(no subject)

[doyle]

Stolen from girlfromsouth:

Give me 1000 comments in this entry. Or whatever, really. YOU, in particular, don't have to supply the whole 1000, but a tiny contribution would be nice. Then let me know if you post this in your journal and I'll return the favor.

Dudes, so this is your chance to spam me with anything! Pictures, lyrics, the word SPAM over and over. Feel free to tell me something about yourself, or screen your comments. Do whatever you want! It's all up to you.

Okay, so I realise 1000 is a tall number so just spam away and we'll see where we get up to. Please entertain me!

Entertain me while I tackle inability to make words come out right and try to get some of these ficathon entries done... You could tell me what strange pairings you're into, since I've been thinking lots about unconventional shipping today. Or anything. Go on.

Also contemplating a game of tag where the first person writes a drabble - 100 words or less - with a pairing and a word or requirement at the end, and the next person writes that one. Might try to instigate a game of that later tonight if the ficathoning goes badly.

ETA: Okay, the drabble tag's here, come and play.

Comments

[rune-vampyr.livejournal.com]

Ah. No pairing after the last Devon drabble, so here's one of my current favs... Wes/Connor. It's been an age since I wrote *anything*, so be gentle with me :)

He believes that his yearning is mostly centered upon the slim lines of Connor's body, most particularly the lengthy expanse of smooth back that glides seamlessly over welcoming, slim hips. Long, coltish legs belie the strength within and he can almost feel them wrapped around him, squeezing tightly as the boy writhes beneath him in a frenzy of passion.

Or of course, it could be that the sins of the father really do pass on from generation to generation. And Wesley knows that whilst he can never have Angel, he can have the next best thing - his wicked, lustful son.

Next up...

Xander/Connor please :)

[knotted-rose.livejournal.com]

Connor knows what this "Alex" is, though he doesn't say anything about it.

He's a hero--warrior--fighter on the side of good--even if he looks desultory with his eye patch and shaggy hair. Even if he gives a false name as he slides a long inviting look over Connor's body.

Everybody lies.

Still, Connor goes with him. Learns other things about him--how sweet his sweat tastes, how his muscles tremor with passion, how quietly he moans when he comes.

The other warriors have passed away, so after their play Connor holds Alex all night, clutching what little goodness remains in the world.

Next up: Doyle/Angel

[rune-vampyr.livejournal.com]

Nicely done - I like :)

Ok... Doyle/Angel.

""""""""""""""""""""""""

From the beginning, Doyle’s sweet Irish lilt had set his head spinning and the blood rushing to his loins, partly down to conjured remembrances of past debaucheries prompted by his boys Celtic brogue and the decadent taste of strong liquor on his tongue. Angel pondered many faces, all wickedly used and long dead. But not by his hand. Hearts broken, innocence sullied, to be sure - but freely given.

Guilt free.

Doyle smelt of peat fires and Poteen. Making love to him was like coming home.

He had tasted like redemption. But his death tasted like Angel’s damnation all over again.

[rune-vampyr.livejournal.com]

Dammit, forgot the next pairing...

Angelus/Giles

[47-trek-47.livejournal.com]

On one hand was “turn the other cheek.” But on the other was “turnabout’s fair play.” Giles spent years trying to sort it all out, but in the end, he decided he simply didn’t care.

He waited until the chains were in place before he murmured the incantation, even if the vampire was unconscious. Better safe. That he still believed.

Angel’s soul, captured in a jar, glimmered.

And then the chained beast started awake and roared, feet scrabbling against smooth cement. “What the hell is this?”

Giles ran a hand down a cool, bare flank, and Angelus went still.

“Payback.”

---
Giles/Ethan

[sadbhyl.livejournal.com]

It's long. Forgive me.

The music was loud. The crowd was louder. The park was a milling mass of humanity, out to celebrate music and freedom and one of the few clear sunny days London had to offer.

Shirtless in the heat, Ripper had Ethan backed up against a tree, away from the eyes of the crowd, plundering Ethan’s mouth as he forced his hand past the waistband of Ethan’s leather pants to twist and stroke his erection hard. Ethan returned the favor, popping the top button of Ripper’s jeans to reach deep and fondle his balls.

Someone passing mumbled, “Get a room.”

Ripper turned and growled at them, gripping more tightly. When he turned back, he was pissed. “Just for that, you’re coming right here.”

Damn.

---
Ethan/Joyce

[mydeira.livejournal.com]

“Mom? Dawn? You guys here?”

Ethan froze. Of all days to visit home the slayer had to pick one when he was buried tongue-deep in her mother’s quim.

“Jesus, Ethan, don’t stop!” the aforementioned mother fixed him with a death glare.

He held her gaze levelly over the thatch of golden girls. “You do like to scream, quite loudly, my dear. I don’t fancy getting my ass kicked by Buffy because she thinks her mother is being murdered.”

“I don’t think it’s her you need to worry about at the moment, Ethan,” she said, her tone icy.

Knowing all too well not to cross that voice, “As you wish, Joyce, but it’s on your head if she kills me.”

~~~

Cordelia in the afterlife

[xionin.livejournal.com]

The best thing about being dead? Never a bad hair day.
Oh! And a wardrobe to die for – pun unavoidable.
The worst? The ‘blah’ of it all.

Not that eternal peace isn’t just swell, it is. And yay, no blinding headaches foretelling impending gore and doom. No evil lawyers, body-snatching demigods or polyester.

Nope.

Everything is perfectly…well, perfect, up in the fluffy whiteness of the great beyond.
Nothing for her to worry about at all, no siree. And she is so glad for that.

Only, the chocolate doesn’t taste the same.

And what she wouldn’t give for one more kiss.

[doyle_sb4.livejournal.com]

I'm a sucker for afterlife fics. This is lovely. Next character or pairing?

[xionin.livejournal.com]

oops...

willow/fred

;]

[esile.livejournal.com]

I figured I post it here too. Kind of keeping both threads going and doing my part in the 'I want a thousand posts' bit.

~
Until that moment Fred hadn't felt the loss of a real friend who was also a girl, correction a smart girl.

Cordelia was nice but not her friend. She didn't truly understand Fred or was even remotely interested in what Fred was all about. Which come to think of it is pretty much vice versa too.

And now that Willow was leaving again, Fred knew she was going to miss having someone to really talk to.

“I am already with somebody. Sorry?!”

Oh my, with somebody? She thought I wanted to? I could do that?

A smile crept over Fred’s face.
~

Willow / Xander

[doyle_sb4.livejournal.com]

Excellent, thanks!

Xander/Willow

[dodyskin.livejournal.com]

He looks at them and sees his father. He sees clenched fists and bitten-down nails and grinding manual labour. He uses them to hide behind; he scribbles a shield of not-really and I’m-kidding and it’s-not-serious and I’m-okay. He uses them to talk to the world he shapes with saws and screws. He uses them to cup gently, to cultivate, to help to have to hold on and hand over and clap yes and the only thing that ever stops them shaking is her. Hold on to her always; to let her go would be to have his hands cut off.

[jedi-penguin.livejournal.com]

Trekker already beat me to this, but this pairing was bugging me all through dinner. I wrote it in my head, and after spending almost twenty minutes beating an extra five words out of it, I have to post it.


It wasn’t personal. It was a physiological reaction, one outside his control.

He’d played too many dominance games in his twenties. His body was well trained to react to pain. (Too well, perhaps.) It was thinking of Ethan, or Diedre, or a dozen other Doms from his checkered past. Not of this creature. Never of him.

“So, you like that, do you Rupes?” A hand groped the tent in his trousers, cold even through the fabric. “Can’t have that now.” Angelus threw away his flogger, instrument of damnable pleasure, and grabbed Giles’ fingers. “Let’s see what this does for you.”


No pairing; look to Trekker for Giles/Ethan

[sadbhyl.livejournal.com]

I hope I'll do instead . . .

---

They weren’t children anymore.

Now when Ethan came to his bed, they both were fully aware of the ramifications.

When their mouths came together, they spoke of experience both of them had gained in their twenty years apart.

Hands explored bodies no longer young and hard, muscles now hidden under the softer layers of age.

The feelings were different now, too. The rage was gone, all the youthful frustration and resentment that they had taken out on each other.

What was left was understanding. And a reminder of how far they had both come.

---
Dru/Ethan, please!