FIC thing I think.

[lettered]

Title: No Need For Cake Or Flowers
Rating: violent.
Length: short. 350 words.
Disclaimer: Title is Jill Tracy, Diabolical Streak, "Let's Spend an Evil Night Together". Nothing gets more Spike/Dru than that song.
A/N: This isn't really a fic. It's more like stream of consciousness. You might find it fun, so I share...but it's not a fic fic.


Chicago, 1920s

Dru's been sleepin' shaky, misses the snag of Darla's nails. He's been creepin' by wary, trying not to wake her nighttime hush. Sneakin' out at night now and then, he brings her back a bedroom tale: a virgin fresh and saintly, but the fear's too thin to feed Dru's lust.

Need a plan to pep her up some, get back the days of mayhem. Wanna hit on the town on all sixes, feed on all the innocence. Get on down by the jazzin' parlor, Spike steps her in for a bit of punch. Let the smoke sting like incense; suck in on the jazz room draw. Fuck the fish-net waitress, serve up a plate of fun.

Inside is murky gambol, all full of the frets and gin. Bassist plucking the beat right in tune, inching toward the perfect chord. Hoofer high-kicking up where the moon goes, shimmyin' down where the jeepers creep. Crooked man bent over the bar with a cigar, taper, bottle of booze and a loose suspender. Gotta stage blue with the haze of warm blood, sweat and pores so sweet like candy. Gonna drink it all down in one shot, then again it could be three.

Wend a way through the torsos and neck-lines, Spike n' Dru it into the cool black heart-- sittin' pretty piano, thrummin' hard with its ribcage of groove. A cool cat's nookie'in' around on its G-spots, minor and good ole treble'in' clef; he's sendin' a thrill down its baby grand, just like twistin' that birdie's breasts.

Take 'im down with a whisper kiss, lands so smooth it's like on a film. "Dinner and a show ducks, all set for a Friday evening. Let's murder till the bassist stops screaming; come on, he'll taste like pepper/mint."

Jazzer's blood oozin' down on the hard floor, snap of silence makes it so damn real. Red and the blue swirling 'round all rich swanky, it's a violet shadow on an artist's paints. "Daddy'd've loved the show here, so sad, it's jazz and all so bent."

"Gotta get over it, doll; it's just me; see?" But just another fairytale gone wrong. Dru ain't buyin', Dru, Dru, doll--she's got the blues.

Comments

[my_daroga]

Oh, that's lovely. Like poetry, not fic. Hehe, I like "where the jeepers creep." I think it should sound cheesy but I love it.

They sound like Bonnie and Clyde.

[aea]

Poetic, flows beautifully.
I have that CD on my Amazon wishlist, trying to find it in a store before ordering it. I take it it's worth it?

[entrenous88.livejournal.com]

Oooh, lufferly word-poem, like a mood or a groove more than a story.

[anelith.livejournal.com]

I love how the "bedroom tale" in the beginning comes around to the "fairytale gone wrong" in the end. The "snap of silence" making it "so damn real" is a really good sharp note after this dreamy, dizzying, musical stream of images.

The last line is so perfect.

[spuffyduds.livejournal.com]

Hoofer high-kicking up where the moon goes, shimmyin' down where the jeepers creep.

That's just wonderful.

[lynnenne]

This is really well done. It reads like scat--in the jazz sense of that term, not the vulgar sense. :) I could hear the voice of a gravelly old bluesman telling the tale, someone like Louis Armstrong or BB King.

Crooked man bent over the bar with a cigar, taper, bottle of booze and a loose suspender.

Fantastic detail! You create a terrific sense of atmosphere.

[rahirah]

I know it's not period, but I feel like I should give that beatnik snaps. *g*

[lillianmorgan.livejournal.com]

I really liked that! It had a real jazz rhythm to it. And like rahirah I could just see someone recounting the tale and snapping their fingers as they spoke.
Fuck the fish-net waitress, serve up a plate of fun.
Yum! Yum! Yum!
Wend a way through the torsos and neck-lines, Spike n' Dru it into the cool black heart
Oh ::happy sigh:: I have so missed reading Spike/Dru. Lovely.
Fic, or no fic, that was fun!

[semby.livejournal.com]

That flowed so pretty! Very rhythmic. And I love that last line - "just another fairytale gone wrong." Poor Dru.

[violaclaire.livejournal.com]

I have to echo along with other comments--it *does* read like a scat poem. There's very rich atmospherics and a wonderful rhythm to the words.

[cordelianne.livejournal.com]

This is wonderful! There's a beautiful poetic flow and rhythm to this piece.

I love the alliterations of "smoke", "sting" & "suck" which really make it flow:
Let the smoke sting like incense; suck in on the jazz room draw. Fuck the fish-net waitress, serve up a plate of fun. And the second sentence is wonderfully bookended by two words beginning with the same sound.

This is such an evocative image:
Crooked man bent over the bar with a cigar, taper, bottle of booze and a loose suspender.

[redbrickrose.livejournal.com]

Gorgeous; it reads like poetry.

[crazydiamondsue.livejournal.com]

Hoofer high-kicking up where the moon goes, shimmyin' down where the jeepers creep. You do things with words that I don't think Webster knew about. I read that line about 4 times just to let the groove sink in. It's still buzzing.

Absolutely wonderful job capturing the vibe and how Spike would get swept up in it. I'd say that you make everything in my head feel like it's singing, but well, it's been done. :) Gorgeous.