wrongs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wrongs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2015-12-04 09:15 pm
wrongs) wrote in bakerstreet2015-12-04 09:15 pm
( canon mates & crossovers welcome! )
[#11 is basically the story of this untouchable mutant's life. Combos anyone?]
(Favoring 1, 2, 5, and 14.)
Edited 2015-12-05 07:09 (UTC)
Johnny Joestar | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Steel Ball Run
johnnyjoestar
2015-12-05 08:24 am (UTC)(link)
Fai | Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle (or World Chronicle if you're up on that! <3)
smilelikeyoumeanit
2015-12-05 08:25 am (UTC)(link)
[It's sometimes hard to remember what things were like before. There's a dividing line between what was and what is, stark and bold, a single moment in time, and Caesar remembers it because it did change everything, but also because he felt alive that day, and the day after that, and the next. Maybe he'll feel alive until he dies.]
[Hard to say, of course, but easy to remember, easier than breathing. He'd entered the tourney on a whim, with shoddy equipment and nothing worth fighting for but fighting itself. There'd been some whim, he supposes, some distant hope that things would work out just right and he'd get in with the court, on the lowest level only of course, just enough to send some money home, to make things bearable for Nicola. He wasn't dreaming big.]
[Truthfully, he wasn't dreaming at all. He just wanted to see someone bleed that day.]
[They'd laughed at him at first, inexperienced on a horse, fierce and ungainly with his teeth bared and jaw tight, but they'd stopped laughing quick enough when he shattered lance after lance. It was a combination of luck and talent, of course, but what won it in the end was his absolute refusal to let a match end. He'd knocked what turned out to be the queen's right hand off his horse and into the dust and leaped off his own to land on his wrist with a sickening crack, leaned over him, not calculating but positively feral . . .]
[And someone had cleared his throat from the stands, and all had gone quiet.]
[It was strange after that, very strange. Not frightening, because Caesar was so hard to frighten, especially in those moods, but unusual, not the typical way of things, even he knew that. This boy arguing with his mother (the queen, it registered eventually, which would make him--) and gesturing out past the stands at Caesar, still bearing all his weight down on the knight's wrist almost absent-mindedly. And then the prince met his eyes.]
[And that's how it happened. That's how it continues to happen, in fact: Caesar is given leeway that few others would be given, on certain conditions. Protection, which came grudgingly; devotion, which, when it came, took him utterly by surprise. Now, of course, it's automatic. No one looks sideways at Jotaro because they know they'll be hamstrung on the floor in a breeze.]
[Jotaro doesn't need him, that's the funny thing. Not really. But that seems to be a secret the prince is perfectly content keeping.]
[Today is hideously beautiful. Caesar may scream from it - the sunlight streaming in through the tall, thin windows, the breeze wafting through the door when it opens, the chatter of children outside. He gets a glimpse outside as they circle around to their next inscrutably royal errand, and sees that there are people playing in the courtyard fountain. He wants to know who they are. He wants to get his feet wet.]
[But he follows, sighing, at heel.]
If this goes on for much longer, I won't be responsible for my actions, I hope you know that.
[Hard to say, of course, but easy to remember, easier than breathing. He'd entered the tourney on a whim, with shoddy equipment and nothing worth fighting for but fighting itself. There'd been some whim, he supposes, some distant hope that things would work out just right and he'd get in with the court, on the lowest level only of course, just enough to send some money home, to make things bearable for Nicola. He wasn't dreaming big.]
[Truthfully, he wasn't dreaming at all. He just wanted to see someone bleed that day.]
[They'd laughed at him at first, inexperienced on a horse, fierce and ungainly with his teeth bared and jaw tight, but they'd stopped laughing quick enough when he shattered lance after lance. It was a combination of luck and talent, of course, but what won it in the end was his absolute refusal to let a match end. He'd knocked what turned out to be the queen's right hand off his horse and into the dust and leaped off his own to land on his wrist with a sickening crack, leaned over him, not calculating but positively feral . . .]
[And someone had cleared his throat from the stands, and all had gone quiet.]
[It was strange after that, very strange. Not frightening, because Caesar was so hard to frighten, especially in those moods, but unusual, not the typical way of things, even he knew that. This boy arguing with his mother (the queen, it registered eventually, which would make him--) and gesturing out past the stands at Caesar, still bearing all his weight down on the knight's wrist almost absent-mindedly. And then the prince met his eyes.]
[And that's how it happened. That's how it continues to happen, in fact: Caesar is given leeway that few others would be given, on certain conditions. Protection, which came grudgingly; devotion, which, when it came, took him utterly by surprise. Now, of course, it's automatic. No one looks sideways at Jotaro because they know they'll be hamstrung on the floor in a breeze.]
[Jotaro doesn't need him, that's the funny thing. Not really. But that seems to be a secret the prince is perfectly content keeping.]
[Today is hideously beautiful. Caesar may scream from it - the sunlight streaming in through the tall, thin windows, the breeze wafting through the door when it opens, the chatter of children outside. He gets a glimpse outside as they circle around to their next inscrutably royal errand, and sees that there are people playing in the courtyard fountain. He wants to know who they are. He wants to get his feet wet.]
[But he follows, sighing, at heel.]
If this goes on for much longer, I won't be responsible for my actions, I hope you know that.
Edited 2015-12-05 09:37 (UTC)
[ Life was uneventful ever since he was taken off his post. The All-Father didn't approve of fraternization within the army. The idea was "glory" would be enough. It never felt like it was enough. And his scant conversations with Loki made that clear enough. The army wasn't the life for him anymore.
He sighed. He should just resign. Consider something to do with exploration. ]
He sighed. He should just resign. Consider something to do with exploration. ]
[Age difference loved. Already spoken for might be angsty fun. Open for anything, though.]
[Age difference loved. Already spoken for might be angsty fun. Open for anything, though.]
[ No 6, please. ]
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