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Fandom's Bitch

- the workings of an easily distracted fangirl

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Ficlets! Multi-fandom. 'cause I'm quirky like that. :)
text//busy reading fanfic - martoufmarty
whiskyinmind wrote in fandomsbitca

So last week I asked for prompts to inspire me to get writing again and I've got a bundle ready to post now! A huge thank you to the ever-wonderful smhwpf for hand-holding me through this.

For bastardsnow, who asked for 'Claire Bennet (Heroes) and the colour red'

Disclaimer: Heroes and all associated characters are the property of Tim Kring et al. I'm just playing with them for now.

The water was icy cold over her fingers as she scrubbed salt into the marks on her favourite sweater. Why did she even bother wearing nice things any more? They just got ruined every time she stepped out of the door it seemed.

Still, at least it wasn't arterial blood this time. That had been an absolute bitch to get out.

A strand of hair had fallen over her face and Claire reached up to push it back behind her ear in frustration. As she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the ornate mirror over the sink.

She blinked a little as she realised she barely recognised the face looking back at her.

Had it really only been a couple of months since she had found out she was a freak? Since she'd learned intimately the difference between the bright crimson of blood straight from the heart and the dark purple of spent blood? Since she'd learned that pain could indeed be a great motivator?

Somewhere in the depths of her reflection she thought that just maybe the Claire who didn't know those things would have wanted to know what was happening, would have wanted to know just what was to come. That she would have appreciated the heads up. But no, that Claire would have just laughed and walked away.

"I'm sorry. I wish you could have been normal." She whispered softly and reaching up to touch the mirror, wondering for a second if maybe the words could stretch out and touch the mirror Claire. Maybe she was normal, maybe her reflection had the normal life, maybe she was right at this minute planning the decorations for Homecoming…

Claire laughed bitterly. What was she on? Thinking there could be another version of her living in the mirror. She might be a freak, but that didn't mean she had to be insane as well.

She went back to scrubbing at the bloodstains. Maybe she should just start wearing exclusively red clothes. That might work. At least until the blood dried.

Plus, it was an excuse to hit the mall.

Again, for bastardsnow who also asked for 'Dawn Summers (BtVS) and the colour green'
Disclaimer: Joss is boss.
Notes: Set post-Chosen, probably a couple of years at least.

Beautiful green energy. That's what Tara had seen, that's what the patients in the psych wing had all seen, that's what all the books described the Key as. So why was it that she never saw it herself? Why was it that all she saw was her? And not her as in the Key, but the tall, dark-haired, and still thankfully slim Dawn Summers?

She used the think that when she shut her eyes she would see the swirling green behind her eyelids. Hell, when she first found out about the whole Key thing, she'd kidded herself into seeing that green. Or had she just been kidding herself? Had it been real? And if it had been, then what did it mean now that she didn't see it?

Was she really normal now? Was she just Dawn?

And if she was, then who the hell was Dawn anyway? All her life she'd been defined by other people, she was Buffy's kid sister, she was the tag-along annoyance, she was The Key, she was - for a very brief period - a Potential… well, a potential Potential anyway, she was a trainee Watcher, she was…

She smiled a little. She was just Dawn.

And as she watched the second line form, she added another description to the list. She was going to be someone's mom.

For velvetwhip who asked for 'Willow Rosenberg (BtVS) and the colour purple'

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Notes: post-Season Six. An early draft of this actually had it set during BotN but that segment didn't work, the setting still could though.

For pretty much as long as she could remember, Willow had striven to be the best. Well, striven was probably not the right word really, been driven was more apt. Between er mother's vague attempts at encouragement, and the teachers who would call her a star pupil and push her into advanced programmes, and even at career week when she'd been head-hunted by the shadow people who denied they were from Microsoft. She'd always tried to be better.

And the cynical selfish part she tried to keep buried deep down but which nevertheless spoke to her at 3am on a damp Thursday whispered that she *was* better. Better than everyone else around her, they were like lackeys, there to do her bidding. There to be used, abused, discarded at her pleasure.

After all, she had it in her to destroy the world with barely a thought.

She fought that voice with every fibre of her being, she had tried ignoring it but it only grew stronger and she had found herself starting to believe in it. When she remembered the things she had done - and she did remember them, she could never let herself forget - she heard that voice again.

But sometimes, sometimes the voice was just that little bit louder. When things were bad it would be easy to give in to it. It would be easy to take the power and rule. Not destroy the world, but make it better. To be better.

For tessarin who asked for 'Dawn Summers (BtVS) and the quote "Colorforms? What?"'
Disclaimer: This is Whedon's sandpit, I'm just playing in it for a while.
Notes: Set within a year of the events of Chosen

Dawn rolled her eyes and wished that, just for once, her apparently innate skills with languages weren't restricted to the ones that no one spoke any more. It was all very well being able to read Sumerian - and speak - Sumerian, but how did that help when trying to tell a girl from a tiny village in the Himalayas that she was a Slayer?

She wasn't even sure what language the girl was speaking, what she was sure of was that the blank looks and the polite nods were a good indication that absolutely none of her carefully prepared - and probably over-rehearsed - speech was getting through.

This was a test, she was sure of it; when she'd announced that she was going to go into 'the family business' she'd been a little surprised when everyone had taken it in turns to try to talk her out of it. They needed Watchers, they needed people who could read the books that Giles was managing to find through some of his… shadier contacts, she needed something to do for the rest of her life. It was a perfect fit. So why did they all try to tell her she could do so much more? What more *could* she do other than helping stop apocoli? (She had decided that had to be the plural of apocalypse, and since she was now the resident linguist no one had argued, well, not for long anyway.)

She'd got her way in the end, the memories of being a whiny manipulative kid sister might be manufactured, but she could put them to good use anyway.

Dawn had also pointed out that getting out into the world would be a good idea, and so here she was, at the arse end of the world in a wooden hut that smelled of Yaks and trying to come up with a universal way of getting her point across.

Now she knew how Giles had felt when Chao-ann had shown up, but there was no way she was going to use those gross hand-drawn flashcards, even if they had kinda worked. If by 'worked' you really  meant freaking everyone out.  It would be like being back in Kindergarden - not that she'd ever *really* been in Kindergarden even if she could remember playing with Colorforms…

She grinned and the Slayer in front of her drew back a little at the sudden change in the strange white girl.

The chances of there being Colorforms out here were about the same as the proverbial snowball had of surviving in Hell, but hey, Dawn Summers was nothing if not resourceful. She could make do with what she had. And she'd make sure to pick some up at the airport on the way home.

For engelsteorra who asked for 'Sam Winchester (Supernatural) and the colour pink'
Disclaimer: Kripke owns my soul. As well as these characters.

"Yeah, that'll work." Dean nodded his approval and stepped back to admire his handiwork He grinned and only years of poker playing kept it from being too wide.

Sam favoured him with the glare normally reserved for whatever evil son of a bitch he happened to be facing down at the time. It amused Dean to think that it took so little to piss off his kid brother. He filed the information away for later use - and he would definitely find some way to use it later. Probably when he was a good few miles from the blast radius of course, because he wasn't stupid.

"Hey," He said, using just the right tone of platitude to let Sammy know it was completely false, "Don't blame me, you're the one who said we'd get further if we looked the part."
Another pointed glare and Dean had to fight to keep the laughter down contained.
"Almost suits you, you know? I mean, whodda thought pink would be your colour?"
Finally Sam broke his silence to snarl, "I take it you've got yourself a death wish or something?"
His grin got wider, "No man, I'm serious - I think we've just found the real you here. Remind me when this is over that we need to get you some more pink shirts or something."
"Tell me again why I'm not kicking your ass right now?"
"'Cause we've got a job to do here, Sammy, that's why."
"Explain the 'we' part of this to me, because from where I'm standing it looks like I'm the one doing all the work here. I'm the one wearing this stupid thing, I'm the one going in there, I'm the one who's probably going to be coming face to face with that thing - and in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not really going to be able to take any weapons with me - and I'm going to be the one to get those kids out of that house. And yet you still think 'we' have a job to do?"
"Hell yeah, while you're doing all that I'm going to be reconnoitring." Dean grinned; he knew Sam was just mouthing off right now. Hell, if he'd been the one having to go in then he'd have been bitching about it too. But he'd have known his brother had his back. Just like Sam knew the same.

Sam shook his head a little but there was a wry little smile quirking at the corners of his mouth and Dean knew the argument - such as it was - was done.
"So. We good to go?"
Dean nodded, "Yup, just waiting for you to, y'know, get into character or whatever."
"Bite me."
He grinned again, "Now, see, that's the kind of thing you don't want to be saying to the kids in there 'cause that kinda language'll only get you in trouble."
Sam tilted his head to one side and Dean couldn't hold back the laughter this time. His younger brother rolled his eyes, "Dude, this is just… the minute we're done here - no, the *second* I am so getting you back for this." He walked off in disgust.
"Dream on, Flopsy." Dean called after him

Sam stopped in the middle of the street, turned back and raised his middle finger but Dean had been ready for it. As he saved the resulting picture as the wallpaper of his cell phone he laughed at the crystal clear image of his freak of a brother dressed in a pink bunny rabbit costume flipping him the bird.

For invisionary who asked for 'Kaylee Frye (Firefly) and the quote "You can't take the sky from me"'
Disclaimer: It's all Joss's. I don't own a gorram thing...
Notes: This is set between Objects in Space and the Big Damn Movie.

"But Cap'n, this just ain't fair! Simon's the one who brought this on board and you're not making him kiss the dirt!"
Mal rolled his eyes, "You know as well as I do, li'l Kaylee, that we can't just leave the good doctor lying around being ill where the Alliance is likely to find him and start asking the kind of questions we don't much want 'em asking. No, Doc's staying on board shut away in the empty shuttle so's the rest of us don't catch whatever sickness it is you've got."
Kaylee's eyes lit up, "So shut us both up in there. We can keep each other company and the rest of the crew'll stay healthy and…"
She stopped as Mal's eyebrow arched. "You're supposed to be getting some rest so's you can get better. I put you in there with the Doc, you think either of you will get any kind of rest? No, that's just the start of a whole heap of trouble that I plan to steer well clear of right now. 'Sides, from what I'm told this sickness don't look too pretty, you want him to see you like that?"
Kaylee smiled a little, seemed the only person on board Serenity as couldn't see she had her eyes set on Simon, was Simon himself. He confounded her but it was just a matter of time, she reckoned, and the captain was right, she didn't want to sicken him before she'd had a chance to find the right way in. So to speak.
"But what if Serenity needs me? The capacitator's been playing up lately and the entry couplings need checked out soon or she could lose the primary buffer panel when she hits atmo." Kaylee could hear the whine in her voice, she hated begging like this, but she'd not been away from Serenity for longer than a few hours since she'd signed on. Being stuck planetside when her ship was out in the black, that was just something she couldn't cope with.
Mal reached out and stroked her hair gently, "Baobei, she'll be fine so long's she knows you'll be fine. And the only way you'll be fine is if you let the doctors make you better."
He shook his head, "No, you're staying here, you're going to take your medicine and then we're going to come back and get you so that you can fix those entry couplings. Dong ma?"
She nodded, suddenly tired of arguing the point. "Promise?"
"Promise what?"
"That you'll come back?"

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(Deleted comment)
I'm so glad you liked it! I really enjoyed writing Kaylee, I should do that more often I think! (And yes, her sickness is a result of me having the Dreaded Lurgy (aka a bad cold) right now, well they say life imitates art... did I just call that art? Hee!)

I like my drabble! Thank you! Very interesting take on Willow.



thank you for the prompt!

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