#ignore me jo is bein dumb

[fluera]

this doesn’t have anything to do w anything ive just been gone for a while and super dont care about a lot of things rn such as anons tellin me shit i already knoooow but i have been feelin myself lately and think ive been lookin real nice since being back from my portland trip who cares if its not munday 

also below is my hand poke tattoo i got from the raddest and nicest designer ever that i got to just sit and talk w for 2 hours as he stabbed me w a needle nonstop

[psychosistr]

Second Chances & Bloody Nights- Jonawagon Vampire!AU Chapter 4

Summary: Speedwagon finds out that Jonathan’s upset and rushes back to England to comfort him..but will he be too late..?

Speedwagon finished signing a few documents while seated at a small table in a hotel room. Reading over them once more to make sure everything was in order, he sighed and set them aside.

“There..all done for now..” He leaned back in his wooden chair and glanced at the contracts and deeds he’d just signed. “Still..can’t quite believe it..THAT much money jus’ for findin’ some oil..guess this is wha’ they call dumb luck..”

He managed a small smile at his good fortune. His ship crashing was quite a catastrophe, and he was certain that he would either die at sea or when he’d washed up in an unknown patch of land with no signs of food, water, or civilization for miles. While lost, he’d come across a large field filled with oil wells, which he then acquired the rights to after finding his way to the nearest towns. A few phone calls, a hired lawyer, and several pieces of paperwork later, and Speedwagon was now the rightful owner of a grand fortune’s worth of oil.

Of course, even with his new found wealth, the first thing he’d sought to do was get in contact with his friends back in Ogre Street to let them know he was alright. Unfortunately, this was not an easy task as none of them had ready access to a phone, so he ended up having to call several other people and businesses he knew of in the area and asking them to pass along his message and the phone number of the hotel where they could reach him.

Speedwagon tipped back in his chair and removed his hat, idly spinning it around one finger as he thought to himself. ‘I wonder ‘ow Jonathan’s doin’. ‘ope ‘e’s gettin’ enough t’ eat without me around..’

As if by fate, at that moment one of the hotel workers knocked on his door. “Mr.Speedwagon, there’s a phone call for you in the lobby.”

Speedwagon got up from his chair and called back, flipping his hat back up onto his head. “Thank ya kindly, mate.” After making sure his clothes were in order (he’d had to buy some simple shirts and slacks, as most of his clothes were lost in the ship wreck- the only thing he’d managed to salvage was Baron Zeppeli’s hat), Speedwagon made his way to the hotel’s lobby where the main phone for the guests was located. He picked up the receiver and leaned against the nearby wall as he spoke. “Speedwagon ‘ere.”

“Speedwagon! Bloody ‘ell, man! You’re alive?!” He heard Tattoo’s shocked voice on the other end of the line and smiled.

“Good t’ ‘ear from you too, Tatty. Yeah, I’m alive.” He chuckled a bit with a grin, glad to hear a familiar voice again. “Ya won’t believe wha’ ‘appened, mate! I-”

“Ya’ve gotta come ‘ome NOW, Speedwagon!” Tattoo’s voice had taken on a desperate, urgent tone that instantly set off warning bells in Speedwagon’s head.

“Wha’ ‘appened?” He listened as Tattoo explained the situation to him, his face going pale and his heart dropping like a stone into his gut.

His next call was to book a ship back to England.

Speedwagon practically ran from the carriage that brought him from the docks to his street, barely even taking the time to pay the driver and just throwing a handful of money at him after telling him to keep the change. When he arrived at his home, he saw Tattoo and Kempo Master waiting outside for him. He stopped in front of them to catch his breath and took in the state of his small house: The windows and front door were all boarded up with thick slabs of wood and chains, some even having sheets and poles of steel added in for good measure. Even with the secure defenses, though, he could see where something- or rather, someone- had managed to break holes in the wood and metal and more had to be added to patch up the holes. Poor Tattoo and Kempo Master looked absolutely exhausted to boot, likely from being on-guard day and night in shifts to make sure that the beast raging inside of the house didn’t get out or get burned by a sunlit opening during the day.

Speedwagon looked to his friends with a worried expression. “You two alrigh’? Nothin’ broken or bit?”

Tattoo shook his head, indicating a few bandages on his hands and a few along Kempo Master’s arms. “Nah, jus’ some scrapes an’ bruises. We’ve ‘ad worse.”

Speedwagon was relieved to hear that, he had been greatly worried about their safety after he heard what had happened. Looking back to the house, though, he felt more worried about its current occupant. “Wha’ ‘bout Jonathan? He got anythin’ t’ eat since ‘e lost it?”

Kempo Master shrugged and gestured with his thumb towards some of the holes in the building. “We threw a few animals in there whenever we went to patch up the holes, but we cannot tell if he has eaten any of them.”

Speedwagon nodded in understanding, mentally preparing himself for the worst. “Right, then. I’ll be ‘eadin’ in now. You guys go on ‘ome an’ get some rest- ya’ve more than earned it.”

Tattoo put a hand on Speedwagon’s shoulder with a concerned look. “Y’ sure tha’s a good idea, Speed? We know ya like the guy, but Mr.Joestar ain’t exactly ‘imself righ’ now.”

Kempo Master nodded sympathetically in agreement. “Mr.Joestar may not recognize you in his current state. You could be hurt, or worse. It may be a good idea to call those hamon monks in for help.”

Speedwagon shook his head, giving Tattoo’s arm an understanding pat before lightly shoving it off. “No can do, mate. I’ve been tryin’ for years t’ see if they’d understand the idea of a vampire NOT bein’ an out o’ control monster, but they just can’t wrap their ‘eads ‘round it. They’d probably jus’ try t’ put Jonathan out o’ ‘is misery.” He gave them a slight smile. “ ‘sides, it’ll be alrigh’- Jonathan’s a strong guy. ‘e’s beaten these urges before, ‘e can do it again. I trust that ‘e won’ ‘urt me too much.” He walked towards the door. “Now, let’s get this open. Seal it behind me an’ don’ open up ‘til I say so, got it?”

Tattoo and Kempo Master nodded in understanding and got to work unsealing the door.

Speedwagon walked slowly through his house, careful not to step on any broken pieces of glass from the windows or various odds and ends that had been broken and scattered along the floor.

He thought with a frown that, somehow, the inside of the building now looked worse than the outside: There were broken pieces of furniture scattered all around, remnants of bookshelves and the couch and their dining room table found throughout the building. The stove had been torn from the hinges and lobbed clean through a wall into the living room. The fire place had been smashed in until it was nothing more than a pile of bricks in the wall. The few doors that were in the house, such as the bathroom and bedroom door, were smashed to smithereens by this point. There were also the occasional drained carcasses of various dead animals scattered throughout, which was at least a good sign that Jonathan had eaten SOMETHING while he was gone.

Speedwagon stopped for a moment in the living room to look at the wall, relieved to see that the pictures on it were spared from the carnage the rest of the house had endured. However, the one of himself and Jonathan was missing from the wall, though he did not see it smashed on the ground, so he took that as a good sign.

Carefully checking around each corner before entering a room, Speedwagon searched for Jonathan. It wasn’t until he neared the bedroom that he heard a soft keening sound that reminded him of a wounded beast crying. When he poked his head around the door frame to see the source of the noise, his heart nearly broke at the sight.

Jonathan was curled up on the tattered remains of the bed, a few of Speedwagon’s suits lying on the floor around him, as well as Speedwagon’s old bowler hat which was resting nearby on the bed. He was clinging desperately to something- a picture frame, Speedwagon soon realized, which was likely the missing one from the living room. Jonathan was facing towards him, with his eyes wide open, but did not seem to notice him there- his eyes the brightest shade of red that Speedwagon has ever seen them and over flowing with tears on an already tear-stained face. The state of his hair and clothes was dreadful, the outfit stained with blood and torn at the seams while his hair looks positively caked with all manner of filth.

Speedwagon frowned at the sight of what’d become of his dear Jonathan, feeling even guiltier for how long it took him to get back. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves and gather his confidence, Speedwagon took a slow step into the room. “Jonathan..?” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to startle the other man while he was in such an unstable state of mind.

Jonathan perked up at the sound of Speedwagon’s voice, red eyes instantly fixing on him but still not showing any signs of recognition. “!!” A sound akin to a growl reverberated in Jonathan’s chest, a clear warning to stay away as he clutched the picture frame tighter. “……”

Speedwagon ignored the warning and took another step into the room, standing in the doorway. “Jonathan..it’s me- it’s Speedwagon.”

That seemed to garner some sort of reaction from the larger man, though not quite a positive one. “Sp..eed..wa..gon…” The name was a broken growl through clenched teeth that was soon followed by another keening sob that made Jonathan tilt his head down to look at the picture in his arms. “Speed..wagon..’s…dead…” His mouth pulled back in a snarl as more tears flowed down his face.

Speedwagon shook his head as he cautiously moved closer to Jonathan, feeling like he was approaching an agitated dog. Though, in all honesty, that analogy didn’t feel too far off. “No, Jonathan, I’m alive. I’m right ‘ere, see?” He tried to give him a smile, but it felt forced even to himself. “Look, I’m awful sorry y’ went through all this, but I’m ‘ere now-”

As he moved closer, Speedwagon was suddenly greeted with an up-close and personal view of a very enraged vampire-Jonathan that he’d hoped not to see. “Be..silent..” Jonathan growled at him, his eyes glowing like twin flames of broiling anger. Jonathan brought his large hand up and wrapped it around Speedwagon’s throat, lifting him up off of the floor in a choking grip. To make matters worse, two of his fingers plunged into Speedwagon’s neck to drain his blood, adding to the light-headedness he was experiencing from the lack of oxygen.

Speedwagon tried to gasp for breath around the tight grip on his throat, but it was pointless. He placed both of his hands on Jonathan’s own large hand and attempted to pry it off of himself, but Jonathan’s already above-average strength had only increased when he became a vampire so nothing less than a crowbar would be required just to move a single digit.

While the spacey and dazed feeling of combined blood loss and asphyxiation began to kick in, Speedwagon looked down from his raised position and saw that Jonathan, despite the enraged snarl marring his handsome face, still had tears falling across his cheeks. In a move that was partially driven by the love he had for the noble man and partly due to his own kind nature, Speedwagon reached down with one hand and managed to gently caress Jonathan’s cheek and wipe away his tears. “Jo..jo…” He managed to wheeze out around the crushing grip on his windpipe. “S’okay..Jojo..don’..cry…Jon..a…than…”

His vision began to blur around the edges, but he swore he saw something change in those eyes…

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