Fluffy, Pink Tutu
Dec. 2nd, 2011 12:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misseDisclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Harry Potter
Notes: Written for 365 Drabbles, Prompt - First Person
I just stood there. Stunned. Utterly bloody stunned. I've lived in the Muggle world, and I've lived in the Wizarding world, and I don't think I've ever seen, heard, or even imagined anything so bizarrely insane as what we were looking at this very moment.
Voldemort, wearing a pink, fluffy tutu, dancing about, singing, 'I'm a Little Teapot.'
And that twang you just heard was my brain breaking.
And look! We have company. A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead. The brunette looked like she was about to piss her (gulp!) skin-tight(!) leather pants, the blonde looked a little constipated, and the redhead was blushing fit to match her hair. Wonder if she's any relation to the Weasleys?
“Giles is going to have a fit!” the blonde muttered.
“Oh Goddess,” the redhead breathed. “I have no idea what happened. It was supposed to render our big bad harmless, but I was thinking something like Gr'nthor's arm's falling off, or something like that. I have no idea who this is, or how this happened.”
The brunette appeared to have stopped laughing long enough, because she then said, “Don't think these people are going to have a fit, Red. You might need to wake them up, though.”
I shook myself, and walked forward, holding out my hand. “I'm Harry,” I said, and if my voice was a little shaky, Voldemort was wearing a tutu! A pink, fluffy tutu!
The blonde shook my hand, a bright, practised grin in place. “Harry, hi. Is this, by any chance, your big bad?”
“Uh, yeah,” I nodded. “He was trying to take over the, um, Wizarding world.”
The blonde looked at me shrewdly. “Were there prophecies involved?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I nodded again.
The brunette sobered, and made a face. “Ah, fuck,” she grumbled. “I guess we should be glad Xan isn't here.”
The other two exchanged horrified glances at the thought, and nodded. The blonde then looked at the sword in her hand, and, taking a look at it myself, I realised it was enchanted. “So,” the blonde said, “you need help, uh, getting rid of him?”
“Like, slaying with extreme prejudice?” the brunette asked hopefully.
I waved a hand in Voldemort's (a pink, fluffy, bloody tutu!) direction. “Go for it,” I offered.
The blonde squinted at Voldemort (a tutu! for Heaven's sake) then moved forward quickly. She raised her arm, made her calculations, and make a quick swipe. Voldemort's head went one way, and his body went the other, and I think we all felt the magic sweep over the place as all his horcruxes were disempowered. I smiled slightly. There was no coming back for him now.
The blonde nodded firmly, and cleaned her sword. “Right. Baddie slayed, now it's time to party.”
The brunette nodded in agreement. “Scooby motto: we came, we slayed, we partied.”
The redhead chewed her lip. “Well, I guess it will keep me away from Giles for a little longer.” She looked at the other two. “Will you make sure I'm drunk before we go home?”
The brunette slung her arm around the redhead's shoulder. “Don't worry, Red. I'll make sure you're well and truly pissed before we go home. Jeeves can yell all he wants, and you'll be feeling no pain.”
The redhead smiled brightly. “And we can always tell him it could have been worse: we could have brought Xander!”
The blonde shook her head. “There's always a bright side. So,” she went on, turning to me, “where do we go for the post-slayage party?”
I blinked. I shrugged. I had a feeling that, when it came to these three American women, you just went with the flow, Hero of the Wizarding World, or not. “Sure. I know a place around here.”
I wonder if I could meet this Xander they were on about?
~~~~~
A/N: I have amusewithaview (Twisting the Hellmouth) to thank for the description of Voldemort. I was reading a post of hers, and she used that as a comment. I read it, and just had to write something.
Notes: Written for 365 Drabbles, Prompt - First Person
I just stood there. Stunned. Utterly bloody stunned. I've lived in the Muggle world, and I've lived in the Wizarding world, and I don't think I've ever seen, heard, or even imagined anything so bizarrely insane as what we were looking at this very moment.
Voldemort, wearing a pink, fluffy tutu, dancing about, singing, 'I'm a Little Teapot.'
And that twang you just heard was my brain breaking.
And look! We have company. A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead. The brunette looked like she was about to piss her (gulp!) skin-tight(!) leather pants, the blonde looked a little constipated, and the redhead was blushing fit to match her hair. Wonder if she's any relation to the Weasleys?
“Giles is going to have a fit!” the blonde muttered.
“Oh Goddess,” the redhead breathed. “I have no idea what happened. It was supposed to render our big bad harmless, but I was thinking something like Gr'nthor's arm's falling off, or something like that. I have no idea who this is, or how this happened.”
The brunette appeared to have stopped laughing long enough, because she then said, “Don't think these people are going to have a fit, Red. You might need to wake them up, though.”
I shook myself, and walked forward, holding out my hand. “I'm Harry,” I said, and if my voice was a little shaky, Voldemort was wearing a tutu! A pink, fluffy tutu!
The blonde shook my hand, a bright, practised grin in place. “Harry, hi. Is this, by any chance, your big bad?”
“Uh, yeah,” I nodded. “He was trying to take over the, um, Wizarding world.”
The blonde looked at me shrewdly. “Were there prophecies involved?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I nodded again.
The brunette sobered, and made a face. “Ah, fuck,” she grumbled. “I guess we should be glad Xan isn't here.”
The other two exchanged horrified glances at the thought, and nodded. The blonde then looked at the sword in her hand, and, taking a look at it myself, I realised it was enchanted. “So,” the blonde said, “you need help, uh, getting rid of him?”
“Like, slaying with extreme prejudice?” the brunette asked hopefully.
I waved a hand in Voldemort's (a pink, fluffy, bloody tutu!) direction. “Go for it,” I offered.
The blonde squinted at Voldemort (a tutu! for Heaven's sake) then moved forward quickly. She raised her arm, made her calculations, and make a quick swipe. Voldemort's head went one way, and his body went the other, and I think we all felt the magic sweep over the place as all his horcruxes were disempowered. I smiled slightly. There was no coming back for him now.
The blonde nodded firmly, and cleaned her sword. “Right. Baddie slayed, now it's time to party.”
The brunette nodded in agreement. “Scooby motto: we came, we slayed, we partied.”
The redhead chewed her lip. “Well, I guess it will keep me away from Giles for a little longer.” She looked at the other two. “Will you make sure I'm drunk before we go home?”
The brunette slung her arm around the redhead's shoulder. “Don't worry, Red. I'll make sure you're well and truly pissed before we go home. Jeeves can yell all he wants, and you'll be feeling no pain.”
The redhead smiled brightly. “And we can always tell him it could have been worse: we could have brought Xander!”
The blonde shook her head. “There's always a bright side. So,” she went on, turning to me, “where do we go for the post-slayage party?”
I blinked. I shrugged. I had a feeling that, when it came to these three American women, you just went with the flow, Hero of the Wizarding World, or not. “Sure. I know a place around here.”
I wonder if I could meet this Xander they were on about?
A/N: I have amusewithaview (Twisting the Hellmouth) to thank for the description of Voldemort. I was reading a post of hers, and she used that as a comment. I read it, and just had to write something.