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madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Jojo, Fitz, and Thief Girl (Darling) meet a new Stand User.
Word Count: 1191
Rating: Gen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.
And, man, he’d thought he’d been getting better about being in his own head after years Watchering in Africa, but this was as depressing as teenagerhood. Maybe Whisper really had shaken a few things loose. At least he had Pretender and even a few new friends he’d picked up along the way to keep him on an even keel, especially when he can’t Tora any of the previous (dead!) Watcher’s Council bastards in the face. He debates for all of two seconds before he decides that yes, defacing the tombstones or smashing their skeletons up would be too cruel, too morbid, even for him. Which reminds him, vampire nest; he should pass the warning along, although he suspects that both he and the shinily new ISWC had more pressing concerns than just a stray possibly vicious pack of vampires, and really, his life might be kind of messed up when he can wish for the simple days of patrolling for supernatural bloodsuckers every night after, shudder, homework.
Point is, when he watches the way the blonde moves as she maneuvers midair with appreciation, he’s admiring her strength, her technique.
Goddess, he’s really hoping she’s not an enemy, because he’d hate to face that, someone with that control, that much awareness of their own body and how to use it and, presumably, how to hurt others. And, oh, Willow’s got him doing it now. Well, she’ll probably be happy that he’s swearing to her standards, or something, and he misses her and they really need to talk, but not now. Obviously.
Fitz has misread the situation, though, because he sighs. Loudly. Pointedly. Like he’s checking her out, and, yes, he kind of does have a thing for blonds, especially strong, confident blonds, but that’s not important right now. It’s easy enough to misread the situation, though, especially when bad timing is a Harris family tradition. Though he’s not really a Harris anymore, huh? Not really. Which will never not be awesome. “Please, Fitz, I’m not Joseph,” he mutters just loud enough for his friend to hear, and the eyebrows raise pretty high in response. Although that’s unfair, because Joseph…
For all Joseph behaved like a hyperactive child on candy, for every bit of that act that was genuine, there was also…it was also a smokescreen. Nothing new there, then. Playing dumb, playing the fool, to get others to underestimate you, to like you better, whatever was needed for the situation. ‘Course, Joseph probably would be checking her out even as he evaluates her fighting style from simply her gliding in, or something. Which he’s kind of doing, but more of the latter than the former.
When she’s fairly close, he reaches inside for where Pretender hangs out, and feels the Stand stir in readiness. If she plans to use any of her admittedly pretty weapons on them, he’ll be ready.
She touches something on the crossbar of the glider, and the wing retracts, sending her falling. By the way she controls her body like it’s a simple dive into your average neighborhood pool and rolls into a short run toward them, unhurt, Johan can tell she’s an expert. That she’s done this, regularly, and for some reason no one’s filed a report with ISWC.
That he knows of.
He gets that being in Africa was important and all that, but seriously, he was out of the loop for way too long with stuff like this.
She gives a short bow, like she’s an old-fashioned duelist and they’re all going to draw old-fashioned foils or giant pistols or something.
And then in the space of a blink there’s a cyborg behind her, guns at the ready. It’s weird enough to be a Stand, but there’s something awfully familiar about it. He hasn’t dreamt of it recently enough to recognize it, though. Maybe he’ll schedule that, if he can figure out how. Then again, it’s Pretender who’s somehow involved, so it doesn’t really matter if he consciously knows how as long as his Stand does.
Of course, that doesn’t help him if he gets shot now. He feels the weird invisible water to his left, so LJ is out, and he feels both Darling and Whisper shuffle closer behind him, clinging.
He swallows. It’s probably good that he’s here and not Buffy or Willow, since they would completely wig out at the sight of a gun, but he’s not all that comfortable with them either. He has a theory, though. Or, well, it doesn’t have enough substance to be a theory. More like a fleeting instinct.
He raises his hands. A careful surrender. He doesn’t call out Pretender, even when he can feel his Stand stirring restlessly in his mind, worried for his safety.
“What are you doing?” Fitz hisses under his breath, but he doesn’t look, doesn’t dare take his eyes off the woman.
“If she was our enemy, one of those Stand Users we’ve been running into in this ridiculous Team Tryout, she would’ve just shot us down in the street, and there’s probably nothing even you could do about it,” he responds, feeling sure about this. Maybe, like the others, it’s just that she has an ego. Maybe she wants to gloat.
It’s a gamble. “She pulled her Stand out as a test, isn’t that right? Figure out if we were Stand Users?”
She stares with piercing blue eyes at him, face a blank mask (and there’s a few nightmares that’ll come back to haunt) before she demands, with an accent that he almost but doesn’t quite place, “Show me your Stand.”
He blinks, lost. “Excuse me?” Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe she’s the type who has some sort of weird, ridiculous honor code about not killing an opponent who hasn’t called their Stand, or something. Can the Ripple stop a bullet? But no, even if it could, that looks like some sort of automatic weapon, and he can’t stop that many bullets. There’s The World via Star Platinum, but he hasn’t dared try to stop time, not with the growing dread he thinks originates from Pretender any time he gets a little too close to those memories of Jotaro’s.
“Show me your Stand,” she repeats, even colder, spine ramrod straight, and—yeah, that’s a regulation at ease stance. He recognizes it from Halloween so many years ago. She’s military trained.
He bites his lips quietly, nervous, vaguely aware that’s a new habit, and calls to the Pretender to appear, without any sudden movements that could be construed as an attack. He’s not sure how trigger happy she is, after all, and it’s not just him in the firing line. At least the added solid presence at his back is a comfort.
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Jojo, Fitz, and Thief Girl (Darling) meet a new Stand User.
Word Count: 1191
Rating: Gen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.
Whoever this lady is, she clearly is either a Slayer or has military training. Though, the soldier still present somewhere in his psyche points out reasonably that the two aren’t mutually exclusive. Being a Slayer was being drafted to a military post at which point you learned everything you possibly could in the hopes that at least some of it could keep you alive for just a little while longer.
And, man, he’d thought he’d been getting better about being in his own head after years Watchering in Africa, but this was as depressing as teenagerhood. Maybe Whisper really had shaken a few things loose. At least he had Pretender and even a few new friends he’d picked up along the way to keep him on an even keel, especially when he can’t Tora any of the previous (dead!) Watcher’s Council bastards in the face. He debates for all of two seconds before he decides that yes, defacing the tombstones or smashing their skeletons up would be too cruel, too morbid, even for him. Which reminds him, vampire nest; he should pass the warning along, although he suspects that both he and the shinily new ISWC had more pressing concerns than just a stray possibly vicious pack of vampires, and really, his life might be kind of messed up when he can wish for the simple days of patrolling for supernatural bloodsuckers every night after, shudder, homework.
Point is, when he watches the way the blonde moves as she maneuvers midair with appreciation, he’s admiring her strength, her technique.
Goddess, he’s really hoping she’s not an enemy, because he’d hate to face that, someone with that control, that much awareness of their own body and how to use it and, presumably, how to hurt others. And, oh, Willow’s got him doing it now. Well, she’ll probably be happy that he’s swearing to her standards, or something, and he misses her and they really need to talk, but not now. Obviously.
Fitz has misread the situation, though, because he sighs. Loudly. Pointedly. Like he’s checking her out, and, yes, he kind of does have a thing for blonds, especially strong, confident blonds, but that’s not important right now. It’s easy enough to misread the situation, though, especially when bad timing is a Harris family tradition. Though he’s not really a Harris anymore, huh? Not really. Which will never not be awesome. “Please, Fitz, I’m not Joseph,” he mutters just loud enough for his friend to hear, and the eyebrows raise pretty high in response. Although that’s unfair, because Joseph…
For all Joseph behaved like a hyperactive child on candy, for every bit of that act that was genuine, there was also…it was also a smokescreen. Nothing new there, then. Playing dumb, playing the fool, to get others to underestimate you, to like you better, whatever was needed for the situation. ‘Course, Joseph probably would be checking her out even as he evaluates her fighting style from simply her gliding in, or something. Which he’s kind of doing, but more of the latter than the former.
When she’s fairly close, he reaches inside for where Pretender hangs out, and feels the Stand stir in readiness. If she plans to use any of her admittedly pretty weapons on them, he’ll be ready.
She touches something on the crossbar of the glider, and the wing retracts, sending her falling. By the way she controls her body like it’s a simple dive into your average neighborhood pool and rolls into a short run toward them, unhurt, Johan can tell she’s an expert. That she’s done this, regularly, and for some reason no one’s filed a report with ISWC.
That he knows of.
He gets that being in Africa was important and all that, but seriously, he was out of the loop for way too long with stuff like this.
She gives a short bow, like she’s an old-fashioned duelist and they’re all going to draw old-fashioned foils or giant pistols or something.
And then in the space of a blink there’s a cyborg behind her, guns at the ready. It’s weird enough to be a Stand, but there’s something awfully familiar about it. He hasn’t dreamt of it recently enough to recognize it, though. Maybe he’ll schedule that, if he can figure out how. Then again, it’s Pretender who’s somehow involved, so it doesn’t really matter if he consciously knows how as long as his Stand does.
Of course, that doesn’t help him if he gets shot now. He feels the weird invisible water to his left, so LJ is out, and he feels both Darling and Whisper shuffle closer behind him, clinging.
He swallows. It’s probably good that he’s here and not Buffy or Willow, since they would completely wig out at the sight of a gun, but he’s not all that comfortable with them either. He has a theory, though. Or, well, it doesn’t have enough substance to be a theory. More like a fleeting instinct.
He raises his hands. A careful surrender. He doesn’t call out Pretender, even when he can feel his Stand stirring restlessly in his mind, worried for his safety.
“What are you doing?” Fitz hisses under his breath, but he doesn’t look, doesn’t dare take his eyes off the woman.
“If she was our enemy, one of those Stand Users we’ve been running into in this ridiculous Team Tryout, she would’ve just shot us down in the street, and there’s probably nothing even you could do about it,” he responds, feeling sure about this. Maybe, like the others, it’s just that she has an ego. Maybe she wants to gloat.
It’s a gamble. “She pulled her Stand out as a test, isn’t that right? Figure out if we were Stand Users?”
She stares with piercing blue eyes at him, face a blank mask (and there’s a few nightmares that’ll come back to haunt) before she demands, with an accent that he almost but doesn’t quite place, “Show me your Stand.”
He blinks, lost. “Excuse me?” Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe she’s the type who has some sort of weird, ridiculous honor code about not killing an opponent who hasn’t called their Stand, or something. Can the Ripple stop a bullet? But no, even if it could, that looks like some sort of automatic weapon, and he can’t stop that many bullets. There’s The World via Star Platinum, but he hasn’t dared try to stop time, not with the growing dread he thinks originates from Pretender any time he gets a little too close to those memories of Jotaro’s.
“Show me your Stand,” she repeats, even colder, spine ramrod straight, and—yeah, that’s a regulation at ease stance. He recognizes it from Halloween so many years ago. She’s military trained.
He bites his lips quietly, nervous, vaguely aware that’s a new habit, and calls to the Pretender to appear, without any sudden movements that could be construed as an attack. He’s not sure how trigger happy she is, after all, and it’s not just him in the firing line. At least the added solid presence at his back is a comfort.
