DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters, no infriengement intended.
SERIES: Part of the 'Femslash Advocacy Group' series of spoofs.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

By ralst


Gabrielle and Alex fought for control of the gavel as the annual gathering of the B.F.A.G. (Blonde Femslash Advocacy Group) came to order.

"I'm chairing this meeting," Gabrielle insisted, her fingers itching to make use of her trusty sais and cut the pesky lawyer into tiny, little pieces. "I'm the eldest!"

"You chaired last year." The gavel started to show signs of splintering but Alex refused to yield control of the tiny mallet and, once again, be sidelined into playing second chair to Gabrielle's leader of the pack. "I filed an injunction with the Supreme Court citing the instances of -"

"The Supreme Court has no jurisdiction in the matter." Kelly waited for Alex to stop her attempt to remove Gabrielle's ear with her teeth before continuing, "Femslash is a global institution and, therefore, cannot be governed by the laws of any one country."

"Actually," Serene interrupted, "the individual media and distribution of femslash can be governed, within its borders, by a single nation's legal system; however, as I'm sure you are aware, most femslash material is broadcast over the Internet which is -"

"Lawyers," Buffy scoffed, "they're worse than Vengal Beasts during a full moon."

"Enough!" Gabrielle screamed.

Alex dropped the gavel as Gabrielle began waving her sais in the air and screaming menace at the assembled members of the US judiciary. She would write a strongly worded complaint to the board of the B.F.A.G. but, until then, she thought it prudent to let the little savage have her day.

"Is it always like this?" Chase asked, the prospect of fresh blood highly intoxicating.

"Altercations of a verbal and physical nature do occur with a certain regularity when Ms Cabot and Ms Of Potedia are confined in the same room," Seven informed. "Although highly illogical, it would appear that power struggles of this nature are unavoidable."

"I say we gag 'em both and stick them in a corner until the meeting's over," offered Scribbs. "I've got to get back to the station by six."

"I too have an appointment." Seven watched passively as Gabrielle climbed down from the table and holstered her sais; the peculiarities of human beings had never ceased to amaze her, even if she failed to show it. "I believe the discord has been resolved."

"I call this meeting to order." As the gavel met with the table top, Gabrielle gave a smug smile of triumph to the former ADA. "The first order of business is to discuss the growing trend among fanfic writers to stray away from the holy gospel of OTP and pair characters of a similar or - I feel sick just saying this - identical hair colour."

A few gasps were heard from the lawyers while several others merely shrugged.

"What is the relevance of hair pigmentation?" queried Seven.

Alex nearly gave herself whiplash as she turned to stare at the imposing looking former Borg. "Relevance? Relevance! It is the -"

"Relevance is futile," Scribbs whispered, causing Buffy to laugh and Seven to raise an eloquent brow.

" - cornerstone of our entire civilisation. The foundation of our OTPs and guarantee that no brunette or redhead will come in and steal what is ours."

"Tell that to Clairol." Scribbs pointed to one woman after the other. "It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to see that half this lot got their blonde from a bottle, so how the hell can it be the foundation of anything?"

"I'm a natural blonde," Alex huffed.

"You're missing the point." Gabrielle tucked a couple of strands of hair behind her ear and wished she could remember exactly what shade of blonde she was that week. "Everyone in this room identifies as a blonde. It's in our blood, even if it's not in our hair -"

"Did someone say blood?" Chase cracked an eyelid but once the scent of fresh kill failed to materialise she went back to feigning sleep.

"- and that is why we must fight to keep the boundaries intact."

Both Buffy and Chase perked up at the 'f' word but it was the slayer who voiced their shared glee, "Who do we get to fight?"

"I was speaking metaphorically." Gabrielle tapped her trusty sais and reconsidered for a moment. "Although maybe that's not such a bad idea."

The three lawyers started jabbering away to each other before Alex stepped forward to act as a spokesperson for the group. "There is precedent for the civilian use of physical force to curb lawless behaviour," she explained. "In Maldevoy versus -"

"Hold your horses." Scribbs gave the pontificating lawyer a baleful glance. "Who exactly are you suggesting we nobble? 'Cause if all you're worried about are brunettes and such nicking our OT-watsit, then we'd only end up fighting the very women we're trying to get in bed."

Alex and her lawyerly posse rolled their eyes in disdain but it was Gabrielle who took up the mantle of explaining the facts of fanfic life to the new arrival.

"Emma, I know you're new to B.F.A.G. but there are certain things you should realise if you plan to stay a femslash-able member of fan fiction." There was a certain underlying tone of menace to Gabrielle's words that kept Scribbs from openly mocking the shorter woman's pretentiousness, although she was mightily tempted. "As a femslash character you are, like the rest of us, at the mercy of a despicable group of people known as the fanfic writers." Gabrielle shuddered in feigned horror. "They have the power to kill, maim and pair us with whoever they see fit; men, women, centaurs, it makes no difference to them."

"Centaurs?" Scribbs looked ill. "In suburbia?"

"The point is that they are the ones who decide our fate and the hair colour of our romantic partners."

"So we get to suck the blood of these writer people?" Chase asked.

"No." The lawyers said as one.

Chase pouted and began cleaning her nails with a dagger.

"But you do want us to fight these writers?" Scribbs questioned.

"Yes." This time Gabrielle leant her voice to that of the lawyers.

"Your logic is flawed." Seven looked bored by the continual bickering and almost ready to leave. "We cannot physically harm the writers and, even if we were able, it is highly improbable that they would feel inclined to write for us after we have broken their bones."

"They might," Buffy shrugged. "Spike always did what I told him after I'd kicked him around a little."

"This Spike person is a fictional character, correct?" Seven asked.


"Then his reactions cannot indicate those of the writers."

Buffy slumped down in her seat, pretty certain that she wouldn't get to pound on someone's face any time soon.

"All right, then what do you suggest?" Alex asked.

Seven cocked her head to one side as she mulled over the problem; a long ago piece of advice capturing her attention. "I believe their is an old Earth saying that states: 'You can capture more flies with honey than with vinegar'."

Scribbs shared a baffled look with Buffy before asking, "Come again?"

"If we wish to guarantee that we are paired with the brunette or redhead of our choice, we must make ourselves desirable to the writers." Seven explained. "While at the same time eliminating any subtext we might share with characters who shares our hair pigmentation."

"So I should jump into bed with Ash more often?" Scribbs' brow scrunched together in doubt before the benefits of the situation made themselves known. "Not a bad idea."

"I doesn't seem very proactive," Alex whined.

"That," said Seven, "is because you have failed to take into account the necessity to persuade our brunette and redheaded paramours to follow our example and make their preferences for all things blonde well known."

"I get to nobble Ash," Scribbs beamed.

"And I'll have a word with Willow and Faith," Buffy preened, knowing full well that she was one of the few women in the room to boast both a brunette and redheaded OTP.

"I'll talk to Olivia," Alex decided, "and send that Casey woman an e-mail."

As the women began to chatter and plan their route of attack - quite literally in Chase's case - Gabrielle banged the gavel against the table to secure their attention and put an end to the cacophony.

"We need to take a vote," she said. "All those in favour of attacking the writers, say 'Ah'." A few mumbles were heard about the room but not a single 'Ah' among them. "Okay, and those in favour of Ms Of Nine's approach?"

As the sound of 'Ah's resounded across the room Gabrielle called the meeting to a close and, passing the gavel to Alex, rushed for the doors and her waiting warrior woman; she had some subtext to heighten.

The End

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