"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@doomedsouls
INDEPENDENT, PRIVATE, SELECTIVE, AND EXTREMELY CANON DIVERGENT JJBA MULTI - MUSE. takes influences from the anime, manga, and the ova. documents forthcoming, for now this is a temporary pinned post. see info from my other blog. written by bella (she/her & 21+).
*PERSONALS/NON RP BLOGS DO NOT FOLLOW. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.
I’m so happy I have your @ now so I can just do this @doomedsouls
ANOTHER ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE PIECE OH MY GOD ;A; EVERYONE PLEASE GO LOOK
what if we were parallels and foils yet canonically never interacted for some reason would that be fucked up or what
what if you were kind and i was cruel and what if another life maybe i was you and i grew up into something good, somebody who could swallow love. and what if i had done what was expected of me, forever upholding the family and the kingdom and the law, while you flout all to do as you please. and what if i don’t want what you have, i want to be you.
the sweet taste of victory turns bitter within seconds after finishing her last sentence. there is a foreboding heaviness in the air, something shifts, she already knows that she has made a terrible mistake before his reaction even starts. her defiance is akin to a child's tantrum, smacking away the one offer of solution and inadvertently damning herself further. does she regret it? no, not at first. ( not at all, actually. ) it felt good to deny him, to know that for all which he twists the universe to get whether deserved or not, he cannot have her.
but she forgets how simple and cruel his impulsive conclusions can be. if he cannot have her, then why bother dealing with her ever again?
the sensation of skin splitting open on her cheek is felt before anything else, even before her mind registers the impact of actually being struck. she is instantly knocked to the floor before there is even a feeble hope to stand her ground. the flow of tears which follows is instantaneous, the salty sting of tears flow into the open wound, creating a watery crimson trail. her only consolation to salvage her pride is that aside from a gasp, she lets out no cry. the pain is horrid, but she intends to endure, like always.
except that he isn't quite satisfied with only this. no, now there are claws raking into a fistful of her hair, pulling her so harshly that she has sincere fears that she'll be scalped. that, unfortunately, prompts a pained cry from her that she cannot fight to contain.
「 SILVER CHARIOT 」 manifests beside her, acting on instinct despite her conscious decision to withhold him. the knight begrudgingly heeds her but to a limited degree. yellow eyes beneath the helm direct a furious glare to the other menacing stand, the grip on the rapier is tight, but remains unpointed for now. only because she begs him to withhold.
❝ . . . i'm sorry. ❞ she forces out, and perhaps those words are more painful than all the violence she has just endured. her voice is small and hoarse, pathetic sounding. she despises being reduced to this. but her fear is sincere and so therefore the remorse must seem so as well. she would love nothing more than to continue to scream and curse, to laugh haughtily and choose death. but her son, her poor son, he would be alone and at the mercy of his father. the truth is, her apology is directed to rikiel is nothing else, because either she will die right now or she will be haunted by this risk. ❝ i'm sorry. you are right. i was arrogant and unchecked. ❞
her eyes squeeze shut in feeble effort to stop the flow of tears, to the stop the torturous sting of them on her wounded cheek. ❝ chariot won't attack, i promise. he is only here because he perceives the attack. i won't let him do anything. ❞ a shudder, a frightful pause, forcing her eyes to open. ❝ i won't act out again, i promise. ❞
for all that her impudence has infuriated him tonight, sherry’s suffering does not satisfy DIO so much as it arouses terrible pleasure. despite his long-festering irritation over her worsening attitude, her arrogance, the audacity with which she dares to conduct herself in his presence, there remains a perverse enjoyment he takes in reminding her of her place, of evoking the kind of fear that would crush her misbegotten spirit ( to think she once impressed him with this foolishness! she is fortunate that in his better moods, she amuses him still ). it is reflected upon the face of 「 THE WORLD 」 , who meets the impotent fury of 「 SILVER CHARIOT 」 with a wry, menacing smirk so much like that of its wielder.
❝ you’re sorry, ❞ he sneers, cold and contemptuous and mocking. ❝ useless words. of course, under threats of death, you’re sorry. ❞
but, be they tears of genuine remorse or merely a gambit to save her life, her begging works insofar as it assuages his wounded ego. sherry lives, for now, despite her best efforts to ensure otherwise. his iron grip relaxes enough to release her from his grasp, and he watches with disdain as his little knight, so proud even in her imprisonment, collapses into a pathetic heap at his feet.
there is something about seeing her entirely bereft of dignity, so completely and utterly humiliated by his hand, that makes his stomach churn with equal parts repulsion and excitement. he realizes now that he was naive to assume he could toy with her indefinitely. perhaps it was inevitable that her endless well of surprises would run dry, and that her plucky bravery, once so endearing, would become a persistent thorn in his side. that his favorite rose, so beautiful and robust in her prime, would wither and die once picked.
and yet, a withering rose is beautiful in itself, is it not?
cruelty for cruelty’s sake compels DIO to grab sherry once more, this time by her throat. he sinks his claws into her skin and lifts her up, using just enough strength to silence those strangled cries. the temptation to drain her dry and silence her permanently remains ever-present. briefly, he considers the merits of crushing her windpipe, or biting off that bitching tongue. the irony would amuse him temporarily, but alas, he knows better now than to give in to his short-sighted impulses.
instead, he kisses her. there is no illusion of tenderness like was feigned last night. no pretense of consideration for their deal, let alone her pleasure. his kiss is cruel, it is hungry, it is razor sharp and painful. you are mine, he growls into the fresh bruises blooming around her mouth; mine, sucking the blood from her brutalized lips. mine to possess, mine to control, mine to devour to my heart's content. he holds her hostage in this torment until he is satisfied, tossing her aside like one of his dead whores.
❝ you wanted this. remember that, sherry, lest i forget my promise. ❞
under threats of death, he says. for a dreadful moment, she closes her eyes once more, bracing herself for a horrid end. no chance to at least attempt to fight once more, as she did years ago, no chance to say any sort of goodbye or warning to her beloved son. instead, she will be killed here and now, her body tossed to the depths beneath the floorboards, left to rot and be forgotten.
all the while, 「 SILVER CHARIOT 」 begs to be allowed to fight. to defend her whilst she still draws breath. to even the odds, to obtain long overdue vengeance. he has lingered with the torture of failure for her fallen brother for years now. now he begs her to not make him endure this twice, to be unable to protect her too. but she refuses him. fighting will only make it worse. it will only come back to haunt rikiel instead.
she is dropped to the floor, she crumbles. a hand is over her chest to still her rapidly beating heart, as if to confirm she still draws breath. and then, in another instant, like whiplash, she is yanked back once more. it's even worse. a clawed hand is at her throat, piercing the pale skin with ease, like tearing through paper. she writhes and gasps, desperate for breath, all the while mentally begging her stand to keep back. little knight, little fool. that is all she is composed of these days. dead dreams of noble heroics and wasted bravery on petty matters.
he kisses her, and she endures, all the while wishing he would have just snapped her neck instead. it is a kiss of barbed wires and poison and seething hatred. there is no charm, no fog of intrigue and pleasure like before. it is vile and suffocating. her limbs are paralyzed, her stomach churning with repulsion, but she does not push him away. she clings to a faded memory where this was once enjoyable to her, in order to stave off the violent desire to shove him off.
and then, it is over. she is tossed aside and she can barely catch herself in the fall. she gasps for air, a hand at her throat where the surface wounds bleed freely. her lips, bruised and swollen, are numb. blood trickles down her chin from where they were split open, the nauseating taste of copper floods her mouth. all she can do is force herself to keep breathing, to be grateful to still draw breath.
「 SILVER CHARIOT 」 continues to silently glare with burning hatred, reluctantly retracting from its fighting stance, choosing to hover delicately over her. it is her protection which matters above all else. even if, had it been his choice, he would have gladly shoved the sharp rapier straight through the smug, insufferable face of 「 THE WORLD 」 instead.
❝ i know. ❞ she affirms in a small, broken voice. she never wanted this. ❝ i did-- i do. i still do. f- for us-- for our family. ❞
@lovesigned | continued from (x)
there was a time not too long ago — before their son, before the joestars, before even the flesh bud — when sherry worshipped him as her lord. a time when her heart sang with joy at his touch, whilst she willfully submitted to his insatiable appetites. although she was never unique in that respect, being eager, ready prey like the rest, DIO discerned a captivating spark which held her firmly in his favor, a stubborn tenacity begging his admiration. and for all the trouble she has caused him since, he still admires her resilience.
yes, even now, DIO makes no secret of his latent fondness for his little knight. perhaps it was misguided sentimentality which led him to try his luck; a moment of perverse, lingering affection tempting them both into mutually assured destruction. he wonders if she felt the same as he when she melted into his arms — if she, like him, tasted remnants of passion in their kiss. perhaps he had fooled himself into believing that in times of weakness, he could wear her down, little by little, if for nothing more than his own morbid amusement. to live and die in his gilded cage needn’t be so bad, if she would only accept the small pleasures he so graciously offers.
but of course, it’s just like sherry to turn every attempt at reconciliation into more fucking drama. he should have expected nothing less.
you and your fucking deal, he fumes, so preposterous in hindsight. his frown deepens to the tune of her vitriolic tirade. he should have never let her talk him into this godforsaken arrangement. he should have eradicated her and jotaro from the face of the earth, and spared himself the hell of this never-ending headache.
❝ ungrateful bitch, ❞ he spits, ❝ you dare test my mercy? you, whose pleas i indulged against my better judgment — whose wretched life you left at my disposal? ❞
he strikes her hard, claws slicing effortlessly through the delicate skin of her cheek, and notes with twisted satisfaction how her tears run red with the blood. he hopes it hurts as much as it looks. he hopes the wounds will never heal, and that the ensuing scars will serve as a humiliating reminder of her boldfaced impudence until she draws her final breath.
「 THE WORLD 」 appears beside its master, a silent witness to his divine retribution. it towers over his shoulder like a ghostly specter, watching passively as DIO lifts sherry by the crown of her skull to meet his furious glare.
❝ you forget how feeble you are in my grasp. ❞ he bends his head to just below her ear, growling into the crook of her neck, ❝ i could crush you like a twig betwixt my fingers. i could tear you apart limb from limb, rend the flesh from your bones. . . . spill your sweet blood for my thrall to lick from the floor. ❞ it would be so easy. a simple show of strength is all it would take to end this problem once and for all, a solution that grows ever more tempting by the second. his grip tightens in anticipation.
❝ go on, sherry. give me one more reason to end your life. ❞
the sweet taste of victory turns bitter within seconds after finishing her last sentence. there is a foreboding heaviness in the air, something shifts, she already knows that she has made a terrible mistake before his reaction even starts. her defiance is akin to a child's tantrum, smacking away the one offer of solution and inadvertently damning herself further. does she regret it? no, not at first. ( not at all, actually. ) it felt good to deny him, to know that for all which he twists the universe to get whether deserved or not, he cannot have her.
but she forgets how simple and cruel his impulsive conclusions can be. if he cannot have her, then why bother dealing with her ever again?
the sensation of skin splitting open on her cheek is felt before anything else, even before her mind registers the impact of actually being struck. she is instantly knocked to the floor before there is even a feeble hope to stand her ground. the flow of tears which follows is instantaneous, the salty sting of tears flow into the open wound, creating a watery crimson trail. her only consolation to salvage her pride is that aside from a gasp, she lets out no cry. the pain is horrid, but she intends to endure, like always.
except that he isn't quite satisfied with only this. no, now there are claws raking into a fistful of her hair, pulling her so harshly that she has sincere fears that she'll be scalped. that, unfortunately, prompts a pained cry from her that she cannot fight to contain.
「 SILVER CHARIOT 」 manifests beside her, acting on instinct despite her conscious decision to withhold him. the knight begrudgingly heeds her but to a limited degree. yellow eyes beneath the helm direct a furious glare to the other menacing stand, the grip on the rapier is tight, but remains unpointed for now. only because she begs him to withhold.
❝ . . . i'm sorry. ❞ she forces out, and perhaps those words are more painful than all the violence she has just endured. her voice is small and hoarse, pathetic sounding. she despises being reduced to this. but her fear is sincere and so therefore the remorse must seem so as well. she would love nothing more than to continue to scream and curse, to laugh haughtily and choose death. but her son, her poor son, he would be alone and at the mercy of his father. the truth is, her apology is directed to rikiel is nothing else, because either she will die right now or she will be haunted by this risk. ❝ i'm sorry. you are right. i was arrogant and unchecked. ❞
her eyes squeeze shut in feeble effort to stop the flow of tears, to the stop the torturous sting of them on her wounded cheek. ❝ chariot won't attack, i promise. he is only here because he perceives the attack. i won't let him do anything. ❞ a shudder, a frightful pause, forcing her eyes to open. ❝ i won't act out again, i promise. ❞
dani logs back on here and my ass reports for duty once again.
ohhh my god this is absolutely incredible ;A; i'm basically not here / not online anymore these days (could be subject to change idk) but i wanted to show off this art piece that this artist generously gifted me since they've been enjoying my crusader!sherry fic
had an important viewing session of vento aureo the godfather with @doomedsouls today.
god the casting for la squadra the godfather is so good
hey risotto are you still mad at me for the thing i did that one time
giorno, i am hovering menacingly outside of your mansion in full magneto costume getting ready to drop the eiffel tower on you
i am admittedly still mildly upset
la squadra still did nothing wrong btw
"are you a la squadra apologist still?" no. i'm worse. i'm a la squadra radicalist. they have nothing to apologize for, they had every right to snap.
Risotto with Metallica ✂️
Experimented a lot with lights for this artwork
“The first clear thought in years: I refuse to die.”
— Marya Hornbacher, from Madness: A Bipolar Life (via lifeinpoetry)
"You're losing blood" no I know exactly where it is. The floor. Don't ever underestimate me.
when god closes a door i desperately try to pry it open until im bleeding and even then i dont stop
michael holding kay by her waist.
oh boy i sure love my beautiful wife and our beautiful happy life together and the beautiful unsuspecting foreshadowing that would lead to my wife having anakin michael skywalker corleone level crashout on me!! :3
i love my beautiful wife and our beautiful children i sure hope that my wife isn't going to betray my trust by running to my trusted right hand man with secrets that cause me to grow paranoid to the point i turn into the worst amalgamation of misunderstood and misinterpreted protagonists in the modern age ^_^
omg neverrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ❤️
