#jojo monster au

[ambyandony]

Bruno Buccellati - Monster AU Profile

Bruno Buccellati, something much greater than a human, with more power than you could imagine.

Preface about species type:

In this AU, Bruno is an angel—a Catholic-aligned, Biblical angel to be specific—of the highest order, having inspirations and traits from depictions of both Seraphim and Thrones. The intricacies of Religion in the Monster AU are hard to get into, but as a general idea, understand that most major theistic religions (Judaism, Islam, Christianity, Hinduism, Shinto, as well as many native religions and other theology e.g. Greek, Norse, Finnish) all 'coexist' to an extent, in terms of actual mythological legitimacy. I'm not going to get into all of it, just know that Buccellati being a Catholic-aligned angel doesn't mean there aren't also, say, Jewish-aligned angels. It's complicated. Being a thematic combination of a Seraph and Throne, Bruno's true form is largely incomprehensible to the average human, and he has incredible, yet limited, divine power. He's "from" "Heaven", but unlike what one might expect, he's not much limited by a 'divine law'; he has no strict morals that he must adhere to, and perhaps he doesn't necessarily have a directive on Earth. The circumstances for his existence as he is here are a little complicated, but, simply put; in a sense, he's just here to keep an eye... or several... on things.

Details related to Angelicism:

Forgive me but— he's basically the Aziraphale to Abbacchio's Crowley.

Trying to 'save' or 'redeem' him. He knows there's still good left in him. The, uh, getting him to join the mafia thing is... questionable, but we're not gonna get into all that.

Both Buccellati and Abbacchio recognised what each other was the moment they set eyes on each other. Their energies and auras were clear and visible to each other. Abbacchio naturally turned to retreat initially, but Buccellati recognised the good he saw remaining in Abbacchio and instead of letting him leave, offered redemption. And maybe some part of Abbacchio knew there was good left in him, because he accepted.

He uses his human form most of the time as it doesn't make much sense for him to use his true form when most can't properly comprehend it and it would really just freak people out.

He also has a '''true voice''' to go with the true form. It can't really be effectively described as it's, like his true form, fairly hard to comprehend, but if words had to be put to give a general idea; imagine a voice that is actually a collection of several different simultaneous voices, heavily distorted, completely understandable communicatively despite being so hard to process.

When enraged or when he generally just loses his cool, sometimes the true form will slip through, which often occurs with both visual and vocal distortion, but may also only appear as vocal distortion.

The true voice and form are both pretty terrifying no matter who's experiencing it, especially as he's a high-order angel, thus incredibly powerful.

Sometimes uses a bit of the True Voice intentionally to intimidate people. Most people around who have caught snippets of it generally end up writing it off as "that's just Bruno being Bruno", which, to be fair, it is,

He has an... Aura. I'm not talking about the Stand Aura; he at times appears to have a sort of golden glow around him, particularly around or behind his head. You can actually see it, at least, and the longer you look, the clearer it gets, it's just hard to pinpoint what exactly you're looking at.

If you catch sight of him just out of the corner of your eye, his true form will be perceived instead. But because it's hard to comprehend, it essentially means he can't really be seen at the edge of someone's peripheral (unless the person in question happens to have some kind of special eyesight) and it ends up looking a bit like catching a movement or shadow out of the corner of your eye.

He's an angel, yes, a divine being, not a human. However... he still had his parents. How does that work? Well, sometimes circumstances like this can occur. Sometimes, a baby may fall deathly ill. The parents, helpless to improve the situation by their own abilities, turn to praying for a miracle. The baby isn't given much time left to live, then suddenly, miraculously, recovers, as if they had never been ill in the first place. The child's soul may have been substituted with an angel as the original soul had to move on. The child will be raised as a human, and will watch over their human parents once they have the cognisance to recognise their own true nature; somewhat reminiscent of a less-sinister changeling. This may be the case with Bruno.

Perhaps one of the many reasons he is so opposed to drugs in the way that he is; he was sent to trade places with a human and to protect the human that would raise him, but his human father's death was ultimately caused by drug dealers, and Bruno was thereby unable to protect him in that situation, interfering with his purpose for being on Earth.

Again, yes, he's an angel. But this doesn't mean he must be perfectly virtuous and nonviolent. He unsurprisingly frequently uses violence as a means to an end. While violence isn't typically his first answer to most problems, he will never hesitate when he feels that it IS the answer.

Details about Buccellati:

Generous and welcoming to those in need. Very nurturing and protective by personality. You Do Not Mess With His Men.

Particularly protective of his human men. Humans are so... fragile. Plus, Fugo joined him first, that's his firstborn-

Loves to play up the whole 'angel' thing when he gets the chance. Likes to use the sort of "Old English" equivalent of Italian (so, Latin, I suppose). 'Be not afraid, child...' ...Fugo gets on his case for grammatical errors frequently.

Has an instinct to know when his children men have broken something (generally an object). This generally allows him to show up near-immediately after something's been broken to lecture whoever broke it about being more careful. In some extreme circumstances, it can be used to call on him for backup—preferably, just try not to have the thing you're breaking be your bones.

Being a literal divine being doesn't save him from being a Suburban Parent stereotype. Stupidest dad jokes you've ever heard that are so unfunny that they're ironically funny, and the irony eventually gets lost and they're just ... funny. Live laugh love! Man I Love Fishing! Turn that frown upside down—

It's really hard to sneak things by him. Even when he turns his back, he seems to know if you're doing something you shouldn't be. He jokes that he has eyes in the back of his head... but is he really joking?

Very kind when he can afford to be. Civilians love him! He always finds it so funny when people are like "Thank God you're here!!" or "You're a godsend/blessing!" because he's like... 😏 that's right

Hates drugs! Winners don't do drugs! This hasn't changed.

Oh dear! It appears that this daughter, which is not mine, is a demon! I can fix one of those problems by becoming her new father.

Yes there's Bruabba but it's really more queerplatonic than anything as Buccellati doesn't feel a full grasp of romantic 'love' and Abbacchio isn't ready for romantic love after suffering the kinds of loss he's suffered, so their relationship is blatantly not-platonic but doesn't reach fully into 'romantic'.

He's trying so so hard to control these kids but every day it's just another thing where Fugo's having a mental breakdown and Narancia's eating the asbestos in the wall insulation and Mista is getting way too close to Abbacchio with that silver cross necklaceWHO LEFT THE OVEN ON

[kots-kots]

HOLY FUCK IT TOOK SO LONG CUZ I WAS GETTING ABSOLUTELY DESTROYED BY SCHOOL BUT MONSTER HIGH AU PART 2!!!!!

thank u to veni for the franken dire idea cuz 🤑🤑🤑 direstraits

dire probably is like. the physical deaducation teacher. straizo is probably something buttass like AP lit or some English class.. William probably home ick or aquaculture

straizo is like the zestiest teacher who claims he’s straight but he’s!!! actually a fruit

straizo was a normie/human who was a mad scientist and then like. dire was also a normie but mf died so he went like “THAAAAT’S IT!” and dedicated his life to resurrect him

he got a white streak from overworking and that gave him the extreme phobia of growing old so he became a vampire >_<

baron zeppeli knows spw has a crush on Jonathan so he’s like “hmmm why don’t u guys watch out for each other ahahah…” cuz Jonathan be catching strays left n right!!! and he’s like. go teach him the street life basics

nijimura brothers are gargoyles cuz idk stone butches

rohan is a spider based off of Anansi (the god of storytelling iirc) plus it references the spider he licked in his episode 😭 he spins and weaves intricate stories while catching prey for the juiciest deets!

josuke is a werewolf sorcerer who specializes in healing spells 😛 I was thinking hamon users also use sorcery or something magical of the sort

also if u have any ideas or suggestions on what species other characters may be feel free to share them 🤑🤑comments or inbox idm

[vamp1re-b1tes]

mh au sage

[thatlightbluefox]

Monkey business

[corviidwrld]

hello hello here’s my entry for @scary-monsters ‘s DTIYS!!!! HAPPY 5K KAT!!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 and MERRY CHRISTMAS N HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!!! I have more yammering under the cut :))

• my modern diego is such an alt guy - he loves his goth rock, he loves industrial metal, and he can be a little pretentious about music sometimes 😭 he’s wearing grave diggers, one of my favorite pair of demonias I own. I totally think he’d wear them all the time JRSGHBKF

• he’s listening to one of his favorite albums, Burning From the Inside by Bauhaus!! I also have in my AU, which is a modern/band AU, that his band takes quite a bit of influence from them! he loves Peter…….

• he’s playing RE4 and struggling while waiting for HP to finish getting ready so they can go out (HP is also very much goth but I WILL be posting abt them later mwah) This man is not. A gamer. by ANY means. But HP asked him to try. And he’s too confident.

• In my AU, they go out almost every weekend to go dancing at the goth club or just to go hang out at the dingy dive bar in downtown hehe

• johnny is texting him, asking where he n HP are!! Diego’s lock screen is of HP holding their cat Cream <3 Cream is basically his daughter. He loves that cat so much.

• how the albums on the wall are arranged is also specific! the top two are one of diego n HP’s favorite albums (HPs - Nightfall by Candlemass, Diego’s - Filth Pig by Ministry), and then the bottom three are three albums they both love very much n like to play all the time <3

[missallanious]

YUKAKO AU SKETCHES

[bayfuzzball7050]

Frankenstein's Monster Okuyasu 🗣🔥

FRANKENOKU COMING RIGHT UP! FEAT. CRAZY SCIENTISTS JOSUKE ‼️‼️

Higashikata’s monster?

I know this isn’t how the story goes, but what I’d Okuyasu died and Josuke kinda went crazy about it and has fixed him a thousand times when he starts getting putrid and has been trying to find a a way to revive him for years until he noticed that what he needed wasn’t a stand but science

[tskmartinsen666]

jojotrix

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

Do you know the Story of the Spider and the Fly? (It’s so perfect and creepy, I read it when I was a kid)

Yandere Drider Dio tries to trick and woo Darling into entering his Parlor (Darling is a Butterfly Hybrid or a Human)

Darling doesn’t fall for any of Dio’s tricks or seductions as she knows he’ll only eat her

However Dio ends up becoming wooed by Darling instead and has a different kind of hunger now

Dio finally has Darling in his clutches as he wraps her in his webs, only he intends to keep her in his home as his mate not his dinner like all his countless past victims

Dio has breeding on his brain

Dio would be a Golden Silk Orb-Weaver (Even his webbing would be gold colored!) and his webbing in incredibly strong

Ooh I like it, I think darling would be a blue morpho butterfly. Pretty blue and black wings that dio thought would make pretty decorations in his den after he devours her. I had to write a short little story for this.

Warning: dismemberment

"Will you come inside my palor dear? for I have many treasures inside" the golden drider spoke in such a sultry tone.

"No I shall not, for I hear rumors that none come out alive" you replied with a smile, hovering just out of the driders reach. For you knew no fancy name would ever fool you, it was his den and he was surely trying make you his next meal.

That wasn't a response he'd heard before. Most either came in or rushed away. Yet you dangled yourself just out of his grasp. He wanted to devour you and pluck of your pretty blue wings to decorate his den like he had with other parts of his victims.

You were taunting him, and he was up for the challenge.

"The rumors are false dear and you must be tired flighing all day, I offer my bed for you to rest" he cooed.

"Oh but I have heard rumor that those who slept in your bed were never to wake again" you continued smugly, you knew he would devour you but you remained out of reach.

"I thank you for offering me your hospitality sir but I must return home now" you told him before flying away. Though it would not be the last time you passed the driders den.

🦋🦋🦋

Dio noticing you were foraging for food and called out to you.

"Dear butterfly I have plenty of food inside, won't you come in and have a bite" he lulled.

"Oh I am quite alright sir, there are rumors of what is inside your pantry and do not wish to see" you replied, still just out of his reach. You were far too proud. You liked the attention and from your hight he was no predator to you.

"Well I guess I shall search else where, good bye sir" you said before leaving him again. You enjoyed playing this game just as much as he did and he had to find out how to best you.

🦋🦋🦋

"Oh how gorgeous your wings are" the other butterflies told you as they showered you in praises and shiny gifts. As you deserved for your precious wings. Staring into your reflection in the water, it was never good enough. Nothing could reflect how beautiful your wings were.

"Oh if only I could see clearly how beautiful they really are" you thought out loud, enough so that Dio heard from where he hid. Oh he had the perfect thing for you, a human mirror he'd taken for himself.

But seeing how much you were revered and how you soaked it up, perhaps weren't too different to him. You played a cute dainty role but in reality you were just as cunning as he was. However he knew now how to lure you in now.

🦋🦋🦋

"Sweet butterfly, you are a wise thing and the blue of your wings puts the sky itself to shame" he flattered you as you flew by. You stopped.

"Is that so sir? I'm very flattered" you said to the drider.

"If only you could look upon your own beauty" he continued.

"I wish I could" you told him ready to make your leave.

"I have something, a stone so smooth and shiny that it perfectly reflects. It's like staring directly at yourself" he told and you stopped again.

You shook your head. No you couldn't, it's a trap and you knew it but it tempted you. Such a thing existed, oh you had to see but you wouldn't.

"You should see for yourself that you are a brilliant gem dear butterfly" he called and you landed on your feet and approached.

He stood aside and let you enter his den and you saw it, you saw yourself so clearly. You walked closer and closer to it before you were snared in a trap.

"You, you tricked me!" You snarled at the drider.

"Oh I did not trick you, all I told you were truths dear" he chuckled as he approached you from behind.

"Now I'll be taking these, for they have kept you away from me for far too long" he said.

"What are you-!" You were cut of by a horrible pain as he tugged at one of your wings.

"No! Stop!" You wailed as you struggled in his web.

"Though they are pretty, they will only be an inconvenience" he said before tearing the first one out.

You were a wailing mess, quite literally being torn away by the thing you cared most about.

"Why not eat me first?! Why must you torture me like this?!" You screamed.

"Oh I do not intend to eat you dear butterfly, I shall take you into my web as my bride" he mused as he made work on the other wing.

Soon enough the second wing was torn and you were left a sobbing mess while he hung them in the entrance way like the pretty decorations they were meant to be.

He then returned to you, spinning his fine silk around you. Oh how arrogant you were mere minutes ago, now a sobbing mess. He took such delight in it as he dragged you deeper into his den.

[drsugarsweet]

Holding On To Smoke

Haunted Armor!Polnareff x Reader

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Synopsis: Through a stroke of good fortune, you have been placed in charge of an antique home. The former owners only asked that you kept the relics inside, and you agreed. If only they had mentioned that some of the relics aren't as lifeless as they initially seemed...

TW: Implied character death (not reader’s) Note: reader is GN, no pronouns aside from 'you' are used.

Masterlist ☆。*。☆。

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A/N: Polnareff is SUCH a sad grieving beast, this only felt appropriate for him.

The home that you've come to enjoy for so many months is old, much older than you. It's full of items you're scared to touch for fear of shattering their delicate nature, of spiderwebs that look too beautiful to break and rooms that you haven't even stepped foot into. There simply isn't enough time or motivation for you to cover all of that ground, and yet…

And yet you notice small oddities that you can't fully explain away. There's odd clanking in the halls that sounds far too consistent to be the pipes. After all, they only rattle when you draw water from them. The rooms you frequent are miraculously free of dust even though you haven't had the time to drag out the duster and rags yourself. It’s hard to chalk up the cold and pointed breezes as a simple draft, and you swear you’ve seen something glowing out of the corner of your eye more than once - only to disappear when you actually look at it.

Oh, and you can’t ignore the massive elephant in the room.

More specifically, the massive suit of armor.

Upon first entering the house, it looked like an odd decoration but hardly one you could complain about. Old houses have weird decorations, right? It made you feel like you were walking into a murder mystery set but your attention was so set on moving in that you didn’t think much of it. It looked regal and mysterious enough to make you ponder over its relevance though. The original owners never mentioned it, did they? There’s no plaque to reveal who may have donned it, who it may have shielded or when. You shrug and decide you’ll research it at a later date.

That later date keeps getting pushed further and further back however. The mysterious old house has its fair share of secrets to keep you distracted - a library packed with dusty old books, a kitchen full of secret panels, not to mention the many, many nooks and crannies you weren’t told of. The only times you ponder about the armor again is when you pass its dulled surfaces in the hallway. It isn’t until you finally decide that a heavy cleaning of the home is in order lest your lungs fill with dust bunnies that the armor finally has your full attention.

How does one clean a suit of armor? You’re not sure. I’s not like it’s been in any books that you’ve read before. A wet rag should at least help with removing the dirt and dust, and you assume that the kind of polish used on metal surfaces in your kitchen could work. It’s a large suit and you know you’ll have your work cut out for you, but something draws you in despite the eeriness of the relic. It feels strange. It feels… Melancholic , somehow. Maybe you’re too wrapped up in the idea that this once belonged to someone, that someone could have lived, breathed, died in those iron plates. Maybe it’s the way the chestplate and helmet have engravings of broken hearts on them that tug at your own heartstrings. Whatever the reason, you feel like it’s your obligation to give this old thing one last hurrah in the way of cleaning it up.

As the rag glides across the faded surface and carries away the countless layers of grime, you start to see the former glory restored. The armor truly does look uncared for, though you aren’t surprised given the state of the house. It only spurs you on as more of that gleaming silver comes to light. There’s so many small details to pay heed to; engravings of hearts and chariots must be carefully detailed, and the sections of overlapping plates require a special amount of focus. At the very least there isn’t any corruption or rusting. It takes hours to clean with the occasional break for refreshments in-between, but pulling away from the now clear (albeit dull) suit sends a wave of relief through you. The low evening sunlight streaking through the stained glass windows of the foyer reflects in a beautiful kaleidoscope on the iron. For just a breath, a brief moment… You could almost swear that the suit of armor is glowing.

The moment passes as the clouds of kicked up dust finally force you to sneeze, and when you look at the armor again the glow is gone. It must have been a trick of the light. With that, you nod and set aside the polish to be done the next day. Perhaps the sheer amount of time or the curiosity that you’ve poured into the armor play a role in why you suddenly feel a sense of longing and connection towards the suit, almost as though you’re leaving an old friend. It’s odd, but you shrug the thoughts away and retire to your room for the evening. The next day will surely be brighter.

Downstairs, the darkness of the dusk is broken by a soft glow.

Weeks pass after your restoration of the armor. The oddities start as subtle movements at first. A hand shifts slightly or the helmet seems to perk in the direction of your favorite armchair; the dust settled around the suit’s base is disturbed, or is it just your imagination? As the house becomes cleaner in more miniscule ways, even that starts to make you wonder if it’s all in your head. You only start to think something is up when you come home from work to find the armor set at the foot of the stairs to the second floor, its gauntlets set against the scabbard of its rapier. It’s not like the suit froze when you entered - you’re sure you would’ve heard the clanking, and it’s just a suit, right? If you weren’t constantly swamped with work you’d almost be afraid of the potential haunting. You know it isn’t some mischievous intruder breaking in just to mess with you; the doors and windows are always the same as they were, and it’s not like anything is missing. There aren’t handbooks on how to deal with haunted houses like this and so you stand in the house’s entranceway, eyes glued to the relic posed mere feet away.

It feels like an eternity that you wait with bated breath for something to happen. When it does, there is no loud scream or rush of metal and pain; no ghastly beasts lunge for your throat, and as you stand gaping like a fish out of water, you realize that the movement of the armor is almost unnoticeable at first glance.

The visor of the helmet minutely tilts towards you and you know for a fact that gauntleted fingers twitch at the scabbard’s handle. The gig is up. You take one step back, and the armor jerks to face you further. Another step, and the helmet is facing you fully, its hand never leaving the hilt of the razor sharp rapier. The door is closed and solid against your back and you’re certain that this is where you will die.

The clanging of metal grows closer and closer with each step of the suit of armor. Even behind your eyelids - when did they close? - you can’t miss the icy blue glow painting the backs of your eyelids in dim light. Your eyes peel open just enough to witness the armor come to a still before you in its pale glowing glory. The finger guards on the scabbard have lifted away and now the suit stands before you motionless yet again, its gauntlets stiffly held at its side. The icy terror that initially held you in its grasp melts into mute confusion and unease. Why isn’t it attacking you? What could you have done to inspire this thing’s movement? Or…

Has it always been on the move?

Your racing thoughts are interrupted by another sudden jump from the suit of armor, but this one catches you even more off-guard. In one quick and jerky movement, the suit tumbles down onto one iron poleyn, its other knee bent as it bows its helmet before you. You have no idea what to say, what to do as the massive suit freezes yet again. There’s a moving set of armor in front of you. Holy shit , there’s haunted armor in your house.

For a minute, the two of you stay there in frozen time. The armor doesn’t move but it glows and pulsates with faint blue light. You don’t move aside from the slowing rise and fall of your chest. There’s a tension so palpable in the air that it surely could be cut through like butter with a hot knife, but you have no idea what to do or say to your unexpected housemate.

The first noise to break the room isn’t from you. It starts out so quietly that the rush of blood in your ears drowns it out. Slowly and drenched in uncertainty, a noise no louder than a whisper seems to fill the room. There’s a pause, and then the noise again, and again, growing louder with each confused blink it draws from you. The moment that it grows loud enough to register properly to your ears is the moment that you realize that it’s a voice echoing around you. The voice is hoarse and strangely hollow, but it sounds almost like a man. It echoes again from the suit of armor and you realize that it is speaking to you .

“Please… Give me an order.”

The stunned silence plaguing your voice is hard to break. Break it you do, but only because the tide of questions thrashing against your skull threatens to consume you.

“Who are you?”

Perhaps the right question would be who it - he - was. You begin to regret not looking up the source of the armor sooner. The voice goes silent and the glow swirls in a mesmerizing miasma of dull silver and ice. Whatever haunts this armor seems to form the strongest beneath its chestplate and helmet, and for the briefest of moments you wonder what you would see beneath the visor. As though it can sense your innate curiosity amidst the waves of confusion and fear, the being raises its helmet a fraction as though it were looking at you. The feeling of eyes becomes strong and yet oh so familiar.

“I am Jean Pierre Polnareff. You have laid claim to this land. I pledge my loyalty to you, to protect you and honor your every word.” The helmet drops again and the regal being donned in iron waits ever so patiently for your words. With its hand on its scabbard and that plasmic echo fading in and out like a heartbeat, it truly bears the visage of a noble warrior. 

Okay, what the hell are you supposed to do about this? 

There’s a fucking ghost knight in your house.

After a very rational and intense moment of thinking on the matter, you do the only thing that sounds right when confronted with such a ghostly specter. It doesn’t matter that it hasn’t made a move to harm you. You reach behind you, feeling around until you can grab the doorknob to the front entrance. You throw open the heavy door before hauling ass into the chilly night air, refusing to look back once lest the point of a rapier be the last thing you see.

You’ll find a hotel or stay with a friend for now. There’s no way in hell that you’re going back to your house, no way that you’re reenacting some stupid horror movie scene.

You go back to the house two days later.

Maybe it’s the twinge of pain in your shoulder and neck from sleeping on an uncomfortable futon. Maybe it’s the reminiscing that you’ve had time to do on the whole matter. You’ve never felt unsafe in the house; melancholy, sure, pensive if you stood in the right spot. You never felt afraid though, so why is the memory of the one that called himself Polnareff lingering in your mind?

The old home looms over you as the gray skies threaten to douse you in rain. Despite the being that you know lurks inside, the building itself doesn’t feel ominous. It feels like a rundown old manor and you can’t come up with a good reason to avoid going in any longer. The stone steps are slick beneath your shoes and with a mighty groan, the door swings forward into the foyer.

You aren’t really sure what you expected. Images of torn tapestries and broken mirrors came to your mind at first, like a raging beast rampaging in a bout of anger. The light of the day floods the foyer, and you breathe a sigh of relief to see that there is no such damage. As a matter of fact… There is no sign of the suit of armor at all. It isn’t at its base in the middle of the foyer. You know you should be on high alert, but the lack of surprises lulls you ever so slightly.

It feels silly to call out for another person in your own house, so you decide to take your chances and look around instead.

The den is free of the suit. You find yourself oddly disappointed.

The kitchen likewise lacks any spectral beings, and so too does the rest of the first story.

The memory of the first time that you saw the armor moving towards the staircase comes to mind, and your eyes travel up and along the mahogany banister towards the silent second story. If there were anywhere that your unassuming houseguest would be, you have a strong suspicion of its intended destination.

The doors to the library creak open as you peer inside and to your unexpected relief, a flash of iron catches your eyes. You push further in to be greeted by the broad, shining form of the suit of armor. Its helmet has tilted slightly back as though to acknowledge you but it has not moved. That glow remains but it is more dull than last time, the colors barely touching the dusty books and desk it stands in front of. That acknowledgment is all that you need and you take a deep breath of the stale air.

“I’m… Sorry. Sorry for how I acted last time. I wasn’t expecting you and I was scared, so I ran.” It’s an apology you never felt that you would make, but it feels wrong to leave things as they were. This thing has likely been here longer than you have been alive; the aura of sadness and mournful longing around it tinges your heart in a way you never expected.

The armor turns to look at you further with a set of clangs and you catch a glimpse of what its broad form was hiding. You haven’t had time to get a good look at the library beneath all of the blankets of dust, but the crest hanging on the wall is one you don’t recognize. The symbols of hearts and horse-drawn chariots bear a striking resemblance to the engravings on the knight’s armor. You startle as you realize that the very same insignia was on the paperwork that you signed to properly take ownership of this house.

The suit turns fully to face you and you swallow down your nerves. This could either go really well or really poorly based on how good you are at offending ghosts.

Its visor tilts to one side, then the other. It takes a step forward, and this time you stay where you are willingly rather than freezing in fear. Another step is taken. Another. By the time that your distorted face is reflected in the large breastplate of the armor, you realize just how cold the room has gotten around you. That visor leans down to look at you and you look up into it as icy tendrils of mist curl from beneath the edges. When the gauntlets reach up and towards you, it’s a miracle that you don’t feel fear. All that you feel is the strong wave of melancholy that you first felt upon stepping into this house, and you wonder just what this soul has suffered to exude such strong feelings of sadness.

The gauntlets do not reach for you, though they do briefly cradle your own hands in chilled metal before continuing upwards. The guarded fingers come to rest at the edges of the visor. Tendrils of ghostly energy curl at the iron knuckles, and it freezes like that. It’s as though it’s waiting for your order. With a flashback to the last meeting, you blink away crystals of iced tears that you didn’t even realize had appeared and answer its unspoken question.

“Show me your face. I want to see the knight of this house.”

You aren’t sure what to expect. There are no rules that could have prepared you, no pictures or carvings or films. The glide of the visor up and into the iron helmet is silent as it reflects the light. Whoever this man was, he is nothing like you expect, and that’s a pity because he is refined and elegant and somber in the way that only a lost soul can be.

Your hand shakes as you reach towards the visor. Crystals of ice gather on your fingertips as your eyes roam over the misty face of the man that once was. Sad eyes like faded seaglass stand out amidst shadows of sharp cheekbones and shroud-like silver hair that dances like spider silk in the wind. He speaks of tragedy and heartbreak without saying a word, and the brush of your fingers on the frigid iron of his helmet finally breaks what fear remains in your heart. 

“You’ll protect me?” The words are barely a whisper, but you don’t have it in you to speak any louder.

The ghost - Polnareff - nods. Somber as he may be, you swear that the corner of his lips turns up for just a moment. That air of melancholy lifts ever so slightly from your heart, the glow of the being before you so much more vivid than before.

“I swear to you, as is my purpose. You’ll never be alone.”

[enthusedbambi-jjba-au]

Monster AU - Risotto Nero research notes

You weirdos really wanted me to try and study this guy. It’s… been interesting! Here’s what I have:

[

[A paper of notes about Risotto Nero. The paper has tape in various places.]

[On the left side:]

Risotto Nero

he/him (I think)

At least 6'5" by my estimate (I'm VERY short so hard to tell)

Leader of "La Squadra" (bunch of assassins. Every time I've tried to infiltrate, catboy catches (:3) on to me.) Human jaw strength is about 7.5 times a cat's. hospital.

Species : Sanguisuge ('vampire') - species unknown

has fangs (yes)

drinks blood (yes)

Non-undead (bleeds normal blood, so he must have been born like this).

Not P.C.S (Pop Culture Standard)—no weakness to garlic, can be in direct sunlight (though he seems to prefer not to be) and no weakness to religious affects despite being Catholic aligned—can tell he's Italian-born.

I know he drinks blood because I’ve seen him do it. seems to have keen senses. I’m sure this isn’t surprising but I can’t get close enough to tell if he’s warm- or cold-bodied. he could be a half-vampire. They’re usually more likely to be warm-bodied despite still having poor circulation. They often don’t have to drink blood, but the craving is stronger, especially if they don’t give in often. They also tend to drink more at one time than full vampires since they tend not to satiate themselves as regularly… he drinks a lot of blood when he does drink it.

[There's an illustration depicting one of Risotto's eyes. The 'whites' are black, and the irises are bright red, and the pupils—also black—appear slit, like a cat's.]

Eyes are black sclerae and pupils with very bright red irises—glowing, I think.

Stand: "Metallica"

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! A SANGUISUGE WITH A BLOOD-BASED STAND ABILITY??! ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING!? HOW DO I KNOW WHAT'S STAND AND WHAT'S SPECIES RELATED!?!?

Update: its not blood based so much as its iron based but he uses blood as a source of iron which still makes things complicated for me to figure out. range seems to be a 5-10m radiu [The writing trails off at the end. There's a lot of blood on the corner of the page.]

[On the right side:]

Maybe in his 20s? Short of directly asking, I don't think there's a way I can pinpoint for sure.*

[There's an unfinished rushed illustration of Risotto Nero.]

My memory isn't the best and he uses invisibility a lot so I can rarely see him long enough to draw him from observation...

Will he show up in a photo? I don't think cameras use silver anymore!!

[There’s a partially-ripped photo of Risotto Nero, in dark lighting, presumably in the process of using his Stand, taped to the page. There's blood splattered over the photo. Frantic writing at the bottom of the photo reads "I PICKEDA A BAD SPOT TO STAND IN"]

he does show up in photos!! thank god for camera zoom haha...

*Vampires are known for looking fairly young, due to abnormal physical aging tendencies. Turned vampires usually stop aging once Turned, since they’re undead. Born sanguisuges like this guy can vary—some hit a certain point where they just stop “getting older”, and some age very slowly once they hit puberty. I heard someone say that the slow aging owes to vampires’ typical poor circulation—what?? Do you know what aging is? Yes, vampires tend to have poor circulation if they have any circulation at all, but the poor circulation contributes mostly to cold skin (and infertility, I think) like it does in humans. And for the record, they don’t drink blood to compensate for a lack of blood in their own bodies because, in case you’ve forgotten, that’s not how bodies work. Blood consumption does not affect the consumer’s own blood in any significantly direct way. ]

Guess it must be lucky to be a sanguisuge whose job is offing people… he’s hard to get close to because I usually catch him when he’s uh. You know. Doing his job.

He still hasn’t realised I’ve been tailing him though! I… I think. Like with his age, short of asking him directly, I can’t really be sure, and as I’m sure is obvious, that’s not really a good idea.

if anyone has any questions or insight… go ahead?

I could use any info.

~Bambi

[ambyandony]

What am I s’posed to do without you…

[kots-kots]

okay guys i finally locked in and drew the monster high au LOL

BIG THANKS TO SCRIBBLE FOR HELPING ME WITH THE SPECIES 😼

ummm basically. the jojos are werewolves and the dio is vampire. so classic vampire vs werewolf shit LOL

speedwagon is like a wereraccoon and erina is probably like a dryad!!!

the zeppelis are fish people bcuz hamon/ripple… ripple like water.. ahahaha yeah that’s so funny LOL Caesar was rlly inspired off of lagoona’s design cuz he’s strong like a sea monster but pretty like a nymph

suzi is an air nymph or an aurae so they’re pretty nature spirit gang. ofc I love suzi and caesar being big gossippers in au

DIO I FEEL LIKE is a big regina george type person with vanilla as his bodyguard, terence is kinda like Gretchen in the sense he knows HELLA secrets and rumors about everybody. TERENCE JS A SPHINX (thx scribble >_<) and vanilla ice is maybe a demon or a reaper??? something absolutely horrifying

They’re da dangerous three/other than the pillar men trio or the occasional ‘team food chain’ (aka diavolo-dio-kars clique)

MAYBE THE VILLAINS HAVE THEIR OCCASIONAL TEAMUPS OR BEEF WITH EACH OTHER. they either hate each other or are chill it depends on the day

AND GORGON KAKYOIN

I was thinking he can just turn people into stone or he can use his scales like projectiles like. emerald splash ig…

BUT UM yeah lots of ideas still in mind just what i have drawn so far hehe 😼

[atomicinsantiy]

MONSTER INFECTION AU JBBA!! PT 1

Josuke Higashikata

Gender: Make

Age: 16 yrs

Morph: Goat-Rex

Transformation: SUCCESS

Notes: 30 FT high, 46 FT long, weights 12 T. Covered in armor that is as tough as diamonds. Has conjoined horns. Saliva acts as a anti venom and antibiotic. Has a star shaped scar on shoulder, meaning he's protected by the Speedwagon Foundation. Has a large scar on his tail that he got from fighting Okuyasu for the first time.

Extra stuff:

- Josuke chilling with some goats

[dark-side-blog3]

Hear me out. Hear me out. Harpy Narancia but he is a magpie. Not a smart one I can just see him being very vocal.

Just constantly hopping around and cawing at his darling, I don't think he would probs have the brain for learning any human language but I can see him always trying to talk to his darling.

He probably would bring them shiny things like watches still attached to some poor persons arm that walked too close to his nest. Thinking hes being romantic or something showing his mate a new shiny thing for them and there dinner for the night.

Speaking of the nest I can imagine that it is a mess. All his trinkets just thrown around on the floor. Bones and rotten flesh just kind of left around with no really clear sleeping space just scraps of fabrics and his own feathers thrown in corners kind of.

At least he's darling will a thing to do while being there, trying to make that hell hole of a nest some what live able.

I gotchu blue. Bitches love blue.

The filth of Narancia's nest really seems like something advantageous-- if you don't wanna touch rotting flesh or the maggots infesting the corpses of hikers and rescue teams that came for you, you could always cuddle him! He won't let you touch the gross stuff if you cling to him like he clings to you :)

[foodlesoodlesdoodles]

DOODLEDUMP