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madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The Lord of Death gets serious.
Word Count: 1303
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
Warning: Jojo's/Buffy violence.
It might turn out that he’s smarter than any of them except maybe the two in charge, which haven’t shown their faces at all. Darling hopes desperately she hasn’t just jinxed them. They already have enough to deal with when it comes to this fight in particular.
Probably more importantly, he’d been playing around with them, not seriously trying to kill them. Maybe he’d been trying to gauge them as opponents, maybe he was just dragging it out because it’d been a while since he’d gotten to fight. The other Lords of Death had been pretty single-minded when it came to trying to kill them. Buluc Chabtan had bothered to put in some work to learn their strengths and weaknesses, and as such was in a much better position to actually manage it.
With the speed he can close a distance, too, he’d been letting them keep him at a distance, even though the frustration was probably genuine. He doesn’t bother to throw the spear and doesn’t have distance-type weapons, so he probably doesn’t enjoy the death of a foe unless he actually sees and/or possibly feels the spray of blood, as terrifying a thought as that is. He’d been hoping one of them would actually go for hand-to-hand, only none of them did.
Darling doesn’t have the time to respond as he’s suddenly standing in front of her, ignoring the further arrows and bullets lodging in his skin. The force with which she’s thrown into the wall is…
The only real words she has to describe it are ‘unbearable pain’. Her brain can’t calculate how fast she was thrown or the force involved. The crunch is real familiar, though. It’s not the first time one of her bones has been broken, but more than one at once? That’s new in original and horrible ways. It takes her a moment to realize that the scream is her own, because in all the ways she doesn’t want to be she’s outside her own body and trapped inside at the same time. There’s no spurt, no sudden metallic stink, so it’s probably not like she’s bleeding a lot externally, but it’s not like bleeding underneath her own skin is a good thing really, either.
She tries to force herself to breathe, but even that hurts in new and unusual ways that bring tears to her eyes, like she isn’t already having enough trouble seeing. The dark filter over her vision that keeps moving around, she’s pretty sure, has to do with the fact that she’s not breathing, which is why she’s trying to prioritize that. It’s only sort of working. Sort of, because she can get in a few gulps but the added pain is sharp and kind of stabbing.
She finally manages to make out that Von Stroheim charged with a scream, and is actually vaguely managing to hold her own with what’s probably some kind of sword, judging by the flashing of something metallic. It’s still really vague, and her ears are ringing, but just trying to concentrate on one pain isn’t working too well because there’s too many, competing for her attention.
She screams again but for once there’s a touch that doesn’t hurt, as she’s cradled in a protective hug of illumination and reassurance. “It’s okay; I’ve got you,” she thinks he’s saying. “Just let it out. I’ve got you.”
And then he’s healed just enough, and the pain has receded just enough from the shore of life or something, that Darling realizes with perfect clarity what’s wrong.
Buluc Chabtan had managed to throw her perfectly into one of the blades. She doesn’t know where exactly it hit. She didn’t even feel it, compared to the more immediate pains of broken bones, but she knows now with complete and utter certainty that whatever it was, it was vital.
Mr. Brown is trying to heal her, but either he’s finally reaching his breaking point when it comes to healing, or she’s just that badly off, but either way he’s just postponing the inevitable. In a few minutes, she’ll be dead.
She’s thought about it before, death. Maybe one of her foster families will go too far. Maybe someone will rob her when she’s asleep, or worse. Maybe one of the nights she’s in a nest that’s not quite warm enough it’ll get just a little too cold. Maybe she’ll just fall off the side of a building she decided to climb, to explore or for the night or to steal from somebody. Maybe one of the abandoned buildings will actually be dangerous, from mold or worse or the floor will give way. Maybe it won’t be as abandoned as it looks.
She’d always thought she’d be terrified. Not like she deserves better; she hadn’t thought that for a long while, because no one had told her that, and the omission was pretty clear and common. Just…a pathetic, lonely little death that no one would remember.
She’s not terrified now. She’s furious. Because here she is. She managed to figure out who killed her foster parents. Even if they weren’t very good, they were hers, and knowing that and stopping the murderer was better than attending their funeral and trying to come up with pretty words anyway. She managed to make friends, who did tell her she deserved better, even if they didn’t say that out loud, and that omission this time didn’t speak for them. Their actions did. She’d grown as a person. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. This was about a future, a future that she wanted to see and she absolutely would see and it was absolute shit that she was dying.
Something else feels like it breaks. This time, though, it doesn’t hurt. If she’s not hallucinating, it actually feels like a good kind of break, leaving behind a glow of satisfaction like when she lockpicks her way into a door. Whisper’s colorful feathers flare wide in her vision, or whatever flickering version she still has left. On a good day, they’ve got a slight metallic sheen like they’re covered in water or oil, but now they look like they’re actually glowing. Maybe that’s just the hamon.
And then suddenly even the remaining pain disappears. For a moment Darling’s kind of worried she’d just failed her last chance, when she hears Mr. Brown gasp, and she couldn’t have done that if she was actually dead. Maybe she’ll get her happy story after all, with no ending in sight anytime soon.
She glances up, and her vision’s fine, and as she glares Whisper flies past Buluc Chabtan and Von Stroheim, who are actually trading blows. The Captain looks a little tired, though, while the deity just keeps going, ruthless and efficient. One of Whisper’s feathers falls on the deity’s back, like he’s shedding, and the Lord of Death’s arm just…breaks as he tries to block another quick stab, but that’s not the worst thing.
The worst thing is the stream of blood down his front, the gaping hole through flesh and still-beating heart, and it’s easy to figure out what that’s about, because for every wound appearing on him, she can feel an echo of that pain still like it’s hers. Because each and every one of those injuries had been hers. Even now, she needs Mr. Brown’s help to get to her feet, and can’t quite breathe, and even that doesn’t seem like the decisive blow she’d hoped, because he’s still on his feet.
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The Lord of Death gets serious.
Word Count: 1303
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
Warning: Jojo's/Buffy violence.
Very quickly, it becomes apparent that the speed Buluc Chabtan showed when he’d appeared around the corner of Darling’ hiding space was not a fluke. Apparently with the way he’s moving now, he’d been humoring them, playing into their perception of him as slow and unintelligent. Like some of the others they’ve fought, maybe.
It might turn out that he’s smarter than any of them except maybe the two in charge, which haven’t shown their faces at all. Darling hopes desperately she hasn’t just jinxed them. They already have enough to deal with when it comes to this fight in particular.
Probably more importantly, he’d been playing around with them, not seriously trying to kill them. Maybe he’d been trying to gauge them as opponents, maybe he was just dragging it out because it’d been a while since he’d gotten to fight. The other Lords of Death had been pretty single-minded when it came to trying to kill them. Buluc Chabtan had bothered to put in some work to learn their strengths and weaknesses, and as such was in a much better position to actually manage it.
With the speed he can close a distance, too, he’d been letting them keep him at a distance, even though the frustration was probably genuine. He doesn’t bother to throw the spear and doesn’t have distance-type weapons, so he probably doesn’t enjoy the death of a foe unless he actually sees and/or possibly feels the spray of blood, as terrifying a thought as that is. He’d been hoping one of them would actually go for hand-to-hand, only none of them did.
Darling doesn’t have the time to respond as he’s suddenly standing in front of her, ignoring the further arrows and bullets lodging in his skin. The force with which she’s thrown into the wall is…
The only real words she has to describe it are ‘unbearable pain’. Her brain can’t calculate how fast she was thrown or the force involved. The crunch is real familiar, though. It’s not the first time one of her bones has been broken, but more than one at once? That’s new in original and horrible ways. It takes her a moment to realize that the scream is her own, because in all the ways she doesn’t want to be she’s outside her own body and trapped inside at the same time. There’s no spurt, no sudden metallic stink, so it’s probably not like she’s bleeding a lot externally, but it’s not like bleeding underneath her own skin is a good thing really, either.
She tries to force herself to breathe, but even that hurts in new and unusual ways that bring tears to her eyes, like she isn’t already having enough trouble seeing. The dark filter over her vision that keeps moving around, she’s pretty sure, has to do with the fact that she’s not breathing, which is why she’s trying to prioritize that. It’s only sort of working. Sort of, because she can get in a few gulps but the added pain is sharp and kind of stabbing.
She finally manages to make out that Von Stroheim charged with a scream, and is actually vaguely managing to hold her own with what’s probably some kind of sword, judging by the flashing of something metallic. It’s still really vague, and her ears are ringing, but just trying to concentrate on one pain isn’t working too well because there’s too many, competing for her attention.
She screams again but for once there’s a touch that doesn’t hurt, as she’s cradled in a protective hug of illumination and reassurance. “It’s okay; I’ve got you,” she thinks he’s saying. “Just let it out. I’ve got you.”
And then he’s healed just enough, and the pain has receded just enough from the shore of life or something, that Darling realizes with perfect clarity what’s wrong.
Buluc Chabtan had managed to throw her perfectly into one of the blades. She doesn’t know where exactly it hit. She didn’t even feel it, compared to the more immediate pains of broken bones, but she knows now with complete and utter certainty that whatever it was, it was vital.
Mr. Brown is trying to heal her, but either he’s finally reaching his breaking point when it comes to healing, or she’s just that badly off, but either way he’s just postponing the inevitable. In a few minutes, she’ll be dead.
She’s thought about it before, death. Maybe one of her foster families will go too far. Maybe someone will rob her when she’s asleep, or worse. Maybe one of the nights she’s in a nest that’s not quite warm enough it’ll get just a little too cold. Maybe she’ll just fall off the side of a building she decided to climb, to explore or for the night or to steal from somebody. Maybe one of the abandoned buildings will actually be dangerous, from mold or worse or the floor will give way. Maybe it won’t be as abandoned as it looks.
She’d always thought she’d be terrified. Not like she deserves better; she hadn’t thought that for a long while, because no one had told her that, and the omission was pretty clear and common. Just…a pathetic, lonely little death that no one would remember.
She’s not terrified now. She’s furious. Because here she is. She managed to figure out who killed her foster parents. Even if they weren’t very good, they were hers, and knowing that and stopping the murderer was better than attending their funeral and trying to come up with pretty words anyway. She managed to make friends, who did tell her she deserved better, even if they didn’t say that out loud, and that omission this time didn’t speak for them. Their actions did. She’d grown as a person. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. This was about a future, a future that she wanted to see and she absolutely would see and it was absolute shit that she was dying.
Something else feels like it breaks. This time, though, it doesn’t hurt. If she’s not hallucinating, it actually feels like a good kind of break, leaving behind a glow of satisfaction like when she lockpicks her way into a door. Whisper’s colorful feathers flare wide in her vision, or whatever flickering version she still has left. On a good day, they’ve got a slight metallic sheen like they’re covered in water or oil, but now they look like they’re actually glowing. Maybe that’s just the hamon.
And then suddenly even the remaining pain disappears. For a moment Darling’s kind of worried she’d just failed her last chance, when she hears Mr. Brown gasp, and she couldn’t have done that if she was actually dead. Maybe she’ll get her happy story after all, with no ending in sight anytime soon.
She glances up, and her vision’s fine, and as she glares Whisper flies past Buluc Chabtan and Von Stroheim, who are actually trading blows. The Captain looks a little tired, though, while the deity just keeps going, ruthless and efficient. One of Whisper’s feathers falls on the deity’s back, like he’s shedding, and the Lord of Death’s arm just…breaks as he tries to block another quick stab, but that’s not the worst thing.
The worst thing is the stream of blood down his front, the gaping hole through flesh and still-beating heart, and it’s easy to figure out what that’s about, because for every wound appearing on him, she can feel an echo of that pain still like it’s hers. Because each and every one of those injuries had been hers. Even now, she needs Mr. Brown’s help to get to her feet, and can’t quite breathe, and even that doesn’t seem like the decisive blow she’d hoped, because he’s still on his feet.
