#CLACKER SPOTTED

[ofallthingsnasty]

been thinkin about mouth inspections at the dentist (with our faves). Isn’t there a way to tell if you’ve given bjs before? Like there’s an indent in the roof of your mouth or something? Since you have experience in dentistry, i thought I might ask💀

Perhaps dentist fave pokes around in your mouth and finds that spot, asking all sorts of gross questions, who’ve you done it with? how many have you given? and then forces you on your knees, explaining the whole time what he’s doing to that spot in your mouth as he brutalizes your throat. Law or Doffy would be the worst for it. Doffy wouldn’t be able to control himself and Law would be so calm and collected, it would be scary

Yes, but only hard and recent blowjobs - there can be petechiae on your palate!! (Think tiny red spots) We don't care, though ajsjjksk and as always THIS IS FICTIONAL OFC I DON'T ENDORSE THIS AJSKKS

The mental image of 'big dick Doflamingo's everything but mostly expensive implants mill'-dental office is sending me. Baby 5 not-so-subtly chewing gum behind her mask while she makes you wait in the chair. Him coming in half an hour late (you've been nervous and sweating the whole damn time and the radio is blasting nothing but shitty early 2010s pop which doesn't help), clearly fresh from some break and not a difficult procedure, showing you just how much he doesn't care about you. He fucking reeks of cologne. Light pink scrubs that fit him so well it's not even funny. Has a weirdly delicate gold chain around his neck that really emphasizes the way his pecs puff up before connecting with his collarbone. It kind of makes you want to fall into his... well, his cleavage. (Because of course he chooses scrubs with a rather unorthodox neckline - who's going to tell him off? He's the boss. Sometimes he comes in wearing polo shirts in that same pink tone and they're always, always a little too tight.)

He throws himself into his little chair so hard it skids right up to you and he just smiles as a greeting, porcelain-white veneers blinding you for a moment, before he puts his mask up (also pink, it's a whole fucking theme here). It's all pretty standard, Baby 5's clearly fake nails clicker-clacker away at the keyboard while he lists off your dental status - until he gets to the soft tissue, especially your palate.

tw. crack treated seriously + noncon = the combo from hell, medical malpractice, Law is in here too, as a separate listing (same tags for him + hypnosis), minors dni, don't take this too seriously i had too much fun writing this it's so silly, dental hypno doesn't work like this don't worry lol

Well, that's certainly an eyebrow raiser. Looks like little old unassuming you has a bit of a wild side. He can tell you know your stuff by how big and angry-red the bruise on your mucosa is. You've been a patient of his for a long time now - and other that the fact that you pretty much look like you're about to faint every time your ass touches the chair, you've been rather forgettable (but cute, he has to admit). He can tell you don't like the way he fingers around your mouth one bit - and that you're waiting for his final evaluation, taut like a bowstring. You're probably pissing your pants at the thought of getting some major work done. He knows your type and nudges his fingers just a little farther down your throat, to your uvula, just to see how trained your gag reflex is (and to keep you anxious for just a few seconds longer, it's just too precious).

You don't even blink. Others would have coughed up their breakfast by now but you're sitting there, eyes teary and face worried. Would you look at that. It's good he's wearing his mask or else you'd be able to see that he's poking out his tongue because he's smiling so hard - you're suddenly in his top ten patients, right next to all the big bucks and two or three genuinely interesting cases. And oh, he's getting ideas with the way you fidget under his gaze. You wouldn't tattle. You wouldn't even fight back. My, you're perfect for a little lunch time fun.

Baby 5 is out of the room with a single gesture, closes the door behind her with a distinctive click. She won't bother him either, she'll just go hide in the break room and text her newest boyfriend until someone scrapes her out of there again. And you? You're already anxiously waiting for his diagnosis, fearing the worst. Oh, he'll give you the worst. It's delicious to see your face go from nervous to absolutely crestfallen as he spins some tall tale about how need to get big work done on two molars, how bad it already is and how you probably should opt for implants (his specialty, after all. And so expensive he just knows you'll do just about anything to save a little money.) Of course, you trust him. And of course, you agree for him to go with the 'best' (and coincidentally most expensive) option, even when you're clearly fighting back tears at the price. He tells you to lay back, brings the chair to the highest, horizontal position and overstretches the neck so that your mouth is in a perfect line with your throat. It's unpleasant how the blood from the rest of your body is cut off from your head in this position, how the whole room is suddenly overhead and that damn light is shining straight into your eyes. It's supposed to give him a better look at your upper teeth - but when you open your eyes to his fucking dick of all things and him telling you that you want that treatment cheap, don't you?, you learn that not everyone has your best interest in mind. (Sadly, you don't even get to answer because he just shoves himself into you and fucks the protest right out of your oesophagus.) When he's done with you, your whole face is full of spit and mucus and you probably lost consciousness at least once - turns out not enough perfusion for your brain coupled with extreme anxiety and someone gripping your throat to fuck it better isn't exactly the healthiest thing in the world.

Honestly, you'll try so hard not to go back after that experience, you really do. Problem is, you gave them your mobile number when you first signed over your data - and just two days later you'll get a barrage of texts in finest text speak anno 2004, with a million of 😜🤞😂🦩 emojis asking you about the state of your throat and if you still want that follow-up. Cheapest set of dental implants you'll ever get, honestly. You only have to sell him your dignity.

Law on the other hand... All prim and proper in starched white, medical professional through and through, yet so gentle - has a whole concept around dental phobic patients, with warm and welcoming treatment rooms, gentle music, offers laughing gas, hypnosis and even general anesthesia if the fear is especially bad. Always professional and never condescending or infanitilizing (like some can be when it comes to phobic patients). He's a dentist, a doctor, the authority in this place but he guides with a gentle hand - and people adore him.

You've been his patient for a while now - and he can't lie, he really likes you. You've been a dream to work with despite your anxiety; have endured every session bravely, you hang onto every word he says with big, wet eyes. He makes a suggestion - you take it. No matter the cost, the time, how outlandish the approach might be, you're always willing, nod your head yes and try to tough it out. You're somewhat soggy, almost whiny but that's okay. It's kind of cute, really. So when he sees those telltale red spots on your palate, he's a little surprised... You come across as so meek while on the chair, it's hard to picture you as anything else outside of it. But clearly, you're either an extremely attentive lover or you're wilder than he thought. Honestly, he's almost pouting over this revelation. Who are you fucking? Even if the sentiment is inappropriate, it should be him - at least that's what his little crush on you whispers to him deep, deep down. He mills over it a little too long, long enough for you to try to speak around his fingers in your mouth - there you go again, asking him (and so politely, too) if there is something, anything? And to his shame, all he can think about is if this is how your tongue feels like when you're using it. The way you slur against his hand, that warm and entirely too inviting mouth so close yet so far - it's giving him some shameful, shameful ideas. What harm is in a little test drive - especially when you've been proven to respond well to hypnosis. He has just enough time to rope you into a little session, as well. So he pulls a face behind the mask and explains that yes, actually, you have a little cavity - a teeny tiny thing that could be filled so easily right now, if you have the time for it. The way you immediately tense up underneath him isn't lost to him. God, you hate surprises, he knows that, and he's being so, so selfish - but it's too late to take back his words now.

He can practically watch the thoughts form in your brain, can see how you valiantly try to fight down the panic over a surprise dental procedure. But, as always, you swallow the lie hook, line and sinker. And when you ask him if he can use hypnosis on you again, he knows he's won this round. It's not ideal - you're already upset over this whole situation and to get you into that relaxed state is going to be a lot of work, but he knows you well enough by now. A sentence here, a soothing word there, gentle encouragement wrapped around it all like a bow - the moment you've let go, he can simply pull his pants down and force himself into your mouth, that's how far away you'll be. Of course, you aren't as active as he wants you to be, but the thrill and novelty of the situation is more than enough for him. The thought of marking you like this, to cum right down you throat without you or the ominous other person fucking you knowing, is more arousing than he'd like to admit. Maybe he has to stroke himself to completion (because your slack lips around him are far from enough) but his orgasm builds up quickly and hits him hard. He can already feel that pesky sense of guilt nagging away at him the moment he collects his breath - but he cleans you up and fixes your rumpled clothes and shoves all those bad feelings into some far away corner of his mind.

Your numb jaw is easily explained away, as is that horrible taste in your mouth - and he did give you a filling, after all, so hey, the lie isn't that bad, right?

(Law totally did his junior time at Doffy's terrible implant money grub mill and then vowed to himself that he'll never ever ever become like that. Well, that kinda sorta didn't work out, huh?)

[aller-geez]

Getting to know: Zeroh Osiris

199 // he/him // pansexual // Undead (Reaper)

Full name: Zeroh Osiris

Nickname: 0, Oh

Date Of Birth:

Big Three: Scorpio 🌞, Scorpio 🌙, Cancer ↗️

Physical Appearance —

Age: 199 years old (died at 27 years old)

Eye Color: White/Pale blue w/ grey rings

Hair Color: Black & White

Weight: 157 lbs

Height: 6’7

Race: Undead, Reborn as a Reaper

Distinguishing Marks or Characteristics: A black “mask” type tattoo around his eyes, three straight lines between his bottom lip and chin, both eyes have a vertical line from his hairline to his eyelids, both hands are pitch black (blighted) and dark bruise-like marks fade up to his shoulders. Usually wears leather gloves to cover his hands. His throat, shoulders and the joints in his arms and legs all have dark scars (think where jointed dolls have their joints), three ring clacker in his septum, plus various other facial piercings

Personality —

Greatest Strength: His empathy. He loves animals and goes out of his way to make others feel accepted.

Greatest Weakness: His empathy. Often times he absorbs too much of everyone else’s moods and energy and will fall into a depression.

Soft Spot: Onyx

Mannerisms: horrible about making ill-timed, corny jokes whenever there’s tension around. One of those people who greatly overshares and trauma dumps without realizing. Because he’s a reaper and sees death constantly, he’s completely desensitized towards it, often resulting in comments/work stories that make others uncomfortable.

Miscellaneous Trivia —

Always has what appears to be the spirit of a Raven that flies around him or sits on his head/shoulder. She can dematerialize to be invisible, although she can be heard through the veil. actually a spirit who’s wandered earth, lost for so long their soul had deteriorated substantially and they are only able to materialize a small portion of their original form, unable to pass through the realms to reach thier afterlife. They choose to take the form of a semi translucent raven and has been with Zeroh for as long as he’s been a reaper.

He died at the age of 27 by drowning, and even as an immortal he still tends to get anxiety around bodies of water.

Because it’s crafted by shadoweavers*, his scythe can be transferred through the veil whenever it’s not in use, making it disappear, and can be retrieved again from anywhere whenever it’s needed.

* Kriia’s clan crafted his scythe, where he met and became close friends with her, Blythe and Freya.

Sneeze Content —

ALLERGIES

Dogs

Almost anything small and fuzzy like Rabbits, Mice, Ferrets, etc.

Photic (traveling thru the veil as means of transportation/teleportation triggers a few photic sneezes as he rematerializes from the light it generates)

How severe are they?

Extreme. Even though he’s allergic, whenever called to a soul in need of escort and it happens to be an animal he’s allergic to, he still will treat it as he does the rest, often times holding the animal to his chest as he walks to their destination.

Do they get sick often?

Doesn’t typically get sick because of his lack of a beating heart, therefore a nonexistent immune system, although it’s not impossible.

How bad is it usually?

Although it only ever lasts a day at most, it’s almost always severe, and when it’s at its worst, his skin can leak black ooze, and passing through the veil isn’t possible until his health is restored.

Do they stifle?

Sometimes, but it isn’t a regular occurrence.

How loud are their sneezes?

Usually they’re more harsh sounding than loud sneezes if they’re from his allergies, but sneezes from an illness can become extremely loud, often causing Amara to hide in the veil to protect herself.

What do they sneeze into?

Often his hands. If he’s wearing his cloak, he sometimes uses fabric of the sleeves and/or collar.

How often do they sneeze?

Often. With the number of reapers dwindling and Alistar’s laziness quickly increasing, his case load is extremely full. There’s only 3 reapers in a 100 mile radius, meaning he often came in contact with animals he’s allergic to, as well as teleporting home which also causes him to sneeze.

How many times do they sneeze in a fit?

2-3 in a fit is pretty typical, although sometimes he’ll get stuck in a drawn out fit of 6-10 over a 10 minute span.

Do they have build-ups or are they sudden?

Drawn out fits can have build ups, otherwise they’re pretty sudden.

Do they sneeze in public?

He doesn’t like a ton of attention, but he’s very unskilled at holding back so he just accepts it. Gotta do what’cha gotta do, right?

Often he’s even sneezing every few sentences throughout the entire walk to heaven with animals that trigger his allergies.

Some examples of their sneezes?

Hh’EHTSSChh’uu!

Hh’TSCHHh’iiew!

Huh’TSSCH’uuh!

Hhh’AHTCHh’iew!

hh— huh’AHTSSCHHh’iew!

Backstory —

‪In life, he was a seasoned thief/con artist that scammed and cheated his way through life, selfishly screwing over anyone he could for a quick buck. After a few years, he’d ruined more lives than he could keep track of, although he didn’t care to. After a freak accident that prematurely ended his life, his soul was condemned to the underworld for his actions on earth. There, he begged Lucifer for his forgiveness and to be spared from eternal torture, to which the devil had two conditions: 1. His hands were blighted, and anyone to touch his bare hands would die instantly, and 2., Because of the Anti-Christ’s laziness, more Reapers were needed to be sent out to retrieve souls for him. Zeroh agreed, and he became a reaper, an entity that is permitted between all three realms, in charge of collecting the souls of any living creature on earth and escorting them to their designated afterlife. He wears leather gloves to avoid touching anyone accidentally After his rebirth as a Reaper, Zeroh fell in love with a human man and was in a 15 year relationship with him. One night, he fell asleep without his gloves, and when he rolled over to spoon with him in his sleep, his blighted hands touched his skin and he was killed instantly. It greatly effects him still, making it second nature to keep other people at an arms length, especially romantically. His lover’s soul was stranded for a few hours until he finally woke up, and when Zeroh discovered what had happened, he sobbed for a few minutes before having to walk hand in hand for the very last time with his boyfriend up to heaven, somewhere Zeroh would probably never get to go. It made him swear off relationships as to avoid prematurely ending a life, and saving himself the heartbreak of losing another person. He used to be someone selfish and apathetic towards the world around him but becoming a reaper and being the last conversation many souls ever had was sobering and reformed him. ‬

He is always accompanied by a raven spirit that he dubbed Amara, meaning “Blessed without end or demise.” While they appear as a crow, they are actually a spirit who’s wandered earth, lost for so long their soul had deteriorated substantially and they are only able to materialize a small portion of their original form, unable to pass through the realms to reach thier afterlife. They choose to take the form of a semi translucent raven and has been with Zeroh for as long as he’s been a reaper.

Reference Sheet —

(Coming soon~)

[thickness-protection-program]

TMI ask

What's your most embarrassing sexscapade lol

Tbh I don't have many embarrassing sex stories bc I don't have many sex stories period but my first kiss was with a dude from Grindr back when I was 18 or 19 and we were on top of a parking garage in his car and I went to put my hand on his knob and clackers but I couldn't find them in the dark 😫 he literally had to grab my hand and place it on x marks the spot haha

[knockoffmordred]

Just finished GA-EX-8, thankfully my roster has improved so I was able to no thoughts head empty my way through it.

I know there have been scenes where Mon3tr is fighting, from Walk in the Dust to Under Tides. Call me stupid, but it took me seeing the big guy burning while S3 is on to realize how fucking horrifying it would be to be one of the poor bastards that has to face Mon3tr.

Like imagine, you're just a grunt, maybe a mercenary. Your unit's orders are to kill this green haired feline, called Kal'tsit. Seems harmless, especially with the amount of manpower and firepower your boss/client has brought along for this assignment.

You've set up on a elevated position, binoculars and comms unit at the ready, crossbow not that far from you. Your job is to spot her and to start the ambush...with a massive IED.

Again, you found the amount of firepower brought along this mission very weird. Yes, during the briefing it was said that there were reports of her having a bodyguard, apparently this bodyguard was deadly, but surely not deadly enough to start planning like you were going to hit a Blacksteel convoy. What's one guard to all this firepower?

As you were thinking about this, you see movement in the distance, you look through your binoculars. You see the target and report it immediately. Your commander tells everyone to get ready, and in that one short statement, you hear the anxiety in his voice, for some reason it infects you, your gut is telling you now to run. You try, unsuccessfully, to push down your own anxiety as she approaches the ambush point. The target appears to be your complete opposite right now, confident, guarded but relaxed, her gaze constantly scanning her surroundings.

Wait, she stopped moving. You report this quickly before looking through your binoculars again. You freeze.

She's stopped scanning as well. She's only looking at one spot.

Yours.

You panic and reach for the detonator. As you wrap your hands around the clacker, one thought crosses your mind.

"Where's the bodyguard?"

You dismiss it the moment you heard the clacker's clicks.

The next thing you hear is a deafening explosion, going through even your ear protection, making your ears ring. As you look at the massive cloud of dust, you start looking at the carnage. Debris is still raining down, seems like there's a massive crater where that IED was, and...

How is she still alive?

This question is immediately answered by seeing that...thing behind her? Or is it in front of her? Surrounding her?

It looks like a collection of crystals floating, forming a beast-like form, it looked like it was shielding her. That thing doesn't even look like it was damaged by the blast, that thing took a hit that would have brought down anything short of landships.

The blood in your body froze when you hear it make noise. A roar unlike anything a normal animal can make. The next thing you heard was everyone else opening fire.

Not only did the firepower make sense now, but it also looks like it's not enough firepower. Explosives did nothing to that monster's body, ballistae bolts are deflected, everything else did even less to it. The same cannot be said for the soldiers close enough to it. They were shredded by that thing's claws.

The screams and that thing's roar will haunt you forever. You did your best to hide at your spot, hoping beyond hope that they forget that you were here. Some fool decided to sacrifice himself by carrying incendiaries up to it and detonating all of it at the same time, it did nothing. It became quiet, nothing but the crackle of flames left. You dared to take a peek.

It was monstrous, demonic. A creature made out of crystal, surrounded by flame, eyes bright green like its master's but glowing, predatory, cold, focused. Focused on you. Surrounding it were flames, likely from the incendiaries but might as well be a manifestation of its hatred, or its evil.

[ratfreecog]

Do you have any specific details about what each person's haunt character would look like in the scare actor AU?

Crutchie is who I’ve thought about most so I’m starting with him. Think steampunk gone wrong. Think fnaf style person trapped inside of robot. He has a decorated set of crutches decked out with cogs and chains and shit with blood coming off of them to give a mechanical look. His costume is very metal and mechanical, he has clacker gloves that he bangs against his crutches and the back of his jacket (which is a very stiff, long coat) has gears and cogs and shit stuck to it like some weird contraption (and they can move!). He does elaborate makeup too to make it look like he’s literally a human spilling out of a machine. Also instead of speaking he has a speaker with audios of his voice super distorted and roboty. He wears it on his chest and it lights up when it plays, making it literally look like a robot’s voice box.

I have less details for this one but Spot are clowns, which is how they got their name. I’m taking big inspiration from my own haunt for this one cause the theme of one of our attractions is literally punk trash clown and that’s exactly how I imagine them. They’re punk trash clowns. (Also to confirm from my last post, yes, boy Spot is the one who wears the platforms)

Those are the only ones I’ve majorly thought about. I know one of them is going to have a marionette doll character but idk who, and I also have vague ideas for Race but nothing I’m really happy with (Race is also one of the makeup artists, and he does do both Spots makeups)

[creepypasta-archive]

Sam

by DATGUY66

This broke me. To this day I've still not been able to figure out what the fuck is this story about. It feels like something you'd see in a dream and have an aneurysm trying to read.

CW// Spooky Jeff image at the header with a knife near it's face, bullying, knife, implied slurs??

Click below to read the original unedited story

Sam was always known to push the envelope, but now something had just gone completely wrong.

Nobody liked Sam — he was the nerd. He always sat in the corner of the classroom, studying and studying. He got bullied a good amount of times, and was always being pushed around and stepped on.

The worst part was that he was my friend.

I was on fairly higher ranks than Sam, but being friends with an absolute geek would come in costly. I would sometimes be bullied, too, and I wished I was friends with somebody else — but the only reason I was his friend was because I felt bad for the poor lad.

Well, everyone did. Whenever he walked around the school corridor, kids would laugh and point, insulting him and saying things like “Hey everybody look, it’s Sommy!” and everyone would laugh. I would try to hide my giggles, but it was impossible, Sam was just so pathetic and tiny. I could easily push him into the dirt.

Of course, I grew up knowing Sam would probably work as a retail clerk or something, but his good education and file of knowledge had suggested different.

I, myself was very smart, but what made Sam bullied was mostly his appearance. He would wear a pin-striped button T’shirt, along with clacker trousers and really big and circular glasses, which made his eyes look bigger than they really were.

Usually, he had to replace his glasses, because nearly everyday he’d be tripped (by some kid) or punched in the face, and of course damaging his glasses. Sam never really cared about what people thought though, and so did our history teacher. When Sam would sit quietly in the corner, studying, kids would most likely call him a “dumb ox,” but then our teacher would say, “You call him a dumb ox now, but he could revolutionize modern science.”

I knew she was probably right, but that didn’t make the insults die down. As years passed, Sam’s insults would get ruder and more harsh — and one new kid began using some words that would send him to the principle’s office if he got caught using them. During lunch, I felt really bad for Sam. The cafeteria prices were raised through the roof — and we couldn’t bring our own lunch.

Plus, Sam always forgot to bring his money. But the adults who served the food at the cafeteria had sympathy for Sam, and would give him lunch for free. Well, only because THEY felt sorry for him. Of course, some kid would trip him or push his face into the mashed potatoes, so he’d be extra hungry when we left.

Whenever Sam sat somewhere, all the girls would move to the opposite side. I even once heard one of them say, “Scrawny little guy, his life’s probably a living nightmare!” I had actually told the principle about this.

One night, me and Sam were walking from school, and then I spotted something shiny in the forest. There was actually a huge forest realm right beside our school, so afterwards or in recess we would go there and have our “Epic Adventures.”

Sam was reluctant, but said “alright” and we went in. It was very dark and shady — there were no nature trails, nothing. Then, as soon as the shiny object got closer into sight, I immediately realized it was a knife.

“Why would a knife be there?” Sam said as he inched over to it.

“I don’t know!”

I grabbed it — and then another hand grabbed it… not Sam’s…. but a figure that almost like that of a clown. It had black tangled hair… a long bloody smile… but worst of all those eyes… they beamed into my soul. I stumbled back, staring at the man….. and then he lunged at me, stabbing me ‘til blood was running down on the ground. “... Sam… helpp…”

But he just ran away, screaming. The fourth time he stabbed me, I was knocked out cold.

Then I befriended Sam.

[gracesentme]

Hanging on by a Zip Tie

By now you know I’m not a great driver. And if you don’t, sheesh thanks for not paying attention. Rude. One of my accidents over the last 2,000 miles (that’s a bunch of miles, guys) involved another vehicle. Thankfully the other driver and I were uninsured. Ahahaha oh, autocorrect. Uninjured!! My driver’s side bumper took the brunt. I was very near my hotel, so I drove there after all the police report stuff. My bumper was bumping, clackety clack on the ground. An elderly couple and by elderly I mean my age only gray, which I am starting to get, pulled up in the parking spot next to mine. Well, one space away. They left room for the clacker. The woman asked what happened. I confessed. They pitied me. Which is rough and also merciful. The woman told her husband to fix it as much as he could. He went to get supplies from his car. He owned an auto repair shop before retiring. He came back with a big knife and zip ties. I know! I also have seen too many true crime documentaries. In seconds he had cut away the damaged bumper and zip tied the loose wires and declared me good to go. Surgery and sutures and released! My van now looks like a terminator. Half the face ripped off, wiring exposed. But I am safely driving it months later. Yes. Safely. Shut up. Praise the Lord for kind strangers. They blessed me. And said they wished God’s blessing on my journey. Oh, and they were headed to church nearby, to the funeral of a loved one. And yet they stopped. Reminds me of a story.

Praise the Lord for pauses and the binding of wounds.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

Psalm 147:3

Go and do likewise. Me. I need to. And you. Feel free to.

[clockways]

Something about cats that I adore but doubt people who’ve never owned a cat know, they’re practically wind up. Make the right noise and skritch them in the right place and you can take a cat from a lounging lump to frisky kitten in no time flat.

And it is fabulous.

[jojoboisimagines]

Jojo's (1-7) + DIO Reaction to suddenly being called Daddy

A/N: I just had this random thought and now I'm writing a whole hcs for it so look where we ended up- this is mostly just meant to be funny

.::.

Jonathan

You had a pretty bad fall, and Jonathan was quick to come to your side and help you up

"Ahh.." you hold your side, your boyfriend looking terribly concerned

"Thanks, Daddy."

"Darling are you alright---" It takes him a moment to process that

He blinks. "Pardon?"

You say nothing further, only smirking

"Are you feeling alright? Do you really see your father?"

You couldn't not wheeze at that

Joseph

He was showing you some new tricks he had been practicing with his clackers. They were just...alright. Anything that affects the pillar men would help, really. But you had to hype up your man anyway

He had striken a pose, feeling rather proud of himself

"yaasss Daddy~" You clap.

You can tell his face was getting flushed, but he tried to keep his composure with a smirk.

"Hah, I knew you'd call me that sooner or later." He liked it, it was easy to tell

Both of you erupt in laughter

Jotaro

"Daddy could you get me something off that shelf? I'm too short to reach."

He got up, about to do so before pausing, realizing what you just said.

His cheeks were red, tipping his hat down to hide it and play it cool

"Here" he hands the object to you. He figured his best bet was to ignore it and this would never be discussed again

"I'm surprised you didn't complain about me calling you that." You laugh.

He stayed silent. He still wasn't complaining though.

Josuke

Josuke has just threatened to beat up some punk that was hitting on you, the guy rushing off and tripping to get away

The serious look on Josuke's face was everything

"damn, okay Daddy." You remark.

Even though you were standing behind him, you could see him physically tense up

His face was burning, using his hands to cover his embarrassment

"b-babe!" He yelled.

He laughs about it later but putting him on the spot like that really got him

Giorno

He cupped your face, pulling you in for a kiss

His thumb caresses the side of your face, simply staring and admiring your beauty.

"Cara.."

You place a hand on his chest. "More, Daddy."

His eyes widen for a second.

Giorno seemed so romantic in the moment and now he just looks surprised. You couldn't hold back a chuckle.

He laughs with you though.

"You can call me that if you want, I won't stop you."

Johnny

You simply ask him a favor. "Johnny, can you hand me the water canteen for my horse?"

He complies and rolls over to it and brings it back to hand it to you without a word.

"Thanks Daddy."

"No prob babe."

He rolls off nonchalantly.

It takes him a few hours before he thinks about the conversation again and he realizes.

"..wait a minute." He squints his eyes.

DIO

You're scared to call this man Daddy honestly

He might just pin you down and take you right then and there

You know that's his kink. We all know it.

But you still couldn't help yourself. Coming to him while he was studying some book in his library.

"Daddy, I'm bored, give me attention."

He looks back at you, closing the book and resting a hand on your cheek.

"of course, dearest." He smirks. It surely wasn't an innocent smirk, but it could be worse

[beskarberry]

Pink Dahlia

Flowers for Ishtar, Chapter 2

(Nonhuman!Mando x f!Reader) [+18!]

Din sucked marks into the tender skin of your thigh, leaving a trail of faint purple welts. “Always gonna make sure your belly is full, ner sarad, make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

<-Previous Next->

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 8k

Content warnings: Everything from chapter 1 (breeding, pregnancy, eggs, alien junk, etc.) Adding lactation/breastfeeding, cum eating, cockwarming/stuffing, orgasm denial, surprising alien pregnancy side effects, biology changes, nerd moments. There's also a bit of Real Talk regarding the situation but it's quick.

A/N: This is like 98% smut with a nice glob of ooey gooey fluff sprinkled in story glitter because I want to make this a 3 part series and I wasn't ready to end it. Have fun!

The sulfurous mid-afternoon air hung heavily in the old cantina, pushed lazily by the breeze coming in through the open door. Odd-bladed fans did their best to keep the air moving, but the glass of spotchka in Karga’s hand was still sweating with condensation, dripping when he tilted it back to his mouth. Across from him, the lone Mandalorian placed his collection of completed bounties on the counter quickly, seemingly eager to conclude business.

“Surprised to see you here by yourself, Mando. Where’s your partner?” Karga asked, swilling his glass around in one hand, his brow cocked quizzically.

“She’s… not feeling all that well. Told me to come collect for both of us.”

The Guild agent hummed his disapproval, taking a long, thoughtful sip of his drink. “Strange, I don’t think I’ve seen you apart since I teamed you two up. You… you didn’t kill her finally, did you?”

“No!” Mando stammered, raising his palms defensively. “She… she just ate some bad rations is all. She’ll be alright after some rest.”

“Mmm.” A wry smile tugged at the old agent’s lips, a knowing glimmer in his eye. “Well, my friend, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were getting a soft spot for that little lady. But you’re solid beskar all the way through, aren’t you?” Greef’s smile widened devilishly when Mando’s helmet tilted just a bit, a motion that would go unnoticed by any who didn’t know him. “You’re not getting soft on me... are you?”

“No.” Mando lied, fidgeting with the ends of his gloves while Karga eyed him up and down, well aware of the hunter’s tells. The armored hunter usually chose silence over confrontation, and his defensiveness gave away more than words ever could. “Can I just get some new pucks, please?”

“If you insist.” A scattering of fresh pucks clackered to the table after the spent ones disappeared, but the Mandalorian’s thoughts were too occupied with you to give them much consideration as he scooped a handful off the countertop. Collecting his pucks and fobs and credits, Mando bulldozed out of the cantina, ignoring the roaring laughter coming from the familiar booth.

The armored hunter hurried through the streets of Nevarro, only making pit stops to load up on snacks and ration tins, and a very harshly-demanded rancor wrap before heading back to the Crest. Food seemed to be the most rapidly exhausted amenity on the old gunship as of late, because someone...

Was hungry.

It crept up on you at first, the post-passion, post-panic munchies that grew in intensity until you were eating constantly, just like your partner had done just before he went into heat. Something about being full of his eggs was making you insatiable, which made no sense to either of you. You weren’t like him, you were human, but that didn’t seem to matter as you scarfed down the freshly bought tins he’d picked up while you were still on Jedha; the larder nearly empty by the time you reached Nevarro.

Though you were obliterating every edible thing in sight, Mando couldn’t keep his hands off of you when he wasn’t at the controls, lavishing you with affection at the drop of a hat. Hungry? You were fed. Tired? His bed was yours. Muscles achy? Feet hurt? Mando was there in an instant with warm hands and strong fingers.

Horny? You got it.

Almost worse than the need to feed was the need to fuck, your achy, swollen cunt soaking right though your panties at all hours of the cycle. Even sleep offered you no respite, your needy little pussy waking you up with a sinful squelch that made your partner perk up like you were blowing a dog whistle. Not that you could hide it from him anyway, as if you would even want to. It’d become too difficult to get up the ladder to your hammock with your belly full of eggs, though you’d probably just flip the damn thing over, so Mando had offered you his bunk, opting to sleep on the floor like a gentleman. That lasted maybe all of ten minutes, your desperate whines drawing him into the narrow cubby with you to share in the few hours of sleep you managed to get before one of your hungers made demands of him; but he was delighted to be of service no matter the case.

There wasn’t a single surface aboard the Crest that you two didn’t violate, your relentless libido determined to make up for the months of professional abstinence. Hot slick dribbled down the sides of supply crates and over the seat cushions in the cockpit, leaving stains of passion wherever he took you. His unknown species never seemed to lack in the strength and stamina department, hiking you up around his hips to plow you into the wall or rutting you into the floor, always mindful of your womb full of eggs. Once you both almost died when he fucked you so hard against the dashboard that you knocked into the navigation panel, nearly ripping the old gunship out of hyperspace where she would certainly be shredded into durasteel confetti.

Your armored companion was just as insatiable as you were, and honestly a little surprised you still wanted his attention. He didn’t think you would want him again after stuffing you full of his eggs, only to get them stuck in you. For years he had convinced himself his otherworldly anatomy was undesirable, especially whenever he needed to floss the teeth between his legs.

But you, you were starstruck. Your eyes lit up like fireworks every time his basement biters split apart, hands and mouth and cunt getting greedy with his bits. You and Mr. Wiggler were becoming best friends, the blue monstrosity joyfully rising to the occasion every time you stuffed your hand down the Mandalorian’s pants, and you were quickly becoming an expert at finding what drove him bonkers.

It was a delightful few days of experimentation, your full womb jiggling with laughter whenever you found a new button on him to press. His favorite seemed to be when you took his glowing girth in your mouth, flicking your tongue between each of the petals on his tip with your fingers buried to the hilt in his weeping pussy, unreasonably delicious nectar flowing right into your greedy mouth. Sluuuurp.

Mando also loved to have you above him, swollen as you were with his potential offspring, your mighty visage cresting above him like a ship hitting the waves. From behind his visor his lust-drunk eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from the sight of you, your heavy womb only matched by the sway of your breasts, bouncing with fullness as you rode him or swinging wildly when he fucked you from behind.

Those he worshiped like no other, cupping them in his wide palms where they sat so heavily, pinching and rolling your nipples until you sang. Maybe it was the excitement of getting to finally have you for himself, to indulge in every fantasy he’d been keeping secret during your hunts together, but he could swear your breasts got bigger every damn day.

You’d noticed their growth too, but you chalked it up to demolishing every edible thing aboard over the short jaunt to Nevarro. Though you were heavy with his clutch you could tell your womb and your breasts weren’t the only thing getting just a little bit softer, your persistent snacking becoming a bit noticeable in other areas too; especially where dark purple stretch marks were beginning to show. Thankfully Mando didn’t seem to mind your weight at all, hauling you above him while he dug his heels into the deck, spearing his cock up into you like it was his last day alive.

He loved how your warmth spilled between his fingers and over the sides of his legs, the way your ass jiggled right in his face. He adored the sound of his body meeting yours, your perfect little moans and the slap of skin on skin, the way you threw your head back when he emptied his load into your womb, painting the batch of eggs in even more of his juices. Stuffed full of his cock to keep his cum from spilling, the pair of you would trail your hands over each other, basking in golden afterglow for as long as you could before the fire in your groin reignited, demanding more from your tireless companion.

It was… nice, and a little strange having someone so devoted to your needs. You were enamored with the man that Mando was turning into, or maybe just the man he had always been, his softer side kept secret to maintain your professional relationship coming out in full force to care for his buir’ika, as he called you from time to time. His intimacy surprised you, though maybe you were more surprised with how much you liked it, how much you craved his affections.

How much you were craving him right now.

Alone on the ship, you were stretched out in Mando’s bunk, trying to ignore the rumbling in your guts that echoed throughout the hold like a dying bantha. You’d opted to stay on the Razor while he took care of business since the last person in the galaxy you wanted to see you right now was Karga. Nobody gossiped like that old coot, and the last thing you needed was for him to catch his two best hunters with the evidence of their lovemaking so plainly in view.

You were dressed in nothing but one of Mando’s long sleeve shirts and your undies, having given up entirely on being able to zip your pants closed, but the recycled air felt blessedly cool on your body. Idly you stroked your swollen middle, rolling onto your other side and humming at the pleasant feeling of your partner’s clutch sloshing around inside your belly.

They felt so lovely inside of you, and you were almost disappointed that they would bear you no fruit. Kids had never been on your mind, you were a hunter, after all, and for your safety and peace of mind you’d gotten a contraceptive implant put in your arm ages ago. But laying there in the comfort of Mando’s bed, your belly full of his seed, the scent of him all over your body, your skin alive with his lingering touch, you couldn't help but imagine...

The Razor Crest’s ramp hissed as it opened, startling you to huddle deeper into the alcove lest you caught the attention of wandering eyes. From your hiding place you watched your partner enter the ship, the ramp closing quickly behind him.

“I got you those wraps you wanted, buir’ika.” Din said proudly, striding to where you were scooting to the edge of the bed to hand you the steamy, foil-wrapped package like he’d hunted it himself. You barely got a ‘thank you’ out before you were stuffing it in your hungry gob, wolfing it down like it was your first meal in days.

“You get- *nomf*- any more bounties?” You asked with a full mouth, finishing the last bite and licking the grease from your fingers.

“Of course, mesh’la, but first how are you? Besides hungry…” He reached up to your face, carefully brushing a tidbit of rancor from the side of your lip. His gloved fingers curled under your chin, briefly debating on pushing the bit of food into your mouth, but thought better of it since his gloves were probably gross.

You nuzzled into his hand, batting your lashes when his helmet tilted. “I’m alright, tired more than anything, and I feel like a bantha.” You jiggled your belly, full of food and potential, sticking your tongue out at yourself. Mando’s leather palm came up to caress his handiwork, gliding slowly over your swell. Under his helmet he was beaming, a big boyish smile stretching from ear to ear at the sight of you.

You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life, so soft and strong and rounded with his eggs. His soul had become jaded to the idea of having a mate and a brood of his own long ago, but for the first time in decades he felt the flicker of hope. It was a pipe dream, of course, without another to fertilize you it was just a swelling in your womb; but he loved the intangible fantasy of seeing your beauty in his offspring’s faces.

His hidden smile faded at the reminder that this was nothing but an illusion, and a dangerous one at that. Your insatiable appetites might only be the beginning of your symptoms, and he was terrified to think that something so endearing could also be fatal.

“Mesh’la,” he said tentatively, his hands returning to his own personal space. “Once… once night falls we can get down to my clan, someone there will know what to do. Or if they don’t they'll find someone who does. Discreetly, of course.”

“Oh. Right.” You looked away from him, crossing your arms between your belly and your breasts, wincing at the tenderness in them that you didn’t need him to know about. Worrying your lip and toying with the edges of your sleeves, you looked back up at him with big doe eyes. “Mando?”

“Yes, verd’ika?”

“It’s just that I… don’t... don’t you want me to hold on to these?” You stammered, making up an excuse on the spot.

Yes. “No, they’ve been in there for days. They’re having some kind of effect on your body, and I’m worried about your health.”

“What if we run into another one of your kind? You said you only make a clutch every couple of years, and our life expectancy as hunters isn’t that-”

“There are no others of my kind.” He resigned, his hands tightening into fists. It hurt, knowing he was the end of his evolutionary line, living each day on the brink of extinction. For many moons he had hoped that one of his bounties would lead him to another, but not once did he ever see the same eyes that he had in another's face.

And he knew he never would.

Nodding solemnly, you leaned forward from where you sat on the end of the bed until your face met with the cold plate of armor that protected his heart, the hexagonal imprint denting your cheek. “Alright, if you say so.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, lovingly drawing circles on your back, the sharp edge of his helmet resting on the top of your head. You hooked your own arms around his waist, his narrow hips the perfect width for you to pull him closer.

The moment was both tense and intimate, the truth locked away in each of your hearts, confessions of adorations behind each of your lips. You were supposed to be hunters, not lovers, or at least that’s what you were both telling yourselves. Attachment was dangerous in your line of work, and the last thing either of you wanted to do was break the other's heart.

There were a thousand and one things you could say to him, but your body had other things on its one-track mind:

You were still horny.

Mando jumped when you pinched his ass, his visor snapping down at you with confusion and surprise. You looked up at him and waggled your brows, grabbing two greedy handfuls of his rear. “Well, chrome dome, you wanna take advantage of my bantha belly one more time before it ends and we have to wait for your next heat?”

That was a loaded goddamn question that the answer was obviously yes to, but high above the heat pooling in his groin another ray of sunshine beamed through his ribs and poured molten gold over his speeding heart.

You wanted his next clutch, too.

Warm, devious laughter rumbled in Din’s chest, happy to indulge your every whim. “I’d like that, what can I do to please you, ner buir’ika?”

You giggled up at him, pressing yourself closer to his body, your full breasts right at the perfect height to feel his other smile widening. “Actually, I want to try something…” He looked down at you quizzically, the hazy cabin lights streaking over his beskar like shooting stars. A sinful grin crept across your face, your lip caught between your teeth, eyes full of something devious. Your hands snuck to his belt, undoing the heavy contraption and letting it fall loudly to the floor, the leather and buckles scraping as he kicked it away.

Though he wasn’t in heat, the smell of his sex was still strong, warm and rich and inviting. You pulled the zipper down slowly, giggling devilishly when his hands came up to rest on your shoulders, his thumbs digging into your collarbone with anticipation. Mando’s multipurpose manhood flopped deliciously from his pants, the big blue bastard pulsating in your hand, swelling quickly to meet your every desire.

Teasing him with one hand, you reached down to find the edge of your shirt, pulling it up just past the curve of your belly so it bunched over your breasts. Mando groaned when you leaned forward and stuffed the weeping blossom of his cock up between your tits so it poked out the collar and bumped into your open mouth.

His hips bucked slowly, indulging in the feeling of your supple flesh gripping his length, his careful thrusts rewarded by a lap of your tongue between his petals. You groped his ass in time with his movements, squeezing his perfect, muscular buns and drawing him in closer.

“So… s-soft…” he stuttered, his singular black eye staring down at you. You winked and sucked one of the lobes on his tip, giving it a threatening nibble and making him jump. He growled at you, reaching down to cup your breasts and press them around his velvet spire, thrusting harder against your sternum.

Too much. Your sensitive bosom and squashed bantha belly were all starting to hurt, and not in a fun way. You gave Mr. Wiggler another sloppy wet kiss, pulling your mouth off of him with a vacuuming slurp. Leaning back made the alien member slick its juices down your sternum, which you evilly dragged your finger through to bring the ambrosial precum up to taste. You giggled up at him, the lecherous *pop!* of you pulling your finger from your mouth echoing through the hold. “I love how you taste, but I know I’m not the only one here that’s hungry, tinman.”

Mando growled at the implications, leaning his weight on each of your thighs til his abdomen was brushing your swell, his visor inches from your face. “Are you asking me to taste you too?” You nodded, doing a seductive little wiggle underneath him that made his cock bob for joy. Between your legs he rutted gently against your heat, stoking the fire that was already blazing. “Fucking stars, you’re on fire.”

“All for you, big boy.” You leaned all the way back, letting your arms fall behind your head and hooking your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Over the swell of your belly you couldn’t see much, a fact that you were both eager to exploit. “Promise I won’t look…” He rumbled at you fondly, but still snuck a hand over to the button panel on the wall, dimming the lights to near darkness.

Stuffed between your bare thighs, Mando rolled his hips into yours, holding your swell lovingly, feeling his clutch moving inside you in time with his dance. He adored the sight even through his visor, the roundness of you, the little seam that was visible below your belly button, even the stretch marks that were purpling around your hips. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but those seemed to grow darker each time he saw them, and he made a mental note to visit the local Twi’lek healing baths to get you some lotion.

Though he was only a silhouette in the darkness, you flinched when you felt his fingers trace the marks encircling your hips and streaking down your flanks. “Won’t miss those, that’s for sure…” you whispered, your voice heavy with self-consciousness. Din hummed lazily, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find them somewhat attractive, mostly because they reminded him of his own luminous stripes.

“I think you're perfect no matter how you look.” He purred, his weight pushing against your belly when he leaned down to caress your face. “You’re as beautiful carrying my clutch as you are on the hunt, and I can never take my eyes off of you. Not that I’d want to.” In the darkness your blush wouldn’t have been visible to the naked eye, but on his thermal scanner your cheeks lit up like the blossoms of a rose.

“And I think you’re cheesy.” You deflected, trying to avoid his gaze. “Maker for someone who doesn't talk all that much you sure have a way with words.” He only laughed more deeply, the first twinges of lust creeping into the brassy edge of his modulated voice. The mechanical sound wormed a question into your cerebral cortex, one you’d been meaning to ask for a long time. “Mando, what… what happens if you take your helmet off in front of someone?”

“I just can’t ever put it back on again.” He said coldly, a little taken aback by your question in the heat of the moment.

That’s dumb. “What if someone takes it off of you?”

“Well,” he started, trailing his hands down from your face to your slick-covered breasts, teasing his thumbs around where your nipples were already growing hard for him. “I would either have to kill them, or marry them.”

“Oh.” You moaned with surprise when he pinched one of your tender buds between his fingers, but the intense sensation couldn’t distract you from that little nugget of information that he’d just dropped. Guess I’m never seeing his face then. Alright. You started trying to come up with more questions to ask, but he was taking greedy handfuls of your sore breasts, making you writhe uncomfortably. “Ah… ah-ouch!”

“I’m sorry, are you alright?”

“My boobs hurt…” You whined, reaching up to cradle your tender titties. “Be gentle with them.”

His hands reflexively floated away. “I can stop if you-”

“No, don’t stop, just be gentle.” Mando quickly teased his gloves off before returning to your chest, his warm palms soothing even through the shirt. With his heavy cock still pushed against your groin, he slowly massaged your supple flesh with the same softness he would use to lull a lothkitten to sleep. His gentle administrations had you rolling your hips into his, dragging your clothed heat across throbbing cock.

He swayed with you, gyrating slowly, teasing your needy little cunt to focus on where you needed him most. Mando’s gunslinger hands worked magic into your mounds, even more so when he snuck them under the hem of your shirt to drag his calloused fingers over your skin.

“Still feel alright, cyar’ika?” He mused, pinching your nipples between the knuckles of his fingers, rolling them carefully between his strong digits.

“Y-yeah, but they'd feel even better if you put them in your mouth, I know you wanna~” You felt him perk up between your legs, his alien cock throbbing at the thought of getting a taste. “Y’know what, watch this trick.” You reached down and grabbed the edge of your shirt, pulling it up all the way until it was over your head, trapping your eyes and arms, your glistening breasts spilling out in front of his eyes. “Ta-da.”

You made sparkle fingers like you’d just pulled a magic trick, wiggling them high above your head. Inside the black longsleeve you couldn’t see a damn thing, let alone any of the features belonging to the man hovering just inches away. It was silly, but it worked.

“Is that… comfortable?” He asked with a hint of a laugh that only grew stronger when you said that it was. “Promise you won’t look?”

“Well, I like not dying. That’s cool and fashionable these days, I hear.” You said, enunciating with your hands.

That’s not... the only option. He bit his lip in a smile and tugged his helmet off, setting the heavy beskar down on the floor near his feet. You giggled when you heard more of his armor coming off, first the sound of his chest plate and pauldrons, then the weight of his canvas coat and pants flumping to the floor. His bare, hairy thighs scratched against the insides of your own when he returned to you, making you shudder. The warmth of his body and the scrape of his fuzz always made you forget his inhumanity until you felt his thick cock lay on your soggy panties, his groin close enough that his teeth could graze your skin.

“Well, hello Mr. Bitey, is someone...hungry?” you crooned from under your shirt-fort, shimmying like a snack just begging to be eaten.

“Starving.” Mando snarled, dragging the bristles of his face along your leg, then up over your tummy, planting kisses every few inches along your prickling flesh. As his kisses got higher you couldn’t help but arch your back into his hot, plush lips, squirming excitedly when he teased around your nipple. He took his sweet time with each one, pressing his lips longer and slower to the flesh of your areola, his nose bumping your sensitive peaks and coaxing little moans from your lips. “You always sound so delicious, and I bet you taste just as well.”

Helpless, you threaded your fingers through your own hair, lost in the darkness the shirt provided. A sinful little mewl creeped out of your throat when he hovered juuuust above your bud, fanning the hot steam of his breath over your near-burning flesh. “Mando, plea-”

“Din.”

“Din...ner? Dinner? Yeah I could eat more, but I’d rather-”

“No, mesh’la, my name is Din.” was the last thing he said before he slurped your nipple into his mouth, nearly making you scream. Fucking stars his mouth was a furnace. Wet with saliva and hot with need, his clever lips and sharpish teeth turned your body into putty that he worked like a sculptor. You keened when he bit down and sucked, almost making you see stars.

“Feel good?” He mumbled around a mouthful of you, the arms that caged you in flexing slightly when he tried to swallow you whole.

“Mand-...Din! Din, don’t s-stop!” You whined breathlessly, digging your heels into the backs of his knees, forcing him to rut against your sweltering heat, the petals of his blossom licking up your belly. If you had any braincells left you might have pulled your arms from your sleeve prison and reached down to stroke him, but he was turning you into a pile of incoherent mush, not that you were complaining. Under his weight your full womb was starting to ache from the pressure, and for a moment you thought that if he wasn’t careful he would alleviate the need for you to seek help at all. “P-p-panties…”

His lips pulled from your flesh with a greedy *pop!* “But cyar’ika, you taste so fucking good.” The lull in sensation gave you just enough willpower to fiddle with the shirt on your head, pulling your arms free and hiking the collar up to just under your eyes. With your hands freed you clawed at your waistband, lifting your butt off the bed so you could tear the soaked fabric off. Nimble fingers tangled desperately with your own, peeling the cotton away and making you shudder when the cool air met your volcanic heat.

“Such a perfect sight, so fucking beautiful, all full of my eggs and dripping with need. Never get tired of seeing you blooming for me.” Warm fingers danced up your skin, his lips kissing his way to the treasure between your legs, the bristles of his mustache making you shiver. Din sucked marks into the tender skin of your thigh, leaving a trail of faint purple welts. “Always gonna make sure your belly is full, ner sarad, make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

His chin hovered just above your curls, taking a moment to plant a kiss on your womb, humming his adoration into your swell. Lifting your legs he spread you out before him like a feast, and you couldn���t help but laugh when you heard him suck his spit down.

“I’m gonna eat you all gone, beautiful, would you like that?” You nearly moaned your consent, the pitch of your voice rising another octave when he threw your legs over his shoulders and dove down to suck on your throbbing clit. Din mumbled something about the taste of you, fucking his tongue into your cunt, dragging the smooth muscle up your slit to spin circles on the sensitive little pearl that was turning you into a writhing, squirming mess.

Your legs locked around his shoulders, making his beard scratch the marks he’d left on your thighs. His lust-filled laugh rumbled right through your core when you arched your back off the bed, thrusting yourself into his face, your spine twisting even harder when one of his long fingers snuck up inside. You were spiralling, grabbing your own breasts to keep them from hitting you in the face, the heavy things bouncing from him fingerfucking you. One finger was joined by a second, their tips curling up into the devilish patch of nerves and pushing you right to the breaking point.

“Ah, Din! I’m gon-gonna-!” Din sucked your orgasm from you, his hungry mouth making obscene noises between your legs til you were crying for him to stop. Desperately you reached down around your belly to grab his hair, tugging him away from his feasting so you could fucking breathe.

“N’ver tasted anything so damn good.” He purred from between your legs, coming up slowly for air. “Want you on top of me, wanna taste your tits while I fuck you senseless.” His hands wormed under your back and legs, pulling you into his body so you straddled his waist, his length squished between your bellies. You couldn’t help stealing yourself a few kisses, his hair tickling your nose when you nibbled his ear.

He hugged you to his chest and spun you both around, his ass hitting the bed with the force of your combined weight. Din’s hot mouth found your own, laughing against your lips at your blindfold situation, but you didn’t care. He was delicious, his lips full and flush from getting to taste you, his mustache scratching your face slightly in his heated passion, but he was careful not to undo the shirt covering your eyes.

You looked unbelievably foolish, especially when you broke away from him to grab the sleeves, tying them in a knot behind your head like you were wearing the world’s worst ninja costume. Even with your oversized blindfold you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, your voluptuous figure eclipsing the Crest’s scattered lights, outlining you in a sea of stars.

You brushed your fingers through the hair on his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress and rolled your hips to notch him in your silken folds, sinking down around him with a sinful sigh. “Fuck, yes Din, Din, Din!” you panted, savoring the taste of his juicy secret, his name like honey on your lips.

“I love- how you say my name, sweetheart. Let me hear you beg for me.” He leaned back and canted his hips up into you, dragging his cock through your walls and making your breasts sway right in front of his face. Hypnotized by the gorgeous dewdrops, his lips parted to suck the hardened tip of one into his mouth, a delighted groan rumbling through his chest that felt like an earthquake between your legs.

“Din! Din yes please, Din!” The short syllable tumbled from your lips like a song, your voice like music to his pointy ears. You writhed and bucked with each pull of his mouth, stuttering his name as if it was the only word you knew. His angular nose and sharp chin dug into the flesh of your breast, the combination of pain and pleasure bringing tears to your eyes. Your neck arched when his hand snaked down under the curve of your womb to curl a fingertip against your clit, giving you something to grind on. “Yes!!! Din yes yes...ah~!!”

His expert fingers teased you right over the edge, soaking his cock with a delectable squelch. Usually he rode your orgasm out with you, gently rubbing circles around your button to milk every drop, but for the first time in days he was motionless. You whined at the lack of friction, trying to glare daggers through the fabric over your eyes to where he was experimentally lapping at your nipple. “Fu-fuckin’... hey. Tinman what’s-”

“You’re leaking.”

“Yeah I just came.”

“No, cyar’ika, your… your breast is leaking.” Blindsided, you nearly tore the shirt off of your head in your confusion, but his heavy hand came up to cover your eyes.

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and expect me not to look! The fuck do you mean it’s leaking!?”

“Give me your hand.” You rocked back onto his cock, letting him take your hand and pressing your fingers to your breast, tweaking your nipple. You gasped when something warm and sticky beaded between your fingers that wasn’t from his mouth. “I… um… I think you’re lactating.”

“W h a t.” You gave yourself another experimental squeeze, cupping your whole breast to coax more milk from the tip. “Are you fucking kidding me. The fuck is in those eggs?! First I’m hungrier than a goddamn Hutt and now you’re telling me I’m lactating!? If I didn’t know better I’d say I was actually pregnant! You’re sure those eggs of yours weren’t fertilized?”

“My spermatophores are vaginal, they’re located outside of the entrance to my womb.” He stated like he was hosting a nature documentary. “Another one of my kind would have to put their eggs in me, and vice versa for there to be conception. And no, I can’t fertilize my own eggs. I’ve... tried.”

“Spec-fuckin-tacular.” You groaned, rubbing at your temples. “No wonder my goddamn boobies hurt so much, they’re full. How long until nightfall?”

“It’s only mid afternoon.” He said softly, but you heard him lick his lips. “I… would… be happy to… hmm. empty those for you, i-if you’re ok with that.” His fingertips danced lightly around your sticky nipple before you heard the sound of him licking them clean.

“I mean, if you don’t think it’s... weird… Feels nice to have your mouth on them, it makes the pain stop.”

“Mesh’la. You are full of my eggs, I think we’re beyond weird, don’t you?” Giggling, you nodded, your head rolling back when he latched onto your teat again. You sobbed with relief at the feeling of him drinking you, his own filthy moans vibrating along your skin.

Din had never tasted anything so divine. The flavor of you was an instant addiction, sweet and wholesome on his tongue as your milk pooled in his mouth. Above him you were a panting, sweltering mess, bouncing on his cock like a nexu in heat, the molten firestorm of your pussy demanding attention while he suckled at your breast.

“Oh fuck yes just like that, Din!” You begged, squishing him beneath you while you rode him, pressing your heavy breast into his eager mouth. His tongue spun circles around your tip, lapping and sucking down the milk that was now flowing so readily. Wide, calloused palms drove you down on his otherworldly spear, the clever little petals on his tip circling around your cervix like it was trying to leave you more gifts. Naughty thing.

“You like this, cyar’ika? You think you can come on my cock just from my mouth?” Din purred, his voice dripping with lust, and probably you. He held you by your thighs, stopping you from chasing your own high that was so fucking close. You were about to rip him a new one when he pulled your other nipple into his mouth, licking the dribbling milk from your swollen tit, savoring every drop.

“F-fuckin’ jerk, such a d-damn...tease!” You wailed when you felt teeth nibbling on your breast, making your milk spill down his throat. Inside your walls clenched and fluttered around his cock like they were trying to suck more eggs from him, desperate for him to move, but he held steadfast.

“Come for me, beautiful, come for me and I’ll fuck that pretty little cunt raw.” He mumbled around you in a milk-drunk drawl. You leaned heavily over him, your fingers digging into his thickly muscled shoulders while his dug into your hips. His cock throbbed inside of you, furious with the man it was attached to for denying everyone’s orgasms, but unfortunately he was right.

He could make you come with just his mouth.

Din drank deeply from you, letting go of your leg to squeeze the fat of your breast, coaxing more to flow into his hungry gob. When his teeth tweaked your tip again you were sent, bearing down on him with the force of a hurricane. Under you he stuttered and whined, convulsing from the strength of your pussy drenching him in your arousal.

You leaned back, stealing your perfect tits away from him. “Keep your promise, buckethead. Fuck me like you mean it, breed me, make me yours~” Your words dripped with desire, your hips grinding into him, the sweat on your brow soaking the fabric tied around your face. Blood pounded in your ears, your chest, your cunt, your entire body beating to the rhythm of his filthy cadence. You’d fuck him forever if he let you, but between your legs Din wasn’t moving.

Again.

You slumped your shoulders and cocked your head, the sleeves flopping forwards like bunny ears. “...Din?”

“Um… your breasts.”

“Please tell me they’re not doing something else.” For a moment he was silent, the steady beat of his heart felt against the cradle of your womb, but other than that he was still. “Well? Spit it out!”

“Your nipples are glowing.”

“Bullshit.” You crossed your arms under your breasts, making them dribble with milk. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Next he’s gonna tell me I’m growing teeth. “Fuck you mean glowing?”

“They’re purple.” He whispered, his hands coming up to caress the sticky wet tips. “They’re... beautiful.”

“Cockamamey bullshit.” you hissed, hauling yourself off his throbbing member, clambering around so that you were facing his feet. He moaned like a little whore when you sat back down on him, your hungry cunt swallowing every inch of his big blue eel, but you had more important matters to attend to. You ripped your blindfold off and chucked it through the cabin, not caring where it landed, and gasped.

On your chest two faint, pinky-purple lights swayed on the tips of your breasts, surrounded by freckles of soft starlight, their luminescence dulled slightly by the milk that still dribbled over your skin. You stared at them like you were making eye contact with motherfucking mothman, cupping and dropping your boobs, mesmerized by their new ability to glow in the goddamn dark.

Under you the gentle ruts from your partner were hard to ignore, but now that you had your eyes free you could see his own bioluminescent stripes spiralling down his legs. Your brain short-circuited when you made the connection:

You matched.

“Cyar’ika?” He asked tentatively, his wide palms circling your hips. “Is everything ok?”

You laughed, that manic, ‘this-might-as-well-happen’ laugh that sent a chill through Din’s spine. “Yeah, buckethead, I’m dandy. My nip-nops are just radioactive, no big deal!” You grabbed his knees, supporting yourself while you laughed, watching your lanterns sway over your egg-filled womb. “Fuck me sideways, you could have at least warned me this would happen.”

“That’s never happened before, but nobody’s ever...carried for me either. We can stop, let’s-”

“Ohhh no, mister, I’m not done with you.” You scooted a leg back and pulled one of his up, making him bend his knee. “‘My SpErMaTaPhOrEs ArE vaGiNaL’ he says, fucking nerd. Well, let's see if I can find them.” Din whimpered when you stuffed a hand between his legs, sinking your fingers into his toothy taint. You weren’t really sure what you were looking for, but he loved how deep you were both getting, him thrusting his cock up into your weeping pussy while you played around with his.

“Mesh’laaaa~!” Behind you his head rolled back, his abdominal muscles convulsing and kinking his spine. Grabbing his bent leg, you lifted your butt up just enough for him to thrust, holding his shaking thigh between your lit-up ladies.

"Need to get you some toys, mister, get in there real deep.” You growled, pressing your fingertips into the spongy spot on his walls. “Would'ya like that, big boy? Want me to stuff a fat cock in you? Make you mine?" Inside his muscles were going berserk at the thought of you bending him over, his walls clenching and spasming, his orgasm right at the tip of your fingers. "Be a good boy and cum for me."

You heard him cry out behind you, his hands clawing into the dips of your hips as he cascaded over the edge, the sound of your name pouring from his lips like a prayer of devotion to your altar of sin. Thick ambrosia spurted from his cerulean cock, frothing back out and coursing like molten lava around where your hand was buried. His flushed, fluttering hole tried to suck your fingers in deeper, his slick fangs curling around your wrist to hold you in place.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly you teased your fingers from his pulsating jaws, shivering at the scrape along your skin. Though it was dim in the cabin, you could still see the glistening slick trickling down your fingers, stringy trails of cum catching the light from your nipples when you stuffed them in your mouth to lick yourself clean. “Fuck me you're delicious.”

“Again? Give me at least ten minutes, cyar’ika.” He chuckled, his mirth making your ass jiggle against his tummy. “Stars, how did I get so lucky?” Din asked, his voice hoarse from unloading his entire soul into you. “Are your breasts ok?”

“Much better, thank you. Though they’re still looking at me.” You said with a laugh, easing yourself off of his softening member. The sloppy thing bounced against your butt as you crawled out of the bunk, holding your hand up to your eyes. “I’m not peeking!”

“Thank you.” He mumbled, watching you tuck into the dimly-lit fresher, listening to you turn the shower on. He sighed and stretched, dragging his fingers over the expanse of his chest, giving himself goosebumps in his post-euphoric afterglow. He thought about joining you, but that would mean keeping the lights off, and in your rounded state your grace had gone right out the window. Best just let her be.

When you stepped out of the shower the lights had come back on inside the ship, making you squint from being in the dark for so long. Cradling your belly, you walked on steamy steps to where your re-armored lover was cleaning up the mess you had both made of the bed and pressed a kiss to the side of his helmet. “Thanks for the ride, tinman.”

“Any time, beautiful.” His fingers cupped under your chin, holding you where he could press the brow of his helmet to your own forehead, rumbling with adoration. “Are they still glowing?” You circled a wet boob with your palms, the faint light just barely visible in the dark of your hands. He laughed with disbelief, “That’s… that's amazing. I wonder if they’ll keep glowing after those eggs come out.”

“Would be pretty cool, makes for one hell of a party trick.” Your giggle turned into a yawn, stretching your arms out and making everything on you bounce delightfully. “I want a nap." You mumbled, rubbing at your eyes like a sleepy child. "Wake me up once it’s dark out? Or join me, I don’t mind cuddling.”

“Someone needs to be awake in case Karga comes knock-” His sentence trailed off, his helmet tilting slowly, the opaque blade of his visor locked on to your face, the intensity of it trying to burn a hole through your skull.

Furrowing your brows, you matched the cock of his head, looking like a confused wet puppy. “What, what’s wrong? Are my eyes glowing too, now? Please say no...” His hands floated up to your cheek, his thumb circling under your eye, pulling the lid down slightly. You groaned, “Ugh, I know, these bags are not designer, but I'm tired. You would too if you were this preggers.” You drummed on your belly, the hollow reverb of it echoing like a ripe melon, but your beskar-burdened buddy was not amused.

“Yea… you look... tired. Get some rest, I-I’ll get you up at sundown.” His modulated voice was flat and suspicious, a stark contrast to the adoration he had been pouring over you just moments ago.

“Oh...ok.” You smiled at him a little dryly, turning to the bunk and throwing a fresh sheet over the thin mattress. Din helped you crawl up into the cubby, secretly adoring the way you just kinda flopped down on the bed, your arms and legs drained from making love to him. You mooed your best bantha impression at him with a giggle, pulling a blanket all the way up to your nose. “Hey, Din?”

“Yes cyar’ika?”

“This whole… thing we have going, it’s not going to change anything between us, is it? Can we still hunt together?”

“Of course.” He cooed, his thumb drawing little circles around your ankle. “There’s nobody I would rather have by my side than you. Let me know if you need me, or if anything else starts to light up, ok?”

“Ok. Thanks, I… I wouldn't want to hunt with anyone else, either.” His loving demeanor brought fresh warmth to your cheeks, which you wiped at to try to hide as though his thermal scanners weren’t picking them up like fireworks. He bobbed his head at you as a way of saying 'sweet dreams' and pressed the button on the wall, letting the cubby door slide down so you could get some sleep.

Without your eyes on him he shuddered, the butterflies in his stomach kicking up a tornado of emotions. He didn’t know what he was feeling, it felt good but also sickening, like the first time he’d flown a ship through hyperspace to meet the stars for himself.

It was exhilarating, the terror, the adrenaline, the joy, all boiled together into a cauldron of emotions that he was struggling to understand. But under all of that seethed something darker, something selfish and frightening, poisoning his heart with shame.

The bags under your eyes weren’t the only things he had seen on your face.

You had enough on your plate right now, with a belly full of his eggs and the milk leaking from your tits over your glow-in-the-dark nipples. He was surprised you hadn’t gone berserk and tried to kill him from being overwhelmed, but that’s what he liked so much about you to begin with, you were strong. Tough. Beautiful.

Radiant.

But as steadfast as you were, he didn’t want to add any more stress to your pile, letting you sleep peacefully as if you weren’t going to play with your blinker boobs for another half hour or so. He paced the cabin, his thoughts going back to your face. To your eyes.

You’d find out eventually, as soon as you passed a mirror or a window, or even stared too long at his beskar the secret would be out, but at least you will have gotten some rest beforehand. He fidgeted with his gloves, wary of the clock that seemed to be drowning in molasses, haunted, delighted, terrified by what he’d seen.

Because your eyes, your beautiful, sleepy, half-blinded, lust blown eyes had changed. The roundness of your pupil bent where the iris was forming new angles, its colorful edges spreading over the darkening sclera that had once been as white as snow.

Din didn’t believe what he had seen, maybe it was a trick of the light or a symptom of his exhaustion, but to him it looked like your human eyes were slowly being replaced with something strange and new and hauntingly familiar that filled his chest with ill-begotten hope and much-deserving fear.

Your eyes didn’t look like your own anymore.

They looked like his.

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[fauzhee10069]

JoJolion chapter 110: Josefumi Joestar & the ‘sorta hanging’ ending

(Spoiler Alert! If you haven’t read it, I suggest you to read it soon)

Resuming the struggle between Lucy and Fumi against 「Radio Gaga」…

JJL chapter 110: The Radio Gaga Incident - part 2

Lucy also discovers her chauffeur's corpse crushed between the plates. Lucy realizes that the driver is barely kept alive by the guard rail creature on purpose. At the same time, the guard rail speaks and calls them out on wanting to leave the driver behind. Fumi tries to punch the driver to keep him away, but an intestine emerges from the rail guard and ensnares Fumi by the neck. As Fumi starts getting dragged into the guard rail, he desperately grabs onto the plates to survive.

I guess, 「Radio Gaga」 attacks the target by sucking their clothes (and the target themselves). Even if you managed to get away by stripping your clothes, a controlled accident will happen when any vehicle runs quickly to hit you. Your instinct to dodge it will cause you to be eventually sucked in by the guard rail. Then you become 'half-dead' like that chauffeur, controlled by 「Radio Gaga」 to grab new prey! That’s what I get from this Stand.

Lucy notices the Joestar Birthmark on Fumi’s shoulder. As his face comes into contact with the guard rail, Lucy tells Fumi that he surely can start the car's engine from where he is, guessing that he must have an ability.

Fumi takes his geta and throws it at the car, hitting the car's trunk and opening it. Lucy's items burst out of the trunk, and Fumi grabs onto an electric cord. Vines appear around Fumi's arm and use the cord to reach the car and start the engine. The car then slams into the guard rail. Fumi finds a pair of clackers and wonders what it is. He tosses them aside, preferring to fully unleash his Stand and pummel the guard rail.

So much OG Joseph’s references

The rail snaps off, and the creature flees, slithering away on the hill. Fumi runs away as well, carrying Lucy on his back.

Turns out that Fumi is Joseph Joestar in JoJolion. Just like the OG Joseph, he lives with grandma RIna in S City (so, they live in Japan), his grandpa (Johnny) was long dead. I wonder why he lives in Japan with his grandma, where are his parents? Are they still alive or not? I wonder what’s their story like in this universe?

According to family tree, Joseph’s parents are George and Elizabeth, George is half-Japanese from his mother side (Rina) but Elizabeth? Is she fully western or half-Japanese like George as well? (I hope the former though, too much similarity is not really fun). But if George is married to a westerner (Elizabeth), what is the history of Joseph living in Japan with his grandma?

As they run, Lucy briefly spots Tooru busy digging up two Locacaca trees in the orchard nearby. Lucy tries to shout, but she coughs blood again, distracting Joseph and allowing Tooru to disappear without a trace.

I thought Tooru was completely done in his last chapter (108), kinda glad that he appears in this flashback as well, though it’s not so much… I will talk about it later. At least, he is already there in 1941, wearing the exact same clothes, his fashion sense hasn't changed in 70 years (LOL). In his backstory back in chapter 99, that's why his mother wore a kimono, giving the impression that the event actually happened very long time ago.

from left to right

Lucy's health condition was getting worse and that she was unable to return to Japan again. Worried about her health, Joseph accompanied her back to America. However, he was no longer able to return to Japan as the US entered WW II and the Pacific Ocean route got blocked. Joseph worked as Lucy's assistant, received an education, and earned citizenship in New York.

Three years later, after the "Radio Ga Ga" incident (1941), Lucy has died of a lung disease.

Then, Joseph met and married a woman named Suzi Q from the Speedwagon Foundation in 1952 and thus, Holy was born.

So in the end, just like OG Joseph, this Joseph also lived in the US with Lucy, his other grandma (which I would like to talk about it more later), and possibly also present when Lucy was passing away. This also means that Lucy died at the age of 68 years in 1944. Later Joseph had his married life there (which happened after Lucy’s death).

It's also a pretty sad that Lucy couldn't finish her research on Locacaca. Is that why Holy continued that research in honor of Lucy??

Meanwhile, Higashikata Norisuke IV took control of the family in 1993 and the Higashikata Fruit Company's business prospered, importing fruits from overseas started from his reign. Jobin was born in 1979, this implying that Norisuke III was still around when his son married with Caato, just like Jobin married with Mitsuba before he supposed to fully inherit the name of Norisuke V and the company.

In 2010, their house was rebuilt by Yagiyama Yotsuyu, it was also mentioned that Yotsuyu is a university friend of Jobin!! But he is 28 years old in the story when Jobin is 32 years old, making him a freshman at a time when Jobin was his senior who was about to graduate… logically speaking. Also, didn't they just meet at the stadium about 3 years ago? And there's no mention of him being Jobin's university friend, unless… they might just attended the same university but with different faculties (and degrees).

Back to the present, Josuke and Yasuho find themselves without any Locacaca to cure Holy. Does this mean that Holy will eventually die?

Josuke mentions that the fruits still exist somewhere in the Pacific Islands, although there is no one who could search for them. He may be a little optimistic but it doesn't show on his face. So I can conclude that Holy's fate is more or less 'hanging'.

A woman passes nearby with a baby in her arms. She drops her phone, and Yasuho kindly picks it up for her. As she goes away, Yasuho and Josuke recognize her as Kujo Josefumi's mother, Kiyomi.

I was thinking that she is Mitsuba, some months later when her second child is already born (LOL).

Josuke realizes there is no point approaching her since she seems to have left Josefumi and has moved on, thinking that she might have fully abandoning him. Josuke declares that he was born in the soil beneath the Wall Eyes, being neither Kujo Josefumi nor Kira Yoshikage.

But Yasuho, using 「Paisley Park」, she has checked inside Kiyomi's phone and found that she has kept numerous photos of Josefumi inside, which means that Kiyomi never forgets Josefumi. Josuke is moved, but the occasion has passed.

Yasuho also mentions that Josefumi's name is due to Kiyomi's father once finding a geta with Joseph Joestar's name engraved on it and he couldn't stop thinking about it.

So, the one who gave the name Josefumi was his grandfather. Did Josefumi live together with his mother and grandfather like Josuke in part 4? Is Josefumi really a bastard son?? But unlike Tomoko who apparently never married, Kiyomi was married to Kujo Sadafumi at some point, although in the end they divorced.

To be honest, I’m still not a fan of ‘illegitimate child’ route, as if we need a lot of similarities between the OG verse and the reboot verse. Josefumi could be the legitimate child of Sadafumi and Kiyomi, it's just that they were close to Kiyomi's father that he was good enough to name his grandson.

Besides, this also means that Kujo Josefumi is not blood related to Joseph (Fumi), which also means that he is not a Joestar. So, him being a Joestar was an error, right?

Josuke and Yasuho finally arrive at the Higashikata Fruit Parlor where Daiya greets them. Inside the shop, the surviving members of the Higashikata Family, Mitsuba, Hato, Joshu and Tsurugi, are busy choosing a cake to celebrate Norisuke's discharge from the hospital, though they are also still coping with the traumatizing events they have recently gone through.

As Yasuho leaves the shop, she sheds a happy tear at the sight of Josuke having found a family he belongs to.

But why Yasuho leaves? Recalling the early chapters, that no matter how close Yasuho was to them, she was still an outsider. She doesn’t belong to Higashikata family… kinda sad though, it shouldn't have to be like this.

My thought…

Fumi being Joseph’s been a popular theory since the previous chapter (109) was released. According to Family Tree, he was born in 1924. Thus making him 17 years old in 1941!! Besides, Fumi’s wallet was also stolen, just like when little Smokey stole Joseph's wallet in part 2.

I put this theory aside because for me, sooner or later it will be answered in the next chapter (110) which is the final chapter. Theorizing when the series is about to end is a waste of time for me.

And in the end, Fumi is indeed JJL Joseph, but he did not have Josefumi as his illegitimate son.

Lucy and Joseph, my wasted headcanon...

Then, there was a headcanon that I kept to myself, I refrained from sharing it with you because, yeah... we were heading to the end.

But it won't hurt if I share it now, that I honestly wanted Lucy to be Joseph's grandmother too!!

My headcanon is that Lucy is Joseph's maternal grandma, that’s right! That she is the mother of Elizabeth!!

I was hoping that Elizabeth's maiden name was Steel. But first let's talk about this first, maybe you think that I'm a little 'disgusting'. If so, didn't that mean that Stephen and Lucy ended up having a child, which also meant that they eventually had sex??

Do I support 'pedophilia'? Certainly not! Canonically, Stephen doesn't even want to touch Lucy, even though they are married, he wants to keep Lucy's 'honour'. He even suggested that if one day Lucy found the man she loved, he would allow them to marry.

My further headcanon is that Lucy remarried to another man after Stephen died (given their age gap, this is possible), and thus Elizabeth was born.

Despite the ironic fact (which I get in the SBR story) is that the one Lucy loves is Stephen himself.

On another route, Elizabeth is indeed the daughter of Stephen and Lucy. Maybe our moral spectrum could be different, but for me, it's fine for Stephen to have a child with Lucy, when Lucy has already entered the age of major (as an adult)! As long as she no longer at minor age, perhaps in her 20s with her fully consent of course.

Maybe your views are different, that even though they are both adults, the age gap is still a red flag… and it’s okay, I respect that. After all, we are only talking about fiction here.

Let’s get back on track, in the end this headcanon did not materialize, Lucy never remarried. There is no hint that Lucy has a child (though I still hope she has, we never know).

But having Lucy as Joseph's grandmother is also an interesting idea. This way, she became somehow related to Johnny. I also see the platonic chemistry between Lucy and Joseph quite well.

Rina is indeed Joseph's canon grandmother, but we don't even see grandma Rina here at all. We only see the relationship between Joseph and Lucy, how they faced danger together, and that in the epilogue, Joseph also spent his life with her in New York.

Rina and Lucy are both Erina's reference, then wouldn't it be nice if both of them became Joseph's grandmothers?

Besides, there are interesting name patterns in Lucy, Suzy, and Holy (LOL), for the women who are important in Joseph's life. Oh almost forgot… Fumi.

Tooru...

There is also Tooru, who was already around in 1941. Looks like he was planting Locacaca plants near Higashikata’s orchard. Then where are the plants now? Why don't I see it in Higashikata’s orchard at present time (2011)?

Didn't the Higashikata family through Jobin get the Locacaca plant from Damokan Group who smuggled it from Papua New Guinea? Why didn't Jobin just harvest them from his orchard? Seems that the plants Tooru planted are long gone, then what’s the point of him planting them in 1941?? Why have they gone?

I feel that Araki brought up Tooru in this final chapter’s flashback just to emphasize his existence as the villain in JJL. Like…, he didn't even do anything influential here. Just planting… plants, which happened to be Locacaca.

What he's doing as a villain in this flashback is like... aimless. In the end ,there was no answer regarding the origin of the Higashikata family's curse (my biggest disappointment ever). He was simply planting the plants that Lucy wanted to investigate but couldn’t make it.

Wouldn't it be more impactful if we saw Tooru as the source of family curse?

The curse that is the focus of the Higashikata family story in which Josuke is deeply involved.

I also fail to understand why this flashback in 1941 exists? What is the purpose? Wouldn't it be better if we learn further into the flashback of 1901, the death of Johnny. There is great potential to include Lucy and Tooru in it!

This 1941 flashback? It just shows Tooru as a mysterious cameo, and tells of Lucy's failure to investigate the Locacaca fruit. We don't even know Lucy's real objective, why did she need to investigate the fruit?

At least we got to know JJL Joseph Joestar, nice to meet ya!

Read further: Tooru and what the hell was he doing in 1941??

Holy and her fate...

I think Araki is also less serious with this character. What will be Holy's fate? Will she survive or will she die in the end?

In this final chapter, it is obvious that Josuke doesn’t have any Locacaca fruit in his possession. The fruit is gone forever, at least in Japan. Caato didn't hide the New Locacaca in her cards and Rai had destroyed dozens of regular Locacaca plants in Holy’s lab.

Will Josuke let his mother die and accept this fate? Or is he still trying to find the fruit outside of Japan? Considering what he said to Yasuho.

Holy's fate hangs unclear, but if she dies in the end, maybe that's for the best for her, considering that her children are also dead before her.

But if she survives and stays alive, despite her losing all her family members, at least she has Josuke as her son.

This could be a parallel between Josuke and Jobin. Jobin lost his life against the main villain but managed to save Tsurugi and got rid the family curse, his objective has been realized. Josuke survive and live, he even managed to get rid the main villain completely but he failed to save Holy, he failed his objective (at least he finally finds his identity).

Now that this part is finished, I’m gonna rate it “7,5/10″. I enjoy the ride, theorizing is fun. There are many things to explore in this story. The mystery aspect is a fresh thing in Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure(s), it is this mystery theme that made Araki not rush to open all of his world-building. Slowly but surely the veils were revealed, but this is also what made the author tempted to create new veils which in the end did not have time to reveal until they are worn out and abandoned.

[treason-and-plot]

“Okay. Um, wow,” Chantal says after a five second pause. Roy averts his eyes from the two glazed donuts sitting uneaten next to the couch and stares out over the balcony, the clouds still hanging low and heavy on the horizon.

“Where’s Sersh?” says Chantal. “Shouldn’t she be the one helping you with this? I mean, we both know there’s few people as tolerant and understanding as Freddie, bless his size fifteen white cotton socks. But I think even he’d draw the line at me dashing over to your apartment with a flashlight and a roll of scotch tape -”

“Saoirse is having a girls’ night out with her new workmates. And what sort of kinky shit are you talking about? A flashlight? Scotch tape?” says Roy. “What the hell?”

“That’s how you check for worms, sugar,” says Chantal. “That is what you wanted to ask me, wasn’t it? You turn all the lights off and get someone to spread your arse cheeks apart, and then they shine a flashlight up there as far as they can to see if they can spot any of the little suckers. Or alternatively you can cover your clacker with scotch tape, and then after a little while rip it off and check for eggs. ”  

Roy paces up and down while he tries to process what Chantal has just told him. 

“I’m…I’m lost for words,” he says. “Do you do this to Freddie on a regular basis?" 

"Freddie has never had worms, to my knowledge,” giggles Chantal. “But the kids were always getting them when they were little. Stanley in particular. It was no wonder, that boy would never wash his hands, no matter how much we scolded! We used to be able to see the worms wriggling around in his number twos!”

At least Roy no longer feels like eating the glazed donuts. Or anything else for that matter. He also silently offers a prayer of thanks to Sonia and Apollo for being so over-zealous about hygiene and hand-washing when it came to his own children. 

“So, is your bum-hole itchy, hun?” says Chantal. “That’s usually the first sign that you’ve got them.” “NO,” says Roy. “My bum-hole isn’t in the least bit itchy. Thank Christ. And before you ask, I haven’t noticed…anything else, either.” “So what makes you think you’ve got worms?” Chantal asks. “It doesn’t sound like you’ve got any symptoms at all.” “Because I haven’t been able to stop eating all evening,“ says Roy. “My stomach’s been like this bottomless pit. Isn’t that supposed to be a sign you’ve got worms? You’re constantly starving, because they’re in your intestines eating all your food. Isn’t that right?”   “Hmm. You mentioned that Sersh has gone out partying tonight with her new workmates,” says Chantal. “Are you bothered that she’s gone out on the town without you? Are you feeling threatened? Jealous? Lonely? Resentful? Is there a possibility you’ve been emotional eating, Roy?”

Roy’s stomach churns and groans, as if in sympathy.  

“Fuck. I think I’d rather have worms than feelings,“ says Roy. 

[lady-wallace]

“Pinned Down” (Febuwhump Day 4: “Impaling”)

@febuwhump​ Prompt: Day Four “Impaling”

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Battle Tendency

Synopsis: A fight ends with Joseph is a very dire position. Luckily Caesar is there to get him through it.

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

(Also check out my Ko-Fi, if you enjoy my stories! I also do fic and art commissions ^_^)

~~~~~~~

"Jojo, watch your back!"

Caesar's sharp shout had Joseph spinning around, barely dodging as another of the Pillar Men's zombies flew down from the rafters, preparing to take him out from above. He spun the knife he was using, taking a breath and infusing the blade with hamon before slamming it into the zombie's chest, pushing it back with a foot to the midsection.

"I've got it," Joseph replied to Caesar with a grin as the older man rolled his eyes and sent a vicious bubble launcher toward another zombie.

"Just keep your focus, idiota. I'll take the others here. Make sure those two who dashed out of here don't get away."

"On it," Joseph said and bolted away, boots pounding up the stairs. They were currently in an old house that the surrounding people had said began to have strange sounds coming out of it nightly. They thought it was haunted, but Joseph and Caesar had gone to investigate it, and found that it was actually some of the Pillar Men's minions who had been causing havoc in town, responsible for several disappearances.

Thus, the two hamon warriors in training felt duty bound to take out the whole house full of them.

Also, they had been spotted so they didn't really have much of a choice.

Joseph caught sight of the zombies he had gone after up ahead. They were currently prying at a shuttered window in an attempt to get out.

"And just where do you think you're going?" he demanded, brandishing his knife and also pulling out his clackers, beginning to charge them with hamon, working up momentum.

The zombies spun around the lunged at him. Joseph swung his clackers and took one of them out.

Unfortunately, the other was already on him, throwing itself at Joseph. The young Brit lashed out and slashed the zombie across the chest before he hit the floor with a resounding crack…

And kept going.

It took a second for Joseph to realize he was no longer on solid ground, and then he slammed into something below, the air getting knocked from his lungs, and everything going black.

~~~~~~~

He didn't know how long he was out. Maybe just a second, or maybe longer, but when he blinked his eyes open blearily, he realized he was lying on his back, staring up at a jagged hole in the ceiling where light flowed through.

How the hell had that happened? The house was old, but the floor must have been really bad off for him to have simply fallen through like that.

He could still hear the sounds of fighting and knew he had to get back up to help Caesar. He took a deep breath, and sat up.

Except he didn't even get past the first step.

Joseph felt an excruciating pain rip through his chest and abdomen as he tried to fill his lungs and reached down to feel the spot the pain was radiating from, right under his ribs…

His hand hit something hard.

It took Joseph a second to even make sense of what he was feeling. Even when he glanced down, it didn't really register what he was seeing except that it was bad. He touched the object with a shaking hand and even that sent another wave of agony through him, forcing a gasp out of his lungs.

There was a metal rebar coming out of his side. He didn't know how it had gotten there, but there it was, sharp and covered in his blood as it kept him pinned to the ground and the debris from the floor he had fallen through.

Joseph started to panic. His chest tightened, and his breathing stuttered. That only made the rebar shift inside of him, which caused more injury in turn. Joseph felt the sudden need to cough, and did so, whimpering from the pain that shot though him as he tasted blood in the back of his throat. He reached a cautious hand up and wiped his lower lip, finding blood there as well.

"Damn," he whispered, shaking even more.

"Jojo!"

Caesar's voice suddenly shouted from above and Joseph looked up, instantly relieved to see his friend peeking through the hole, eyes wide. "What are you doing down there? Are you all right?"

"Cae-Caesar," Joseph gulped before another cough burst from his chest and he let out a sharp cry, his breathing so erratic he was seeing stars.

Caesar seemed to see that something was wrong, and he jumped down landing lightly, before he stepped over with a cautious frown. "What's wrong, Jojo?"

He stopped, as he finally moved out of the light and it illuminated the rebar that was currently impaling Joseph.

"Dio mio," Caesar breathed as he rushed the last few feet forward, and fell on his knees next to Joseph, grabbing his flailing arm and slipping his other hand under the younger man's head. "What happened?"

"F-fell through th-the f-floor," Joseph gulped, swallowing down more blood. He hiccupped back another cough and watched blood pool around the rebar in his side, feeling woozy and nauseous. Caesar seemed to see he was really struggling and squeezed the back of his neck.

"Easy, you need to calm down, Jojo."

Joseph's wandering hand latched onto Caesar's jacket, tugging. "C-Calm down? That's rich. You don't have a-a rod through your bloody side!" The outburst caused his lungs to spasm again and Joseph choked on more blood, eyes blowing wide as he felt like he was drowning.

"Jojo!" Caesar snapped, squeezing his wrist tightly. "I told you to calm now! It's damaged your lung, which means you won't be able to use your hamon to help free yourself. You need to stay still and let me handle this."

Joseph was still trembling, toes curling from the pain, doing his best to fight against the panic of not being able to breathe. "Wha-what're you gonna do?" Joseph croaked.

Caesar carefully laid him back as flat as possible and leaned over to inspect the rebar. He cautiously slid a hand beneath Joseph's back to feel the spot the metal rod had gone in. Joseph's breath hitched in a bitten off whimper.

"You can still move your legs, right?" Caesar inquired.

Joseph twitched his feet in answer. Caesar bit his lip as he looked around the room.

Joseph started to get annoyed. "Hey! You going to help or—or what?" he demanded shakily.

Caesar narrowed his eyes at the other warrior, but there was none of his usual annoyance. If anything, Joseph thought he looked worried.

"Look, I can get you off of it, Jojo, but it's not going to be pleasant. Maybe…maybe I should go get help. Lisa Lisa might know something—"

"No!" Joseph cut in quickly. He didn't really want to admit it, but the thought of being left alone like this was terrifying. Especially if more of the zombies showed up…

Caesar's face softened and he nodded. "Okay, then what do you want me to do?"

Joseph bit his lip, a breath shuddering in his throat. "D-do it. Get it out of me. I—I trust you."

Caesar sat up straighter, his face pale, but determined. "Okay, Jojo. But I warn you, I am not very practiced with hamon healing. If this goes wrong…"

"I could bleed out by the time you get back anyway," Joseph pointed out. "M-my lung might collapse soon. Just…get it over with, okay? Like ripping off a plaster."

Caesar let out a short huff and nodded. "Fine. And I know this is a lot to ask, but try not to tense up. It will make it worse."

Joseph took a wet, shaky breath and tried to go as limp as possible as Caesar bent over him, hands under his back. One above and below the rod.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath and hamon suddenly appeared around the rod, creating a barrier between the metal and Joseph's flesh in an attempt to make the passage smoother. It tingled, and Joseph's breath fluttered.

"Caesar…" he tried but his friend had already started moving.

Caesar, to his credit, was swift and efficient, heaving Joseph up and off the rebar in one motion. That didn't stop the utter agony that crashed through Joseph.

He screamed, arching his back, feeling like fire was tearing through his middle.

"Jojo!" Caesar shouted, grabbing his flailing arms, trying to keep him from injuring himself further. "Easy!"

Something gripped his lung and squeezed. Joseph gasped for breath, choking as more blood, frothy this time, seeped from his mouth. He grabbed hold of Caesar, eyes wide in alarm.

Caesar's own eyes went wide. He hurriedly settled Joseph on the floor and pressed a hand against his chest, forcing hamon into him. Joseph fought, the hamon feeling like electricity shooting through him. He choked out a pitiful whimper.

"Jojo, stop fighting it!" Caesar commanded sharply, reaching up to grip his shoulder with his other hand. "I'm trying to help you, just relax!"

Joseph did his best, and as he fought against the panic, he did finally feel Caesar's hamon working. His lung felt less tight and he could breathe. It was still painful, but he could get air in without coughing blood.

Caesar finally pulled back and Joseph slumped fully on the floor.

His eyes fluttered, feeling extremely exhausted as he watched Caesar yank his coat off and start binding it around Joseph's middle. He felt sticky, there was a pool of blood under his back and his whole torso was drenched in red. He swallowed hard.

"Caesar," he mumbled.

"It's okay, Jojo, I'm getting you help. Just hang on," Caesar told him.

Joseph wasn't sure he would be able to. He was so tired. All he could think of was his blood dripping away. It seemed to have really started flowing in earnest the instant the rod was out. He felt the electric warmth of Caesar's hamon again, but was too tired to care. The last thing he was aware of was Caesar lifting him off the ground and the weightlessness finally put Joseph over the edge. His head fell back and he succumbed to the encroaching blackness.

~~~~~~~

The next time Joseph woke, he was back on Air Supplena. Someone was humming, and he felt the swipe of a warm cloth against his face. He blinked his eyes open and through the bleariness saw Suzie bending over him.

She gasped softly as she saw his eyes open. "Jojo! You're awake!"

He managed a grin and a wink. "Looks like it. No need to stop on my account."

She blushed and ducked away out the door. Joseph sighed and lay back staring at the ceiling, flashes of the events that had led up to this crashing over him. He shuddered and brought a hand up to press against his side, feeling thick bandages there.

"So, you're awake."

He looked up to see that Caesar had come into the room, Suzie hovering behind him with fresh bandages.

Joseph managed a small smile. "Yeah, thanks to you, I'm still here."

"Hm," the Italian looked like he was fighting a smile. "It appears I need to try harder to keep you from doing idiotic things."

"Oh, like you're one to talk," Joseph snipped and Caesar's lips quirked up in a smile, shaking his head. Joseph gulped. "How bad is it anyway?"

"You'll recover," Caesar promised. "It's mostly closed now, but you'll have to rest for a couple more days."

Joseph sighed and lay back more firmly in bed. "Well, I suppose it won't be too bad. Kind of nice to be waited on—agh!"

Caesar tossed a bottle of pain pills at him and they bounced off his forehead. Joseph glowered, rubbing his head as he grabbed the bottle.

"There you go. Time for your medicine," Caesar told him, glaring at Suzie as she went to fuss over Joseph. "He's not hurt, stop feeding his pathetic whining."

"Not hurt, I am actually an invalid!" Joseph pouted. "You said as much."

Suzie smiled. "It's okay, Jojo, I'll get you what you need. Let me get you some water so you can take your medicine.

Caesar rolled his eyes as she skipped off and Joseph turned to him, sticking his tongue out. "See? That's how you treat a wounded warrior."

"Oh shut up," Caesar grunted.

Joseph sobered. "Really though, Caesar, thank you."

The Italian sighed but nodded. "I'm just glad you're okay." He held up a finger. "But I am not waiting on you hand and foot."

Joseph shrugged. "That's fine. Suzie's prettier anyway."

Caesar huffed a laugh and reached down to ruffle Joseph's hair, causing him to snarl in annoyance. "Just be good to her. Or I'll kick your invalid ass."

Joseph pouted but lay back, relaxed, as Suzie came back in with water for him. He really was grateful to have such good friends watching out for him.

[fortune-fool02]

Impressed by an Idiot

Joseph Joestar x female reader

This is a practice to see if I can write Joseph’s character. I am unsure if I will continue writing for him so please leave a comment about your opinion of this. Thank you.

Please enjoy.  

Much like Caesar, [Name] had trained under Lisa Lisa for some years now and had developed incredibly with her Hamon as a result. She and Caesar would train with one another for days on end and had developed a good friendship over the years. 

However, when she had heard that a Joseph Joestar had been able to defeat Straizo as well as a Pillarman, she had to admit she was impressed by this. This Hamon user must have had years to practice his control over it to master it to a razor’s edge. That was what she believed. But when she saw this supposed man who defeated a Pillarman, all of that was thrown right out the window. 

This...man was a bloody idiot! Within ten minutes of being introduced to Caesar and [Name], he had proclaimed loudly in the restaurant of Caesar being a “womanising mozzarella stick” for being his flirtatious self with a woman and then proceeded to use Hamon on spaghetti. That itself backfired when Caesar sent it straight back at him. 

[Name] asked Mr Speedwagon if this man was, indeed, the same one she had heard of, which he confirmed. Joseph’s Hamon was weak, he had no training whatsoever of it and he could not even control it properly. Rather than a gentle flowing river, his Hamon was a sea in a storm; uncontrolled, unfocused and a complete mess. So when Lisa Lisa told [Name] that she could help with Joseph’s training, she did so.

***

[Name] stood in the room, glancing down at her watch again. Joseph was five minutes late, this was going to be added to the training session of hers. The doors to the room opened and the brunette walked in.

“You’re late.” she stated, tapping her watch a little. For a man who was apparently determined to strengthen his Hamon to be able to stand a chance against the other Pillarman, he seemed to be lacking in that determination. Anyone else who had their life on the line would have been here on time.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Lisa Lisa said you’re gonna help me, right?” He asked, confirming what he was told. She nodded and he smiled. His light green eyes holding this spark in them, like a child eager to learn something new. 

“One way that can be used to help you master Hamon is to have a focus. A weapon of your choice. Do you have something in mind for that?” [Name] had this plan in mind by using techniques similar to what she was taught, hoping that it would reflect and be able to help Joseph. The man was only young and was threatened with having a month left to live. 

He smiled brightly, “Yeah, I do.” He stated before dramatically revealing two small steel balls connected to wire. “Clacker Volley, the same very ones that struck the ‘Mighty Whamu’.” The sense of pride in his display of this was almost comedic. Though, Joseph has always seemed like a person who searches for the brighter side of things, always wanting to lighten dampened moods. 

“Alright, first of all, show me what you can do with them.” The reason for this was that she needed to know how well he could use these clackers and work from there on. However, Joseph simply smirked proudly before beginning to spin them at a rapid speed to the point they seemed to be nothing more than a blur f moving silver with a clank for each time they hit one another, which was very good. He had a flow and that was a start. 

The smirk on his lips held pride as well as a bit of smugness, which [Name] didn’t care for, and he began to perform little tricks with the fast moving clackers, no once breaking the rhythm of their flow. [Name] had to admit that it was quite impressive to see this, as keeping rhythm for this length of time as well as performing these little tricks was quite difficult and- 

Her little train of thoughts was cut off as the clackers flew off rhythm a little and smacked Joseph’s head with a loud thunk. 

“Ouch!” He shouted, dropping the clackers and holding the spot where the clackers hit. Even [Name] winced a little by the sound alone and the fact they were made of steel did not help. She couldn’t deny it was a little funny though by his reaction. 

“I’m glad you find my pain amusing.” He spoke, the smile on his lips was nothing short of playful despite his words. The [Hair colour] female approached him and looked at where the clackers hit to see no wounds or anything. 

“There’s nothing there. You will be fine.” He looked at her, eyes fluttering playfully at her, with that playful smile still on his lips. He, in an odd way, reminded her of a puppy. A silly, reckless puppy that could somehow maintain its cuteness just by being daft. 

“But I will admit, Joseph, that was quite impressive with your clackers. Just maybe don’t hit yourself.” A warm laugh escaped from him at that, rubbing his head a little before picking up his clackers. When she first met him, [Name] thought he was nothing more than a boastful, prideful idiot who had too much confidence in himself, and he was an idiot but he was determined to learn. And from what the others told her, especially Mr Speedwagon, Joseph could be quite cunning in situations when needed to be, and he cared for his friends and family. 

That was what impressed her the most. 

“Not the first time it’s happened and very likely not the last.” He looked at [Name], the smile that lifted her lips was soft but genuine. Kind and gentle. She was not a cold person, she was just trying to help him, and he understood that. Maybe there was more to her that he would learn during these training sessions? 

He hoped so. 

[koala-soap]

| A Prince And His Princess |

Okay, this is such an adorable idea and it makes me squeal aggressively every time I think of it. I had a great time writing this, so thank you, my anon. ˊᵕˋ Take all my apologies for not uploading recently!

Story Below.

To any young child, standing besides your mother’s legs as she busies herself with choosing fruit from the grocery store stand would be quite mundane. Women with sweaty iron grips on their children’s hand and countless young adults wondering aimlessly scooted past you in the past minute, and standing here was starting to bore you. Tremendously.

Having decided that this was the single most boring spot in the milky way, a quick glance up at your distracted mother was all it took for you to squeeze past the shopping cart and into the sea of shoppers. Legs swiftly passed you, and the battered wheels of trolleys clacked around you. There were so many colors and things to touch; this was much better than standing with your mother and watching paint dry.

Waddling carelessly in between all the chaos around you, you made it out of the cramped zoo of a fruit section and out to the real party: the food aisles.

Specifically, the one aisle filled with sugar and sweets that lit up to you like a gold mine.

“Yum, yum, yum, yum, yum.” A bigger smile couldn’t spread on your face, as your wondrous eyes looked up at the tall shelves of opportunities. So many snacks. The metal railing of aisle drifted past your fingers while you walked further down with no real goal in mind.

At the end of the aisle, at the end of the tile’s lines your eyes were driving along, was a tall boy standing alone with something in his hand. The whole world paused in your head, distant chatter drowning out and the loud rustles of crisp packets disappearing. This beautiful specimen had all your attention.

It was in that moment that you decided he looked like a prince. Yep, he was a prince. Like the ones who proudly hold shining swords in your books and the ones who give piggy back rides to their damsel in distress around the beautiful castle court yard. That is exactly who this boy was.

The teen who stood like a shimmering trophy simply placed the item of food back down and wondered towards you with his head swaying in all directions, looking for something. He was definitely looking for his princess.

He mustn’t look far though, because you were right in front of him. Despite the fact it was a pity your huge ball gown was absent, it didn’t suppress your growing excitement at all. Your fuzzy jumper and shorts will have to do.

“Hello!”

The prince stopped in his royal tracks, eyes darting to every corner of the shop before sinking down to another pair, wide and overflowing with shining happiness. Your small hand came up to stretch out fully, waving eccentrically up at him. After his confused eyes searched the aisle for some sort of care giver and saw the lack thereof, his eyes went back down to you.

“Hi?”

An excited smile from you near blinded the poor prince. “Hi! Are you a prince?”

The prince’s face full of confusion didn’t falter, but this time showed a hint of innocent amusement. “No…”

“Are you sure, mister? Very, really, super, duper, smooper sure?”

His shallow nod and smile made you pout. “Yes, I’m smooper duper sure.”

His question about the whereabouts of your parents bores you, so when he starts walking along in search of any frantic, panicked adults with a lost kid, you follow. As you do that, you skip and bounce to keep up with his long big people steps.

“Where’s your princess?”

“My princess?”

“Yeah, where is she?”

“…I suppose I don’t have one.”

“But every prince needs a princess! Were you looking for one just now?”

“No, just snacks.”

“Can I be your princess?”

He smiles ever so softly, but finds your cute antics amusing. Up until now, his day had been like dry, un-buttered toast: bland and boring, but you were lifting his spirits a bit.

“Of course. What sort of prince would I be without a princess?” He played along with your silly little fantasy.

“Yipee!”

When the store’s food aisle came to an end and you and your prince burst into the busy crowd of hustling adults and clackering shopping carts, he asks you to hold his hand so you wouldn’t drift away like in an ocean’s nasty rip. With your hands now held, he heads over to the fruit and veg section, where you informed him you just were.

In among all the people eyeing pieces of fruit, your prince spotted a woman with no mind of the fruit around her, instead pushing past people and head spinning in every direction but the fruit. Frantic and very much panicked: the two things a parent with a lost child should be.

When her eyes lock into yours, her whole face of terror melts back down into a pool of sheer relief. “Oh my god, there you are!”

Her muttering of joyful thanks to Jesus and god out there didn’t stop when you wrapped your free hand around your mother. Much to your dismay, your other hand was now empty as well because your prince let go of your hand.

She stood, both hands holding your back and your smooshed into her side as if she’d let go and you’d fly away again. She nodded at your savior, eyebrows pulled up in relief. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem.” He calmly nods back.

After she hauled you onto her hip and started to make her way back to the forgotten trolley of food, your eyes peered just above her shoulder to see the boy, who gave you a royal bow and a smile,

just like a prince.

[monstersdownthepath]

Unusual Bogeymen

Everyone knows about the bogeyman–the nasty monster that gobbles up disobedient children. Every culture in the world has them, in so many shapes and sizes that listing all of them would take a library and a half. Some families even have personal bogeymen, creatures made up on the spot by parents wanting their children to behave, which sometimes spread from the original family and into the population’s collective consciousness.

Like many things on Golarion and beyond, stories have a power all their own. The wild imaginations of young children are a potent source of fuel and fire for wild magic looking for a purpose, but especially the magic of the First World, where enough people believing something to be true makes it so. In areas of Golarion where the barrier between the Material Plane and the First World are thin, sometimes the stories of these bogeyman creep into the land of the fey and take on a life of their own as monstrous creatures, some of which even make it into the Material Plane from time to time.

Creatures like….

Lakanak, also known as Clack-Clack, the Lake Clacker, Snapper, and other such titles depending on the location. Stories of Lakanak first spread via secondhand ‘friend-of-a-friend’ tales regarding an incident in which a monstrous crab burst from a lake and devoured an unlucky traveler; horse, cart, and all. Lakanak quickly became a cautionary tale against going near deep waters while alone, and was used to scare children away from the shorelines... A little too effectively, as it turned out, and soon fishermen hoping for their children to learn their trade found the young’ns were too scared to, from their viewpoint, get within reach of the hungry crab’s claws. 

Eventually the story began to evolve, Lakanak becoming something of a coward. Used to being the biggest creature in the lakes or ponds it calls home, it becomes mortally terrified of any being larger than itself, with the parents of the lectured child confirming that they just so happen to be taller than the hungry creature. Thankfully, this more popular version of the legend was the one given life by the First World, and the CR 5 Lakanak is cursed with an unfortunate Fear of Giants, causing it to become increasingly panicked when confronted by anyone over 6 feet tall before eventually fleeing the area altogether.

Lakanak’s monstrous appetite can see it snapping up just about anything it can fit into its mouth, but it also means it can be easily tricked or bypassed with bribes of food. In one popular children’s story, a trio of young boys manages to escape an encounter with the ravenous crustacean by way of a Three Billy Goat’s Gruff charade, each one promising a greater and greater feast if only Lakanak would allow them to pass by. In some darker versions of the story, this is what eventually inspired the beast to devour an entire traveler’s cart, as the cart passed by just minutes after the boys did, and the true Lakanak cannot be tricked with promises of food to come... But it’s still ever the sucker for delicious treats that are already here and being offered to it, allowing even the plumpest of children to leave if it’s sufficiently appeased with easier, less-screamy meals.

Granny Nose, also known Granny Schnozz, Granny Mudfoot, the Hogmother, or simply Mudfoot, is one of many creatures used to spook lazy children into activity. Blind and deaf but tall as a tree and strong as an ox, Granny Nose’s most notable feature is her namesake sniffer, which is so comically enormous that she looks like a scythe if viewed from the side. One honking snort (sometimes exaggerated to the point of being strong enough to rip trees from their roots) lets her smell the whole area for miles around, a valuable tool for finding her “lost piggies.”

Clad in thoroughly-befouled burlap but for a wide-brimmed straw hat on her head, Granny Nose’s worn trappings are kept in place by countless ropes, each of which are connected to the necks of at least a dozen snuffling hogs that constantly churn the earth around her, coating her in dirt, mud, and muck. Ever hungry but never the smartest of women, Granny will wolf down entire swines whole and alive and then subsequently forget that she did so, and will embark on a quest to find her now “missing pig.” And guess what messy, filthy children who refuse their baths just so happen to smell like to the blind old crone, whose deaf ears can’t tell a child’s shouts of protest from the squealings of a runaway hog? In some versions of the legend, the Granny will use wicked magic to transmute filthy children into hogs to be eaten later, while sometimes it’s the ropes themselves with the magical polymorphing power. In still others, Granny Nose will simply tie the children to her, so tightly they can never break free, forced to live among the muddy, messy, snuffling pigs until Granny becomes hungry again.

Granny Nose is popular among produce farmers more than any other bogeymen, because as it turns out, it just so happens that Granny Nose cannot stand the smell of corn, or apples, or carrots, or whatever the current year’s crop is, prompting the young layabouts to help sew and care for the crops if only to keep the crone from drawing too closely. She also comes in handy for livestock farmers, especially with ones with hogs of their own, to explain to their too-young children just why some pigs went missing (”Granny thought they were hers”), at least until the child is old enough to see for themselves where the pigs are going. Even the wealthier areas of the world benefit from the tales of the Hogmother, who can apparently also be repelled by the smells of sweet and healthy flowers from the parent’s lovely garden that they so wish their child would help them care for, because it’s the only thing keeping that nasty crone at bay, you see...

The incarnated form of Granny Nose is a CR 9 encounter, a hag-like being with monstrous strength, an unbearably awful stink around her, and a crowd of hungry hogs that will eagerly nip and gnaw on anything that gets in reach of their mouths. Blind and deaf like her storybook counterpart, her sense of smell is so acute that it grants her an enormous blindsight radius that can grow even larger if she takes a round to sniff her surroundings, her tremendous inhalations and exhalations capable of imitating a few windy spells as she does so.

The Heckler, also known as Heckleton, Hackleton, Wraps, Bundler, or the Raggedy Man, is a horror sometimes whispered to be an unspeakably hideous being beneath the layers and layers and layers of filthy, bloodstained cloth that wrap endlessly around it. The Heckler sometimes carries a bloody sack slung over its shoulder, its free hand holding (or replaced by) a set of rusty but deadly sharp shears, shears sharp enough that they can slice bones like butter, and only get sharper with each use. And they get used a lot.

Heckleton collects fingers, you see, but not just any fingers; It desires only the softest, smoothest, most beautiful fingers for its grisly collection, and will gleefully snap them one by one from the layabouts with uncalloused hands that refuse to lift, move, or work anything. The Heckler is a popular bogeyman in towns where most of the jobs available are grueling manual labor, whose workers end up with worn down, scarred, and generally beaten up hands that the bogeyman despises so. Children are taught quickly to work ‘till they start getting blisters and callouses, as it’s surely the only way to disgust the shears-wielding psychopath. In gentler areas with less need for child labor, the Heckler still finds its place, though its desires completely switch and end up with it coming for hands and fingers that haven’t been properly washed, cared for, for fingers with untrimmed nails, or for hands that became too dirty when playing outside.

Rather than snipping all of them off at once, the Heckler will instead take them one at a time, coming back once each night to take a new finger, all the while chiding its victim with taunts of “lazy, lazy, laaaaazy” in a voice that sounds just as rusty and horrible as its shears. Often, adults who’ve indeed lost fingers to the perils of their work will claim to have been visited by the Heckler in their youth and immediately changed their ways. Such lies are awfully cruel, but the true Heckler, a CR 10 Fey-Aberration horror armed with a set of +1 Cruel (of course) Ominous Shears, is even crueler. Due to the paradox inherent in the “farmlands” Heckler desiring soft, clean fingers and the “city” Heckler desiring scarred, dirty ones, the incarnated Heckler desires all fingers, and will cut them from the corpses of victims it manages to scare to death, either through its frightening aura or showing off the unfathomably terrifying visage hidden beneath its rags.

The Plucker, sometimes known as Pucker, is a warning against wandering eyes. There’s nothing the Plucker craves more than wandering eyes, eyes which have seen things they shouldn’t, eyes that have read things they shouldn’t, and hunts them down like a dog chasing a squirrel. The Plucker’s secondary name comes from its most common appearance, as a painfully gaunt, human-shaped aberration with its lips drawn into a comically intense pucker. The Plucker has no eyes of its own, having long since torn them out and eaten them after reading from a wicked book (some parents will mention specific books, but it’s generally left ambiguous), its intense pucker the result of the force it expended swallowing down everything it had seen.

Though, in some more gruesome tales, the Pucker’s pucker isn’t a true pucker at all, but only looks like it. The reality is that its mouth is surrounded by fingers or even tentacles that it keeps partially tucked in its throat, their curled form making it seem like a pucker, up until it needs to scoop some eyes from some heads.

The Plucker began as a tale to warn children away from curiously perusing wicked literature sometimes placed before them by mischief-making fiends, but in some parts of the world it’s used to scare children away from any literature at all, save for ones their parents (or the local church) allow. In still others, it’s used as a more generalized bogeyman that hunts peeping children at night, going after the foolish waifs who’ve stayed up past their bedtime and plucking out their eyes if it finds them. In its stories, the Plucker can sometimes be confounded simply by keeping one’s eyes closed, but in others, the additional security of a blanket is needed to perplex the blind horror, who can see through the eyes of others and is easily thwarted if its victim simply covers their eyes in some fashion, both re-blinding the creature and stopping it from taking their eyes.

The incarnated Plucker is not fooled by blankets. It is a CR 13 nightmare that wields considerable occult power collected from all over the world. In addition to its fearsome spellcasting, the Plucker is supernaturally terrifying to all who see its pale, emaciated form, inducing an intense terror that only grows worse when it unfolds the nightmarish tendrils from its mouth or feeds on an unlucky victim. Its latching claws are laced with a paralytic poison that renders its victims unable to resist as it gulps down their eyes, and it can smell “forbidden” knowledge lurking in the eyes of those who’ve seen too much, allowing it to track specific prey even if they know to shut their eyes and make both themselves and the horror blind to one another. What “forbidden” knowledge the Plucker hungers for, exactly, is generally up to the DM, but it usually entails knowledge of the lower planes that can only be found in obscure tomes one needs a hefty bribe to even know about, let alone see... Though, in general, the Plucker will take any eyes it can get its facial tendrils around, only seeking out specific, especially-delicious, especially-tainted eyes if the opportunity arises. Regardless of if they’re tainted with horrible knowledge or not, any eye the Plucker consumes restores a portion of its expended spells for the day, though tainted eyes restore considerably more.  

Bitter Beans, also known as Uncle or Aunt Bitters, is the least of the bogeymen, among the most harmless and humorous, though it’s not exactly funny for the children tormented by the creature. Standing at two feet in height, Bitter Beans has a body made of gnarled, ugly wood, with a gnarled, ugly face (the gender varies from region to region), and a single, large hole in its backside. In polite society, the hole is instead on the back of its head, opposite to its face.

The stories of Bitter Beans originated from a small island where they do, indeed, grow pungent, black beans that taste incredibly foul if eaten directly, but make for a fine coffee. Bitter Beans was invented to punish children who never cleaned their plates, the nasty little fey inviting itself into people’s homes and eating all the leftovers before leaving behind a mass of... Er, bitter beans, fresh from the hole on its rear (or the back of its head, as mentioned). Bitter Beans would quickly begin to eat the food of the ungrateful child before it even got to the table, leaving behind nothing but a plate of steaming, foul-smelling, incredibly bitter beans for the child to stare at, the parents “none the wiser” to the foul switch until it gets explicitly pointed out.

In areas of the world where Bitter Beans’ namesake beans aren’t common enough to punish children with, the fey is instead referred to as Aunt or Uncle Bitters, and its leavings are always the grossest, most undesirable portions of whatever it got to eat before. A child didn’t eat their broccoli one night? Well, such a shame, because “we’re having steak tonight... And oops, it looks like Uncle Bitters got to it first, leaving you with nothing but the fat and some bones.” At least once Bitter Beans eats its fill of one meal, it’s full for a full day and a half, giving the child another chance to clean their plate the night after their skipped dinner so Bitter Beans has nothing to eat and leaves.

The incarnated Bitter Beans is a lowly CR 2 monster that forces its way into people’s homes and squats there until chased out, harmless aside from its ability to project various nauseating odors, and the Filth Fever that can result from getting pelted with its bitter beans. It is, though, obnoxiously swift and has the ability to turn invisible a few times a day in order to sneak food right off of people’s plates or escape a confrontation. Above all that, Bitter Beans a coward and a glutton, and will always choose to flee from a fight than risk harm. There are always easier houses to prey on, filled with uncleaned plates and delicious next-day dinners.