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madimpossibledreamer) wrote2023-11-10 05:04 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2023-11-10 05:04 pm
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Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 300
Happy 400300th chapter! Except not 'cause it's a bit gruesome.
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: There's a reason this part of Xibalba was abandoned.
Word Count: 1459
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
Warning: Canon-typical violence aftermath might be traumatic in light of events in Israel; Viewer Discretion Advised (Beta-senpai thought it deserved a warning, so a warning it gets)
Once they get going, though, the widening passage is, in fact, a room, covered in dust and cobwebs. No treasure, unfortunately, although it’s not exactly like they’re in a position to actually take anything to bring back to a museum. Not that Josie happened to work for one, either, though apparently great-great-grandpa Jonathan had been an archaeologist, which was cool. Or at least, he’d studied. Grandpa Joseph was a bit unclear as to whether he’d actually gotten to do anything with that degree, which marks another thing that blond undead freak had stolen from the family, but maybe she shouldn’t be thinking about that at the moment. And maybe sometimes some things didn’t belong in museums. Foreign ones, anyway. She’d donate anything she found to a local Mexico museum, assuming she’s even in a position to do that, but it’s probably a moot point, anyway.
The room is not, however, empty, because twelve terribly burnt human husks are seated over there at what looks like a royal’s regal throne room, or whatever. Humanoid, anyway.
And there’s offerings—well, fake offerings, anyway—in front of them, what looks like a clay heart and a plate painted with peeling gold and things like that.
That one over there at the end of the table, the one nearest what’s probably the exit, looks like a weird human-bird hybrid, with colorful feathers dulled by time and a cracking if wicked looking beak and everything. Other than his human-looking counterpart at the other end of the table, he’s wearing the most bling, though most of it is tarnished and dull and it looks like any actual gold might have been ripped off the corpses uncaring, because there’s actual rips and tears in what remains of, for instance, the earlobes. The buzzards that picked this place clean weren’t birds. And yeah, sure, she’d like some actual ancient treasure, but she’s not going to rip it off a corpse, either.
Next to the important-looking human one, with a headdress that’s falling apart and what looks like the remains of a painted skull on the sunken face, there’s two covered in dried blood so thick it’s starting to flake. One of them looks especially crispy, while the other inexplicably sounds like there’s blood still dripping, despite it all being dried. At least visibly. Ugh. Josie doesn’t want to know.
Then, there a single bloated corpse, unlike the rest, which have shrunken. It might even be yellowish, and it looks like someone poked some holes with sticks, and Josie can kind of smell the stench from here, and yeah, not investigating that either, given that there’s probably no showers for miles and miles, even assuming they’re in the real world anymore. She’s getting the feeling they’re not. It feels like when she’s using We’ll Be Waiting, like someone’s just smashed an area of unreality between two pieces of reality as the walkway.
Then, glaringly, a single empty seat. Which is concerning. Josie’s concerned.
Two after that are holding bone-rods that almost look like they’ve been fashioned into staffs or something, which is fascinatingly weird. They look kind of more hefty than you’d assume from a bone—like, you’d expect it to splinter, but those look pretty sturdy. Magic, maybe. She kind of wants to test one but like hell is she breaking nasty dead fingers to get it. One of them is wearing an uncomfortable-looking stone headdress with fading paint stripes crudely painted on, but...she squints further. Yep. Looks like it’s supposed to be a replica of something, carved, painted, and left to taunt...whoever this is. The other has what might be paint smeared into the skin cracks from the burning.
The next two seats have—well, one of them has what looks like a map carved into the skin, the other, with a split tongue (probably done by knife, possibly done as a fashion statement rather than whatever hatefest revenge plot this was) has a hand on a dagger stuck in his own flesh. Whether he’s trying to push it out or in is unclear.
The last two, other than the bird-man, are draped uncomfortably between the table and chair-throne and look like they have their face stretched, somehow, and yeah, okay, she’s just writing off this whole room, let’s go already. At least they understood the ‘creep factor’ assignment, but also, yeesh.
Giles, it seems, didn’t get that memo, because he steps forward, fascinated. “This must be the Lords of Xibalba, after the revenge of the Hero Twins. That there must be Hun-Camé, one of the two who rule above the rest, and that one there must be Cuchumaquic, the god of fire—” from which being even more burnt than the others would be a blow direct to the ego, yeah.
Willow gasps, and around the same time Cugino Giorno speaks up, voice slightly sharp. “They’re still alive—as much as anything is, in this place.” And yeah, it looks like eyes, slightly shrunken but still hateful, are following their moves as much as it’s possible physically.
“These,” their cat-deity tour guide states with a ghoulish relish, haughty contempt a thread in his voice, “...are the former Xibalban Lords of Death, deposed after the aforementioned uprising by the Hero Twins. They can’t speak, but they’d undoubtedly want to offer you their finest hospitality. A banquet, even, if they could still move or had any servants left to bring food.” In response, Cousin Jotaro stoops to pick up a stone and casually tosses it to the so-called open seats. The sizzling like it’s a skillet is audible, maybe even amplified by the space of the room. He decisively places a hand back in his pocket like he’s holstering a weapon, but then, he has the right for dramatics, because that pretty clearly articulated his opinion of the idea without saying a word.
One of the faces twitches, like it’s trying to glower further.
“Moving on,” Buffy states firmly, and the quiet way they follow her lead suggests that everyone is fully on board with that plan. Josie doesn’t stop feeling watched until they’re out of sight of the room, and that kinda thing doesn’t usually bother her.
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: There's a reason this part of Xibalba was abandoned.
Word Count: 1459
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
Warning: Canon-typical violence aftermath might be traumatic in light of events in Israel; Viewer Discretion Advised (Beta-senpai thought it deserved a warning, so a warning it gets)
Several of them are a little impatient as they have to wait a little, but none more than Balam, surprisingly. He’s trying to be aloof and aristocratically above the irritation of everything, but the twitch of his tail is giving him away. At least, if he has anything in common with earth-cats.
Once they get going, though, the widening passage is, in fact, a room, covered in dust and cobwebs. No treasure, unfortunately, although it’s not exactly like they’re in a position to actually take anything to bring back to a museum. Not that Josie happened to work for one, either, though apparently great-great-grandpa Jonathan had been an archaeologist, which was cool. Or at least, he’d studied. Grandpa Joseph was a bit unclear as to whether he’d actually gotten to do anything with that degree, which marks another thing that blond undead freak had stolen from the family, but maybe she shouldn’t be thinking about that at the moment. And maybe sometimes some things didn’t belong in museums. Foreign ones, anyway. She’d donate anything she found to a local Mexico museum, assuming she’s even in a position to do that, but it’s probably a moot point, anyway.
The room is not, however, empty, because twelve terribly burnt human husks are seated over there at what looks like a royal’s regal throne room, or whatever. Humanoid, anyway.
And there’s offerings—well, fake offerings, anyway—in front of them, what looks like a clay heart and a plate painted with peeling gold and things like that.
That one over there at the end of the table, the one nearest what’s probably the exit, looks like a weird human-bird hybrid, with colorful feathers dulled by time and a cracking if wicked looking beak and everything. Other than his human-looking counterpart at the other end of the table, he’s wearing the most bling, though most of it is tarnished and dull and it looks like any actual gold might have been ripped off the corpses uncaring, because there’s actual rips and tears in what remains of, for instance, the earlobes. The buzzards that picked this place clean weren’t birds. And yeah, sure, she’d like some actual ancient treasure, but she’s not going to rip it off a corpse, either.
Next to the important-looking human one, with a headdress that’s falling apart and what looks like the remains of a painted skull on the sunken face, there’s two covered in dried blood so thick it’s starting to flake. One of them looks especially crispy, while the other inexplicably sounds like there’s blood still dripping, despite it all being dried. At least visibly. Ugh. Josie doesn’t want to know.
Then, there a single bloated corpse, unlike the rest, which have shrunken. It might even be yellowish, and it looks like someone poked some holes with sticks, and Josie can kind of smell the stench from here, and yeah, not investigating that either, given that there’s probably no showers for miles and miles, even assuming they’re in the real world anymore. She’s getting the feeling they’re not. It feels like when she’s using We’ll Be Waiting, like someone’s just smashed an area of unreality between two pieces of reality as the walkway.
Then, glaringly, a single empty seat. Which is concerning. Josie’s concerned.
Two after that are holding bone-rods that almost look like they’ve been fashioned into staffs or something, which is fascinatingly weird. They look kind of more hefty than you’d assume from a bone—like, you’d expect it to splinter, but those look pretty sturdy. Magic, maybe. She kind of wants to test one but like hell is she breaking nasty dead fingers to get it. One of them is wearing an uncomfortable-looking stone headdress with fading paint stripes crudely painted on, but...she squints further. Yep. Looks like it’s supposed to be a replica of something, carved, painted, and left to taunt...whoever this is. The other has what might be paint smeared into the skin cracks from the burning.
The next two seats have—well, one of them has what looks like a map carved into the skin, the other, with a split tongue (probably done by knife, possibly done as a fashion statement rather than whatever hatefest revenge plot this was) has a hand on a dagger stuck in his own flesh. Whether he’s trying to push it out or in is unclear.
The last two, other than the bird-man, are draped uncomfortably between the table and chair-throne and look like they have their face stretched, somehow, and yeah, okay, she’s just writing off this whole room, let’s go already. At least they understood the ‘creep factor’ assignment, but also, yeesh.
Giles, it seems, didn’t get that memo, because he steps forward, fascinated. “This must be the Lords of Xibalba, after the revenge of the Hero Twins. That there must be Hun-Camé, one of the two who rule above the rest, and that one there must be Cuchumaquic, the god of fire—” from which being even more burnt than the others would be a blow direct to the ego, yeah.
Willow gasps, and around the same time Cugino Giorno speaks up, voice slightly sharp. “They’re still alive—as much as anything is, in this place.” And yeah, it looks like eyes, slightly shrunken but still hateful, are following their moves as much as it’s possible physically.
“These,” their cat-deity tour guide states with a ghoulish relish, haughty contempt a thread in his voice, “...are the former Xibalban Lords of Death, deposed after the aforementioned uprising by the Hero Twins. They can’t speak, but they’d undoubtedly want to offer you their finest hospitality. A banquet, even, if they could still move or had any servants left to bring food.” In response, Cousin Jotaro stoops to pick up a stone and casually tosses it to the so-called open seats. The sizzling like it’s a skillet is audible, maybe even amplified by the space of the room. He decisively places a hand back in his pocket like he’s holstering a weapon, but then, he has the right for dramatics, because that pretty clearly articulated his opinion of the idea without saying a word.
One of the faces twitches, like it’s trying to glower further.
“Moving on,” Buffy states firmly, and the quiet way they follow her lead suggests that everyone is fully on board with that plan. Josie doesn’t stop feeling watched until they’re out of sight of the room, and that kinda thing doesn’t usually bother her.