Drabbles

Buffy Baseball Drabbles

Fandoms: BtVS, Red Sox

Babe Ruth, Vengeance Demon

Heading to L.A. to offer Angel some slayers. "To help him," they say. To get them off the bus, more like.

A stop in Oakland, and Faith disappears to a bar. A few hours later, they grab her from the wreckage, and zoom out of Oakland ahead of the police.

"A bar fight?" asks Buffy. "What were you thinking?"

"Relax, B, no permanent damage," Faith breezes. "We showed them! All the way, boys."

"' We?' Faith, what are you talking about?"

Faith ignores her. "Hey, Red? I'm not losing faith or nothin', but you have any mojo to lift curses?"

And I Feel Fine

Giles, exhausted, polishes his glasses. "Buffy, I've looked through every book Wesley found for me, and I can't find anything. The rain of fish makes sense, but conjoined with the locusts and the appearances of the wolf Fenris, I can't tell you what's causing this apocalypse."

Equally weary, Willow shuts her laptop. "Nothing on the net, either," she says. "Nothing about the river of molasses, or the winged boars. We need a new idea."

Kennedy throws Willow a hopeful look. "If we're at a dead-end, can I take a break? Game One of the World Series is on. Cubs/Red Sox."

Tara

Fandom: BtVS

The girls gossip about herbal tea and sexist profs who schedule homework for Samhain. They flip through the Sacred Source catalog for dream catchers, and make snide comments about how the Venus of Willendorf statuettes could stand to lose a few pounds. There's no magic here: no quiet spells with Mama in the kitchen, no lessons in healing when Daddy's not around, no dream walking and waking to the smell of burnt-out smudge. Just patchouli and piercings, and bossy wicca grrls who call her "chunky" when they think she's not listening.

There's no Daddy, and no Donny.

Tara loves it.

I Find This Frenzy Insufficient Reason for Conversation When We Meet Again

Fandoms: BtVS, Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna rises, works a kinked shoulder. Post-coital lassitude can't block the rage at her slumbering red-haired lover. Edna's being used to block memories of another, one with the strength to turn the luscious witch away. She sets pen to paper, and writes: "Once again undone, possessed." Sleeping, Willow rolls to reveal a perfect breast. Lust roils, and more words come: "Think not for this, however, the poor treason / Of my stout blood against my staggering brain, / I shall remember you with love, or season / My scorn with pity."

A sigh, a sleepy voice calls, "Edna?"

She spins, poem forgotten. "Darling."

Birds of Prey

Fandom: Birds of Prey

When Helena realises she's been fantasizing about the Time-Life Books operators on television, she can't deny it to herself anymore. She lies in bed, imagining her tongue on the cold metal of the headset. In her dreams, her mouth presses against the soft foam microphone, past it to lips, warmwetsoft. Her dream hands skim against metal wheelchair arms and skitter against the wheels. She runs hands between leather seat and sweaty t-shirt, feeling vertebrae.

In reality, she discovers, Barbara takes off the headset and brings Helena into her bed, so there's no headset, no wheels. She finds she doesn't mind.

Vorkosigan saga

Fandom: Vorkosigan saga

It's not safe." Mark huddled, trying for small. It was a heroic effort but doomed to fail.

"I don't see why," said Kareen, unfastening his shirt. "We've done Grunt and Howl. Together, even."

"Killer is a Killer. What're you thinking?"

She went for his pants, but folds of belly kept her from the fastener. She cupped him over the fabric, instead.

"I was thinking," she said, rubbing. "That Killer is very competent, and knows exactly how far's too far. I was thinking I've indulged Howl, and maybe," she squeezed a little too tightly. "Maybe it's your turn to indulge me."

Wonderfalls

Fandom: Wonderfalls

Brass Monkey says I love you, but he's only giving Jaye advice. Love your family, he implies, or some psychobabble crap, so you can love yourself.

Heh, love yourself. That's a good one. If Brass Monkey ever had a little quality self-loving, he might not see everything as a metaphor for sex. Flying, cigars, plucky princesses busting out in fountains. 'Course, Wax Lion knew everything was about sex -- everything except The Job, that is -- so he didn't have that repression problem Brass Monkey did.

Except late at night, when Wax Lion can pretend that Brass Monkey wasn't speaking to Jaye.