5 More Great Drabbles
Oct. 30th, 2020 10:36 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
In no particular order :...
Grave by
sparrow2000
Grave
In his mind the stone is granite.
Smooth, polished, grey. Flecks of pink and black.
The lettering is white, plain, to the point;
A name, date of birth.
Words like ‘friend’, or ‘brother’ depending on his mood.
The 'Rest in Peace' is both hope and promise.
There are two pebbles balanced on the top, one jet, one sandstone.
Black and red guardians of history and loss.
The flowers in the holder are forget-me-nots.
Of course they are.
If Jesse had a grave, it might look like this.
Xander holds it in his head.
Makes it real.
He visits every day.
https://sparrow2000.livejournal.com/184649.html
Customer Service by
feliciacraft.
Too big for the sink. Luckily, she’d come prepared. Anya grabbed the chainsaw.
“What in the world are you doing?” Giles bellowed.
Human expressions were so tricky sometimes. Case in point, Giles looked furious, but why?
“I'm preparing a sale, obviously. Serving our customer base. Paying your rent.”
Giles edged closer, then jerked away, covering his nose and mouth in — disgust — Anya ventured a guess.
“Good Lord! Is that a Kungai demon? In my kitchen?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Anya patted the Tak horn through her steel-reinforced glove. “The whole demon’s eight-foot tall, five hundred pounds. This is just the head.”
https://feliciacraft.livejournal.com/57317.html
All That Glitters by
xspike4evax
What was wrong with him?
Spike has asked himself that same question countless times over the last one hundred and twenty six years.
Why did he make such bad decisions?
Why couldn't he control his heart?
Why did his reach always exceed his bloody grasp?
As far back as Spike could remember he'd only ever wanted one thing; someone to love who loved him back.
He'd finally gotten it with Drusilla, his beautiful, delicious dark Goddess. He soon discovered everything wasn't as it appeared on the surface. He wasn't her first choice and she didn't love him as completely as he loved her.
Then he'd only gone and fallen in love with the bloody Slayer of all people. She never looked at him, didn't want him. Until suddenly, one day she did and Spike had thought everything was going to work out for him for once. He had his new Ideal in his arms, in his bed. Even then Buffy still didn't actually want him, didn't love him.
As it turned out, with both Drusilla and Buffy, when he scratched the surface Spike discovered his glittering golden prize was made of sodding bronze.
https://xspike4evax.livejournal.com/101691.html
New Job Frustrations by
quaggy_mire
It wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he found out he was to be posted to the Hellmouth. Becoming the epitome of the tweedy British stereotype. Hiding all his academic degrees that a librarian hired by the Californian public school system just wouldn’t have. He would even have to drive an old banger of a car to better fit the image.
He was leaving behind London, a job he loved at the British Museum and the promise of starting something up again with Olivia.
All for a Slayer he knew nothing about. She had better be worth it.
https://giles-shorts.livejournal.com/101358.html
Thought Crime by
shapinglight
The third time he collapses clutching his head, blood pouring from his nose, she considers what it would be like if he died.
Mostly, she's pretty sure he won't. Not while he still owes her. Not while she still needs him.
She'll find a way to get the chip out and save him. She's Buffy. It's what she does.
But the part of her that's exhausted by its duty of care (not just for him), that's near the end of its tether, that's so over the endless, endless drama, can't help having just a tiny little spring in its step.
https://sb-fag-ends.livejournal.com/482891.html
The thought that counts by
lilachigh
Valentine’s Day! Although no one had ever sent him a card in any reality, Richard Wilkins III, born romantic, adored the whole idea. Blood red roses, Cupids with arrows, cards with wonderful warm declarations of love. He even liked the jokey ones with cartoon characters. But not the vulgar kind with rude words. There were limits. And it was so tempting to have a little harmless fun with your enemies. His card to Buffy Summers was a masterpiece of which he was justly proud - the froth of lace, the red silk, the rose petals, the real bleeding heart stapled inside.
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/2953517.html
Grave by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Grave
In his mind the stone is granite.
Smooth, polished, grey. Flecks of pink and black.
The lettering is white, plain, to the point;
A name, date of birth.
Words like ‘friend’, or ‘brother’ depending on his mood.
The 'Rest in Peace' is both hope and promise.
There are two pebbles balanced on the top, one jet, one sandstone.
Black and red guardians of history and loss.
The flowers in the holder are forget-me-nots.
Of course they are.
If Jesse had a grave, it might look like this.
Xander holds it in his head.
Makes it real.
He visits every day.
https://sparrow2000.livejournal.com/184649.html
Customer Service by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Too big for the sink. Luckily, she’d come prepared. Anya grabbed the chainsaw.
“What in the world are you doing?” Giles bellowed.
Human expressions were so tricky sometimes. Case in point, Giles looked furious, but why?
“I'm preparing a sale, obviously. Serving our customer base. Paying your rent.”
Giles edged closer, then jerked away, covering his nose and mouth in — disgust — Anya ventured a guess.
“Good Lord! Is that a Kungai demon? In my kitchen?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Anya patted the Tak horn through her steel-reinforced glove. “The whole demon’s eight-foot tall, five hundred pounds. This is just the head.”
https://feliciacraft.livejournal.com/57317.html
All That Glitters by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
What was wrong with him?
Spike has asked himself that same question countless times over the last one hundred and twenty six years.
Why did he make such bad decisions?
Why couldn't he control his heart?
Why did his reach always exceed his bloody grasp?
As far back as Spike could remember he'd only ever wanted one thing; someone to love who loved him back.
He'd finally gotten it with Drusilla, his beautiful, delicious dark Goddess. He soon discovered everything wasn't as it appeared on the surface. He wasn't her first choice and she didn't love him as completely as he loved her.
Then he'd only gone and fallen in love with the bloody Slayer of all people. She never looked at him, didn't want him. Until suddenly, one day she did and Spike had thought everything was going to work out for him for once. He had his new Ideal in his arms, in his bed. Even then Buffy still didn't actually want him, didn't love him.
As it turned out, with both Drusilla and Buffy, when he scratched the surface Spike discovered his glittering golden prize was made of sodding bronze.
https://xspike4evax.livejournal.com/101691.html
New Job Frustrations by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
It wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he found out he was to be posted to the Hellmouth. Becoming the epitome of the tweedy British stereotype. Hiding all his academic degrees that a librarian hired by the Californian public school system just wouldn’t have. He would even have to drive an old banger of a car to better fit the image.
He was leaving behind London, a job he loved at the British Museum and the promise of starting something up again with Olivia.
All for a Slayer he knew nothing about. She had better be worth it.
https://giles-shorts.livejournal.com/101358.html
Thought Crime by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
The third time he collapses clutching his head, blood pouring from his nose, she considers what it would be like if he died.
Mostly, she's pretty sure he won't. Not while he still owes her. Not while she still needs him.
She'll find a way to get the chip out and save him. She's Buffy. It's what she does.
But the part of her that's exhausted by its duty of care (not just for him), that's near the end of its tether, that's so over the endless, endless drama, can't help having just a tiny little spring in its step.
https://sb-fag-ends.livejournal.com/482891.html
The thought that counts by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Valentine’s Day! Although no one had ever sent him a card in any reality, Richard Wilkins III, born romantic, adored the whole idea. Blood red roses, Cupids with arrows, cards with wonderful warm declarations of love. He even liked the jokey ones with cartoon characters. But not the vulgar kind with rude words. There were limits. And it was so tempting to have a little harmless fun with your enemies. His card to Buffy Summers was a masterpiece of which he was justly proud - the froth of lace, the red silk, the rose petals, the real bleeding heart stapled inside.
https://open-on-sunday.livejournal.com/2953517.html