lettered: (Default)
-Is it so wrong of me to want a story with Connor and Angel, where the young, hip barista thinks it so sweet that someone as young, hot and rich as the football-shouldered pale guy in leather still takes his 70-year-old blue-eyed grandfather (he looks like Peter O'Toole. Is that wrong?) out for coffee every Tuesday?

-There's nothing weird about wanting Faith to have a passel of brats and for all of them to call their mommy's best friend, "Aunt Buffy". And for mommy and Aunt Buffy every once in a while to kiss in the laundry room, Faith sitting on the dryer with her legs around Buffy, asking, "The sheets clean, yet?" Buffy pulling away and finding the fabric softener and saying, "Yeah. You cleaned up real good." See. Not weird.

-And if Buffyverse really were to go all Round Table, wouldn't Buffy actually be the one who's King Arthur? Is it so wrong that this probably makes Spike Guinevere? Faith would be Morgan Le Fay, and Willow is obviously Merlin.

-Spike, self-portrait.

Dana drew some pictures small,
scribbled her crayon Watchers.
They beat her, drew her blood
got dripped, down a line of Slayers.
Might've been Fred who drew her
out of hell, on the wall;
Might've been Xander who knew her,
Watched her crayon/pencil it all in.
Willow who fucked her, made her
over Buffy who made her fuck,
or Angel made her Dru.
And when you looked at all those pictures,
small, you saw
she drew them all of you.
lettered: (Default)
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.

No Need For Cake Or Flowers )
lettered: (Default)
What: A Jossverse poem, free verse, very very short.
Why: for [livejournal.com profile] stultiloquentia, because she always rocks my world.
A/N: I suck at poetry. But it's fun to try.

Prerequisites )
lettered: (Default)
Title: Down There In The Reeperbahn
Length: Around 2,000 words again. Yay!
Rating: Hard R or NC-17.
Warnings: Um, everything? Slash, rape, and pedophilia but very non-graphic. Implications of incest, but strangely metaphoric. Um, cross-dressing? The kitchen sink.
Disclaimer: Uses dialogue from AtS S1.15, 3.8, 3.9, 4.1, and 4.22. Title is from a song by Tom Waits, also several ideas. Nursery rhymes gone wild.
Summary: Angelus, Darla, and a strangely androgynous man-child. Also, Drusilla.
A/N: 1. The Reeperbahn is a street near the Port of Hamburg historically infamous for prostitution.
2. This might not even be a fic. It's rhymey and strange, and, and, and, weird. It's not how I normally write at all. Frankly, I usually don't like this kind of writing, so this is out there for me. Probably you too. Who knows?
3. Much thanks to [livejournal.com profile] a2zmom for making me feel not as scared about posting it. Though am still nervousy. 'Cause as I mentioned? Strange.

Down There In The Reeperbahn )

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