A Little Room for Cordy

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Every day for 30 days, I will have a vignette from a variety of fandoms that I’m familiar with, based on a “30 Days of Inspiration” prompt. Many of these fandoms you’ll see are ones I’ve either never written in before… or haven’t written in for a very, very long time (like, DECADES). And do be warned: the pieces are un-beta’d, so a few errors might’ve slipped past me. Just politely let me know where I erred, and I’ll fix it so your eyes won’t bleed.

Anyway, let’s get this show on the road—Cordelia Chase from the Buffy-verse (more specifically, her days with Angel) elbowed her way to the front of the line. So she’s my POV character for Day 1. I’ve never written her before, so the results should be interesting.

Day 1 – 5/9/15: “Your character moves into a new apartment. On the surface, the place seemed ideal, but his/her first night there, your character discovers a terrible problem with the place that he/she didn’t take into account…”


Cordelia had been thrilled to move into the Apartment at Pearson Arms. It was perfect; so full of light and air and soft, muted pastels.

But she hadn’t counted on the two ghosts haunting the place. Once was the spirit of a dead man whose body had been trapped in the wall for decades, and the other was his crazy, old mother who killed him to stop him from marrying the girl of his dreams.

And Cordelia had once thought she’d had family problems.

She’d walked out on her parents because they’d lied to her—they’d spent years living beyond their means, showered her with gifts and, admittedly, spoiled her rotten. Then, when the tax collector came threatening a lawsuit for over a decade of unpaid taxes… well, she wasn’t thrilled.

So, she figured she’d find honest work befitting a girl of her former status that could keep her living the lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to—she decided to become an actress.

Of course, Fate decided differently. She met Angel at a party, and decided it wouldn’t hurt to do the secretarial duties for the vampire-with-a-soul’s new P.I. agency. Well, it was a good thing to fall back on till her inevitable stardom took effect.

She still wasn’t sure what it was, entirely—inheriting Doyle’s visions, realizing how many people in Los Angeles were scared and in pain when Vocah laid his whammy on her, or just working day-in and day-out with the monster slayage. But somewhere along the line, Angel’s mission became her mission too.

Of course, she still loved her designer stuff—being superhero-y didn’t mean you shouldn’t consider looking good. Quite the opposite, actually; taking care of your appearance said to customers that you’d take care of them just as carefully.

At least, after getting demon grossness on her, she could go home, slip into a nice bath in her beautiful apartment, and settle in for the latest episode of Sex in the City. Cordy’d totally kill for Carrie’s Manolo Blahniks, like, you don’t even know.

And Phantom Dennis was a quiet roommate, so no big there, on the g-h-o-s-t end of things anyway.

Altogether, as weird as her life could be, it was mostly pretty sweet—doing good for humanity and a rent-controlled living space that wasn’t in some grody tenement was a pretty good life.

But there was one thing she’d never tell anyone, especially not Angel. It wasn’t a vision, more of a feeling, an inkling… but she knew she wouldn’t be here for much longer. Not just not here in her apartment, but not here on Earth.

It scared her at first, knowing for certain her time with Angel Investigations and being solid and the whole thing was already starting to run out. After all, plenty of people get to be ancient—like forty or something. But somewhere along the way, she stopped being scared and decided that she was going to do all the good she could, staying on the mission, for as long as she could.

But then, she supposed, unless you’re a vampire with a soul, being a champion doesn’t give you a very long shelf life. But you can change the world.

And, at the end of the day, that was all that really mattered.

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Last updated on: May 30, 2018

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Mostly, I write stuff. And, like the Egyptians and the Internet, I put cat pictures on my walls. Also, I can read your Tarot.