madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2019-01-04 12:02 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2019-01-04 12:02 pm
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 99
For kinda obvious reasons, I chose her name from one of the renditions of the musical Chicago (which I found really, really disturbing).
Also, this also has a Golden Wind feel. If Antonia had been just a little more lucky, she would've been like Calabrese.
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The narrator introduces you to one of the new characters.
Word Count: 860
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.
Warning: Offscreen noncon.
Her favorite superhero is Batman. When she was a child, she quickly learned that she had to be ruthless if she was to stand up for herself against her big brothers in real life or in the shooters they preferred. She got good at hiding, at setting up a sharpshooter’s nest and waiting for that moment of the kill. They might’ve been stronger, but they weren’t as creative. She used pens on joints, kicked ankles and knees. Her brothers might have been a little stupid, because they didn’t learn to stop picking on her for a long time, and you know the saying about people trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome.
Once, she pulled the legs off a grasshopper, but she felt bad about it. The grasshopper hadn’t done anything. Now, if it had been picking on others, that would’ve been one thing. She liked causing pain, but there had to be a good purpose. Because bad people deserved to suffer. Good people, sometimes, too. Because when she burned her hand on the oven, her mom told her that was a learning experience. The pain told her to not do that again. Good people, when their actions caused hurt, would notice that they’d hurt other people and not do it again. Or, if it was an off day and they hadn’t been paying any attention, would be hurt in retaliation, and realize why and not do it again.
The class autopsy of the frog was okay, but the frog was already dead, so it’s not like they were hurting a living creature with its own life ahead of it, and in the end, it had even died for a good purpose. If she didn’t get to grow up to be a vigilante, or, well, if she had to have a day job, because even Bruce Wayne had a secret identity, she could always be a mortician. She could cut into things and discover how people died, and her work could even catch the bad people. And she’d give them their day in court, and if the jury was made up of incompetent people, or good people not paying attention, or bad people, or a mix of all three, and they gave the wrong verdict—well, that’s when she could step in with her other career.
She was in martial arts and loved it. Here was a way to train, but more than that, here were people who understood that causing pain could be an art form, but it was all for a purpose. Training, learning who you were, becoming better people. Only the idiots messed with her then. Depending on what they wanted, she was more or less lenient. She didn’t tend to get in trouble, only from the girls, because none of the boys could admit that a girl beat them.
When she was fourteen, one of her friends went to one of those parties. Antonia knew it was going to be a bad idea, mostly because they always were. It would always seem like the end of the world if you weren’t in the in crowd, if people didn’t know your name or they did but for all the wrong reasons. Nobody made her friends cry, especially by taking things they didn’t deserve from someone who was passed out. And then when she made sure her friend was okay, and went to see what they had to say, the guys were still a little drunk. They drove off in their truck, and she followed them. And then when she caught up to them getting a few more supplies at the grocery store and laughing about it, about what they’d done, she knew they were bad people and they deserved everything that was coming to them.
It was self-defense, she said, because of course it was a public place and even boys whose pride was wounded couldn’t keep that a secret. Antonia was crying. It wasn’t hard when her friend was crying too, and anyway, they were tears of red-hot rage, not that any of those people on the jury could tell that. They’d been making jokes to the female clerk, too. The clerk backed her up.
She hadn’t known, but the defense lawyer had been one of Wolfram & Hart’s. She came onto their radar, then. Absolutely ruthless, he reported at the water coolers, eyes burning bright with a covetous fire. Creative with the truth. Would fit right in, assuming they could project the image of actually caring about the justice they profess to care about, given that they are a law firm and everything.
Devilish plans arose. An attack with an arrow, a little entrance test, all the while telling her that the target was a Bad Person who deserved everything she had coming to her. If she failed, well, they’d know more about whether Slayers stood a chance against Stands. Perhaps a departure from the usual Stand User recruitment method, but, well, violence like that deserved to be nurtured into a raging bonfire. And those plans were set in motion.
Also, this also has a Golden Wind feel. If Antonia had been just a little more lucky, she would've been like Calabrese.
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The narrator introduces you to one of the new characters.
Word Count: 860
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.
Warning: Offscreen noncon.
Antonia Ellis likes to think of herself as a vigilante.
Her favorite superhero is Batman. When she was a child, she quickly learned that she had to be ruthless if she was to stand up for herself against her big brothers in real life or in the shooters they preferred. She got good at hiding, at setting up a sharpshooter’s nest and waiting for that moment of the kill. They might’ve been stronger, but they weren’t as creative. She used pens on joints, kicked ankles and knees. Her brothers might have been a little stupid, because they didn’t learn to stop picking on her for a long time, and you know the saying about people trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome.
Once, she pulled the legs off a grasshopper, but she felt bad about it. The grasshopper hadn’t done anything. Now, if it had been picking on others, that would’ve been one thing. She liked causing pain, but there had to be a good purpose. Because bad people deserved to suffer. Good people, sometimes, too. Because when she burned her hand on the oven, her mom told her that was a learning experience. The pain told her to not do that again. Good people, when their actions caused hurt, would notice that they’d hurt other people and not do it again. Or, if it was an off day and they hadn’t been paying any attention, would be hurt in retaliation, and realize why and not do it again.
The class autopsy of the frog was okay, but the frog was already dead, so it’s not like they were hurting a living creature with its own life ahead of it, and in the end, it had even died for a good purpose. If she didn’t get to grow up to be a vigilante, or, well, if she had to have a day job, because even Bruce Wayne had a secret identity, she could always be a mortician. She could cut into things and discover how people died, and her work could even catch the bad people. And she’d give them their day in court, and if the jury was made up of incompetent people, or good people not paying attention, or bad people, or a mix of all three, and they gave the wrong verdict—well, that’s when she could step in with her other career.
She was in martial arts and loved it. Here was a way to train, but more than that, here were people who understood that causing pain could be an art form, but it was all for a purpose. Training, learning who you were, becoming better people. Only the idiots messed with her then. Depending on what they wanted, she was more or less lenient. She didn’t tend to get in trouble, only from the girls, because none of the boys could admit that a girl beat them.
When she was fourteen, one of her friends went to one of those parties. Antonia knew it was going to be a bad idea, mostly because they always were. It would always seem like the end of the world if you weren’t in the in crowd, if people didn’t know your name or they did but for all the wrong reasons. Nobody made her friends cry, especially by taking things they didn’t deserve from someone who was passed out. And then when she made sure her friend was okay, and went to see what they had to say, the guys were still a little drunk. They drove off in their truck, and she followed them. And then when she caught up to them getting a few more supplies at the grocery store and laughing about it, about what they’d done, she knew they were bad people and they deserved everything that was coming to them.
It was self-defense, she said, because of course it was a public place and even boys whose pride was wounded couldn’t keep that a secret. Antonia was crying. It wasn’t hard when her friend was crying too, and anyway, they were tears of red-hot rage, not that any of those people on the jury could tell that. They’d been making jokes to the female clerk, too. The clerk backed her up.
She hadn’t known, but the defense lawyer had been one of Wolfram & Hart’s. She came onto their radar, then. Absolutely ruthless, he reported at the water coolers, eyes burning bright with a covetous fire. Creative with the truth. Would fit right in, assuming they could project the image of actually caring about the justice they profess to care about, given that they are a law firm and everything.
Devilish plans arose. An attack with an arrow, a little entrance test, all the while telling her that the target was a Bad Person who deserved everything she had coming to her. If she failed, well, they’d know more about whether Slayers stood a chance against Stands. Perhaps a departure from the usual Stand User recruitment method, but, well, violence like that deserved to be nurtured into a raging bonfire. And those plans were set in motion.