Wesley!!! Lilah!!! The eternal star-crossed lovers, sigh. Fred was make-do.
Book ,'Objects In Space'
Buffista Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies
Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
Ooh, how tasty.
Wesley!!! Lilah!!! The eternal star-crossed lovers, sigh. Fred was make-do.
Heh. Well, as you were the one to call it earlier that it was Wes in Ethan's room--and isn't THAT the stuff of slash?--I'm glad you're enjoying his reveal.
Ooh, how tasty.
Thank ya. More to come.
Wesley the intriguingly unstable! Wesley of the scary laugh!
Oh, how I miss him. Such a lucious character development over six years. From utter dork to seriously scary.
Oh, how I miss him. Such a lucious character development over six years. From utter dork to seriously scary.
Scary enough to unnerve Marcie--now that's scary.
ETA: Plus, he has big plans. Heh.
cheers
This is SO much fun. Go Victor!
For the Open on Sunday 'Journeys' drabble challenge:
Always Coming Home.
Home means red hair; the sharp curve of a freckled shoulder blade; a blazing smile. Oz has travelled more miles than he can count, he has drunk tsuica in the Carpathians and mint tea in Fez; he has learned a slow, painful mastery of the wildness in his blood and now he's come full circle, salmon-urgent, never questioning that this is the time and the place he's been travelling towards.
Here. Now. Her.
Willow's face is eggshell pale in the moonlight, fragile and unspeakably precious as understanding belatedly dawns.
Oz feels joy flaring up under his skin. Nothing is impossible.
Part Twenty-Four: Gods and shadows
Dawn stared slack-jawed at the visage of her sister standing before her, next to Doc. The way she folded her arms and cocked her head, her posture and the way her hair fell along her shoulders—it was all perfect. It was a lie.
“You’re not my sister,” said Dawn, and then realization fell on her like a sudden thunderstorm, and her bones near-cracked from chilling. “I know who you are.”
“What, you’re not going to say my name, bitch?” said the thing wearing Buffy’s face.
“The First.”
“Yes.” Doc chuckled. “Yes, the First and I have come to a small arrangement. I get a small modicum of power, enough to resurrect the Beast, and it gets a new army of soldiers to replace the ones the slayer broke.”
“You mean us,” said Dawn, spitting the words.
“No, honey,” said the First. “You get to be a sacrifice.”
“Again,” said Dawn, trying to sound braver than she felt. “That trick never works.”
“It will this time,” said the First. “I can no longer act in your world, but certain rituals allowed me to grant old Doc here power over things that go bump in the night. If it’s touched by evil, Doc can control it. And by borrowing some of Illyria’s ambient power, he can bend time to find the points in history when they were touched.”
“Everybody’s touched by evil, said Doc. “But not everybody’s truly immersed in it, and I’m afraid it takes a certain immersion for this power to be truly effective.”
“So that’s why Willow’s the wicked witch again and Xander’s possessed by a hyena spirit again?” said Oz.
“Bingo,” said Doc.
“But what about Giles?” asked Oz. “He was pretty wild, but he wasn’t really evil.”
“Giles?” said Doc. “Oh, I’m sorry. You misunderstand. This isn’t Rupert Giles, is it Ripper?”
Giles’ face shook and contorted, growing narrower and Reptilian.
“Eyghon,” said Dawn. “The demon’s name was Eyghon.”
“Doc tells me that the slayer and the vampire with a soul managed to destroy me,” said Ripper. “But guess what kids? I’m back, and I’m bad.”
“But wait,” said Amy, who’d been listening quietly until this time. “If you’re draining Illyria’s power…”
“You catch on quick,” said Doc. “Yes, it’s my draining of Illyria’s energies that’s endangering the time pocket. Soon, it will wear though the dimensional walls, allowing gods and old ones and the like long bound from Earth to walk it again. In that moment, we’ll sacrifice the Key and the sire of Jasmine’s mortal form, and the time-lost remains of Illyria’s essence, and use the power from that to resurrect Glorificus.”
“We need you, Dawnie, because you’re tied to Glory, even if you don’t do anything spectacular anymore,” said the First, now walking between the chained prisoners and inspecting them. “Not that you ever did, babe. And it’s never a one for one trade with resurrecting gods. We need to sever two gods’ connections to the mortal plane before we can bring one back. Jasmine and Illyria seemed to be the ones that would object the least. Plus, it hurts you people, which-let me tell you--bonus.”
“But first things first,” said Doc, stepping beside the First. “The dimensional walls are thinning, and we’ll have company soon.”
Doc raised his right hand, and a dark, nebulous energy swirled around it. Justine, chained stoically felt a wash of loss and depression wash over her. Her shoulders slumped, and suddenly, she was filled with a mindless rage. Amy was consumed by an overwhelming anger and jealousy and her eyes turned jet black in rage. Oz convulsed, the wolf stealing his form so rapidly it hurt. Doc snapped his fingers, and the three were released. They stood with Faith, Xander and Willow, now part of Doc’s growing army.
Doc looked off in the distance, where a light shimmered and faded.
“They’re here,” said Doc. “It’s show time.”
This week's Open on Sunday challenge was "food/eating".
So....
At the Moment of Angel's Death (the title speaks for itself)
She picks the bits out of the ice cream, soft chewy nuggets of cookie dough in the bulky container, caught between her fingertips.
memory, is it a memory, the two of them snuggling close in a bed in a warm place, laughing, Angel running naked across the floor, coming back with a container of ice cream, dripping it on him, licking it off his nipple, is it a memory oh God
Buffy's hands begin to tremble.
An old spell suddenly wears off, and she suddenly understands the loss that must have led to this moment, what must have just happened.
deborah, that's really good.