Never Mistake Mercy For Forgiveness

Never mistake mercy for forgiveness

Jjba writing practice

The form was tall, skin fair and olive in color. Smeared makeup as the lime colored hair framed the androgynously shaped head. The eyes, deep in color, green like the canopy of a rainforest wetted from the rains of stormy days and heavy humidity, were filled with dazed confusion. The form, showing peaks of wiry muscle, dripped the crimson colored fluids, they twisted and rolled down the folds of the outfit. Dripping. Pouring from the spot where the blow had been delivered. The form lurched forward, sneering. He hissed a jumble of words to his attacker. Who's gaze returned once more to the small images of the rainforest canopies that rested within the iris, now they filled with emotion. No longer was he struck with startled confusion, now washing over them was blood lust. A lust that wished to see this form, who had delivered a blow upon the unsuspecting body turned from the attacker, dead. Lust that sought the blood of all who stand in his way. And, as the body lurched forward again brandishing the fist to fill this lust, among the rumbling thunder and pouring rain there was a flash of lighting. The flash sending light into the air causing the pupils to shrink, almost as if to reveal what hide behind these emotions. For a split second a whole flurry of emotions shone through this lust for blood. But it was only for a fleeting moment.

Strike after desperate strike was sent to the blonde haired boy, but he seemed unbothered by this as the man shouted and groaned an agony and rage. Upon striking the boy would step aside and deliver his own punch to the exposed ribs, it was a waiting game now. A game to see who would slip up first. Like wolves they did a primal dance, sifting and twisting around one another, and like wolves they waited to see who fell first. Companions of the boy even gathered watching in intense anticipation as the blows kept being given. The fear seemed to be beginning to over take the man as more pain rushed through his body. This distraction as a voice called from the small crowd was his downfall, and he knew it. As soon as his eyes had darted aside his body seemed to scream, from deep down a primal voice chastised him and condemned him for this, and he knew exactly why. For as soon as he tried to correct this mistake all that he was met with was a fist planted in the face, his body collapsed as the rain continued to poor. He gagged as blood oozed from an assortment of cuts and bruises lined his body. His form tense as he barely held himself up, his gaze locked onto the cement as he caught his breath awaiting his fate. He looked around as footsteps approached, there stood the blonde haired boy he had so relentlessly been fighting, menacing as the rain poured over them. He could hear his heart pounding and once again the eyes shifted, the mask of a relentless murderer had been broken and now true colors showed.

behind the mask of these eyes there was more, pouring with blood and tears the eyes communicated something much clearer now. They spun a tale, sitting here they were filled with fear, the fear of a broken boy helpless to what he had become. Not just by the worlds help but with his own willingness to be molded into the beast that coward here. He huffed catching his breath as he was prepared for another blow to be struck but- a gentle hand was extended, the other shapes of the companions watched carefully, quiet mutters escaping them as the form which had been beaten and bashed looked to the blonde boy. His face still stern and cold but his body now more. . .forgiving? No. No. Merely understanding. Shakily, he raised his own wounded hand, and as his was taken, a strange new chapter seemed to have been opened in his book. He was not miraculously changed or forgiven by this act of kindness, but he was pulled from the deep hole that broken boy had fallen and dug into when he was so young. For the road to recovery was a long process

Baby jolyne frequently does shit like scrape her knees and things and jotaro dies a little inside everytime.

They are so gay

The inner workings of his mind are an enigma

So keicho cause he needs some love <3

Why can't I get rid of you?

Jjba writing practice

Her voice was chilling as she spoke his name. A name, he was no stranger to. A name he had been reminded. Reminded and made to remember how much of a gift it was. By her. His eyes shakily moved to meet her's. This couldn't be could it? She had been out of his life for years this. . .woman. she had been gone and he was glad to have finally rid himself of her and that name. And yet here, finally in his quiet life, happy, she was back. He felt anxieties rise back up in him, something was not right. THIS was not right. she was gone, and she never greeted him like this.

His suspicions proved true as he gasped for breath his form jolting awake, he shakily silenced himself looking over. He quivered for a moment remembering the woman next to him, shinobu. His wife and a women he dosen't fully know how to feel about. While not actually his wife this time he has spent here he. . .has grown an attachment. He feels protective of her and the boy, hayato. His. . .son. the boy was hesitant to trust him but he felt something was growing. Over all, he had settled in quite nicely, this truly was a quiet life he could get used to. . .if only these dreams did not haunt him. Dreams of the woman he left, His mother. She controlled him for so long, even now at times like this he felt taken advantage of even though she wasn't on this earth any longer. Slipping from bed he quietly trudged his way to the bathroom. With a deep sigh he looked into the mirror.

'what is your name?' He quietly asked himself. 'I am kosaku. Kosaku kawajiri.'

He looked to his reflection, feeling his heart thump in his chest. His stand manifested as it stood beside him, kosaku was startled stumbling back, he sighed relieved to see it was only his longest and oldest friend. Carefully dressing himself in some casual and comfortable clothing he began to cook. It would be morning soon and he needed to kill time. He would not go back to bed knowing the memories of her awaited him, he hated remembering that time. Especially her.

So he continued to cook. Because he was kosaku kawajiri. Loving husband to shinobu kawajiri and father to hayato kawajiri. He could cook and clean, was "learning" to play the violin. He often played for his wife and son long into the night to help them all sleep. He was a father, a businessman, and a husband.

he was, kosaku kawajiri.

AAA- TYSM- IM GLAD U LIKE IT- SBSBSB-

Iggy, 11

11. something [other character] believes about them that isn't true

Everyone thinks that Iggy hates kids, but actually he’s pretty neutral on them. If they’re loud and mean then it’s on sight, but the calmer kids who respect his boundaries and give him treats and scratches are fine in his book

C10 + fistfight with god + Pucci for the challenge thingie

He will finally achieve heaven!!

Really liking this one!!! Cheated a little with it tho >v• I think it adds more to em!!

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May or may not be thinking abt a Redemption arc au for him tbh- thxs for giving me some reason to bring it up lol <33

Pov: you gotta baby sit the prisoner ur gf and her dad just beat the shit out of

Luckily for you I am a god of the people @v01dv0r3

A gift of speedy and gentle pets <33

Also the image of the silly pooch bc I love it

Look at him sitting there