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jojosbizarrecandyland · 2 months ago

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Chapter 2 : Drawin' Together

Previous chapter (Start)

Pages: 5 Words: 2,072 Summary: Joanne forms a bond with luke and she reveals her goals and reasons she runs a store all by herself.

The soft light of the late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of Joanne's small candy shop, casting a golden glow across the closed-up storefront. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams of light, their movements slow and peaceful as they glided over rows of colorful jars, shelves packed with sweet delights, and the counter that had seen better days. The shop was closed for business, but its charm never faded, even when empty. A faint scent of sugar and cocoa lingered in the air, comforting and warm.

At the center of the shop, by a small round table that was more suited for customers enjoying sweets than for its current purpose, Joanne and Luke sat together, engrossed in their coloring books. The shop’s usual buzz was absent, replaced by the quiet scratches of crayons on paper and the occasional exchange of words. Joanne, with her wide, curious eyes, leaned over her coloring book, the pages filled with candy-themed illustrations that she was diligently bringing to life with vibrant hues.

Luke, on the other hand, had chosen a different approach. He wasn’t simply coloring; he was drafting, sketching in a meticulous, almost mechanical manner. His page, once a simple landscape of a park, had morphed into a series of architectural designs, complete with dimensions and annotations. His fingers moved swiftly, tracing blueprints for a building that seemed plucked from a futuristic cityscape, the lines precise, the concept intricate.

Joanne looked over at him, curious about the strange, almost methodical way he was drawing. She picked up a few crayons from the box between them and handed them to Luke, her fingers brushing his lightly as she smiled.

"So… what's your Stand?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with genuine interest. She'd seen him use it before, though the memory was a bit hazy. "I saw it make your body turn into… stuff. Like machines, right?"

Luke glanced up from his drawing, his brow furrowed in concentration as his fingers continued to move across the page. For a moment, he didn’t answer, as if he were lost in thought or maybe considering how best to explain something so personal. Finally, he stopped sketching and placed his crayon down carefully.

“My Stand?” Luke began, his voice calm but tinged with a certain pride. “It’s called Revolution. But I call it Revo… or Reva.” As he spoke, three small, mechanical creatures materialized near his shoulder. They were tiny, barely the size of Ferris wheels, with their bodies made up of floating gears and cogs. They whirred softly, hovering near him like miniature guardians.

Joanne’s eyes widened as she watched them float, their metallic surfaces catching the light in an almost hypnotic way. Luke shrugged as if their presence was as normal as the coloring books in front of them.

“I got it a couple of years ago,” he continued, his tone growing a little quieter, “when I was in the hospital.”

The admission was said so nonchalantly, but there was weight behind it—weight that Joanne didn’t miss. She didn't pry further, respecting whatever memories lay beneath those words. Instead, she nodded as Luke continued.

“Revo allows me to turn parts of my body into robotic pieces,” he explained, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Kind of like those giant mechas you see in manga. I can transform my arms or legs into huge machines if I need to.” His voice dropped slightly. “It’s… useful. What about yours?”

Joanne straightened up, eager to share. She had always liked talking about her Stand, even though she had never met many people who could actually understand what having one meant. Luke was different. He was like her.

“My Stand is called Lollipop,” Joanne said, gesturing to her side, where her Stand manifested in the form of a tall, humanoid figure. The figure had magenta skin and heart-shaped hair, resembling a teenager not much older than Joanne herself. The Stand, sucking on a large, colorful lollipop, handed Joanne a piece of taffy without a word.

“I call her Poppy,” Joanne continued, popping the candy into her mouth with a smile. “She can turn ordinary things into lollipops. I think I’ve had her for as long as I can remember, but I don’t know exactly when she came into my life. It just feels like she’s always been there.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued by the simplicity yet uniqueness of Joanne’s Stand. Turning things into candy seemed like such a harmless power, especially when compared to his own ability to morph into a destructive force. It made Joanne seem even more innocent in his eyes.

“I’m sorry again about attacking you that day,” Joanne added quickly, her face flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and sincerity. “I didn’t know you had a Stand too. I’ve never met anyone else like me before. It’s kind of fun, though!” She giggled, her laughter light and infectious.

Luke couldn’t help but blush, his face reddening at how adorable she sounded. Her laughter was soft and melodic, the kind that seemed to chase away the shadows. His chest tightened with unfamiliar warmth, but he tried to maintain his composure, covering his mouth as if trying to suppress a grin.

“W-well,” he stammered, “there are plenty of people out there with Stands, you know. You should be careful. Not all of them are friendly, and some could try to hurt you for less.” His voice, although shaky, was tinged with a protective edge.

Joanne’s smile faltered, her brows knitting together at the thought of that. She hadn’t really considered the danger. Her Stand, after all, was more whimsical than powerful. All Poppy could do was turn objects into candy—nothing that could protect her in a fight. Her lips pursed in worry.

“I guess I didn’t think about that…” she admitted, her voice softening as reality began to sink in. “I’ll try to work harder so I don’t get hurt.”

Luke’s eyes widened as he realized he had caused her to worry. His heart raced, and he immediately began to fret, his hands fidgeting nervously.

“B-but don’t worry, Jojo!” he stuttered, the nickname slipping out before he could stop himself. “I-I said I’d help, remember? As long as I’m around, I can help protect you! Okay?” His voice grew more confident as he spoke, as if reassuring her was reassuring himself as well.

Joanne’s eyes sparkled with hope, and she looked at Luke with an expression of pure gratitude. “Really, Luke? You’d do that for me?”

Luke scratched the back of his head, looking away as his face turned a deeper shade of red. “Yeah… why not?”

Without warning, Joanne reached over and hugged him tightly, her arms wrapping around him as she buried her face in his shoulder. Luke froze, his face burning with embarrassment as his mind raced.

“O-okay, cut it out!” he mumbled, awkwardly patting her back before gently prying her off. He looked around the shop, desperate for a distraction from the awkwardness of the moment.

“Why are you running this place, anyway?” Luke asked, hoping to change the subject.

Joanne’s expression shifted, her excitement dimming as her tone softened. “Well…”

She hesitated, her voice catching in her throat as her eyes lowered to her hands. Luke noticed the sudden change in her demeanor and stopped coloring, his full attention now on her.

“My parents went missing,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “So I take care of the shop. It’s the only way I can afford to keep our house.”

Luke’s heart sank. He hadn’t expected that. Joanne was always so cheerful, so full of energy, that he hadn’t imagined she was carrying such a heavy burden. He set his crayon down, his face twisting into an expression of concern.

“Where are your mommy and daddy, Jo?” he asked softly.

Joanne’s lower lip quivered as a single tear escaped down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, refusing to let it show how much it hurt. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “But I’m going to find them.”

“Find them?” Luke repeated, his brow furrowing. “But… you’re just a kid. Why haven’t you called the police?”

“I tried,” Joanne said, her voice cracking. “But they… they tried to take me away from my home.” Her childlike mind couldn’t fully comprehend the situation, but she knew one thing for sure: the police had wanted to place her in foster care or send her to some third-party home. They hadn’t understood that she didn’t need their help. She needed her parents.

“I’m going to find them,” she repeated, her resolve hardening. “And pretty soon, I’ll have just enough money to do that. No one has tried to help me, so I’ve had to do everything by myself.” Her voice broke as she spoke, the weight of her loneliness finally slipping through.

Luke watched her, his own heart aching in a way he didn’t fully understand. He didn’t have parents either, and even though he was just a young boy, he didn’t want Joanne to go through what he had. He clenched his fists, determination swelling inside him.

“You don’t have to look alone anymore,” Luke said firmly, his voice filled with quiet resolve. “I’ll help you.”

Joanne looked up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You’d help me?”

Luke nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah… I’ll help you find your mommy and daddy. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Joanne’s face lit up with hope, and she reached out to grab his hands, squeezing them tightly. “Oh, Luke! Thank you! I promise, when we find them, you can eat at the candy shop for free! For life!”

Her excitement was contagious, and despite himself, Luke couldn’t help but smile. Joanne’s joy was infectious, and for a moment, the weight of their problems seemed to lift. They were just two kids in a candy shop, coloring and dreaming of a brighter future.

And as the sun began to set outside, casting long shadows across the empty store, Luke realized something: no matter how tough things got, he wasn’t going to let Joanne face them alone.

As Luke helped Joanne lock up the candy shop, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the town in a soft twilight. He pocketed the shop's keys, glancing around the quiet street. Joanne adjusted her backpack, and the two began their walk toward her home, their steps echoing in the stillness of the evening.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of watchful eyes followed their every move. Sitting at the edge of the street, half-hidden in the shadows, was a dog. At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary mutt—just another stray wandering the town in search of scraps. But there was something bizarre, almost unsettling, about this animal.

It was an older-looking rough collie, its fur long and unkempt, with patches of graying brown and white. Its gaze was unnervingly focused, far more intelligent than any ordinary dog. Its head tilted slightly, ears perked up, as if it understood far more than a simple animal should.

The dog remained perfectly still as Luke and Joanne passed by, its eyes never leaving them. Though it stayed rooted to the spot, there was an eerie sense of purpose in its presence—a silent observer waiting for something. Neither Luke nor Joanne noticed it, too caught up in their conversation, but the dog didn’t move, blending back into the shadows as they disappeared around the corner.

For a moment, the street fell into silence again, but the rough collie stood there, watching.

Joanne pressed a finger to her chin, her brow furrowed with concern. "You really think other Stand users are gonna come after us?"

Luke let out a small sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Well, duh," he muttered, glancing off to the side. "I think, um, you know how, like, birds know their way home even when they've never been there? It's like... a brain magnet or something."

Joanne tilted her head, still trying to piece together what Luke was saying.

Luke continued, "I think people with Stands have that. Like, we're sorta drawn to each other without even thinking about it. So yeah, other Stand users might show up, and not all of them are gonna be friendly."

Joanne's eyes widened, and she gave a small nod, the weight of Luke's words sinking in.

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dio-roga · 6 years ago

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CRYDE WEEK! Day Six Games 🍻

Okay so I might have cheated, but its New Year’s so… Drinking games. Right? …right? Hades.gif

There’s a little drabble thing under the break since god knows I need the writing practice.

[The Marsh Residence, New Year’s Eve]

“Alright sports fans,” Craig’s grin widens, hands drumming along the repurposed ping-pong table now playing host to a small army of shot glasses, “get your asses over here! Time to play.”

“Woo–!! Sports fans. I’m a sports fans!” Clyde calls out, spilling what little beer remains in his oversized plastic cup all over his shirt. Or at least, where his shirt would be if he hadn’t parted with it hours ago.

It was safe to say he was a little tipsy.

“You sure are buddy.” Stan smiles, swooping in and securing an arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders, keeping Clyde steady on his feet.

Potential disaster averted, Stan looks over at Craig,

“uh– we might want to get this going dude? I’m not sure how much longer Clyde’s got left in him,” He says, though he’s more worried the other boy’s only just warming up.

With his free hand, Stan habitually thumbs the bridge of his nose at the thought as Clyde continues to dance around shamelessly in his grasp.

“Firmly seconded.” Kyle sidles up alongside with a slow burning sigh, idly watching his super best friend continue to try corralling Clyde from getting his groove on too destructively,

“Hurry up and let’s go already. All of a sudden I’m feeling way too sober.”

“You’re always way too sober Jew,” Cartman says in a noticeably slurred southern drawl, making it hard to take him or the insult all that seriously– though Kyles scowl makes it obvious he’s found a way. Cartman shrugs, handing Kyle one of Craig’s meticulously laid out shot glasses,

“Here, get yourself white boy wasted. Then maybe that one guy on the football team you like will finally throw you a pity fuck.”

“Can’t you just die of liver poisoning already fat boy?” Kyle earnestly pleads– slamming back the drink regardless of its questionable source.

He grimaces at the taste, instinctively catching eyes with Stan before turning his apparent displeasure towards Craig instead, “Dude what the fuck? That’s water– a shot of water? What kind of game is this?”

“Russian Roulette,” Craig replies.

Kenny’s arms shoot up defensively, “I’m out.”

“Aw gee Ken, don’t be getting all jumpy,” Butters beams up at him, patting Kenny on the shoulder, “I’m sure he’s just talking about the party version– you know? Where you hide the vodka shots in with the water ones? Right Craig?”

“…Dude,” Craig blinks, as do many of the others. Bebe just laughs.

“Have you played th– actually, no shut up, I don’t need to know –but you’re right,” Craig stumbles on, in lieu of asking too many unwanted questions, ��half of these are straight vodka, the other half are wate–”

“Dude, is this a hickey?” Stan interrupts, brushing a fingertip over a mark on Clyde’s neck– having only just noticed it (and its friends) trailing down behind the other boy’s ear.

“Shush! Ssssh –dude, save questions for later,” Clyde bats Stan’s hand away, “I’m having trouble keeping up with these instructions as is,”

“God. Fuck it.” Craig gives up, reaching for a cigarette,

“Just go for it, if you get one with vodka just– I don’t know, kiss, take your pants off, some stupid dare– whatever. Let’s do this,” Then he barked, “Clyde!”

Clyde’s head snaps up, giving Stan a fond pat farewell before he races under Craig’s waiting arm instead, slipping in with practiced ease as Craig’s hand comes to rest dangerously low on Clyde’s hip.

He takes the offered shot from Craig; everyone else quickly following suit,

“Fuck yeah dudes– let’s get white boy wasted!” Clyde cheers.

#cryde #cryde week #south park #craig tucker #clyde donovan #very good chance clyde's pants don't survive the night #have an awesome 2019 dudes! 🎉#dioart

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