A Writer's Dilemma 1/1, PG-13, Original, Humor

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Okay, this was actually my dad's idea. Don't ask me, but when I ran the idea by him, he went to the grocery store, came back to me later and told me that this had been his idea. Seems Astra wouldn't talk to me, but she was perfectly willing to talk to him.

I don't know why; I'm the one who shouldn't be speaking to her, considering what happened...

Title: A Writer's Dilemma
Chapter: 1 of 1
Prompt: #58 - Straight from the dead guy's mouth for tamingthemuse
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Original (Fluff and humor)
Summary: With no ideas and the deadline approaching, I really needed my muse. Unfortunately for me, Astra had other plans. This is what happened.
Disclaimer: Astra is mine (or I'm hers); the other characters mentioned aren't mine.

Warning: The author (and her father apparently) are on crack. It's the only thing that explains this.

Word count: 1120

Middle of the night, and I was at a dead stand still. No paragraphs, no sentences, not even a frickin' word crossed into my head. I was starting to get anxious. I had to get something out. Anything. Usually I write for pleasure, but I have a duty to it sometimes, too. A deadline. And that deadline was creeping closer, with not a single thought available to put on paper.

Well, computer, really. I don't write out my thoughts on paper these days.

Paper, computer, didn't matter. I was stuck, and my muse was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell had she gone? Fickle bitch that she is. She's helped a lot, though. I thought we'd had an agreement, an understanding of sorts. She helps me write, and she gets to pick on me whenever she feels like it.

It works.

I heard a sudden noise off to my left, and I glanced down at the desk I was seated in front of. I saw tiny little legs sticking out from the other side of my coffee mug, and I heard a giggle. I frowned. My muse doesn't giggle; she smirks or she simply laughs. She does not giggle. “Astra?” I called uncertainly. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy!” was her immediate response. Her voice sounded funny, like a little too high.

I didn't press it. If she was here, I could get some ideas. And maybe, just maybe, get some work done. “Okay Astra; here's the deal. I've got a phrase to work with this time, but I think with all my fandoms I can work it in. It's 'straight from the dead guy's mouth'. My only question is, which fandom? Buffy, Angel, Supernatural...”

“You're bossy,” she said suddenly, and I frowned once more.

“Excuse me?”

“You're bossy,” she repeated, before she giggled again. “And short.”

My frown deepened. “Okay, you're quoting Supernatural. Is that what I should go with?”

“You didn't finish it,” she said, and I could hear the pout in her voice. What the hell...?

Then realization hit, my jaw dropped, and Dean's incredulous phrase became my own. “Are you drunk?”

“THAT'S the one!” Astra cheered, giggling again and scooting around the coffee mug so I could see her. Her short blonde hair was sticking up in every different direction, and there was a sappy grin on her face that I know wouldn't have been there if there hadn't been alcohol involved.

I pinched my eyes shut just in case I was dreaming and then when I opened them, I'd have a sarcastic but sober muse to help me out. I opened my eyes, and Astra greeted me with a belch. It just wasn't my night. “Astra, I need some ideas here.” Maybe she wasn't that drunk. Enough to give me some ideas...?

Astra rolled her eyes and then fell back behind the coffee mug. “Woah; my entire world just rolled with my eyes,” she said, sounding awed, and I tried to hold back my groan.

“Astra? Please?”

“We'll do Buffy,” she said, and I breathed out the sigh I'd been holding. Good. This sounded almost like a plan. I could go with this. My fingers hovered over the keys, waiting.

“Spike gets a dog,” she said, and my fingers froze before flopping back into my lap. “He names it Spike.”

“His own name is Spike,” I pointed out, leaning down to glare at her. She didn't seem to notice or care, which irked me even more. “Why would he name the dog Spike? Aren't there other names he could use?”

“You're right; doesn't work. He'll call her Buffy, and then Buffy comes around and finds out, and then punches his nose.” She threw a punch at midair to demonstrate what Buffy would do, and promptly fell backwards. The giggles started again. “Then she can ask him why he named the dog Buffy, and he'll say it's because she's a bitch. Get it? A female dog's a bitch?”

“Then how do I work the prompt phrase into it?” I asked, not wanting to know what pun she had up her sleeve for that. Nothing could make this worse.

I was wrong. “What prompt phrase?” she asked, blinking up at me.

“I don't have enough caffeine to deal with this,” I moaned. Of all the nights she'd picked to get drunk, why did it have to be tonight?

She pulled herself back up and grinned at me. “No, you don't have enough liquor. I can fix that, easy-peasy.”

“NO,” I said sternly, glaring at her beaming face. “No more alcohol for you, ever. Now come on, be serious!”

“Okay, fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms. That looked more like the pain in the ass muse I usually dealt with. “What's your stupid phrase?”

“'Straight from the dead guy's mouth',” I repeated, hoping beyond hope she'd figure something else out this time. “Like I said, a lot of fandoms open to me. Supernatural, Buffy, Angel, even Firefly for crying out loud.”

“Do 'em all,” she said, her eyes almost as wide as her growing smile. Uh oh. “Have Sam and River have a psychic face-off, and then Sam abandons it to go help Buffy who's getting picked on by Cordelia, and they start making out, but then Dean comes in and tells Sam to get off his girlfriend, and Kaylee falls in love with Dean, and Simon gets upset and tells Dean off but Dean just shoots him, but it's really Sam in disguise and Dean's going to throw himself off a cliff but Spike comes along and professes his undying love for Dean and they start making out...”

Screw the caffeine; there wasn't enough aspirin in the world for this.

“...gets pissed and tells Spike to pick between her or Dean, and Spike picks Buffy, and Dean's going to throw himself off the cliff again except Sam comes back to life because the real Simon saved his life, and then...and then...”

I slowly turned to glance at her. She was blinking as if coming out of a coma, and I really hoped she'd talked herself into such a corner that there wouldn't be a repeat. “And then?” I couldn't help but ask.

“Orgy,” she said, nodding firmly. “Big old orgy.”

“Right. Because that fixes everything.”

Astra grinned. “Really does. You should try it sometime. Does wonders.”

As much as her comment irked me, it was still a relief to hear. My muse was sobering up, and my Astra was back in action. “I think I'll pass. Now seriously, how do we work in the prompt phrase?”

Astra blinked up at me. “What prompt phrase?” she asked.

I laid my head on the desk and groaned.

~Nebula