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Hey, look! Trail of the Pbuffalo got nominated in round 6 of [livejournal.com profile] rwsawards. Huge thanks, as always!


Also, two more short pieces for [livejournal.com profile] still_grrr's Jammin' July month. They're kind of depressing, but at least one of them's my first Dollhouse piece. There may even be some sort of thematic unity here, I'm not sure. What can I say, the challenge is to base fics on songs, and most great songs come - in Joss's words - from pain.

Title: Passive
Author: Beer Good ([livejournal.com profile] beer_good_foamy)
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 100
Prompt: 128 – female artists; incorporating lyrics from "He War" by Cat Power.
Fandom/Timeline: Dollhouse, "True Believer"
Characters: Mellie

"Wow, the photograph didn’t really do her justice, did it?"

So this is Caroline. Mellie looks at the girl on the screen; she's beautiful. But of course she is.

She sneaks a peek at Paul, his jaw set in proud determination, then looks back. Don't worry, she tells Caroline. He'll save you. He would kill for you.

On her way out, she catches sight of herself in a mirror. Yep, still just ordinary ol' Mellie to whom nothing tragic or mysterious or atrocious ever happens. No competition for poor brainwashed Caroline who doesn't even know who she is.

Lucky girl.

Title: Spartan
Author: Beer Good ([livejournal.com profile] beer_good_foamy)
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 300
Prompt: 129 – free-for-all; incorporating lyrics from ”Simple Twist Of Fate” by Bob Dylan
Fandom/Timeline: Buffy, s7
Characters/Pairing: Eve (the potential, not the Angel character)
Warning: Canon events.
Summary: A lonely night at a familiar motel.

Spartan

"Next stop, Sunnydale."

Nobody was there to meet Eve when she arrived. It was late, she didn't know the town, and her Watcher hadn't had time to find this "Buffy" woman's adress before she put Eve on the Greyhound out of Atlanta, promising to catch up as soon as she could. At least there was a motel by the bus stop.

The room was bare, hardly furnished at all; a squeaky double bed with a stained mattress, an old TV that didn't look like it had had reception since Clinton was in office, and that was about it. She dumped her bag on the bed and went into the bathroom to wash up.

Looking in the mirror above the cracked sink, she noticed that someone had doodled on the bathroom wall behind her: a heart with a line sticking out of it like half an arrow, and the words SLAYERS RULE. It looked a couple of years old, but it was in ink and clearly they didn't bother repainting the walls here very often. When she looked closer she saw that the paint was a bit cracked right over the heart, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it or something, but it was still perfectly legible. That was a relief, at least; there were more like her, people who knew how to fight... whatever these guys were who were supposedly after her, and at least one of them had been here before. That had to be a good sign, right? Safety in numbers and so on.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. She smiled as she went to open it. "Hey, took y'all long enough to -"

She tried to fight, but there were so many bringers and she was just one girl.
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