Post by Emmie on Nov 11, 2009 19:34:29 GMT -5
Title: Curse you, FOX, for tricking me thrice!
Summary: Joss seeks his revenge against FOX for canceling Dollhouse by calling forth a powerful ally.
Characters: Joss, Buffy
Warnings: Character Death
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1121
Joss dropped the phone onto his desk and hung his head in despair. Despair at this loss that he’d hoped beyond hope to avoid. The burning pit of neverending shame and disappointment circled his gut until it drove over the pothole of rage he kept locked away in cases of character-death-scene emergencies. The despair curdled the rage, frothing it like a milkshake gone rancid.
“Cancel me?” he muttered. “You think you can cancel me? Oh, ho, well I guess you can since you’ve done it two times before. Curse you, FOX, for tricking me thrice!” He banged the desk with his fist. “Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal, oh evil smiter of the smited.” He ground his teeth. “Oooh powerful you may be in certain reality-based circles, but here in the Whedonverse, I reign supreme!” He rubbed his hands together, eyebrow raised diabolically. “Yes, I will have my sweet and slightly chilled revenge with a twist of lime and a froufy little umbrella and it will be delicious. Your defeat is at hand for I shall unleash my most powerful weapon upon thee!”
He strode over to his bookshelf lined with DVDs and pulled out his complete collection of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Laying the DVDs on the carpet in the center of his office, he held his pen aloft and waved it, chanting, “Come forth, tiny blonde one! Come forth and slay like the wind!”
A bright light flashed and in SFX fashion, Buffy materialized like a vampire dusting, only in reverse.
“Welcome, my first and most iconic child. I have called you because the world needs your help. There is evil to be slayed.”
“Another apocalypse?" Buffy groaned. "Can't we schedule this after Italian Carnevale? 'Cause I kinda already made plans. Besides the world can't be ending. It's the middle of winter." She huffed out a breath at the sight of Joss' raised brow of censure, then straightened her shoulders and firmed her jaw. "Okay, fine. What’s the sitch? Vampires, evil hellgods, smarmy preachers?”
“No, something worse. Something I’ve worked tirelessly to protect you from all these years. Buffy, the time has come for you to face the evil you narrowly escaped yourself, only because we decided to end the show in its seventh season. This evilest of evil has slain your brethren and only you can avenge them.”
“My what now?" Buffy screwed up her face in confusion. "I have a sister. Dawn. Cute, blue eyes, kinda whiny,” she reminded him. “See? No brethren. Well, unless my dad’s gotten his secretary-wife knocked up. Oh god, is this about Dad? ‘Cause I’m so over my neglecty father issues. He’s gone and I’m okay with that. I pretty much got over it when I had to die to save the world. It’s hard to top that in terms of emotional baggage.”
“No, you see, the truth is...” He laid his hand on her shoulder and heaved a sigh. “Buffy, I am your father.”
Eyes wide, she breathed, “Get out."
It’s true.”
“No way!”
“Way!”
“Whoa.”
“I know.”
“So you and my mom…?”
“Well, not exactly. Technically I’m her father, too.”
She jerked away from him. “Ewww gross!”
He threw up his hands. “No, no! Not gross! See, I’m like your existential father. Your creator. I’m like, uh, the god of your world.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “So you think you’re a god now?”
He shrugged. “Well, people keep calling me one and with all the praising of me, it started to become this whole thing.” He waved his hand. “Not important. What’s important is the evil you are destined to slay.”
“So it is vampires then. Nifty. I’ve been dying for some good ol' slayage.”
“Hmm, I guess they are bloodsuckers if we want to get all figurative,” he mused. “Though they’re not undead. But they are evil and they brutally murdered your brethren – Angel, Firefly and Dollhouse." He paused and cocked his head to the side. "Oh well, technically it was the WB who killed Angel but since they're gone--”
"Angel's dead?!" She gasped and her eyes started to tear up. “Oh, god… I didn’t… I never told him… cookie dough…”
“Oh no, Angel’s fine! He’s off living it up in a million different comics going in aimless directions over at IDW. He’s just been banished to another universe, but trust me, he’s spiffy. But still, the evil overlords of the FOX network must pay for axing the Serenity crew and Eliza. Poor, poor Eliza. You, Buffy, are their only hope.”
“But how can Angel be okay if--”
“Buffy, I don’t have time to explain the alternate canons that exist in the comics universe, okay? Just trust me when I tell you he's been banished to a place of not goodness and I have a plan to rescue him by pulling him through a portal in a few years when I'm less busy. Now, here’s the address. Go kill all the people working there and text me when it’s finished. Cool?”
“But I don’t kill humans,” she protested, continuing in a serious after-school special tone, “because it’s wrong.”
“Curse your inconvenient morality that I worked so tirelessly to develop for seven televised seasons!” he bemoaned, shaking his fists in the air. Rushing over to his desk, he quickly wrote notes on a blank sheet of paper. Finished, he pointed at her. “There. I've rewritten your characterization. You kill humans now, rob banks and also have exponentially prefixey super powers that include flying. Go forth and massacre, my child!”
“But I don’t thi--”
“I said go!” He pointed towards the door. “Go or I’ll kill you. Again.”
“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. She cocked her head to the side. “So how does this flying thing work anyhow?”
He walked over and stood beside her. “Oh, see you click your heels and say ‘Up, up and away!’ Like this.” He demonstrated for her, shaking his hips, hair flopping across his forehead.
Rolling her eyes, she said in glib montone, “Up, up and away,” barely remembering to click her heels at the very last second.
“No! You’ve gotta do it with more panache. And you’ve gotta mean it. The emotional resonance of the moment must be true. That’s the heart of your power. Your, uh, heart. Now close your eyes and find your center, find it and hold onto it. Feel it with all of your being. Got it? Okay, good. Action!”
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on finding her center, then clicked her heels. “Up, up and away!” Eyes still closed, she muttered under her breath, “God, please take me away.” Opening her eyes, she gasped to find herself floating in the air. “Whoa!”
“Pretty cool, huh?”
“Way cool,” she breathed. “I’m like a superhero.”
“Technically you were already a superhero. Now you’re like a super awesome superhero.”
“Super awesome, huh? So awesome that I would never hurt innocent human beings?”
“Oh, they’re not innocent! And I’m pretty sure they sold their souls years ago, so bonus: they’re soulless. And you know how you feel about evil beings without souls,” he singsonged, wagging his finger at her.
She frowned. “Can’t they just go get souls? You could have that Africa demon guy ensoul them.”
“No, never!” he denied. “You can’t just go handing out souls all willy nilly. It diminishes the narrative effect. Everyone can’t be on a path to redemption. Some people just need to die. Violently. Possibly from their innards being liquefied by lasers. Oh, wait.” He jotted down another line on the page of notes. “Now you have lasers that shoot from your eyes.”
Her jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”
He grinned. “Try it out. Remember, feel the emotion.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She closed her eyes, concentrating, before giving up with a sigh. “I don’t think it’s working.”
Opening her eyes, she gasped as lasers shot from her eyes into his body.
“Nooooooooooooo!" he howled, his body catching fire and disintegrating in SFX fashion the way vampires dusted, only not in reverse this time. "I haven’t written an emotionally wrenching soliloquy for my death scene yet!”
"Ooops." Buffy floated down to the floor and landed next to his pile of ashes. “I guess I still had some father issues I needed to work out.”
Summary: Joss seeks his revenge against FOX for canceling Dollhouse by calling forth a powerful ally.
Characters: Joss, Buffy
Warnings: Character Death
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1121
Joss dropped the phone onto his desk and hung his head in despair. Despair at this loss that he’d hoped beyond hope to avoid. The burning pit of neverending shame and disappointment circled his gut until it drove over the pothole of rage he kept locked away in cases of character-death-scene emergencies. The despair curdled the rage, frothing it like a milkshake gone rancid.
“Cancel me?” he muttered. “You think you can cancel me? Oh, ho, well I guess you can since you’ve done it two times before. Curse you, FOX, for tricking me thrice!” He banged the desk with his fist. “Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal, oh evil smiter of the smited.” He ground his teeth. “Oooh powerful you may be in certain reality-based circles, but here in the Whedonverse, I reign supreme!” He rubbed his hands together, eyebrow raised diabolically. “Yes, I will have my sweet and slightly chilled revenge with a twist of lime and a froufy little umbrella and it will be delicious. Your defeat is at hand for I shall unleash my most powerful weapon upon thee!”
He strode over to his bookshelf lined with DVDs and pulled out his complete collection of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Laying the DVDs on the carpet in the center of his office, he held his pen aloft and waved it, chanting, “Come forth, tiny blonde one! Come forth and slay like the wind!”
A bright light flashed and in SFX fashion, Buffy materialized like a vampire dusting, only in reverse.
“Welcome, my first and most iconic child. I have called you because the world needs your help. There is evil to be slayed.”
“Another apocalypse?" Buffy groaned. "Can't we schedule this after Italian Carnevale? 'Cause I kinda already made plans. Besides the world can't be ending. It's the middle of winter." She huffed out a breath at the sight of Joss' raised brow of censure, then straightened her shoulders and firmed her jaw. "Okay, fine. What’s the sitch? Vampires, evil hellgods, smarmy preachers?”
“No, something worse. Something I’ve worked tirelessly to protect you from all these years. Buffy, the time has come for you to face the evil you narrowly escaped yourself, only because we decided to end the show in its seventh season. This evilest of evil has slain your brethren and only you can avenge them.”
“My what now?" Buffy screwed up her face in confusion. "I have a sister. Dawn. Cute, blue eyes, kinda whiny,” she reminded him. “See? No brethren. Well, unless my dad’s gotten his secretary-wife knocked up. Oh god, is this about Dad? ‘Cause I’m so over my neglecty father issues. He’s gone and I’m okay with that. I pretty much got over it when I had to die to save the world. It’s hard to top that in terms of emotional baggage.”
“No, you see, the truth is...” He laid his hand on her shoulder and heaved a sigh. “Buffy, I am your father.”
Eyes wide, she breathed, “Get out."
It’s true.”
“No way!”
“Way!”
“Whoa.”
“I know.”
“So you and my mom…?”
“Well, not exactly. Technically I’m her father, too.”
She jerked away from him. “Ewww gross!”
He threw up his hands. “No, no! Not gross! See, I’m like your existential father. Your creator. I’m like, uh, the god of your world.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “So you think you’re a god now?”
He shrugged. “Well, people keep calling me one and with all the praising of me, it started to become this whole thing.” He waved his hand. “Not important. What’s important is the evil you are destined to slay.”
“So it is vampires then. Nifty. I’ve been dying for some good ol' slayage.”
“Hmm, I guess they are bloodsuckers if we want to get all figurative,” he mused. “Though they’re not undead. But they are evil and they brutally murdered your brethren – Angel, Firefly and Dollhouse." He paused and cocked his head to the side. "Oh well, technically it was the WB who killed Angel but since they're gone--”
"Angel's dead?!" She gasped and her eyes started to tear up. “Oh, god… I didn’t… I never told him… cookie dough…”
“Oh no, Angel’s fine! He’s off living it up in a million different comics going in aimless directions over at IDW. He’s just been banished to another universe, but trust me, he’s spiffy. But still, the evil overlords of the FOX network must pay for axing the Serenity crew and Eliza. Poor, poor Eliza. You, Buffy, are their only hope.”
“But how can Angel be okay if--”
“Buffy, I don’t have time to explain the alternate canons that exist in the comics universe, okay? Just trust me when I tell you he's been banished to a place of not goodness and I have a plan to rescue him by pulling him through a portal in a few years when I'm less busy. Now, here’s the address. Go kill all the people working there and text me when it’s finished. Cool?”
“But I don’t kill humans,” she protested, continuing in a serious after-school special tone, “because it’s wrong.”
“Curse your inconvenient morality that I worked so tirelessly to develop for seven televised seasons!” he bemoaned, shaking his fists in the air. Rushing over to his desk, he quickly wrote notes on a blank sheet of paper. Finished, he pointed at her. “There. I've rewritten your characterization. You kill humans now, rob banks and also have exponentially prefixey super powers that include flying. Go forth and massacre, my child!”
“But I don’t thi--”
“I said go!” He pointed towards the door. “Go or I’ll kill you. Again.”
“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. She cocked her head to the side. “So how does this flying thing work anyhow?”
He walked over and stood beside her. “Oh, see you click your heels and say ‘Up, up and away!’ Like this.” He demonstrated for her, shaking his hips, hair flopping across his forehead.
Rolling her eyes, she said in glib montone, “Up, up and away,” barely remembering to click her heels at the very last second.
“No! You’ve gotta do it with more panache. And you’ve gotta mean it. The emotional resonance of the moment must be true. That’s the heart of your power. Your, uh, heart. Now close your eyes and find your center, find it and hold onto it. Feel it with all of your being. Got it? Okay, good. Action!”
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on finding her center, then clicked her heels. “Up, up and away!” Eyes still closed, she muttered under her breath, “God, please take me away.” Opening her eyes, she gasped to find herself floating in the air. “Whoa!”
“Pretty cool, huh?”
“Way cool,” she breathed. “I’m like a superhero.”
“Technically you were already a superhero. Now you’re like a super awesome superhero.”
“Super awesome, huh? So awesome that I would never hurt innocent human beings?”
“Oh, they’re not innocent! And I’m pretty sure they sold their souls years ago, so bonus: they’re soulless. And you know how you feel about evil beings without souls,” he singsonged, wagging his finger at her.
She frowned. “Can’t they just go get souls? You could have that Africa demon guy ensoul them.”
“No, never!” he denied. “You can’t just go handing out souls all willy nilly. It diminishes the narrative effect. Everyone can’t be on a path to redemption. Some people just need to die. Violently. Possibly from their innards being liquefied by lasers. Oh, wait.” He jotted down another line on the page of notes. “Now you have lasers that shoot from your eyes.”
Her jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”
He grinned. “Try it out. Remember, feel the emotion.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She closed her eyes, concentrating, before giving up with a sigh. “I don’t think it’s working.”
Opening her eyes, she gasped as lasers shot from her eyes into his body.
“Nooooooooooooo!" he howled, his body catching fire and disintegrating in SFX fashion the way vampires dusted, only not in reverse this time. "I haven’t written an emotionally wrenching soliloquy for my death scene yet!”
"Ooops." Buffy floated down to the floor and landed next to his pile of ashes. “I guess I still had some father issues I needed to work out.”
***