BtVS Triple Drabble: Victorious
Title: Victorious
Fandom: BtVS
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Buffy.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Prophecy Girl.
Summary: Buffy is alive, and the Master is dead; now it’s time to celebrate.
Written For: Challenge 375: Amnesty 62 at fan_flashworks, using Challenge 368: Brush.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BtVS, or the characters.
A/N: Triple drabble.
Buffy’s latest brush with death and defeat had left her looking bedraggled, which sucked. Her hair hung in limp, wet rattails, the new, pretty, and definitely not cheap dress her mom had bought her was damp and quite possibly stained, her makeup was most likely smudged, and she was pretty sure she’d chipped a nail. Being the Slayer was hell on her wardrobe.
But the Master was soundly defeated and about as dead as he could get, just a bunch of bones, and the night was still young. So what if she wasn’t looking her best right now? How many girls could die, save the world, and still look pretty? She was alive, she’d beaten the prophecy, and now a celebration was in order. She didn’t know about anyone else, but she wanted to party. Also, she was really hungry. There’d be food at the dance, wouldn’t there? She was fairly sure there should be.
She might be in trouble with her mom over the state of her dress, and getting a brush through the mess her hair was in wouldn’t be fun, especially if it dried like this, but right now she didn’t much care. She should be dead, but she wasn’t. Her life wasn’t over, she’d gotten a reprieve thanks to her friends, and she didn’t plan on wasting it.
There’d be time enough later to deal with the fallout; until then, she just wanted to have fun and be a normal teenage girl, doing normal teenage things, like going to a dance with her friends and her sort of boyfriend.
If anyone commented on her less than pristine appearance, she’d just ignore them; their opinion didn’t matter. Angel liked her just the way she was, messy hair and all. His opinion was the only one that counted.
The End
Fandom: BtVS
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Buffy.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Prophecy Girl.
Summary: Buffy is alive, and the Master is dead; now it’s time to celebrate.
Written For: Challenge 375: Amnesty 62 at fan_flashworks, using Challenge 368: Brush.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BtVS, or the characters.
A/N: Triple drabble.
Buffy’s latest brush with death and defeat had left her looking bedraggled, which sucked. Her hair hung in limp, wet rattails, the new, pretty, and definitely not cheap dress her mom had bought her was damp and quite possibly stained, her makeup was most likely smudged, and she was pretty sure she’d chipped a nail. Being the Slayer was hell on her wardrobe.
But the Master was soundly defeated and about as dead as he could get, just a bunch of bones, and the night was still young. So what if she wasn’t looking her best right now? How many girls could die, save the world, and still look pretty? She was alive, she’d beaten the prophecy, and now a celebration was in order. She didn’t know about anyone else, but she wanted to party. Also, she was really hungry. There’d be food at the dance, wouldn’t there? She was fairly sure there should be.
She might be in trouble with her mom over the state of her dress, and getting a brush through the mess her hair was in wouldn’t be fun, especially if it dried like this, but right now she didn’t much care. She should be dead, but she wasn’t. Her life wasn’t over, she’d gotten a reprieve thanks to her friends, and she didn’t plan on wasting it.
There’d be time enough later to deal with the fallout; until then, she just wanted to have fun and be a normal teenage girl, doing normal teenage things, like going to a dance with her friends and her sort of boyfriend.
If anyone commented on her less than pristine appearance, she’d just ignore them; their opinion didn’t matter. Angel liked her just the way she was, messy hair and all. His opinion was the only one that counted.
The End