TO HESITATE IS DEATH

Independent Role Play Blog Guido Mista from JJBA Part 5 Vento Aureo Please read About and Rules before interacting Est. (8/19/19)

[fredriks-foxy]

[michaelcorderoes]

#me

[inevitableshott]

oh shit i’ve made it a year

YEET

[inevitableshott-aa]

so mista, if you hate the number 4, do you super hate the number 44?

fugo doesn’t want to dignify them with an answer, but since they’ve gone as far as to pull their leg out in the face of the passione superpower he decides to entertain them….only once, because they might not live long enough for fugo to consider doing it a second time.

“he’s busy, and you’re really not worth the time spent.” fugo steps up a bit, a gatekeeper to the belly and the heat of italy. they truly wouldn’t make it out alive, and fugo’s leniency only goes so far when it comes to the anonymous strangers harassing the people cares about.

he’d rip a leg off at a moments notice before he ever gave anyone a chance to take a first step against them.

“…but i’m free…” finding his handkerchief from the inside of his jacket fugo polishes his knuckles. draws out the minutes with careful cleaning, and it’s not to clean what’s already there but it acts as careful preparation of what has yet to appear. small, gold, and porcelain like…and fugo knows exactly how much pressure it takes to make them pop. “…but because you decided to come outside and walk up to our front door and ask such a delightful question i’ll ask you one in return.”

“if i have six capsules…. and it only takes one to kill you..would you be scared of the number 1? and would you rather have 4 seconds or 44 seconds to run before i entertain you with my answer?”

now everyone say thank you to @strawberryrots

[inevitableshott]

@bitterlimoncello asked  3 - What was your father like in general?

Send a number and ask my muse about their father. (not accepting)

      How does one describe a man that couldn’t take a joke? That every single thing in his reality had to cater to his whim. A hair out of place could spiral into a week's ordeal of a ticking time bomb at the head of the dinner table. Nothing went his way and it was just the world's fault. Never enough money, never enough food, no one cared to make an effort in his reality.

      There could be a million and one words to describe such a misogynistic, narcissistic, egomaniac but the one Mista settled on was-- 

“A douche.”

[inevitableshott]

Anonymous said: Well, it could be a lot worse. At least they aren't calling you his Number Four.

"You dumb fucking shitheads only have the one joke, huh..."

       Limoncello isn't a particularly nice person, but she knows a line when she sees one. The number four, the sight of sand tinted eerie-blue in the night... they're fears rooted in different places, but Limoncello recognizes the indignity in having someone prod at them--especially callous is the outsider who thinks they can do so without repercussion, like they're making a joke so worth laughing at that people will forget that they've got no right to.

       But Limoncello doesn't forget these things, and isn't a nice person. And that this bastard thinks they have any claim to try this shit makes her meaner still.

       "Say... you ever heard of the survival rule of threes? They say you can survive three hours in extreme conditions, three days without drinkable water, three weeks without food..." Limoncello tips her head, haughty and derisive, and eyes them up like a particularly unpleasant and unfortunate cockroach that's skittered into her line of sight. "Three minutes without breathable air, even... Ain't that something? So, y'know, since three's the limit, I'm kinda curious! If I deprived you of air for four minutes, would you still be able to hack out that impotent little deflated-condom-balloon wheeze you call a laugh after?" Her eyes narrow, smile sharp and toothy--predatory, more snarl than grin. She flicks at the padlocks on her belt and Smooth Criminal descends, unnervingly wide-eyed, onto her shoulders.

"Let's try it."

everyone thank @bitterlimoncello​ for their time

[inevitableshott]

@hopingforjustice​ asked: 6 & 7! 

Send a number and ask my muse about their father. (not accepting)

6 - What was your father’s appearance like?

      “Shit, making me think here.” a hum, recalling a man he hasn’t seen in five odd years.  The man in question had dark blond hair, shaggy, always had bangs but kept it clean in the back. A big ol’ bushy goatee, and overall didn’t stand out. Typical sort of every man except the scowl pertinently placed on his face with droopy dark browns of utter dullness. The more he recalled the sour his saliva tasted.

      “Yeah, got nothing. Oh well.”

7 - What features did you inherit from your biological father?

       “Not sure. Don’t remember what he looks like to start and everyone tell me I look like my Moms. Not a bad apple to fall from I say.” There’d been time his Mama told him ‘Oh you have your Papa’s nose, jaw, eyes--’ yada yada, all Mom’s say that to their kids. Surprisingly, those remarks became less the closer to his parents separation. 

[bitterlimoncello]

@inevitableshott said: ✎you saw this coming

send ✎ and I’ll draw our muses together (fashion edition) // accepting. (slowly)

bold of me to put these two in outfits that aren’t midriff-baring.

[suturcd]

strawberry-print frannacotta for chloe “big brain” @strawberryrots

[bruiuh]

[inevitableshott]

bruiuh​:

Art by 遠

※ Permission to upload this work was granted by the artist. Do NOT repost/remove credit.

@arcitraditore​ | @strawberryrots​

[sasfuke]

jojo’s bizarre adventure part 5: golden wind OP 1: fighting gold

[inevitableshott]

@arcitraditore asked:  ❝ i’m trying to convince you to live. real living. not whatever rot living this is. ❞ bruno @ mista when he first meets him? please???

meme lost 

       Regret is something that weighs heavy on the heart. If only it was some chest pressure but this felt like chains instead, squeezing around his metaphorical heart tighter as the weight in question continued down the dark pit of his thoughts. Biting his thumb didn't help but he persisted. Perhaps gnawing to the flesh could clear up his mind. Hard to say but Mista continued as he sat at the desk in his cell, navigating the mess of chains.         Each time he attempted to pull one loose another snapped down increasing the drop. What if's are nasty little buds and none of them helped. If he had walked away a woman could be dead. A reminder that gave him strength. This is where he's meant to be was his logic. As terrible and soul-crushing it was, this is where he's supposed to go. Right?

       Regret bled into doubt and that doubt shacked his feet. Chains, chains all around him. Bars held him captive, despair choked him, frustration deprived him of rest. Iron licked his tongue and caused a reaction outcry, head tossed back to stare at the endless ceiling. Dark and gray, cracks dancing along matching ones in his soul. This wasn't what he wanted and he knew that as well. He didn't want this regret, this anger, this overwhelming sadness to drown him of living. How he longed a longing he'd smell the fresh air, feel the wind against his cheek. To see his Mother and hug her tight never letting her go again.        All these things pounded relentlessly in his head,  his heart, his very soul. A suffering he yearned to end.           No, no, no no...No matter how much he's sinned that's all too much. There was a reason he brought himself back around sitting back up only to stare at a wall. Everything happens for a reason. Yes, even this stroke of bad luck had to contain a purpose.           Jet black eyes darted to his cell door. He could hear so well the sounds of footsteps drawing in. The guards? No, they had harassed him earlier though it wasn't unlikely they'd come back for a second time so soon. But the figure that approached was no guard damn near not even the warden of this prison but a man. A bowl cut, white suit with black patterns, standing firm with an authority he felt compelled to respect. While the appearance alone caught his eyes and raised his brow, Mista turned his head forward, a scoff.        "Whatever you're selling I'm not interested." lawyers of different kinds wanted to appeal his case. He wasn't looking to be a challenge for some suit nor would he have any admission of guilt. Personal feelings aside to the public eye he felt justified in his actions. A justification that skipped but one he desperately clung to. He was tired of this weight one he'd saught so hard and long to be rid of to live life the way he wanted. ❝ i’m trying to convince you to live. real living. not whatever rot living this is. ❞        His eyes moved over to him once more. A blink gave pause ready to be the punchline but none came. The man stood waiting for his response. Mista stared still in shock out of the respect just given by a total stranger. As he continued to keep gaze with an ocean blue he felt that very look wash over him. Suddenly the chains dissolved letting him stand to his own feet and for the first time in almost a month, he could breathe.        Mista sighed, hands in his pockets, "Alright. I'm listening.”        Fate is a cruel mistress, but she has her reasons. This is what Mista believe deep into his healing soul.

[inevitableshott]

the landscape of your soul

volcanic fissure vent

your soul sinks. the earth around it as loose as cotton, it sinks and sinks until it joins the core of the earth. there it feels at home in the magma, in the heat! your thoughts, your feelings – they glow as vividly as the molten rock. you go through the world looking for that which will ignite a fire in you! and the things that do bask in your glow. you could hold an ordinary river rock and, in your hand, it would be gold. your passion flows over and lucky are those who are witness to it! do not give in to the pressure to present yourself in more palatable ways, demureness serves you badly. know the power you hold and your worth! your spark, your ardor – they ignite a fire in those around you as it nurtures your own. magma spews from the earth and erects mountains, creates islands, makes land were there wasn’t one, life where there wasn’t any. you – the creator. you – creative force. to read a book is never just a passive action, by consuming you create! you interpret, you visualize, you analyze. you fill the story with you! and what beauty and thrill do you add!

stolen from: @zettaflarc​ and @arcitraditore​ tagging: everyone go for it

[inevitableshott]

I've come here to say the English dub keeps giving me ammo and Mista can actually say the phrase "Who's your Daddy"

[inevitableshott]

“I don’t know if Mista is ESFJ”

>gets 5 bingos

I know I’m not active and this will change soon tm but I wanted to join in on this. 

Here’s where you can get some for yourself. 

[inevitableshott]

zettaflarc​ (giorno):

He tilts his head, amused. “No need for that. Though I know you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.”

       “...”

       “Never hurts to remind ‘em.”  

[arcitraditore]

@strawberryrots & @arcitraditore

brandon melendez, 1017490, 520618