P5/VA: JoJo characters as Cheesy Pickup lines

Panacotta Fugo

Prosciutto 

Risotto Nero 

Narancia Ghirga 

Pesci 

Melone 

Ghiaccio 

Leone Abbacchio 

Guido Mista 

Illuso 

Bruno Bucciarati 

Giorno Giovanna 

Trish Una 

Diavolo

Vinegar/Aceto Doppio 

Formaggio 

Tiziano 

Sale

Zucchero

Squalo

Polpo 

Jotaro Kujo 

Koichi Hirose 

Secco 

Cioccolata 

Carne 

Risotto’s Bizarre Misadventure

Breaking the mind of the rice goth. Slowly. Thoroughly. Painfully.  The following is not for the faint of heart, you have been warned. Contents: Mindbreak, anxiety, mild horror, torture, manipulation, (sexual) abuse, 

You keep Risotto chained in the basement. He is kept naked and in a cage that is clearly too small for him to stand up or stretch out. You feed him yourself before giving him anything else. He's not allowed to use his hands or mouth without your permission. He's not allowed to do anything until you say so. He has no privacy. Only time he gets to leave the cage is to be taken to use the bathroom. He doesn't get to shower. You spray him with a garden hose and the water is always nearly ice cold. The food he consumes barely tastes like anything, even if it's just nutritious enough to sustain him, but not let him be strong. After a while, he no longer even struggles to break free. The passion in his eyes is gone. He is docile. Even if initially he'd have attempted every day, only to be punished. Even if he'd resist at every opportunity. He submits. And you know he isn't faking it. It's been too long. He has no actual concept of time passing left. He's in the dark, alone, when he's not needed by you. Used only to satisfy your own needs, never taking care of his. He's not able to please himself at all. Just a toy for you. His mind is...shut down. He's but a shell of what he was. But his torment has only begun. As the light shines from the door, something feels different, but he doesn't respond. You come down and unlock the cage, unshackling him from the floor and ceiling. He is confused. You never leave the door open. It only builds as you take his face in your hands and gently stroke his cheek with your thumb, murmuring 'I'm sorry.'. His mind is blank as you take him outside, not by his leash, but by his hand. The light is painful for his eyes and he closes them, just obediently following you. He is taken to a car and you sit next to him, rather than shutting him in the trunk as usual. His mind struggles to understand the change. Did he do something wrong? Did he do something right? Are you being nice as a farewell? He doesn't know. He's not sure what to feel...

After a while Risotto found it difficult to stay awake. The car ride seemed to be lasting quite a bit, and not showing signs of stopping. The radio was playing something vaguely soothing at a low volume, in an otherwise quiet car. But he dared not sleep. This had to be a test. Something was wrong. You were not acting like your usual self. In fact. It took him a moment to realize, you didn't smell right. You smelled...nice. Why? You didn't used to bother with that? Thoughts swirled in his head, though none of them really stayed long enough to be examined too closely. He just wanted to sleep. He was tired and yet likely for the first time in a long time somewhat comfortable. He wasn't bound to anything. You weren't keeping him leashed, you weren't choking him. You weren't carving your name into his skin to remind him whom he belongs to, when he misbehaved or dared show emotions or made a mistake. Something was different. You were simply and ...gently holding his hand. Something is wrong. You were never this nice to him. Is it because you felt guilty? Were you going to get rid of him. Death wouldn't be so bad. What if it's not it? What if you're simply giving him away. As he is, unneeded or...not good enough. But...he was never good enough. You told him that, often. Why would things be different now? Should he do something? Should he try to escape? No. That wouldn't work. You always found him. Always. How, he didn't know. Maybe your Stand ability allowed for that. And it never ended well for him. Only reason you didn't starve him to death was to punish him further. Death was supposed to be a release, not a punishment. You said so yourself. His punishment was living. With you. At your mercy. So...why this? Why now? And who is that man driving the car? You never allowed any men in your life. Risotto was the only one you let get close enough to touch. And even then to roughly fuck yourself using him. You had no time for affection. You didn't even thank him. Just left.

The smell. The smell kept throwing him off. It was pleasant. Your hand holding his was warm. The car was warm. It was pleasant. Was it just a dream? Had he managed to fall asleep in his cage and not have a nightmare for a change? If so, he hoped he never wakes up. Reality was bad enough. The warmth of your hand felt real. He carefully moved his fingers prompting you to squeeze his hand a bit tighter. Why? This was too weird. It felt real, but it can't be. He was likely passed out from your little carving session and the warmth must've been his blood. It had to be. What else could it be? And the car? The swaying must be you trying to shake him awake only to punish for falling asleep on you. Right? And yet it doesn't feel like it. Something is off. He would look at your face, carefully, to avoid attracting attention, but fail. You caught him, but instead of yelling or scolding...you smiled? You never smiled. Not at him. Not...like that. You were acting so different from what he was used to, it was beginning to really bother him, but he couldn't quite put a finger on what it was or why nor what he could or even should do about it. Were you...even you anymore? He tried to suppress his urge to look away to avoid being hurt and examine your face. Your smile made him flinch. Such a strange feeling it gave him, but he briefly closed his eyes to compose himself and remind himself of your features to open again to look. He wasn't actually sure anymore. You never looked this clear before. It could've been the lack of lighting or his vision constantly swimming with either tears, sweat or simply from fatigue. Your smile looked almost too bright to look at. It felt weird, it felt wrong. It didn't feel like you at all. And yet, it can't have been anyone but you. His head hurt. Nothing made sense and the more he tried to understand the more it hurt, and it felt familiar. It felt like home. He was used to pain. He was not used to you being nice. Was this a new way to hurt him?

Where were you going? Why were you taking him? Was this an act of some kind? You never had a need to take him anywhere before. Why now? Something was wrong. Something felt very off. He didn't understand any of it. He kept trying to study your face, but that too felt off. You didn't look like yourself, but he wasn't quite sure about that either. Your face rarely was clearly visible to him. And the smell, the smell that kept invading his nose from having you be this close to him kept messing with his mind, it was distracting and yet oddly pleasant. He wasn't quite sure if he liked it, but he couldn't really get it out of his mind anymore than he could get it out of his nose. There was no smell of sweat or alcohol like you usually did, your eyes didn't look red from crying. You looked healthy and happy and full of energy, so different from your usual self. He slowly and carefully cast a glance around the car. Nothing. No reaction. He wasn't scolded or hurt for showing curiosity. Looking back towards your face, he was greeted with another smile and a reassuring squeeze of his hand. It took him all the effort he could muster not to flinch at that. His head still ached with all the unanswered questions in his mind, but he wasn't sure how to go about getting the answers. Dared he ask directly? Was that the test, was that what would cause him to return to what he was used to? This had to be some sick and twisted new way to hurt him, by giving him hope, a chance to ....what exactly? He wasn't sure, but he was certain it was only a matter of time before it would all come crashing down and hurt more than ever before, for having lost, again. And yet, a small voice in the back of his head kept egging him on, to keep trying, to keep pushing the boundaries he had been set to remain within, to prod at the proverbial leash and see how hard it'd be yanked back. The car wasn't even moving that quickly, he was not restrained, it would take just a moment to open the door and...

It couldn't really be this easy, could it? Risotto could feel his mind slowly, but surely becoming more coherent, he was feeling more awake, even as the quiet and gentle swaying, combined with warmth of the car and the grasp of your hand made him want to sleep. The thoughts in his mind made his head ache. The uncertainty of the situation made him feel cold inside with fear and anxiety. Only reason he wasn't sweating was having been trained like an animal to submit and not feel fear on a physical level and avoid that. You didn't like it when he showed signs of weakness and exhaustion. You never liked the smell of his sweat. You never liked his smell at all. You never liked anything about him. Not one thing. You only liked using him. Like you had been. He had just been a tool for you, to deal with your own demons within. He wasn't worthy of actual love or anything like that. He didn't deserve to be happy after all, not after what he had done. He was starting to believe it. That this...whatever this had been was his fate. His punishment. His way of atoning for his sins. After all, it was entirely his fault that they had all died. He no longer remembered how you had found him or convinced him to do this. He could only guess it involved drugs and restraints. He could not tell how long had past since you met either. Has it been weeks? Months? Years? Passage of time had been a blur from the beginning. Being kept in the dark, both figuratively and literally made it no easier to tell. He wanted desperately to shake his head and the thoughts along with it, but dared not move. Could not possibly make any sudden moves. Not now...not when there was a chance to...what exactly? Did he dare to try and run? Would he not get caught and punished? Was it worth it? A part of him had been curious now as to where you were heading with him. He shut his eyes and tried to simply breathe, focusing his senses to hear, to feel what is around him, before making his next move...

The radio was still kept at a low volume. After a few minutes of listening he could only tell that it sounded like classical music, possibly Vivaldi. His head was starting to hurt more now, even though he hadn't been thinking about anything, merely trying to get his bearings. So it hadn't been his thoughts then. Must be the after-effects of whatever drug you usually used. Withdrawal maybe? He was beginning to feel slightly ill and realized the swaying of the car was not helping either. He tried to shut his eyes further and hold still, nearly flinching again as he felt your hand squeeze his as you said something. You said...something. What was it? It was an odd feeling to have his mind racing with thoughts, but his body feeling sluggish and sick. And he hadn't heard you. He was so focused on hearing he forgot to actually listen. He cursed himself internally for it. Forcing himself to slowly open his eyes and carefully look your way. He immediately regretted it. The look on your face was of such deep concern and at such a contrast with how you had treated him, he nearly hit his head on the roof of the car from reeling back. Your brows furrowed more as you squeezed his hand and lifted your other one towards him only to pull it back as he impulsively froze up, shut his eyes and lowered his gaze in submission. He hadn't known you did it though. He had simply sat there, waiting for a strike that never came. Why? Questions swirled in his mind again. Why were you waiting? Were you hesitating or waiting for him to make a mistake to hit harder? His head throbbed with new pain, from having hit it against the car. It made him sick to think that it had soothed him more than anything else. That pain had been such a constant companion, he felt relaxed when it returned. He dared not move for a while, but slowly forced himself to relax. It would not do to have you hit him and hurt yourself, after all. It would only make the following suffering so much more. He would wait...

Was the car slowing down or was it just his imagination? He cast a careful glance your way out of the corner of his eye, his lids still lowered. Your gaze was lowered onto your lap, or more specifically his hand in your lap held in both hands now. They felt warm. You were gently rubbing your thumb in circles onto his skin. It felt nice. And it worried him. He was not used to you trying to comfort him. Or you actually were not and this was just a way to make sure he doesn't just leap out of the car. That sounded more like it. It sounded familiar, almost comforting and it made him feel sick. More than he was already feeling. You had to have been truly a twisted person to derive such pleasure from causing him pain, both physical and mental. Only fitting to deal with someone like him, he supposed. Someone actually nice would not have been able to treat him as he deserves. Pain was familiar. Abuse was familiar. Bleeding? Ah, it all had made him feel alive and he hated it. He should've died. He should've died with the rest of them. Cruel fate allowed him to survive. Or he was kept alive against his will by you. To ensure his suffering. He paused to force himself to breathe slower, pressing his teeth together with some force to keep himself calm and focus. Or try to focus. He looked tentatively towards the window, trying to identify his surroundings. None of it looked remotely familiar. It did look very modern. Or perhaps just official. The building the car was heading towards was a kind of dirty white and had a steel door. The windows were large on the bottom floor, but all of them had bars on the outside and blinds on the inside. A prison? Can't be...he hadn't seen a wall or a fence around the perimeter or the guards. The whole place looked empty. Had he simply missed it while trying to combat how his body felt? His throat felt dry and yet he wanted to vomit at the same time. Headache was getting worse. He immediately regretted looking at you again. You had smiled.

He shuddered, causing your smile to falter. It made him feel good. He wasn't sure why, but it did. Only for a moment before fear set in. He had made you stop smiling. He had made you displeased. He froze. Thoughts racing in his mind. Casting another look towards the window, he noticed the car had stopped moving. He swallowed and almost regretted doing so. Contraction of his throat made him want to throw up more. He struggled to keep the taste of bile down, swallowing again in vain. Turning to you, you must've realize what was going on, for the look on your face was that of concern again. The reflection in the rear view mirror showed his face to look very pale with a sickly green tint to it. He hadn't dared to speak, simply swallowing, hard. Flinching when the door on his side had been opened and the driver held out his arm to help him get out. Past him the building stood quiet. The door was shut and there weren't any lights on in any of the windows despite it having gone dark. He hesitated to move until he turned to you and you gave him a nod of approval. He was beginning to dread looking at your face now. Your expressions, your smell, your actions. They had all been such a contrast with before, he wasn't sure what to think. How to feel. Other than fear. Pain. Nothing. The latter was the best part. He tried to make a move to get out of the car and his vision blurred and he staggered. The driver trying desperately to hold him steady. You clung to his hand from the other side as you shuffled along the seat to exit from the same door. Were you concerned for his health or merely keeping him by your side. Why did you bother with holding his hand? You didn't bother with public opinion before and had no qualms with keeping him on a collar leash. Were you trying to make different friends or pawn him off to someone new? He took a tentative step and his vision swam. You were guiding him toward the door. It remained shut and none seemed to make an effort to open it. Why?

He shuddered, staggering on his feet, the driver almost failing to keep him standing as he suddenly stopped and all but bent over to retch. The bile in his mouth was bitter and the smell made his eyes water, but nothing came out. Then again, it was expected. You hadn't fed him yet. His throat burned all the same as his body tried to empty the stomach that had nothing in it. If it hadn't been for you and the driver he'd have collapsed. His energy had drained so rapidly from standing up, his entire body contracting and convulsing was exhausting and he tried to grind his teeth together to get himself to stop. It made things worse. Bile gathered in his mouth and burned. He felt forced to spit it out. He felt short of breath, vision blurry from fatigue and tears from the stench. He had not been fast enough in bending down and some of it had dripped onto his chest. He reeked of it and it made him cough. He wished he hadn't been conscious. He would've have traded this day for any he had before. This had been a new sadistic way to torture and he wanted the one he was used to back. He missed feeling nothing for hours and days until you needed him. He watched with calm detachment as the ground seemed to get closer to his face for a brief moment and his vision darkened. Your voice came through to him in a kind of wave. Muffled, but sounding worried. He couldn't make out the words. He tried to blink the moisture from his eyes, but it didn't help. His eyes seemed content to show him nothing but darkness. He made a more conscious effort to focus on his surroundings only to realize his eyes hadn't suddenly gone blind, he had closed them without noticing. He briefly saw the darkened, cloudy sky before it was replaced with an equally grey and gloomy ceiling with lights that were too bright to look at, so he stopped. He closed his eyes again. No longer caring what happened. Once again drifting into familiar state of feeling nothing. Caring about nothing. Being nothing. To be continued...

JoJo Hogwarts Shenanigans part 2

You woke up with a start, slinging your feet off the bed, but didn't quite calculate the momentum and had to scramble to grab onto the covers as you nearly fell off, managing to slow down enough to half-slide, half-slump down the side of the bed onto your knees, with an audible thud. "Ow." You stared to the side with a glare for a moment, pretending you're on a TV show, your expression full of 'See what I have to deal with here?', sighing to yourself before standing up, slowly. "Ow intensifies." You would stare down at your knees, that looked a fair bit more red from the landing and heard a voice of your housemate, just before something hit the curtains, causing you to back up and plop down onto the bed, as something slid down the curtains and lay still. "Aye, shut it, trying to sleep here." You would carefully peel back the curtain and stare on the floor, then throw the fallen pillow back towards the owner, getting only a tired groan in response. What a lovely start to the day. What's the time anyway? Is it socially acceptable to be awake yet? You peered around for a clock, finding it on the floor next to where the pillow was and lifted it back up onto the trunk. Only six in the morning...Wait. SIX! Oh no. Darn you better get moving, you have to finish the makeshift essay before eight and you weren't sure you had it all done properly, especially after failing to even read it last night! You nearly violently grabbed the stuff on your trunk, throwing them onto the bed, opening it and sifting through to find clothes you wanted to wear for the day, becoming more frustrated by the minute. No, no, no...this won't do, nope. Definitely not. Ugh. Why are these things so small? Why couldn't you have a charmed trunk that expands? Suzi Q has three! And she's in the same year! Life isn't fair. You huffed to yourself, blowing the hair upwards, only for it to fall back down over your eyes and with extra friends, causing you to grumble. So, this is your life now, huh? Oh well. Time's a wasting. Better get moving. You settled on a simple black turtleneck and dark blue jeans, throwing a robe on top. Less is more as they say. If only that applied to your trunk! Less taking up space and more filling it! You huffed again, quickly folding and stuffing the rest of the clothes back into it, and setting the clock back on top of the trunk, grabbing your bag from the side of the bed and heading out into your common room again to finish your work.

Okay, okay, okay. So it only took you an extra half an hour of work to fix the absolute mess that you wrote in your half-asleep state. No big deal, right? You still have tim...wait, what IS the time? You looked frantically around the common room, spotted a clock and nearly shrieked. FFFF....You're going to be late meeting up with Jonathan if you don't hurry now. Once he's out and about after his morning run, who knows where his curiosity will take him. He could be mapping out routes of ants around the lake or something for all you know! You quickly, but still fairly carefully stuffed the papers and inkwell into your bag, making sure nothing is out of order and everything is properly sealed and dashed outside, nearly tripping on the entrance. You can make it. You know you can...you absolutely can...right? You nearly ran into another housemate and freaked out some first-year when you skidded to a halt, with a loud groan and stalked towards the bathroom. Brushing your teeth, right. Almost forgot. Man, that would've been embarrassing. Can't have Jonathan thinking you eat nothing but raw trash or something. Okay, sure, your breath didn't smell that bad, probably, but, hey, you weren't about to take any chances. You walked over to the nearest sink and stared at yourself, setting down your bag near your feet. So, what if you just now realized you looked like a classical depiction of a witch. This Is a school for them, right? Not a problem...hehehehe...ugh. You sighed to yourself and fished out a hairbrush from your bag compartment, struggling for a bit to get your hair to obey you and be manageable enough to work with. Right, teeth next. Where did I put my toothbrush? You reached down to look for it and froze, a shiver running down your spine as you thought to yourself. That's funny, I don't remember making low ponytails... You slowly and carefully looked back up and around as you still browsed through your bag for the brush and toothpaste, but saw nothing out of the ordinary around you. You shivered and shook your head. Okay, that was weird. I could've sworn...ugh. It's probably Peeves. It's gotta be. Or someone playing a prank on you. Surely. Right? Right. You reassured yourself and focused on your bag's contents, finally finding your quarry near the bottom and lifted it triumphantly....only to drop with a muffled shriek as you spotted your reflection. "AAmph!!" You clasped your hands over your mouth, in shock and fear, staring wide-eyed into the mirror, toothbrush and paste, dropped and forgotten at your feet, as the sight before you took all of your attention, as you stared at your reflection in silent horror, seeing someone else instead. That is...that's...AAA, that's that guy...the guy..the guy in the mirror. Why me? Why me?! Why ME?! What did I do to deserve this..I can't. I have to go. I have to ugh. No, no, no. Why today? I didn't need this. I just wanted to brush my teeth and ....what is he doing? You stood there horrified, your thoughts running a mile a minute, your breathing shallow and rapid as the initial shock was slowly replaced with confusion at the sight before you. What IS he doing? Is he crying? No, can't be. Yeah, that's not tears, that's just water on the mirror itself. He does look pretty sad though. You watched the man in the reflection stare back at you, a pleading look upon his face, his palms pressed against the glass, his fingers curled as if trying to scratch through it. You shivered again, as a thought crossed your mind about him actually scratching through and attacking you. You shut your eyes and crouched down, muttering to yourself. "You're not real, you're not there, you're just my tired mind playing tricks. You can't hurt me. You won't be there, when I stand up again. I will brush my teeth and go meet up with Jonathan." You chanted to yourself, your teeth slightly chattering, as if you just now realized how cold it is. You reached out for your fallen items, picking them up and keeping your eyes closed as you reached for the tap and turned on hot water, running your toothbrush under it. You took a deep breath and opened your eyes to open the toothpaste and squeeze some of it out, before slowly, but with a determined look lifted your head to look in the mirror. Oh. You breathed a sigh of relief as you only saw your own reflection once again, your expression still carrying a hint of fear, your eyes wide. You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut again and opened them, steadying your breathing, close the cap on the paste and lift your hand to brush your teeth.

'What is wrong with me?' You thought to yourself. You didn't used to be this jumpy and this wasn't your first year here either. You had been here for quite a while and should'e gotten used to this craziness by now, right? I mean you had heard that there is some guy that you can sometimes see in a mirror, but no one could actually prove it and the people that had seen him were rare, most of which above year five as well. No wonder you hadn't encountered him until recently, but still. You didn't expect to Actually encounter him either. Why would you have? No one could tell what the people that did see him had in common, so it's not like you could really determine if you had something special about you. No matter. You had a job to do. You had no time to ponder such things now. You sighed and finished brushing your teeth, washing your face with cold water for good measure, put your things away into a small packet, before stuffing everything back into your bag, slung it over your shoulder and cast one final glance into the mirror, to make sure you looked presentable. Okay. Looking good. Okay, not good, but decent. Okay, okay, good enough for now. Enough for school and meeting with a fellow student that you didn't have romantic feelings for ..or were friends with...or didn't even really like more than others. Nope. Nosiree. Not you. You were simply a kind person and wanted to help. Yep. That's it. Well, off you go now. You reassured yourself of your noble intentions and walked out of the bathroom, heading downstairs, out of the castle.

Gasp!   Guess it’s too late to hide now. But everyone is pretty damn neat as well, but especially @hecateluna​ @moody-bloosh​ @staruplatinum​ @peachfyzzy @bjnurse @yanderebloodlust @jojo-blurbs @saltiestofqueers @a-heroes-stand  @e-lectroma And anyone else that enjoys JOJO’s Bizarre Adventure.

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Neat!!!!!!

* a note for anyone who has been tagged in this post, this neating is non-negotiable. you are neat and you are going to have to come to terms with that. this post is immune to all “no u"s and uno reverse card images.

JoJo’s Hogwarts Shenanigans

Illuso as he was aptly named was a mystery at Hogwarts. Only ever seen in mirrors, often when he was least expected, and yet it was always difficult to say if he was real or merely Peeves playing a prank on those that have just woken up and simply trying to brush their teeth or something. Was he actually a person, a ghost or a poltergeist? Or a delusion as his name would have you believe?

His appearance certainly made it difficult to do so, for it was incredibly odd. His dark brown hair set in four low and rather girly looking ponytails, his eyes red, which in itself was highly unusual, even by the Wizarding world standards. Yet he didn't seem evil, despite what having red eyes would normally have one believe, resorting to shocking alone. Silent as a mime, merely a reflection in the mirror, rarely staying for long in any one of them as if unable to remain still or perhaps spurned by the onlooker's expressions. His own face often seeming angry or creepy, due to his furrowed brow and occasional sly grin.

His outfit seemed equally out of place among muggles as it would wizards. His chest was covered in what looked like to be a mixture of a vest on top of a sweater, but for some reason leaving his stomach exposed. Although in actuality it was a single-piece item, a strange coat connected at the top by a strip on both side, only wide enough to cover the chest, with two buttons, the bottom held together with a simple belt. His pants, that shared the same pattern as the rest, a kind of net of squares, somewhat padded, made him look as if he was dressed in a blanket more than anything. The top part may have been white at one point, and the sleeves may have been dark purple, now it looked faded and almost grey and the sleeves nearly pitch black. Whether the change was due to the angle and lighting whenever he was reflected or from wear throughout the time was difficult to tell, for he had been around for a while now. The colour of his shoes could only be described as...muck, and his feet were rarely in view anyway.

However, no one is quite sure when exactly he had appeared or why, but it seemed to be recent. Not everyone saw him either. None of the professors recall him from their youth when he was described, and none of them had seen him. Only the students ever did. And usually sixth or seventh year ones only, though there had been a few times where younger ones had spotted him out of the corner of their eyes and gotten fairly scared. Older ones would say if you chant his name three times, he will appear, and if a special condition is met, you might even see him. What the special condition is, no one knows. Older students certainly won't tell,  either to perpetuate the sense of mystery or maybe because they don't actually know themselves. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~------ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯--------- ~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Staying up all night trying to finish a kind of essay for Jonathan was a bad idea, you surmised. It wasn't even due for the next two days! Why were you doing this then? What kind of draconian methods was this guy using to have his fellow students forsake sleep for the sake of schoolwork and not even their own? You pondered this for a moment and then came to the conclusion that he was just too sweet and it's impossible to say no to him when he asked for something. ...But wait! He didn't actually Ask you. Or anyone, just sighed quietly and mentioned he was struggling to understand the homework for transfiguration class and was a bit intimidated by the professor. Ah, Jonathan, you precious cinnamon roll you. How could you refuse to try and help this boy? How could anyone? His smile alone was enough to brighten a room. There wasn't a soul in Hogwarts who could possibly hate him...well, okay, there was Dio, but you weren't sure he had a soul anyway, so he didn't count. So here you were, up in middle of the night, in your common room, trying to organize the notes you had gathered for your own essay to put into a cohesive lesson plan for Jonathan. Funny thing, you didn't even consider dating him or anything like that, hell, you weren't even really friends. Well, that is, he was friends with basically the entire school, so you wouldn't have been special, but there definitely was something about him that drew people to him, that's for sure. You nodded to yourself in agreement.  And yet, here you were, working your butt off to try to help a guy you were barely beyond acquaintance level, in the middle of the night, instead of sleeping. Ah, the things you would do to make people happy. You smiled to yourself and tried to re-read what you had written and just stared. and then tried to read again and just stared. Okay, maybe sleep IS a good idea right about now. You thought to yourself with the realization that even after the third time the words on the paper just weren't registering and kind of just blurred together. You sighed and set the quill back into its proper place, closing the inkwell and setting them aside before sorting out the textbooks and your notes into a neat pile to take up back to your room. You ran your tongue over your teeth thoughtfully and frowned, muttering to yourself "Ugh, I don't recall eating sand today." grumbling you packed everything up into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and trotted towards the bedrooms, vowing to brush your teeth first in the morning. Sure you could've have gone to do that now, but getting caught by the caretaker again wasn't really in your plans. Curse that guy! Him and his damn bird. Soulless bastard! You grumbled to yourself as you pushed open the door to your bedroom, barely sparing a glance to your housemates that were all sound asleep, slinking closer to your bed and carefully setting down your bag next to it, you shrugged out of the robe you were wearing over your PJ's and all but fell onto your bed.  After a few moments of sighing into the covers, you got up, picked up your robe and folded into your trusty trunk, then got under the blankets and closed the curtains, laying on your back, staring upwards before closing your eyes and taking a more comfortable position and drift off to sleep.

Chains of Love

The meeting of “unequals”.

…The unmistakable clanging of metal filled the room as seemingly endless coils of a chain were dragged rattling along the floor. The air hung heavy with cold and damp, sounds echoing off of ancient stone walls in an otherwise eerie silence. The only light source a pair of candles,  flickering on each side of the cell door, for it was indeed the depths of a dungeon, thick metal bars and all, caused shadows to dance across the floor. The chain tensed and suddenly came to a halt with a quiet twang as it met resistance at last, being lifted off the floor in the process. A quiet amused and yet audible smirk accompanied the event, as the chain was yanked on, with ever so little more force, only to be met with the same result. Casting a glance along the links towards the entrance one would find a hand, the chain coiled around the wrist like a snake around its victim, held almost lazily and without effort. Towards the depth of the cell, the binding ends at a collar, made of a different kind of metal. And yet it is not a beast, but a man wearing it. And what a man it is…there seems no end to him, as he sits, with his back against the wall, muscles taut against being pulled, the flickering of the light casting a shadow over him, his eyes narrowed and hidden partially behind strands of long hair, their colour that of metal shiny and silver, matching the collar upon his neck. The eyes blazing in the dark, filled with a quiet fury, bright red against the black background, as they seemingly pierce the holder of the chain to their very soul. Defeated, but still defiant, bound, but not broken, this imposing figure of a man, is none the less at the mercy of their jailer, glaring at them, daring them, taunting them with the display of his indomitable will. Whatever is one to do to tame one like him?….

Imagine...

You dressed in an expensive, long and elegant black evening gown, with a cut on the side, going from your thighs down to your ankles. Your back bare with a very low cut, almost indecently so. Your hair done up in a fancy and intricately curled up ponytail, held together with a tiny silver ribbon and a promise, more than anything. Your thigh high stockings held up by your even more expensive silk and lace black lingerie. Your heels cast aside to let your feet rest... ....as you lay on the bed, ass up, a pillow under your stomach to prop you up further and Risotto fucking you from behind, half-whispering half-growling how much he wants to grab you by the hair and pull you close or grope your ass and breasts until you're nothing but a wet, moaning mess in his arms, but, he's not allowed to...actually touch you with his hands, so he covers your bare shoulders with passionate and slightly rough kisses, filled with desire, the heat from his breath a sharp contrast with occasional cold touch of the metal bells on his hat, whenever they touch your skin  sending electric shivers down your spine. He would all but moan into your ear in his deep almost guttural low voice, how much he wants to cover the back of you with his mark, for it is the most perfect sight to behold, as he lingers around your shoulder blades, leaving an occasional bite in between kisses...not pausing even to let you breathe properly, as he keeps thrusting into you at a somewhat lazy pace, to savour the moment...  

Imagine

DIO returns to his mansion, dripping with water from the rain, tracking dirt and mud everywhere, orders his servant to strip and lick him clean, while only moving on all fours, but every time they get close enough, he uses Time Stop to move just out of reach, taunting them, "So blinded by my good looks, are you, my pet?". If they manage to almost touch him, "Ah, how quick you are on your knees, it suits you, perhaps I should keep you like this...". Occasionally stretching out his hand, to show just how close he is. If they question if he's using his Stand, "Am I toying with you? Are you suggesting, that I, DIO, would stoop so low as to play with my food? Surely you jest." He would absolutely smirk, making it hard to tell if he's serious, but if his servant doesn't immediately apologize and grovel before him anyway, he would appear behind them and push them down into the ground with his boot, until they do...

JoJo Pirate AU

Bruno's gang are pirates, La Squadra will be all mermen. Obstacle to overcome on their great pirate adventure. The basic premise is Bruno's Crew seeks to find the treasure of the fabled Devil's Sea, but have to prepare for the long journey for it is far away and accidentally fish up Formaggio, causing the rest of the group to come after them, even after they release him. And by release, I mean selling him to the fishermen, from whom he escapes.

Bruno’s Pirate Crew

Bruno Buccaneer, Captain

Giorno Gangplank, Doctor

Narancia Gunwale, Master Gunner

Galley Mista, Boatswain

Lucre "Landlubber" Abbacchio, Cook

"Privateer" Fugo, Quartermaster

Lucre "Landlubber" Abbacchio

is the diva of the crew, insists on visiting every single port, to visit 'the ladies'. Mostly to stock up on rum and select vintage of booze for himself that he hides from the captain, and visits 'ladies' to get more makeup to hide exhaustion and stress.

Fugo

refuses to tell people his actual name and is only known as the "Privateer" for his refusal to be called a pirate and trying to do things 'by the book' even if it's a Pirate's one. Calling him a pirate is a no-no...prepare to be drawn and quartered by him if you do.

Galley Mista

spends more of his time eating than fighting and yet still somehow manages to remain fit. Uses firearms exclusively and insists on only wearing red hats, without feathers, however, cause they make him sneeze. Mediocre in melee fights, only carries a small knife to peel apples. Is proud for not needing a large blade to 'compensate' for anything like the rest of his crew, gets along best with Narancia Gunwale the Master Gunner.

Narancia Gunwale

is the gunner of the crew, relatively short and passes for a girl, which the crew uses to lure in ships, by having him pretend to be the only one left on board or stranded on an island in need of a rescue. Doesn't actually like wearing dresses, due to how heavy they are to swim in as he inevitably ends in the water by either trying to escape or being thrown overboard. Has deadly aim with cannons and firearms, but still carries several knives, one in each boot and an extra tucked into his right sleeve. Enjoys Mista's company and they often compete in shooting, though, at times Narancia is better than Mista, when drunk than when both are sober. Mista refuses to admit it.

Bruno Buccaneer

is the captain, but acts more like a parent to his band of misfits. Has several knives stored in small compartments on his clothes, that are all zipped up, but oiled well to avoid making sound. Causing him to have to wash his hands often granting him the nickname "Sticky Fingers." Though no one dares call him that in his presence. Second only to Abbacchio in age, worries his Cook might be purchasing booze for personal use rather than food making, but doesn't know how to approach the subject without upsetting him.

Giorno Gangplank

is the medic on board, though prefers to spend more of his time charming the populace in ports, often swindling and pickpocketing for petty cash, but since he is known for being a doctor, no one believes the victims, for he is polite and well-spoken. Second only to Fugo in terms of education level, but prefers to use his mind for criminal activities rather than bettering himself.

La Squadra Mermen Team

Risotto Mare, tail of an orca.

"Futtock" Formaggio, tail of a leopard shark.

"Pelagic" Pesci, tail of a cookiecutter shark.

"Purser" Prosciutto, tail of a "sleeper shark".

"Marlinspike" Melone, tail of a nurse shark.

"Island" Illuso, tail of a spotted dolphin.

"Growler" Ghiaccio, tail of a white shark.

"Gibbet" Gelato, tail of a tiger shark.

"Scuttle" Sorbet, tail of a thresher shark.

Risotto

as the de facto leader of the group of mermen, has no nickname, likely due to his intimidating aura and no-nonsense attitude. Boasts the largest tail of the lot, and yet is the most stealthy and agile swimmer, likely due to the dark colour scheme. Is strict and ruthless, but just. Has very sharp claws and teeth and will not hesitate to scratch or bodyslam any that challenge him. Prosciutto is the one responsible for making sure the group is fed and equipped for combat, by organizing hunting trips for prey or raiding parties on ports and ships. Has a habit of licking the gap in his teeth, when thinking, but gets annoyed if someone points it out and can get verbal if not violent, depending on the level of mockery.

Pesci

looks up to Prosciutto as a leader, more so than Risotto, and wouldn't mind if he was the captain, but secretly prefers Risotto to remain in charge for as much as he respects Prosciutto, he could never be like him if he were to be given responsibility, but the calm manner in which Risotto solves things appeals to his more gentle nature. Watch out if you insult his hunting skills though. He is the fastest in the group despite being the heaviest and having second to shortest tail. How he does that, no one is sure, but he has no match when it comes to acquiring provisions, which is why he is often following Prosciutto.

Gelato and Sorbet are rarely present, preferring to go on long hunting trips together, the most vicious and aggressive of the group and thus not really missed when they are gone, unless they need a raiding party or extra help for defending their reef. Gelato often being the one to reel in Sorbet's temper tantrums if he was not given his 'fair' share of the loot, especially if it contained shiny things. Sorbet doesn't care about the value, only the gleam of it and hoards metal and glass objects indiscriminately, and has the sharpest claws that he uses to cut through things. Gelato is the most sleek of the group, while Sorbet's tail is covered in scars from multiple scuffles with other mermen or pirates, for he refuses to flee, unless ordered by Risotto himself. Sorbet Holds Prosciutto in contempt for not 'training' Pesci better and for being too obsessed with appearances and keeping the better looking things for himself. Often clashes with him when dividing the loot. Gelato is more mellow and doesn't care much about what he gets as long as he's fed and has at least a hook to stab with.

Illuso

is often sitting on rocks and showing off to passing sailors, luring them in with sweet singing, and looking like a mermaid and then sending shockwaves with his tail should they try sending a rowboat near him, causing it to capsize. Most vain of the group and often fishes for compliments . Refuses to admit he is wrong on anything, but will back down if called out by the leader or Prosciutto, whom he gets along best with, due to mutual appreciation for finer things.

Formaggio

has the shortest tail and is often considered more of a pest than anything, for his insistence on throwing fishing nets on his sleeping comrades as a joke, freaking them out, but being one of the fastest in the group, second only to Ghiaccio in speed, usually gets away with it. Pesci is faster, but too timid to chase him and he doesn't mess with Ghiaccio anyway, for he does not react well to jokes or pranks due to not understanding the point of it all. Is prone to stealing loot from others, and placing it in other mermen's chosen dens to hide him doing it and provoke conflicts.

Ghiaccio

is the second fastest in the group, though believes himself to be the first in speed, but lacks maneuverability of Pesci and is often left behind, when he rushes into obstacles and sometimes knocks himself out. Has a very cynical and dry sense of humour. Does not understand wordplay, takes things too literally and often becomes frustrated when he doesn't get the jokes Formaggio tells. Doesn't really get along with anyone because of his temper, but is generally feared respected well enough to leave him alone. Has the loudest voice and can shatter glass with his siren screech, though is usually silenced by Sorbet if he's around, to avoid him breaking his 'shinies'.

Melone

is the lightest of the group, second only to Gelato in terms of being sleek, though is much better at taking care of his tail, being the only one in the group without any scars. Spends most of his time grooming himself or toying with any swimmers that have strayed too far from the rest. Uses his siren charm to confuse people and make them obey him, by talking to them as if they were a child, giving simple commands that work on a primal, basic understanding. Complicated orders are avoided, due to causing the people to think and break the charm.

Glossary

Buccaneer: Another name for pirate.

Futtock: A curved timber that forms a rib in the frame of a ship. "One o’ the bits yer trip over."

Galley: A low, flat ship with one or more sails and up to three banks of oars, chiefly used for warfare or piracy and often manned by slaves or criminals. Or the kitchen in the ship.

Gangplank: A removable board or ramp used to board a ship from a pier.

Gibbet: Chains or cages in which the rotting corpses of hung pirates are displayed in order to discourage piracy.

Growler: A small iceberg or ice floe which is barely visible above the surface of the water.

Gunwale: Originally the structure was the "gun wale" on a sailing warship, a horizontal reinforcing band added at and above the level of a gun deck to offset the stresses created by firing artillery.

Lucre: Money, especially when regarded as sordid or distasteful or gained in a dishonourable way.

Lubber:  An awkward, clumsy, unseamanlike fellow.

Landlubber/Land-lubber: The worst kind of Lubber, one that’s never even been to sea before.

Mare: Italian or Latin for "sea"

Marlinspike: An iron pointed tool used to separate the strands of a rope for splicing.

Pelagic: Living in the open ocean rather than coastal or inland waters, taking place in the open ocean

Privateer: Someone who robs at sea or plunders the land from the sea with letters of marque from a government.

Purser: An officer on a ship responsible for provisions and clothing. Such provisions were often sold to sailors on credit against their next payment which meant the sailors never actually managed to keep any of their money when they were finally paid.

Scuttle: To deliberately sink a ship by making a hole in the hull.