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@starsorted / jonathan & joseph
❛ really, what is the deal with speedwagon ？ he’s your oldest friend, right ？ and he’s not married or anything. c’mon, between us, is there a reason for that ？ i mean, he seems very adamant about our family---------- ❜
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｡ﾟﾟ 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘 - 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 , 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐊𝐀 / a m̵a̶r̷c̶i̵d̴ melantha , mayhaps , languished by the cyclone of 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚 , throttled by the salsilla of 𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙴 . behind aurum lookinglass & their bathic irises ; a speck of 𝑒𝑝𝘩𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 sorrow , whelved 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄 - 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽 . hark no myna’s 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 , no zephyr’s elegy , but the dripping of mellisonant sonnata twixt vermillion strokes * 𝐴𝑆 𝑇𝐸𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑅 𝐴𝑆 𝑃𝐸𝐴𝑅𝐿𝐸𝐷 𝑆𝐻𝑂𝑊𝐸𝑅𝑆 : ❝ ----- ---- -- no rain , 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 . ❞
@starsorted 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡ . . . !
@starsorted Bruce woke up to the sight of an alien sky above him, a mosaic nebula of blues and purples and yellows and pinprick stars peeking through the clouds. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before, and in his drugged out state it was the most beautiful, ethereal sky he’d ever laid eyes on. The first coherent thought he managed to form then was a feeling of serenity. He felt as if he could lay there staring up at the sky forever, and time would cease to be. The serenity didn’t last long before an unpleasantly familiar face leaned over him, sneering down at him, and his first coherent thought was, ‘Oh, shit.’
Memory started to return to him after that. Ross had cornered him at long last, had managed to snipe him with a sedative before the Other Guy had a chance to come to the party, and- everything had turned hazy. His limbs were heavy and unresponsive, and most certainly restrained. Whatever it was they had drugged him with was clearly enough to keep the Hulk down, because even as he bleary tried to pull him to the forefront he was met with an equal amount of bleary confusion and disorientation. Time passed, though in this state he wasn’t sure how much. There were faces and voices, blurred surroundings with fantastic colors that he couldn’t focus on no matter how hard he tried. Vague lucidity returned to him in what appeared to be some sort of antechamber. He was surrounded by soldiers with guns, with Ross standing over him. Bruce blinked up at him once, twice, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “-married off to some alien prince in the name of peace,” Ross hissed at him, “Don’t screw this up, Banner. Or- do screw it up. They’ll put you down like the mindless beast you are, and then you won’t be anyone’s problem.” And then he was being shoved through a door with an armed guard masquerading as an honor guard, mind still trying to process what was even happening. A marriage- his marriage, to an alien, apparently, and he had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten here apart from knowing Ross had something to do with it. The door lead out to a hallway, and the hallway opened up into a grand opulent chamber of gold and marble, full of people who all turned to look at him as he entered. At some point, he’d even been dressed in rich purple robes, apparently the standard wedding garb for gamma monsters who’d been drugged and kidnapped to be married off. ‘Shotgun marriage on an alien planet,’ Bruce thought to himself hysterically as they marched him down what was most definitely an aisle to a dais with a golden throne, where his apparent fiance awaited. ‘Did not see this one coming.’ There was no mistaking the panic and confusion in his eyes.
❝ I don't have the time to tell you why I do the things that I do -- just please hold on and soon you'll see. ❞ / @starsorted
JOSEPH JOESTAR ⠀ ⠀ / ⠀ ⠀MEME STILL ACCEPTING ！！ @starsorted ⋮⋮ embrace 4 joseph !
that crazy old man. joseph’s hold on his grandfather was firm, such passionate actions going against words spoken out of place during his distressed and seemingly blinded fit of displeasure. he meant well. he always meant well. embarrassing as it was at times, the boy was not a hardened soul. he wasn’t afraid to show devoted love for his family ; especially after that scene of courageous justice that could have gotten the older gentleman hurt.
❛ please, don’t get meddled in my affairs, grandfather. ❜ shyness only befalls him in times of worry, shame and concern confusing him into a state of melancholy. ❛ i know you mean well. but i do think these things through ; your safety is all that matters to me. granny erina, speedwagon ... you’re the only family i have left. so don’t get yourself hurt for my sake. i wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happened to you because of me .... ❜
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“ you don’t have to hide your tears from me . ”
𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 / 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 ♡ 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. / @starsorted / still accepting.
ㅤ ㅤ Reimi was what people call a crybaby. Tears were the solution to different situations, from a happy moment to a sad thought, the standards were not really demanding. An attitude so natural that it matched her personality, determined enough but also of a fragile constitution, too innocent for this world… Her cry was always honest, like every particle of her, a human being who was not programmed to lie or deceive. “If I can just bury my feelings then all will be well”? Just an illusion. Allowing others to see her crying was another story, however. This was a side of her that should always be hidden, secret — reserved for lonely places or when night fell and everyone went to sleep.
ㅤ ㅤ The girl couldn’t explain why she was crying now, not precisely. Sometimes it just happened, as if the confusion inside her needed an outlet, or if the bad vibrations absorbed by others were too heavy to bear. Yes, she made this exchange whenever possible, removing the negative thoughts from others’ minds to let her light in, like the angel that some said she was. Her crying was always silent, but maybe not this time, as Jonathan managed to catch her in the act. Reimi quickly got to her feet, hands wiping tears off her cheeks, a thousand rehearsed apologies escaping her lips. His words, however, made her give up. There was no need to hide, he said. It was okay to cry in front of him. He understood.
ㅤ ㅤ Shrugging her shoulders like someone who has nothing to say, staring at her feet for a moment, she tried to offer an answer. So obvious, but her mind was still clouded. ❝ Thank you, Mr. Joestar. ❞ It wasn’t the first time someone had caught her crying, but his reaction was different. No desperate attempts to get her to say her reasons, or an order to stop. Just… Acceptance, a refuge, a safe place. ❝ This way I will have no more reason to cry. ❞ She said in a light, playful tone, a sweet smile matching her eyes bright with tears. Urge to apologize was eclipsed by his kindness, thanking him with every fibre of her being, wondering if he had any idea how much that little gesture meant.
♟: Patching up a wound @ giorno
“I’m fine.”
And then, just a few seconds later.
“I can do it myself.”
He means it. The cut in his arm looks deep, and was bleeding until just a moment ago, and it stings— but Giorno’s had it worse. At this point, he wouldn’t consider it a serious injury unless there’s at least one severed limb involved. This is nothing.
But the man keeps working with steady and loving hands regardless of his objections, and Giorno is conflicted between two choices: stop complaining, or repeat himself a third time. Three’s too high of a number, especially knowing that either way it wouldn’t make a difference.
Actually, he knew that even before he asked for the first time, so he’s been wasting his breath uselessly, but the need to make him stop feels more like an instinct.
The moment he finally gives up is marked with a quiet sigh, and he takes his eyes away from the man’s hands, trying to focus his attention on something else instead, but nothing around him catches his eye… other than the partially obscured birthmark peeking out of his collar.
✣ ——— “Why are people cursing and fighting?” He didn’t understand why this as happening. A simple question wouldn’t hurt, right? ( @starsorted )
