madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2022-07-29 05:00 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2022-07-29 05:00 pm
Entry tags:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 250
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Fitz has to decide what matters the most to him.
Word Count: 1245
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
“It’s a little rude to be asking questions when you yourself won’t answer mine,” Fitz states coolly. As always, he ends up coming back to lists. It wasn’t as if a ‘guide to kidnapping people’ had been published, and despite his own feverish assurance in the righteousness of his own actions, he’d been obsessed with getting it right, so he’d gone step by step. Food, sadly often leftovers from when he’d been sitting vigil waiting for Jojo to wake, but better than nothing. Hotel. Getting into said hotel. Writing his explanation, and rewriting, and rewriting. Calling his contacts to keep an eye on affairs, determine whether they were likely to be followed. Not in that order, of course.
Here, the steps are much simpler. Refuse to be baited, maintain the classic stiff upper lip, no matter the pain or vulnerability under the surface. He’s hardly going to melt the face off this vision of his friend until he knows, for absolutely certain, that it is some kind of doppelganger, but the tried and true works. It can hardly do this if it’s unconscious. The question is really how long does he let farce this go on?
“I’d be hurt by the question if that wasn’t the entire point.” The malice is gone, like a trick of the light, and if not for his stubborn grasp on what has to be reality—he will not be gaslit by this bastard, thank you, let alone his own mind—he’d wonder if he imagined it, if the stress was getting to him. Instead, it’s scared, uncertain. The fear that Xander holds in his heart is now on display, because no matter how he exaggerates and no matter how he tries to joke it is all real, the stories he’s told, and it’s exactly as bad as it sounds.
Damn this enemy to the very pits of Hell, or whatever equivalent actually exists. Because they’d both been too scared, for the most part, to be vulnerable like this, to show each other their pain, and no matter how much of a coward he is to actually let his friend close like that, he wants this. He wants to believe this illusion.
That’s almost certainly calculated. Cruel words cut deeper if delivered with a compassionate tone, and offering him this knowing this illusion will end…if he was trying to make this hurt, those are decisions he would’ve made.
Jojo laughs suddenly at the absurdity. “Some pair we make, huh.”
He nods. “Alike in all the best ways.” It’s a mistake, playing along, just like following this will’o wisp without backup in the first place, and yet, in some way, inevitable, a pull on his soul he could no more ignore than he could simply replace Lotus Juice with a different Stand just by thinking.
Johan simply shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “Can’t help yourself, can you? Your powers of imagination are stronger than I’ve ever seen.”
It’s an insult, or at least, it’s crafted as one, in contrast to the words contained within the sentence, but the blond just smiles. “Thank you.” The world had been too painful, so he merely…retreated. Found his escape, as many before him and no doubt many after, in the world of books. He’d loved his other’s stories, of course; always been partial to a well-told story, but before his entire life fell apart, he’d never been too interested in the wide array available, the power of the written word. He’d honed his imagination to an art form, keeping him safe within. Not without its dangers, certainly, hence his semi-disastrous first meeting with Xander, but a tool capable of good or ill.
Jojo grabs his arm, defensive. “You think you know me better than anyone else. You need to know me that well. You’ve made this pedestal for me, promising me pretty lies, but you’re only seeing what you want to see. I’m not even allowed to have flaws.”
“I’ve been trying to learn, to grow. I appreciate you being patient with me,” he responds.
The smile is sad, out of reach, untouchable. “Well, I can’t wait forever. You have to decide where you belong soon.”
It has yet to say anything he didn’t already know. Smart, honestly, because if it slips and lets him learn anything he’s not meant to know, then what’s the point? “Where I belong?”
“The past or the future. Your father’s here, you know.” Instantly he starts violently, the desire to make the man suffer warring with the realization that something far greater than personal revenge is at stake, even if his suspicion that the man plans further destruction and needs to be stopped, even if he wants justice for his mother. And if this isn’t Jojo, then he knows in his heart that something has stopped his friend from appearing and rescuing him heroically. As distractions go, not bad. It could even easily be a lie—in fact, it probably is, as there’s no profit in Sarde’s presence here, unless he’s seeking to end his own son like he snuffed out his mother’s life—but it doesn’t need to be true to pose an ethical dilemma that could delay Fitz just long enough.
“Thank you for the warning,” he states politely, gentle smile on his face, and Johan nods, looking a little confused. Until he lunges forward, burying his knife in his friend’s shoulder, the same point at which the harpoon had hit. With his arms crossed, there’s little chance of even a reflexive attack.
“What the hell?” the doppelganger screams, flailing as the blond pulls the blade back out smoothly, which decides it. His actual friend would have understood, even if he would’ve been in pain and would have nagged him about it for hours.
“If you’re really Jojo, you’d just use the Ripple to heal yourself. If you’re not, well. You’ll forgive me if injuring an enemy doesn’t overly weigh on my conscience.” He smiles menacingly, knife at the ready. “Where is Johan?”
“C-can’t fault a Stand for trying,” it stammers, afraid, but he gets the feeling it will still fight back, desperate and scared, like a wounded animal. For this kind of fight, though, he’s ready.
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Fitz has to decide what matters the most to him.
Word Count: 1245
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
Irony has a way of finding a man, Fitz thinks desperately. Here he’d just declared he’d rejected his logic, and yet, he has to rely on it. It hurts too much to let himself feel. Of course, this isn’t Johan. It can’t be. Or if it is, it’s the kind of thing he’d never say. It shouldn’t even matter, if it’s someone else, wearing his friend’s face. He shouldn’t be letting any of this get to him like this, shrugging it off—after all, so far, the only thing this wretched shell is doing is speaking at him. This isn’t some unavoidable physical attack. How did the saying go, sticks and stones? But emotionally, this is a gut-punch all the more wrenching because this stranger knows exactly what to say, feeding on Jojo’s memories like some obscene mockery of a parasite. Though the words, all those dark troubled thoughts, those are all Fitz’s; would make more sense coming from his throat. Though perhaps a copy of himself would be a little too obvious. He suspects it says something eloquent about him that while he’s hesitant to fight even a person wearing his friend’s face, he would not wait a single second if it pretended to be him.
“It’s a little rude to be asking questions when you yourself won’t answer mine,” Fitz states coolly. As always, he ends up coming back to lists. It wasn’t as if a ‘guide to kidnapping people’ had been published, and despite his own feverish assurance in the righteousness of his own actions, he’d been obsessed with getting it right, so he’d gone step by step. Food, sadly often leftovers from when he’d been sitting vigil waiting for Jojo to wake, but better than nothing. Hotel. Getting into said hotel. Writing his explanation, and rewriting, and rewriting. Calling his contacts to keep an eye on affairs, determine whether they were likely to be followed. Not in that order, of course.
Here, the steps are much simpler. Refuse to be baited, maintain the classic stiff upper lip, no matter the pain or vulnerability under the surface. He’s hardly going to melt the face off this vision of his friend until he knows, for absolutely certain, that it is some kind of doppelganger, but the tried and true works. It can hardly do this if it’s unconscious. The question is really how long does he let farce this go on?
“I’d be hurt by the question if that wasn’t the entire point.” The malice is gone, like a trick of the light, and if not for his stubborn grasp on what has to be reality—he will not be gaslit by this bastard, thank you, let alone his own mind—he’d wonder if he imagined it, if the stress was getting to him. Instead, it’s scared, uncertain. The fear that Xander holds in his heart is now on display, because no matter how he exaggerates and no matter how he tries to joke it is all real, the stories he’s told, and it’s exactly as bad as it sounds.
Damn this enemy to the very pits of Hell, or whatever equivalent actually exists. Because they’d both been too scared, for the most part, to be vulnerable like this, to show each other their pain, and no matter how much of a coward he is to actually let his friend close like that, he wants this. He wants to believe this illusion.
That’s almost certainly calculated. Cruel words cut deeper if delivered with a compassionate tone, and offering him this knowing this illusion will end…if he was trying to make this hurt, those are decisions he would’ve made.
Jojo laughs suddenly at the absurdity. “Some pair we make, huh.”
He nods. “Alike in all the best ways.” It’s a mistake, playing along, just like following this will’o wisp without backup in the first place, and yet, in some way, inevitable, a pull on his soul he could no more ignore than he could simply replace Lotus Juice with a different Stand just by thinking.
Johan simply shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “Can’t help yourself, can you? Your powers of imagination are stronger than I’ve ever seen.”
It’s an insult, or at least, it’s crafted as one, in contrast to the words contained within the sentence, but the blond just smiles. “Thank you.” The world had been too painful, so he merely…retreated. Found his escape, as many before him and no doubt many after, in the world of books. He’d loved his other’s stories, of course; always been partial to a well-told story, but before his entire life fell apart, he’d never been too interested in the wide array available, the power of the written word. He’d honed his imagination to an art form, keeping him safe within. Not without its dangers, certainly, hence his semi-disastrous first meeting with Xander, but a tool capable of good or ill.
Jojo grabs his arm, defensive. “You think you know me better than anyone else. You need to know me that well. You’ve made this pedestal for me, promising me pretty lies, but you’re only seeing what you want to see. I’m not even allowed to have flaws.”
“I’ve been trying to learn, to grow. I appreciate you being patient with me,” he responds.
The smile is sad, out of reach, untouchable. “Well, I can’t wait forever. You have to decide where you belong soon.”
It has yet to say anything he didn’t already know. Smart, honestly, because if it slips and lets him learn anything he’s not meant to know, then what’s the point? “Where I belong?”
“The past or the future. Your father’s here, you know.” Instantly he starts violently, the desire to make the man suffer warring with the realization that something far greater than personal revenge is at stake, even if his suspicion that the man plans further destruction and needs to be stopped, even if he wants justice for his mother. And if this isn’t Jojo, then he knows in his heart that something has stopped his friend from appearing and rescuing him heroically. As distractions go, not bad. It could even easily be a lie—in fact, it probably is, as there’s no profit in Sarde’s presence here, unless he’s seeking to end his own son like he snuffed out his mother’s life—but it doesn’t need to be true to pose an ethical dilemma that could delay Fitz just long enough.
“Thank you for the warning,” he states politely, gentle smile on his face, and Johan nods, looking a little confused. Until he lunges forward, burying his knife in his friend’s shoulder, the same point at which the harpoon had hit. With his arms crossed, there’s little chance of even a reflexive attack.
“What the hell?” the doppelganger screams, flailing as the blond pulls the blade back out smoothly, which decides it. His actual friend would have understood, even if he would’ve been in pain and would have nagged him about it for hours.
“If you’re really Jojo, you’d just use the Ripple to heal yourself. If you’re not, well. You’ll forgive me if injuring an enemy doesn’t overly weigh on my conscience.” He smiles menacingly, knife at the ready. “Where is Johan?”
“C-can’t fault a Stand for trying,” it stammers, afraid, but he gets the feeling it will still fight back, desperate and scared, like a wounded animal. For this kind of fight, though, he’s ready.