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madimpossibledreamer(as expected, unbeta'd. I'll talk about inspiration/sources in the Stands So Far once this bit is done, but if you know the legends let me know if/what I got wrong!)
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Johan's crew come face-to-face with the antagonist that has trapped them...
Word Count: 1288
Rating: Teen (Buffy's|Jojo gore)
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
So they follow the wolf and the sound of maraca-bones deeper into the viscera, and it can easily be described as a nightmarish experience. While Captain Beefheart has a decent enough imagination and filmmakers and game developers do a decent job jumpstarting the process using visual and audial cues, it’s no preparation for the real deal. Plenty of people have tried to describe the exact smell, and it’s…hard.
Oppressive. It’s easy to get used to the smell of blood when it’s from paper cuts or mishandling knives or cooking, but it’s different when there’s enough to squelch beneath her boots and hang like a mist of pain. It’s different when it’s mixed with the absolute stench of things decaying, like all the rotten food had been collected and just strewn about the landscape. She sees something wriggling in one of the carcasses from a distance and feels the urge to vomit. It’s one thing to see it on a screen, through graphics or CGI or whatever else is used to replicate the effects, another to see it in person. Maybe she should make them gas masks to at least filter the air a little. Panzermensch could probably make them some from just scraps of fabric.
“I’m going to be sick, Jojo,” Darling whispers quietly, squeezing Jojo’s hand.
“You can try breathing through your mouth. If you’re lucky, maybe our friendly neighborhood blond Brit has a handkerchief on him that you can tie around your mouth. Otherwise, think pleasant thoughts about another shopping trip where we hopefully won’t be spending all of Fitz’s money on clothes that don’t last long and we won’t get ambushed. Especially think about some cool new shoes. Adventuring gets hard on shoes.” But for the slight strain in Jojo’s voice, she’d have no idea that he was affected at all.
It was easy to dismiss the ‘copying a Great Old One’ move as just a plan conceived in desperation. Jojo’s stories as mere tall tales, told to amuse and to brag. That’s far too simple a conclusion, and is incorrect to boot. This is what it means to be born into a town like Arkham or Silent Hill. His sense of normal is completely warped and twisted, and while he can adjust his thinking somewhat, the base is firmly set. None of them has had a fully normal life, but for him, this is just another Monday.
So Fitz can produce a handkerchief, and Jojo can tease him about dimensionally transcendental pockets and wade through a small pond of blood without missing a step. He can also mock a figure of terror without a trace of worry. “So, uh, are we nearly there, or?” he asks, of all things sounding bored.
The wolf turns, rolling its shoulders in a very human-like way, bloodstained tongue (which appears to be cut in half) lolling as it yawns at them. “I suppose this is far enough, if you are impatient,” it agrees.
“Then I’d like to name you. Tukákame, king of the necrophagous demons, wannabe ruler of the underworld, Luna-araña, cousin of your followers, these lovely ‘birds of death’ we’ve been following.” It hadn’t just been a boast about the Spanish, either, because his accent sounds correct, even if her exposure mostly comes from dealing with tourists and other agents rather than academic studying or native learning. It snarls at the word ‘wannabe’—so perhaps it isn’t immune to being taunted, although that could easily become a pitfall if Jojo isn’t careful. “You’re kind of outside your little corner of the world, aren’t you? This isn’t the desert. There’s things like agua around.”
Fitz instantly perks up, and it’s clear this is also a message for him and his Stand. It’s entirely possible that Fitz has also read about the creature, which isn’t a Stand, after all, but something supernatural instead. Which unfortunately means a lack of Stand User to target.
The demon smiles with a mouth full of bloody fangs. And then it starts to change. “I didn’t think you’d be able to break through the mirage enough to remember that.” From the face Fitz makes, it’s entirely possible that’s the wrong translation, because his priorities are just about as warped as Jojo’s. The bloodstains remain, as does the painted mask on its face and the bones around its waist, but the humanoid skeleton is new, with horns and buzzard-like bone wings and darting eyes that look ready to pop out of the skull at any moment, which is definitely not a thought that the Captain should have thought. She swallows, trying to keep everything in her stomach, thanks. The matted hair looks black, for a moment, before the head turns just enough that she can see the blood, thick and sticky, keeping the strands of hair clumped together.
This had better not ruin the horror genre for her. Assuming she lives. Perhaps absurd thoughts are contagious.
“None of you are wicked enough to bother with your souls,” it continues, rasping, and Jojo snaps his fingers.
“Of course! But Wolfram & Hart employees are, and you’ve probably made some sort of deal for them to misbehave and you to, what, get help conquering the underworld so you actually can rule like you’ve always wanted?”
The demon throws its skull back and laughs. “Pity you’re not evil. I’d guess you could throw another few souls my way. Just like a few dying filthy rich clients.”
“Oh, I’m sure you love them filthy,” Jojo responds. He transitions smoothly into running, half-carrying Darling as he does so, the rest of them following a moment behind. It’s hard to tell whether she can actually feel breath on the back of her legs, but the snaps at their heels and the rush of air from the jaws following closely behind are not her imagination.
Pretender’s running alongside them, and she’s startled from wondering about that and attempting to select the precise use of Panzermensch in this situation, but the easy way the Stand reaches out and swings Jojo and Darling around the corner using a street lamp soon answers that question. She’d wonder more if the pack (is it a pack if it’s only three wolves?) tries, snarling, to follow him and fails to do so, sliding into the opposite wall and clattering into a pile of bones. Fortunately, they don’t attempt to rise again.
“I’m less effective with less water content, Jojo,” Fitz warns as if they’re not currently standing ankle-deep in a pool of blood, with splashing that indicates the rest of the bone army and—Tukákame, she thinks he called it—are on the way. That’s not even counting the bone-vultures. They’ve merely bought a brief respite for strategizing.
“I’ll try to get you your water,” Jojo promises, just as conversational. “This particular demon is related to vampires, who, long story short, are kind of my friend’s specialty, so it came up in a few of Giles’ books. I just couldn’t remember because of the dementia thing—so if you start having trouble remembering things or feel unmotivated or something, give me a holler and I’ll try to help. This isn’t the Moon-spider’s underworld domain, but it’s not the real world, either. I think it’s some kind of hallucinatory in-between. And that’s close enough to dreams I can affect it a little, but…” He shrugs, Pretender waving its hand over their faces like it’s trying to get their attention, and suddenly, while the stench isn’t gone, it’s less immediate. “I don’t want to try too hard because we’re going to need Pretender.”
“So…this isn’t real?” Darling asks, hesitant, and a dry chuckle joins them.
“It’s real enough to kill you, little girl.” And then the demonic army attacks.
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Johan's crew come face-to-face with the antagonist that has trapped them...
Word Count: 1288
Rating: Teen (Buffy's|Jojo gore)
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
So they follow the wolf and the sound of maraca-bones deeper into the viscera, and it can easily be described as a nightmarish experience. While Captain Beefheart has a decent enough imagination and filmmakers and game developers do a decent job jumpstarting the process using visual and audial cues, it’s no preparation for the real deal. Plenty of people have tried to describe the exact smell, and it’s…hard.
Oppressive. It’s easy to get used to the smell of blood when it’s from paper cuts or mishandling knives or cooking, but it’s different when there’s enough to squelch beneath her boots and hang like a mist of pain. It’s different when it’s mixed with the absolute stench of things decaying, like all the rotten food had been collected and just strewn about the landscape. She sees something wriggling in one of the carcasses from a distance and feels the urge to vomit. It’s one thing to see it on a screen, through graphics or CGI or whatever else is used to replicate the effects, another to see it in person. Maybe she should make them gas masks to at least filter the air a little. Panzermensch could probably make them some from just scraps of fabric.
“I’m going to be sick, Jojo,” Darling whispers quietly, squeezing Jojo’s hand.
“You can try breathing through your mouth. If you’re lucky, maybe our friendly neighborhood blond Brit has a handkerchief on him that you can tie around your mouth. Otherwise, think pleasant thoughts about another shopping trip where we hopefully won’t be spending all of Fitz’s money on clothes that don’t last long and we won’t get ambushed. Especially think about some cool new shoes. Adventuring gets hard on shoes.” But for the slight strain in Jojo’s voice, she’d have no idea that he was affected at all.
It was easy to dismiss the ‘copying a Great Old One’ move as just a plan conceived in desperation. Jojo’s stories as mere tall tales, told to amuse and to brag. That’s far too simple a conclusion, and is incorrect to boot. This is what it means to be born into a town like Arkham or Silent Hill. His sense of normal is completely warped and twisted, and while he can adjust his thinking somewhat, the base is firmly set. None of them has had a fully normal life, but for him, this is just another Monday.
So Fitz can produce a handkerchief, and Jojo can tease him about dimensionally transcendental pockets and wade through a small pond of blood without missing a step. He can also mock a figure of terror without a trace of worry. “So, uh, are we nearly there, or?” he asks, of all things sounding bored.
The wolf turns, rolling its shoulders in a very human-like way, bloodstained tongue (which appears to be cut in half) lolling as it yawns at them. “I suppose this is far enough, if you are impatient,” it agrees.
“Then I’d like to name you. Tukákame, king of the necrophagous demons, wannabe ruler of the underworld, Luna-araña, cousin of your followers, these lovely ‘birds of death’ we’ve been following.” It hadn’t just been a boast about the Spanish, either, because his accent sounds correct, even if her exposure mostly comes from dealing with tourists and other agents rather than academic studying or native learning. It snarls at the word ‘wannabe’—so perhaps it isn’t immune to being taunted, although that could easily become a pitfall if Jojo isn’t careful. “You’re kind of outside your little corner of the world, aren’t you? This isn’t the desert. There’s things like agua around.”
Fitz instantly perks up, and it’s clear this is also a message for him and his Stand. It’s entirely possible that Fitz has also read about the creature, which isn’t a Stand, after all, but something supernatural instead. Which unfortunately means a lack of Stand User to target.
The demon smiles with a mouth full of bloody fangs. And then it starts to change. “I didn’t think you’d be able to break through the mirage enough to remember that.” From the face Fitz makes, it’s entirely possible that’s the wrong translation, because his priorities are just about as warped as Jojo’s. The bloodstains remain, as does the painted mask on its face and the bones around its waist, but the humanoid skeleton is new, with horns and buzzard-like bone wings and darting eyes that look ready to pop out of the skull at any moment, which is definitely not a thought that the Captain should have thought. She swallows, trying to keep everything in her stomach, thanks. The matted hair looks black, for a moment, before the head turns just enough that she can see the blood, thick and sticky, keeping the strands of hair clumped together.
This had better not ruin the horror genre for her. Assuming she lives. Perhaps absurd thoughts are contagious.
“None of you are wicked enough to bother with your souls,” it continues, rasping, and Jojo snaps his fingers.
“Of course! But Wolfram & Hart employees are, and you’ve probably made some sort of deal for them to misbehave and you to, what, get help conquering the underworld so you actually can rule like you’ve always wanted?”
The demon throws its skull back and laughs. “Pity you’re not evil. I’d guess you could throw another few souls my way. Just like a few dying filthy rich clients.”
“Oh, I’m sure you love them filthy,” Jojo responds. He transitions smoothly into running, half-carrying Darling as he does so, the rest of them following a moment behind. It’s hard to tell whether she can actually feel breath on the back of her legs, but the snaps at their heels and the rush of air from the jaws following closely behind are not her imagination.
Pretender’s running alongside them, and she’s startled from wondering about that and attempting to select the precise use of Panzermensch in this situation, but the easy way the Stand reaches out and swings Jojo and Darling around the corner using a street lamp soon answers that question. She’d wonder more if the pack (is it a pack if it’s only three wolves?) tries, snarling, to follow him and fails to do so, sliding into the opposite wall and clattering into a pile of bones. Fortunately, they don’t attempt to rise again.
“I’m less effective with less water content, Jojo,” Fitz warns as if they’re not currently standing ankle-deep in a pool of blood, with splashing that indicates the rest of the bone army and—Tukákame, she thinks he called it—are on the way. That’s not even counting the bone-vultures. They’ve merely bought a brief respite for strategizing.
“I’ll try to get you your water,” Jojo promises, just as conversational. “This particular demon is related to vampires, who, long story short, are kind of my friend’s specialty, so it came up in a few of Giles’ books. I just couldn’t remember because of the dementia thing—so if you start having trouble remembering things or feel unmotivated or something, give me a holler and I’ll try to help. This isn’t the Moon-spider’s underworld domain, but it’s not the real world, either. I think it’s some kind of hallucinatory in-between. And that’s close enough to dreams I can affect it a little, but…” He shrugs, Pretender waving its hand over their faces like it’s trying to get their attention, and suddenly, while the stench isn’t gone, it’s less immediate. “I don’t want to try too hard because we’re going to need Pretender.”
“So…this isn’t real?” Darling asks, hesitant, and a dry chuckle joins them.
“It’s real enough to kill you, little girl.” And then the demonic army attacks.
