i'm seeing people draw kiki & kaka with all kinds of different skin colors, so i thought i might make reference images with hex codes.

(kui herself is inconsistent with how she draws them, often giving them lighter skin or warmer undertones, but i'm going to consider their appearance in the adventurer's bible their definitive look.)

Title: Two-Player

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders

Pairing(s): JotaKak, JoKa, Minor (and Platonic) Kakyoin & kid!Jolyne

Summary: There are days when Jotaro’s body remembers every single injury that it's ever received. Days when he aches from his toes to the top of his skull, and days when his nerves light themselves on fire. Medication won’t touch it, and the pain is either too grating or too unpredictable for him to ignore for any length of time.

He tries to break it down into pieces. To compartmentalize it all away the way he does with the memories.

Notes: I was having a chronic pain flare, asked my wife who I should inflict it on, and her answer was, "Jotaro and/or Dick Grayson". So here's the Jotaro version. Btw, I'm doing a writing / fic giveaway! Check out this post to see how to enter. Goes until 8.25.21!

-

There are days when Jotaro’s body remembers every single injury that it's ever received. Days when he aches from his toes to the top of his skull, and days when his nerves light themselves on fire. Medication won’t touch it, and the pain is either too grating or too unpredictable for him to ignore for any length of time.

He tries to break it down into pieces. To compartmentalize it all away the way he does with the memories. It’s all he can do in moments like these, when he’s hunched forward and breathing too heavy. Biting at his lip in a desperate attempt to keep from making a sound, lest Kakyoin or Jolyne choose that exact moment to barge in.

There’s the throbbing in his ankles and knees; both of which twinge with an excruciatingly sharp agony whenever he tries to stand from his desk. If he falters in the slightest, he’ll have his hips to contend with, and they’ll bring him to his knees for daring to exist. Best to stay put until he can no longer take the stillness that builds in the damaged joints, not that walking seems to alleviate the radiating pounding that blossoms in each joint and spreads endlessly outward. The more he thinks about it, the wider the radius grows, the harder it is to control his breathing.

Speaking of, his ribs burn from inflammation, and every breath is like inhaling fire, deeper and deeper until he’s choking on the exhale. The coughing that follows makes his guts twist up. Knotting around an invisible blade and splitting apart until he smells more than tastes the scent of blood and bile rising in the back of his throat.

The pain running through his nerves is a mixture of fire blight and an intense, piercing sensation that he’s yet to fully find the words for. There’s a reverberating ache to each stab. A constant and endless reminder that makes it impossible for him to sooth with the fingers he digs into the meat of his arms and legs. He can only stand to do that for so long, anyway. His wrists cramp after a few seconds. Already fatigued from writing. Working always makes the tendons tighten until they feel like they’re going to snap.

For whatever reason, his head feels the need to join in on the fun. Possibly because he’s already tense everywhere else. Possibly because it’s just that kind of day. Either way, he can’t ignore the ache there anymore than he can anywhere else, and it’s significantly slowed down his progress for the day. He’s done little more than stare at the papers on his desk with a blank expression for what must be hours now. The words blur together so badly that the ink almost disappears from his vision, which is a welcomed relief to the burning of his eyes.

He’s so overwhelmed by it all that he doesn’t hear Kakyoin. Kakyoin who he doesn’t ever tell, because Jotaro would rather grit his teeth and force his way through the day than tell his husband, of all people, that he hurts. As if Kakyoin doesn’t know a truer, more hellish agony in his every waking moment.

“Jotaro?”

His own name being called is what finally breaks him out of his pity party, and the look on Kakyoin’s face tells Jotaro that it’s been said more than once. There’s worry etched in the crease of Kakyoin’s forehead and in the way his lips are turned downward. Kakyoin would be crouched at eye level with him if he could, but his own body is hardly partial to that sort of movement.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Jotaro grits the words out and resists the urge to wince at the sound of his own voice. He doesn’t think he’s spoken at all today, but it still somehow sounds like he’s been chewing on glass.

Kakyoin’s frown deepens, “Jolyne was asking about- actually, it’s not that important. Are you alright?” He knows the answer already, but Kakyoin is nothing if not calculating. He wants to hear Jotaro speak. Wants to hear his reply. He’s trying to gauge how bad the situation is without expecting a proper, direct answer. He knows Jotaro too well for the man to be able to lie.

“Been better,” Jotaro admits, and he knows it’s an admission of just how poorly he feels. For him to fail to write Kakyoin off means that he’s struggling beyond what he can handle.

“I see,” Kakyoin says the words tightly. He seems to roll a thought over in his mind before sighing. “I think that you should lie down for a bit. I’ll get some painkillers. When’s the last time you had any?”

“I-” Jotaro mirrors the frown on Kakyoin’s face as he glances at the clock. Too long, he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to.

“Chasing pain won’t get you anywhere,” Kakyoin says, but his tone is far from patronizing. He speaks from experience. It’s better to try to stay in front of the brunt of their agony. They don’t stand much of a chance otherwise, not that Jotaro thought he’d had one since the moment he woke up that morning.

“Jolyne-” He starts, as a last ditch effort to get out of being mothered by his own husband, but he’s not surprised when Kakyoin shrugs him off.

“I’ll take care of Jolyne.” Kakyoin pauses, “And I can draw you a bath, if you’d like. The heat might help.” He would know, given his own chronic pain. He can’t take hot baths, given the sensitive nature of the reconstructed bits that make up his midsection, but he regularly soaks individual limbs when nothing else is working.

“I- yeah, okay,” Jotaro has to admit that the idea sounds nice. Maybe submerging the deep aches will help sooth them away, if only a little bit. Perhaps enough to make lying down more bearable, because that’s his problem with the idea of getting into bed: it’s going to hurt. He’ll hurt here or there, which is why he continues to insist on sitting at his desk on days like this. What’s the point in wasting time if he’s going to be miserable no matter where he is, or what he does? He might as well at least try to be productive.

“Good,” Kakyoin smiles gently, “Give me about five minutes before you come up? I’ll get that started and take care of Jolyne.”

“Sounds like a deal,” it doesn’t, actually. Kakyoin’s getting the short end of the stick all the way around. What with having to take care of Jotaro and Jolyne while dealing with his own pain.

“And quit that,” Kakyoin grumbles. He pokes Jotaro between the eyes, right on the bridge of his nose. “I married you, Jotaro. I don’t mind taking care of you or Jolyne, and I'm not inept for being a borderline cyborg.”

“I know,” Jotaro says with a sigh, “I don’t- I didn’t mean-” He hadn’t said anything, but that’s the problem with Kakyoin: he’s intuitive in a way that no one else Jotaro knows has ever been, and he can practically read Jotaro’s mind when he chooses.

“I know,” Kakyoin echoes, cutting Jotaro off before he can dig himself any deeper. His smile returns, and he leans down enough to press a kiss to the top of Jotaro’s forehead, only a short distance above where he had touched Jotaro a moment before. “Sometimes I just think you need a reminder. We’re equal, and you can have chronic pain, too.”

“Sounds fake,” Jotaro mumbles, but there’s a faint, upward pull of his lips that has Kakyoin barking out a laugh.

“Sure it does. Five minutes, JoJo.”

“Five minutes,” Jotaro repeats, already planning on it taking about that long just to get himself to the door to his study. His joints are already threatening to drop him if he so much as thinks about moving too quickly.

He watches Kakyoin go with fond eyes, and it takes approximately sixty seconds before he realizes that there had been a moment of relief. Where his brain had been too busy to be solely wrapped in his own suffering. Perhaps he’ll suggest that they all turn in early. There’s a new Disney movie that Jolyne’s been dying to see, and he knows she won’t mind being still too terribly if she gets to have the two of them in one room, sans work.

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, First Impressions, Slice of Life, Character Study

No additional content warnings apply. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Kirishima Eijirou had stared at the grin on Bakugou’s face when he pulled the pin in his gauntlet and thought: Holy shit, this guy is insane.

Over multiple screens, a good chunk of Ground β went up in a blast so strong the floor trembled with its aftershocks even here, miles away. Concrete and steel and glass were incinerated in a gust of fire and debris until all that was left was Midoriya’s crumpled form amidst plumes of smoke and Bakugou standing tall in the ruins.

The cameras shorted out once, twice before the image stabilized; the transmission remained silent. There was no sound needed to see how Bakugou’s grin got an edge sharper in the wake of the explosion.

Insane and absolutely deadly.

It wasn’t Kirishima’s first impression of him, per se. Certainly he’d had some sort of reaction to the only name ranked above his own after the Entrance Exams and the total sum of zero rescue points listed beside it. He can even remember the twinge of something in his chest after seeing that infamous quirk in action on day one – be it awe or envy or plain curiosity, that innocent question of How does it work, though? that accompanies most encounters with a new power.

Still: In those first few days, when Kirishima thinks of Bakugou Katsuki, he thinks of the mad glint in his eyes as he went above and beyond in his attempt to murder their classmate (or seriously maim him, at the very least).

In hindsight, having him play the villain was perhaps less coincidence and more fate, given the optics of what could reasonably be described as a shitshow. And, okay, Kirishima knows it’s not exactly fair to judge someone based solely on fleeting observations. His parents taught him better than that. Crimson Riot showed him better than that. It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.

Endure and overcome, just like any other obstacle looming over the difficult path ahead. Kirishima smiles around the pencil he’s chewing on as Aizawa drones on, eyes trained on the uniquely tense set of shoulders across the room.

Yeah. Bakugou won’t even stand a chance.

*

It takes many cold shoulders, rebuffed lunch invitations and countless glares – and a villainous intervention Kirishima could’ve honestly lived without – for a rough voice to say:

“You there. Shark Teeth.”

The sun is starting to peek into the room as it hangs low and lazy in the sky. Class 1-A has just been released into a well-deserved weekend: Kirishima is very much aware his mothers want him home as fast as possible after what happened at U.S.J., and he’s throwing his things into his bag at peak velocity. Only after a tap on his shoulder and a subtle nod from Sero does he register it’s him Bakugou is talking to.

Perhaps ‘growling at’ would be a better description, but… semantics. Kirishima throws the guy a look and a smile over his shoulder either way, “Hey! What’s up, man?”, and given Bakugou’s eyes only narrow a little, he’s about 70% sure he’s not done something to land on his shit list.

Yet.

All Bakugou does is direct a decidedly less neutral look towards Sero, who jolts and stumbles over a quick “Um. Gotta– Yup, okay, bye!” before he books it out the classroom. Kirishima watches him go with some bemusement and a muttered “Dude”, not that Bakugou reacts to it in any way.

“Spar with me”, Bakugou says instead – demands, really – and Kirishima feels his brows tick upwards before he can stop himself, hands pausing in his quest to cram his notepad next to his books without wrinkling its cover page too badly.

“Uh. Like, right now? ‘Cause I can’t. Well, I could but I’m about to miss my train as is and I’d have to tell my–”

A slow blink, and even that is threatening when it’s coming from Bakugou. “No, asshole. This weekend, or something. I don’t care.”

Oh. Kirishima blinks. Something about Bakugou approaching him out of his own free will must be causing a substantial lag between different areas of his brain because– Oh.

“Wait. You wanna hang out?”

Maybe he could’ve hidden the clear surprise in his voice a bit better, that emphasis on you that sort of slipped in there without him really wanting it to. Kirishima’s heart sinks at the twitch to Bakugou’s brow that pretty much guarantees whatever he actually meant to say is forever lost to the ire perpetually simmering in that red gaze.

Well, it was nice knowing what going to U.A. is like. At least none of his classmates are present to see Kirishima’s inevitable – if incredibly untimely – demise.

Then Bakugou… rolls his eyes, exhales a harsh tch for good measure. “Whatever.” He shoves his bag further up his shoulder and, without a glance back, walks out the room–

Oh no, you don’t.

Out of all foolish thoughts it’s that one that shoots through Kirishima’s head before he grabs his stuff and goes after him. Bakugou somehow manages to maintain that no-fucks-given air to his gait despite how fast he walks, and Kirishima falls into a light jog to close the gap.

“It’s a great idea, man. Can’t have us going soft over the weekend! Plus Ultra, just like All Might said, right?”

Bakugou gives him a withering glance of a side-eye for his trouble. Kirishima notes the distinct lack of explode-y manslaughter, though, and allows himself to settle right into Bakugou’s pace.

“Besides, it’s been like a week and we’re already having villains crashing our lessons. I mean, we showed ‘em what’s what and all, but still! Some extra training can’t hurt.”

It’s not like Kirishima minds being the one to carry a conversation yet the fact that he hasn’t been told to shut up is… something? Not enough for Kirishima to point out, it’s just a thing he notices, just something, so he keeps talking. Past U.A.’s gates, down the stairs and onto the busy sidewalk they go, and Bakugou’s hands never leave the pockets of his pants as he marches past clusters of people in an unflinching line.

Head held high, eyes dead ahead. Cutting through the crowd with his presence alone, and in his wake Kirishima follows.

The afternoon light is hitting that glow-y hue that paints even the most mundane of things in shades of gold when Kirishima realizes they’re headed to the train station. He draws up short, slows his step in the split-second it takes to ask himself if the other even takes the train home or–

Bakugou’s eyes are on him, “What?”, that one word barked so impatiently Kirishima throws the thought right out the metaphorical window and keeps walking.

“Nothing!” A flash of his home screen proves: Five minutes left. They’re making good time. Which, actually– “So what time were you thinking for our sparring sesh? I’m good whenever, unless it’s super late at night. Overprotective parents, you know how it is.”

That gets a huff out of Bakugou. That, and a gesture that’s sort of a grab, sort of a wave that has Kirishima a little stumped until Bakugou sighs gruffly. “Your phone, dumbass.”

“Oh, sure! Here.”

The device changes hands. Kirishima contemplates feeling embarrassed about the obvious crack that takes up half the screen; he’d designed his hero costume without his delicate tech in mind, and with the whirlwind of starting and then surviving week one of the new school year, he hasn’t been able to spare a minute to get neither the phone fixed nor the costume amended.

Bakugou doesn’t comment on it – in fact, he pulls his sleeve down to hold the thing as if to cushion it, and when he taps the screen it’s with his knuckles. Before Kirishima can ask, the pre-installed voice control AI chirps its distinct jingle and Bakugou tells it to make a new contact, rattling off a long string of numbers.

Even before the AI has confirmed the input, Kirishima is catching the phone chucked rather carelessly at his head. “There”, Bakugou says, starting to climb the stairs to the tracks two steps at a time.

Kirishima doesn’t have much time to process any of that before the telltale rattling of an incoming train sounds above them. “Oh shit”, he breathes, hurrying onto the platform and to the closest door just in time to see the last passenger get out. Once inside, he pumps his fist.

“Hell yeah! Dude, we–”

The person next to him, who is not Bakugou, looks rather startled. What the…? Kirishima turns a full 360 degrees before a knock just inches from his face startles him and he meets Bakugou’s smirk, firmly on the other side of the window.

Not a moment later, the train starts pulling away. Kirishima presses close to the thick, faintly scratched glass to watch Bakugou turn and walk right back where they came from. His hand is raised, the light catching white and glinting on something in his hand.

A phone. Oh, right!

Kirishima swipes across an image of Crimson Riot’s iconic pose to unlock and reads Bakugou Katsuki, having left the tab open in his haste. First things first: With a soft snort and a few swift taps, the name is changed before Kirishima hits the speech bubble icon next to it.

Baku💣💥

bro what the hell (sent 17:14)

but thanks (sent 17:14)

it’s kirishima btw (sent 17:15)

just text me the details whenever 💪🏻 (sent 17:15)

He watches the tick next to his messages turn blue almost immediately and waits. One station passes, then two. By the third Kirishima is sure he’s been left on read and laughs, shaking his head. Of course.

The rest of his way home is spent assuring Sero he has not, in fact, exited life in a flurry of explosions as well as letting his moms know he’ll be home in a few. The next time Kirishima checks his phone is between brushing his teeth and climbing into bed, two unread messages waiting for him.

Baku💣💥

[link] (received 19:35)

6AM tomorrow, don’t be fucking late (received 19:35)

The link leads to a location which his phone matches to a quirk-friendly gym pretty close to the U.A. grounds. Kirishima scrolls through a few images of the facilities with some interest before his brain registers–

6AM. On a Saturday.

Baku💣💥

/dude/ (sent 22:08)

srsly?? (sent 22:09)

😩😩 (sent 22:19)

f @ my sleep schedule but ok (sent 22:25)

Minutes later, Kirishima stares at the near-painful sight of an alarm set to 5AM before he sighs and flops face-down into his pillow. The things he does in the name of friendship.

>>Chapter 2

@doublehex replied to your post “Actual footage of aegony stans popping a bottle of champagne...”

You make it seem as if only J0nerys shippers bought into it. BryndenBFish thought it was a legit interview at first, and he was someone that has poured over most of GRRM's interviews. The way the interviewer wrote his responses were very cleaver. And it was written by no means a Jonsa shipper, because the Jonsa answer was just one small part about it. Get off your high horse and take a chill pill.

How about you get off my post and take a red pill that takes you back to reality? 

I do not make it seem like only J0nerys shippers bought into it. I specifically made fun of the specific group of people (mostly J0nerys shippers) who used this interview as “prove” to debunk Jonsa and celebrated the “death of the delusional crackship” before getting all their facts straight. Yes, while the Jonsa passage was only a small part of the interview, I made fun of the people who only cared about this “small part” and made a big deal about it. Weak reading comprehension, much? Would explain a lot of things. 

As a lot of other people, I didn’t dismiss the interview right away either, that would be just as biased as buying into it without any further questions. I thought maybe the “interviewer” had some personal connection to GRRM and he did them a solid by talking with them. I read the entire thing, while considering the problems that arise with automated translation and compared his statements with some he’s made before. I actually took my time to apply some critical thinking skills before forming a final opinion. The post was not directed at people like BryndenBFish (btw, what’s with the appeal to authority? People can’t think for themselves unless someone with supposed “higher credentials” gives them the green light to do so?) who did the same thing, who wasn’t sure about it’s legitimacy, but actually looked into it before drawing any final conclusions, but at the gullible, biased idiots who never learned to not believe everything they read on the internet. So what is your point exactly? 

Btw, I retain the right to make fun of the people who didn’t even bother to look into it before making hateful, condescending, snarky posts because there were so many things that should make everyone capable of critical thinking at least a bit sceptical: 

An exclusive interview with a high-caliber author is published on some random, unknown blog? 

Why didn’t a “professional journalist” sell that thing to some news media, actually making some profit with their supposed profession?

Why wouldn’t the author at least take one picture with grrm?  

One tiny little google session would’ve showed that this “interview” wasn’t picked up by any verified news outlet. 

Neither westeros.org, nor the asoiaf wikia picked it up either. They’re usually pretty fast with that. Most interviews show up a few hours after they were published. Maybe because the administrators have connection to grrm and his pr-team themselves and are aware of any upcoming interviews? 

The interview has no links to grrm’s blog, twitter, his official website and their was no mention of that interview on all these outlets either. 

The interview was ill-formatted and the blog itself looks rather shitty. Not a sign of professionalism. 

Why would GRRM agree to making interview that was only going to be published in Spanish? Why would GRRM agree to making an interview with such a low-profile outlet at all? 

Those were at least a couple of things that seemed fishy about the circumstances of the “release”. If that wasn’t enough to at least raise one of your eyebrows, there are couple of things about the content that an attentive reader could/should have noticed:

George is praising D&D? After politely redirecting any questions about them with neutral answers? After throwing some epic shade at them not two months ago? (Like, he has no time to watch “his own show”, but fangirls about another? Sick burn, george.)

GRRM has never outright denied any fantheories. Here he takes strong stances about Azor Ahai and Jon’s endgame romantic partner. This isn’t about me being a pressed shipper, it simply isn’t in line with his previous reactions to questions like this. Do you remember the dubious, unambiguous way he talked about S@nsan in the past? He didn’t confirm it, he didn’t completely deny it. He 

While we’re at the topic of the jonsa-passage, he contradicts himself numerous times here alone, for example: Well, in my books Jon Snow is dead ... but to find out about his possible relationship with Dany you have to keep reading. Any romantic relationship is very unlikely, because they only share a siblingy bond ... but Jon and Sansa don’t even have that. Like, what? Sounds awfully like a rehash of your usual anti-jonsa arguments, don’t you think? The creator of the whole series has no more to say than your average redditor? 

Btw, Grrm honestly reacting to a question involving his original outline? When has that ever happened?  

I remembered that Medusa interview, I don’t remember any news about it being fake. But in this interview it’s presented as fact and common knowledge?  

GRRM answers a question about Arya by talking about how she isn’t like Sansa? Sounds less like him and more like your typical reddit douchebag. 

Btw, he talks about revenge and it’s downfalls, but doesn’t bring up Lady Stoneheart? A character about whose non-inclusion in the show bugs him so much, he talks about her significance to the narrative every chance he gets? 

At one point he emphasized that Jon is dead in the books, but later doesn’t correct the “interviewer” when she calls Jon a king? How is Jon a king in the books, btw? Or would GRRM really confirm in an interview that Jon will become KITN in the books too? Seems like an obvious mix up of book and show canon to me. 

Another instance of this is him taking Cersei as an example that women can rule in Westeros, when talking about Asha. In the books, Cersei does not rule in her own right, she rules through her son. This is no correct comparison to Asha becoming queen of the Iron Islands, at least not for current book-canon. And Goerge doesn’t discuss show canon. 

Just in general, many, many answers don’t hold up to the usual intellectual level displayed in his interviews.  

He says Jon Snow isn’t a hero, that every question about right and wrong depends on which side you are own, - which sounds a lot like him - but “regarding Dany, deserving something because you're a good person doesn’t mean you will obtain it?” Biased, much? 

GRRM confirms a couple of characters as bisexual, some very surprising candidates included, but doesn’t mention those who have relationships with both men and women in canon like Ellia, or even Jon ?

George names a rather specific release date for Winds of Winter? 

Those are only a few things I remember. If I went through this glorious clusterfuck one more time, I’m sure to find more. There are so many things in this “interview” that stick out, but in the name of fairness, let’s look at some of the things that seemed convincing:

Some passages successfully copied Grrm’s way of speaking. 

Some statements were in line with grrm’s usual style of answering spoilery questions. (You have to keep reading, the show is the show and the books are  the books etc)

No one could be batshit crazy enough to seriously fake an interview with GRRM. 

Sry, if all these red flags didn’t lead you to even do a bit of investigating, if instead, your first reaction was to make petty posts about “jonsa being dead” and “grrm killing jonsa” you deserve to be made fun of. Should I give you a pat on the back for focusing solely on the few things that seemed legit, while completely dismissing everything that pointed to the opposite?

Sry not sry, but after being called “delusional” for shipping Jonsa, despite bringing up a bunch of compelling arguments, while your strongest argument against it is screaming DELUSIONAL!!!,  after being told “to seek professional help” thousands of time, I have absolutely no problem with pointing out the mass delusion that these assholes suffered from the last day. Payback’s a bitch. I actually made another post about why this whole surreal situation is so endlessly funny to me, and it has nothing to with people “who AT FIRST thought this as a legit interview”, before taking a closer look and realizing that it’s most likely forgery (like your weak argumentative shield BryndenBFish did). 

It’s because of the sheer hypocrisy and the delicious irony: 

J*nerys-stans and co were so desperate to discredit us “delusional crackshippers” that they took some random interview on some random blog with  zero credentials, something that seemed fishy to anyone who took 5 minutes to clearly think about it, but instead they just swallowed it like a bowl of dramatic rice, because they were so excited about proving that other people are “delusional” and I just can’t. This morning there were dozens of posts celebrating that the “delusional jonsa stans will finally shut up about their delusional crack ship” and now they’re the ones whining about being called delusional and how unfair and inappropriate that is and, fuck, payback’s a bitch. Like, you gotta appreciate the fucking irony of the situation.

Never forget the blessed Halloween of 2k17 when antis got a taste of their own medicine. The dramatic rice remember.

Now pop in the blue pill and go back to the matrix where jonsa-shippers are the “delusional” ones, who only see what they want to see”. That’s the only place where you people can still pretend that jonsa-shippers are the ones who lack critical thinking skills. I’ll be enjoying the view from my high horse, thank you. 

Actual footage of you, thinking you can get one over me with that weak ass comment.

Refs and Info for my Anti. Top right picture was made for me by Chenaniaharticles on DA. The reddish lines on his arms are scars. The top left picture is his alternate outfit and the picture was made for me by EvinaRain on DA. Bottom right picture is a ref for the gages he wears with his alternate outfit. Bottom left picture is a more detailed drawing of the choker that is shown in the alternate outfit picture, the symbol on it is the Japanese kanji for demon, Dark gave the choker to him as a gift. I drew the bottom pictures. His bracelets don’t actually glow btw.

Info:

Anti was apart of Jack from day one. But he was originally dormant, not having a purpose and thus wasn’t fully formed. Not untill the fateful day when Jack got that bad cut over his eye and it got infected. Anti finally started to form properly after that, becoming a sort of safety net. His purpose was to take the brunt of injuries and negative emotions, essentially a protective shield, making it seem like Jack wasn’t as badly injured as he actually had been. That first incident is what caused his left eye to be green, he took the worst of the infection and the damage has caused his power to leak out of that eye, making it perpetually green. Over time he developed a mind of his own, and naturally he wanted a chance at being apart of the world at least a little. Jack however was afraid of this entity inside his head and kept him locked away. Anti, being trapped in a mind that didn’t want him and being forced to take on the worst of Jack’s injuries and emotions, grew depressed. He felt broken, like an incomplete being whose sole purpose was to be hurt. That is, till Youtube started. When fans took some of the creepy stuff Jack did for fun and gave it a persona, he saw an opportunity to finally be something more. Previously without a name, he took on the name of the character the fans had created and started molding himself after their ideas. They gave him purpose, and the attention he so desperately desired after Jack had ignored him for all those years. He drew strength from them, finally starting to break from the chains that kept him trapped. And in October of 2016 he started his campaign to show Jack that he should never have locked him away. And he had the perfect plan on how to end with a bang. He had taken the worst of Jack’s injuries for years, so for once, he would harm Jack. Unfortunately for him though he still ended up taking on most of the injury, Jack ending up only having irritated looking red marks on his neck. While Anti got a deep scar that sometimes reopens when using his powers. However, he still got the desired affect. Fans noticed him more than ever and Jack finally understood that what he had done was wrong, agreeing to let him out now and then, sometimes for the fans, as long as he never tried to hurt themselves again. Anti has altered his appearance to fit some of the more popular fan creations. The spiked up, dark green hair a few have, the fangs a few have, the paler skin a lot have, eyes that change between the various versions though they are naturally one blue and one green that both glow green when using his powers, shadows under his eyes, slightly pointed ears, various gages though he uses the small black ones the most, and then two recent additions. After the throat cutting incident he wanted something to cover up the scar when he isn’t in videos. He took inspiration from some fanart for a fan contest Jack had liked on Tumblr and started wearing a black remote activated shock collar and also took a liking to the character’s green and black hoodie, though he wears a long sleeved one with a green and black septiceye along the right sleeve. The collar was originally only to hide the scar but, after curiosity made him want to know what getting shocked feels like, he now wears it for fun as well. He likes the rush of adrenaline he gets from being shocked, plus it kinda just feels cool. Nothing sexual though. Due to taking the worst of Jack’s injuries, Anti has multiple scars along his torso and his arms and legs. Only a few are bad enough to be visible to the naked eye though. Most are extremely faded and only visible under certain lighting. He still likes to cause trouble for Jack, but it’s not meant to be malicious and is all in good fun. He just likes messing around and playing pranks. He is practically a child in certain ways since being trapped for so long didn’t exactly allow him to develop normally. His personality is pretty similar Jack’s, perhaps amped up slightly. Unlike Jack however he has confidence issues and mild depression, though he is very good at hiding it. He’s actually quite modest as well, for example, he’s a fairly good singer but would deny it if anyone said so. He shares Jack’s passion for drumming but is also quite good with electric guitar. He gets quite flustered about sexual stuff, especially when it’s directed towards him. Though he strangely doesn’t mind teasing others in a sexual manner. He carries a lot of guilt about what happened in Say Goodbye, and does his best to make up for it. He loves doing cameo’s in Jack’s videos, always getting excited by the fan theories. He absolutely adores anything mint flavored, especially if it has dark chocolate. He likes just about any kind of rock music, including metal. He really likes soft stuff. So if he finds anything soft he can end up stroking whatever it is for a good while. Something about it calms him. Jack actually found him snuggling with a giant Sam plushie once. Kinda likes my Dark but is unsure what to do about his feelings. Especially since he hasn’t been interested in guys before. Not to mention he doesn’t want to weird Jack out since they share a body and Jack is straight. Likes the smell of a wood fire and spiced cider. basically any scent that can be associated with being warm and cozy such as cinnamon and pumpkin spice. Loves the rain, especially thunderstorms. He likes seeing the lightning flash, hear the rumble of thunder and the sound of rain on the roof and windows. And he really likes the feel of the cold water washing over him, he finds it refreshing.

Powers:

Floating. Speaks for itself, sometimes uses this ability to essentially walk on walls and the ceiling (( indoor walls, buildings go too high )). When not walking on walls or ceilings he floats up to 7 feet off the ground at most. He can’t go much higher than that though, otherwise it would be considered flying.

Can make himself look like Jack. Typical power for an Antituber.

Glitches. He can make electronics glitch out and his body will look glitchy sometimes. He can also teleport with his glitching but only by a couple yards at most. Hence how he was able to suddenly appear and then disappear during the Say Goodbye video. He can also use his glitching to elicit pretty unique sounds electric musical instruments as well as just about anything electrical, hence the odd screeching noises and stuff that are sometimes heard when he’s in a video.

Healing. Any injuries he gets heal rather fast, though scars are left if the injury is bad enough. This ability kinda leaks out onto Jack as well, but not enough to raise suspicion. 

Fast. He’s pretty speedy and agile, might not technically be a power though since he’s only a short ways past the scale of how fast and agile a human can be. Just enough that you know he’s not human but nothing like the Flash. The best comparison i can think of would be a cat. He’s as fast and agile as a cat.

Screaming. He has this loud scream that leaves people disoriented. He doesn’t really have control of it though, it’s more of a defense mechanism that kicks in when he’s scared or in danger.

The Sight. If Anti is looking at a person or creature with just his green eye and they have an alternate and/or ‘true’ form, he is able to see it due to some of his power leaking through that eye. This is probably the only power my Anti has that no other Anti has had. He has to be careful however, if he looks at a really powerful creature’s alternate form for too long a black liquid will start to leak from his eye and he’ll become dizzy and potentially faint. Due to this ability Dark called Anti a ‘Seer’ which are people who have the ability to see things normal people cannot. If this Anti were to ever meet with other Anti’s I imagine Seer would be his nickname.

The last ability he has is that he is able to temporarily separate from Jack for a few hours, creating a body out of particles in the air that go back to their original state once he returns to Jack’s mind. He can only stay out for a few hours because he is a piece of Jack’s soul and being separated too long will make him ill and can even kill him.

Felt like talking about my Anti. I’ll probably do the same for my Dark soon.

@ego-protection-squad @magic-marvin-protection-patrol @chase-brody-protection-squad thought you guys might be interested in seeing this

Call me predictable, but here we go: 'The cold light of a winter morning lay on the floor of the entry hall like spilled pearls. [...] „Okay, what d‘ya wanna know?“' from 'Lift you up'

This is gonna get super lengthy, folks, sorry for that.If you are in no way interested in reading anything about my overwatch fanfiction and my related babble, I advise you to scroll past this and forget you ever encountered this post at all.

Here goes nothing, Marik.(btw this is all about this post, basically: http://duesternis.tumblr.com/post/167812715352/rageprufrock-lets-go )

The most important thing i have to say about this whole fic and all its related parts is that it was never supposed to be anything this long.But, as usual, it sprouted on its own, growing tendrils of ideas and scenes whenever I turned my mind remotely into its direction.And who am I to deny myself (and you, by extension) the joy of fluffy, sappy men falling hopelessly in love to the backdrop of some organized-crime-drama?

And this is basically just that.The whole scene serves as yet another reminder that Jesse is falling head over heels for a man he barely knows and Hanzo likewise.Maybe even worse.

I’ll deal with this in small parts.

The cold light of a winter morning lay on the floor of the entry hall like spilled pearls. The house was quiet around them and for a moment there was a semblance of home between two breaths.McCree smiled lazily at him and Hanzo smiled back, eyes slipping to his favourite shape in the world.A door down the right hallway opened and Hanzo gave McCree‘s shoulder a squeeze, turned around and walked up the stairs. Turned at the top and looked at McCree.Who stood at the foot of the stairs, eyes huge and mouth open in a disbelieving smile.His cheeks were flushed.

The most noticeable thing about the whole scene with the stairs is the first sentence, for me. Maybe the first two.I could have ended the scene there, or cut it short and just beam them to Hanzo’s office. Because those two sentences say it all.The spilled pearls could be the unexpected beauty and worth Hanzo and Jesse see in each other.The light is just that. Light. But you may recall the fact that Jesse’s Santa Fe hideout had small windows. Not much light.Hanzo isn’t one to rise early. Morning light isn’t something he sees often.The house is quiet. They are, for a moment, alone in the world. Something else they are strangely unused to. They are often alone, but have never been comfortable being alone with a stranger.Then the “semblance of home between two breaths”. Sounded fancy. I liked it.And don’t we all know that distinct feeling of warmth blooming in our chests, between two breaths, when we just know that the person across from us is all we need right now?Yeah. Like that.

The rest of that bit is just Jesse being a huge dork, thinking that Hanzo looks so fucking gorgeous (like always) and Hanzo being awestruck and trying to hide it behind his stoic facade (nerd).

Hanzo jerked his chin at him and with a laugh McCree took the stairs two at a time. His long legs powerful, his spurs jingling happily.„Come with me.“„Right behind ya, darlin‘.“„When you keep saying that, it will lose its meaning, McCree.“ Hanzo grinned to himself and unlocked the door to his personal office. McCree chuckled behind him.The door swung inward and he stepped inside.McCree followed him.„Close the door.“ He did as asked and leaned against the wood. Lit a cigarillo. The room went out over the garden, a white pane of snow where green grass sprouted in summer.

Can spurs jingle happily?????More important: Jesse’s amazing legs and Hanzo’s snark. Secret grins and inviting people into very personal spaces (in this case personal office where important decisions are made).

DO I SMELL TRUST COMING OFF OF YOU HANZO SHIMADA??? (yes i do. it smells like cigarillos)

Jesse is getting nervous here, smoking to soothe his nerves. The white of the snow unnerves him as much as he finds it beautiful.It’s not something he is used to, something foreign to him, to see something so pure undisturbed.He may be afraid of tainting it.(The snow could be a metaphor i think. But I don’t know for what. I didn’t think much when writing the sentence. I just wanted to tell that the office is at the garden-side of the house and make it sound pretty at the same time. the aestheticTM stirkes again.)

Hanzo sat down at his low desk and pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket.There was a sharp intake of breath from the door and he looked at McCree with an inquiring expression.„Golly gee, Hanzo.“ It came out flatly, powerless.„What is it?“ He frowned and McCree made a weak step forward. The cigarillo in his hand fumed faintly.„Ya look…“Hanzo put a hand to his glasses. „These?“A timid nod, a flush rising in McCree‘s cheeks. It was adorable. Hanzo smiled.„I need them for extensive reading. Since I was a boy.“A breathless laugh and McCree dropped to the floor on the other side of the desk. Barely on the pillow.Hanzo pulled a notebook out of a drawer and unscrewed the top of his fountain pen.McCree emptied his small bowl of paper clips and tapped ash into it.Hanzo raised a brow at that. „You‘ll clean that up later.“„Yessir.“ McCree grinned, face still flushed, and saluted sharply. „So.“„Yes?“

MEGANE HANZO. probably the only reason i wrote this was the mental image of sexy hanzo with reading glasses, looking over them at people, all pissed.and flustered jesse is cute.School-boy wringing his hands at the desk of his favourite teacher, acutely aware of the fact that he’s in over his head.Or sth like that…

Also imagine Jesse dropping on his ass b/c Hanzo’s too hot. *evil laughter*Hanzo’s mildly concerned for Jesse’s well-being, but thinks it’s cute too.

And I wanted Hanzo to be untrusting of modern media regarding important information. That’s why he’s using a notebook and a fountain pen. Something fancy. (My dad collects fancy fountain pens. They’re really pretty.)

And how devastatingly impractical is a low working desk? It needs quite a bit of talent to look down on people from your butt, but Hanzo can pull it off.He’s also a slut for anything tradtional and the contrast of a sprawling Jesse and a proper Hanzo on their respective sides of the desk made me giggle.That’s all.

„What‘s this about?“ McCree pointed at the notebook with his cigarillo. He closed his lips around the end of it and dropped his hat on the floor next to him.Hanzo wanted to touch his lips around the cigarillo and feel his breath on his fingers. It would be hot.„I need information about the workings of the Deadlock Gang.“„Ain‘t you got a division fer that kinda stuff?“ McCree rubbed his untended beard.Hanzo drew a tiny circle at the top of the page.„I need insider information.“Their eyes met over the desk and they shared an inhale.

Things are getting intenser (more intense?) here. I thought it best to slowly edge into the serious weight of the conversation that comes after the bit you asked me to talk about.(Which is actually one of my fav scenes in retrospect, I think)

And I wanted to show the tenderness that forcefully wedges itself into Hanzo, burrowing into his being with all the charm of a bulldozer.He’s completely at Jesse’s mercy at this point already, mostly unaware of it, thoughWhereas Jesse’s getting more and more nervous, his mind as far away from pleasant things as possible. He’s two seconds away from trying to talk his way out of here.He gets scared more easily than he himself would like and it shows.

Hanzo is probably aware of this. (I don’t know that. He writes himself and evades introspection mostly, the jerk.)

Jesse took three drags before answering.„Okay.“And with that he mentally tossed the old black leather jacket hanging in his closet in Santa Fe out the window.He was fair game now.The tattoo on the sole of his left foot itched suddenly and he had to laugh at himself.Damn superstition.Shimada frowned at him. „What now?“„Ah, nothin‘. Jus‘ had to think of somethin‘ funny.“ Jesse grinned and stretched his legs out along the desk. Held himself upright with leaning his stump on the desktop.Crossed his legs at the ankles and let his spurs twirl.„Okay, what d‘ya wanna know?“

Jesse’s scared, but trusting Hanzo to catch him when he jumps into water, not knowing if he can swim.And he thinks, privately, that drowning is preferable to staying a traitor with ties to the people he betrayed.

It took him half the series to come this far. It will take him the next half to come to terms with what that truly means.But he knows here and now that he doesn’t want to walk under the name of Deadlock anymore.

I actually rewrote this bit a few times, though. I’m still not really happy with the leather-jacket-sentence.I have this feeling I could have said it in a more elegant way, but i don’t know how. So it stayed like that.

This also is a great bit to show how Jesse masks his own nervousness and fear with bravado and a show of being particularly at ease.I’m not sure how much Hanzo sees through it. But I think he knows it’s not entirely genuine.He worries.

This is the second time (in the part you chose) that I draw notice to the fact that Jesse is without a prosthetic atm and the first time i do it directly.The first time is where I call his beard “Untended”. And here I outright say “stump”.Both instances relate directly to the fact that Hanzo wants/needs insider information about the Gang.I’m not sure what I wanted to say with that.I don’t plan stuff like that. I don’t plan stuff at all.

I bullshit stuff. I write overly poetic lines and bullshit the rest.

But hey. I think it works? (You must think so too, what with reading my stuff so avidly? :’‘P )

I’d tell you what music I listened to when I wrote this, but I can’t recall. Probably indie pop. (It’s always indie pop or eighties music.)And I think I have nothing left to say.

If you want to know some more, feel free to ask. X’D (Oh boi, this is probably all over the place)