Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Dead Man's Letters

[FloraRead]

[X] Shout the first thing that comes to mind (This must be an attack!)

THIS IS THE WORK OF AN ENEMY STAND!

​

Is what you would have said if your mouth was unfused. What comes out is instead closer to…

"Mff mph hmm mmrk mf nmm mnmm mfnm!"

Your face feels like it's boiling. In through the nose, out through the nose. You tried breathing through your fused-shut mouth once. It didn't feel good. What's holding your lips shut feels just like skin. As if your lips had never split during gestation.

"What?" She pauses, holding her hand. Despite the fact her finger is missing, she doesn't seem to feel any pain other than the headache she mentioned earlier. "Shit dude, you're definitely worse off! Your face is all red—"

[X] Hit her. This is her fault. (Somehow)

You sock her in the face as soon as she tries approaching. Unlike what you expected from a ghost, it connects, causing her to stumble-float backwards.

"OW!" She shoots you a glare while rubbing her nose and left cheek. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"Mmmg mfff!!" Translation: 'Fuck off.' Your mouth is fused shut. Speech is out of the question for mouthless people. People like you, currently.

Her arms drop to the side as she slacks slightly, "Right. I forgot you can't speak."

You don't honestly care. Your entire body feels like it's burning. Solution! You need a solution to—

"Right– fuck! Fuck what do I do!? I didn't actually mean that whole thing about drowning you—!"

[] Tear open lips.
[X] Cut open lips (With what? Write-in)
-Broken bathroom tiles.
[] Cry (and die).
[] Write-in.

You stumble forth, back into the bathroom and falling onto your knees as soon as you're on safe carpet again. Here goes nothing–!

Tile? Grabbed. Lips, found. Mirror? Yup. Time to—

"AUGH—"

That wasn't your scream, though you wish it was yours. It was hers. You grit your teeth, keep cutting and—

"OW! MY ARM IS BLEEDING! OW! OW OW!"

—ignoring her and… done! Haha.. Oh. Oh sweet sweet air. If you could fall onto the floor of the bathroom without cutting up your fingers any worse than you already did doing that, you would. But oh, sweet sweet air. Running into your lungs in and out. Through your mouth, which stings, but the stinging is far lesser than all the other injuries you already have, so it sort of melts into the background despite its freshness. Your fingers probably hurt worse.

They definitely look worse.

Is this the second time you almost die of oxygen deprivation after waking up neck deep in water? It probably is. You stumble out of the bathroom, tile on your good hand, with a vengeance in mind…

And her arm is bleeding. Fingertip to elbow. One long, shallow gash. Most of her finger is back. Huh. Vengeance achieved?

That's enough to give you both pause. That and the very real blood dripping down the suspected-guilty ghost's arm, staining the carpet. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I dunno. You tell me!" You accuse.

She bends over, squinting accusingly. "Oh, really now?"

"Yes! This is your fault!"

"How?"

"Somehow!"

"Yeah, right, somehow. My arm is fucking bleeding?"

"Okay yeah just fuse it shut like you did my mouth."

Where did that thought come from?

"Fuse. It. Shut?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, yeah, no worries friendo, let me just—" She runs her finger up the gash. "Okay wait no what the fuck."

Part of her fingers is gone. Just like the gash. It too is gone.

"Haha… wow. That's like. A superpower."

"It's magic! Okay, wait, can I replace my more useless insides with—" She reaches down to her abdomen, and from it, new fingers are born to replace the missing ones. "I can! Haha. Wow. That's so cool!"

"Yeah! You're a wizard!"

"A wi–" She sneezes, and something hits against the bed frame again, and she reels back, rubbing her forehead despite being nowhere near the sound. "Ow!!!"

"Deserved!"

"Did not. Your lips are bleeding. Can I try… like, fixing your lips? Like properly now."

"Oh. And my other injuries too. Yeah."

"Okay, sure. Let me just…" Most of the pain fades away as the gold flakes peel away into your lips and fold back into her hand, which then completely fade away as she traces over where they're still bleeding. Two lines are present within the fingers as evidence to her healing.

Is it permanent? You don't know, but you'll take advantage of this as much as you can.

"Hey! Pretty good! Now do the same down here?"

"I am not mending your buttcrack."

You shake your head profusely. That is not where you were pointing. You turn around to point at the offensive gash. "No no, look I have a big gash he–"

She's not looking. "Ah. Okay uh. Um. I'll look… away…"

"C'mon, we're practically naked already."

"Ugh. Fine. Let me…" There's a grimace where before stood pure befuddlement. "Ew. Nasty… let me see if I can…"

Gold dust flows, the wound is mended, and there's less of her left.

The more she mends, the less of her there is. She makes up for it by, well, using this ability on herself. Chest, abdomen… even legs and toes. They don't matter as much as functional fingers when one can float about, it seems.

Ear, fingernails, fingers, forearms. All are fixed

Based on this evidence, you can probably point out several things about her and whatever ability this is (which you are calling ｢Gold Dust Woman｣, this is non-negotiable).

You go over the evidence and makes notes out of everything to be kept in the recesses of your mind:

• The ability can "fill in" spaces with parts of Christine.
• It is mostly intangible, but you were able to touch it (somehow).
• If a part that is filled is damaged in any way the damage goes back to her.
  • Even if she pulls back the material, the damage received remains.
• She can pull back the filling at any time that she desires, reverting the changes (if all changes are reverted is not definitive. Your lips feel weird?)
• Something doesn't need to have been connected to another thing to be "filled", it just needs to be the same object (or have been? Unsure. Maybe experiment in a bit?)

Crinkling distracts you from your thoughts. Like old newspaper. Rainbow-blue whips away from the left side of her face. Almost like fire. And in the place where fumes should be, faint, translucent windows into something. Far too small and dim to really be seen.

Pain can't really be conveyed through text, but by the time she's noticed it too, she's screaming. It may look funny, but it may as well be fire.

It's certainly burning like fire.

[X] Shout the first thing that comes to mind (This must be an attack!)
[] Panic.
[] Panic (loudly).
[] Panic (quietly).
[] Panic-Vomit (grossly).
[] Panic-Run (in circles, uselessly).
[] Panic-Apologise (unsuccessfully).
[] Write in.
(Top Four options selected. One was picked for you. Three options remain.)

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………………………​

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Timer for Vote: 2 Days (Aprox.) (For EST, More or less hours applicable if I wake up or don't wake up. I suggest you discuss this one thoroughly!! Go over the evidence, discuss!! Share ideas! Insult each other (jokingly and lovingly). Apologies for the delay. I've been exhausted these past few days.

 

[NonsenseLurker]

I think we chould panic, grab our friend and jump out the nearest window
after all her floating should stoop our fall if we are dangerously high up right?
[X] Panic-Run (Out the window with our friend in hand)

 

[SaberFail]

[X] Panic-Run (in circles, uselessly).

 

[FloraRead]

Extending voting time by two more days because of lack of votes.

 

[always_confused]

[X] Panic.

 

[DracoDracul]

[X] Panic

 

[Ralakesh]

[X] Panic-Run (in circles, uselessly).

 

[FloraRead]

Adhoc vote count started by FloraRead on Oct 26, 2024 at 12:05 AM, finished with 6 posts and 5 votes.

• ---

  2 people have voted

  [X] Panic-Run (in circles, uselessly).

  • SaberFail
  • Ralakesh

  2 people have voted

  [X] Panic.

  • always_confused
  • DracoDracul

  1 people have voted

  [X] Panic-Run (Out the window with our friend in hand)

  • NonsenseLurker

VOLITION [Impossible: Failure] - That isn't good. And I can't help you. I'm sorry.

ENDURANCE - No shit.

1. - Don't look away. You have to save her.
2. - [COMPOSURE: Impossible] Look away, before you have to see her go.

VOLITION [Impossible: Failure] - No. You do not let yourself do that, and memories fail to tell you why.

EMPATHY - Something deep inside means you understand why, even if you lack the words for it.

COMPOSURE [Impossible: Failure] - You can't keep a straight face.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) - Pieces fall and fade, but the blood remains. The fire catches glimpses of images of cars, the sun, drugs within it's rainbow fractal.
VISUAL CALCULUS - The fire is low enough to not be burning anything deeper than surface-layer, for now.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) - Smells like a roast.
ENCYCLOPEDIA - Like veal. It'd be the most apt comparison based on reports of those who have partaken in the act of cannibalism.

PERCEPTION (???) - A whistling makes your soul shiver.

PAIN THRESHOLD - It's unbearable even to hear.

LOGIC - You have less than minutes: *seconds*.
INLAND EMPIRE [Challenging: Success] - It slipped. It was so close, and you failed to catch it. *You* are to blame here.

1. - How do I stop it? I don't want her to burn, please!
2. - I didn't start no fire. Then how could I do anything but panic?
3. - This isn't my fault. Someone must be attacking me.
4. - Controlling what and what doesn't catch fire, is quite simply, beyond my control.

INLAND EMPIRE - Only according to your current logical framework.

LOGIC - I'm working perfectly fine --

INLAND EMPIRE - You're interfacing with the realm where the substance interacts with the flask.

SHIVERS - You're leaking.

1. - How do I stop it? I don't want her to burn, please!
2. - I didn't start no fire. Then how could I do anything but panic?
3. - This isn't my fault. Someone must be attacking me.
4. - Controlling what and what doesn't catch fire, is quite simply, beyond my control.

INLAND EMPIRE - There is a way.

INTERFACING - Checking... checking...

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - What are you even doing!?

EMPATHY - Saving the closest thing she has to a friend.

HAND-EYE COORDINATION - Three. Two. One... *action*.

---

---

Jus' messing around. Expect the real post by tomorrow evening. By the way, has the quest been engaging so far? I know I'm not the best wordsmith but I hope to climb towards that unattainable goal slowly through these.

 

[StarSingerBlue]

It's been really fun.

 

[FloraRead]

[X] Shout the first thing that comes to mind (This must be an attack!)

(AGAIN)

"THIS IS THE WORK OF AN ENEMY STAND!"

​

It does literally nothing to help.

Truth be told, you feel rather foolish.

She's still burning.

[X] Panic-Run (in circles, uselessly).

She's still burning.

[X] Panic.

It may stop in less than a minute.

[X] Panic-Run (in circles, uselessly).

You're not helping.

[X] Panic.

This isn't helping.

[X] Panic-Run (in circles, uselessly).

Were you born this useless?

[X] Panic.

Or did you become such?

[X] Panic-Run (in circles, uselessly).

Perhaps the person with the memories wasn't so useless.

[X] Panic-Run (Out the window with our friend in hand)​

Grab her hand, drag the weight that a ghost lady shouldn't have tethered somewhere in the room, and slam face-first into glass.

OW.

It doesn't break.

Perhaps you are lucky for not breaking it. Or not breaking anything on you. Of your. Whatever. The screaming stopped.

Well, she's still there. Her face is likewise, still there. No longer on fire. She slaps her hand around until it looks like when you first saw her. Perfect, beautiful, golden. Most of the mass was taken from her abdomen, so, expectedly, there's a head-sized hole in there, held together by threads of gold and purple and an exposed spine.

She's staring at something. A body? No, that's wrong.

A living, breathing woman, dragged from under the bed as if she was tethered to something.

She's far better dressed than you in a push-up bra and boyshorts, though just as injured. Gash on the arm, bruises on the forehead. More bruises on the forehead. Burnt cheek. Lacerations across arms, forearms, abdomen, sewn shut hastily. It's a nasty looking cut, anyway.

"Is that me?" Christine asks. Both the mouth you know and the one recently discovered question in tandem.

You don't know what to answer. Was she dragged out when you tried to jump out the window with the Gold Dust Woman? Or… was the Gold Dust Woman even real? You think it would be so. Even if she's a disembodied soul and this white, blonde woman is the real deal. Your mother would be disappointed, you think, if she found out your first friend is a gringa. Her hair is almost what one would describe as "strawberry blond", with braided (though messy) hair, blue eyes, and a numerous amount of freckles on both sides of her face. Nose piercing on the right nostril, lobe earrings on both ears, . No bodily beyond that.

She'd definitely be disappointed.

Words leave your mouth without even being considered as thoughts. "Try moving her arm."

And indeed, the woman moves her arm. Lifted up perpendicular to the floor, before dropping back down.

"Ow." Both mouths huff. "Okay. She is me. I think. What do I even do? Carry her around like dead weight?"

"Can't you go back inside your body?"

"Eugh. The idea strikes me as wrong. I'm more comfortable like this."

That strikes you as odd. "Why?"

"Does it matter if I don't have a body?"

"Obviously." You roll your eyes.

"I mean, yes, but–"

"Didn't you want to eat stuff?"

She squirms. Ha! Got her good. Cata: 2. Christine: 0. You'll keep count. "Ugh, fine…"

SELF NOTE: Current number of "how many times you've triumphed against Christine in talking her off to something" is 0 to 2. In your favour.

With the sound of windchimes appearing once more in relation to the (maybe) ghost, she is gone, and only the almost-naked woman is left after Gold Dust Woman reduces away to gold dust and then, to nothing. The woman groans and pulls herself up to a sitting position besides the broken ceiling tiles, rubbing her eyes and head and sneezing once again.

Hmm… maybe you should have realized she was there all along. That sneeze is awfully familiar. A part of your consciousness did note her presence all this time. Suspected, even.

[] Look under the bed. (Check for monsters?) Click to shrink... []Are there monsters under the bed? How about the closet (this room has no closets)? Click to shrink... "Let me just… stand up." Something hits the bed. The frame shakes slightly. "Ow." That wasn't you. It was her. Click to shrink... "A wi–" She sneezes, and something hits against the bed frame again, and she reels back, rubbing her forehead despite being nowhere near the sound. "Ow!!!" Click to shrink...

Huh.

No time to get hung up on that. Not really.

"Do you think you can heal your cheek and… well, rest of the body?"

"With what? The ghost? That I put away?" She asks incredulously.

To which you deadpan: "Yes."

"I mean, I still feel it there, y'know?" She shrugs. "Maybe it's still there."

"Mhm." You nod along. It's familiar.

"Like a second body."

MUSIC​

Yeah, seems about normal. "I feel that too."

"Weird…" She mutters, scratching her chin. "Maybe you have one."

"Have what?"

"A second body. A second you."

"…are you sure?"

"I mean, you shouted this all being an attack earlier, but I doubt it. I touched you with that other body, and it did something." She shrugs, before moving her arm forwards, a second, golden arm flaking into existence, to her surprise. "You did the same with your fist, and it did something too."

"But fire?"

"Not just fire! It was…"

She moves her hands around, before pausing to actually patch herself up, the golden lady losing most of her legs up to her knees doing so.

"And those pictures! It felt like I was leaking what little memory I had."

"Really?"

"Mhm. All going out." Her cheek is healed. She's got a nice face. Somewhat prominent eyebrows but those are in right now, right? Maybe keeping up with the latest in fashion trends is not a priority right now.

"And how do I…"

"Intent, I guess." She tilts what remains of her golden hand side to side before she goes back to filling in the gap in her stomach. "I want it to be there. And it is there. Or talk. I guess. And she talks. I can see and hear through her, and it's… weird. Not disorienting, when it should be."

She curls her lips. Perhaps she's over-explaining things, you have no doubt she's thinking about such.

Or maybe she's explaining too little. She adds… "I kind of wish I were her."

"Why?"

"She's perfect. I mean, beyond the whole… looking like an alien robot. She just looks nice, I guess. Perfect, almost. In terms of… a je ne sais quoi. She was probably made pristine. I wasn't."

"I mean… you are probably her, already." They work like one organism, right? Complete harmony. As easy as blinking. "Like… that cut on your forearm. It appeared on both her and you. Or you and her? I don't know."

"Hehe. It's weird."

"I guess." You giggle alongside her, for a tidbit.

Maybe laugh for a bit more. Just for no reason at all.

It's not even funny. You're just laughing along because she's laughing.

Stupid, stupid snort-laugh. Your laugh is high pitched. Maybe it's annoying, you don't know.

Maybe that's a bit funny. Or dumb. And you have no memories, so maybe this is normal. To laugh 'just because'.

Maybe you've gone crazy. Disorder and spaces and a reflection of one's mind, and all.

But you calm down, and so does she. "The stand! The punch ghost. How about you call yours?"

"Well, here goes nothing…" You've seen how her's works. Or worked, earlier. There's, perhaps, a nagging instinct to how this should go. And so, you reach out your hand, out towards… well, nothing in particular. The flag, because why not. And a hand fizzles into existence.

Like a flame. Like burning plastic hisses. Crinkles. Static. It looks more robotic than Christine's own. Paler. Silver, plastic. Green-blue, white, black, and bits of red red in ball joints that nonetheless move as organically as your flesh and blood hand. It has an arm. It has… not clothes. Not exactly.

They're bolted on with those red screws. Reddish-orange, like the sort you see in cheap scissors. It covers its torso, your second torso, like a jacket, sewn tightly through the middle with green-blue threads like a shoelace, maybe. Or perhaps a mixture between a corset and a tightly fitting synthetic biker jacket padded in black leather. The main body of the "clothes" only covers the arms and the torso, white, though covered in interwoven, black drawings in bold, thick lines.

The collar goes up to her chin, opening up to reveal a trachea made of transparent, almost sepia, plastic, with all complexities removed. Bones? Those are metal. Scaffolding. Silver and sometimes white which seems almost like aluminium, but not quite. Running down… thighs, shin, with feet encased within similarly artificial shoes.

Face hidden under a plate, with a slit, extending over backwards like a cycling sprint helmet. A medieval helmet belonging to knights hybridized with one belonging to a racer. What does that say about you?

From below, you see your face, or what little is visible. Hollow eyes, releasing smoke. Like pits. Or camera shutters.
From above, you see your face, all of it exposed and visible. Big, brown eyes, full of life, and wide with what may pass as recognition. Messy hair. Bloodied lips.

Well, you're not sure you'd count her as beautiful… but… she's you. And, well, you guess you already named the other one.

Why not this one.

It leeched the past right. Just like…

God You. Deus.

Then… Perhaps you're calling on memories that don't really exist for this, but you just brought a fragment of divinity into function right here.

Or your soul. Something deep inside tells you that's correct.

Function… activation… ah! You got it now.

「Deus Online」

The name fits. Just as if it was called that before your unfortunate memory loss. It extends two fingers towards the object you were most curious towards and…

Flag ignited, pictures played forth within the licks of flame. Glimpses as it burnt just paint, paper not quite flaking away, but darkening, browning. It hisses like a gas flame

In the glimpses, there is… a man. Unremarkable, really. Hair brown, jacket brown, details too hazy to call clearer than that. Boring brown. Everything brown. A long, partially undone belt trails behind the jacket, like a tail; with untied boots no doubt 'clicking' at the floor. You suppose, because beyond the flame, there is no sound.

There was a figure that followed him silently. All cracked. Blue. Squarish. Silver, maybe. Missing most of its face. It looks like a ghost. Like a Stand. Christine used the term by accident and… why not, it fits, you guess. Black hair like a stary sky, trailing like a mane. It possibly looked more corpulent in the past. But that more natural, organic frame has little to no left, revealing wiring and piping underneath. You dread to think what the owner of it looked like, if this was the state of it.

As soon as the man finishes painting the flag… he turns around and he makes contact with the thing with just eyes, for the rest of its face is gone.

It beats him down.

The playback is silent. Details scarce. But it wasn't anything remotely kind, from what you see. The path is something you suspected, already. Neither you nor Christine are visible.

But you know the corpse now. And also the perpetrator. You'll note this down.

SELF NOTE: Discover the identity of the rat man.
SELF NOTE: Discover the identity of the Stand without a face.

Christine shaking your shoulder shakes you from your thoughts. Of course. She was here. She didn't go anywhere while you got stuck seeing that rainbow fire eat away at the paint and leave the newspapers intact. The flag is now gone.

"Let's piece this all together. Kay? You and me and— well, no one else."

[] Piece together what happened here.

• Write in. Be as detailed as you please.
• Feel free to add notes by writing NOTE: at the end of a vote. These can affect what your character pays attention to.

"Maybe afterwards we could raid the closet for clothes."

Pursing your lips to avoid giving away how you feel about that, you nod. "Yeah. I'd like that. A lot."

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Timer for Vote: 2 Days (Aprox.) (For EST, More or less hours applicable if I wake up or don't wake up.)

For optimal results, this may require discussing.

 

[FloraRead]

It'll take me a bit to update the informational posts. Tell me if I forgot to update anything! I'm absolutely beat.

 

[Dark&Peculiar]

I think the best idea would be to try using Deus on Christine's objects then possibly Christine herself since it worked perfectly before Deus should be asked questions until they speak.

 

[SaberFail]

So the rat man came with the no face stand, painted the flag, then the stand beat him to death, leaving his head in the toilet?

And we weren't in the vision, so did we arrive later? Or did neither rat and no face notice us?

 

[FloraRead]

Voting Extended.

Apologies on the lack of reply so far, but real life got kind of hectic and now that I'm back I realize I cant really write a write-in without proper votes. Would a list of facts and fragments collected from the prior posts so far help with this? (Should I make it a thing always? Could be useful for these sort of analysis sections.)

 

[FloraRead]

Alright, I've decided that next Friday is the limit on voting. If there's no votes I'll continue the quest with a fill in of [X] I don't have a clue. Stagnating like this isn't good for momentum.

 

[Ralakesh]

[X] Piece together what happened here.
-[X] You discovered that your subconsciousness conceals some valuable secrets and clues. You just have to uncover them. So, let's take a trip down the memory lane.
-[X] The head in the bathroom. Whose it is? Certainly not Christine's, and it doesn't look like yours... Or does it? The first thought you had once you woke up was to check if you still have your head on the shoulders, and for a moment, it seemed to you it was in the toilet. Perhaps the head you have on right now is not your true head? Head into the bathroom to check.
-[X] Pick up that finger you noticed earlier on the way.
-[X] Now that you are here, another unexplainable urge you had was to touch the floor. Better late than never, touch the floor now.
-[X] Use 「Deus Online」to get infromation from supposedly-your-previous head and caucasian finger.
-[X] NOTE: You remember a few other things your twisted psyche slipped up about. Whatever situation you are in has been going on for a week now.

Hopefully you're out of this mess before you get to it, because those last five days, and you're not eager to add period cramps into the mix of pains ailing your body.

Click to shrink...

And you might be a journalist

Just another day in the life of a journalist… (leave the bathroom, cautiously)

Click to shrink...

 

[NedTheNanite]

[X] Ralakesh