like oil over water. You were tranquil – more tranquil than you had ever been – as you weaved and dodged the free hook that was just a fraction of a second too slow. Maybe he could’ve got you if he used both hooks, yet he clearly wanted to keep Zeppeli back and you found that you didn’t mind the underestimation at all. 

Honestly, you didn’t know how you were moving so fast. It was like you’d been hooked up to an IV drip of adrenaline; your body was hyper aware of its surroundings, stumbling not once as you jumped the tricky terrain. 

And it was silent. You could see his mouth moving as you came closer – you heard none of it as your punch finally connected with his jaw. He was backed into a corner, and you could almost see the right angle of the ropes forming behind his emaciated body. He was stumbling wildly, trying in vain to stabilise himself – you felt any sympathy had long dissipated. 

Your ears rang with a dull, monotonous clang; all you could hear was the swish of rope through the air, yet none of that mattered. Your feet had settled shoulder-width, and your fists had been brought high to guard your face. 

A target had appeared on his jaw again. Leisurely, your hips swung to follow through with the motion; somehow, that scrawny man managed to dodge. But it wasn’t enough. You’d anticipated it, much like an experienced fisherman would anticipate a particularly slippery fish attempting to escape. 

He dodged right into your other, waiting fist. It proved too much for him – he clutched at the rock behind him, scrabbling for purchase as you delivered another one-two in his solar plexus. 

You watched him hack and wheeze for air. You couldn’t hear his pleas nor the sound of his body fighting to stay conscious. Distractedly, you watched as blood emerged on his thin lips. It was the same shade as your jacket: a sort of fresh, arterial crimson that reminded you of a nosebleed. 

“You’re a boxer? You really aren’t the average jockey, are you?” Zeppeli’s words jarred through the ringing silence. 

You couldn’t hear the wind, only each syllable as it hit your eardrum – you swore you felt the hits on your malleus, incus and stapes, you swore you could sense the fluid in your cochlea ripple, you swore you were aware of the signal getting sent through the auditory nerve to your brain. His voice was clearer than your own pulse, as if the two of you stood mouth to ear in an empty, darkened room. 

Dizzily, you wiped the blood coagulating on the corner of his lips, before pulling back to strike the man again. The movement allowed you to narrowly miss the trajectory of the second hook; evidently, he decided that guarding from you took priority over restraining Zeppeli. Zeppeli was free, yet he still decided to be a bystander. 

You had to be more careful now. Yet, strangely, the second, snake-like hook racing through the air only made your head clearer. Your heart pounded madly, but your body felt lighter than air. 

As you thought, he struggled even more with controlling the momentum of his hooks at such a short range. You could easily predict the trajectory – even just using your peripheral vision. 

It was strange. 

Your legs shook with the strain, so it would stand to reason you were fearful, right? 

No, your muscles were burning and your hypothalamus had released a heady hit of dopamine that left you reeling from its effects. You knew you’d regret it later after it wore off, but you couldn’t help but indulge in getting a few extra hits in. He was surprisingly hardy – slipping out of your reach on multiple occasions as if he was an eel. 

And suddenly, you were in the zone; the canvas of the ring floor smelled like sweat and blood, while the artificial lights shone harshly onto you and your opponent. He was a particularly tricky outboxer: a light build but far reach, coming at you from all directions. But he was inexperienced, too focused on pushing you back to notice you feinting. 

His right side opened up as you purposefully dropped your guard on the left side of your body. As you pretended to draw back your right fist, he attempted to evade it by shifting right side forward – but that had been your goal all along. 

With your left knee pushed back in your stance, you had the momentum to deliver the blow like you’d planned. You kicked forward – boots heavy and imperfect but shooting forth like an arrow – and nailed him in the liver with your heel. 

He dropped like a stone, heaving, while you towered over his pitiful form. 

“You dickhead,” he gasped. His hands clutched at the front of his tunic, wildly directing his hooks towards you as you dodged them – you scanned the ground while you did so, searching. 

There was one key reason why you’d scoffed at the first appearance of Words Like Violence. Those feeble punches against you back then – flowery taps disguised by garish red gloves – were terribly ironic. 

There was one key reason why you’d asked for tape instead of gloves. 

What was your nickname from back then?

None-hit wonder? Sandbag? Loser?

[I can see that.]

It was none of those, actually. It was ‘rulebreaker.’

You weren’t a fucking boxer in the first place. You just liked the tapes.

If a fortnight was enough to make you a boxer, you would’ve been many things. A musician, a writer, a photographer. As it stood, you never had a knack for learning the rules, especially in a sport like this one. 

Pushing him to the ground, you grabbed the object that lay next to his head. 

Five bullets. 

You straddled him sideways, one calf pressing his legs down and the other against his torso. 

The cold muzzle of your gun pinioned his forehead. 

He was riddled with injuries: holes in his face from Johnny, blood dripping from his mouth from the internal damage of your blows, and the bullet still lodged in the juncture of his shoulder. 

“If I could aim for your shoulder and hit it from several metres away while you moved, imagine how accurately I can shoot you in the head at point-blank range,” you breathed, still high from the fight and adrenaline. 

It was a bluff. You’d never shot a living, breathing human before today. How could you possibly pull the trigger, when the sight of greyish brain matter still haunted you?

Could he hear it in your voice? Could Zeppeli see it in the minute tremor of your shoulders?

“I’ll talk, I’ll talk if that’s what you want! Don’t shoot me!” he yelped, the tension of his hooks fading as he let them drop into the sand. 

I won’t be the one killing you today. 

“I’ll get to the point, then,” you replied, shifting your weight to press more into his ribs. He wheezed out – his eyes had filled up with hatred from the very beginning, and you honestly doubted you’d get any worthwhile information out of him. “What do you know about the ‘corpse’ you mentioned earlier?”

The hatred shifted to mania, and you could feel laughter building up in the shake of his chest. 

“If you’re asking about that, you’re playing with things way past your league–” he coughed, blood splattering on your trousers. “–and you’re begging to get killed. You’ll die a slow, painful death if you interfere.”

“I can’t tell you anything,” he finished, grinning up at you. His eyes – they’d already resigned to his fate. Despite his immaturity, the corpse had struck something within him – he was prepared to die for it. 

No matter. You’d learnt two key pieces of information. Valentine had a skilled, sizable force working for him; this guy was likely on the lower rungs of the hierarchy. Other than that, there had been others coveting the corpse as well: prospective allies. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. 

“Thank you,” your eyes crinkled as you smiled, and you could hear his breath hitch. “Zeppeli, do you have any questions?”

“I’ve come to my own deductions.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a green sphere collided with the man's shoulder; you watched in horror as the deltoideus muscle spiralled around it. His hand jerked up, and wrapped around his own throat; you could hear him gurgle, asphyxiating and slowly turning a shade of purple that nauseated you. 

“No– don’t–”

“Step back,” Zeppeli instructed. His voice was oddly detached as he clasped your arms to help you off the enemy. Once you were further away, he turned your head to the side – his calloused fingers were placed neatly, dispassionately under your chin just where the bandanna covered it – while he slipped the gun out of your hand with the other. 

You heard the bang. 

You felt the recoil through his body. 

“You didn’t look like you were going to actually kill him,” he explained offhandedly, still clasping your chin. Then, as soon as you registered it, he let go and stepped back, dusting his cloak off. Before he fully disappeared from your side, he easily pressed the chamber out and let the unused bullets fall back into the sand, then tucked the gun into your holster. 

Those events had taken just around a minute.  

You could feel the effects of Words Like Violence wear off. All that remained was shock and exhaustion. 

The smell of iron was thick in the air. Sweat dripped down your face and added to the cacophony of odours in the air. 

And you still couldn’t look at the dead man lying to the side. 

“Let’s find Johnny,” he continued, pushing you by the shoulders after you continued being rooted in place. You couldn’t even respond – your tongue felt hot and leaden in your mouth, unsuitable for any verbosity. “Then you can explain to me what the hell that all was. You clearly knew more than you were letting on from the question you asked him.”

[He’s just around thirty metres south-east, if I hear that breathing correctly.] 

Wordlessly, you pointed in what you hoped was the south-east. Zeppeli glanced down at your hand, then steered you further left, just as wordlessly as you. 

“The body’s obscured by that rock now,” he informed you. 

“Cool,” you finally responded. “I’m good now.” 

He gave you a deadpan look, but ultimately bit his tongue at the expression you wore above the cloth. You’d seen dead bodies before – your squeamishness of blood had long been forced down – yet the quick death of the man, coupled with your immediate withdrawal of the ‘zone’, left you unable to cope. 

“So you’re good enough to explain to me what you were questioning him about, and about your Stand?” he clarified. “Man, you have no idea how surprised I was when I first saw that with the Boom Booms. I thought that was one of theirs!”

“Sorry,” you looked away sheepishly, remembering how you’d pretended not to see Depeche Mode when he’d questioned the two of you about it. It seemed he remembered suddenly too – his expression turned to one of irritation. 

“You let me think I was seeing things,” he seethed, jabbing your shoulder with his index finger. “And for what?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you repeated, scratching beneath your ear. I didn’t want you to think I was part of the attack. I wanted to heal you but I knew you’d be suspicious. What could you even say?

“My gut was right about you being a suspicious person,” he looked at you distrustfully, now that you’d roused his anger once more. It stung, more than you’d like to admit. It was a harsh reality check – being actual allies with this man was impossible.

In his eyes, you’d been dishonest from the get-go. 

Still, it’s not like he was particularly forthcoming about his identity either. That was what irritated you. 

“So are you though?” you questioned incredulously as you came to that realisation. “We’re not exactly buddy-buddy enough to trust each other like that – and on top of that, I’m divulging more information about myself and getting none in return from you two!”

“You–” he breathed, looking more and more incensed. The two of you had reached the crag, and you could see Johnny propped up against a rock on a lower platform.

“Forget it,” you snapped, jumping down the metre or so. “I’ve already agreed to give you the information, and I intend to keep my word. I should’ve been more smart about it in the first place, though, and asked for information as well. Quid pro quo.”

[If I heal him, he’ll still need about half an hour of sleep for his body’s exhaustion.]

Zeppeli crouched over Johnny, feeling his pulse and breath. “He’ll need stitches. I’ve got Zombie Horse, but he’s also internally–”

“I can do it,” you leaned over Johnny’s other side, already prepared to hit the slot machine. 

He stared at you, anger replaced by apprehension. “You’ve got a background in medicine too?”

“If science counts,” you studied his face back nonchalantly. The whirring began. 

“Science?” he echoed. You could see the gears turning in his head. As a surgeon, he would no doubt be under its influence – advancements like aspirin and penicillin soon snowballed into miraculous, life-saving treatments he’d be able to witness had he lived past the race. Your heart almost broke a little. 

“I studied chemistry at university,” you admitted. You didn’t know why. It was a pretty trivial piece of information when you mentioned it to people in the modern world, but here it could twist your words anachronistically if you weren’t careful. God forbid you mentioned something from the future that had you heralded as a witch here. 

“Huh,” he openly stared now. You could tell he was itching to ask the burning question: why the hell did you leave a promising career behind to risk your life in this stupid race?

“But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then–” Something in his expression clicked in realisation. “So, the one that was healing my leg then – that was you?”

“Yeah. How would you have reacted if my Stand suddenly popped up while we were being ambushed and I asked you to trust me so I could heal you?” you sighed, resting your hand on top of your head. “You were already suspicious of me, so the best I could do was be oblivious while not letting you fall off your horse due to your leg.”

“You’re actually more smart than I thought you were,” he remarked appraisingly. You gave him a withering glare. 

[First slot activated: Personal Jesus. Countdown has begun.]

“I’d appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut about this particular ability.” You kept your eyes level with his as Depeche Mode hummed into existence. “I mean if Johnny asks about who healed him, you can tell him, but zip your lips with everyone else.”

“May I ask why?” He didn’t flinch nor look away. 

“I’m keeping my cards close.”

“An astute answer,” he grinned without any warmth. His gaze shifted from you to Depeche Mode, watching as it floated soundlessly through the air. “You get more mysterious by the day.”

“Likewise.”

“So, this thing’s the one with the background in medicine?” he commented dryly, staring at its weird getup unabashedly. 

“I’m truly thankful you’ve got eyes,” Depeche Mode intoned flatly. “It really makes things easier for me.”

“Talks too?” His golden brows painted two peaks as he raised them in surprise. “How creepy.”

Every time you thought you had an inkling of ‘like’ for the man, he proved you wrong each time. 

Don’t waste your time on him.  

[Wasn’t planning on it.] 

You quietly propped yourself on your forearms and leaned back, feeling the sun wash over you and the sand shifting beneath your weight. Just a foot away, the methodical motions of Depeche Mode rang true against your soul; your worries dissipated as you made out the impression of healed injuries within your closed eyes. 

“Before I forget, about the thing he mentioned earlier–”

“The corpse?”

“Yeah. Obviously you don’t know, but do you think Johnny might’ve come across it?”

“I figured as much after you began asking your questions,” Zeppeli leaned forward. His elbows pressed against his knees – legs crossed and moving side to side in idleness. He didn’t meet your eyes this time; you could tell the clotting of platelets and knitting of skin was much more interesting to witness. “We were attacked yesterday. German chap, only a few centimetres off my height – I don’t know if you recall the name Stroheim, but it’s not like he left a particularly lasting impression.”

He’s dead, being picked apart by vultures in the desert as we speak. 

That went unspoken. 

“He seemed particularly shaken – only a few minutes after the attack, he said something about an arm falling out of his arm,” he continued, regarding Johnny carefully as though he was questioning whether to tell you this or not. 

You reached out to the sleeping man, ignoring the sharp exhale from before you. Two fingers and a thumb pincered Johnny’s wrist – suddenly, the skin began peeling and shrivelling back to reveal exactly what you were looking for. 

. 　⁺ ✦

(“Forgive me for being so blasé,” Dr Ferdinand says indifferently, gently turning the mummified fingers with her, gloved, own. Despite her words, her expression is one of mild awe, and you can still hear her murmurs in the quiet lab. “Over two thousand years old and still in pristine condition…”)

(Archaeology reminds you too much of her, so you keep silent as you jot down her thoughts from earlier and litter in some of your own. You don’t know much about archaeology. The finger looks purple in the fluorescent lights. You briefly wonder how it smells.)

(“Your time with the remains is almost up, Doctor,” Valentine’s aide stands upright like an Anubis statue guarding a tomb. You suppose, in this room filled with bones from where Ferdinand’s fancy takes her, it’s as sepulchral as they come. You don’t know why you’re here. You wrapped up tests early today, but that doesn’t explain why she needed an intern to come watch over this experience with her.)

(“I’m nearly done,” she carefully drops some of the skin flakes into a vial and stores it in the rack beside her. She’s completely engrossed; you wonder what it’s like to feel the same passion.)

(“Sorry I couldn’t give you a more hands on role for this analysis,” she suddenly looks at you, wearing a rather troubled expression on her face. “Even though you signed off the non-disclosure agreement, you still couldn’t experience how miraculous a corpse like this is fully.”)

(“I’m fine,” you comment blandly. Neatly, you underline the title in your notebook: ‘Sacrum Corpus’. You doubt you’ll care enough to look back on this in the future, but you mark the date anyway.)

(In a few weeks, more of Valentine’s aides will come to the Institute to negotiate a further partnership.)

(You are indifferent.)

. 　⁺ ✦

It was softer than you thought. Your inquisitive fingers poked at the flesh that had eluded your grasp all those months ago; you’d expected it to be crackly like baking paper, but it wasn’t. It had the same softness of the wrinkled skin of old people: fragile and thin and delicate.

You knew it; this was the same corpse Dr Ferdinand had examined in your future. The purple colour, the finger shape – it all matched up, and you paused in your whirling thoughts. 

“Movere crus,” you read. The Latin felt foggy on your tongue: too used to hearing Dr Amsa explain nomenclature and etymology, yet too far removed from that time aeons ago. 

“Move the leg,” he translated. “Fuck, he really wasn’t trying to screw me over when he came to me scared shitless."

“What a weird thing to make a joke of,” you deadpanned. “You think it’s a metaphor for something?”

“Could be,” he shrugged, watching you slip the mummified arm back into Johnny’s. “What, you don’t need to examine it any more? Here I thought you’d grab it and run off with how curious you were about it earlier.”

“I did forensic studies on a similar case with my superior a few months ago,” you dismissed his words with a shake of your head. “I already know what I need to know about this corpse.”

From the outside, it’s an incredibly well preserved corpse that still retains traces of vitality even two thousand years later. However, it is a strange artefact that grants mysterious powers. Under no circumstances should it fall into the hands of the President. 

“Forensic– what the hell were you?” He mouthed, openly staring at you. Of course you were strange. You were an anomaly both back here and then, your present and your future. 

You didn’t deign to respond. 

“Fine, be like that. What are you going to do now?”

“Continue the race,” you replied shortly. Johnny’s breathing had evened out, and you watched as his lashes fluttered unconsciously. 

“Very funny. You aren’t a very good conversation partner.”

Neither are you, prick.

“When Johnny wakes up, tell him to keep the arm safe and to not give it up to anyone.”

“When he wakes up? And where will you be?”

“Continuing the race?” you questioned, genuinely puzzled at his probing. 

“Ah-ah,” he tutted, wagging his finger in disapproval. Your mouth may have dropped slightly open beneath the cloth in incredulity. “You’re staying until he wakes up. I still don’t trust you.”

Asshole.  

[You can’t deny he’s thorough.]

You were too tired to argue. You knew usage of your Stand would eventually tire you out, but the fight had just exacerbated the energy drain. Instead of opening your mouth with whatever retort that might’ve entered your mind, you let your head rock back against the rough stone pillar, near where Johnny still slumbered. 

You couldn’t deal with Zeppeli on top of that. From what you had heard of him, to what you saw before you – the two personalities were completely different. You had expected him to be grim. You’d expected him to be cold and angry and heartless. Sure, he was a prick, but you saw him bleed the same red as you. 

“Y’know, I’ve thought of a different name for you,” he began. You could hear his idle taps on the rocks, then the clatter of pebbles as he tossed them across the flat peak. “Brisk-and-Irate is a bit of a mouthful, is it not?”

“I guess,” you scratched your ear noncommittally. Was he always this talkative?

“Why’d you pick that alias, anyway?”

Fast and Furious was too anachronistic but I still wanted to be funny so I picked a period-appropriate version. 

“It’s an inside joke.”

“You’ll have to explain it to me sometime.” You knew you’d dug your own grave when you nodded briefly. Fuck.  

“Anyways,” he continued, pressing a knee against his chest and looking directly at you once more. “I was thinking Mercury.”

You raised a brow. 

“You’re very quick, though I can’t see any wings on your boots,” he laughed dryly. “It’s an element on the Periodic Table, and it’s toxic. Also, your current alias sounds stupid.”

[He’s not wrong.]

Which one is he not wrong about?

“Do whatever you want,” you exhaled, tilting your head back and closing your eyes.

[Fight back, fight back!] 

Mercury.  

The sunlight shone through the capillaries in your eyelids and made your vision go crimson. 

It sounded nice – there was always a risk that came with revealing your actual name. Mercury could be the mask you slipped over it: a cover should you make any mistakes. You didn’t intend to be taken as a joke later on. 

“A pity you can’t change it now.”

“Whatever you want to think.”

[Johnny’s done – your turn.]

You let your clothes return to normalcy – the coagulated blood coating your arms to the elbows vanished, and you felt lighter, insubstantial. 

“Depeche Mode’s gonna treat you now,” you exhaled. Your eyes were still shut. This was peaceful , sitting almost shoulder to shoulder with Johnny with Zeppeli on the other side of the sandwich. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d spent time sitting with anyone like this. Not even Diya – even though the two of you were friends, there was still that work-professionalism distance neither of you cared enough to cross. And that was fine. 

You really wanted a drink. 

Maybe Vincent smuggled one into your pack somewhere, but you couldn’t get it even if you tried. Your body felt heavy – too heavy. Anything would be fine. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. Roughly, you dragged a hand across your stiff shoulders and let it drop hard onto your legs. 

On the rocks, you thought deliriously. Whiskey. 

Your fingers shook. Even after all that time, you could still feel vomit in your throat at the sight of a dead body. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” 

His voice broke through the dark; it chipped away at the obsidian container, and you regained your vision, even if it was only a little. 

“What– what the hell are you talking about?” you croaked. Your voice box was sore, as though you were crying. You hadn’t been, and you sure as hell wouldn’t in his proximity. You glanced at him, and you saw his hat was in his hands: casually flat against his calf as his wrist bent over his knee. He looked strange, without the shadows darkening his expression; he looked younger than his years when he stared at you unabashedly. 

“I’m so happy you saved me, my hero,” he warped his pitch into a horrid approximation of yours, dropping his hat in his lap to clasp his hands together. “Am I doing it right? My sweet prince, my darling, my moon – take me right here.”

“Gross,” you scowled. “I never said all that.”

“Oh? Sounded like you meant it, though. You’re so kind, saving others as well,” he mimicked. “Who knew you were a thespian as well?”

“Eat shit.” 

“Seriously,” he continued, ignoring you. “If I wasn’t so banged up, I would’ve knocked myself unconscious to avoid third wheeling.”

“So you were awake but didn’t help me out with getting you down from that rock?” you irritably overlooked the last part of his sentence. “Just dead weight while you weigh about as much as your horse.”

“Hey, hey! You were managing just fine, while I was still immobile from getting captured,” he insisted. “Besides, you’re not all that weak – you’ve got some strange skills, you know.”

“Stop changing the subject.”

“I’m serious – I don’t think I’ve seen fighting like that before,” he probed. Zeppeli’s eyes bore through you; you didn’t think those sharpened edges would ever soften. Even now, every conversation felt like an interrogation.

What was that ability?

[Another form of rejection.]

Depeche Mode paused. 

[You need to fight, right? At that moment, your purpose is to be a fighter – your muscle memory and thinking capacity revert to a prime state, while the key points in your body are defended more vigorously. Just like a pendulum, you’re constantly reverting back to equilibrium. You’re changing but you’re still remaining in that stasis.]

Like when my wrist was stabbed?

[Exactly. Any moves you picked up from back then will come easier as it’ll feel like you’re in the ‘zone’. Your base state, your function is simply to fight, but it won’t make up for poor stamina or exhaustion. You’ve done some endurance over these past few months due to your jockey training, so good on you for not collapsing.]

You’re… actually useful for once. 

[Obviously. I’d urge you to start routinely stretching and building up a bit more muscle if you want it to be more reliable. It puts you at a significant disadvantage of being too close to your enemy, while you still only have human speed and capabilities.]

[Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a power-up. With your experience and this ability, you could go toe-to-toe with a pro from the modern era.]

It paused, and you could feel it gathering more words. 

[In your dreams, I should be able to make a decent test dummy.]

Then, it retreated back into your sternum. Its tone seemed… almost bashful.

Thank you. 

Your chest tickled, and you didn’t quite know why. 

“That ability I used earlier makes my body experience the prime fighting conditions,” you summarised. Laconic. He could make his own assumptions – it wasn’t like the two of you were a team. 

You wouldn’t pretend to understand how his shitty childhood shaped him into the person he was today; yet, you couldn’t help but think of yourself when you looked at him. Maybe you could bond over a drink. Maybe the two of you were more similar than you’d originally thought.

“Still, that doesn’t explain that kick,” he mused. “From the few matches I’ve watched, boxing doesn’t include kicks, does it?”

Where’d I learn it? It was a front kick, designed to be the knife in your sleeve after you feinted the enemy out. Kickboxing? Taekwondo? It wasn’t like you’d won matches with it. 

If you knew you’d be stuck here, you would’ve taken all the opportunities you could. You would’ve learnt another martial art instead of testing others out: never one to commit. You would’ve pushed your time to win, rather than being a sore loser who was too full of pride to improve. 

“It’s not the ring.” 

And it wasn’t. 

“And I’m not a boxer.”

It was as simple as that.  

. 　⁺ ✦