May I submit a late drabble? you fic infectors, you.
Pictures from home for company in England. She made copies. She's not so far gone she'd cut up originals.
Sharp shears from the sewing drawer. She's surprised they let her near them.
Delicate cuts like betrayal between a red head and a blonde/brunette. Precise cuts like vivisection between a sable head and one that must have owned L'Oreal stock. Careful alignment so that the red and the sable lean against each other and smile happily at the camera, nothing between them, like nothing ever should be.
Giles, too silent, behind her. "Willow, what--"
"Just remembering. When it was just us."
I love the drabble format. My husband, who is geniusdude, made the breathtakingly simple suggestion that in novel troublespots, I ought to use the form to impose a self-discipline of shape and length on the issue I was having. It works.
Love love love drabbles. They honestly do force me to a kind of precision, not only in how I execute a story, but in how I perceive it. Beginning, middle, end and brutally finite.
What's not to love?
Connie, I like that portrait of Willow, but I have a stupid question -- is she cutting two people out of the picture (Buffy and Anya, maybe?) or just Buffy?
I thought it was Anya and Tara and Kennedy?
The upcoming is pretty silly, but I need to think through the whole apprehension thing.
It was late when the detectives returned to the squadroom. Both slightly bedraggled, Frank smelling faintly of garlic and something else nobody could identify, and Tim still looking like the walking wounded whenever he breathed deeply. "Oh, shit." Bayliss mumbled.
The rest of the squad had redecorated their work area in their absence. A rubber bat now hung on a cord above the desk chair and the phone was covered in angelhair cobwebs.Frank opened the desk drawer and was confronted with plastic fangs. "All right!" Pembleton said, "What the hell is this?"
"Just trying to make you feel at home," Munch said. "Now that you are walking on the dark side and all. The squad's too boring for Mulder and Scully."
"And Timmy is walking funny," Bolander said, with mock sadness. "I guess I owe you five bucks, John."
"I am *not* 'walking funny'. I sustained an injury. In the course of an investigation."
"Too much information," Kay Howard said.
"You're just saying that because you lost. Sour grape is not a good color on you." Munch said.
"I didn't bet on that. Tim, swear to God. I did make the cobwebs, though. You wouldn't want me to waste all my Home Ec, would you?"
BtVS/Sandman Crossover Drabble
Lux
It didn't look like a demon bar, although the girl in the Phantom of the Opera style mask wasn’t at all fazed by the sight of a green demon in a purple Armani suit. But the clientele seemed to be human, so perhaps she just assumed he was wearing prosthetics. A person could get away with a lot in La La Land.
Lorne heaved a sigh of relief. Fretting about competition was only going to give him wrinkles.
He ordered a Seabreeze, and it was perfect.
The pianist smiled at him angelically, and started to sing.
Lorne dropped his glass.
Fay, BWAH! I bet Lorne's ears bled.
One thing: it would be "faze", not "phase". Different meanings.
erika, the plastic dangly bat....(gurgling)
The people in the pictures are Tara and Anya. I was thinking of it taking place after "Grave," I guess I should have put a summary in it. I was going to put in a mention of the coven, but my word count wouldn't let me.
Yeah, thanks! So glad you like it.
I really need to read "Sandman" like Fay (almost typed Kay...you know you spend too much time in fiction when...) needs to watcb Homicide.
