miscellaneous drabbles
Apr. 26th, 2012 11:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deird1Here are a whole lot of miscellaneous Buffyverse drabbles, and one double-drabble, mostly featuring OCs.
Do I Like Shrubs?
She needed a more exciting display, that was the problem.
What with the architects handing out free candy on one side, and the police staging a mock gun fight (hostages and all) on the other, no-one was even looking twice at her flyers.
She tried, though. She decorated her display with brightly coloured overalls, and some tools of the trade. She made posters that said GET DOWN AND DIRTY and PLANT POWER. And she handed out free trowels.
But it was the same every year.
No matter how many students ticked the ‘shrubs’ box, none of them ever showed up.
The Next Morning
You got used to tactfully handling strange objects, as a caretaker.
In just the last five months, items Harry had disposed of included three authentic World-War-1 navy uniforms, a blood-stained carpet, and a lifesize inflatable Mercedes.
And especially in this school, unusual kinds of mess were pretty much the norm.
You repaired broken windows, you replaced burnt classroom furniture, you replastered over axe gouges in the walls, and you didn’t say a word.
This one, though, might be a little difficult to explain.
Actually, more than a little difficult.
Harry stood there for a few minutes, quietly taking in the situation.
Then he pulled out his notepad.
*Broken banister rails – have them fixed. Maybe reinforced steel would be better?
*Broken floorboards – also need to be fixed.
*Big hole in floor – have this filled in before fixing floorboards. (Could be expensive. If we blame it on earthquake last Tues, will insurance pay?)
*Smashed skylight – needs replacing. Blame this on earthquake, too. Or on gangs (PCP).
Harry nodded with satisfaction. That’d do.
And as for the skeleton, lying impaled in the middle of the room… he’d just leave that here.
With any luck, the librarian would get rid of it for him.
Funds
Head of Fundraising Committee was supposed to be a way to look good on college applications. To demonstrate competence and school spirit.
How hard could it be?
But a very expensive school mascot was eaten, the funds for the marching band were spent entirely on comic books, the swim team’s final meet was cancelled, and the play tickets had to be refunded because of the monkeys.
She herself wasn’t entirely blameless - for some reason she’d spent their savings on a present for Xander Harris. It'd seemed important at the time.
Trisha wished fervently that she’d settled for Yearbook Staff.
Begin Again
They sat glumly on the bare floorboards, too depressed even to eat the pizza Gunn had bought.
They did nothing – because, frankly, there was nothing to do.
Nothing to unpack, except the one crate of books currently serving as a table. No files to reorganise. No clients to rescue. No phone to answer. No money to buy supplies.
So they just sat there, watched the pizza go cold, and waited for the power to be switched on.
Then Cordelia suddenly said, “Well, at least our hair gel expenses are going to be way down,” and they all cracked up laughing.
Concert
Funding Request:
-new violin bow
-new timpani
-ticket refunds for 193 audience members
-advertising costs for new orchestra members
-counselling for remaining orchestra members
Reason For Request:
The two women who jumped into the orchestra pit during last night’s performance.
One started attacking the woodwind section
-violin bow snapped when she stabbed the second flautist with it
-this also made the flautist explode, somehow
The other kicked the lead violinist into the timpani
-this broke the timpani
She then attacked the violinist again
-he seems to have disappeared
Police are making inquiries, so far unsuccessfully.
I’d appreciate a quick response.
So Much Potential
In another world, maybe she would have gone to high school.
She would have been a yearbook nerd, been best friends with the school band’s sax player, and never gotten her homework in on time.
She would have met a guy, her first year of college, with too-long hair and a lopsided smile.
They would have married senior year, and had a son shortly afterwards.
But this world is not that world.
So instead, she’ll die, tonight, right here on the floor, with a cut throat leaking the life out of her.
And that other life will just fade away.
Holiday Season
After the whole Parent-Teacher thing, St Vigeous itself was kind of a letdown.
They had stakes, crossbows, axes, crosses, holy-water, and even something called The Blessed Sword Of Antiron (which wasn’t a sword).
They’d spread out along some normally vamp-heavy streets, ready for action.
And what did they get? Ten vamps.
Ten extremely drunk vamps, staggering along Main Street, singing loud songs about “Good Old Vig and His Minions Four”.
Buffy was pretty disappointed, really.
She came very close to suggesting that they should let them all go, and track them down later when they could get a ‘proper’ fight.
(Misquoted was written for the prompt phrase “I did not say that”. Being slightly insane, I decided to write an Angel drabble, and fill it with Buffy quotes. Kudos and cookies if you manage to identify them all...)
Misquoted
“Got it!”
They dropped what they were doing, and hurried over to the desk.
“You mean you’ve worked out the correct translation? Finally?”
“I have.” Wesley was triumphant. “It’s not Egyptian, it’s Etruscan! Mistaken for Egyptian by the design pattern, but any fool can see it predates their–”
“Great. So, what’s the paragraph about? The struggle between right and wrong?”
“It’s not about right. And it’s not about wrong.”
“Well, what is it about?”
“It’s about power.”
“Well, I’m sort of impressed!”
“It’s a noun, too…”
Angel whispered to Cordelia. “Can you believe the Watchers Council let this guy go?”
Stretching The Truth
Officer Greg Davis had no time for cops who fudged reports. He’d always written everything down, properly detailed.
Until now.
“Incident: Extensive Property Damage, Escaped Prisoners” was giving him some trouble.
1- Destroyed Wall – bricks exploded out by themselves
2- Smashed Windshields – officers thrown into windshields by Suspect One
3- Stolen Patrol Car – stolen by prisoners
4- Escaped Prisoners – got out because of bent cell bars (bent by Suspect Two), and left while we were dealing with Suspect One, who had started flying…
Yeah, right.
Greg picked up his pen, and under “Cause Of Incident”, slowly wrote one word:
Earthquake.
Ruination
Objects, of course, aren’t nearly as important as people.
When there is destruction, everyone remembers the people. Other things are considered important only if people are in close proximity.
Once abandoned, objects are forgotten. Dismissed. They will rust – or rot – and never be thought of.
And yet the morning sun still touches them.
A car wreck, in a forest.
A window pane, cracked across.
Books with words ripped from them.
A robot, lying in pieces on a highway.
Prison bars, extremely bent.
A white top, stained permanently red.
So much destroyed, and yet no-one cares. Or even remembers.
Not today.
Do I Like Shrubs?
She needed a more exciting display, that was the problem.
What with the architects handing out free candy on one side, and the police staging a mock gun fight (hostages and all) on the other, no-one was even looking twice at her flyers.
She tried, though. She decorated her display with brightly coloured overalls, and some tools of the trade. She made posters that said GET DOWN AND DIRTY and PLANT POWER. And she handed out free trowels.
But it was the same every year.
No matter how many students ticked the ‘shrubs’ box, none of them ever showed up.
The Next Morning
You got used to tactfully handling strange objects, as a caretaker.
In just the last five months, items Harry had disposed of included three authentic World-War-1 navy uniforms, a blood-stained carpet, and a lifesize inflatable Mercedes.
And especially in this school, unusual kinds of mess were pretty much the norm.
You repaired broken windows, you replaced burnt classroom furniture, you replastered over axe gouges in the walls, and you didn’t say a word.
This one, though, might be a little difficult to explain.
Actually, more than a little difficult.
Harry stood there for a few minutes, quietly taking in the situation.
Then he pulled out his notepad.
*Broken banister rails – have them fixed. Maybe reinforced steel would be better?
*Broken floorboards – also need to be fixed.
*Big hole in floor – have this filled in before fixing floorboards. (Could be expensive. If we blame it on earthquake last Tues, will insurance pay?)
*Smashed skylight – needs replacing. Blame this on earthquake, too. Or on gangs (PCP).
Harry nodded with satisfaction. That’d do.
And as for the skeleton, lying impaled in the middle of the room… he’d just leave that here.
With any luck, the librarian would get rid of it for him.
Funds
Head of Fundraising Committee was supposed to be a way to look good on college applications. To demonstrate competence and school spirit.
How hard could it be?
But a very expensive school mascot was eaten, the funds for the marching band were spent entirely on comic books, the swim team’s final meet was cancelled, and the play tickets had to be refunded because of the monkeys.
She herself wasn’t entirely blameless - for some reason she’d spent their savings on a present for Xander Harris. It'd seemed important at the time.
Trisha wished fervently that she’d settled for Yearbook Staff.
Begin Again
They sat glumly on the bare floorboards, too depressed even to eat the pizza Gunn had bought.
They did nothing – because, frankly, there was nothing to do.
Nothing to unpack, except the one crate of books currently serving as a table. No files to reorganise. No clients to rescue. No phone to answer. No money to buy supplies.
So they just sat there, watched the pizza go cold, and waited for the power to be switched on.
Then Cordelia suddenly said, “Well, at least our hair gel expenses are going to be way down,” and they all cracked up laughing.
Concert
Funding Request:
-new violin bow
-new timpani
-ticket refunds for 193 audience members
-advertising costs for new orchestra members
-counselling for remaining orchestra members
Reason For Request:
The two women who jumped into the orchestra pit during last night’s performance.
One started attacking the woodwind section
-violin bow snapped when she stabbed the second flautist with it
-this also made the flautist explode, somehow
The other kicked the lead violinist into the timpani
-this broke the timpani
She then attacked the violinist again
-he seems to have disappeared
Police are making inquiries, so far unsuccessfully.
I’d appreciate a quick response.
So Much Potential
In another world, maybe she would have gone to high school.
She would have been a yearbook nerd, been best friends with the school band’s sax player, and never gotten her homework in on time.
She would have met a guy, her first year of college, with too-long hair and a lopsided smile.
They would have married senior year, and had a son shortly afterwards.
But this world is not that world.
So instead, she’ll die, tonight, right here on the floor, with a cut throat leaking the life out of her.
And that other life will just fade away.
Holiday Season
After the whole Parent-Teacher thing, St Vigeous itself was kind of a letdown.
They had stakes, crossbows, axes, crosses, holy-water, and even something called The Blessed Sword Of Antiron (which wasn’t a sword).
They’d spread out along some normally vamp-heavy streets, ready for action.
And what did they get? Ten vamps.
Ten extremely drunk vamps, staggering along Main Street, singing loud songs about “Good Old Vig and His Minions Four”.
Buffy was pretty disappointed, really.
She came very close to suggesting that they should let them all go, and track them down later when they could get a ‘proper’ fight.
(Misquoted was written for the prompt phrase “I did not say that”. Being slightly insane, I decided to write an Angel drabble, and fill it with Buffy quotes. Kudos and cookies if you manage to identify them all...)
Misquoted
“Got it!”
They dropped what they were doing, and hurried over to the desk.
“You mean you’ve worked out the correct translation? Finally?”
“I have.” Wesley was triumphant. “It’s not Egyptian, it’s Etruscan! Mistaken for Egyptian by the design pattern, but any fool can see it predates their–”
“Great. So, what’s the paragraph about? The struggle between right and wrong?”
“It’s not about right. And it’s not about wrong.”
“Well, what is it about?”
“It’s about power.”
“Well, I’m sort of impressed!”
“It’s a noun, too…”
Angel whispered to Cordelia. “Can you believe the Watchers Council let this guy go?”
Stretching The Truth
Officer Greg Davis had no time for cops who fudged reports. He’d always written everything down, properly detailed.
Until now.
“Incident: Extensive Property Damage, Escaped Prisoners” was giving him some trouble.
1- Destroyed Wall – bricks exploded out by themselves
2- Smashed Windshields – officers thrown into windshields by Suspect One
3- Stolen Patrol Car – stolen by prisoners
4- Escaped Prisoners – got out because of bent cell bars (bent by Suspect Two), and left while we were dealing with Suspect One, who had started flying…
Yeah, right.
Greg picked up his pen, and under “Cause Of Incident”, slowly wrote one word:
Earthquake.
Ruination
Objects, of course, aren’t nearly as important as people.
When there is destruction, everyone remembers the people. Other things are considered important only if people are in close proximity.
Once abandoned, objects are forgotten. Dismissed. They will rust – or rot – and never be thought of.
And yet the morning sun still touches them.
A car wreck, in a forest.
A window pane, cracked across.
Books with words ripped from them.
A robot, lying in pieces on a highway.
Prison bars, extremely bent.
A white top, stained permanently red.
So much destroyed, and yet no-one cares. Or even remembers.
Not today.
no subject
Date: 2012-04-26 09:53 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-04-27 05:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-27 08:18 pm (UTC)