And Now for Something Completely Different
Fandoms: Buffy/HP
Canon Compliancy: Through Buffy season 8, issue 4; post-DH
Paring: Willow/Luna
Rating: G
Genre: Humor
Word Count: ~850 words
Status: Complete
Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.
Summary: A late birthday fic for
mundungus42, who asked for Willow/Luna, causing this to occur inside my whimsical brainpan. Nods to Doug Adams and Monty Python (inspired by
beer_good_foamy’s recent Buffy/Holy Grail icons, even though I used Flying Circus).
Willow sighed and leaned back against the lone tree that Sorcha had excitedly told her was a larch. On the top of a hill just out of sight of the castle, Scotland sure seemed … peaceful after the colorful whirl that had defined life in Rio.
Even if a bit slow-paced, it did have one thing to recommend it - no Kennedy. I so need to date a woman who knows how to relax next time, Willow thought. Someone not hyper. I mean, I’m supposed to be the hyper one.
She had almost dozed off, the fingers of the one hand toying with a small conifer cone slowing to a hypnotic pace, when the crashing of someone or something forcing its way through underbrush just behind her startled her from her reverie. Wait a minute, she thought. Underbrush? Here, in a deforested section of the Highlands?
Turning proved her point - not even heather grew on this hill. So what could …
‘What’ turned out to be a blond woman dressed like a caricature of 1950s Brits on safari - every single thing she wore from her jodhpurs to her safari hat the exact shade of tan designed to blend well with the African bush. It provided no such camouflage as she crested a hill in peat-green Scotland.
Gaining her feet, Willow saw the other woman’s lips move, but she could understand nothing because, even though the blond now stood perfectly still, the noisy racket continued.
“What?” Willow yelled, miming covering her ears.
Lips moving again, the woman stuck her hand in her pocket, stirring it around in the voluminous fabric of the puffed thigh area. The din disappeared to be replaced by a somewhat ethereal voice. “I asked if you’d seen a Bugblatter Beast of Traal.”
“A what? Um, no … I don’t think so. What does one of these … these bug thingies look like?”
“Hmmm?” Clear blue eyes stopped scanning the open countryside to look directly at Willow. “Oh, I’m not sure … except that they have lovely multi-colored eyes. They’re very rare, you know, and somewhat strange.”
I like strange, Willow thought as the woman tucked a puff of blond hair under the brim of her hat and offered Willow a small smile.
“I’m Luna.”
“Willow.” Stepping forward, she extended her right hand before saying rapidly, “I mean, my name. I’m Willow - not the tree, which is a larch.” She gestured towards it awkwardly with her left hand, her body suddenly ungainly.
Luna’s hand fit well within Willow’s, her grip firmer than expected, calluses adding interesting texture as skin slid on skin.
“A European Larch in Scotland? That’s wonderful and strange too.” The small smile played over her lips again. “Just like finding an American Willow here.”
Feeling her cheeks heat slightly, Willow noticed she’d just given Luna’s hand an extra squeeze, so she let go quickly. “So, um … the noise?”
“Oh, yes. Well, the Bugblatter Beast of Traal is considered dangerous by most, but I think it’s merely misunderstood. I theorize that it eats people because they startle it, so I’m making certain it knows I’m coming and isn’t scared. Honestly, calling a poor creature ‘Ravenous’ is only going to set up negative preconceptions, wouldn’t you say?”
“Er, sure.”
“I had quite a good lead too. Why there I was, sitting in a pub having lunch, and the whole story of it came on over the wireless.”
“And the announcer said it was here.”
“Not exactly, no. In fact,” she broke off, her brow creasing, “this Ford fellow who was doing most of the talking almost made it sound like it wasn’t from Earth.” Luna shook her head, giving a soft laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
Willow smiled distractedly, thinking, Funny, unless you know that there are other dimensions with all kinds of demonage. “So you heard ‘not of this Earth’ and thought Western Highlands.”
“No … I sensed something here. And even if it’s not the Bugblatter, I’m right that something strange is going on - there is the larch after all.” The blond walked over and patted the trunk.
Goddess, what is it about the stupid tree that everyone keeps telling me about it?
As if reading her mind, Luna added, “This kind dislikes wet ground.” She gestured at the grass covered turf. “It’s dry right now because it’s the middle of summer, but for most of the year, this area is extremely boggy.”
“So we better take advantage of it,” Willow said, sinking to sit under the conifer’s branches.
“Exactly.” Settling close, Luna took off her hat and sighed contentedly as she relaxed against the trunk.
Their shoulders brushed, and Willow covered the nervous leap of her heart by asking, “So you think it was the tree you sensed?”
“Oh, no. The larch is special, but it’s not …” Her hands rose to describe a beautiful yet indefinable shape in the air. “It’s not … magical.” She turned to Willow, smile in place. “Perhaps it was another kind of tree.”
Swallowing down the thickness in her throat, Willow returned the smile.
AN: The phrase “and now for something completely different” was sometimes used on Flying Circus in between (or during the middle of) sketches before cutting away to a photo of a tree, “The Larch.” The fact that it had no meaning was the meaning. Luna heard one of the old radio shows of Hitchhiker’s, which existed even before the books. For the Bugblatter: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Races_and_species_in_The_Hitchhiker%27s_Guide_to_the_Galaxy#Ravenous_Bugblatter_Beast_of_Traal
Canon Compliancy: Through Buffy season 8, issue 4; post-DH
Paring: Willow/Luna
Rating: G
Genre: Humor
Word Count: ~850 words
Status: Complete
Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.
Summary: A late birthday fic for
mundungus42, who asked for Willow/Luna, causing this to occur inside my whimsical brainpan. Nods to Doug Adams and Monty Python (inspired by
beer_good_foamy’s recent Buffy/Holy Grail icons, even though I used Flying Circus).
Willow sighed and leaned back against the lone tree that Sorcha had excitedly told her was a larch. On the top of a hill just out of sight of the castle, Scotland sure seemed … peaceful after the colorful whirl that had defined life in Rio.
Even if a bit slow-paced, it did have one thing to recommend it - no Kennedy. I so need to date a woman who knows how to relax next time, Willow thought. Someone not hyper. I mean, I’m supposed to be the hyper one.
She had almost dozed off, the fingers of the one hand toying with a small conifer cone slowing to a hypnotic pace, when the crashing of someone or something forcing its way through underbrush just behind her startled her from her reverie. Wait a minute, she thought. Underbrush? Here, in a deforested section of the Highlands?
Turning proved her point - not even heather grew on this hill. So what could …
‘What’ turned out to be a blond woman dressed like a caricature of 1950s Brits on safari - every single thing she wore from her jodhpurs to her safari hat the exact shade of tan designed to blend well with the African bush. It provided no such camouflage as she crested a hill in peat-green Scotland.
Gaining her feet, Willow saw the other woman’s lips move, but she could understand nothing because, even though the blond now stood perfectly still, the noisy racket continued.
“What?” Willow yelled, miming covering her ears.
Lips moving again, the woman stuck her hand in her pocket, stirring it around in the voluminous fabric of the puffed thigh area. The din disappeared to be replaced by a somewhat ethereal voice. “I asked if you’d seen a Bugblatter Beast of Traal.”
“A what? Um, no … I don’t think so. What does one of these … these bug thingies look like?”
“Hmmm?” Clear blue eyes stopped scanning the open countryside to look directly at Willow. “Oh, I’m not sure … except that they have lovely multi-colored eyes. They’re very rare, you know, and somewhat strange.”
I like strange, Willow thought as the woman tucked a puff of blond hair under the brim of her hat and offered Willow a small smile.
“I’m Luna.”
“Willow.” Stepping forward, she extended her right hand before saying rapidly, “I mean, my name. I’m Willow - not the tree, which is a larch.” She gestured towards it awkwardly with her left hand, her body suddenly ungainly.
Luna’s hand fit well within Willow’s, her grip firmer than expected, calluses adding interesting texture as skin slid on skin.
“A European Larch in Scotland? That’s wonderful and strange too.” The small smile played over her lips again. “Just like finding an American Willow here.”
Feeling her cheeks heat slightly, Willow noticed she’d just given Luna’s hand an extra squeeze, so she let go quickly. “So, um … the noise?”
“Oh, yes. Well, the Bugblatter Beast of Traal is considered dangerous by most, but I think it’s merely misunderstood. I theorize that it eats people because they startle it, so I’m making certain it knows I’m coming and isn’t scared. Honestly, calling a poor creature ‘Ravenous’ is only going to set up negative preconceptions, wouldn’t you say?”
“Er, sure.”
“I had quite a good lead too. Why there I was, sitting in a pub having lunch, and the whole story of it came on over the wireless.”
“And the announcer said it was here.”
“Not exactly, no. In fact,” she broke off, her brow creasing, “this Ford fellow who was doing most of the talking almost made it sound like it wasn’t from Earth.” Luna shook her head, giving a soft laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
Willow smiled distractedly, thinking, Funny, unless you know that there are other dimensions with all kinds of demonage. “So you heard ‘not of this Earth’ and thought Western Highlands.”
“No … I sensed something here. And even if it’s not the Bugblatter, I’m right that something strange is going on - there is the larch after all.” The blond walked over and patted the trunk.
Goddess, what is it about the stupid tree that everyone keeps telling me about it?
As if reading her mind, Luna added, “This kind dislikes wet ground.” She gestured at the grass covered turf. “It’s dry right now because it’s the middle of summer, but for most of the year, this area is extremely boggy.”
“So we better take advantage of it,” Willow said, sinking to sit under the conifer’s branches.
“Exactly.” Settling close, Luna took off her hat and sighed contentedly as she relaxed against the trunk.
Their shoulders brushed, and Willow covered the nervous leap of her heart by asking, “So you think it was the tree you sensed?”
“Oh, no. The larch is special, but it’s not …” Her hands rose to describe a beautiful yet indefinable shape in the air. “It’s not … magical.” She turned to Willow, smile in place. “Perhaps it was another kind of tree.”
Swallowing down the thickness in her throat, Willow returned the smile.
AN: The phrase “and now for something completely different” was sometimes used on Flying Circus in between (or during the middle of) sketches before cutting away to a photo of a tree, “The Larch.” The fact that it had no meaning was the meaning. Luna heard one of the old radio shows of Hitchhiker’s, which existed even before the books. For the Bugblatter: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Races_and_species_in_The_Hitchhiker%27s_Guide_to_the_Galaxy#Ravenous_Bugblatter_Beast_of_Traal