(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

[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.