Whoa. ita, that was intense.
Buffista Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies
Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
That was awesome, ita.
Oh, ita. I think I love you. TDZ is a guilty pleasure fandom for me.
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
Dan sat up, scrabbling on the table for the ibuprofen he'd put there last night. He swallowed them dry. There was a rustle of sheets next to him, and he looked over, the night's events coming back to him.
Oz said, "Good morning," and Dan pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I'm way too old for you," he mumbled.
There was a soft chuckle, and Oz pulled Dan's hands away. Dan watched curiously as Oz's face darkened when he saw a bite mark on his palm.
"Did I do this?" he asked softly, dangerously.
Dan nodded yes.
Oooooh.
Damn, the crossover things is producing some unbelievably good drabbles.
I'm missing something ... who's Dan?
Sports Night, sorry. I forgot that everyone else doesn't know what's going on in my head.
I knew it was SportsNight - I kept waiting for Casey to walk in!
I never watched SportsNight. It sounds like my type of thing, though.
Drabble #2: Bad Advice, Buffy/Charmed Crossover, early S7/S5
Phoebe,
My fiancé dumped me the morning of our wedding. It was a blow, but I got over it and resumed my old career.
We've since realized we're still in love, but he says he won't be with me unless I leave my job.
My work is truly a calling, but I want a life with him. What should I do?
- Equivocating in Sunnydale
Phoebe Halliwell gnawed a pen cap until inspiration struck.
Equivocating,
Don't drop your dreams for a man! Keep the career, and see if he'll tag along. And if he won't, someone else will.
Love,
Phoebe
Short but definitely more than 100 words. Just for fun. Buffy/Will and Grace.
“Hey, Poodle!”
“Oh, hey Kar. You look fabulous. New dress?”
“New breasts. Honey, the black leather pants, the pale skin. I don’t get it. What’s going on? What’s happening?”
“Ok remember when I went to that bar like two nights ago and I told you that I met this guy, total Billy Idol wannabe, but cute. . ."
“Hey!”
“Well, it’s true. And that was before I knew you. Anyway. . .”
“Honey, before you go on, you wanna introduce me to the old and the lifeless over there?”
“You knew?”
“Oh, please. Hot bod, obvious dye job, painted nails, penchant for wearing leather, only goes out at night, doesn’t age. Half the homos in New York are vampires. And don’t get me started on the socialites. Ivana. Evil dead tramp!”
“Oh, goody. We want new clothes. Take us to Prada.”
“Hey, Silent Jim! Are you bi?” Spike nodded. “Then I’m buying.”
Here's my attempt at a Drabble: Angel/C.S.I.
Lorne studied the young woman as she sang. She was pretty, but not Vegas pretty—plain hair, plain clothes, no makeup. Was she trying to disappear or trying to stand out? Something in her eyes reminded him of Wes on a bad day.
She walked offstage. “Well?”
“It’s like I told you before, Sara sweetie. Unless you talk to him and tell him what you feel, you’ll never know what he feels.”
Wrong answer. Again. Sara Sidle turned and left without another word.
“That’s not going to end well.” Lorne muttered. His gig at the Tropicana couldn’t start soon enough.