I am finally clean

zucu on hiatus!

[zucu]

24/07/2026

if you're reading this, hi! I'm on an indefinite hiatus! I want to take a break from Tumblr and social media in general, mainly for mental health reasons, and I don't want to go into detail. thanks to my mutuals and everyone who reads my posts for the support. I honestly never thought I'd find people who had things in common with me 🤍 my account will be inactive for a while! see you next time! xoxo

[rodedioclown]

some doodles from my Instagram story :p

[partycemetery]

ooh ooh draw kakyoin pleasee

COME BACK TO ME!!1!1!1!!

[valives]

Hiii can i ask for HP, Gyro and Diego (separately, ofc) with a s/o who is going through a difficult phase in life/depressed? Or just comforting a sad s/o? (I would love to read it ๑•͈ᴗ•͈๑) Thank you in advance, and ofc no need to do it if you're uncomfortable!! Pls ignore this if that's the case

你的深情 望不到底

featuring: diego brando, gyro zeppeli, hot pants.

tags: fem! reader, established relationships, hurt/comfort, mentions of deaths and depression, grief/loss, more fluff than angst >_<

a/n: this was so comforting to write. thank you anon, if you’re in a similar situation, i hope it gets better for you soon ( ⸍ɞ̴̶̷ ·̫ ɞ̴̶̷⸌ 🫶) i love you~

DIEGO BRANDO

Initially has no fucking idea. If anything, Diego is mad that you weren’t responding to his texts and calls for a few hours, though it gradually became a concern to the point that he had to drop by your place where he found you lying flat on the floor.

You aren’t passed out, thank God. The day just drained all the energy out of you. Diego being… Diego, he’ll throw a few snarky comments your way before realizing you’re still unmoving, at which point he’ll gruffly help you up. 

Growing up in extreme poverty, his first thought was that you’re having money troubles. Are you stressed out about work? Is your rent due? Is your boss giving you a hard time? Either way, Diego will ask, and very insistently, tell you to quit your job on the spot if it happens to be the root of your suffering. He has more than enough to take care of his partner.

I also think he has to hold back real hard to not just throw a black card in your face and tell you to go buy the entire mall lol.

Diego will stop prying if you choose to remain quiet, though he’s pretty frustrated inside. Let’s say this is the first time he's seen your low since you two got into a relationship; this guy has no idea what to do. He frowns, he grumbles, but he’s moving around your apartment, cranking up the AC, DoorDashing your favorite food, opening a water bottle, and practically showing it down your throat because you just look so dehydrated @-@ 

Pats your back awkwardly as you sit on your bed. He’ll comfort you first, surprise! Textbook phrases like “You’re not alone” or “It’s okay to cry” with the most deadbeat, robotic delivery imaginable. He finds them so cringe and corny deep down, but again, he’s hiding it for your sake.

Words alone don’t seem sufficient to him anyway, but Diego just sounds so absurd that you can’t help but let out a snort amidst your depression spiral. He clicks his tongue, but his face softens. He’s glad to see your light come back, if only just a little.

Using his mysterious web of connections ™, he whisks you away from civilization for a few days. You’re stunned to find out that there’s no fancy yacht or overly glamorized suite awaiting. Instead, you both board the train to a small coastal town where you stay at an inn nestled by the sea. A simple yet beautiful room on the second floor, with a private balcony that overlooks the blue water.

There’s just enough sun that doesn’t make the heat too unbearable during the day, but a thin layer of sweat still covers his forehead as Diego carries you on his back, strolling along the shore. He's complaining the entire time, but if you want another go, he won't refuse. He likes the feeling of your fingers in his hair <3

Later, when you’re collecting seashells together, a photographer asks to take a picture of you two. Diego, of course, agrees immediately, already pulling you in by the waist. 

It should have come out beautifully. The sky, the sea, your head leaning slightly against his shoulder as you smile after what seems like weeks of rain clouds. Except right when the shutter clicks—

A crab scuttled out of the sand and pinched Diego’s bare toe 💔 his face sours immediately while you struggle (and fail) to contain your laughter.

It didn’t go on the boutique's Instagram page, per se, but you have a few copies taped to the wall of your bedroom that will act as the perfect blackmail material…

GYRO ZEPPELI

Boyfriend of the year award!

You’re in the same Med program as him and Gyro walks you back to his place after class, mainly because he can already tell something’s bothering you that day.

Personally, there has been time where my depression got so bad it spiked up my stuttering, and as a result, I can't properly speak with a meltdown :x If the same goes for you, trust that Gyro will be super understanding and supportive! 

Doesn't force you to speak and doesn't speak for you either. On the way back, he’ll visit the store for groceries, but also your favorite snacks and ingredients to whip up the perfect comfort food.

I think he’s also a big fan of rolling you into a burrito with his blanket lol. Getting you comfy on the couch with a hot drink while he cooks in the kitchen nearby. He’ll check on you every few minutes, accompanied by a sweet forehead kiss.

So dejected you can’t even get up? He’s more than happy to carry you anywhere, including the shower. Speaking of which, Gyro will wash your hair as you soak in a warm bath, massaging your scalp with gentle fingers. He’s yapping about random things here and there, but you don’t have to say anything back. 

Since it’s his place, he uses his shampoo and body wash on you. It makes this man soooo weak because you now smell just like him <3 

Blows dry your hair and puts you to sleep after. If you’re up for some physical touch, Gyro will climb into bed with you, one hand rubbing your back in soothing circles as the other gently strokes your hair. He’s humming a silly little tune, but it’s softer and quieter than his usual outburst.

You’ll wake up to the smell of the most aromatic coffee every morning, and a kiss of course! Gyro is outgoing by nature, but he’s content with spending the whole day just lazing around by your side. 

You two are just relationship goals.

But I’d like to take a second to step back and say that things aren’t always this picture perfect. Gyro has a long history of repressing his negative feelings and compensates for them by being extra annoying. So it wasn’t like he didn’t care or didn’t know what to do back then lol, it’s that he’s doing way too much that it ended up overwhelming you.

One time you snapped at him amidst your anger. It was pretty early in your relationship and Gyro backed off immediately. After that, you two didn’t speak to each other for a whole hour. 

Once you had managed to calm down, you feel so bad. He was just trying his best to cheer you up. You found Gyro sitting in the corner of your living room where this giant man curled up like a kicked puppy, rocking himself back and forth (T_T)

You apologized first, though halfway you just got so emotional you started breaking down again, which made Gyro panic and pull you into his arms. You cried, he crew, we both crode. Months later, it's still somewhere you both religiously use to tease each other. 

But since then, you’ve learned to be more patient with him. In return, Gyro also noted to give you personal space when you needed it. 

At the end of the day, though, you two would always have each other, and it's all that matters.

HOT PANTS

.

.

.

You wrote a short eulogy the night before, but when it’s time to get behind the podium, you’re suddenly unable to speak. Hot Pants reads it for you in her steady voice, and for a moment, you wonder if you should cry. It’s a freezing December morning with snow falling heavily outside the window.

You attend your grandmother’s funeral as the only living family member.

“We can leave this afternoon,” you say softly over the hymn, staring down at her peaceful face. “After I sign the paperwork.”

Hot Pants stills for a brief second, her hand ghosting along the flower arrangements that surround the casket. White roses, lilies, and soft blue hydrangeas, the old woman’s favorite colors. 

“I can wait. Don’t rush yourself.”

“I’m not," you muse, not looking up. “I’ve had a good life thanks to her.”

The service has ended by now. Most people came and left shortly after—old neighbors, acquaintances, friends of your family.

Your parents passed away when you were a child.

Since then, you’ve stayed with your grandparents. Your grandfather died when you were in junior high, and just when you graduated from college, your grandmother was hospitalized. 

On the day of the funeral, another old lady shows up. She’s your mother’s friend and was deeded jointly. The property will now be passed to her. 

You just need a new deed to update the title.

Hot Pants’ brow furrows. You huff a laugh.

“She helped my family out a lot. I don’t mind.”

“It’s your house.” She says solemnly. “You’ve lived there your entire life.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, pondering.

“It’s too big anyway,” you say with a smile. “I’ll get lonely.”

Sensing another objection, you open your mouth first.

“My grandma didn’t have a will, but she left me some money.” 

You take both of her hands in yours, giving them a firm squeeze.

“She said to me the last time I came to visit with you: ‘I don’t want you to wake up alone a day in your life.’”

Her face softens just a fraction as she squeezes your hand back.

“Didn’t she wish you anything else?”

“Nope!”

The small sapphire on your finger glistens under the soft light.

“Grandma said I’ll be alright with you.”

—

The second you both step outside, the cold immediately settles in. Hot Pants brushes a few snowflakes out of your hair, helps you put on a pair of gloves, and then wraps a scarf around both of your necks.

Hand in hand, you walk down the street.

“This was my elementary school.”

You point towards a small brick building, now covered in pure white.

“I would wait for my grandma at the entrance every afternoon. Sometimes I did my homework while sitting on one of these red fire hydrants.”

Further down, you stop in front of an old playground.

“I fell down from the roundabout here when I was six.” You smile faintly at the memory. “Grandpa said I didn’t cry even when I had nine stitches. He praised me for being brave and got me ice cream.”

Her gloved fingers brush over the small scar between your brows. You giggle because it tickles.

The snow crunches beneath your boots as you continue walking.

“This is where I would get my favorite strawberry milk,” you stop again next to an out-of-order vending machine beside a small park. 

“It’s all I used to spend my allowance on. If I happened to drop by when someone was doing a restock, I could nag them for a freebie.” 

She breathes out an amused sigh, pinching your cheek gently. You huff.

“I was a cute child. Of course it always worked.”

Across the street, there’s a corner store with faded signs.

“I worked there part-time in junior high. The owner there was really nice. He gave me all the bentos that didn’t sell at the end of the day.”

Your voice gets quieter and quieter.

“It was the week after my Grandpa passed away… Grandma wouldn’t speak for a long time. I brought food home, and we ate in silence.”

Everything felt false when the news of her death reached you the other day. Except nothing is. You’re walking on the road you’ve walked on for years, seeing the same places you’ve seen a million times before. The last time you opened the door holding Hot Pants’ hand and a gift bag, your Grandma was sitting by the fireplace, sleeping. Now, as the house rises up against the horizon and slowly comes into view at the end of the street, you suddenly dread the moment that door opens again. Stepping into an emptiness so great you could barely cry. The blackness of the cosmos.

You feel her thumbs swiping under your eyes even before there are any actual tears. Your vision blurs. Maybe it’s the snow.

“Can we get ice cream?”

“Sure.”

You sniffle. “Really?”

“Not too much, though.” Hot Pants tightens the scarf around your neck, then pulls you closer.

“You’ll get a sore throat.” 

.

.

.

no hot pants favoritism is involved in the process of writing this request.

🏷️: @manaribbons @sshikoyo @lovelacesonnette @batwngs @goodluckjane

[luviery]

DANGO

summary: Jotaro doesn't like you or so you think. pairing: Jotaro x reader tags and warnings: modern au (please assume some modern equivalent of stardust crusaders), jotaro and reader are like 19-20, fluff, humour with an undertone of sadness, Biker! Jotaro agenda, first time writing for jjba, so pls be kind, bad summary, one mention of dress, also ty @batwngs for proofing!!! mwah! and maybe some innacuracies wc: 1.5k

"Hop on."

It was a summer evening — the supposed season of light, yet gloom surrounds you. According to the weather report today, it was going to be sunny, marking the start of the season, but, as if it were almost a ritual, the forecast was wrong as dark clouds cloaked the light blue of the sky. The metal of the bench digs into your skin while you wait for the bus to arrive.

You hadn't expected the day to go the way it did. It was supposed to be fun. A cute little ice cream date at the parlor with a guy you met on one of the dating apps you had downloaded a few months back. It had been a while since you even thought about dating, but the guy seemed nice.

Yet here you were sitting alone at a lonely bus stop.

Men disappoint.

A gruff voice pulls you out of your thoughts, eyes blurry from pressing them against your palms as you try to find out which idiot decided to interfere in your wallowing. Etches of black fill your vision before you realized it was a leather jacket. And you only knew one man in your town who wore leather jackets and was as tall — Jotaro Kujo. Your crush. No, ex-crush. The boy who rejected you under the cherry blossom tree was here again in front of you after you had been rejected by a stranger.

Fate loved you the way you loved pineapples. It didn’t.

"Hop one," Jotaro repeats, his arms folded as the leather scrunched against the crevices of his biceps. Sea green eyes trace over your slumped figure with an air of nonchalance that you definitely don't need right now. Maybe you were too hurt to see the way his eyes softened with guilt at your reddened eyes.

"Leave me alone."

He doesn't.

Because Jotaro was nothing but stubborn.

A few minutes pass by. You have your head on your lap, cradled by your hands, wishing the bus would just put you out of misery. Kids who were out and about on the streets laugh, the happiness tinging the air with sweetness but it doesn't reach you.

"It looks like it's going to rain," He says, the same impassive look carved on his features like something permanent. It was true; it did look like it would rain, and you knew your mother would get worried if you got caught up. Letting out a huff, you stand before brushing against the fabric of your clothes.

"Fine," you murmur, standing next to the gleaming vehicle. He hands you the helmet, a circular black one that shined against the remaining beams of sunlight that filtered through the clouds.

"What about yours?" you ask him as he grips the handlebars, looking straight ahead. He doesn't look at you, just murmuring something about how it was a short distance. After strapping the helmet on, you climb behind him, sitting at the edge of your seat so as to put as much distance as one possibly could. Jotaro looks at you through the side mirrors, "Hold on to me, or you will fall."

"No. I can fig—" The string of words is cut off with a yelp when Jotaro starts driving the bike at a speed that was well beyond the speed limit as you instinctively hug his waist, pressing your head against the leather of his jacket. Once he feels your warm arms around him, he slows down slightly.

"Fuck you, jackass," you punch his bicep lightly before laying your head against his back, the cold winds striking you like chords of music, the fabric of your dress fluttering in the air. Maybe if you had looked a little longer at him through the side mirror, you might have noticed the slight curl to his lips.

You hadn't looked around your surrounding during the ride, all your will focused on making sure you don't fall of the bike. The slow stop of the bike paired with the smooth breeze made you believe you had finally reached home except when you open your eyes, you are greeted with the sight of the local bakery — your favorite bakery.

"Get down."

"Jotaro, why are we here?" you ask, your voice as calm as it could possibly be. No, you were not angry at the fact that you were greeted by the sweetened smell of vanilla and chocolate. It was the fact that Jotaro was being a confusing man right now.

"Get Down." Jotaro turned, his sea green eyes a lot more blue in the sunlight. Oh god, did he look beautiful! He always was. It was almost like the clouds dispersed, waving way for the blue sky just so you could see him in the light. Just so you could never forget how beautiful he is. But you needed no reminder. You couldn't forget the face of the boy you had loved since you were fifteen. Even if you tried, you couldn't after all, being next-door neighbours doesn't warrant that.

"No, take me home, and then you can do whatever the fuck you —- hey!"

"Good grief." Jotaro plants his feet on the asphalt below, tilting the bike towards the ground. You squeeze your eyes, clutching onto his arms as you shout. "Fine, fine. I'll get down."

Jotaro parks the bike while you step into the bakery to find an empty booth, the owner — Shizuka — waving at you. You had been at the tiny bakehouse more times than you can remember becoming one of their most valuable customers.

The ding of the bell sweeps your attention away as Jotaro stepped in. He was everything the bakery was not. Black leather jacket draped over white t-shirt paired with black jeans while surrounded by drapes of pink silk and white cotton. He looked straight out of a magazine, his hat with gold borders sat on top.

You look away when he catches you staring, heat warm in your cheeks. After a few minutes, a ceramic plate with hanami dango is placed in front of you. Jotaro slides onto the opposite side of the booth, face as nonchalant as always.

"What's this?" you ask, though you knew the answer as well as a person knowing their own name. He rolls his eyes before folding his arms. Minutes pass by, and you were sure you would not get an answer from him, as you take the skewer.

"Your favorite," he mumbles, voice so soft you could have missed it. Your eyes widen, almost loosing grip on the bamboo sticks.

"How did you know it's my favorite."

You were not sure whether you were wafting in a dream when you saw the slight red coating his cheeks. Jotaro blushed? Maybe you were dreaming. No, you are dreaming. This was the same man who rejected you under the cherry blossom tree a few months ago with a simple, impassive No.

You ignore him, munching on the pink dumpling. Once the first skewer was rid of all the three dumplings, you huff , settling back onto the cushion. Jotaro was on his phone, eyes focused intently like he was reading something.

"Why are you doing this, Jotaro?" you ask. Why was he being kind to you after that day? Though you were neighbors, you may have met him only two times in the entirety of six months — a result of avoiding him.

"Because you deserve better." It's almost immediate, like the words were sitting on the tip of his tongue waiting to be let out. To be heard. Jotaro doesn't look at you, he couldn't. Not when he was the reason behind it. You might never know, but he liked you; hell, he loved you. Loves you. But he couldn't bring you into a life of uncertainty. A life that could hold no promises. You deserved someone better. Better than him. But he didn't tell you that instead added something more credible "And your mother told my mother about your date."

The initial shock wears off as you roll your eyes. Of course your mother told Holly. They were best friends after all. But his words stayed like the cold in the air even when the sky cleared up. What did he even mean by that?

The bike ride back home was a lot more solemn. Something had changed, but you couldn't place it. Through the visor, you could see the front lawn of both your houses, bushes covering each side with pink blossoms. Once you got down, you gave him back his helmet with a roll of your eyes. Maybe it was easier being rude to him than figuring out what the words at the bakery meant.

His mother never told him about your date. He had heard it when your mother spoke on the phone to you in the garden. He heard how your date had stood you up, and you were at a part of the city that had sporadic bus routes. He hadn't even thought much about it, immediately grabbing his bike keys as a reflex as he ran out the door. A reflex for you.

Jotaro looks at your form disappearing past the front door. It was for the best to let you go. For you. For him. But did he really believe that? Will he ever do? He doesn't know, but the words stay like a bandage on his broken heart that he himself was the reason for.

taglist for jjba is open!

[tamattuta]

inspired by official art

[moviecritc]

domestic life with husband!gyro zeppeli ꒰ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ an extract of your life together after the steel ball run

cw: fluff, hurt/comfort

husband!gyro zeppeli who asked for your hand the same day you two finished the race, after four months traveling he was sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. You said yes, those four months together were too intense to leave him.

husband!gyro zeppeli who buys a big house by the coast of Italy all to yourselves, the money of the race (at that time) was enough to live a calm life without any worries until the day of your death, so neither of you had to worry about anything else than each other. The wedding was something small and intimate, and after that, you started your life as a married couple.

husband!gyro zeppeli who wakes up before sunrise to take care of the garden where you planted some tomatoes and strawberries together, harvesting a few of them for breakfast. After doing that, he goes back into bed to cuddle with you while you're still asleep, taking his time to admire your calm features and soft breathing.

husband!gyro zeppeli who pretends to be asleep when you wake up, yawning and stretching like he hasn't been admiring you for the past hour. He takes you in his big arms, placing you right on top of him, kissing your face repetitive times even after you complain.

husband!gyro zeppeli who makes breakfast with you, humming an old melody he can't name while he heats up some water for coffee and you cut the tomatoes. He takes your hand and spins you, wrapping his arm around your waist and sitting you on the counter while he feeds you bites of your own toast.

husband!gyro zeppeli who takes a huge umbrella and some towels and goes to the beach with you. That's how you spend your mornings, bathing and tanning in the warm Italian sun, with Gyro spending most of the time in the water. You know better than accompany him, because if you put a feet in the cold water, he's already lifting you and taking you deeper so he can throw you around while he giggles.

husband!gyro zeppeli who gets tanned easily, his skin turns a soft caramel color just after two weeks of going to the beach.

husband!gyro zeppeli who also knows how to sit beside you in the towels, napping quietly or talking in whispers while you tan. He would love to cuddle in the sand, but last time that happened, he had your hand print in your back all summer.

husband!gyro zeppeli who, when you had enough beach, takes you back to your home, sharing a shower together where you wash each other's bodies. He has so much care of your curls, detangling them and applying shampoo exactly how you taught him. You're as careful as him even thought he doesn't really care and somehow always has the most luscious and shiny hair ever.

husband!gyro zeppeli who cooks for you, usually pasta. You both know at some point of your lives you'll have to learn how to cook something else, but you don't even care for that at the moment.

husband!gyro zeppeli who keeps you in his lap while you eat together with a glass of wine, once again feeding each other from the same plate because why bother with different things when you can just share?

husband!gyro zeppeli who tried ditching his job when he came back, he tried talking to his father, saying that he cannot handle that labor and can't find himself confessing his job to you. He can't imagine the look on your face when you realize that your husband is an executioner. But his father insists that it's his duty, that his blood dictates his job and that when his father dies, there has to be someone to take his place.

husband!gyro zeppeli who cries that night in your chest, leaving you confused about his feelings. His shoulders shake as he holds you tighter, you run your fingers through his golden hair, whispering soft questions, but he just buries his face deeper against you, breathing heavy and uneven.

husband!gyro zeppeli who finally pulls back after what feels like forever, his blue eyes all red and glassy under the moonlight coming through the window. He confesses everything right there, voice cracking as the words tumble out. How his family has this duty, how he is supposed to be an executioner, carrying out sentences that make his stomach turn every single time. He keeps repeating that he doesn't like it, that he hates it, that the blood and the finality of it all haunt him even when he is with you in your peaceful little house by the sea.

husband!gyro zeppeli who looks so terrified while he speaks, thinking every word is a risk that could make you pack your things and run. His hands tremble as they cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, memorizing you in case this is the last time. He says he tried to leave it all behind after the race, tried to build this life with you without the shadow of his last name hanging over everything, but his father keeps pulling him back.

husband!gyro zeppeli who breaks down harder when he finishes talking, fresh tears spilling down as he waits for your reaction. He whispers sorry over and over, voice thick with fear that you will see him differently now, that the man who spins you in the kitchen and throws you in the waves could never be loved by someone who knows the truth.

husband!gyro zeppeli who feels your arms wrap around him instead as you tell him that it's okay. You still love him, all of him, you kiss his forehead, his wet cheeks, promising that his job does not define the husband who loves you so openly every single day.

husband!gyro zeppeli who clings to you after that, crying out the rest of his pain while you hold him close. Your words sink into him, easing the knot in his chest until his breathing evens out against your skin. He falls asleep like that, exhausted but lighter, with your fingers still tracing soothing patterns on his back.

husband!gyro zeppeli who wakes up the next morning to you suggesting you both talk to his dad together. His eyes go wide at first, surprised and a little scared, but then he nods, pulling you into his lap right there in bed. He kisses you slow, murmuring that he doesn't know what he did to deserve someone like you.

husband!gyro zeppeli who somehow manages to stand up to his father with you by his side, ditching his job forever and not caring about what he has to say. His father is a little surprised that this is the first time he's heard about his wife.

husband!gyro zeppeli who's now free for all the burden, going back to focusing all the attention on you.

husband!gyro zeppeli and you, who are still in touch with Johnny after the race. You send letters to him ever month, telling him little updates of your quiet life, urging him to come visit you some time.

husband!gyro zeppeli who makes years pass like weeks. Even when wrinkles start to form next to your eyes, he still looks at you like the moment you punched his face in the first stage of the race (the moment that he says he fell in love with you). Even after you start forming a family, heavily pregnant with your first child, he was the most loving husband ever. When that little kid runs around the house, giggling just like him, he runs behind her trying to catch her.

husband!gyro zeppeli who, eventually leaves before you when you're old enough to expect it. Your already married daughter organizes the funeral, your granddaughter cries even more than you. And of course you feel sad, he was the love of your life, the only one, actually. But you have done so much together, all your memories were shared with him. He never left your side, until now, and you know it's not going to take long until you find each other again.

taglist: @carinemylove @jelxqa @swamelon @liliesofth3valley @angelicaero @batwngs @vivalamal @zucu @kentonanamishousewife @jh0pesjuicylefttoe @pomegranate-shortcake @munji-tunji @blueccaat @fatalxfantasy @ethernalimerence @goodluckjane @irisgrrl @amibutamy

[kinitajojo]

Gyro the sexiest 🔥

[likeawolfatthemoon]

the prophecy - t.s.

[tamattuta]

[inohacia]

i lowk forgot i have tumblr…

[gutsssee]

if Gyro survived at the end, do you think he would quit being executioner?

to be honest i think he would. because he was meant to inherit the position and i think he’s selfless enough that he wouldn’t want to force that on another of his siblings to have to bear. something i didn’t realize is that he did actually assist with and execute people, i thought marco would have been his first execution but he would have been the first as the head executioner. brutal nevertheless.

in my opinion, gyro’s greatest struggle as ‘inheritor’ was mainly that he disliked being a vector of his father’s ideology, and not necessarily his vocation. so i think his sense of duty to his country and protectiveness of his family, as well as pride in his spin techniques and desire to get better at them, would keep him in the position. his aversion to killing people has to do with the authority of the person ordering the killing and the moral consent to justify it. his struggle with marco was that consent, and questioning the authority which ordered it for no reason. i think that as head executioner, he’d be in more of a position to demand that consent and justification before blindly carrying out a killing.

his struggle as a surgeon was that of the ball hitting the net. there was the choice, who lives and who dies. he has become that authority ordering the killing, as a doctor. but i think that lesson 5, and finding the golden path through a detour, would help him in a new way. with wekapipo’s sister, his father new that the roundabout, keeping her blind, was the right path, because that way she was protected from the government. gyro blew through straight ahead and failed to fix her eyes even still. but now, he’d be more patient, somehow even more calculated in his actions.

i think that after the papal states collapse he’d definitely stay in that business of being a doctor, and gladly give up the burden of execution.

those r my thoughts i tried to go answer this several times in the past few days and didnt have an answer but now ive pondered! sorry it took so long!!! thank you so much for the ask anon reach out anytime!!!

[gutsssee]

and any of us would have done the same in this situation.

[scary-monsters]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𓆩♱𓆪 5.8k ✧ royalty au ✧ diego/reader

✧ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: diego brando, wekapipo, magenta magenta, lucy, steven, mountain tim, hot pants, johnny, nicholas, gyro, pocoloco (italicized names will become more relevant in future chapters) ✧ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after the kingdom of verdigris' queen passes away, her only son diego brando is set to take the throne. a new leader requires a sworn knight, and you are participating in the trials to claim that role. new to the kingdom and largely unfamiliar with the prince, you are uncertain about your new responsibility, and your protectee's inscrutable nature isn't making that any easier. .⭒୨ read on ao3 instead ୧⭒.

Today was, perhaps, one of the most important days of your life. Such a fact wasn’t wholly obvious even during the moments you’d spent climbing the stairs to enter the kingdom of Verdigris’ towering castle, but it was clearly a crossroads of which you were still unsure of the outcome.

Just two months ago, you’d packed up everything you’d owned back in the neighboring kingdom of Fallow and landed on Verdigris for a few reasons. One, it was still fairly close to where you’d grown up. Not that returning home was exactly on your bucket list, but it was nice to feel a sense of familiarity all while essentially starting fresh. Two, your previous goal of reaching knighthood had been unfortunately unsuccessful, leaving you searching for any opportunities elsewhere. Fallow’s beloved Princess Lucy Steel had chosen someone else admittedly far more qualified, but it didn’t make the disappointment any less uncomfortable to live with. And third, things were changing in Verdigris. The Queen had passed and left behind no family besides her only son, Diego Brando, who would now take the reins at the young age of 22. A newly appointed leader would need a knight, after all, and you weren’t exactly in the business of being too picky at this point.

What did you know about Diego Brando? Not much, besides civilian chatter and what little your sole connection to the castle would share. Commander Wekapipo, who had served as one of the castle’s primary protectors even before Diego had been born, always kept his commentary on the young royal short and simple.

“The intricacies of the Prince’s personality don’t matter,” he’d calmly stated while the two of you had taken a break from training. “What matters is that he is protected, at all costs.”

You’d let his words roll around in your head for a moment as you gave your wooden practice sword a few experimental swings. At the same time, your eyes stayed fixated on the castle looming just nearby. Generally, it was difficult to get this close without holding some special place in the kingdom’s hierarchy, but Wekapipo had been kind enough to offer you semi-regular lessons after you’d happened to cross paths in the shopping district.

Actually, he’d been short a few coins while buying lunch, and you were resourceful enough to cover his ass and strike a deal in the meantime. Whether or not he was happy about this deal remained to be seen, but he was, at the very least, an honorable man who fulfilled his promises. And for that, you were grateful.

“So you’re saying the quality of his character doesn’t matter?” You finally asked, hoping the question would not come across disrespectfully. It wasn’t that you doubted Diego was a good man, but rumors certainly had a way of circulating, even if they mostly seemed outlandish.

“The moment you start judging that is the moment your sense of duty falls apart,” Wekapipo immediately answered, though the tone of his voice made it unclear if he actually believed those words to be true or not. “Now, if you want this title I suggest we keep practicing.”

That was the thing about your sessions with Wekapipo; he left little to no time to talk or discuss anything that might’ve been helpful in your path towards knighthood, but he was a damn good swordsman and you certainly weren’t going to argue with him. With any luck, his expertise would soak into your mind and body and leave you with a much better chance at what you truly felt was your purpose.

Now halfway up the stairs and surrounded by a group of similarly hopeful peers, you steeled yourself for another potential ‘no’. Just hours before this, you’d taken part in a rigorous series of tests alongside the others: jousting, combat drills, rucking, stone throwing… all things you succeeded decently well at thanks to your additional training on the side, but you still had no way of knowing if it was good enough. During the tests, you hadn’t gotten a good look at Diego in the shaded area in which he was seated, but you could feel his watchful eyes taking note of every single movement you made. Being surrounded by civilians who were all watching just for the thrill of it meant little to you when you knew Diego’s opinion would be the ultimate deciding factor at the end of it all.

Your calves stung and your shoulders ached as the final steps came into view, the double doors leading inside the castle were already swung open by some of Diego’s staff, welcoming your group of twenty inside. It was the first time you’d seen the interior, but it was equally as impressive as its towering presence outside. Sky blue marble columns lined the edges of the entry room, bookended by pale gold ornamental details at their top and bottom. Similar gold decorated the walls, which arched into the ceiling in a way that all but forced the viewer’s eyes to wander until reaching the delicately painted expanse of pegasi playing amongst clouds. It was absolutely breathtaking, and you weren’t going to deny that, but you did your best to stay vigilant and focused.

Your group continued traversing the lengthy entryway, booted feet thumping against a pristinely white carpet that led into yet another doorway. It was here that you saw a familiar face guarding the set of doors, though Wekapipo did not acknowledge you beyond greeting everyone as a whole with a sweeping glance and singular nod.

“His Highness is waiting inside,” Wekapipo said, his tone almost indicative of a warning. “Once you step past this door, you should not speak. If you do, you’ll be disqualified and tossed out.”

“He hasn’t made his decision yet, then?” A gruff voice came suddenly from behind you.

You watched Wekapipo carefully to gauge his reaction, which was not positive. The corner of his mouth twitched in slight irritation, but his well-trained ability to remain stoic stayed firmly intact as he calmly replied.

“Does it matter? I assure you this won’t take long. If you have more important matters, feel free to leave.”

Not another peep came from any of you, and nobody made the decision to walk away.

“Good. Please step inside.”

With that, the doors were opened. Wekapipo led your group inside along matching carpet nestled atop a sea of pale blue and white tiled floor. Diego’s throne room was quite similar to the entryway, though it was significantly larger. Painted details along the ceiling remained largely the same, though they continued onward along the wall behind his throne, showcasing yet another pegasus with its wings outstretched and cupping an artistic depiction of the sun. That, however, was not what captivated your eyes upon stepping foot inside. Sure enough, Diego Brando was seated in his deep blue velvet padded throne, one elbow resting on an armrest, his cheek settled against his fist.

It was the first time you’d ever gotten a decent look at the man. Small in stature, but something about his energy felt large, inescapable. Golden blonde hair fell in delicate waves along his shoulders, shielded parts of his forehead in three sections of bangs, but left his sharp blue eyes uncovered as they scanned every single one of you. You wondered what he was thinking, seeing as during the trials all of you had your faces covered by armor. The only thing telling you apart had been the numbered sashes and small flags attached to your bodies. Now, you all stood before him feeling almost naked in your regular linen tunics and pants.

After all twenty of you had lined up in front of his throne in two lines of ten, Wekapipo took his place next to Diego and directed his attention to the Prince himself.

“Your Highness, all twenty hopefuls are standing before you, have you made your decision?”

Diego chewed at his inner cheek, giving your group a sweep with his eyes as his free hand tapped thoughtfully against the large belt adorning his slim waist. Finally, he glanced up at Wekapipo and beckoned the man to lean towards him with a wave of that same hand.

Standing at the very edge of the front line, you heard someone behind you whisper and did your best to ignore it. Lip reading was not a skill you possessed, but you wanted to know what exactly Diego was quietly saying to Wekapipo when the man leaned forward to listen. Was he dissatisfied with the entire lot of you? About to send you all packing? You could feel your heart pounding in your chest when Wekapipo muttered something back, the two men nodded, and then he was standing up straight again.

“His Highness has requested contestant number fifteen,” Wekapipo called out. “Please step forward.”

For a moment, your mind went blank as you fought to remember your number. It wasn’t until another contestant behind you shoved gently at your back that you realized – you were number fifteen.

Nerves completely shot and heartbeat reverberating in your throat, you took two steps forward and addressed Diego first with an expected bow before dropping down to one knee. Diego’s lips curled, but something in his face was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if you were being chosen as his knight or about to be thrown out for breaking some rule you weren’t aware of.

“Number fifteen, please state your name,” Wekapipo requested, putting on an act as if he hadn’t been working directly with you for days now.

You followed his instruction, stating it clearly and confidently. Diego repeated it, his voice eerily warm and gentle for someone with so much power. It felt like minutes had passed before you felt the urge to ask if you were in trouble, but just as your lips parted to break the awkward silence, Diego broke it for you.

“I’ve made my decision,” he addressed Wekapipo, then gestured towards the rest of the group without even giving them another look. “I’ve no need for the rest.”

The knee you hadn’t knelt on felt like it might buckle. Why was fear the most prominent feeling in your gut at this moment, rather than elation? This was your dream, even if this particular royal had not been your first choice. And yet, as Wekapipo led the other nineteen now-crestfallen hopefuls back out the door, you had to fight to keep the bile from leaving your stomach.

More minutes seemed to tick by as Wekapipo returned to his place next to Diego; the room felt significantly larger still now that its occupants had lessened.

“For Christ’s sake, stand,” Diego instructed, something about his energy shifting now that it was just the three of you. Even his accent seemed more noticeable. “No need to wear those knees out any more.”

Despite the slight confusion in tone shift, you obeyed, looking to Wekapipo to see if he was similarly perturbed. The man wasn’t, but he stepped closer to you and placed a hand on your back.

“Come, I’ll show you to your room. Castle staff will drop by your place in the city to grab your belongings and bring them here,” he explained, guiding you towards a hallway off the side of the throne room.

That was it? You looked over your shoulder at Diego, who was leaning back in his chair and toying with the hem of his billowy sleeve, not sharing another word or glance. It was odd, but you allowed Wekapipo to lead you out of the room, both your feet clicking against tile floor that matched the previous two.

“You may speak now, by the way,” Wekapipo teased, his tone softer now that the pair of you were in a smaller space. “You’re a resident of the castle now, so there’s no need to be timid or shy.”

‘Timid’ wasn’t exactly how you were feeling. ‘Confused’ or ‘bewildered’ would be more accurate, as your tongue felt heavy with all the questions you had but couldn’t bring yourself to ask for fear of being disrespectful.

Wekapipo, however, did not pry. Perhaps he could sense how overwhelmed you were as he led you down a long hallway and finally to an unlabeled door flanked by rooms for other members of staff.

“This is you,” he turned the knob, swinging the door open and gesturing inside for you to go first. “It’s not much, but prove yourself for long enough and you’ll be rewarded, just as I have been.”

Not much? One look into the bedroom had your breath caught in your throat. It was gorgeous, stocked with amenities and furniture of a caliber that you’d never known in your entire life. Not nearly as luxurious as what you’d just walked through to get here, but you’d have been a fool to be even the tiniest bit unhappy with it.

Once inside, you did a full spin to view the entire room, noting the already full closet of clothing, your very own washroom, and a bed so large you’d have been unable to touch each side at the same time even while laying flat across it. One look at that, and you could feel your body aching for sleep after such a long morning.

Wekapipo stood in the entryway, placing a key on the nearby vanity. “This is yours. It only unlocks this room, make sure you keep it handy, as castle staff won’t be happy if they have to frequently do it for you.”

“Right,” you mumbled, clearing your throat when you noticed how soft your voice was, “do I just…” you awkwardly waved your arms around, gesturing randomly, unsure of what you were even asking.

That urged a chuckle out from the usually steely Wekapipo, who folded his arms across his armored chest and shrugged. “Just make yourself comfortable. Relax. It’s still early in the day, perhaps a nap would be wise.”

That, you could agree with. You backed up, letting your thighs hit the mattress before finally sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking a deep breath. Permission to relax was something you’d been unknowingly waiting for all morning.

Wekapipo’s final instruction came after he pointed to the closet. “In there you’ll find several fresh sets of clothing, which is why we previously took your measurements. Later this evening I’ll be showing you your official armor, which you’ll need to wear for the ceremony tonight.”

“Ceremony?” You lifted an eyebrow, unaware of the way your hands were running longingly against the softness of the bedsheets.

“Of course.” Your mentor gave you a look that made you want to hide under the bed. “A newly appointed knight must be knighted. Sir Brando has arranged for that to take place tonight, in the courtyard, followed by dinner.”

Suddenly the lengths your body had taken to relax all unraveled, leaving you nervous all over again. It felt obvious, seeing as Her Highness Steel had held a similar event just two months ago, however you’d intentionally skipped out on watching the entire thing. Perhaps it would’ve been wise to watch, just to see what it was like.

“Royalty from the other kingdoms will be here for the duration, so it’s best that you get proper rest beforehand so as not to embarrass the Prince.” You hoped that was mostly a joke or a teasing jab, but Wekapipo looked as serious as death. “I’ll leave you alone now, but you’ll need to be ready before sundown.”

Was it too late to back out of this entire thing? No, that was just the nerves talking. You wanted this, bad, and it was the best thing that could’ve happened to you. Many people fought for opportunities like this, and to be within the walls of this massive castle was enough of a win that you could easily get through such a large event later this evening… right?

“Thank you, Sir Wekapipo,” you finally replied as he began to slip out the door, “for everything.”

Your mentor offered a silent nod, and only when the door firmly shut did you allow yourself to collapse back against the bed and shut your eyes.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

As promised, you were woken hours later by a series of knocks on your door. With slight shame over the fact you’d never even changed out of your clothes from this morning, you blinked against the golden orange sunlight spilling into your windows and groggily answered the door.

Wekapipo greeted you again, alongside two other men who were holding every belonging you had – which wasn’t much – from your former, much smaller, living quarters. Bags were deposited into one corner of your room, after which Wekapipo requested that you follow him for your next course of action. Making sure to slip your room key into your pocket, you followed suit as he led you further into the sea of hallways that inhibited the massive castle. You hoped that, with more experience within these walls, you’d become more accustomed to their depths and feel far less lost without his guidance.

Your next destination sat beyond the kitchens and dining hall, past a small grassy courtyard where a small group of castle guards casually trained as the sun began dipping lower into the sky. Finally, at the very end of the hall, sat an armory. Lining its walls were several sets of armor and an abundance of weapons, but Wekapipo led you past them all until you reached the far corner.

“This,” he began, gesturing towards a mass of something covered by a thick wool blanket, “is yours.” With that, he tugged the blanket off and allowed it to hit the floor, revealing a pristinely polished set of silver plated armor and chainmail.

“Wow,” you breathed, wondering if you’d ever worn anything this high quality. Even without touching it you could see that it had been built by expert hands, intricate floral-like details etched into its pauldrons and cuirass. It was almost overwhelmingly beautiful to look at.

“Let’s make sure it fits,” your mentor urged you. “You won’t be needing to wear the helm tonight, but we’ll need to be sure about the rest.”

With his guidance, you carefully slipped into each piece, both of you happy to find that they fit just fine. It was heavy, much more so than what you’d been wearing this morning, but part of this role was becoming used to wearing such a suit for long periods of time. Generally, being able to hide behind a helm was something you could take solace in, but this evening you’d be left to face God knows how many unfamiliar faces.

“Go take a look.” Once you were completely suited, Wekapipo gestured towards a mirror lining the opposite wall. He himself looked pleased by how the entire thing fit, but he clearly wanted to hear your approval as well.

You turned, getting a look at yourself in the mirror and giving your fingers each a good wiggle in the confines of the gauntlets. Each step and movement you made held a sound of power within it, making you feel much larger than you actually were. It was certainly good for your confidence, even if you were still nervous about this evening.

“Feels good,” you confirmed, patting your plackart and enjoying the sound of metal on metal, “nice and sturdy.”

“His Highness only accepts the best. Just like his mother.”

To that, you said nothing. It was the first time your mentor had made mention of the former Queen since you’d started working together. This was a topic you were curious about, had a million questions related to, but had yet to feel bold enough to ask. It was odd, wasn’t it? Diego did not seem bothered by her passing, and it almost felt like something taboo to even discuss in the castle walls.

Tucking that curiosity away for much, much later, you allowed Wekapipo to explain how the rest of the evening would unfold. Just an hour from now, when the sun had set and crowds had gathered in the castle’s main courtyard, you’d be standing at the center. While other kingdoms’ royals and local civilians watched, Diego would knight you and officially claim you as his sworn protector. After that, dinner would be served in the dining hall, where the other royalty would join and very likely be introduced to you. Wekapipo insisted it was crucial that you remember each and every one of these people, as it was dire that they be impressed by you.

“Can I ask why?” It felt a smidge disrespectful, but you were just curious. Surely the only opinion that should matter was Diego’s, right?

“I’m only relaying the Prince’s wishes.” Wekapipo reached out to gently wipe away a speck of dust on one of your pauldrons. “It would be wise to follow them without question.”

You supposed it would be foolish to argue with that.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

What remained of your free hour before the ceremony seemed to zip by without any warning. In an almost out-of-body experience, you allowed yourself to be quickly ushered out towards the courtyard, instructed to wait by its side entrance until you were announced. You could feel your palms sweating profusely underneath panels of metal as you listened to the sound of bustling crowds and excited chatter.

This was, just twelve hours earlier, where you’d taken part in the trials that ultimately got you here. Then, it had been easier because it was not just you garnering the attention of hundreds of strangers, but now it was, and without a shield protecting your visage.

A stage sat at the middle back of the courtyard, now lined with several more seats than had been there this morning. You anticipated that this would be where the other royals would be sitting alongside their knights, though you were largely unfamiliar with most of them besides Lucy and her father. You hoped your brain still had the capacity to memorize faces and names after such a long, tedious day.

“Prepare yourself,” a voice came from behind you, nearly making you topple forwards and eat a faceful of grass. When you whipped around you were face-to-face with Wekapipo again, drawing a relieved sigh out from your tight throat.

“Jesus,” you breathed, a little overwhelmed, “I think you’ve prepared me as much as possible, Sir.”

“No,” he shook his head, pointing out towards the field where a man in a tall black hat was excitedly ascending the ramp onto the stage, “I mean for him.”

Dressed in deep purple garb with a matching billowing cape, the man held a long buisine trumpet in one hand and rolled up parchment in the other, signaling to you that this must be this evening’s announcer. Because you were still fairly new to Verdigris, you hadn’t been around for any events like this, and were unfamiliar with whoever this man was and just why Wekapipo seemed to be so put off by him before he’d said anything at all.

Before you could say anything or ask your mentor any other questions, the man with a mass of curly black hair sticking out from under the brim of his hat loudly blew into the trumpet, quickly silencing the crowd until you could probably hear a pin drop.

“Good evening, Verdigris!” The man continued into the trumpet, allowing each segment he spoke to echo through the area before continuing in his nasally voice. “Before the ceremony begins,” he paused, gesturing towards the courtyard entrance opposite of where you stood, “allow me, Magenta Magenta, to introduce our distinguished guests!”

On cue, a group of four emerged from the other entrance, quickly obvious to you even before Magenta continued.

“From the kingdom of Fallow, His Majesty Steven Steel!” The man in question, dressed head to toe in expensive pea green silk, waved to the crowd with a smile that only grew once his daughter was announced. “Her Highness Lucy Steel!” Just behind her father, Lucy mirrored his waving all while her arm was looped around her knight’s. Her protector was stoic, looking sternly at the crowd from under bluntly cut maroon bangs. Another knight in matching armor, slighter taller with sandy blonde hair, strode next to Steven, looking vigilantly at the surrounding area.

You were surprised you weren’t as heartbroken upon seeing Lucy with her newly appointed knight, seeing as that was where you had hoped to be. Maybe it was because the Princess looked so happy, so safe, that you felt your heart warm for her instead. It was clear, judging by body language alone, that the two were getting along incredibly well anyway, and that was what the Princess deserved.

As the group of four took their seats on the stage, Magenta continued his announcements, and a group of three emerged from the same entrance.

“From the kingdom of Watchet, His Majesty Nicholas Joestar!” Following suit, a young man in comparably modest attire stepped foot into the courtyard, oddly unaccompanied by any knight at all. If he hadn’t been announced as royalty, you’d have assumed he wasn’t, based on appearance alone. “His Highness Johnny Joestar!” Closely behind, a man wearing pastel blue and pink was guided into the courtyard via an ornate armchair with wheels by who you assumed was his knight, a tall man with a blinding smile and long brown hair tied up into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck.

Cheers erupted throughout the crowd as every royal settled themselves in their seats on stage and continued waving in greeting. Their knights, however, stayed relatively still, maintaining watchful eyes and clearly taking their duties seriously despite the fun energy of this evening.

“Finally, the kingdom of Albescent – ” Magenta started, holding up an arm as if to tease before ultimately dropping it and shrugging. “Declined our invitation!” He allowed the subsequent boo’s to fill the courtyard as he nodded solemnly. Even if his voice was a little annoying, he was, at the very least, entertaining. You turned to look at Wekapipo again and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s grating. Trust me,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again, “live long enough in this castle and you’ll figure that out.”

A peek of personality from your mentor was enough to make you chuckle for a moment, forgetting that you were about to have all eyes on you.

“Okay, okay, enough!” Magenta attempted to calm the crowd, waving wildly at them until they finally quieted down again. “Worry not, because the star of the show is next!”

The quiet only lasted a second longer before the crowd understood who was next. Staring across the field, you noticed Diego standing in the opposite entryway, somehow dressed even more extravagantly than before. Even from this distance, you could sense that his attention was solely on you, and that made the nerves reappear instantly.

“Without further ado!” Magenta’s dramatic movements continued as he whipped his body around to gesture towards the man of the hour. “His Highness Diego Brando!”

If the cheers before had been loud, then this was damn near explosive. It occurred to you how strange it was that a large mass of people who would gossip and speak ill of a man would also turn around and cheer his name loudly when seeing him in person. Either way, Diego appeared to gobble it up like a hungered man. He strode across the field in soft teal and gold, his pristinely cream-colored sleeves billowing in the breeze as he held a corner of his matching cape in one gloved hand. The other waved at his people, albeit his gestures seemed to be less in greeting and much more showmanlike. A toothy grin stayed plastered across his face, but every time his eyes seemed to flick over towards you, you could sense they did not match that apparent joy.

As Diego continued his waltz across the field, you moved your attention to the stage, where the rest of the royals respectfully clapped. Everyone, you noted, besides Johnny Joestar, who only did so once his brother elbowed him in the arm and gave him an insistent look. Even then, the man’s clapping was subdued, his heart clearly not in it. Interesting.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the cheers began to die down and Diego headed for the stage’s ramp. Magenta nearly tripped over his own cape as he ran over to grasp the Prince’s hand, offering him help that he clearly did not need. Diego, however, allowed this to happen even as Magenta lifted his hand to his mouth and gave the back of it a kiss. Brief laughter came from a few audience members, and even Lucy appeared particularly amused by this dramatic act of affection.

“Isn’t he luminous?” Magenta called into the trumpet, watching as Diego took his spot on the largest seat at the center of the stage. “Shame we can’t just watch him walk around all evening.”

To that, there were only a few scattered and awkward laughs, as the joke had clearly been over several seconds ago. Even Diego seemed to roll his eyes a little, waving his hand in the air as if to say ‘get on with it’.

“Now!” Magenta reluctantly continued, facing the crowd again. “Please enjoy a brief interlude from the castle troubadours!”

A group of musicians piled in from the other end, leaving you a few minutes to destress again before ultimately having to step foot outside.

“I told him to cut that out,” Wekapipo grumbled, leaning against the brick wall with his arms crossed. “His Highness can’t stand it.”

“What? The kiss?” You asked, allowing a laugh to spill out.

“He’s infatuated, despite Sir Brando telling him he’s not interested.”

“Seems mostly harmless.” You shrugged, not knowing why you were defending a man you knew nothing about.

“Dozens of love letters and poems say otherwise,” Wekapipo muttered, and that was the end of that conversation.

As the musical act wrapped up their performance, they took a bow and exited where they’d come in. The crowd cheered, though notably not nearly as loud as they had when Diego had been announced, and then waited for what they knew would come next.

“And now!” Magenta announced, waving his arm in Diego’s direction. “The Prince has an announcement,” he paused, finally unfurling the rolled up paper and letting it hang in front of him, “...which I will be reading!”

Diego stood up from his seat, looking in your direction and nodding. Before you could wrongfully assume he was beckoning you forward, Wekapipo instead stepped foot into the field and made his way towards the Prince.

“This morning, a series of trials was put on for twenty young adults, desperate to stand at the Prince’s side and protect him with their lives!” Magenta’s voice filled the space as Wekapipo bowed his head to Diego and reached for the sword holstered at his side. “Tonight, twenty has dwindled to one, and His Highness has chosen a sworn protector!” Wekapipo handed the sword to Diego, who gently took it in his hand and kept a watchful eye in your direction. “Are you ready to meet them?!”

Your gut was twisted up into a thousand knots as you heard the resounding praise from the crowd. It was a lot, too much, but it was just one evening, You could handle this attention for one night. Just as you closed your eyes to ground yourself, Magenta loudly called your name and beckoned you forward, excitedly jumping up and down in place as you walked forward on stiff legs. You did not look at the crowd, chose to fix your eyes only on Diego. If you’d had a choice, you’d have preferred to look only at Wekapipo, but you knew your mentor would scold you for not looking at the man you were about to be sworn to for the rest of your life.

Once you were in front of him, you quickly dropped to your knees and stared up at your Prince. This was the closest you’d been to him yet, even closer than earlier today, and you couldn't help but be overcome by his beauty. The way his golden hair whipped gently in the breeze as he extended the sword out towards you had your breath caught in your throat all over again.

Everything in your ears was muddied together, overwritten by the pounding of your heart as Diego laid the flat end of the blade carefully against your left shoulder, then slowly over to your right. Once this was done, his words became clearer in your mind as soon as he spoke your name.

“Arise, for you are now a knight of the kingdom of Verdigris.”

With that, the crowd erupted again and you slowly got to your feet, trying not to let anyone see how overwhelmed you felt. Wekapipo retrieved his sword, and Diego’s hand grasped your plated forearm, instructing you to sit in one of the previously unclaimed seats on either side of him. Once Wekapipo took the other, Magenta’s announcements continued as he explained that another musical number would be performed.

So that was it. As you fought to catch your breath and tried to sit in a way that made you look more confident than you felt, a hand clapped against your shoulder and you nearly jumped out of your seat. When you turned around to look, you found the blonde knight accompanying the Steels smiling warmly and offering a ‘congratulations’. Not knowing how to react, and frankly still feeling like you were completely out of your body, you nodded in thanks and turned forward in your seat again.

As the troubadours took the field, Diego directed his attention to Wekapipo, sitting to his right. “How many more acts?”

“Just two, Sir,” the man replied, to which Diego sighed.

“Gonna be a long night,” he mumbled to no one in particular, but you certainly caught it.

You did not chance turning to fully face him, but from the corners of your eyes you studied Diego’s body language, wondering why he seemed so uncomfortable. Almost as if he wanted to go straight to his room and forgo the rest of the evening.

What had your mentor said? The details of Diego’s personality and character were not important, and if anything only detrimental to your sense of duty. You needed to remember that, but it was difficult. Diego was compelling, a puzzle you desperately wanted to figure out the longer you spent time around him. Was that dangerous? Was this partnership doomed from the start?

Your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you’d have yet to eat since early this morning. Now you weren’t sure if you were dreading dinner or desperate for it. You just hoped the rest of this evening wouldn’t be too exhausting.

a/n: the fic title comes from a lyric in "anti-superstar" by haute & freddy, which is a group whose sound and general vibe really encompasses the world i've built for this au. it's still being built, im piecing it together as i go (with a lot of help from my bestie dion) but i hope you'll all be able to enjoy it regardless! please let me know what you think!! credits for the dividers go to @/strangergraphics 🧡

[catneychu]

A wip but Holly would have loved Caesar

[che-rrys-stuff]

Some Johnny ft. Gyjo sketches I need to lock in for and finish...!!

[makesense2nobody]

I always liked to look of Lalaloopsy dolls but I could never get one. Also ignore the fact that Gyro is lowkey taller than the fucking horses