New Part 5 character artwork by Medicos for JoJo: A New Journey
New Part 5 character artwork by Medicos for JoJo: A New Journey
i saw these 1890s boots like 6 months ago and i've been thinking about this ever since
PLEASE BAHAHAHAHHA IM WHEEZING
i i i love them my kids
thank y'all for participation
A/N: It's 4AM and I'm in the mood for a wish fulfillment fic. I intended this to just be a drabble, but I thought this could be a nice premise for a story. If people enjoy this I'll make a part two.
Summary: After a fiesty argument between you and your family you head outside for a breath of fresh air. While on your walk you absent-mindedly cross the street only to get hit. When you wake up, a strange man sticks close by you as you recover… (Yandere Platonic! Risotto x Reader)
Warnings: Accidental Injury, Soft Yandereness, Abduction
Fresh air. It was something that you almost always took for granted. The only exception being when you were pissed off, of which you currently were. You took a deep breath, the sensation of cool air rushing into your nostrils slowly placates the heat of your anger. You breathe out, the warmth of your breath carrying with it your frustrations.
You open your eyes and stare up into the blue skies. Few clouds adorn it on this sunny day, allowing the beams to hit your skin with ease. The soft heat of this early morning summer day is reminiscent of better times.
A creak emits from underneath your foot as you stand up. The somewhat old, wooden porch bending to sustain your weight. You make your way to the steps and walk down. The creaks shift to the sound of crunching gravel underneath your feet. Then, the crunching of the gravel shifts to the rustling of your feet through the grass. You make it through to the sidewalk. You begin to walk.
Your arrhythmic steps settle into a pace as you put your earbuds in place. Your ear is overrun with the sweet sound of music and it guides you down the street. You have a specific destination in mind, but it'll take you a playlist to get there.
Bopping your body just a bit to the beat, you navigate your way across several streets. It wasn't hard, as few cars crossed your path and you turned up the volume even more. The songs echo in your bones. You become slightly more oblivious. You close your eyes just slightly longer than a blink. You cross the road.
And you get hit by something hard.
Your vision is knocked out and blackness swallows your vision. Pain erupts all on one side as you're lifted off the ground. You fly -at least it feels like you did- before falling down like a rock. The sudden impact jerks your vision, creating a rapid still image. You can recognize the dark scarlet scattered on the ground around you before your consciousness fades.
You come to with a throbbing headache and a soft pillow against your head. You wince at the sensation and attempt to lift yourself. You gasp at the pain that spikes through your body and instinctively lay down. Your vision returns sharply, so sharp that you squint as you attempt to assess your surroundings. You were in a car, moving on a road that seemed desolate of anything except tall grains. Someone was driving you somewhere, and this didn't seem like an ambulance.
"You should just relax and get some sleep if you can." A steady, baritone voice comes to you from your right. Immediately your body does the opposite of what he says and tenses up. You want to see this speaker, but the pain has you paralyzed, only able to catch a glimpse of the man's hand on the wheel from your peripherals.
Should you scream? You prepare to do so when he questions you.
"How are you feeling? We'll be arriving soon and can get you treated".
You're tempted not to speak, but decide against it. If this guy was dangerous, it wouldn't be wise to enrage him. You manage to croak out, "Bad," you briefly pause before you continue, "I can't move, I'm in pain, and I'm thirsty." Being near-death had left your throat rather parched and your tongue quite dry.
"Here." The man pulls to the side of the road and fetches a bottle next to him.
The man tilts your head towards him, but not enough that you can see his face. He tells you to open your mouth and you oblige. The plastic presses against your lips as gravity flows the water into your mouth. It's cold and soothing as you gulp it down, and you feel yourself relax slightly at the sensation. This continues for some seconds until the bottle is empty. He pulls it away and wipes away the water trailing down your chin.
"Better?" You find the strength to nod your head. The man seems satisfied as he gives a slight hum in response. He continues driving, silence coating the car for the rest of the ride. A wave of tiredness covers your body and you attempt to resist it. Fighting your body as your eyelids became heavier and heavier. Just as the last of your resolve ebbs away, you swear you can hear a faint voice say:
"Sweet dreams. (Y/N)."
Being alcoholic is a Jojo reference.
can i offer you a melon in these trying times?
people who have to deal with rohan for more than 2 seconds: wow, what an asshole
rohan with someone he actually wants to spend time with: ^^^
he's a dork, is what i'm saying (he's also an asshole, bc he's multitalented.)
Happy birthday @outofthiszawarudo!!!!
I sculpted a gory version of Metallica from JoJo!!
Title: Head On The Fritz
Rating: Teen and Up (Nothing overtly sexual, violent, etc...)
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders
Pairing(s): JotaKak, plus some Hierophant Green & Star Platinum
Summary: The sensation worsens the harder he tries to will it away. It crawls upwards, digging unseen nails into delicate tissue, until it reaches around his heart. It squeezes tight enough to make him suck in a breath. He presses his hand flat over his ribs, eyes a bit wide at first, but they narrow after a moment. It’s an attack from another stand. One that must have snuck up on him, completely unnoticed.
Notes: PTSD, panic/anxiety attacks; set vaguely in the future
For some reason I keep forgetting to post this here. It's been up on Ao3 for a bit.
Jotaro finds himself staring blankly at the page in front of him. There isn’t much to look at. He’s been at this for the better part of two hours, and all that he has to show for it are two lines of messy handwriting. The words refuse to come together for him, and his thoughts won’t stay long enough for him to arrange them in any kind of sensical order. The whole thing is growing increasingly frustrating.
He tries flipping through his notes. Then the texts he has splayed across his work area. There’s a number of markings in them, along the margins or stuck in place with sticky notes. None of it helps.
He needs something to help him get back to where he needs to be, but he doesn’t know what .
Another several minutes pass. Five, maybe. Twenty, just as likely. Thinking shouldn’t be this damn hard, and his breathing shouldn’t be this shallow.
A bit of fresh air might do him good, he decides and stands with the intention of going out for a walk. His chest feels a little tighter now, but he ignores it. The burning has to be acid build up from not eating enough at lunch. Nothing to be done about it until later.
The sensation worsens the harder he tries to will it away. It crawls upwards, digging unseen nails into delicate tissue, until it reaches around his heart. It squeezes tight enough to make him suck in a breath. He presses his hand flat over his ribs, eyes a bit wide at first, but they narrow after a moment. It’s an attack from another stand. One that must have snuck up on him, completely unnoticed.
And isn’t that just great?
“Good grief,” he mutters under his breath, ignoring how off he sounds.
Star bursts forward with his fists raised, ready to fight, but Jotaro only stands there. His eyes looking around somewhat frantically. Star Platinum’s own eyes shift from one side of the room to the other, up, down, and back again. No one is there, but that doesn’t mean that they’re safe.
“Star,” Jotaro breathes in greeting when he sees how Star Platinum’s eyes lock on him. Sharp, blue eyes fixate on Jotaro’s chest, which does little for his nerves. He hates being ambushed. “See something?”
Star stays quiet for several seconds, frown deepening as he does. “Ora,” he says quietly. With finality.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jotaro sounds snappish. Frantic. He sounds off in his own head, but he doesn’t have time to think about that.
Star grabs him abruptly, causing Jotaro to yank back without thought. He nearly loses his footing entirely, but Star stops and waits. Watches him with those damn eyes.
When Star reaches out this time, his movements are telegraphed. Slow and purposeful in a way that Jotaro doesn’t have to defend against. Star’s strong arms pull Jotaro close and shift him about until Jotaro is tucked into Star’s larger frame. He uses his size to sink them both to the floor without jostling Jotaro unnecessarily.
Jotaro is surprisingly-- and alarmingly -- compliant.
“What- what’s happening?” Jotaro asks. He winces at the sound of his own voice. The words sound slurred.
Star tucks Jotaro’s head under his chin and rubs his hands along Jotaro’s arms. His voice is a gentle murmur that doesn’t stop. The words (or, word, really) don’t register in Jotaro’s mind. He knows they’re reassurances, and he would normally understand them fine, but his brain won’t cooperate. There are black specks dancing across his vision oddly, and the edges seem blurred.
Fuck, he’s going to die.
He knows that voice.
Star tightens around him despite the brief calm that roots itself in his brain.
“Jotaro-- easy, Star. It’s only us, I promise,” Kakyoin holds his hands where the stand can see, allows himself to be examined as if he were a slide on a microscope. When Star’s gaze finally shifts back to Jotaro, Kakyoin decides it’s safe to proceed.
Carefully, he runs his fingers through Jotaro’s hair, brushes some of it back out of his face. His hat must have been knocked off in all the commotion. “See, no one is going to hurt Jotaro,” he glances from Star to his own stand. Hierophant looks oddly nervous from his spot at Kakyoin’s left.
“Hey,” Jotaro barely manages to force enough air out from his lungs in order to speak. He ignores the remark made as if he weren’t there, choosing instead to focus on Kakyoin. Kakyoin looks a bit disheveled but not alarmed. Not tense and ready to fight.
Kakyoin offers him a slightly stiff smile. The worry in his eyes is too apparent. He reads like an open book. “Star called for Hierophant. Do you remember that?”
No? Jotaro blinks up at him. He’s pretty sure he would have noticed Star yelling. He doesn’t know where Kakyoin had been before he came to be standing before him, but Jotaro is pretty sure the answer is ‘too far for Star to reach’.
“That’s okay,” Kakyoin says and moves-- with help from both Star and Hierophant-- to sit on the ground with his legs on either side of Star’s thighs. “Sorry,” he says a bit sheepishly. He doesn’t like taking up the extra space, but crossing his legs is rarely an option that won’t have plenty of consequence.
Jotaro can only shake his head. You shouldn’t have to be down here at all.
“It’s alright, Star,” Kakyoin reassures, running a hand along Star’s calf. He knows Jotaro can feel it, and it might be a little less overwhelming than direct contact. Especially with how thoroughly wrapped in Star Platinum Jotaro is. “We should take a few, deep breaths. I’ll count, okay?”
Jotaro wants to raise an eyebrow at him. Whatever is going on, this isn’t the time for meditation.
“Good,” Kakyoin smiles. He takes a moment to breathe in deeply, making a bit of a show out of it. “Now hold,” he says once Jotaro does the same. “One, two, three, four. Good, let that one out. Slowly. And again.”
Jotaro doesn’t think he would have the patience for this if his head weren’t swimming. It helps, somewhat, that Star is actually mimicking Kakyoin. With Jotaro’s back pulled up against Star’s chest, he can feel when his stand inhales. Not that Star needs to breathe, but it helps.
Finally, finally, his vision begins to clear. Various objects have edges again. Colors seem to be more vibrant. His chest doesn’t feel as tight, either, and he feels like he can think again, albeit slowly. He feels exhausted. Like he does after a stressful fight or an all nighter.
Kakyoin reaches to take his hand. Hierophant wraps loosely around their joined fingers. Star won’t give up his hold on Jotaro, but Jotaro doesn’t hate it. It’s nice. All of it is nice. Kakyoin in front of him, with his legs on either side of Star and him. Hierophant curled around them. The more relaxed Jotaro is, the farther the green stand climbs up his arm until it makes a net of itself and allows Jotaro to rest his head.
"The good news is that you weren’t attacked,” Kakyoin says gently. Hierophant has already cleared Jotaro of anything they might have missed. As much as he doesn’t like Jotaro suffering, he’s relieved to know that his assumption had been correct. “The bad news is that I’m pretty sure you had a panic attack.”
Jotaro definitely raises an eyebrow. “I don’t have those.”
Kakyoin hums, having more or less expected that answer. “They can happen to anyone, at any time.”
He half expects Jotaro to argue, but all he gets is a soft, almost defeated, “oh”. It speaks to Jotaro’s exhaustion. Along with the way his eyes slide shut. How long had Jotaro been on the verge of hyperventilation?
Kakyoin moves to get up, planning to help Jotaro to his feet. Hierophant begins to untangle itself from Jotaro, but they both stop when Jotaro’s fingers chase after them.
“Can we stay like this? Just for a few more minutes?”
Kakyoin settles back into his spot easily. “Of course,” he isn’t in any sort of rush, and the position isn’t entirely uncomfortable. He’s more than happy to oblige the request with a warm smile. He plays with Jotaro’s fingers, while the other man’s eyes slide shut.
Drawing a non-straight JoJo ship everyday of Pride Month day nineteen: Rispro
Johnny Tummy 🌸
finch’s bizarre adventure
Dr. Ferdinand 🦖🦖
@gingerreggg y'all mind if I continue this travesty (part 1)
Heads Up- Part 2 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)
The sun shone brightly through Joseph's window, its dazzling radiance rousing the exhausted artist from his slumber.
Well, that was a strange dream, he thought.
He remembered everything that took place last night. When he started seeing things, perhaps having a nightmare, fueled by his anxiety about finishing college. About graduating, becoming a professional, chasing his dream.
Anxious enough to dream that his creation started talking to him.
Joseph sat up and saw himself staring at an empty table across the room. There was nothing there, save for a few pencils and sheets of paper.
"C-Caesar?" he asked, somewhat reluctantly as if refusing to affirm the name from last night's dream. No reply.
He walked out of his room, heading toward the kitchen to make himself his morning coffee. And first thing he saw, resting atop the kitchen table, was his bust, his magnum opus, resting still and silent with vacant eyes staring into nothingness.
Like any proper sculpture should.
Joseph sighed and began to pour himself a hot cup. He turned his back on the bust for a moment, stirring his coffee and taking a sip.
And then he heard a voice.
"Well, Joseph, didn't expect you so early," it said.
Joseph flinched, spitting out his coffee from sheer surprise. He wheeled around with a confused frown, his shirt and face drenched in hot coffee, only to come face to face with his bust--once again animate, expressive and alive, like last night.
Caesar made a few small hops to face himself in Joseph's direction and chuckled lightly to himself, his eyes once again bright and alive.
"Y-you're real..." Joseph said, pointing at Caesar. "You're...not a dream, are you?"
"Suppose not," Caesar said matter-of-factly. "And you'd left me here on this table all night."
Joseph scratched his head.
"Ugh...sorry about that," Joseph said, sheepishly.
"Would you mind setting me down on the floor?" Caesar asked, somewhat annoyed in tone. "I've been so uncomfortable here being so high up and afraid of falling..."
Joseph set down his coffee cup and dried his hands. "Sure thing, I guess," he said with a shrug, and with a little strain lifted the heavy sculpture and rested him gently on the ground.
"Thank you," Caesar sighed, looking around the house now that he was on a more comfortable level. He turned his neck from side to side as he took in his surroundings, looking around from side to side.
"You've got a pretty cozy place to stay, don't you?" Caesar said, as he began to hop. Joseph just stared in confused acceptance of the situation as he watched the flesh-toned bust, looking every bit like a truncated stump of a man, slowly and clumsily make its way toward his living room.
Joseph watched as Caesar hopped, making heavy thumps as he went. He was certainly as heavy as he looked, made of dense clay, and with hop his tiny residue of a torso barely just cleared the floor, propelling him forward a few inches each time.
Joseph felt a pang of guilt seeing how difficult it was for Caesar to move. He felt responsible for his sorry state. Not that Caesar seemed to mind as of the moment, thumping along slowly but surely toward the living room to inspect its contents.
"I better just leave you on the floor for now," Joseph assessed. "Wouldn't want any nasty falls ruining my perfect artwork."
"You're such a tease," Caesar replied.
With a smile, Joseph retreated into his room to check on the rest of his work. With Caesar on the floor and the door locked, he figured he should let Caesar get a chance to look around for a bit after being stuck on the table all night.
Caesar looked around with curiosity and fascination around the house as he hopped his way along. With all the furniture, appliances, and even Joseph himself towering above the living bust, just a bit over a foot tall with only a head, neck and a bit of chest and shoulders, everything appeared huge in comparison to Caesar from his perspective on the floor.
Caesar felt so small.
But why? Wasn't he only created yesterday, as Joseph had said? How come he felt like he should be bigger? That something felt missing? If he had been alive only for a day, how come he knew the names of the things in Joseph's house, like the whirring thing called a refrigerator, or the noisy thing called a television?
As if he'd seen them before?
Yet in his current state Caesar's reduced form didn't feel...wrong. Just... strange. He didn't know whether it was strange in a bad way, or a good way, but he decided he shouldn't be bothering himself with such thoughts as of the moment, as his curiosity got the better of him and he continued to explore the house.
Meanwhile, in his room, Joseph was trying to study. The bust--no, Caesar,-- was his final project, due in two months, but he still had other things to work on, reflection papers, sketches, that were to be passed sooner.
Joseph figured he'd deal with those first and foremost, before he had to figure out how to pass his semester with his project now turned into his unexpected roommate. That problem could wait for now.
But as Joseph attempted to finish his sketches, some heavy thumps from outside, along with faint, strained groans of effort, caught his ears. He tried to ignore it at first, but soon it began to bother him as a few hours passed.
Thump. Ugh. Thump. Ugh.
Joseph dropped his pencil and buried his head into his arms with a sigh.
Had he condemned Caesar to exist as such? As a half-formed, incomplete creation, that also happened to now be a living person?
Joseph wondered if he could complete his project, or rather, add more to it. He after all had only planned Caesar to be a bust--but now that he was alive and aware, was it wrong to keep him a bust?
He didn't know how to sculpt bodies, which why he'd stopped with a head in the first place. He pictured how much extra clay he would need, how long it would take, weeks maybe, and whether he should set aside his other projects to make Caesar complete.
What was more important right now? His semester, or the being he accidentally ushered to life?
It was late afternoon by the time Joseph surrendered in his attempt to finish his sketch. His stomach grumbling, he left the room to fetch himself dinner.
Joseph opened his door to be greeted by a series of bouncing thumps. He looked downward and saw Caesar hopping toward the kitchen.
"You seem to have gotten quite good at this," Joseph said, amused.
"I've been practicing," Caesar replied. "It's all I got going for me."
Joseph watched amazed as Caesar continued to hop around. He'd learned how to thrust his head forward with each jump, and, able to move his residual shoulders ever so slightly for added momentum, was able to catapult himself for longer, more stable jumps, managing to maintain his balance upright with each landing on his now-flattened base, which had rubbed off a little paint but was otherwise intact.
Joseph wondered if it was uncomfortable for Caesar. Did he get tired? Did his muscles ache being forced to move this way?
But looking at Caesar, as he inspected the cupboard under the stairs, he felt not. He hopped like he'd always had, despite his earlier complaints last night about not having a body, and being made of clay, Joseph supposed he didn't have any muscles for him to ache, anyway.
It was surprising how quickly Caesar managed to adapt.
"What are these?" asked Caesar, as he hopped over to a small box on the floor. Using his lips, he gently picked up a small object--a paintbrush-- and turned to look toward Joseph with the brush in his mouth.
"Those are my art supplies," Joseph scolded, as he came over and took away the brush, placing it back in the box and lifting the box onto a table, out of Caesar's reach. "Please don't mess around with them." Caesar frowned in disappointment.
"Though I do have to admit, I'm impressed," Joseph chortled as he placed the box of art supplies onto the living room table. "Looks like you've also learned how to pick up and hold objects with only your mouth."
"It's not like I have a choice," Caesar replied with a shrug, or at least the closest approximation to a shrug that he could manage. "I have no hands, remember?"
"Like I could forget," Joseph snarked back, kneeling down to be closer to his level and playfully poking a finger into Caesar's partial chest.
"And since you've figured out how to move around, and pick up and hold stuff, perhaps I ought to teach you how to do some tasks and activities, so you won't be all too helpless, even though you're...well..." He gestured toward Caesar's stub of a torso, prompting an annoyed grimace from the clay figure.
"Hmph, oh well," Caesar grumbled. "At least that sounds kind of nice to have something to do, it's been dreadfully boring the entire night on the table."
Joseph smiled down at Caesar, but before he could reply, a knock on the door caught both of their attention.
"Joseph!" said a cheerful female voice from outside the front door. "I'm just here for a visit!"
"Suzi!" Joseph exclaimed, panicking. "We can't let her see you!"