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Ficlet Compliation
Various comment memes have been running around fandom lately, so here is a compilation of the various ficlets I've written over the past couple of weeks.
Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Anya, "Belief"
These are the things Anya has faith in:
1.) Revenge.
2.) Money.
3.) The intractability of people.
She doesn't believe that people can grow and change and become greater than the sum of all the weak parts that carry them across the surface of the earth, that when people look at you like they can really see inside, that that makes you more than just the sum of your fleshy meat-bits.
Anya doesn't believe that at all.
Doctor Who, Amy, "What Dreams May Come"
Amy dreamed while she was dead.
She dreamed of stars dying, inverse explosions of light. She dreamed of beaches, sun hot on her skin and sand sticking between her toes.
She ate cake batter while the lights of the TARDIS console whirled about her like a merry-go-round. She leaned back on chilly grass outside of Leadworth and watched the sun blaze blue.
"Rest, Amy," the Doctor pressed his forehead against hers, his hands fever-hot. "I'll see you soon."
She dreamed of trailing at her raggedly doctor's coat-tails, his eyes always on the horizon and his lips never against hers. She dreamed of slowly dying as Mrs Williams while time - irreversible, cruel time – took her youth and her mind.
She heard Rory's voice, steady as the roll of the waves, telling her about first kisses and war and moderately warm Italians.
Amy dreamed of her boys and woke to her own face.
Criminal Minds, the ladies of the BAU, "Armor"
JJ always carries professional-grade foundation and an extra cell phone battery in her purse. After Reid is kidnapped, she adds in two extra clips.
Emily never wears shoes she can't run in and keeps an extra hair elastic in her pocket.
Penelope's armor is less tangible. It's not the hair dye, it's not the bodilicious clothes, it's not even the sexy silken stockings. It's her attitude. It's the way that she flirts with Morgan while her eyes are filled with images of death, it's the way that she cracks wise even when her heart is breaking, it's spending the day helping catch monsters and then spending her free time helping survivors survive.
Lipgloss, bullets, stockings, snark. All weapons against the monsterous bastards out there in the dark.
Community, Annie, "B Minus"
Annie wants everything to much. She tries, she tries so, so hard, and all that her effort gets her is social obscurity and a pill addiction and a 3.99 GPA and then that turned into enrollment at a fourth-rate community college and a B- on her Spanish midterm and suddenly she's got Shirley being the sassy black best friend Annie thought only existed in television and Britta, the cool girl that everyone wants to be or to date goes with her to the mall and asks her opinion on lipsticks and maybe a B- isn't the end of the world after all.
Community, Jeff/Annie, "Campfire"
Annie tilted her notepad closer to the campfire and jotted down another line.
Jeff returned to trying to move his cell phone (on the seat of his locked Lexus) into his hand (outside of his locked Lexus) using only the power of his mind.
Of course, that would still leave him keyless, but he could call for a taxi, which, while ridiculously expensive would get him away from being alone with Annie at Pierce's Labor Day cook-out. He'd spent the summer being so studiously casual, effortlessly (okay, admittedly, there may have been some effort involved) interacting with Annie only in public places or with the rest of their study group.
Annie slapped at her leg, the crack of flesh against flesh ridiculously loud, what with them being in the middle of fucking nowhere.
"Stupid mosquitos," she muttered and wrote another line in the record she was keeping for Shirley. Shirley had bailed on Pierce's cook out when her kids had picked up the chicken pox at their day camp, Britta was still down in Mexico building wells, and Pierce, Abed, and Troy had gone off to film a remake of The Blair Witch Project, which left him alone with Annie.
Alone with Annie, while she huddled in her jacket against the brisk night air while the fire light brushed at her cheeks.
Alone.
With.
Annie.
Abed had totally stolen Jeff's keys to lead to this situation. Jeff had not a shred of reasonable doubt about that.
She started to rub her arms and he succumbed to the inevitable, sitting on the log next to her, tucking her against his side.
Damn Abed and his sense of the dramatic.
Community, Jeff/Annie, "Your Wake-Up Call Is Too Old For You"
Annie was going to maim when she realized (if she realized) that he'd deliberately let her sleep through her Advanced Debate class.
But what was he, an alarm clock? And if she was going to fall asleep on the couch in the journalism office (which was impressive - that couch was miserably uncomfortable - she was probably running super-low on caffeine since the pop machines ran out of diet cola) and cuddle into the cushions with her bare feet tucked against each other and her mouth pursed in an adorable Disney frown, the most interesting thing to happen all day, she certainly couldn't blame him for not waking her up.
Annie's fingers twitched, plucking at the green pleather of the cushions, and Jeff leaned back in his chair, feet on the desk, and considered sliding in next to her, pulling her close.
It was idle speculation; he didn't fit on that couch alone, let alone with an eighteen year old already on it.
Still.
She looked really adorable.
Community, Britta, Abed, and Troy, "We Crashed Her Party"
"Karma Police" was on its sixth replay when Mr Culligan started yowling.
Britta tugged off her headphones.
There were sirens, loud sirens, and when she pulled up the window sash and looked out, she could see an Arab-American and a black kid getting arrested.
"What the hell..." she said, leaning out further. The trees along the sidewalk were covered with strips of black crepe paper and there were what looked like riot shields piled on her doorstep.
Twenty minutes later, after she had batted her eyes and then yelled and managed to convince the police not to arrest Troy and Abed, Abed started soliloquizing while Troy lay on her floor and tried to coax Mr Culligan out from under the couch with bits of smushed bagel.
"I wanted a finale vibe," Abed explained. "But not series finale-finale. I admit I veered too hard in that direction myself, before realizing that a more open-ended 'I like your dress' Buffy-esque last line would suit us better."
Troy gave up, ate the tattered bagel himself. "Yeah, we didn't want you to re-elist in the Peace Corps and be written off for the next few seasons," he agreed.
Britta rolled her eyes, snorted deprecatingly, and pushed the screen of her computer down so that Abed and Troy wouldn't be able to see that she's just been on 'Apply Now' page of the Peace Corps website.
"Yeah, right, Abed," she said, "Like I'm going to drop out of college just because some guy rejected me."
"Awesome," Troy said, rolling on his back and rubbing his tummy. "Because if you weren't around we'd seem a lot less cool."
The Vampire Diaries, Damon/Elena, "Smashed"
It's Elena's twenty-first and Damon don't need to drink to feel dizzy. No, Elena's doing that all by herself, straddling his lap, licking into his mouth.
He tasted salt and tequila on her lips, noticed that it takes her three tries to find the buttons on his shirt, and he kisses her back.
Their lips break apart when Elena gets the giggles. She rocked against him, giddy and drunk, a decent man would set her clothes to rights and get her a glass of water.
If she wanted a decent man or accurate facsimile thereof, she should have crawled into Stefan's lap.
Damon helped her strip off her sweater, running his hands possessively over her body.
She shivered under his touch.
"I think I'm a little drunk," Elena admitted.
"Oh, you're entirely wasted," he agreed, unfastening her pants, reaching inside to touch the damp fabric of her panties, stroking her through the satin. "Do you want me to stop?"
She shook her head mutely.
"I didn't think so," Damon said, fangs descending as he pulled her back onto the cushions of the couch.
True Blood, Jessica/Tommy, "Drink Up Baby"
People don't all taste the same. Jessica thinks the makers of True Blood might know that, but they don't get it. They try and fake it with their A Negative and O Positive and even before she'd ever had real blood in her mouth she knew True Blood was just a cheap imitation.
True Blood didn't taste like cheap perfume and vitriol, didn't struggle like motor oil and greasy meat and it certainly didn't press her mouth harder against his neck while she sucked down moonlight and rage.
"Fuck, you're hot," Tommy said, flipping her onto her back. Her mouth broke away from his skin and his blood splattered across her neck and breasts.
"Really?" Jessica asked, running her hands over his scars, hooking her index fingers in the loops of his worn jeans.
"Really," Tommy repeated, kneeing her thighs apart.
Community, Annie/Abed, "History of Film 201"
Annie spends most of her summer in Abed's dorm room.
She calculated it at one point and even working almost full-time at the Greenwood Mall's gift wrapping counter (minimum wage, about four customers per day, the majority of her work hours filled with texting Shirley and rereading Catch-22 and Smillia's Sense of Snow) most of her time (after work, on the weekends) curled up on Abed's couch watching black and white screwball comedies and classic films that she'd always meant to watch and never had.
It was fun watching movies with Abed (even if he made her watch Lawrence of Arabia three times in a row). The flickering light of the television, the narrative unfolding in front of them - it was restful, logical in a way that nothing else (Jeff not calling her, Britta not answering her calls, Vaugh sending her mp3s about missing her and his new girlfriend) was.
She and Abed started watching everything multiple times. Once to watch it, once to dissect and analyze. At first, Abed was doing most of the talking but by the second week of July Annie was holding her own, arguing about character motivations and camera angles with the best of them. She didn't just talk about movies; Annie found herself talking about Vermont and how her parents still didn't know she was friends with Troy and him and Shirley and that she vagued up the details of Jeff and Britta (she didn't talk about Pierce, but they probably would have approved of him) and staying at Greendale.
Abed just listened with a cocked head, like he was watching a slightly confusing documentary and then said, "I'm glad you stayed."
And Annie caught herself, thought about how often anyone acted like they wanted her around and said, "me too."
She felt asleep once, in the middle of Gangs of New York. She woke up snuggled against Abed with the the DVD menu looping endlessly on the screen.
"Did I fall asleep?" she asked, still drowsy.
"Yep," Abed said, voice factual. "And then you cuddled." (Annie jerked up straight, humiliation flooding her veins.)
"It was a classic Sleep Cute situation," he continued.
"You think I'm cute?" Annie asked and then bit the inside of her cheek.
Abed considered. "Your driven and some-times shrill personality combined with your ability to drastically change your sexual desirability via the removal of a hairpin makes Beautiful All Along a more accurate descriptor."
Annie focused on the important word in that sentence. "You think I'm beautiful?"
Legend of the Seeker, Cara, "Nightmares"
Cara never feels more alive than when she's fighting. It doesn't matter who, it doesn't matter how injured she gets, when she blood is up she feels immortal.
Her nightmares are never about fighting, are never about pain. She wakes up gasping with her head thick from scenes of an ordinary life, where two children look at her with utter trust and soft skirts sway about her legs.
Community, Jeff/Annie, "Bad Metaphors"
When Annie kisses him, it's kind of like getting hit in the back of the head with a baseball bat. He can practically hear the whack as his thoughts tweak, all his skill with predicting people and manipulation tangling up in Annie's taste and the way her fingers grip his neck or clutch at his arms, like she's afraid he's about to jerk away.
Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Anya, "Belief"
These are the things Anya has faith in:
1.) Revenge.
2.) Money.
3.) The intractability of people.
She doesn't believe that people can grow and change and become greater than the sum of all the weak parts that carry them across the surface of the earth, that when people look at you like they can really see inside, that that makes you more than just the sum of your fleshy meat-bits.
Anya doesn't believe that at all.
Doctor Who, Amy, "What Dreams May Come"
Amy dreamed while she was dead.
She dreamed of stars dying, inverse explosions of light. She dreamed of beaches, sun hot on her skin and sand sticking between her toes.
She ate cake batter while the lights of the TARDIS console whirled about her like a merry-go-round. She leaned back on chilly grass outside of Leadworth and watched the sun blaze blue.
"Rest, Amy," the Doctor pressed his forehead against hers, his hands fever-hot. "I'll see you soon."
She dreamed of trailing at her raggedly doctor's coat-tails, his eyes always on the horizon and his lips never against hers. She dreamed of slowly dying as Mrs Williams while time - irreversible, cruel time – took her youth and her mind.
She heard Rory's voice, steady as the roll of the waves, telling her about first kisses and war and moderately warm Italians.
Amy dreamed of her boys and woke to her own face.
Criminal Minds, the ladies of the BAU, "Armor"
JJ always carries professional-grade foundation and an extra cell phone battery in her purse. After Reid is kidnapped, she adds in two extra clips.
Emily never wears shoes she can't run in and keeps an extra hair elastic in her pocket.
Penelope's armor is less tangible. It's not the hair dye, it's not the bodilicious clothes, it's not even the sexy silken stockings. It's her attitude. It's the way that she flirts with Morgan while her eyes are filled with images of death, it's the way that she cracks wise even when her heart is breaking, it's spending the day helping catch monsters and then spending her free time helping survivors survive.
Lipgloss, bullets, stockings, snark. All weapons against the monsterous bastards out there in the dark.
Community, Annie, "B Minus"
Annie wants everything to much. She tries, she tries so, so hard, and all that her effort gets her is social obscurity and a pill addiction and a 3.99 GPA and then that turned into enrollment at a fourth-rate community college and a B- on her Spanish midterm and suddenly she's got Shirley being the sassy black best friend Annie thought only existed in television and Britta, the cool girl that everyone wants to be or to date goes with her to the mall and asks her opinion on lipsticks and maybe a B- isn't the end of the world after all.
Community, Jeff/Annie, "Campfire"
Annie tilted her notepad closer to the campfire and jotted down another line.
Jeff returned to trying to move his cell phone (on the seat of his locked Lexus) into his hand (outside of his locked Lexus) using only the power of his mind.
Of course, that would still leave him keyless, but he could call for a taxi, which, while ridiculously expensive would get him away from being alone with Annie at Pierce's Labor Day cook-out. He'd spent the summer being so studiously casual, effortlessly (okay, admittedly, there may have been some effort involved) interacting with Annie only in public places or with the rest of their study group.
Annie slapped at her leg, the crack of flesh against flesh ridiculously loud, what with them being in the middle of fucking nowhere.
"Stupid mosquitos," she muttered and wrote another line in the record she was keeping for Shirley. Shirley had bailed on Pierce's cook out when her kids had picked up the chicken pox at their day camp, Britta was still down in Mexico building wells, and Pierce, Abed, and Troy had gone off to film a remake of The Blair Witch Project, which left him alone with Annie.
Alone with Annie, while she huddled in her jacket against the brisk night air while the fire light brushed at her cheeks.
Alone.
With.
Annie.
Abed had totally stolen Jeff's keys to lead to this situation. Jeff had not a shred of reasonable doubt about that.
She started to rub her arms and he succumbed to the inevitable, sitting on the log next to her, tucking her against his side.
Damn Abed and his sense of the dramatic.
Community, Jeff/Annie, "Your Wake-Up Call Is Too Old For You"
Annie was going to maim when she realized (if she realized) that he'd deliberately let her sleep through her Advanced Debate class.
But what was he, an alarm clock? And if she was going to fall asleep on the couch in the journalism office (which was impressive - that couch was miserably uncomfortable - she was probably running super-low on caffeine since the pop machines ran out of diet cola) and cuddle into the cushions with her bare feet tucked against each other and her mouth pursed in an adorable Disney frown, the most interesting thing to happen all day, she certainly couldn't blame him for not waking her up.
Annie's fingers twitched, plucking at the green pleather of the cushions, and Jeff leaned back in his chair, feet on the desk, and considered sliding in next to her, pulling her close.
It was idle speculation; he didn't fit on that couch alone, let alone with an eighteen year old already on it.
Still.
She looked really adorable.
Community, Britta, Abed, and Troy, "We Crashed Her Party"
"Karma Police" was on its sixth replay when Mr Culligan started yowling.
Britta tugged off her headphones.
There were sirens, loud sirens, and when she pulled up the window sash and looked out, she could see an Arab-American and a black kid getting arrested.
"What the hell..." she said, leaning out further. The trees along the sidewalk were covered with strips of black crepe paper and there were what looked like riot shields piled on her doorstep.
Twenty minutes later, after she had batted her eyes and then yelled and managed to convince the police not to arrest Troy and Abed, Abed started soliloquizing while Troy lay on her floor and tried to coax Mr Culligan out from under the couch with bits of smushed bagel.
"I wanted a finale vibe," Abed explained. "But not series finale-finale. I admit I veered too hard in that direction myself, before realizing that a more open-ended 'I like your dress' Buffy-esque last line would suit us better."
Troy gave up, ate the tattered bagel himself. "Yeah, we didn't want you to re-elist in the Peace Corps and be written off for the next few seasons," he agreed.
Britta rolled her eyes, snorted deprecatingly, and pushed the screen of her computer down so that Abed and Troy wouldn't be able to see that she's just been on 'Apply Now' page of the Peace Corps website.
"Yeah, right, Abed," she said, "Like I'm going to drop out of college just because some guy rejected me."
"Awesome," Troy said, rolling on his back and rubbing his tummy. "Because if you weren't around we'd seem a lot less cool."
The Vampire Diaries, Damon/Elena, "Smashed"
It's Elena's twenty-first and Damon don't need to drink to feel dizzy. No, Elena's doing that all by herself, straddling his lap, licking into his mouth.
He tasted salt and tequila on her lips, noticed that it takes her three tries to find the buttons on his shirt, and he kisses her back.
Their lips break apart when Elena gets the giggles. She rocked against him, giddy and drunk, a decent man would set her clothes to rights and get her a glass of water.
If she wanted a decent man or accurate facsimile thereof, she should have crawled into Stefan's lap.
Damon helped her strip off her sweater, running his hands possessively over her body.
She shivered under his touch.
"I think I'm a little drunk," Elena admitted.
"Oh, you're entirely wasted," he agreed, unfastening her pants, reaching inside to touch the damp fabric of her panties, stroking her through the satin. "Do you want me to stop?"
She shook her head mutely.
"I didn't think so," Damon said, fangs descending as he pulled her back onto the cushions of the couch.
True Blood, Jessica/Tommy, "Drink Up Baby"
People don't all taste the same. Jessica thinks the makers of True Blood might know that, but they don't get it. They try and fake it with their A Negative and O Positive and even before she'd ever had real blood in her mouth she knew True Blood was just a cheap imitation.
True Blood didn't taste like cheap perfume and vitriol, didn't struggle like motor oil and greasy meat and it certainly didn't press her mouth harder against his neck while she sucked down moonlight and rage.
"Fuck, you're hot," Tommy said, flipping her onto her back. Her mouth broke away from his skin and his blood splattered across her neck and breasts.
"Really?" Jessica asked, running her hands over his scars, hooking her index fingers in the loops of his worn jeans.
"Really," Tommy repeated, kneeing her thighs apart.
Community, Annie/Abed, "History of Film 201"
Annie spends most of her summer in Abed's dorm room.
She calculated it at one point and even working almost full-time at the Greenwood Mall's gift wrapping counter (minimum wage, about four customers per day, the majority of her work hours filled with texting Shirley and rereading Catch-22 and Smillia's Sense of Snow) most of her time (after work, on the weekends) curled up on Abed's couch watching black and white screwball comedies and classic films that she'd always meant to watch and never had.
It was fun watching movies with Abed (even if he made her watch Lawrence of Arabia three times in a row). The flickering light of the television, the narrative unfolding in front of them - it was restful, logical in a way that nothing else (Jeff not calling her, Britta not answering her calls, Vaugh sending her mp3s about missing her and his new girlfriend) was.
She and Abed started watching everything multiple times. Once to watch it, once to dissect and analyze. At first, Abed was doing most of the talking but by the second week of July Annie was holding her own, arguing about character motivations and camera angles with the best of them. She didn't just talk about movies; Annie found herself talking about Vermont and how her parents still didn't know she was friends with Troy and him and Shirley and that she vagued up the details of Jeff and Britta (she didn't talk about Pierce, but they probably would have approved of him) and staying at Greendale.
Abed just listened with a cocked head, like he was watching a slightly confusing documentary and then said, "I'm glad you stayed."
And Annie caught herself, thought about how often anyone acted like they wanted her around and said, "me too."
She felt asleep once, in the middle of Gangs of New York. She woke up snuggled against Abed with the the DVD menu looping endlessly on the screen.
"Did I fall asleep?" she asked, still drowsy.
"Yep," Abed said, voice factual. "And then you cuddled." (Annie jerked up straight, humiliation flooding her veins.)
"It was a classic Sleep Cute situation," he continued.
"You think I'm cute?" Annie asked and then bit the inside of her cheek.
Abed considered. "Your driven and some-times shrill personality combined with your ability to drastically change your sexual desirability via the removal of a hairpin makes Beautiful All Along a more accurate descriptor."
Annie focused on the important word in that sentence. "You think I'm beautiful?"
Legend of the Seeker, Cara, "Nightmares"
Cara never feels more alive than when she's fighting. It doesn't matter who, it doesn't matter how injured she gets, when she blood is up she feels immortal.
Her nightmares are never about fighting, are never about pain. She wakes up gasping with her head thick from scenes of an ordinary life, where two children look at her with utter trust and soft skirts sway about her legs.
Community, Jeff/Annie, "Bad Metaphors"
When Annie kisses him, it's kind of like getting hit in the back of the head with a baseball bat. He can practically hear the whack as his thoughts tweak, all his skill with predicting people and manipulation tangling up in Annie's taste and the way her fingers grip his neck or clutch at his arms, like she's afraid he's about to jerk away.
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They are! I love how very many different pairings work great in Community. Thanks for the specific feedback!
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"Rest, Amy," the Doctor pressed his forehead against hers, his hands fever-hot. "I'll see you soon."
It's gorgeous. But I'm so confused!
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Ooh this makes me swoon. How do you manage to steam my computer screen over in less than 200 words?
It was like the second before orgasm, only stretched out for minutes at a time.
Hawt. After I read Love Is A Blood Sport I couldn't stop. And I'm sooo glad I couldn't.
Elena realized a second after she flicked her tongue over where he'd nipped that that was the wrong reaction but by then it was too late to smack him and have it seem authentic.
Because OF COURSE she can't resist his animal magnetism! And the genuine way Damon just wants to distract her from pain - THIS IS THE DYNAMIC I WANT FOR NEXT SEASON. **crosses fingers**
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Ooh this makes me swoon. How do you manage to steam my computer screen over in less than 200 words?
Well, thank you!
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