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madimpossibledreamerfor what it's worth, fitz, i'm sorry too
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Fitz finishes the Stand fight.
Word Count: 1451
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
If the blond has to bet on anything, though, he will bet it all on Jojo, as he has time and time again, though he’ll hedge his bet with the others and hope that Darling, at least, will ignore the Captain’s orders and come for him.
It’s his turn to distract, and if there’s one characteristic the Stand wearing Johan’s face and the original truly share, it’s a desire to talk. He should find it easy enough to prompt it to speak, and it might even get a little too close as it monologues its villain plans.
“Well, you have my attention. A captive audience. What are you planning on doing with me, then?” he asks, relaxing a little, conserving his energy for the moment to strike.
The brown eye widens, surprised. “You? Nothing. I just wanted you to stop trying to fight me, because being dead? Kinda doesn’t appeal.” He pauses, then shrugs. “Well, actually, that’s not the full truth, but it’s close enough. It’s not you I need, not exactly. Pinocchio just wants to be a real boy.”
Fitz fights the anger, struggles to keep the snarl from his lips. Antagonizing the Stand, no matter how angry he is at the thought, is not a smart plan at the moment.
Differences exist. Fairly substantial ones. Pinocchio was not, for example, in either the Disney adaptation or the original published under the pen name Carlo Collodi, made in the shape of a real living human. The wording suggests also that the Stand hasn’t ‘finished’, that more steps are required to make him ‘a real boy’, and yet, he hasn’t turned back to his original form. The best-case scenario is that the Stand is not seeking to replace Jojo—but, his mind reminds him, dark humor stark in the light of the flickering torches, since when has he encountered a best-case scenario, on his own or since having met Xander?
“And you suspected I might object,” he follows, reasonably, and the Stand nods, appearing relieved.
“It’s a piece of More Than One Heart. I've got his memories, and lemme tell you, buddy, intense is kind of a weak way to describe how you act, sometimes. I’m not kidding when I say you’re terrifying. It’s just that Xander likes that kind of thing, for some reason.” It’s hard to tell if the Stand is baiting him on purpose or accidentally, though the end result is the same. “You contributed, but it didn’t have to be you.” At least that’s working. He’s downright chatty.
“See, though, now we have this problem.” The Stand starts pacing—perfect. Really, this is going so smoothly as to make Fitz uncomfortable. “Because if I walk away, you’ll be out of range, and then you’ll just come for me again, and that would suck. But standing here forever is kind of not on the game plan, either, given that weird vampire dude promised me it’d be easy enough to escape as long as I actually did the escape bit. I don’t suppose we could come to some sort of arrangement?” His hopeful puppy-dog expression as he wanders closer is almost completely accurate, which hurts.
Fitz considers. “I don’t suppose you could replace someone else?” He’s unlikely to take the deal that way, either. Jojo would probably be disappointed in him, even if that involved, say, replacing this Wesley. But it doesn’t hurt to have an idea of the degree of his opposition to the bargain. And he’s found a bright spot—despite how little he thinks has changed, it has, because he would have taken the deal without hesitation when he’d first met the Joestar, if another (even himself) could be sacrificed in Jojo’s place.
“Bad people are hard. So much can go wrong. At least this way, I’ve got a chance, you know? I’m trying to think positive.” Besides, the blond completes for the Stand, if only mentally, he’d been promised something by some vampire. It’d probably been a slip he hadn’t intended to make, but he’d made it, and the detail seemed important. He could ask more questions about it, but if he stalls for too much longer, it might appear suspicious, and LJ feels impatient. Whatever strength he’d hoped to gather through a waiting game, he won’t get any more, now, no matter how much he waits.
So he acts. Pours everything he has into Have a Nice Dream, the effect spreading faster than the Stand can pull away, out of the spectral water the Stand itself had summoned. His fingers go slack, and the knife falls from his hand. If he’s failed, if he’s miscalculated, he’s surely disarmed himself more effectively than that Stand ever could. He keeps forcing his eyelids open, trying his best to stay awake.
Fortunately, it doesn’t appear he has, given the stumbling figure he sees when he does manage to look and focus. “Wh-what? Why?” the Stand manages, voice sounding like it’s about to melt at any moment.
“My friends.” Fitz manages, losing track of his sentence through the yawn. It takes him a minute or two to string words back together. He can’t tell through the drifting, through the air, in his mind. It’s all become dreamlike. “Will rescue. You’re…alone.” He hopes.
“Rude,” the Stand responds, and then they’re both giggling drunkenly, suddenly. And then the flow of time loses any sense of meaning.
He wakes suddenly, still floating, at the sound of the sitting Stand talking to itself, muttering. It hurts to concentrate to try to make sense of the words, but at last the blond manages it. Creative insults, worthy of Shakespeare, but hardly relevant, until it exclaims, sounding more coherent itself. “Oh, for crying out loud, can’t one of you let me have this? Just this once?” The slurred whining plead sounds vague and far away, characteristic of the Stand’s entire demeanor, before its voice quickly changes, a note in its voice Fitz has never heard. “Wait, what are you—”
The wet splatter against the opposite wall is never a sound that bodes well, but if the blond needed any confirmation of that fact, it’s the fact that the invisible water holding him in a gentle prison disappears in an instant, and he falls. Nothing waits to soften his fall, and the crunch and sudden stabbing pain suggest that his fall on his wrist broke it. Still, he struggles against that, against the dazy haze blanketing his mind as surely as the water had. Manages, barely, to get to a sitting position.
And even half falling asleep, he recognizes that shape. He sees it in his nightmares; if anything, it’s a familiar sight in his subconscious. The cowled figure, facial features between a gas mask and a beak only visible in the low light due to the way its eyes glow, and the cloth wrapped round its frame. He experiences one utterly sobering moment of pure regret that he’d never described that part of his nightmare for Jojo, so that he could spot the danger as well, but even at his most self-sacrificial, he’d never considered that a time might come when he would no longer be at Johan’s side. Even after their fight with Stereo Love. He should have prepared for the eventuality, even if, as in the previous case, it’s simply their getting separated. And while the man puts on a brave face, that big heart had already suffered too much.
“Back to finish the job, bastard?” he spits, defiant in the face of oblivion.
The head angles, as if it doesn’t understand the question, and then it moves forward.
I’m sorry, Xander, Jojo.
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Fitz finishes the Stand fight.
Word Count: 1451
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
For a long time now, Fitz has been losing himself in stories, which make sense to him in a way the real world just hadn’t. What sort of world took so much from him? So, especially when he has time to plan, to think, because at the moment his actions must be slow, methodical, pass under the Stand’s notice, he can’t help but notice the parallels, if this were a story written in some book. He’s been told of Caesar’s mistake, of a move made in haste and a lack of trust. All he can hope is that his story won’t end the same way—and, at least, in a story, his next move should result in a different outcome. At least, it would, if it were the kind of story trying to teach a moral. But real life doesn’t work like that. Famously, Einstein had said “God does not play dice with the universe,” and yet, if the randomness and probabilities inherent in current models of the universe are accurate, life is nothing but one big gamble.
If the blond has to bet on anything, though, he will bet it all on Jojo, as he has time and time again, though he’ll hedge his bet with the others and hope that Darling, at least, will ignore the Captain’s orders and come for him.
It’s his turn to distract, and if there’s one characteristic the Stand wearing Johan’s face and the original truly share, it’s a desire to talk. He should find it easy enough to prompt it to speak, and it might even get a little too close as it monologues its villain plans.
“Well, you have my attention. A captive audience. What are you planning on doing with me, then?” he asks, relaxing a little, conserving his energy for the moment to strike.
The brown eye widens, surprised. “You? Nothing. I just wanted you to stop trying to fight me, because being dead? Kinda doesn’t appeal.” He pauses, then shrugs. “Well, actually, that’s not the full truth, but it’s close enough. It’s not you I need, not exactly. Pinocchio just wants to be a real boy.”
Fitz fights the anger, struggles to keep the snarl from his lips. Antagonizing the Stand, no matter how angry he is at the thought, is not a smart plan at the moment.
Differences exist. Fairly substantial ones. Pinocchio was not, for example, in either the Disney adaptation or the original published under the pen name Carlo Collodi, made in the shape of a real living human. The wording suggests also that the Stand hasn’t ‘finished’, that more steps are required to make him ‘a real boy’, and yet, he hasn’t turned back to his original form. The best-case scenario is that the Stand is not seeking to replace Jojo—but, his mind reminds him, dark humor stark in the light of the flickering torches, since when has he encountered a best-case scenario, on his own or since having met Xander?
“And you suspected I might object,” he follows, reasonably, and the Stand nods, appearing relieved.
“It’s a piece of More Than One Heart. I've got his memories, and lemme tell you, buddy, intense is kind of a weak way to describe how you act, sometimes. I’m not kidding when I say you’re terrifying. It’s just that Xander likes that kind of thing, for some reason.” It’s hard to tell if the Stand is baiting him on purpose or accidentally, though the end result is the same. “You contributed, but it didn’t have to be you.” At least that’s working. He’s downright chatty.
“See, though, now we have this problem.” The Stand starts pacing—perfect. Really, this is going so smoothly as to make Fitz uncomfortable. “Because if I walk away, you’ll be out of range, and then you’ll just come for me again, and that would suck. But standing here forever is kind of not on the game plan, either, given that weird vampire dude promised me it’d be easy enough to escape as long as I actually did the escape bit. I don’t suppose we could come to some sort of arrangement?” His hopeful puppy-dog expression as he wanders closer is almost completely accurate, which hurts.
Fitz considers. “I don’t suppose you could replace someone else?” He’s unlikely to take the deal that way, either. Jojo would probably be disappointed in him, even if that involved, say, replacing this Wesley. But it doesn’t hurt to have an idea of the degree of his opposition to the bargain. And he’s found a bright spot—despite how little he thinks has changed, it has, because he would have taken the deal without hesitation when he’d first met the Joestar, if another (even himself) could be sacrificed in Jojo’s place.
“Bad people are hard. So much can go wrong. At least this way, I’ve got a chance, you know? I’m trying to think positive.” Besides, the blond completes for the Stand, if only mentally, he’d been promised something by some vampire. It’d probably been a slip he hadn’t intended to make, but he’d made it, and the detail seemed important. He could ask more questions about it, but if he stalls for too much longer, it might appear suspicious, and LJ feels impatient. Whatever strength he’d hoped to gather through a waiting game, he won’t get any more, now, no matter how much he waits.
So he acts. Pours everything he has into Have a Nice Dream, the effect spreading faster than the Stand can pull away, out of the spectral water the Stand itself had summoned. His fingers go slack, and the knife falls from his hand. If he’s failed, if he’s miscalculated, he’s surely disarmed himself more effectively than that Stand ever could. He keeps forcing his eyelids open, trying his best to stay awake.
Fortunately, it doesn’t appear he has, given the stumbling figure he sees when he does manage to look and focus. “Wh-what? Why?” the Stand manages, voice sounding like it’s about to melt at any moment.
“My friends.” Fitz manages, losing track of his sentence through the yawn. It takes him a minute or two to string words back together. He can’t tell through the drifting, through the air, in his mind. It’s all become dreamlike. “Will rescue. You’re…alone.” He hopes.
“Rude,” the Stand responds, and then they’re both giggling drunkenly, suddenly. And then the flow of time loses any sense of meaning.
He wakes suddenly, still floating, at the sound of the sitting Stand talking to itself, muttering. It hurts to concentrate to try to make sense of the words, but at last the blond manages it. Creative insults, worthy of Shakespeare, but hardly relevant, until it exclaims, sounding more coherent itself. “Oh, for crying out loud, can’t one of you let me have this? Just this once?” The slurred whining plead sounds vague and far away, characteristic of the Stand’s entire demeanor, before its voice quickly changes, a note in its voice Fitz has never heard. “Wait, what are you—”
The wet splatter against the opposite wall is never a sound that bodes well, but if the blond needed any confirmation of that fact, it’s the fact that the invisible water holding him in a gentle prison disappears in an instant, and he falls. Nothing waits to soften his fall, and the crunch and sudden stabbing pain suggest that his fall on his wrist broke it. Still, he struggles against that, against the dazy haze blanketing his mind as surely as the water had. Manages, barely, to get to a sitting position.
And even half falling asleep, he recognizes that shape. He sees it in his nightmares; if anything, it’s a familiar sight in his subconscious. The cowled figure, facial features between a gas mask and a beak only visible in the low light due to the way its eyes glow, and the cloth wrapped round its frame. He experiences one utterly sobering moment of pure regret that he’d never described that part of his nightmare for Jojo, so that he could spot the danger as well, but even at his most self-sacrificial, he’d never considered that a time might come when he would no longer be at Johan’s side. Even after their fight with Stereo Love. He should have prepared for the eventuality, even if, as in the previous case, it’s simply their getting separated. And while the man puts on a brave face, that big heart had already suffered too much.
“Back to finish the job, bastard?” he spits, defiant in the face of oblivion.
The head angles, as if it doesn’t understand the question, and then it moves forward.
I’m sorry, Xander, Jojo.
