Post by The Muse on May 30, 2009 0:46:26 GMT -5
The day has come to read the submissions for our first SlayAlive Scribes writing challenge! Get ready to vote for your favorite entry that embodies this prompt:
Using your favorite Whedonverse character or relationship, show us what makes them beautiful, awesome or amazing to you. Show us why you love them.
Entry #1
Entry #2
Entry #3
Entry #4
Entry #5
Entry #6
Entry #7
Entry #8
Using your favorite Whedonverse character or relationship, show us what makes them beautiful, awesome or amazing to you. Show us why you love them.
Submissions are formatted in prose (500 word minimum) or poetry. All entries are linked to a separate thread where you can leave individual feedback for the author. Good luck to all the participants!
*** All entries may be found within the Spoiler Tags or through the link to their own page where you may leave feedback.
*** All entries may be found within the Spoiler Tags or through the link to their own page where you may leave feedback.
Entry #1
Title: Not Seeing Red
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing/Characters: Willow and Tara
Summary: Basically, it's my ideal ending to the episode Seeing Red, involving Tara's not death.
Rating: Probably somewhere between PG-13 and R.
Warnings: a bit sexual, but not much. No actual details.
Disclaimer: Although i would love to own this show and it's characters, i don't. Joss is Boss.
Word Count: 818
Not Seeing Red
“Hey look!” Willow finished buttoning up her blouse. “Clothes!”
“Don’t get to used to them.” Tara said playfully.
“Mmm, yes ma’am” Willow reached out and hooked a finger around Tara’s belt loop. She pulled Tara up to her and they kissed. Willow wrapped her arms around her, just feeling the warmth of Tara’s body. They stood hugging for a few moments, although to Willow it felt like an entire summer day.
“Xander!” Tara said. Willow drew away from her and walked around her to put away a top that had been carelessly thrown on the ground last night.
“Okay, really not the reaction I was looking for.”
“No, Xander, he’s here.” Tara had moved aver to the window and peered out, down into the sunlit backyard.
“You think they’re making up?” Willow asked, looking up from folding the top.
“I hope so, that’s the best part.” Tara turned towards her and began to walk forward.
“It sure is.” Willow said as Tara’s arms folded around her. Again, their lips met, and Willow began to back towards the bed. However, with most of her attention on Tara, she didn’t know how close it was, and her legs bumped into the bed and she toppled back onto it. Tara came down on top of her with a small cry of surprise that soon turned into a laugh. They both adjusted themselves so they were laying side by side, facing each other.
Willow went in to kiss her again, and at the exact same time they both reached out to the other to tuck stray hair behind their ear. They both laughed when they saw what they were doing.
“I guess that’s one downside to dating girls.” Willow giggled. “There’s always hair in your face.”
“You’re telling me.” Tara grinned. “I’m pretty sure I swallowed a clump of redhead last night.”
“Plus, with girls, you have to fuss with brastraps a lot.”
“And tights.” They both laughed.
“But hey, big upsides, too.” Willow said. “I mean, no sticky mess to clean up afterwards.”
“Willow!” Tara tried to look scandalized, but was smiling all the same. “Ew.” She gave Willow a little push away from her.
“I’m just sayin’.” Willow moved closer to her. “If one of us had been a guy, we’d have to clean up—”
“Ewewewewewewewewew!” Tara shut her eyes and clapped her hands over her ears. Willow grinned and grabbed her girlfriends wrists, easing her hands away. She placed Tara’s hands close to her heart.
“But there’s other upsides, too.”
“Yeah.” Tara looked deep into Willow’s big, hazel eyes. “I can think of two pretty huge ones off the top of my head.”
“Yeah? What are those?”
“Well, there’s you. And then there’s me.”
Smiling, Willow gazed at Tara, whose eyes were closed, and the crooked smile Willow loved so was only half-formed. Willow knew that it meant Tara was in her place of absolute peace and contentment. She took one of Tara’s hands and kissed each one of her fingers.
“Tara?”
“Mmm?”
“I love you.” Tara’s eyes flickered open and she locked her eyes to Willow’s.
“Willow?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“Well, good.” Willow said, grinning. “Now that that’s settled.” She inched forward on the mattress and kissed Tara again. Tara had her hands on each side of Willow’s face, and Willow’s arms were running down Tara’s back, just feeling the warmth of another body next to hers, which was something she hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. She moved her hands down Tara’s back until she found the hem of Tara’s blue sweater. Slowly, she started to lift it up—
“Willow…” Tara murmured, breaking out of the kiss. She reached back and took Willow’s hands in her own, moving them away. “We can’t. Warren’s still out there somewhere. We have to help Buffy find him.”
“Fine.” Sorry to let this moment go, Willow rolled onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows. “Here we go. With the helping.” She made to sit up, but found herself caught on something. Looking back, she saw Tara’s fingers clinging to her own belt loop. Sinking back into the mattress, Willow looked across at the woman she loved. “But I thought you said—”
“I know.” Tara placed a hand on Willow’s hip. “But…Goddess, you feel so good. And we do have a lot of time to make up for.”
Willow let a smile creep to her lips and moved a little closer. She leaned in, wanting to bask in the glow of the moment forever, when suddenly—
Bang! Both girls yelped when they heard the gunshot, and the window shatter, almost at the same moment. Sitting up quickly, Willow saw a small hole in the wall that had certainly not been there before. Tara had leaped up and rushed to the window, just when an anguished cry of “Buffy!” coming from the yard.
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing/Characters: Willow and Tara
Summary: Basically, it's my ideal ending to the episode Seeing Red, involving Tara's not death.
Rating: Probably somewhere between PG-13 and R.
Warnings: a bit sexual, but not much. No actual details.
Disclaimer: Although i would love to own this show and it's characters, i don't. Joss is Boss.
Word Count: 818
Not Seeing Red
“Hey look!” Willow finished buttoning up her blouse. “Clothes!”
“Don’t get to used to them.” Tara said playfully.
“Mmm, yes ma’am” Willow reached out and hooked a finger around Tara’s belt loop. She pulled Tara up to her and they kissed. Willow wrapped her arms around her, just feeling the warmth of Tara’s body. They stood hugging for a few moments, although to Willow it felt like an entire summer day.
“Xander!” Tara said. Willow drew away from her and walked around her to put away a top that had been carelessly thrown on the ground last night.
“Okay, really not the reaction I was looking for.”
“No, Xander, he’s here.” Tara had moved aver to the window and peered out, down into the sunlit backyard.
“You think they’re making up?” Willow asked, looking up from folding the top.
“I hope so, that’s the best part.” Tara turned towards her and began to walk forward.
“It sure is.” Willow said as Tara’s arms folded around her. Again, their lips met, and Willow began to back towards the bed. However, with most of her attention on Tara, she didn’t know how close it was, and her legs bumped into the bed and she toppled back onto it. Tara came down on top of her with a small cry of surprise that soon turned into a laugh. They both adjusted themselves so they were laying side by side, facing each other.
Willow went in to kiss her again, and at the exact same time they both reached out to the other to tuck stray hair behind their ear. They both laughed when they saw what they were doing.
“I guess that’s one downside to dating girls.” Willow giggled. “There’s always hair in your face.”
“You’re telling me.” Tara grinned. “I’m pretty sure I swallowed a clump of redhead last night.”
“Plus, with girls, you have to fuss with brastraps a lot.”
“And tights.” They both laughed.
“But hey, big upsides, too.” Willow said. “I mean, no sticky mess to clean up afterwards.”
“Willow!” Tara tried to look scandalized, but was smiling all the same. “Ew.” She gave Willow a little push away from her.
“I’m just sayin’.” Willow moved closer to her. “If one of us had been a guy, we’d have to clean up—”
“Ewewewewewewewewew!” Tara shut her eyes and clapped her hands over her ears. Willow grinned and grabbed her girlfriends wrists, easing her hands away. She placed Tara’s hands close to her heart.
“But there’s other upsides, too.”
“Yeah.” Tara looked deep into Willow’s big, hazel eyes. “I can think of two pretty huge ones off the top of my head.”
“Yeah? What are those?”
“Well, there’s you. And then there’s me.”
Smiling, Willow gazed at Tara, whose eyes were closed, and the crooked smile Willow loved so was only half-formed. Willow knew that it meant Tara was in her place of absolute peace and contentment. She took one of Tara’s hands and kissed each one of her fingers.
“Tara?”
“Mmm?”
“I love you.” Tara’s eyes flickered open and she locked her eyes to Willow’s.
“Willow?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“Well, good.” Willow said, grinning. “Now that that’s settled.” She inched forward on the mattress and kissed Tara again. Tara had her hands on each side of Willow’s face, and Willow’s arms were running down Tara’s back, just feeling the warmth of another body next to hers, which was something she hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. She moved her hands down Tara’s back until she found the hem of Tara’s blue sweater. Slowly, she started to lift it up—
“Willow…” Tara murmured, breaking out of the kiss. She reached back and took Willow’s hands in her own, moving them away. “We can’t. Warren’s still out there somewhere. We have to help Buffy find him.”
“Fine.” Sorry to let this moment go, Willow rolled onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows. “Here we go. With the helping.” She made to sit up, but found herself caught on something. Looking back, she saw Tara’s fingers clinging to her own belt loop. Sinking back into the mattress, Willow looked across at the woman she loved. “But I thought you said—”
“I know.” Tara placed a hand on Willow’s hip. “But…Goddess, you feel so good. And we do have a lot of time to make up for.”
Willow let a smile creep to her lips and moved a little closer. She leaned in, wanting to bask in the glow of the moment forever, when suddenly—
Bang! Both girls yelped when they heard the gunshot, and the window shatter, almost at the same moment. Sitting up quickly, Willow saw a small hole in the wall that had certainly not been there before. Tara had leaped up and rushed to the window, just when an anguished cry of “Buffy!” coming from the yard.
Entry #2
Title: Only Life
Fandom: Angel
Pairing/Characters: Spike, Illyria, Fred
Summary: It starts with kicking people in the face, and leads to bar hoping; Also has some touching moments thrown in. What more can you want?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, Some Language
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters used below, just writing for fun.
Word Count: 3,827 Words
Author's Note: Thanks, to the few people who gave me some feed back!
One figure stood in the training room of Wolfram & Hart, the evil law firm, located in Los Angeles, California. This figure, with his slicked back, bleach blonde hair, was impatient. At first glance, he may look as calm as calm can be, but look again.
His right hand's fingers dug into the clip board he was holding. He didn't realize it, but slowly his grip had become so tight, that the thin piece of wood was about to snap in two. Not more than five seconds later, the clip board met its fate.
"Bloody hell! 'Blue Bitch' made me ruin my clip board!" He said loudly to himself, with his English accent very noticeable.
The object fell from his grasp, and hit the floor. A few papers loosened, and drifted away from their host. His eyes glanced down, landing an one of the papers. He took his time to bend down, and pick them up. Once all of the pieces of parchment had been collected into his hands again, the man lifted his head up; Broken clip board untouched.
He gasped when he saw who was in front of him... Or what. Illyria stood directly across from the blonde, English man. Her brown hair smooth today, with blue streaks shielding parts of her colorless skin.
"I have frightened you..." Illyria's words seemed like they took forever to form. Her voice lacked emotion, even though so much had once been there.
"Damn right you did! You can't just sneak up on people like that!"
Illyria's face was still, but suddenly had grown a devilish grin. Her pale, icy, blue eyes mocked him.
"I would pay my apologies, but I have none to give."
Spike's bottom lip curved in.
"You could have at least time teleported, or whatever the hell you do, back to the exact moment you were supposed to meet me here!"
Illyria tightened her jaw, and tilted her head side ways. She had a some what angry look to her.
"Oh," Spike said," That's right! You lost all of your little super powers, didn't you?" He slyly gave her a half smile, knowing he had hit her just as hard.
"You use sarcasm to attempt at hurting me mentally. Yet you do not realize that words can not harm the Great Illyria, even after she has been stripped of her mighty gifts!"
"I know a witch, she might be able to help with that word--"
"We will begin now," Illyria quickly cut Spike off, and following her words was the bottom of her foot to his face.
Spike struggled to keep his balance, as he tumbled a few steps back. The papers he had collected fell out of his hand once more.
Illyria's fist slammed into his nose, making sure he would fall. Spike landed with a thump.
"That was uncalled for! Restart! I'm the one who says when you can kick me in the face!"
Illyria was completely silent as she walked across the training room. Her head was sideways, looking down at Spike.
"I also punched you in your face," She added.
Spike sighed from his spot on the tile floor.
"I remember," He jumped to his feet, "Watch the cheek bones!"
"Now we shall start our duel?"
"It's not a duel. The broody, boss man needs me to test how powerful you, are as of now."
"Because you stole my gifts?"
"Exactly. You're a smart one, aren't you?"
Spike had been slowly moving his way towards Illyria, and threw one of his own fists at her. Her head was sent to the side; Her hair swung only once from the blow, but it still remained perfect.
"By the way, Love, the 'duel' started when I said 'Broody'."
Illyria snapped her head forward; At the same time, her arm impaled Spike's left rip cage. He was sent into the air, and hit into one of the four walls.
The Old One turned, as her foe recovered. She stomped herself over to the wall besides her. The blood red armor she wore reflected on the tile as she reached for a small battle axe.
"Who said we could use weapons?!" Spike asked angrily.
He managed to get on both feet. Even though Illyria's powers had been cut in half, she still had a good amount of strength.
Spike brushed off his right shoulder, trying to keep his leather coat smooth, and good looking. But he hastily had to dodge to the side, as Illyria threw the battle axe she had taken.
Spike slid across the Training Room. The axe hit just a second after he reached the exiting door. He turned his head to look at Illyria.
"Good aim," He taunted her.
The next thing he knew, Illyria was charging at him. No weapons, just full force. Force was bad enough. Spike got to his knees, and waited for her to get close. He jumped out of the way just in time.
Illyria came to a halt. She spun around, but Spike was ahead of her. He slammed into her; Pinning Illyria to the wall. His hands pushing on her shoulders. Oddly, she did nothing.
Spike continued to look at her, waiting for her to kick him off of her. She didn't.
"Well?" Spike asked.
He blinked. And that was all the time Illyria needed, maybe more. In front of him was no longer Illyria... It was the dead, perky, scientist, Wini 'Fred' Burkle.
Fred whimpered. Her eyes slid down. She was wearing the same clothes that she had died in; The same Illyria had been born in.
"S-Spike..." Her gentle, fragile voice pleaded, "Y-ou're hurting me..." She made her eyes meet his.
Spike was speechless. It looked like Fred. It talked like Fred. But it wasn't Fred. She was gone. Forever. The poor girl had been taken the worst way imaginable. And then, after all of her suffering, she wouldn't get any peace. None at all; Not even a moment of it.
His grip on her weakened. Fred pulled one of her arms free, and pulled some of her hair behind her right ear. All of the blue streaks were gone.
"Look at you!" Fred said with a smile so big, Spike didn't know a human could stretch their mouth that far. "I was shocked there for a millisecond; It's still weird seeing you fully corporeal, I was so used to seeing 'Ghost Spike'."
Spike lowered the arm that still held Fred. He looked her up and down.
"Spike, stop it!" She snorted very little,"You're making me blush! I'm not even wearing any make up or anything! If my mom was here, I'd be afraid to hear all of the things she'd say I'd look like!"
He took one step back. Spike knew it wasn't Fred. There was no possible way.
Fred arched her head just a little. She still had that wonderful smile on her face.
"Oh, boy! There was one time,I remember, when--"
"And that's all it is, Love," Spike spit out quickly. "Just memories."
"Of course it is a memory, Silly. How else would I remember it? The brain--"
"You're not her..." Spike interrupted again.
"You know I'm not," She agreed with him.
"Than why pretend to be?"
Fred suddenly got a vile expression on her face.
"I use Fred's memories to become her. I use her to confuse those who were close to her," said 'Fred' with Illyria's tone.
"Yes, I got that, but why do you act like her. You could have very well forced me off of you back there, but you decided to turn into Fred instead. Why?"
The Fred figure looked down.
"It reminds me that I will never be what she was. Her memories are strong. They are always here. Your reactions let me know that I am myself, and not a worthless human being. It is complicated."
"So you take on Fred's personality, just to remember yourself that you're Illyria?"
"In a way, yes."
"Huh. That's going on the clip board," Spike muttered quietly. "Now that we're done playing Dr. Phil, lets get back to the fight, shall we?"
The Fred image instantly morphed into the paler, more violent looking being.
"I am postponing our duel," Illyria announced as she walked out through the exit doors.
Spike watched her leave, and couldn't help it but feel that maybe some part of Fred was really still inside of her.
"Or maybe she's just a fantastic actress," Spike said to himself.
*****
His foot steps echoed as Spike walked through Wolfram & Hart's garage. He had his hands in his coat pockets; One hand held the keys to a red mustang.
Spike passed rows of beautiful cars. His favorite had been the navy ferrari; But he had crashed it a few weeks back. Angel threw a fit, even though Spike knew he didn't really caire.
He approached the car he had chosen, and made his way to the side. Spike opened the door, and jumped in. The keys were pushed into place, and he was ready to go.
"Bloody hell!" Spike yelled, as he fixed the rear view mirror, and saw Illyria standing behind the car.
"I wish to travel to your destination along side of you," She told him.
"Why? Getting tired of roaming the halls of this place?"
"Illyria does not tire easily. I have been crammed into the Wolf Ram and Hart for--"
"Yeah, whatever, get in." He said, tired of hearing Illyria carry on.
She squinted one eye at him, but did as he said. After thirty seconds, Illyria had still not entered the car.
"Are you going to stand there all night, or get in, Blue?" Spike asked her. She tilted her head, and moved her eyes to look at him.
"I can not open the door. It... It must be some kind of magic."
"Or you pull the handle," He said holding back a smirk. Illyria continued to try and find the switch to open the car door. Spike sighed, and reached over, opening it for her.
"Get in."
*****
Spike entered through the entrance to one of the many demon bars around L.A. He had been coming to this one the last few nights.
"Ahhh, Spike, buddy! Hey!" A big green demon greeted him from the tool he sat on. A bottle sat in front of him. He had black spikes coming out of his skin, and long finger nails.
Spike walked right passed him, and took a seat on another stool, and few down from the demon.
Illyria looked around the bar. She took in the shadowed place, which did not take all the long to do. Her armored feet made a loud noise every time she took a step. She sat down on her own stool, next to Spike.
"Give me the strongest thing you got in the place," Spike told the bar tender.
"I--" Illyria started to say, but Spike jumped ahead of her.
"And, no, Illyria. I did not mean you!"
Illyria starred at him. Her eyes were wide, and still very blue.
"Vampires are telepathic?" She asked him confused.
"Only in pathetic novels..." He muttered back.
"Here ya' go!" The bar tender said, handing Spike a glass cup with a clear liquid in it. Illyria looked at it.
"And get the blue friend a glass of it, as well," Spike added.
"Sure thing," the tender replied.
Illyria remained still until her drink was sat in front of her. She took a moment to pick it up. Slowly, she raised it to her nose, smelt it, and then licked it once with her tongue.
Her hand slammed the cup down, and created a sour look to her face. This was a new one of her expressions, Spike had never seen it. He laughed.
"I said it was strong," Spike warned her a bit late, "You almost broke the glass, and I wouldn't be paying for a new one!"
"That thing makes my taste buds quiver... And yet I crave another lick..."
"That's also another issue, Love. You don't lick that, or any drink. You sip it, like this," Spike raised his cup to his lips, and swallowed the whole thing in one gulp. "Or take it like a man... Ex-God King, I mean."
"I am still worthy of the title, 'God Kind'. I shall find a way to restore my gifts..." She explained.
"Is that so?"
"Yes. It is so." Illyria picked up her drink, and tried to minic what Spike had done to his own. Once she tilted the cup back, the alcohhol ran down her chin, missing her mouth.
Spike laughed at her, putting two of his fingers over his mouth. Illyria stuck her bottom lip out, showing her teeth, and looked him down. But she didn't frighten him at all.
"I do not find this situation humorous!" She barked at Spike.
"Right, right, I'm sorry!" Spike let out one more laugh before he was finally finished. Illyria put her cup down again, and brushed her chin off.
"Servant, I require another portion of this execrable beverage!"
The green demon looked over at Illyria, the same one who had welcomed Spike.
"Hey, lady, that's no way to treat the bar tender! Earl is a great guy!" The demon fussed at Illyria.
Illyria swung her head at the demon next her. A few other weird looking customers also turned to watch what was going to happen next.
"You dare to correct me, Illyria, ruler of what once was, and shaper of all things?!" She hissed to her new enemy.
"Yes, I do! Like you said, you may have ruled what 'Once was', but now you're in what 'is'! You rule nothing!"
"He's got a point there, Love," Spike added.
Illyria flipped her head back around to face Spike.
"You agree with this mongrel?!" Illyria questioned Spike.
"Not if you're going to beat me to a bloody pulp; This is my time to relax," Spike answered, and got in a more comfortable position.
"Fine. You are excused from this beating, I believe I kicked you enough for this day," Illyria turned back to the green demon, "But this thing will not get any kind of mercy!"
Spike raised an eye brow.
"Hey, I'm not saying I couldn't take 'ya, I just don't wanna get kicked outta this bar too," Spike said, defending himself.
"We're done, Vampire, it is his turn to be conquered; To see the greatness of Illyria!"
"Illyria... Illyria...," The demon said to himself, trying to remember something, "Isn't Illyria the name of that new flu going around? I'm pretty sure it is, because me buddy, Joey, got it, and he isn't looking to good--"
The green, monster looking thing jolted to a stop when Illyria jumped off of her bar stool, her feet landed not a second later.
"Woh, girly! We can talk about this!"
Illyria raised her right hand, and lifted the demon off of his own stool by the ragged clothing he wore. She took a moment to look him in the, feeding him more fear. Suddenly, she turned violently, and flung him across the room.
He flew over the heads of the other customers, missing them by inches; His trip ended when he collided into the wall he was thrown at.
The other demons stood from their chairs, mostly the ones that had almost been hit. These were also the most muscular.
Illyria tilted her head at the three others headed her way. They had been waiting for a bar fight.
"You seek a challenge; And you've come across one. We start with out warning," Illyria explained.
Spike looked to the bar tender, who was not looking rather happy.
"Get the lady out of here," The tender demanded.
"Or you'll do what? Take a swing at her too?" Spike questioned, with a evil grin on his face.
"Spke," The tender continued, "You've been kicked outta every bar in L.A., and almost all of the demon bars. You wanna add mine to that list?!"
Spike sighed, rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to Illyria. She had already taken out two of the demons, no including the first, green one.
"Blue! Ya' know I love a good bar fight, but I don't wanna get kicked out of this place too. Oddly, I love whatever he serves..." Spike told her.
Illyria paused, she held one of the demons by their throat.
"The bar tender is a demon; The liquid he serves to his buyers is--"
"Don't you say it, Missy!" The tender yelled at her.
Spike looked at him, raising an eye brow.
"I'm a bit frightened to hear the answer, actually," Spike said. He stood by slowly from his stool. "Let's go, Love."
"I have not finished my buisness with these pitty excuses of life," Illyria fought back.
"Yeah, well put the pitty excuse down, and let's go. I know another bar around here..." Spike ordered.
Illyria dropped the demon from her grasp. She looked down at him.
"I will finish you off, have no doubt." Illyria spun herself around, and walked out of the demon bar with Spike.
*****
"I know this place..." Illyria stated, as she and Spike entered another demon bar.
"You've been to a bar? Besides the last one? I bet you and your old pals used to get all of the good stuff. I wish I could have spent a night partying with the Old Ones..."
"A party in my day was to laugh at the half breeds, while we slaughtered them..."
Spike gave Illyria a glance. "... So you have been to a bar?"
"No, Vampire. I have not."
"... But you said--"
"But Fred has..."
Illyria made her way over a table. It was the largest one in the bar, for larger parties. She placed her palm on the top on one, rubbing her hand along it.
"Oh... That's right..." Spike said thoughtfully.
Illyria turned to face Spike, as she did so, her form shifted. She instantly looked like Winifred Burkle, once more.
"The clown sat here..." She said with her own, frightening voice.
"Clown?" Spike asked.
"One you call 'Lorne"... The green--"
"Yeah, yeah, we could call him names all day; Continue..."
"Next to the clown was the human, he stands out by his odd skin color, just as the demon..."
"Oh, now you're racist too?!"
"I am a superior being, I shall be what I wish..."
Illyria continued to walk around the table, looking at different chairs as she went through Fred's memories.
"Across from the two were the vampires..."
"Me, and Harm, right?" Spike asked, wanting to get her tale over with.
"Yes. The two blondes..."
Illyria snapped her head around to look at Spike.
"She hung on you.. Her arms around your neck. You wish to have nothing to do with her."
"Got that right! Crazy bitch needs to find herself a new play toy!"
"Bitch..." Illyria repeated, "We are discussing vampires, not dogs."
Spike looked at her like she was stupid. "Oh, excuse me. I was confused..." He said.
"And on the ends of the table were Fred, and the one who has changed over the years... Wesley. He and Fred made eye contact every few minutes. They could feel something. For each other..."
"Yeah, they were a cute little couple... While it lasted, I mean."
Illyria drew closer to Spike.
"And yet... Fred felt something else. It was overshadowed by her feeling for Wesley. A feeling for... you. Spike."
Spike's eyes widened a bit. He looked at the face of Fred. His dead friend, that just maybe could have been more than that.
"Feelings?" He asked, still looking at her.
"Yes. Feelings. The emotional type."
Illyria, in the image of Fred, moved closer to Spike. Her face got closer to his. And for a moment, he almost backed away. Their lips touched, just a little.
Spike pulled away quickly. No, quicker than quick. He had remembered the past, and realized what he had done.
"W-was... All of that true?" Spike asked Illyria, a bit shaken.
Illyria looked him right in the eye. She would not lie to him.
"No," She said, taking a second, "It was a lie. But you now know that you had a feeling for Fred, even if she had none for you. You kissed the thing that destroyed her, Winifred Burkle. You kissed her corpse."
She pulled one of the chairs out, and sat on it. Her face was in her hands. Spike did the same thing.
Spike heard a whimper come from the girl next to him. She looked up at him.
"What that monster did to me was wrong!" Illyria said in Fred's voice, "She hollowed me out, and made her way inside of me. She killed me. It murdered me!"
Spike wasn't sure what to do. Was this Illyria trying to mess with his head, and was she really showing guilt? He finally put his hand on her shoulder.
"There's no wrong or right, Love," Spike told her, "There's only life."
Illyria switched to her own form as she let out a cry. Her face still burried in her hands.
*****
A green demon entered his home. He was renting from his friend, Joey. His friend had no idea he was a demon, so he had to turn into a human image to look normal. It was a pain, to switch into a human, just to pay rent.
The monster sat his keys down on the kitchen table, and was about to head into the bed room. But something caught his eye. He turned around, his eyes looked out the window. He didn't have time to react.
A pipe that had been ripped off of the side of his apartment came crashing through the window. It plunged right into the demon's stomach, and out the other end.
He fell to the flood. Blood, also the color green, leaked from his body, and was absorbed by the carpet. As the light left his eyes, he saw a figure moving closer to his broken window.
It was a slender figure. The form of a woman. She had the most beautiful smile on her face. Her chocalate brown hair came off of her head like a flowing river. She poked her head into the window, giving the demon a good bye wave.
"I said I'd get 'ya!" The girl said in a the sweetest tone. She had the voice of an angel.
-END-
Fandom: Angel
Pairing/Characters: Spike, Illyria, Fred
Summary: It starts with kicking people in the face, and leads to bar hoping; Also has some touching moments thrown in. What more can you want?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, Some Language
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters used below, just writing for fun.
Word Count: 3,827 Words
Author's Note: Thanks, to the few people who gave me some feed back!
One figure stood in the training room of Wolfram & Hart, the evil law firm, located in Los Angeles, California. This figure, with his slicked back, bleach blonde hair, was impatient. At first glance, he may look as calm as calm can be, but look again.
His right hand's fingers dug into the clip board he was holding. He didn't realize it, but slowly his grip had become so tight, that the thin piece of wood was about to snap in two. Not more than five seconds later, the clip board met its fate.
"Bloody hell! 'Blue Bitch' made me ruin my clip board!" He said loudly to himself, with his English accent very noticeable.
The object fell from his grasp, and hit the floor. A few papers loosened, and drifted away from their host. His eyes glanced down, landing an one of the papers. He took his time to bend down, and pick them up. Once all of the pieces of parchment had been collected into his hands again, the man lifted his head up; Broken clip board untouched.
He gasped when he saw who was in front of him... Or what. Illyria stood directly across from the blonde, English man. Her brown hair smooth today, with blue streaks shielding parts of her colorless skin.
"I have frightened you..." Illyria's words seemed like they took forever to form. Her voice lacked emotion, even though so much had once been there.
"Damn right you did! You can't just sneak up on people like that!"
Illyria's face was still, but suddenly had grown a devilish grin. Her pale, icy, blue eyes mocked him.
"I would pay my apologies, but I have none to give."
Spike's bottom lip curved in.
"You could have at least time teleported, or whatever the hell you do, back to the exact moment you were supposed to meet me here!"
Illyria tightened her jaw, and tilted her head side ways. She had a some what angry look to her.
"Oh," Spike said," That's right! You lost all of your little super powers, didn't you?" He slyly gave her a half smile, knowing he had hit her just as hard.
"You use sarcasm to attempt at hurting me mentally. Yet you do not realize that words can not harm the Great Illyria, even after she has been stripped of her mighty gifts!"
"I know a witch, she might be able to help with that word--"
"We will begin now," Illyria quickly cut Spike off, and following her words was the bottom of her foot to his face.
Spike struggled to keep his balance, as he tumbled a few steps back. The papers he had collected fell out of his hand once more.
Illyria's fist slammed into his nose, making sure he would fall. Spike landed with a thump.
"That was uncalled for! Restart! I'm the one who says when you can kick me in the face!"
Illyria was completely silent as she walked across the training room. Her head was sideways, looking down at Spike.
"I also punched you in your face," She added.
Spike sighed from his spot on the tile floor.
"I remember," He jumped to his feet, "Watch the cheek bones!"
"Now we shall start our duel?"
"It's not a duel. The broody, boss man needs me to test how powerful you, are as of now."
"Because you stole my gifts?"
"Exactly. You're a smart one, aren't you?"
Spike had been slowly moving his way towards Illyria, and threw one of his own fists at her. Her head was sent to the side; Her hair swung only once from the blow, but it still remained perfect.
"By the way, Love, the 'duel' started when I said 'Broody'."
Illyria snapped her head forward; At the same time, her arm impaled Spike's left rip cage. He was sent into the air, and hit into one of the four walls.
The Old One turned, as her foe recovered. She stomped herself over to the wall besides her. The blood red armor she wore reflected on the tile as she reached for a small battle axe.
"Who said we could use weapons?!" Spike asked angrily.
He managed to get on both feet. Even though Illyria's powers had been cut in half, she still had a good amount of strength.
Spike brushed off his right shoulder, trying to keep his leather coat smooth, and good looking. But he hastily had to dodge to the side, as Illyria threw the battle axe she had taken.
Spike slid across the Training Room. The axe hit just a second after he reached the exiting door. He turned his head to look at Illyria.
"Good aim," He taunted her.
The next thing he knew, Illyria was charging at him. No weapons, just full force. Force was bad enough. Spike got to his knees, and waited for her to get close. He jumped out of the way just in time.
Illyria came to a halt. She spun around, but Spike was ahead of her. He slammed into her; Pinning Illyria to the wall. His hands pushing on her shoulders. Oddly, she did nothing.
Spike continued to look at her, waiting for her to kick him off of her. She didn't.
"Well?" Spike asked.
He blinked. And that was all the time Illyria needed, maybe more. In front of him was no longer Illyria... It was the dead, perky, scientist, Wini 'Fred' Burkle.
Fred whimpered. Her eyes slid down. She was wearing the same clothes that she had died in; The same Illyria had been born in.
"S-Spike..." Her gentle, fragile voice pleaded, "Y-ou're hurting me..." She made her eyes meet his.
Spike was speechless. It looked like Fred. It talked like Fred. But it wasn't Fred. She was gone. Forever. The poor girl had been taken the worst way imaginable. And then, after all of her suffering, she wouldn't get any peace. None at all; Not even a moment of it.
His grip on her weakened. Fred pulled one of her arms free, and pulled some of her hair behind her right ear. All of the blue streaks were gone.
"Look at you!" Fred said with a smile so big, Spike didn't know a human could stretch their mouth that far. "I was shocked there for a millisecond; It's still weird seeing you fully corporeal, I was so used to seeing 'Ghost Spike'."
Spike lowered the arm that still held Fred. He looked her up and down.
"Spike, stop it!" She snorted very little,"You're making me blush! I'm not even wearing any make up or anything! If my mom was here, I'd be afraid to hear all of the things she'd say I'd look like!"
He took one step back. Spike knew it wasn't Fred. There was no possible way.
Fred arched her head just a little. She still had that wonderful smile on her face.
"Oh, boy! There was one time,I remember, when--"
"And that's all it is, Love," Spike spit out quickly. "Just memories."
"Of course it is a memory, Silly. How else would I remember it? The brain--"
"You're not her..." Spike interrupted again.
"You know I'm not," She agreed with him.
"Than why pretend to be?"
Fred suddenly got a vile expression on her face.
"I use Fred's memories to become her. I use her to confuse those who were close to her," said 'Fred' with Illyria's tone.
"Yes, I got that, but why do you act like her. You could have very well forced me off of you back there, but you decided to turn into Fred instead. Why?"
The Fred figure looked down.
"It reminds me that I will never be what she was. Her memories are strong. They are always here. Your reactions let me know that I am myself, and not a worthless human being. It is complicated."
"So you take on Fred's personality, just to remember yourself that you're Illyria?"
"In a way, yes."
"Huh. That's going on the clip board," Spike muttered quietly. "Now that we're done playing Dr. Phil, lets get back to the fight, shall we?"
The Fred image instantly morphed into the paler, more violent looking being.
"I am postponing our duel," Illyria announced as she walked out through the exit doors.
Spike watched her leave, and couldn't help it but feel that maybe some part of Fred was really still inside of her.
"Or maybe she's just a fantastic actress," Spike said to himself.
*****
His foot steps echoed as Spike walked through Wolfram & Hart's garage. He had his hands in his coat pockets; One hand held the keys to a red mustang.
Spike passed rows of beautiful cars. His favorite had been the navy ferrari; But he had crashed it a few weeks back. Angel threw a fit, even though Spike knew he didn't really caire.
He approached the car he had chosen, and made his way to the side. Spike opened the door, and jumped in. The keys were pushed into place, and he was ready to go.
"Bloody hell!" Spike yelled, as he fixed the rear view mirror, and saw Illyria standing behind the car.
"I wish to travel to your destination along side of you," She told him.
"Why? Getting tired of roaming the halls of this place?"
"Illyria does not tire easily. I have been crammed into the Wolf Ram and Hart for--"
"Yeah, whatever, get in." He said, tired of hearing Illyria carry on.
She squinted one eye at him, but did as he said. After thirty seconds, Illyria had still not entered the car.
"Are you going to stand there all night, or get in, Blue?" Spike asked her. She tilted her head, and moved her eyes to look at him.
"I can not open the door. It... It must be some kind of magic."
"Or you pull the handle," He said holding back a smirk. Illyria continued to try and find the switch to open the car door. Spike sighed, and reached over, opening it for her.
"Get in."
*****
Spike entered through the entrance to one of the many demon bars around L.A. He had been coming to this one the last few nights.
"Ahhh, Spike, buddy! Hey!" A big green demon greeted him from the tool he sat on. A bottle sat in front of him. He had black spikes coming out of his skin, and long finger nails.
Spike walked right passed him, and took a seat on another stool, and few down from the demon.
Illyria looked around the bar. She took in the shadowed place, which did not take all the long to do. Her armored feet made a loud noise every time she took a step. She sat down on her own stool, next to Spike.
"Give me the strongest thing you got in the place," Spike told the bar tender.
"I--" Illyria started to say, but Spike jumped ahead of her.
"And, no, Illyria. I did not mean you!"
Illyria starred at him. Her eyes were wide, and still very blue.
"Vampires are telepathic?" She asked him confused.
"Only in pathetic novels..." He muttered back.
"Here ya' go!" The bar tender said, handing Spike a glass cup with a clear liquid in it. Illyria looked at it.
"And get the blue friend a glass of it, as well," Spike added.
"Sure thing," the tender replied.
Illyria remained still until her drink was sat in front of her. She took a moment to pick it up. Slowly, she raised it to her nose, smelt it, and then licked it once with her tongue.
Her hand slammed the cup down, and created a sour look to her face. This was a new one of her expressions, Spike had never seen it. He laughed.
"I said it was strong," Spike warned her a bit late, "You almost broke the glass, and I wouldn't be paying for a new one!"
"That thing makes my taste buds quiver... And yet I crave another lick..."
"That's also another issue, Love. You don't lick that, or any drink. You sip it, like this," Spike raised his cup to his lips, and swallowed the whole thing in one gulp. "Or take it like a man... Ex-God King, I mean."
"I am still worthy of the title, 'God Kind'. I shall find a way to restore my gifts..." She explained.
"Is that so?"
"Yes. It is so." Illyria picked up her drink, and tried to minic what Spike had done to his own. Once she tilted the cup back, the alcohhol ran down her chin, missing her mouth.
Spike laughed at her, putting two of his fingers over his mouth. Illyria stuck her bottom lip out, showing her teeth, and looked him down. But she didn't frighten him at all.
"I do not find this situation humorous!" She barked at Spike.
"Right, right, I'm sorry!" Spike let out one more laugh before he was finally finished. Illyria put her cup down again, and brushed her chin off.
"Servant, I require another portion of this execrable beverage!"
The green demon looked over at Illyria, the same one who had welcomed Spike.
"Hey, lady, that's no way to treat the bar tender! Earl is a great guy!" The demon fussed at Illyria.
Illyria swung her head at the demon next her. A few other weird looking customers also turned to watch what was going to happen next.
"You dare to correct me, Illyria, ruler of what once was, and shaper of all things?!" She hissed to her new enemy.
"Yes, I do! Like you said, you may have ruled what 'Once was', but now you're in what 'is'! You rule nothing!"
"He's got a point there, Love," Spike added.
Illyria flipped her head back around to face Spike.
"You agree with this mongrel?!" Illyria questioned Spike.
"Not if you're going to beat me to a bloody pulp; This is my time to relax," Spike answered, and got in a more comfortable position.
"Fine. You are excused from this beating, I believe I kicked you enough for this day," Illyria turned back to the green demon, "But this thing will not get any kind of mercy!"
Spike raised an eye brow.
"Hey, I'm not saying I couldn't take 'ya, I just don't wanna get kicked outta this bar too," Spike said, defending himself.
"We're done, Vampire, it is his turn to be conquered; To see the greatness of Illyria!"
"Illyria... Illyria...," The demon said to himself, trying to remember something, "Isn't Illyria the name of that new flu going around? I'm pretty sure it is, because me buddy, Joey, got it, and he isn't looking to good--"
The green, monster looking thing jolted to a stop when Illyria jumped off of her bar stool, her feet landed not a second later.
"Woh, girly! We can talk about this!"
Illyria raised her right hand, and lifted the demon off of his own stool by the ragged clothing he wore. She took a moment to look him in the, feeding him more fear. Suddenly, she turned violently, and flung him across the room.
He flew over the heads of the other customers, missing them by inches; His trip ended when he collided into the wall he was thrown at.
The other demons stood from their chairs, mostly the ones that had almost been hit. These were also the most muscular.
Illyria tilted her head at the three others headed her way. They had been waiting for a bar fight.
"You seek a challenge; And you've come across one. We start with out warning," Illyria explained.
Spike looked to the bar tender, who was not looking rather happy.
"Get the lady out of here," The tender demanded.
"Or you'll do what? Take a swing at her too?" Spike questioned, with a evil grin on his face.
"Spke," The tender continued, "You've been kicked outta every bar in L.A., and almost all of the demon bars. You wanna add mine to that list?!"
Spike sighed, rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to Illyria. She had already taken out two of the demons, no including the first, green one.
"Blue! Ya' know I love a good bar fight, but I don't wanna get kicked out of this place too. Oddly, I love whatever he serves..." Spike told her.
Illyria paused, she held one of the demons by their throat.
"The bar tender is a demon; The liquid he serves to his buyers is--"
"Don't you say it, Missy!" The tender yelled at her.
Spike looked at him, raising an eye brow.
"I'm a bit frightened to hear the answer, actually," Spike said. He stood by slowly from his stool. "Let's go, Love."
"I have not finished my buisness with these pitty excuses of life," Illyria fought back.
"Yeah, well put the pitty excuse down, and let's go. I know another bar around here..." Spike ordered.
Illyria dropped the demon from her grasp. She looked down at him.
"I will finish you off, have no doubt." Illyria spun herself around, and walked out of the demon bar with Spike.
*****
"I know this place..." Illyria stated, as she and Spike entered another demon bar.
"You've been to a bar? Besides the last one? I bet you and your old pals used to get all of the good stuff. I wish I could have spent a night partying with the Old Ones..."
"A party in my day was to laugh at the half breeds, while we slaughtered them..."
Spike gave Illyria a glance. "... So you have been to a bar?"
"No, Vampire. I have not."
"... But you said--"
"But Fred has..."
Illyria made her way over a table. It was the largest one in the bar, for larger parties. She placed her palm on the top on one, rubbing her hand along it.
"Oh... That's right..." Spike said thoughtfully.
Illyria turned to face Spike, as she did so, her form shifted. She instantly looked like Winifred Burkle, once more.
"The clown sat here..." She said with her own, frightening voice.
"Clown?" Spike asked.
"One you call 'Lorne"... The green--"
"Yeah, yeah, we could call him names all day; Continue..."
"Next to the clown was the human, he stands out by his odd skin color, just as the demon..."
"Oh, now you're racist too?!"
"I am a superior being, I shall be what I wish..."
Illyria continued to walk around the table, looking at different chairs as she went through Fred's memories.
"Across from the two were the vampires..."
"Me, and Harm, right?" Spike asked, wanting to get her tale over with.
"Yes. The two blondes..."
Illyria snapped her head around to look at Spike.
"She hung on you.. Her arms around your neck. You wish to have nothing to do with her."
"Got that right! Crazy bitch needs to find herself a new play toy!"
"Bitch..." Illyria repeated, "We are discussing vampires, not dogs."
Spike looked at her like she was stupid. "Oh, excuse me. I was confused..." He said.
"And on the ends of the table were Fred, and the one who has changed over the years... Wesley. He and Fred made eye contact every few minutes. They could feel something. For each other..."
"Yeah, they were a cute little couple... While it lasted, I mean."
Illyria drew closer to Spike.
"And yet... Fred felt something else. It was overshadowed by her feeling for Wesley. A feeling for... you. Spike."
Spike's eyes widened a bit. He looked at the face of Fred. His dead friend, that just maybe could have been more than that.
"Feelings?" He asked, still looking at her.
"Yes. Feelings. The emotional type."
Illyria, in the image of Fred, moved closer to Spike. Her face got closer to his. And for a moment, he almost backed away. Their lips touched, just a little.
Spike pulled away quickly. No, quicker than quick. He had remembered the past, and realized what he had done.
"W-was... All of that true?" Spike asked Illyria, a bit shaken.
Illyria looked him right in the eye. She would not lie to him.
"No," She said, taking a second, "It was a lie. But you now know that you had a feeling for Fred, even if she had none for you. You kissed the thing that destroyed her, Winifred Burkle. You kissed her corpse."
She pulled one of the chairs out, and sat on it. Her face was in her hands. Spike did the same thing.
Spike heard a whimper come from the girl next to him. She looked up at him.
"What that monster did to me was wrong!" Illyria said in Fred's voice, "She hollowed me out, and made her way inside of me. She killed me. It murdered me!"
Spike wasn't sure what to do. Was this Illyria trying to mess with his head, and was she really showing guilt? He finally put his hand on her shoulder.
"There's no wrong or right, Love," Spike told her, "There's only life."
Illyria switched to her own form as she let out a cry. Her face still burried in her hands.
*****
A green demon entered his home. He was renting from his friend, Joey. His friend had no idea he was a demon, so he had to turn into a human image to look normal. It was a pain, to switch into a human, just to pay rent.
The monster sat his keys down on the kitchen table, and was about to head into the bed room. But something caught his eye. He turned around, his eyes looked out the window. He didn't have time to react.
A pipe that had been ripped off of the side of his apartment came crashing through the window. It plunged right into the demon's stomach, and out the other end.
He fell to the flood. Blood, also the color green, leaked from his body, and was absorbed by the carpet. As the light left his eyes, he saw a figure moving closer to his broken window.
It was a slender figure. The form of a woman. She had the most beautiful smile on her face. Her chocalate brown hair came off of her head like a flowing river. She poked her head into the window, giving the demon a good bye wave.
"I said I'd get 'ya!" The girl said in a the sweetest tone. She had the voice of an angel.
-END-
Entry #3
Title: Everytime
Fandom: Angel
Pairing/Characters: Angel/Cordelia
Summary: Angel reflects on his relationship with Cordelia
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. All characters and themes, etc, belong to Joss Whedon
Word Count: 534 words
Everytime
Every time she walked into the hotel, his dead heart leapt with joy. Her scent, smile and laughter were intoxicating to him. He couldn’t get enough of her. Seeing her everyday brought a smile to his face as he stared at her stunning form, something he could do for hours on end if he wasn’t interrupted
Every time he got down on himself and went into brood mode, usually over Connor’s future, Buffy or the mission in general, she was always there for him with some witty words, a heart-warming speech and a winning smile and the next thing he knew, he was smiling too and having a new positive outlook on life
Every time he went out and got himself injured in a fight, either because he was thinking about her safety or ignoring her calls for him to be careful, she would be by his side, stitching up his wounds, setting his nerves on fire with her delicate touch. It took all his willpower not to take her right then and there. Well, there was also the curse to think about and the fact that she might give him a good berating
Every time she looked after Connor, changing him and giving him his bottle, cooing to him and rocking him to sleep, he would take a picture in his head and lock it away in the memory vault. He would then stay up late at night, watching over a sleeping Connor as he brought the memories to life in his drawings. He had a whole folder filled to the brim with pictures of Cordelia and Connor. Happy memories
Every time she joined him for training, he would smile to himself, proud of her progress. It was also a chance to be very close to her, his body pressed up against hers and she wouldn’t mind. He had a feeling she also enjoyed the contact, sensing her rising body heat. But then she would break away and he would be yearning for her touch once again
Every time they lay down on the bed together, putting Connor to sleep, he would think about how far they had come as friends and teammates. Partners-in-fighting-crime, so to speak. And he would wish that they were actually a couple, putting their son to sleep as they slowly drifted off to sleep themselves. He hoped that a day would come soon when he would be able to tell her his feelings and that she felt the same
Every time they were together, either at the hotel or out on a case, he would briefly stop and stare at her, thinking what an amazing woman she come, how much she had changed in such short time and how much she had changed him. Then he would think that they’ve changed each other for the best. He knew that they complimented each other so well. It was like they were meant to be together, from their initial meeting in Sunnydale, to their reunion in Los Angeles and the start of their business. They had gone through some good, bad and worst times, sticking together all the way through
Maybe Fred wasn’t crazy when she told him about kyerumption…
Fandom: Angel
Pairing/Characters: Angel/Cordelia
Summary: Angel reflects on his relationship with Cordelia
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. All characters and themes, etc, belong to Joss Whedon
Word Count: 534 words
Everytime
Every time she walked into the hotel, his dead heart leapt with joy. Her scent, smile and laughter were intoxicating to him. He couldn’t get enough of her. Seeing her everyday brought a smile to his face as he stared at her stunning form, something he could do for hours on end if he wasn’t interrupted
Every time he got down on himself and went into brood mode, usually over Connor’s future, Buffy or the mission in general, she was always there for him with some witty words, a heart-warming speech and a winning smile and the next thing he knew, he was smiling too and having a new positive outlook on life
Every time he went out and got himself injured in a fight, either because he was thinking about her safety or ignoring her calls for him to be careful, she would be by his side, stitching up his wounds, setting his nerves on fire with her delicate touch. It took all his willpower not to take her right then and there. Well, there was also the curse to think about and the fact that she might give him a good berating
Every time she looked after Connor, changing him and giving him his bottle, cooing to him and rocking him to sleep, he would take a picture in his head and lock it away in the memory vault. He would then stay up late at night, watching over a sleeping Connor as he brought the memories to life in his drawings. He had a whole folder filled to the brim with pictures of Cordelia and Connor. Happy memories
Every time she joined him for training, he would smile to himself, proud of her progress. It was also a chance to be very close to her, his body pressed up against hers and she wouldn’t mind. He had a feeling she also enjoyed the contact, sensing her rising body heat. But then she would break away and he would be yearning for her touch once again
Every time they lay down on the bed together, putting Connor to sleep, he would think about how far they had come as friends and teammates. Partners-in-fighting-crime, so to speak. And he would wish that they were actually a couple, putting their son to sleep as they slowly drifted off to sleep themselves. He hoped that a day would come soon when he would be able to tell her his feelings and that she felt the same
Every time they were together, either at the hotel or out on a case, he would briefly stop and stare at her, thinking what an amazing woman she come, how much she had changed in such short time and how much she had changed him. Then he would think that they’ve changed each other for the best. He knew that they complimented each other so well. It was like they were meant to be together, from their initial meeting in Sunnydale, to their reunion in Los Angeles and the start of their business. They had gone through some good, bad and worst times, sticking together all the way through
Maybe Fred wasn’t crazy when she told him about kyerumption…
Entry #4
Title: SLAYER LOVE LOGIC
Fandom: BUFFY
Pairing/Characters: BUFFY/SPIKE (FROM BUFFY'S P.O.V)
Summary: SEASON 6 DURING BUFFY AND SPIKE'S LITTLE FLING, IT IS BUFFY'S FEELINGS ABOUT SPIKE AND A LITTLE OF WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN GOING ON IN HER HEAD
Rating: I WOULD ERR ON THE SIDE OF CAUTION AND SAY PG-13
Warnings: SEXUAL SITUATIONS (OR METAPHORS FOR THEM ANYHOW) AND I ALSO MENTION BATTLE/BLOOD/DEATH
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS MENTIONED IN THIS POEM, I AM MERELY OBSESSED WITH THEM. JOSS WHEDON IS LORD AND MASTER OF ALL THE BUFFYVERSE, I HUMBLY PAY MEEK HOMAGE TO HIS BRAINCHILD BELOW.
Word Count: 385
Type:FREE VERSE POEM
Author's note: This is the first time i have ever written about the Buffyverse.
Deep inside me
where the fly in the logic ointment
lives with the insane troll,
i struggle with so many heavy emotions
and walk a threadbare tightrope of control.
Sometimes i feel defeated
even as i am thrusting the stake home,
seeing my chances at a normal life
flutter away with the ash motes
that sting my eyes in the quiet night.
I am swift, silent death on sure feet
yet you remain the only shadow
that can slowly creep up behind me,
and somehow take me off guard
electrifying me with need.
The only thing with enough strength
to pull me out of my selfish fugue
in which i try to hide,
is the ebb and flow of your former chivalrous soul
and being swept away by your peroxide tide.
There is no room for thinking
in your violent velvet crush
a different dance of hunter meeting hunted
that is much more frightening to me
than weapons or bloodshed.
Swimming in your feral flesh
unleashes unknown monsters inside me
and as they claw and roar
i realize in the darkness we make
i am discovering something more.
While i was at peace
and not there for my loved ones
you were their unrewarded protector,
counting down the days you missed me
behind all the swagger clad in black leather.
I've never been too great at good relationships,
Chosen ones are meant to be alone,
and every guy i'm with eventually leaves
so maybe that's why i can't deal
and i'm basking in letting us be.
Maybe you are more than convienient,
you don't judge or depend
you understand me like no one else
i cry on your dead shoulder about my life
and you have been through your own hells.
I could be afraid of living again
because of losing the things i do manage to feel
these are the words i won't tell my friends
because i'd rather figure out for myself first
if any part of it is pretend.
I feel like i'm fumbling into love's gut
i don't know when it snuck up and swallowed me whole
being damaged goods i don't know the price we'd have to pay for this,
so please understand if i change my mind
and prefer to dig my way out in strong slayer silence.
Fandom: BUFFY
Pairing/Characters: BUFFY/SPIKE (FROM BUFFY'S P.O.V)
Summary: SEASON 6 DURING BUFFY AND SPIKE'S LITTLE FLING, IT IS BUFFY'S FEELINGS ABOUT SPIKE AND A LITTLE OF WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN GOING ON IN HER HEAD
Rating: I WOULD ERR ON THE SIDE OF CAUTION AND SAY PG-13
Warnings: SEXUAL SITUATIONS (OR METAPHORS FOR THEM ANYHOW) AND I ALSO MENTION BATTLE/BLOOD/DEATH
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS MENTIONED IN THIS POEM, I AM MERELY OBSESSED WITH THEM. JOSS WHEDON IS LORD AND MASTER OF ALL THE BUFFYVERSE, I HUMBLY PAY MEEK HOMAGE TO HIS BRAINCHILD BELOW.
Word Count: 385
Type:FREE VERSE POEM
Author's note: This is the first time i have ever written about the Buffyverse.
Deep inside me
where the fly in the logic ointment
lives with the insane troll,
i struggle with so many heavy emotions
and walk a threadbare tightrope of control.
Sometimes i feel defeated
even as i am thrusting the stake home,
seeing my chances at a normal life
flutter away with the ash motes
that sting my eyes in the quiet night.
I am swift, silent death on sure feet
yet you remain the only shadow
that can slowly creep up behind me,
and somehow take me off guard
electrifying me with need.
The only thing with enough strength
to pull me out of my selfish fugue
in which i try to hide,
is the ebb and flow of your former chivalrous soul
and being swept away by your peroxide tide.
There is no room for thinking
in your violent velvet crush
a different dance of hunter meeting hunted
that is much more frightening to me
than weapons or bloodshed.
Swimming in your feral flesh
unleashes unknown monsters inside me
and as they claw and roar
i realize in the darkness we make
i am discovering something more.
While i was at peace
and not there for my loved ones
you were their unrewarded protector,
counting down the days you missed me
behind all the swagger clad in black leather.
I've never been too great at good relationships,
Chosen ones are meant to be alone,
and every guy i'm with eventually leaves
so maybe that's why i can't deal
and i'm basking in letting us be.
Maybe you are more than convienient,
you don't judge or depend
you understand me like no one else
i cry on your dead shoulder about my life
and you have been through your own hells.
I could be afraid of living again
because of losing the things i do manage to feel
these are the words i won't tell my friends
because i'd rather figure out for myself first
if any part of it is pretend.
I feel like i'm fumbling into love's gut
i don't know when it snuck up and swallowed me whole
being damaged goods i don't know the price we'd have to pay for this,
so please understand if i change my mind
and prefer to dig my way out in strong slayer silence.
Entry #5
Title: Tara – An amazing paradox
Fandom: Buffy
Character: Tara
Summary: A poem about Tara(no specific kind of poem)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Tara-. Even tough I want to. But not in the slave way. Okay, maybe a little bit in the slave way. I know, I'm bad, but don't worry, I'm seeing a professional.
Tara
Shy, brave
uncomfortable, beautiful
dead, but living forever in our hearts
A wonderful paradox
She denied a goddess
and I feel in love
Before, she was The Girlfriend
now, a hero
She meet a girl
-her willow tree-
feel in love
-so beautifully-
But the tree went greedy
stole her memory
Tara felt unsafe
used and lost
To save herself
she left
her broken heart the cost
Tara, our hero
choose to stand strong
Independent
but alone
Yet her light did not fade
It grew brighter
She still loved her tree
defended it
loved it
and one day
Joy
Happiness
Naked sexiness
The heroin and the tree
together
at last
A happily ever after
But then
”Your shirt”
Fandom: Buffy
Character: Tara
Summary: A poem about Tara(no specific kind of poem)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Tara-. Even tough I want to. But not in the slave way. Okay, maybe a little bit in the slave way. I know, I'm bad, but don't worry, I'm seeing a professional.
Tara
Shy, brave
uncomfortable, beautiful
dead, but living forever in our hearts
A wonderful paradox
She denied a goddess
and I feel in love
Before, she was The Girlfriend
now, a hero
She meet a girl
-her willow tree-
feel in love
-so beautifully-
But the tree went greedy
stole her memory
Tara felt unsafe
used and lost
To save herself
she left
her broken heart the cost
Tara, our hero
choose to stand strong
Independent
but alone
Yet her light did not fade
It grew brighter
She still loved her tree
defended it
loved it
and one day
Joy
Happiness
Naked sexiness
The heroin and the tree
together
at last
A happily ever after
But then
”Your shirt”
Entry #6
Title: Pagan Flames
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing/Characters: Willow/Tara
Summary: Tara healing Willow’s pain after Oz left her, and Willow discovered her heart within her soulmate. Written from Willow’s eyes.
Rating: G
Medium: Poetry – OPEN/Clerihew Style (Despite content) AABB Rhyme.
Warnings: Supernatural themes.
Disclaimer: Whedon owns these characters and all their awesomeness. I’m merely playing with them – no copyright intended!
Word Count: 126
Pagan Flames
Witching hour is creeping,
Through hearts of blossom beating.
The earth, wind and sea throw sighs.
I lose my Were; overcome in her eyes.
The shreds of grief show skin, abraised
But healing arms protect me, saved.
Shelter cast through Lethe & Bramble.
With a whisper of heat; extra-flamey candle.
Where once an empty wicked hole,
Replenished in love by a wiccan soul.
Truth incensed through eyes exquisite.
By spellful voice; darkness inhibit.
Burning aside the shadows, compel.
Enchanted, completely, under her spell.
By way of lips, peaceful wars,
She breathes eternally; “I am Yours.”
Encircled in hints of a gaian tryst.
My life in your palms, willed to exist.
Our hearts engraved, our beings one,
The eve of that night; love just begun.
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing/Characters: Willow/Tara
Summary: Tara healing Willow’s pain after Oz left her, and Willow discovered her heart within her soulmate. Written from Willow’s eyes.
Rating: G
Medium: Poetry – OPEN/Clerihew Style (Despite content) AABB Rhyme.
Warnings: Supernatural themes.
Disclaimer: Whedon owns these characters and all their awesomeness. I’m merely playing with them – no copyright intended!
Word Count: 126
Pagan Flames
Witching hour is creeping,
Through hearts of blossom beating.
The earth, wind and sea throw sighs.
I lose my Were; overcome in her eyes.
The shreds of grief show skin, abraised
But healing arms protect me, saved.
Shelter cast through Lethe & Bramble.
With a whisper of heat; extra-flamey candle.
Where once an empty wicked hole,
Replenished in love by a wiccan soul.
Truth incensed through eyes exquisite.
By spellful voice; darkness inhibit.
Burning aside the shadows, compel.
Enchanted, completely, under her spell.
By way of lips, peaceful wars,
She breathes eternally; “I am Yours.”
Encircled in hints of a gaian tryst.
My life in your palms, willed to exist.
Our hearts engraved, our beings one,
The eve of that night; love just begun.
Entry #7
Title: Tumbling Dice
Fandom: Angel
Characters: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Cyvus Vail
Summary: Wesley’s final thoughts and musings before his fight with Cyvus Vail in “Not Fade Away.”
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters.
Word Count: 698
Author's Note: Thanks Wes.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce knew he was going to die as soon as he first laid eyes on Cyvus Vail. Once he agreed to take on the warlock, Wesley had attuned himself to the magic’s, using a few incantations he had learned over the years. Opening himself up to the magical energy also made him more aware of the power of other magic users. When Wesley saw Vail, the frail demon’s power slammed into Wesley like an ice cold wave. It had taken all of his focus to not double over right there, as if he had been kicked in the gut. Now he sat across from the ancient warlock, trying to focus on the task at hand, knowing that in the end, this fight was already decided.
Wesley knew he was not powerful enough to win, but he still had a job to accomplish. If anything, he could buy the other’s time to make their kills and meet at the alleyway north of the Hyperion Hotel. Vail was limited physically, relying on various transfusions of blood to keep his tired body moving, Wesley could use that to his advantage if his magic was ineffective.
The decrepit wizard looked at Wesley from across the long wooden table. He was eating a soup of some kind, which Wesley thought looked like blood and maybe even human intestine. Stifling a grimace, the former Watcher waited for Vail to speak.
“I’m curious,” Vail started, slurping a spoonful of his soup, “Mmm. What makes you think I won’t kill you where you sit?”
Wesley had expected this, and although he knew Vail would kill him tonight, he still had to convince the demon to back off slightly. By choosing his words carefully, Wesley would be able to strike first. Earlier, Angel told Wesley that Vail had mentioned him by name at Angel’s meeting with the Circle of the Black Thorn. They knew about Wesley’s betrayal two years prior, which was the only reason he was allowed in the door in the first place, and a tool he could use.
“Because you’re smarter than the others.” Wesley began, his face content as he looked across the table. Vail wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin as Wesley continued. “Smart enough to have your doubts about Angel, and rightly so. He’s…unpredictable, and worse, he has a conscience.” Wesley finished, each word a piercing dagger into Vail’s defenses. He waited for the demon’s reply; he knew the moment he had to strike was fast approaching. The warlock’s brittle voice cut through the dining room.
“Well, you make a very persuasive argument,” Vail smirked.
This was it. The end. Wesley felt his hand warm as he began channeling energy into it. It was only a few hours ago that he raised that same hand in Angel’s office, vowing to give his life if it meant taking down the Circle. Vail’s intense magical presence still filled the room with tangible dread, and Wesley was further reminded of his promise, not only to Angel, but also to Illyria. He had told her that he didn’t intend to die tonight, that even though the love of his life was gone, he wanted to continue fighting.
Angel needed him. They needed him, and he was about to die. In this final moment, he realized that he hoped Illyria would not be too angry with him. Despite his desire to stay in this world and look after his only remaining link to Fred, he had to see this through. His right hand burned in agreement; it was ready to strike. He continued to stare at Cyvus Vail as a small flame began to spin outwards from his palm.
“Wait. It gets better.” Wesley countered, jumping to his feet and simultaneously sending the conjured fireball across the table. It smacked Vail in the chest, sending the decaying devil backwards and crashing to the floor.
Vail hadn’t even landed on the floor before Wesley could feel the warlock gathering his magic inward, preparing to strike. Wesley almost grinned, content that his final opponent would indeed win. He stepped forward, his hand already ablaze with a second fireball.
“Let’s get to work, shall we?”
Fandom: Angel
Characters: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Cyvus Vail
Summary: Wesley’s final thoughts and musings before his fight with Cyvus Vail in “Not Fade Away.”
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters.
Word Count: 698
Author's Note: Thanks Wes.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce knew he was going to die as soon as he first laid eyes on Cyvus Vail. Once he agreed to take on the warlock, Wesley had attuned himself to the magic’s, using a few incantations he had learned over the years. Opening himself up to the magical energy also made him more aware of the power of other magic users. When Wesley saw Vail, the frail demon’s power slammed into Wesley like an ice cold wave. It had taken all of his focus to not double over right there, as if he had been kicked in the gut. Now he sat across from the ancient warlock, trying to focus on the task at hand, knowing that in the end, this fight was already decided.
Wesley knew he was not powerful enough to win, but he still had a job to accomplish. If anything, he could buy the other’s time to make their kills and meet at the alleyway north of the Hyperion Hotel. Vail was limited physically, relying on various transfusions of blood to keep his tired body moving, Wesley could use that to his advantage if his magic was ineffective.
The decrepit wizard looked at Wesley from across the long wooden table. He was eating a soup of some kind, which Wesley thought looked like blood and maybe even human intestine. Stifling a grimace, the former Watcher waited for Vail to speak.
“I’m curious,” Vail started, slurping a spoonful of his soup, “Mmm. What makes you think I won’t kill you where you sit?”
Wesley had expected this, and although he knew Vail would kill him tonight, he still had to convince the demon to back off slightly. By choosing his words carefully, Wesley would be able to strike first. Earlier, Angel told Wesley that Vail had mentioned him by name at Angel’s meeting with the Circle of the Black Thorn. They knew about Wesley’s betrayal two years prior, which was the only reason he was allowed in the door in the first place, and a tool he could use.
“Because you’re smarter than the others.” Wesley began, his face content as he looked across the table. Vail wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin as Wesley continued. “Smart enough to have your doubts about Angel, and rightly so. He’s…unpredictable, and worse, he has a conscience.” Wesley finished, each word a piercing dagger into Vail’s defenses. He waited for the demon’s reply; he knew the moment he had to strike was fast approaching. The warlock’s brittle voice cut through the dining room.
“Well, you make a very persuasive argument,” Vail smirked.
This was it. The end. Wesley felt his hand warm as he began channeling energy into it. It was only a few hours ago that he raised that same hand in Angel’s office, vowing to give his life if it meant taking down the Circle. Vail’s intense magical presence still filled the room with tangible dread, and Wesley was further reminded of his promise, not only to Angel, but also to Illyria. He had told her that he didn’t intend to die tonight, that even though the love of his life was gone, he wanted to continue fighting.
Angel needed him. They needed him, and he was about to die. In this final moment, he realized that he hoped Illyria would not be too angry with him. Despite his desire to stay in this world and look after his only remaining link to Fred, he had to see this through. His right hand burned in agreement; it was ready to strike. He continued to stare at Cyvus Vail as a small flame began to spin outwards from his palm.
“Wait. It gets better.” Wesley countered, jumping to his feet and simultaneously sending the conjured fireball across the table. It smacked Vail in the chest, sending the decaying devil backwards and crashing to the floor.
Vail hadn’t even landed on the floor before Wesley could feel the warlock gathering his magic inward, preparing to strike. Wesley almost grinned, content that his final opponent would indeed win. He stepped forward, his hand already ablaze with a second fireball.
“Let’s get to work, shall we?”
Entry #8
Title: Questions
Fandom: Angel
Pairing/Characters: Wesley/Lilah
Summary: During Calvary, Wesley and Lilah have a conversation in Angel's office.
Rating: PG-13 - not suitable for under 13.
Warnings: Suggestive Dialogue
Disclaimer: I do not own Wesley or have a relationship with Lilah. (As much as I want to).
Word Count: 501
Author's Note: Thank you to two great actors.
Lilah Morgan paced around Angel's office, hand covering the wound where The Beast tried eviscerating her. She knew Wesley was watching her and kind of hoped he would come in. "I should have had these people killed years ago, it would have simpled my life up so much. All this petty little drama in the middle of an apocalypse? These people really are all idiots... and now I'm in the middle of it."
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce stood in the middle of the lobby, watching Lilah in Angel's office. "It's weird that the hotel is so empty, I don't think there have ever been so many people here. Angelus has brought out the worst in us, it's sickening what has happened. I think this was a mistake... Lilah." He walked towards the office.
"You felt that didn't you...?"
Lilah turned around and saw Wesley closing the door as he walked in. "The tension?" he continued.
"With a knife you could cut it," she replied sarcastically.
"She knows," Wesley said.
"She...?" Lilah smiled. "Ah, so Little Miss Dairy Queen finally found out your little secret. How? No wait, that's a dumb question. The "great" Angelus finally gutted the elephant in the room, didn't he? So, how does that make you feel?"
"Disgusting," Wesley answered. "Like something sick has crawled beneath my skin."
"Oh come on, Wes. By the sound of it you didn't deny the whole thing."
"No, I didn't, as much as I wanted to."
"Maybe try being a bit less dramatic then. To me that means you think it isn't that bad."
"Don't flatter yourself. You couldn't possibly know how this feels to me," Wesley said coldy. "Having this... thing with you, the enemy. I've betrayed my friends and the woman I -"
Lilah began to laugh. "Friends? You are joking right? Wesley, you're as much an outsider here as I am. These people aren't your friends, not anymore. And if the next word out of your mouth was 'love', you are one confused man. I was the one who was there for you. And where were your friends? I am the enemy, but that doesn't mean I didn't care. Besides, we both know it kinda turned you on."
"You were using me."
"And you're certain about that?"
"I..." Wesley stopped.
They both stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Lilah walked closer to Wesley. "I have questions," she told him.
"I can already guarantee you that I don't have the answers, as much as I'd like to." He looked away.
"It's about Angel and his soul." Wesley's eyes met Lilah's again. "Perfect happiness causes him to lose it, correct?"
"...Yes, with Buffy," he answered.
"Well, it got me thinking about what we have -"
"Had," Wesley interrupted.
"- had." Lilah smirked then paused for a second. "Did I ever make you happy? Is that what caused you to lose yours?" A look of sadness could be read across her face.
Wesley stared her. "...Not once." He turned around and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Yes, you did."
Staring at the door, Lilah Morgan wiped away a single tear.
Fandom: Angel
Pairing/Characters: Wesley/Lilah
Summary: During Calvary, Wesley and Lilah have a conversation in Angel's office.
Rating: PG-13 - not suitable for under 13.
Warnings: Suggestive Dialogue
Disclaimer: I do not own Wesley or have a relationship with Lilah. (As much as I want to).
Word Count: 501
Author's Note: Thank you to two great actors.
Lilah Morgan paced around Angel's office, hand covering the wound where The Beast tried eviscerating her. She knew Wesley was watching her and kind of hoped he would come in. "I should have had these people killed years ago, it would have simpled my life up so much. All this petty little drama in the middle of an apocalypse? These people really are all idiots... and now I'm in the middle of it."
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce stood in the middle of the lobby, watching Lilah in Angel's office. "It's weird that the hotel is so empty, I don't think there have ever been so many people here. Angelus has brought out the worst in us, it's sickening what has happened. I think this was a mistake... Lilah." He walked towards the office.
"You felt that didn't you...?"
Lilah turned around and saw Wesley closing the door as he walked in. "The tension?" he continued.
"With a knife you could cut it," she replied sarcastically.
"She knows," Wesley said.
"She...?" Lilah smiled. "Ah, so Little Miss Dairy Queen finally found out your little secret. How? No wait, that's a dumb question. The "great" Angelus finally gutted the elephant in the room, didn't he? So, how does that make you feel?"
"Disgusting," Wesley answered. "Like something sick has crawled beneath my skin."
"Oh come on, Wes. By the sound of it you didn't deny the whole thing."
"No, I didn't, as much as I wanted to."
"Maybe try being a bit less dramatic then. To me that means you think it isn't that bad."
"Don't flatter yourself. You couldn't possibly know how this feels to me," Wesley said coldy. "Having this... thing with you, the enemy. I've betrayed my friends and the woman I -"
Lilah began to laugh. "Friends? You are joking right? Wesley, you're as much an outsider here as I am. These people aren't your friends, not anymore. And if the next word out of your mouth was 'love', you are one confused man. I was the one who was there for you. And where were your friends? I am the enemy, but that doesn't mean I didn't care. Besides, we both know it kinda turned you on."
"You were using me."
"And you're certain about that?"
"I..." Wesley stopped.
They both stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Lilah walked closer to Wesley. "I have questions," she told him.
"I can already guarantee you that I don't have the answers, as much as I'd like to." He looked away.
"It's about Angel and his soul." Wesley's eyes met Lilah's again. "Perfect happiness causes him to lose it, correct?"
"...Yes, with Buffy," he answered.
"Well, it got me thinking about what we have -"
"Had," Wesley interrupted.
"- had." Lilah smirked then paused for a second. "Did I ever make you happy? Is that what caused you to lose yours?" A look of sadness could be read across her face.
Wesley stared her. "...Not once." He turned around and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Yes, you did."
Staring at the door, Lilah Morgan wiped away a single tear.