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Summary: Buffy resisted the urge to grind her teeth. Grinding teeth was bad. Her dentist had said so the last time she saw him.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Games > FantasysouldrivenFR131743061,05624 Dec 1124 Dec 11Yes
Author’s note: Okay, I just HAD to write this. Seriously. Could not abandon idea. Wanted to do Surprise crossover but couldn't find the option. :-/ Oh well.


Buffy resisted the urge to grind her teeth. Grinding teeth was bad. Her dentist said so the last time she saw him, well over a year ago. She kind of regrets not seeing him since. He was a nice dentist, a little too boy with his toys concerning his dentistry equipment, but funny. And this dimension so did not have good hygiene policies. Hell, their beds were more like piles of furs than actual beds. Which were actually kind of comfy but sooo not the point.

No, the point was Buffy was trying not to grind her teeth because she was getting really sick and tired of all the short comments. Oh she could tell most people were not trying to be insulting but, she was sensitive about these things! Everywhere she went, and Buffy meant everywhere, there was always someone ready to make a comment about her height or lack thereof. Her friends, her poor loyal and undeserving friends were starting to flinch away from her every time someone opened their mouth and inserted their height-comment foot in it. They should not be scared of her just because her nerves were growing a little raw.

Her height should not even be that big of a deal anyways. She was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Her name and her actions should be what mattered and not how short she was. Buffy liked that about this world, not having to hide what she was chosen to do. In fact, as her name spread people were happy when she showed up because she meant their monster problems were about to end. A lot of various groups wanted her as a member simply because of who she was.

So why, WHY, did someone always have to talk about her height!?

Buffy glared up at the giant of man that seemed to be made out of muscles and knew, without even needing to think about it, that she could kick his ass without breaking a sweat. Just as she knew the moment contempt entered his eyes she was going to wipe the floor with him, Jarl’s favored son be damned.

“You are the vampire slayer we have heard so much about? Bah! I could snap you like twig with one hand. How can a puny girl such as you terrify monsters so? What? Do you use magic?”

Lydia took one look at her face, sighed, and backed a safe distance away.

Faster than most people could follow he was on the ground with a bloody nose and one arm twisted around his back and Buffy’s shoe rested on his delicate neck. She ignored the uproar she was causing knowing Lydia, her ever loyal housecarl, would either smooth things over or watch her back as things got ugly.

“Let me set some facts straight. I. AM. NOT. A. NORD. I am not an Imperial or a Brenton. I’m a Californian. I am not short. You could not snap me like a twig with one hand because you wouldn’t be face down in the dirt at my mercy right now if you could. Yes, monsters are scared of me because I kill them and I do a damn fine job of it. I am acknowledged in more than one region as a Thane on BOTH sides of the war and WILL NOT betray trusts given by choosing a side. And magic? You Nords act like it’s for the weak because you don’t want to acknowledge someone with enough magical firepower could kick your ass before I could even bloody your nose. So save your racist, pigheaded comments for someone who will tolerate them better than me,” Buffy spat, her rage disappearing as she ranted. With a tired sigh, Buffy released the unlucky man and helped him to his feet.

Looking around she could see the only person happy with her was the dishonored son. Everyone else native to Riften looked pissed and Lydia looked resigned.

“Really my thane, must you fight anyone that insults you?” Lydia pleaded.

Buffy frowned and scrunched up her nose with distaste at the accusation. Then thought about it and admitted that it was kind of true. Pouting, she crossed her arms and started to sulk; ruining whatever badass dangerous female warrior image she just created.

“He started it.”

At least the short-lived fight, if it could be called that, put an end to all the short comments.


Disclaimer: Yeah, don’t own Skyrim or Buffy.

The End

You have reached the end of "Grind". This story is complete.

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