O151292391



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    He feels like a wild animal trapped in a cage, pacing and pacing, waiting for freedom that won’t ever come. He’s hungry like one too; always craving something to sink his teeth into.
    It’s foul, honestly- the deep pit in his middle, and how it begs not to feel so empty. He cannot ever fill it and he knows that much. On his worst days, he thinks back to the living armour. He pictures himself as that metal husk and for a second the emptiness is a comfort.

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    09 Mar 2025

  2. Public Bookmark 38

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    "This isn't how it was supposed to go. They had been rash and so excited to share something personal with Kabru that Laios had lost track of him in the middle of it. Did Kabru hate him now? Was this breach of personal boundaries too much? He sees those blue eyes starring into nothing, looking so deep in a thought in a place Laios can't reach, and then-

    Anger.

    A swirl of ocean blue and a golden shine from the sun; working together to send a beam of fear and fury right into his very soul. Laios wants to never have to see that face again. The way Kabru's nose scrunched up in disdain and his eyebrows furrowed. Edges creasing between his eyes. Kabru looks so unlike himself when he does that. Laios hates the fact that he ended up being the reason for Kabru's wrath, but what exactly did the royal advisor hear in that music that upset him so?"

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    Kabru Of Utaya and what it means to be a part of a culture. To see it misinterpreted and abused, as well as one's inability to do anything about it. How can Kabru possibly handle the complexity of an identity, when his name has been spread so thin you can barely see where it began and where it ended?

     

    Or, or: Kabru VS Cultural Appropriation.

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    25 Nov 2024

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    To devour, and be devoured, he thinks, as he slips the key into the lock. To devour and be devoured, he muses, as he helps unclasp Laios’ cloak with hands far steadier than his nerves; this close, he catches the vague scent of candle flame, the iron tang of wet ink - the fresh, crisp smell of a new book. To devour, he thinks - as he catches Laios’ gaze, tracking his movements, before the other averts his eyes - as if he as been caught, cheeks a pale shade of pink; and be devoured, he thinks - as Laios sits on the edge of his bed; thinks how easy it would be, simply to step forward, to tilt his chin up and kiss him, what might happen if his feelings were reciprocated -

    - arousal lances through him; white-hot, fist-clenching - his stomach lurches.

    “No,” he says, instead - keeps a respectful arm’s length apart, as he watches Laios tug off his boots, his eyes tracking the flex of muscle under his tunic sleeves, the careful concentration in his eyes, as he works to unlace the tops. “No, I think I understand what you mean, when you say that.”

    Or: the adventures of Kabru, master overthinker.

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    21 Nov 2024

  4. Public Bookmark 36

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    Control has always been crucial to Bruno Bucciarati. His stand, his choice of work, everything about him reflects it, and he's happy with that. Fortune favors the bold. But there are so many things that are out of his hands, no matter how he fights against them. Things like the indifference of the government, the brutality of the drug trade...

    He just never thought his own body would be one of them.

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    29 Oct 2024

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Leone Abbacchio knew betraying the boss would almost certainly mean death. Accepted it. Sure as hell didn't anticipate that the afterlife would entail train rides with the world's chattiest assassin, old British men who bake you pie whenever you want, Narancia dating a nice boy with a hole in his chest, and occasionally chasing the creature that used to be Giorno Giovanna's father off your porch with a shotgun. Bruno better be proud. Abbacchio's really trying to be a better person.

    -or-

    Leone Abbacchio learns to love Leone Abbacchio.

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    02 Aug 2024