Crazydiamondsue's Muddle of Nervous Words

FIC: Better Together

2006-12-03T17:44:29Z

Title: Better Together
Characters: Xander, Buffy, Willow, Dawn
Notes: BtVS Season 5, between “Listening to Fear” and “Into the Woods.” Xander’s birthday. (By the reckoning my own internalized canon.) Somewhat inspired by liz_marcs's "snot monster from outer space" icon. Fluffy-esque with Season 5 overtones of angst. As usual, mostly dialogue. And, written in an hour tonight. Okay, I'll shut up with the provisos.
For: adis723 (who will not see this but through email due to internet limitations) for her birthday. Which was yesterday. Oops.

Better Together

FIC: Welcome to the Wheels-O-Rama

2006-07-05T05:11:30Z

Title: Welcome to the Wheels-O-Rama
Author: crazydiamondsue
Pairing: Buffy/Angel
Rating: PG-13 (probably)
Notes: Written for stoney321’s Gud Summaries Fic-a-thon based on the prompt: Buffy’s a skater, Angel's a skater and Riley turned into a dip despite my best efforts to the contrary.
Warnings: Absolute, utter to-the-bottom-of-the-pipe crack. Blatant use of anachronisms, tongue-in-cheek canon poking and unnecessary 70s/80s song lyrics – possibly as dialogue. Un-betaed. Possibly incomprehensible if you don't remember 1980s roller rinks.

Part One

Fic-a-Thon Dates?

2006-05-24T21:54:06Z

I know that fic-a-thon is a word most of you don't want hear again any time soon (especially those of you still working on your lynnevitational fics) but entrenous88 and I have an awesome idea for a fic-a-thon. Okay, it's probably been done before (there's nothing new under Spike's bum) but...what I need to know is what the fandom calendar looks like this summer.

The B/A ficathon hosted by leni_ba fics are due on June 30

The Gud Summries ficathon hosted by stoney321 fics are due on July 4

The Buffyverse Between the Seasons ficathon hosted by karabair fics are due June 26

And writercon is July 21-23

Does anyone know of any other Buffyverse fic-a-thon due dates? Anything, say, in early August? Thanks for any help!

FIC: Sunday Morning Coming Down 17/17

2006-05-21T13:37:25Z

Title: Sunday Morning Coming Down
Author: crazydiamondsue
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17, overrall
Summary: Post BtVS "The Gift." Xander struggles to come to terms with the resurrection spell in light of the reality of Buffy's death and his changing feelings for Spike.
Notes: Written for the lynnevitational and as a very belated birthday gift to dovil
Thanks: Beta by adis723. Special thanks to Yin, Andrea, Kathy, Laura and Caza for many, many things.
Previous Parts: here

Conclusion

herald_reader @ 2006-05-04T11:52:00

2006-05-04T16:55:09Z

Lazy Sunday
Willow, Xander & Buffy
Season 3, just after graduation
Just a short bit of nuthin', written for tinpanalley 'cause she makes me smile.

Lazy Sunday

“Wednesday all-you-can-eat Jell-O.”

Willow stopped attempting to force the tip of her tongue inside her straw and looked at Xander. “That’s what you’re going to miss most about high school? Cafeteria food?”

“Hey, unlike some of us who had the option of brown-bagging every day but pizza day, others may have enjoyed the novelty of deep-fried fish sticks as opposed to the at home microwaved variety.” Xander didn’t bother to look up but instead occupied himself by chasing the cherry at the bottom of his cup through the sludge of melting slushie.

Willow flipped over onto to her stomach. “Buffy?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know that I have the cred to weigh the decrease of yuck between deep fried versus microwaved frozen fish parts.”

“No, I mean your turn.”

Buffy rolled over onto her back and let her head fall into the curve of Willow’s knee. Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to remember the categories they’d already chosen. “Oh. Um…biggest disappointment.”

Xander snorted. “Sex.”

“Xander!” Willow quickly jerked the straw from her mouth before Xander could give her a well deserved ‘say it, don’t spray it.’ “Ladies present,” she giggled in mock horror. “Way to be gentlemanly.”

Xander pinned the cherry down and impaled it on his straw. He nibbled around its edges, shrugging. “I had sex with Faith – how gentlemanly am I required to be?”

“Good point. Dish - I bet her legs weren’t shaved all the way, huh?” Willow poked a toe into Buffy’s ribs and then ignored the jalapeño flinging that earned her.

Xander kept his eyes on his straw, digging through the ice in case this was a rare two cherry slushie. “Big build up, couldn’t live up to the hype, all kind of a blur,” he said quickly.

Willow smirked, and then turned her head to look into Buffy’s bedroom mirror to see if it looked like a smirk. It didn’t; but that could have been the jalapeño juice in her eye. “Oh, believe the hype,” she said, “I mean, I …” her brain caught up with her mouth and she glanced over at Buffy.

Buffy’s smile was sad, but it was a smile. “A world of regret, yes, but disappointment? No.”

Willow’s attempted smirk grew into a huge grin. “Big no.”

“Okay, that’s so not fair,” Xander muttered.

“Why not fair?” Buffy and Willow said together, and then gave each other ‘jinx’ rib tickles.

Xander set his cup on the floor next to the bed and stretched out next to them, his gaze earnest. “Okay, as a chance to establish my manliness, it was definitely not up there with my shining moments, and as a whole…physical experience thing, well…” He coughed. “I mean, mine was just kind of a variation on a theme – a massively more exciting variation but you get me. But you guys, you had to to deal with…” He chuckled nervously. “And then there’s, you know, an ick factor…”

Buffy closed her eyes, Xander’s t-shirt covered shoulder warm against her side, Willow’s leg cool and silky beneath her cheek as she relaxed into the mattress. “Xander, say ‘hymen’ and become one with the floor.”

FICLET: ...There's Fire

2006-04-06T02:49:16Z

Title: ...There's Fire
Author: crazydiamondsue
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: PG-13-ish
Notes: Late AtS Season 5, post-coital banter, 1000 words of smoking kink.
Other stuff: Thanks to stoney321 for the read-through; written for entrenous88 for her BIRTHDAY! She asked long ago for Spike/Angel and smoking, it's since sat on my harddrive in various incarnations.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you do that,” Spike said as his fingers left his lips, sending streams of smoke to twist and spin, blending in the air with Angel’s. He dipped his head, his lips curling slightly. “Sure the soul’s okay with it?”

Angel closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply again. “Been a while since I have.” The smoke hit the back of his throat and he shuddered lightly. He rubbed his thumb against the filter tip and imagined it falling, sparking, a line of fire as it raced across a concrete floor. Flames licking up slim, white legs that glowed ghostly pale in its path, eager to burn. “Flesh on fire - lit up the sky,” he murmured, his head tilting back, eyes opening and staring up into smoke-filled dimness.

Spike’s eyes narrowed in confusion and he shifted restlessly, his legs tangled in the sheets. “Well, you just get darker and darker, don’t you?”

“What’s the matter, Spike?” Angel chuckled, rolling over, the cigarette lax between the fingers that trailed down Spike’s bare chest. He turned his head away as ash skittered across Spike’s flesh, glancing instead to the floor, where below them Wesley and Gunn paced, their weapons in hand, more imagined than heard. “Sent you to sooth the savage beast, didn’t they?”

“I’m not your bloody geisha,” Spike snorted. He huffed at the ashes and sparks scattering across his chest and then watched with not a little satisfaction as an ember melted a perfectly round hole through the silk sheets pooling below Angel’s hips.

“I didn’t say you were,” Angel answered. “But then, you were the one with the thing for Asia.” His thumbnail scraped against Spike’s nipple as he brought the cigarette to his mouth again. Smoke curled from his lips to Spike’s as he leaned closer. “I would have said tavern wench.”

Spike’s tongue darted out, just tasting the smoky richness of Angel’s mouth, and then he turned away. Ruining the moment, or making it, whatever Angel needed this to be. “Shut up and smoke,” he sighed, ignoring the choice of meanings behind Angel’s half-smile. “Christ, give you the one thing you’re allowed to brood while doing and you decide to get chatty.”

Angel grunted softly and fell back against the bare mattress, the sheets, pillows - all the gilded cage comforts Spike had both mocked and envied - scattered and torn by eager hands. Hands far steadier, calmer now, lifting to two sets of lips as they smoked silently for a moment. Eyes focused away from each other, falling instead to the sheets that crumpled around their hips, the torn window blinds that gave glimpse of the darkening night sky, the discarded clothes that piled together on the floor, connecting all the dots to Angel’s bed.

“Haven’t seen you do this in a while, either, Spike,” Angel said quietly.

Spike’s gaze rose from tracing the shadows, the canyons, the bloody mountains' majesties Angel’s hips were creating in the drape of the sheet. His lips quirked, tongue faster than thought as he prepared to illustrate all the times and ways he’d done this very thing, without Angel’s participation or permission, and then the words died away as he found Angel’s gaze back on the cigarette in his hand.

Spike exhaled harshly, pinching the burned down tip and then flinging the ashed-out butt onto a bedside table. “Well, you try burnin’ up from the inside and see how bloody eager you are to hold a flame to your face.”

“Doesn’t really make sense for us, does it?” Angel asked, considering the dimming tip of his own cigarette.

“Unlike this Black Thorn plan of yours, which is the Acathla 2004 of great ideas,” Spike nodded. He darted away as Angel sat up, cigarette poised to make Spike his vampire ashtray again. “It’s just smoking, mate,” Spike said quickly. “We’re vampires, yeah? That which does not kill us…” he reached for his lighter, the flame flaring at his lips as he lit another smoke, “…makes us look hotter.”

Angel snorted in response and a priceless piece of imported object d’Wolfram and Hart became an actual ashtray as he ground ashes into it. “Always did like to feel the burn, huh, Spike?” He plucked the lighter out of Spike’s hands, turning it over in his and feeling its aged smoothness, the pattern long since worn. “Cities in flame. Rooms in candlelight.” His thumb worked over a groove in the lighter’s base. “Slayers in arms. Can’t stay away from it.”

Spike looked at him steadily over the smoke leaving his lips. “Drawn to it, aren’t we? To the flame. Like a couple of bloody moths.” Chuckling, he grinned down at Angel. “Just a couple of fireflies…or fairies…” he coughed. “Or dragons, maybe.” He shrugged. “Somethin’ with wings.”

Angel settled back into the bed again, bare body just brushing Spike’s. “That’s your death wish, Icarus,” Angel said, his eyes narrowing, heavy with sleep in the smoky haze. “I was always kind of into tempting fate with cathedrals and crucifixes, myself.”

They were quiet for a moment; the soundlessness of breathless smoking, as illogical, as unimaginable, as Spike’s seeming serenity as he waited for Angel to lose this calm. Waited for the smoke settling to become unsettling, and whatever soothing he’d done to be driven away by thoughts of the mission. The past. Or Angel’s grim visions of their future, fueled in flames.

“I always kind of regretted that, though,” Angel said suddenly, his head restless against Spike’s shoulder.

“You? With regrets? Shudder to think,” Spike muttered.

“That vampires couldn’t fly,” Angel said as if Spike hadn’t spoken. “You know, the hard-to-kill thing hasn’t turned out too bad, and never having to worry about losing my hair…” Angel shrugged. “Flying, though…” he sighed quietly. “Would have been a big perk.”

Spike glanced over to where two dusters billowed over a chair, sleeves and tails entwined in a gloriously obscene embrace of leather. “Well, at least we've got the coats.”

Angel’s hand curled around Spike’s, drawing the cigarette to his lips and teasing Spike’s palm with his tongue. “Yeah. There’s that.”

-END-

L.A. Times Jane Espenson article

2006-03-30T19:54:49Z

Possibly already posted all over fandom, but here is a transcription of former Buffy writer Jane Espenson's article on how to create real female role models on TV: by making them real.

How to Succeed at Vampire Slaying and Keep Your Soul
By Jane Espenson (LA Times)
March 20, 2005

I've been a television writer for a dozen years, and I've been fortunate to put words in the mouths of some great female characters. They've been working women, mostly, and I like to think they've become role models for a generation of girls trying to figure out their futures.

But let's be honest: TV isn't going to change anyone's perceptions of working women in the real world just by promoting fictional females to ever-higher positions of authority. And I'm not doing my job if I put a woman's career before her character.

Deciding what a character does for a living on a TV show is often a matter of convenience. "What if we had a set where Ellen could meet her friends other than in her house?" a writer might ask. "How about, um, a bookstore? A coffee shop? A bookstore with a coffee shop in it?"

Other times, the career is so tied to the character that they are really one and the same. It's hard to say where Buffy Summers ends and "The Vampire Slayer" begins, for example. Television's early working women were gender-cast as maids — Hazel, Alice from "The Brady Bunch" — secretaries, nurses and teachers. The women who had settled into long-term careers — Jane Hathaway on "The Beverly Hillbillies," Sally Rogers on "The Dick Van Dyke Show" — regretted not having found themselves a good man instead. The exceptions, even small ones, stood out. I remember watching an episode of "Leave It to Beaver," already in reruns and looking ancient in its plucky black-and-white. I had never, in all my 11 years, seen a female principal. I actually remember the exhilarating "Oh, girls can do that" feeling.

Children are the world's most ardent traditionalists. They like things stable and categorized. They want to know what girls can do and what girls can't do. Television, like it or not, teaches them a lot of these rules. Diahann Carroll's nurse on "Julia" and communications officer Uhura on "Star Trek" weren't just important for African American girls. They were important for the rest of us too. And even though I understood that simpering, Jethro-grabbing Miss Hathaway was supposed to be a pathetic figure, the tightly crimped power she seemed to have at the bank was certainly impressive.

In the '70s, things changed. Mary Richards' job as a TV news producer was more than something to do until she married. And then single working mom Ann Romano of "One Day at a Time" and waitress Alice Hyatt of "Alice" came along. These were the "woman but" shows — as in "She's a woman, but she works!"

Heavy-handed? Oh dang, Skippy, they could be heavy-handed. When societal shifts dictate storytelling, you end up with your star pouring coffee in her lecherous boss' lap as the audience hoots in solidarity. But these shows made their point, and we came out the other side with a more balanced television landscape. Finally a woman could work without writers having to point a big neon sign at her (now we just point those at gay characters).

Today the percentage of female judges, college professors and detectives seen on television is a pretty good reflection of the actual world. (In the case of judges, I wouldn't be shocked to find out the number on television exceeds the number in real life — what is it about those black robes that makes us think ovaries?)

But merely thrusting more women into more prestigious on-screen jobs doesn't necessarily make the working world a better place for women. If you were to show people images of two real-life professionals, one a man, one a woman, and ask them to rate their competence knowing nothing but job and gender — I bet people still give the guys the edge.

It's not television's fault, exactly. But television can help fix the problem. Not by writing women into better professions, but by more accurately showing them as complex people contending with the sort of snide, generous, ambitious, incompetent, sad and hilarious co-workers who populate real workplaces.

Lorelai Gilmore of "Gilmore Girls" manages her own business, an inn, despite a lack of formal education. That's not what makes her feel real, though. Viewers love Lorelai because of her human foibles — and the way she loves her daughter. That's why they can imagine her as someone with a life — and lifework — that continues even when the camera doesn't happen to be pointed at her.

Back in my sitcom days on "Ellen," we writers had a puzzle. Star Ellen DeGeneres' character, who had just come out as a lesbian, was unemployed as we began the show's final season. We made a few halfhearted attempts to put her into a career. (Remember her stint as a radio host? No? Just as well.)

The thing was, we knew that giving her a job was not what we were there to do. She lived that last year with freedom and humor and grace. She dated, she found a girlfriend, she struggled with her self-identity. Viewers judged her not by her job, or lack of one, but by the content of her character.

It's true you don't worry about the mortgage quite as much when you're fictional. But anybody who conjured Ellen's resolve and basic decency would be well on the way to success as a nurse, teacher, bookstore-coffee shop manager/radio host, judge or sitcom writer.

Then there's Buffy, the teenage "vampire slayer." A woman warrior, she refused to answer to her profession's stuffy, male-dominated Counsel of Watchers. She had the power, she reasoned, and that gave her the authority to decide how to use it. She didn't figure it out overnight or without a struggle, but after seven TV years, she had learned how to make it in the graveyard.

I can't make real-life workplaces safer and more fair for women just by showing them with briefcases or crossbows. But I can try to grant my characters the quirky gift of humanity — whether they're adjudicating torts or dishing tortes or saving the world. And hope the little girls watching do the rest.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jane Espenson, a TV writer and producer, has worked on "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," "Gilmore Girls" and many other shows. She is co-executive producer of "The Inside," a Fox TV show scheduled for the fall.

Original article: here, free registration required.

Crap!

2006-03-30T16:40:18Z

I keep forgetting I have a fandom journal.

Thoughts on how TV (especially this week's "House," "Bones" and "Veronica Mars") have made me feel stupid are here at my personal journal.

*SPOILERS* for this week's House, Bones, and VM. If you want to check out my lameness, there's an LJ cut for the individual shows - or you can peek through fingers 'till you get to the one you want and skip the others - titles are bold. :)

PIMP

2006-03-29T22:16:24Z

How do those movie trailers go? "Once in a while, a movie comes a long that changes the way we feel and opens our eyes and our hearts..." Followed by a shot of Steve Martin and kidlets and us changing the channel.

This is fic is actually one of those fics that comes along and makes you go..."Huh." Possibly guh. Challenges the way we see 'ships and stretches us into ones we don't tend to see (or wish to.)

Deflate by ladycat777, NC-17

It's Spike/Buffy. It's Spike/Xander. It winks at Xander/Buffy. It's none of them, really. It's not a threesome; it's supposed to be a kinky voyeur fic. It's a lot more than that. It's Xander's betrayal and loyalty, Spike's self-indulgence and selfless tenacity, it's Buffy's self-destruction and, well, if not redemption, release.

And it's a PWP.

It's a mystery, really.

Su_Herald Info

2006-03-27T20:41:11Z

Hi all,

Just a quick note that I have stepped down as an editor for the su_herald. I will be keeping this journal as my fandom reading journal and fic posting (should that ever occur) but it's no longer associated with the su_herald (other than when I'm serving as a back-up editor, or should the other editors wish to use it as a search resource.)

Defriending amnesty all around - I'll be flist trimming at some point, mainly communities I'm not into and journals that are no longer Buffyverse - but I'd like to thank all of you so much for your help in making my stint as an su_herald editor fun and educational - you're totally PlaySkool like that.

Regionally Speaking...

2006-02-13T01:00:41Z

Couple of regionally fannish questions I've been pondering lately...upon watching "Shaun of the Dead" (go with me, this gets Buffyverse) I looked it up on www.imdb.com to check out some deets. I ran across a review that stated that, while the movie was good, it wouldn't translate well to non-Londoners (this was posted before SoD did so well in the states) and that caused me to wrinkle my forehead in perplextion. Granted I'm a bit of an Anglophile, and yes, there could have been pointed references that I missed, but over all I thought it translated well. And then I started thinking...

Was there anything in particular about "Buffy" or "Angel" that didn't (initially) translate? Joss created such a specific language (for Buffy especially) that there was a learning curve for even the Americans (I know, I know, Canadians, you too!) in the audience. Are there any challenges for you in creating similar scenarios in fic?

Were there any references that threw you off? Theme, tone, quips, expressions or Americanisms that were unfamiliar from previous shows? I ask this because after a day of "Shaun of the Dead," "Coupling" and "Manchild" viewing - I find the one English thing that *always* throws me is the reverse driver's seat thing. I'll see an English character sitting in a vehicle and think, "Why are they in the passenger seat?" Then I get a clue and kick myself.

So...anything? Or, for English fans, were there any liberties taken with the shows' English characters that made you grit your teeth and dash off a note that read, "No one says 'wank off' - even in English!" (That's a specific reference I've seen again recently.)

I was also wondering, after reading nwhepcat's Spokane-set Lilac City (a location nwhpecat was greatly familiar with) - have you ever set a fic - future, AU, etc. - in your home city? (Excepting, of course, Los Angeles and London - canon settings - and those of you who have Sunnydale drivers licenses. Cleveland, Oxnard and Arashmahar, however, are still acceptable answers.)

I set Rodeo in Oklahoma after I offered to write a Buffyverse cowboy AU because a) I don't really know anything about actual working cowboys - I grew up in a "resort" area and am now a city girl and b) the Gay Rodeo Finals are often held in Oklahoma City (er, you'll just have to trust that I made that work. Somehow.)

Have you had occasion to set a fic in your area? I know of a couple of examples other than "Lilac City" - I've read fic set in Pittsburgh, Atlanta and San Francisco by writers who live there - where else?

Which story? And why did you chose your hometown? Did you find that it proved more challenging or actually added depth to the fic?

Thanks for any answers - I'm off now to continue googling things about Scotland for a Xangel story. No, not one involving gay rodeo. :)

BtVS/AtS Cast Birthdays

2006-02-08T23:38:00Z

This is just for my reference, and I'm sure that anyone interested in these would already have them but in any case -

January 8 - Amber Benson (Tara)
January 11 - Marc Blucas (Riley)
January 24 - Stephanie Romanov (Lilah)
February 8 - Seth Green (Oz)
February 20 - Anthony Stewart Head (Giles)
February 25 - Alexis Denisof (Wesley)
March 14 - Mercedes McNab (Harmony)
March 24 - Alyson Hannigan (Willow)
March 30 - Juliet Landau (Drusilla)
April 8 - Emma Caulfield (Anya)
April 12 - Nicholas Brendon (Xander)
April 14 - Sarah Michelle Gellar (Buffy)
April 17 - Kristine Sutherland (Joyce)
May 1 - Julie Benz (Darla)
May 5 - Vincent Kartheiser (Connor)
May 16 - David Boreanaz (Angel)
May 28 - Glenn Quinn (Doyle)
June 6 - Danny Strong (Jonathan)
June 16 - Tom Lenk (Andrew)
June 23 - Joss Whedon (GOD)
June 27 - Christian Kane (Lindsey)
July 6 - Adam Busch (Warren)
July 23 - Charisma Carpenter (Cordy)
August 4 - Andy Hallett (Lorne)
August 20 - James Marsters (Spike)
August 28 - J. August Richards (Gunn)
October 11 - Michelle Trachtenberg (Dawn)
October 25 - Sarah Thompson (Eve)
December 5 - Amy Acker (Fred)

(Birthday info from www.imdb.com)

Kickstart My Recs of Your Recs

2006-01-30T17:35:11Z

After receiving all of the kind "Kickstart My Heart" recs, I decided that as I read them, I would write public "review/rec" posts as both a rec service and as a lame "See! I did too read them!" check-me-out strategy.

Then I quickly realized I was insane. First of all, I realized I couldn't possibly offer thoughtful analysis on *that* many stories. Secondly, what if I didn't enjoy the story? Add to that - what if I didn't enjoy the story not so much for its composition, but for its content? Who cares if I'm not a sub/dom, or a daddy!kink or an Ethan Rayne 'shipper? Many people happily are.

So then I decided to pick one story that really spoke to me and get thinky, and then list a few others that jumped out for one reason or another. I'm sort of reading in chronological order (as pimped), but I'm trying to mix in some one-shots with the multi-chaps (I would have had more time to read if someone - *cough*elcazavampiros*cough* - hadn't needed the computer to try to get Sim!Giles a promotion.)

Okay - enough rambly, more rec-y:

Lilac City 1: The Loner by nwhepcat: Xander/Faith, Ensemble, Original Characters, R

Grief had an immediacy in the Buffyverse. Tears rolled down Willow's cheeks, pooled in Buffy's eyes, Giles dipped his head and Xander's jaw tightened. The camera pushed in, the music swelled or faded and the scene changed.

And then we got an action reaction - Willow sprouted veins and tried to end the world; Buffy skewered Angel with a kiss; Giles set fire to an old factory and Xander...well, Xander made a quip about the loss of Starbucks and stared one-eyed into a sinkhole. But the camera didn't push in on his lack of action, because this one wasn't about what he had lost, but about what Buffy had regained.

And that's why I love fanfic.

Sometimes grief doesn't take any action. It gets internalized and everything else - cause, beliefs, the "why" - gets buried with it.

Xander, "Lilac City": "There's a certain allotted time you get for grieving. If you run over, you'd better keep it to yourself."

This is Xander, five years past "Chosen." He's past the allotted time he's allowed himself, much less what he feels everyone else has allotted him. Newly sober, but everything else is old. And then he meets Willa. (Excellent references on the name choice, including Eudora Welty and George Sands.)

"What happened to your eye?" she asks abruptly. The conversational defibrillator paddles.

"A guy gouged it out with his thumb."

She sucks in her breath, looks a little green. That's the risk of using the electroshock. Sometimes you get a little hit of it yourself.

nwhepcat's writing is all in the details. The little things that made the Buffyverse brilliant - song lyrics, literary references, immediate and arcane pop culture terms that made the dialogue and the setting come alive. I don't see that often in fanfic - that level of craft in world building. Sometimes it coasts by on snappy dialogue, tight characterization and a dash of well-worded smut if it's that kind of fic, but very rarely the type of wordcraft that causes you to re-read sentences to let it all soak in. Oh, and the dialogue? It snaps:

Willow: "Your life's going to waste -- you're going to waste, and I hate seeing it."

Xander: "Nobody's making you watch."

Insight - and since we're in Xander's POV, insight filtered through Xander's references:

"If your philosophy can be boiled down to a slogan, I'm thinking it's not so much of a philosophy. Not, I hasten to add, that it's worthless for people who respond to that sort of thing. It's just -- well, the wisest guy I know would pull a dozen books off his shelf, minimum, before he'd answer a question."

Xander's addiction and what he's too honest to call a recovery made me think of his pattern of addiction. Oh, sure, we got the alcoholic dad, the foreshadowing during and after "Hells Bells" that he would end up "coming by it honest" but it also made me think of the "adreline junkie" nature of the Scoobies. What began as a need for connection, what Newsweek would call "urban family building" became something they couldn't stop, even when Buffy was all but shoving them away from it. So it made me feel really enlightened (and envious of Nwhepcat's succinct prose) to read this next:

(To Willow) "Spokane feels plenty comfortable. More than anywhere else I've ever been. I can't live the way you want me to, Will. Not anymore. I don't miss the bimonthly apocalypse, the adrenaline rush. I weaned myself off that juice, too."

There's a pause. "You're saying that's an addiction too?"

Her characters relate on levels that aren't platitudes, or quotes from the show woven into the dialogue to forge connection:

...and thinks of Tara. How confused and lost she'd been after Glory had fucked with her mind, how much smaller it had made her seem. He misses her now with a fierceness he wouldn't have believed. She had the softest eyes of anyone he's ever known. Xander often wishes he'd gotten to know her better; there was a weird little territorial edge that underlay most of their interactions. Stupid thing to have a tug of war over, somebody's love. He wishes he could talk to her now, bask in her empathy.

Instead of writing Tara as the Scooby earth mother, Nwhepcat makes the connection tenuous, just as it was. He hadn't really known Tara, which somehow makes his mourning for her cut deeper.

The description is visceral. Xander experiences PTSD over something simple - a breaking bottle of wine rushes up the smells of the winery and the feel of Caleb's hands on his face. It's not a moment I picture in Smell-O-Vision, but the casks of wine breaking around them would have reeked and with the added immediate loss of sight, the smell would have been the most powerful to Xander. The description here caused my own memories of the smell (subtler, of course) to choke in my throat.

As circumstance takes Xander back into the role he turned away from in Sunnydale and he's forced to explain the unexplainable to people who know him as "Alex" and Sunnydale as a "Trivial Pursuit question" - all of the grey he's allowed himself to drown in becomes black and white again:

"Yeah. Sometimes it is as simple as 'us' and 'them.'"

And then...he calls Faith.

"Lilac City" continues and I'm continuing along with it - but since nwhepcat only listed "The Loner" in my request for fic pimps, that's where I'll leave my public feedback. I wish it was better "feedback" rather than this sort of watercolor view of my thoughts as I read - but I'll say this: it was the absolute perfect story to begin my way back into the Buffyverse. Canon-based, my favorite character's POV, tightly weaving plot, mind-opening insight and a story that lets its theme - grief - color the lines both text and subtext. Oh, and just my description of it made elcazavampiros - the biggest Anya lover I know - well with tears in that Buffy-esque, immediacy of grief sort of way.

Other Things I Read (Or Re-Read):

These Songs of Freedom by nwhepcat: Xander, Original Characters
Rated: R
This is a current WiP written for the Africander fic-a-thon. Xander's in war torn Liberia, attempting to connect with a Slayer and find a reconnection to his past (and an understanding of what his future could hold) through a series of letters he writes, some half-finished, and most to Giles. Wonderful characterization and insight, as usual, and original characters that don't lead you to just skimming their scenes to get to someone you "know." (Currently 10 parts posted.)

Chocolatey Goodness by mpoetess: Spike/Xander, BtVS & AtS Ensembles
Rated: NC-17
ladycat777 suggested this one and I had to snicker. Whyfore doth I snick? Because I can quote whole chunks of "Chocolatey Goodness" dialogue at random. This is one of two fics I have printed hard-copies of (before I went - Jesus! Too much paper!) and one of few slash stories I've forced my husband to listen to me read aloud. Written in 2001, this is one of the founding fics of Spander. I've heard newer writers claim that it has "clichés" - but those clichés are sort of like growing up hearing "all the world's a stage" and then reading As You Like It and going, "Oh! So that's where that came from!" (Yeah, yeah, I just compared a slash fic to Shakespeare. Sue me. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?) Anyway - Xander's shower freak-out scene is still one of the best examples of writing slash with "two dudes" and, IMO, one of the best "Big Gay Xander" realization moments in S/X slash.

Small Fry by mpoetess and James Walkswithwind:
Pairing: Spike/Xander/(Anya implied), Willow/Tara, Gunn/Wesley (implied)
Rating: PG-13

Someone was just asking the other day the definition of "crack!fic." Ladies and gentleman - Exhibit A. An ancient mystical artifact causes Xander, Spike, Buffy and Giles to revert to the physical age of four years old. The descriptions of each character are adorably hilarious, the characterization is strong (which makes the situation even funnier) and by the time the AI gang is called in and Angel has to give Spike and Xander a (totally un-sexy) bubble bath, I couldn't stop giggling.

The shippiness isn't graphic - all of the ships are alluded to in dialogue and there are a few, brief PDAs, but it's mostly about the situational humor. I realize this may not be the fic for high-minded, canon-only Buffy fen (those who enjoyed, say, Giles turning into a bumbling Fyarl demon or Xander almost getting the fish-monster treatment) but for those of you who have always wanted a fic with a four year old Giles crawling onto Wesley's lap (in a totally not squicky way) to correct his Latin pronunciation in a four-year-old's lisp...what's not to love?

Fett for Bot by brandil
Pairing: Spike/Warren
Rating: R
Brandi received this cracked-out pairing (as most cracked-out pairings are received) through a fic-a-thon request. Warren? Scares the hell out of me. Part of it is the misogyny, but it's mostly the chest pelt. Still...this was pretty hot. Sexy Spike voice, spot of voyeurism, funny Boba Fett references...it was fun.

Anya, in the Beginning by brandil
Characters: Anya & Halfrek
Rating: PG

This is one of those fun gen fics that takes two separate streams from canon and crosses them, creating a fun "what if?" moment that's nothing short of brilliant.

Never Ending Gardens by yin_again: Xander

Also written for the Africander fic-a-thon. I love Xander-in-Africa fics. yin_again is one of the reasons I love Xander-in-Africa fics. They can take on a sort of sameness, however, almost following a paint-by-numbers "find the slayer - train the slayer - maybe bed the slayer - something horrible happens - Africa sucks - AIDs is bad, mkay - here we are, home again" pattern. This was different - just a moment in Xander's stay in Africa, doing something worthy that had nothing to do with slaying but everything with 'saving the world'.

Next up? Some Spangel, some femslash and some Buffy/Angel 4-Eva. Thanks again for the recs!

The Man-a-Thon

2006-01-29T01:43:24Z

One of the cool things that came out of my request for recs (and thank you all so much - I'm on story #3 and I'll be leaving public recs and private - well, sort of - feedback as I read) was a conversation with winterlive about how we've both lagged in the fandom (she's distracted by other fandoms, I'm just lame) and one thing lead to another and Winter toyed with this fic-a-thon and I agreed:

From winterlive's journal:

Possible movie inspirations include: The Good, The Bad & The Ugly, The Fast & The Furious, The Terminator, Army of Darkness, Platoon, Raging Bull, The Untouchables, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Lethal Weapon and Die Hard.

A black, vintage car ploughs into the city's welcome sign. Doc Martens plant themselves in the grass as the driver steps out and lights a cigarette. He has slicked-back platinum hair and chipped nail polish, and would eat your heart for breakfast.

A seemingly-drunk man's eyes go flat and lucid as a predator leaves the bar. He follows and interrupts the kill, makes two of his own instead. He leaves the scene wrapped up in his own issues, closed off and angry. When he gets home, he plans to clean his knives.

A carpenter takes on a demon, late in the graveyard. He wields an axe, his weapon of choice, and though it wounds him - he's only human - he turns it to dust with hard-learned punches, blocks and swings of his blade. Perhaps he's unappreciated, but you'd never, ever know it to listen to him.

A musician, quiet and laid-back, turns into a werewolf at the full moon, but he deals. A country boy's drive and ambition net him a position at a high-powered law firm. An army grunt learns the hard way that his beloved corps is corrupt and twisted; he loses the woman he loves, but he keeps fighting the good fight. The son of a warrior woman hunts his mother's killer across a continent.

The men of BtVS and AtS are men, and we want fic that underlines that fact.

We want to see drinking, fighting and cussing, here. Have them work on cars, or work out, or hit the bar after some demon-hunting. Let 'em get distracted by a nice rack in the middle of a sentence. If they're modern boys, let 'em geek out over video games, comic books, Warhammer. Bring on the cigars, the weapons training, the too-hard punch in the shoulder as an expression of affection. Home Depot, Hooters, The MGM Grand - take them to the bastions of Manhood and turn them loose.

To sign-up, please visit here

Fandom Vertigo

2006-01-27T15:14:50Z

So I've got a big disconnect going on with my fandom. And that sucks - because I don't have any other fandoms. I wouldn't feel so crap about feeling the Buffyverse slip through my fingers if I had another "hey, shiny!" to fall back on. Unfortunately, as much as I enjoy BSG and "Bones" and "Veronica Mars" and so on, I don't seem to be capable of the feverous fervor I have for the Buffyverse.

So in the words of Vince Neil, kickstart my heart?

Wanna share with me the best fic you feel you've written (pairing, genre and length *aren't* important - as long as it's Buffyverse, I'm open.) And if you're not the attention whore I am, feel free to list your favorite fic (not written by you) to re-read. Or share more than one. Or list authors I should check out.

Any help would kick ass. Thanks!

-Crazydiamondsue

Fall_for_SX fic

2005-11-30T07:15:23Z

My fic co-written with savoytruffle has begun posting at fall_for_sx

Title: Who Watches the Watchers (1/?)
Authors: crazydiamondsue and savoytruffle
Rating: Mature
Summary: Post NFA London. Andrew and Giles have a problem. Buffy consults. Spike and Xander get called in. Wackiness ensues.
Thanks: To reremouse for the rapid and ready beta read.
Disclaimer: We are not Joss. We write fic for love and not money. We play nicely with the characters but we don't take them home.

Part One

Och! A braw plan, I'm thinkin'

2005-11-28T20:56:48Z

I seriously love entrenous88: All Scottish AU Fic-a-thon.

Fandom Random

2005-11-21T18:13:09Z

Goblet of Fire
brandil had the comment that struck the deepest chord in me regarding this film: Emma Watson really does look like a young Ally Sheedy (War Games Ally, of course - Short Circuit Ally left me cold.)

This was the first HP film I’ve watched after since reading the book(s). I saw "Sorcerer’s Stone" and "Chamber of Secrets" as a complete neophyte; letting Chris Columbus hold my hand from scene to scene - which he was more than willing to do. This time, however, I watched the scenes shift with an almost-impatient, "How are you going to do...okay, that was pretty good, but what about the...? Huh. Yeah, that's pretty much how I pictured it, too."

Salon had a review asserting that the picture wasn't visually breathtaking (the dark tones, the almost oppressive lighting) but made up for it in emotional punch. Hmm...I thought it was visually stunning when it needed to be (Quidditch Cup; Yule Ball) and then let the dark creep in, isolating the characters (Maze, Graveyard) when it was more about the emotions and reactions.

Ralph Fiennes made me fear Voldemort for the first time (cinematically) and that negligent, "Avada Kevadra!" hand flick toward Cedric killed me, just as it had when I first read it this summer.

I've never been particularly 'shippy in regard to HP - I love the awkward, snarky-sweetness in Ron/Hermione, but I'm far more interested in the group friendship dynamic between Harry, Hermione and Ron. For me, the strongest parts of the film are those that play on the foundations of that friendship as it's besieged by that screwed up, being-digested-and-not-even-knowing-it, adolescent angst climbing its way into the spaces between them. I've always loved that "shades of grey," in-between time when you're not a little kid anymore, but you don't yet have that psychotic swing from "I am invincible, immortal!" to basically the entire bridge of Trent Reznor's Hurt. It's what I love most about the HP 'verse - magic aside.

And on a totally shallow fangirl note? Fred and George are hot, and I only feel a wee bit of "Mama likes!" dirtiness in saying that.

Walk the Line
uberaeryn and caoilainn - don't kill me! I'll see it again.

Why did no one tell me that Larry Bagby (Larry on "Buffy") was the upright bass player in this film??? These things are important!

I hereby rescind any, "Reese Witherspoon?! Reese ‘I Cruelly Intend to be Legally Blonde in Alabama’ Witherspoon?! As JUNE CARTER CASH?!" wangst as of this moment. She was hotter than a pepper sprout. I think my favorite moments of her were the quiet, natural ones when she let us see the little girl who's been on stage her whole life and is tired of riding in caravans full of "sweaty men" and would rather be home with her girls, but this is what puts food on the table. Reese nails that inner strength in June over and over again, as well as hitting perfectly what made June the "funny" Carter kid.

I do not know this Waylon Payne - but he was the best Jerry Lee Lewis I'v ever seen - better than Jerry Lee Lewis today trying to remember who Jerry Lee was in '56. The Elvis actor I could have lived without - he was kind of doing a "Chris Issak doing Elvis" thing. Although the line when one of his band mates tells Cash, "That Presley can sure talk about poon," made me laugh.

I had a few anachronistic quibbles with the film - Cash is given (speed? DayQuil?) pills for the first time with a casual, "...it's cool, Elvis takes 'em," disclaimer and "Elvis" smiles disarmingly, which not only lends a bit of "E turned Cash onto bennies!" - it also wars with the convention that Presley was first introduced to his upper/downer lifestyle during his Army stint in Germany. (Of course, I don't think Presley was still on the chitlin’ circuit with Cash and Lewis at this point in history – late ‘56 – but that sort of synchronicity makes for "make the myths" film-making, so I'm gonna shut-up.)

Robert Patrick - you are the best stoic country daddy ever - you are so much more than a gelatinous Terminator. *I doff my hat*

Also? I've been singing the first few bars of "Jackson" in a continuous loop for 24 hours. Help.

DB on Punk'd
Finally caught this last night. adis723 had mentioned that, based on this clip, DB was neither Angel nor Booth, but rather some freakish real person totally without grandeur. Imagine...a real person. Snerk.

He was also an incredibly patient one. (The set-up was that his wife Jaime takes him out for dinner, she orders a salad, takes a bite and broken glass in the salad cuts the roof her mouth badly, leading DB to call for a manager where all sorts of Punk’d merriment and some sort of misunderstanding will occur.) He was astonishingly reasonable. He never raised his voice, his body language was tightly controlled and he only used a couple of well chosen obscenities.

Even after the manager repeatedly asked, "Are you sure (the glass cut her mouth)?" and requested that DB "Calm down," which was HILARIOUS considering how freaky-quiet mad DB actually was, DB only seemed to lose his control when the manager kept trying to stick his fingers in Jaime's mouth. And even then it was a tight-lipped, "Get your fingers away from my wife's mouth. Back away. Back away." I think at that point, even my mild-mannered elcazavampiros would have jumped the table with a "Get your fucking fingers out of my wife's mouth," oh, wait - Caza can't cuss properly when he's really upset, so make that: "Get your shit freakin' fingers out of my wife's bitchin' mouth."

Oh! And DB's grin when he realized he was punk'd! It's that unaware grin he gives when he forgets he's on camera, not that freaky half-snarl thing he does when he's "posing." And I really want his leather jacket with the dog bone on the back...(and I totally cracked up at Ashton Kutcher's intro: "David Boreanaz is on a new show, 'Bones,'" - laughs - "I said bones." /*is 12*)

Challenge:National Pie Championship (Food Network)
A fandom of two - entrenous88 and me. Phyllis won with her Cherry Red-Rapsberry Pie. The young Scottish judge was hot...and I was kind of squicked by the sweet potato cheesecake thingie. You all have no idea what I'm talking about! Ha-ha! Thirty second stories: I love pie.

Tag Feedback to Savoytruffle and Reremouse

2005-11-13T22:59:20Z

Posting of the Spike/Xander tag savoytruffle and reremouse are writing for me after my hideous computer theft of August 2005.

Spike/Xander - NC-17

Previous parts:
One, Two and Three

Continues...

savoytruffle
More low-key banter between Spike and Buffy, but there’s something off about it – something forced – and a tension that vibrates around them and its pretty much a relief when a pack of vamps appears to provide a distraction. Spike and Buffy jump straight in and Xander is about to jump in after them, but gets catch up in watching.

Because when they fight, the awkwardness falls away and some sort of awareness seems to take its place and Spike has Buffy’s back and Buffy has Spike’s and it’s like a dance or something.

Then a stray vamp breaks free from the edge of the pack and it’s time for less watching, more dusting. And dust it Xander does – in short order, even – but his technique feels a bit… oafish.

Effective, but not pretty.

Not like Spike and Buffy, whom he watches as they finish the rest off together, and it occurs to Xander that they know each other.

Intimately.

That he, Xander, is the outsider and that’s kind of a surprise.

He’d known, but he hadn’t known.

The fight finishes and they stand there, the awkwardness creeping back in through the settling silence. Spike lights a cigarette and Xander is jealous because smokers always have something to do when non-smokers are just standing there like idiots.

Finally, Buffy dusts herself off and says she’s gonna call it a night.

Xander doesn’t know what to call anything.

reremouse
He’s not so sure he should have come because now he can't shake the feeling he doesn't fit in Sunnydale anymore. Like there was a Xander-shaped place here before but now there's not. Or maybe that he doesn't fit into the old Xander shape.

And maybe he shouldn't be making any moves at all in this whole big totally unfamiliar - landscape - that is the past three years in Sunnydale.

The enormity of what he doesn't know is big and has teeth. Xander sticks to what he does know. Spike's cigarette is almost gone. He should probably say something before they both have to stand around being awkward. “You stole my toas - coffee maker."

“Suppose you’ll want to come take it back then,” Spike says and Xander watches his boot crush out the cigarette butt he drops to the ground. “Seeing as how you drink so much coffee.”

And Xander’s about to deliver a witty funny guy come back - he's got a million of them - but then he actually looks at Spike - who's smirking again.

And the tingly feeling comes back and brings friends.

And Xander holds Spike’s gaze and feels like - okay maybe there's movement possibility here after all. Groping in the dark movement. But moves. Groping. Spike's still smirking and Xander thinks he's grinning back. And possibly licking his lips and thinking thoughts that could constitute necrophilia in every state in the union. “Uh - Buff? Catch up with you later.”

There's silence and Spike looking over Xander's shoulder with a neutral expression on his face. Then the eyebrows go up and the head tilts and behind him, Buffy clears her throat. "Okay. So not asking. So not wanting the details. So spending the rest of my evening with chick flicks and pizza."

"Whoa, is that the exciting life of a Slayer these days? Chick flicks and pizza?"

"And Star Trek and beer are the social ambition of every young up and coming homosexual," Spike says and before Xander can recover from the wig of Spike defending chick flicks and pizza - or maybe the total non-wig of Spike mocking him and Buffy both - Spike's lighting another cigarette and jerking his head toward a crypt. "Look - are you coming to rescue your sodding appliances or not?"

"Meat Lovers," Buffy says, turning and walking away, "with extra pepperoni."

"Slayers," Spike says around his cigarette. "Hungry or horny."

savoytruffle
And, okay, that’s a setup for a cheesy line if he’s ever heard one, but Xander manages to keep his mouth shut.

Barely.

By chewing on the inside of his cheek.

It’s a technique he’s honed since moving to Oxnard, where he learned the hard way that, in the bar scene, volume of babble tends to be inversely proportionate to amount of play. The principles of high school geometry had finally come in handy.

Or was it algebra?

Or maybe…

Xander looks over at Spike, who is doing something to his new cigarette for which the cigarette ought to press charges – or possibly send a thank you note.

Xander swallows.

Hard.

Or maybe math is so not the point right now.

Xander wonders if there’s some part of his brain that he can chew on to keep himself from thinking.

And, okay – ew.

But anyway, Spike is walking now and Xander is following and that is of the good. They reach a crypt and Spike slides open its stone door – smoothly, like it doesn’t weigh a couple hundred pounds or so - holding it open for Xander to step through.

Who says chivalry is dead?

Of course, Spike is dead, so maybe the better question is: Who says the dead aren’t chivalrous? But Xander isn’t sure that anyone really says that – although they probably should, what with vampires being more likely to eat an old lady than help her across the street and all.

And Xander’s wishing he could chew on his brain again, but he looks around instead.

At stone, stone and more stone – with a subtle stone motif and elegant stone trim.

This is nesting?

“Wanker,” Spike says, because apparently he’d said that last bit out loud.

Whoops.

reremouse
And apparently he's said that out loud too because Spike's giving him the you idiot look but that's okay because it's followed by a look best described in Penthouse Forum if Penthouse Forum accepted letters of the gay and Spike's pushing him back against the door and Xander loses the thread to a mouthful of tastefully chilled tongue.

The crypt door's cold against his shoulder blades and something Xander doesn't want to think about is brushing his neck. He'd rather think about the way Spike's hands are kneading his ass and the way his cock's trying to batter a hole through his zipper singlehandedly.

If a cock had hands.

And he thinks he's moaning again but the crypt has weird acoustics so he can't tell. He just sucks on Spike's tongue and kisses back with a clack of teeth and gets his arms under Spike's duster for a double handful of wiry ass until Spike's moaning too in a weird kind of harmony.

Xander finally remembers he has to breathe and throws his head back to connect hard with the door and stays there panting but Spike didn't get the cease and desist memo and those cool lips are marking territory down his throat which should be wiggy and weird and other words that start with w but it's not.

"Whaa - " Xander tries to say before the word dies a stuttering death when Spike bites his collarbone with human teeth. "How - " he says, getting farther before losing the thread because Spike's licking his shoulder and that's not as sexy as the collarbone thing. Xander swallows and wonders if Spike's mapping out his veins.

As hello kisses go, this one's going down in history.

Xander marshals his thoughts.

They fall in with untied boots, unbuttoned jackets and exposed tattoos they don't remember getting. "Where's the clock?"

Spike backs off and a blank look flickers over his face and is gone. It's replaced with the textbook example of 'incredulity' - a word Xander missed on a Junior English pop quiz. "You actually came for the sodding clock?"

The words filter in and Xander is an idiot. He grabs Spike by the hair and hauls him back to his lips. "Fuck the clock," he tells Spike's tongue, up close and personal.

savoytruffle
Spike’s tongue implies that it’d rather fuck something else.

Right now.

Or maybe five minutes ago.

Which, yeah, would be good, because he’s been wanting this for… days? Has it only been days? Feels like weeks.

Feels like years.

Feels like if Spike doesn’t finish unzipping Xander’s jeans in the next point-five seconds, Xander may suffer permanent injury. Fortunately, Spike has that super-vampy speed thing going for him.

Spike also has that super-vampy no-breathing thing going for him.

Going for Xander.

Going on Xander.

Going and going and going and going and it’s like getting a blow job from the Energizer Bunny.

Except - you know - a whole let sexier and without the bestiality angle.

And all too soon, Xander is coming and then he’s sliding.

Down the wall.

And what little may have been left of his brain is dribbling out of his ears.

Xander feels himself being dragged back up the wall. “Not done with you yet,” the evil-only-in-a-good-way, not-just-blood-sucking vampire says.

“Can’t move,” Xander says.

“Can still be fucked,” Spike says. And Xander has to admit that Spike has a point.

A good point.

A hard point, stuffed into obscenely tight jeans.

“God, yes,” Xander says. Spike starts to drag him across the crypt. “Where’re we going?”

“The bed.”

“There’s a bed?”

There is indeed a bed. It’s downstairs. Or down-ladder, really, which is sort of a problem since Xander can’t really feel his legs yet.

Falling? So not sexy.

But Spike really doesn’t seem to mind and Xander finds himself hauled up again and hauled over to the bed. Xander flops back onto the pillow and summons up the energy to look around.

Clock, coffee maker, toaster over, stereo, bookshelf – with books and everything.

“Nesty,” Xander says.

Spike pulls off Xander’s shoes. Spike pulls off Xander’s pants. Spike pulls off his own tee shirt. Spike pulls off his own pants.

Suddenly, Xander is back in the game.

All in.

So very, very in.

Spike starts crawling up the bed.

Slowly.

Too slowly and Xander levers himself up, grabs Spike by the back of the neck, and crushes their lips together.

~TBC~

Community Pimp!

2005-11-13T02:10:50Z

buffyversetop5 is a new recs community for year end recs of Top 5 favorites (fics, vids, icons, etc.) Posting will begin December 15, 2005 and close for the season on January 31, 2006.

From the info page:

buffyversetop5 is a seasonal community for posting Top 5 lists of activities for the year. Your choices for top fanfic, vids, drabbles, icons, manips, meta essays, you name it! While we all tend to rec and pimp work, the end of the year is often a time to look back and see what happened in the last 12 months and what really stands out for us. This community is a place where all those recs can be brought together and serve as a resource for the coming year.

For more information, visit the complete info page here

FIC: Somewhere Down the Road

2005-11-05T02:36:45Z

Title: Somewhere Down the Road
Author: crazydiamondsue
Characters: Joyce & Angel
Rating: PG
Beta: ladycat777
Summary: Los Angeles – 1976 and Sunnydale – 1998 – memorable first impressions aren’t what they used to be.

Somewhere down the road, our roads are gonna cross again
It doesn't really matter when, but somewhere down the road…

1976 - Los Angeles, California - Universal Amphitheatre

Joyce clenched the cigarette between her teeth as she fumbled with the matches. She winced as the first one struck and burned quickly down, stinging her fingers. She lit another and then puffed frantically as the flame sputtered in the damp night air. Smoke filled her lungs and she tilted her head back, coughing only slightly as she exhaled.

“I’m telling Mom,” Darlene said serenely.

Joyce turned to glare at her sister. Darlene sat Indian style on her half of the blanket, her eyes on the stage as a smug little half-smile pulled at her lips.

“Your word against mine,” Joyce said, tossing her hair as she took another drag.

“I’ll make her do a breath check, and I won’t share the Binaca,” Darlene said. She glanced down at the blanket. “Plus, you’re ashing on my espadrilles. Put it out.”

Joyce scowled as she leaned forward to grind the barely puffed cigarette into the dirt. Sighing, she sat back and drew her knees up her chin. “It’s raining,” she muttered.

“It is not – it’s barely drizzling. Besides, it’s good for your skin.”

Joyce rolled her eyes. “I’m 17 - nothing’s good for my skin.”

Darlene frowned at Joyce and then turned her attention back to the performance.

Joyce shifted irritably on the blanket and then leaned over, bumping her shoulder against Darlene’s as she changed tactics. “We could sneak out of here,” she whispered eagerly, “we could go down to the Troubadour. Fleetwood Mac’s playing tonight…”

Darlene’s ponytail lashed against Joyce’s cheek as she whirled on her sister, sighing hugely. “You’re too young to get in the Troubadour, and besides, it cost me two weeks salary to get these tickets because you said you wanted to go to a concert. So be quiet and listen,” Darlene hissed.

“A concert,” Joyce nodded, “like rock and roll, not…”

Darlene snorted. “Rock and roll. You think Seals and Croft is rock and roll.” She waved a hand at the stage. “I don’t know what your problem is – this is the same thing.”

Joyce looked at the stage, wrinkling her nose. “It’s really not.”

Darlene flicked her finger against Joyce’s upper arm. Hard. “I mean it, Joycie, shut it, okay? We’re not going to the Troubadour. Somebody’d probably try to give us a marijuana cigarette – and you’d take it!”

Joyce scoffed. “No one calls them ‘marijuana cigarettes,’ Darlene – they’re doobies. And you don’t know what I’d do, I might – “

There was a quiet sigh and the sound of irritated rustling next to them, and Joyce turned to see the man next to them moving a bit farther away on the grass.

“See what you did?” Darlene hissed. “You made that man move with all your yakking. Man, he looks really P.O.'d.”

“I’m telling Mom you said ‘P.O.’d’,” Joyce mumbled as Darlene shrugged and turned away.

The man spread a leather jacket on the ground and sat down on it carefully, as if he were trying to keep as little of the damp grass from touching it as possible. The muscles in his thighs strained against his tight corduroy slacks as he stretched his legs out, and Joyce gasped a little, blushing, but the man ignored her, directing his gaze back to the stage.

Once his eyes focused back on the concert, he seemed unaware of anything else, his body utterly still, although his lips twitched a little, as if he wanted to sing along but wouldn’t let himself.

Joyce couldn’t stop looking at his mouth. She’d never seen a man’s mouth that looked like that – deep red, almost like his lips were stained or tattooed, but natural at the same time. Maybe it was because his skin was so fair; even the in dim light this far from the stage, Joyce could almost make out tiny blue veins where his hair didn’t brush down to cover them. And his hair – dark brown and silky looking, like shampoo commercial hair. It was a shag cut, and she’d never seen that work on a man, either, but boy howdy, it worked on this one.

“You think he’s a fox,” Darlene giggled suddenly.

Joyce jumped quickly, startled, and then looked back at the man to see if he’d heard, but he was still looking at the stage, unaware of anything but the music. “No, I don’t,” she sputtered, embarrassed. She reached for her purse, dragging it into her lap and hissing as the macramé scraped her bare legs.

“Yes, you do,” Darlene said as she tugged one of Joyce’s curls. “You think he’s fox-y,” she sing-songed, “you wish you were his girlfriend…”

“Shut up,” Joyce said, ducking her head and digging around in her purse. She found the distraction she was looking for and then snuck another look at the man. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back, his shirt open at the neck and just a glint of light was shining off a necklace and… “Okay,” Joyce said, grinning slightly. “He is sorta foxy. Very Todd Rundgren.”

“Gross,” Darlene said, wrinkling her nose.

“Oh, shut up,” Joyce said, opening a bottle of nail polish and stroking a gleam of dark red down one fingernail. “You think Elton John is…”

“Shhh,” Darlene said, jostling Joyce so that the polish streaked slightly. “You’ll make him move farther away and then you won’t be able to stare at his crotch anymore.”

“I was not!” Joyce snapped her jaw shut and tossed her head, looking back down at her nails. Darlene laughed softly and then went back to humming along with music. Joyce snuck another look at the man, only to find him staring at her.

He was frowning, but not as though he was angry at her for talking through the concert again. Joyce stared back at him, and he turned to look at the stage, and then back to her, glancing down at her nail polish and looking, well, hurt.

Flustered, Joyce looked at the polish she’d unthinkingly painted across the backs of her fingers and then jumped again when applause crashed around them. She looked up to find the hillside around the amphitheatre glowing with tiny lights as hundreds of hands lifted lighters. Her lips quirked, because lighters for this…?

I remember all my life, raining down as cold as ice.

The man was standing now, his eyes closed and his head bowed…almost as if in prayer. Joyce wondered why he had sat so far back in the crowd since he was obviously such a big Manilow fan.

Morning just another day; happy people pass my way…

Of course, the fact that he was such a big Manilow fan explained why a guy who looked like that was all alone. Joyce shook her head. Wow. She had great taste.

“I’m going to pee,” she said to Darlene as she got to her feet and headed toward the bushes behind them.

“Joyce! There are bathrooms right across the street!” Darlene whispered harshly after her.

“Too far,” Joyce said, waving a hand back as she eased past the man with the leather jacket.

“I’m telling Mom you acted like such a tramp!” Darlene all but yelled.

Joyce felt the man staring at her, but she didn’t have to actually see him staring to feel any more embarrassed as she ran into the bushes. God, Darlene could be such a b-i-t-c-h sometimes.

Legs trembling, Joyce looped her purse over her wrist and fumbled for the snap on her skirt.

“Hey, lady,” a voice said smoothly behind her.

Joyce whirled around, choking on a gasp. Okay, it was possible to feel more embarrassed. But it wasn’t the man from the concert; this was someone else, darker and more dangerous in a KISS t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. And, oh, he was checking her out hard.

“Um, hi,” Joyce said, stumbling back slightly. “Sorry – I didn’t know anyone else was here, I’ll just…”

“Hey, hey, girl, mellow – it’s all right. I’ve been checking you all night. Thought maybe you saw me,” he said, nodding his head back to toward the amphitheatre. “Thought maybe you were checking me, too.”

“Um, uh, no,” Joyce said, smiling slightly as she twisted her purse straps in her hands. “I was just…”

“Yeah, you looked pretty bummed out, too,” the man said with a grin. He walked closer toward her, his grin widening, reassuring. “’Cause Manilow…pretty not righteous, huh? Mandy,” he chuckled, “it’s not even like a real name…” . .

Joyce relaxed, smiling. This guy didn’t seem much older than she was, and it was nice to have someone smile at her and not tell her to be quiet or look like she’d ruined their life by not grooving to Manilow. “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “I think it’s kinda pretty. The name, not the song, ‘cause yeah – not my bag. But Mandy would be a pretty name for a girl,” she said, easing away as he stepped closer. “I mean, it’s much better than Joyce, and you could spell it with an ‘i’ and you know, any of those names with the ‘y’ sound at the end are kinda cute…”

“Like you,” the man said, reaching for her hand. “Joyce, huh? I’m Todd. So…you wanna get out of here? KISS is playing at the Palladium…” Joyce shook her head uncertainly, and the man lifted her hand to his lips, “or we could stay right here and have our own fun.”

Todd drew her fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking at the red polish. Just as quickly, he pulled his head away, choking. “Oh, man,” he said, bending over and wheezing, “I thought something smelled off, but it was dark and it looked so real…”

Joyce jerked her hand out his grasp. “Gross! Freak me out,” she gasped, disgusted. She wiped her hand against her skirt, frantically trying to get the feel of his mouth off of her skin.

He looked back up at her, his grin nowhere near reassuring this time. “Don’t want to hold hands?” he asked, shrugging. “That’s okay,” he said, as he grabbed her arms and jerked her toward him, his head lowering, “I’m more into necking, myself.”

“Get away from her.”

Joyce glanced behind her to see the man from the concert, who looked a lot less sad and amazingly more scary.

“Get your own,” Todd snarled, shoving Joyce behind him.

“I don’t let myself do that, anymore,” the man said, walking silently toward them, “and somehow I don’t think I’m going to let you, either, so you can get the hell away from her and get out of here, or…” he lifted his head suddenly, looking back toward the concert and the music drifted over them. “Man,” he groaned, frustrated, “that’s the bridge on Somewhere Down the Road…” he looked back at Todd. “Sorry – you ran out of choices. Duck,” he said to Joyce.

Joyce felt something or someone fall heavily against her, and then she was rolling down a slight hill, her hands still tangled painfully in her purse. She staggered to her feet and saw the man standing behind her, his hand reached out to help her up.

She looked around quickly, brushing at the grass stains on her skirt. “W-Where’d that…um, Todd go?”

The man smiled at her and she swallowed hard. He shrugged lightly. “Hey – no one wants to miss the bridge on Somewhere Down the Road. C’mon, I think your sister’s worried.”

Joyce sighed. “Yeah. She’s a trip.” She looked at the man through her lashes. “I’m Joyce.”

He just smiled back at her as his hand slipped beneath her elbow and helped her up the hill.

“So, do you, ah,” Joyce glanced over to where she could see Darlene staring at them. “Do you wanna come sit next to us?” she asked quickly. “I mean, I promise I’ll be quiet.”

“No, thanks,” he said, backing away. He licked his lips and Joyce swore her knees were only trembling from the fall. “Barry, uh, he always closes with Copa, and, well, I kinda wanna be up front for that. Listen, stay out of the bushes at night, okay?”

“Joyce!” Darlene called, waving frantically as people shushed around her.

Joyce waved back, annoyed, and then turned back to say thanks…but she was alone in the bushes with a ripped purse and a grass stained skirt. She shrugged and turned to head back to Darlene, walking quickly in case that freak, Todd, was still “checking” her. Well, she wouldn’t tell Darlene about that, because then this would be the first and last concert she ever got to go to, and please…Manilow?

***

1998 – Sunnydale, California – Summers’ Residence

“…oh! Okay...um...Angel, uh, this is my mom. Mom, this is Angel. Uh, we ran into each other on the way home.”

Joyce looked at the young man who stood behind Buffy. Well, young, yes, but not young enough to be standing behind Buffy in their darkened living room without cause for some motherly concern.

Angel nodded, as if he understood the worry in Joyce’s eyes and said simply, “Nice to meet you.”

Joyce cocked her head, looking over Angel’s dark jacket and white t-shirt and trying not to think hoodlum because she was Cool-Mom, and Cool-Mom did not think ‘hoodlum.’ “What do you do, Angel?”

“He's a student,” Buffy said quickly. Joyce gave her an ‘I’m Cool-Mom, not Stupid-Mom’ head tilt and Buffy licked her lips, “Uh, first year community college. Angel's been helping me with my history; you know I've been toiling there...”

Joyce nodded slowly, deciding Cool-Mom would buy that. For now. She turned and started toward the stairs. “It’s a little late for tutoring. I'm gonna go to bed, and, uh…” Joyce paused, her hand on the stair railing as she looked back at Angel. “I’m sorry, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but have we met?”

Angel smiled slightly, looking back at her with a shrug. “Maybe somewhere down the road…or maybe I just have one of those faces.”

“Wow,” Joyce mumbled, “there’s more than one of that face?”

“Mom!”

“Sorry,” Joyce whispered as she leaned down to kiss Buffy on the cheek. “It’s just…for a history tutor? Pretty foxy.”

END

A/N: Some dialogue from BtVS-1 "Angel"; Darlene is Joyce's sister's name canonically ("Pangs"); I was only 5 in 1976, so I Googled all the Manilow info and "Mandy" and "Somewhere Down the Road" are both, of course, by Barry Manilow. ETA: "Somewhere Down the Road" and "Copa Cabana" both post-date 1976, but "Copa" is funny and "Somewhere Down the Road" - um, I know all the words and I think it's kinda pretty?

First "new" Journal Post!

2005-11-05T00:33:41Z

From crazydiamondsue:

I know a lot of people are doing "Big Damn Pairing Table" writing exercises now, and I thought I'd try something sort of different. I made a list of every possible Buffyverse "pairing" (I hate to use pairing, because some are gen) that I would be interested in writing and listed them. If I'd already written a fic for that pairing, I linked it (I'll never do better with Spike/Riley than I've already done) and if I've had a fic idea, I've noted it. If anyone has any ideas of a story they'd like to see written with a specific pairing (or non-pairing, as the case may be) feel free to drop a note in comments. Of course, if you've never read my writing, er, to paraphrase Nick Brendon, it won't suck any more than anything else I haven't done.

ETA: I didn't include any "never-met" or "barely-acquainted" pairings - there were already too many with canon or almost-canon or canon-if-you-squint. Or characters that just didn't interest me (Justine, Eve, Warren - although those, including the Big Bads will possibly show up as supporting characters.)

I didn't duplicate pairings, i.e., Buffy/Angel appears under "Buffy" but not "Angel." I've written my first story in this exercise which I'll post later today (or tomorrow.) Why the first story turned out to be Angel & Joyce, I'll never begin to guess.

Buffy
Buffy/Angel - (IDEA: Buffy finds out about Connor)
Buffy/Spike -
Buffy/Xander -
Buffy/Riley -
Buffy/Faith (possibly Buffy & Faith)-
Buffy & Giles (possibly Buffy/Giles)-
Buffy & Willow -
Buffy & Dawn -
Buffy & Joyce -
Buffy & Tara -
Buffy & Anya -
Buffy & Wesley -
Buffy & Cordelia (possibly Buffy/Cordelia)-
Buffy & Oz -

Angel
Angel/Spike - Pretty Pictures, Pretty Words
Angel/Xander - Training Day or Rodeo (Human AU)
Angel/Darla - (IDEA: Origin of Angel's tattoo)
Angel/Cordelia -
Angel/Nina -
Angel & Doyle (possilby Angel/Doyle)-
Angel/Drusilla (possilby Angel & Drusilla)-
Angelus/William -
Angel/Wesley - (IDEA: Pylea arc story, mystically "tied" together)
Angel & Gunn -
Angel & Connor -
Angel/Fred - (IDEA: Kiss from “Magic Bullet”)
Angel & Giles -
Angel/Willow (possibly Angel & Willow)-
Angel & Oz -
Angel & Joyce - Somewhere Down the Road
Angel & Dawn - (Angel tries to make Dawn not afraid of him post Season 2 Angelus)
Angel & Riley -
Angel & Harmony

Xander
Xander/Spike - Choices
Xander & Willow -
Xander/Anya -
Xander/Cordy -
Xander/Faith - (IDEA: Post-NFA fic for liz_marcs)-
Xander/Buffy -
Xander/Wesley - (IDEA: "Wander Lust" fic for karabair)
Xander & Riley (possibly Xander/Riley)-
Xander/Willow/Angel - (IDEA: "Wish!Verse" for entenous88)-
Xander/Giles (possibly Xander & Giles)-
Xander & Andrew -
Xander & Harmony -
Xander & Jesse -
Xander & Joyce -
Xander & Oz (possibly Xander/Oz)-
Xander & Dawn (possibly Xander/Dawn)-
Xander/Blaine - Best Laid Plans

Spike
Spike/Drusilla -
Spike & Darla -
Spike/Willow (possibly Spike & Willow)-
Spike/Anya -
Spike/Riley - Blood Will Tell
Spike/Harmony -
Spike/Buffybot
Spike & Dawn -
Spike & Tara -
Spike & Joyce -
Spike/Giles (possibly Spike & Giles)-
Spike & Clem -
Spike & Cordelia - Curiouser and Curiouser
Spike & Fred -
Spike/Illyria -
Spike & Gunn -
Spike & Wesley (possibly Spike/Wesley)-
Spike & Lorne -
Spike & Lindsey -

Willow
Willow/Tara -
Willow/Oz - (IDEA: Willow and Oz meet up post "Chosen" 'elaborate lives')
Willow/Faith - Sweet Tart
Willow & Dawn -
Willow & Giles - (Willow refuses Giles magical training)
Willow & Cordelia (possibly Willow/Cordelia)-
Willow/Fred -
Willow/Anya (possibly Willow & Anya)-
Willow & Wesley -
Willow & Connor -
Willow, Buffy & Xander -
Willow/Kennedy -
Willow & Riley (possibly Willow/Riley)-

Giles
Giles/Joyce -
Giles/Ethan -
Giles/Jenny -
Giles/Olivia -
Giles/Anya -
Giles & Cordelia -
Giles & Oz -

Cordelia
Cordelia/Devon -
Cordelia & Wesley -
Cordelia/Gunn -
Cordelia & Fred -
Cordelia & Lorne -
Cordelia & Connor (possibly Cordelia/Connor)-
Cordelia & Harmony (possibly Cordelia/Harmony)-
Cordelia & Lilah (possibly Cordelia/Lilah)-
Cordelia & Lindsey -

Faith
Faith/Angel -
Faith & Joyce -
Faith/Lilah -
Faith & Robin -
Faith & Anya -
Faith & Connor -
Faith & Cordelia (possibly Faith/Cordelia)-
Faith & Tara -
Faith & Giles -

Wesley
Wesley & Giles (possibly Wesley/Giles)-
Wesley/Fred (possibly Wesley & Fred)-
Wesley/Gunn - Bored Games
Wesley/Illyria (possibly Wesley & Illyria)-
Wesley/Lilah -
Wesley & Faith (possibly Wesley/Faith)-
Wesley & Lorne -
Wesley & Lindsey -

Gunn
Gunn/Fred -
Gunn & Alana -
Gunn & Rondell -
Gunn/Gwen -
Gunn & Connor -

Dawn
Dawn & Andrew -
Dawn & Kennedy -
Dawn & Janice -
Dawn & Joyce -
Dawn & Tara -

Connor
Connor & Holtz -
Connor & Fred -
Connor & Lorne -

Andrew
Andrew & Jonathan - (possibly Andrew/Jonathan)
Trio -

Lindsey
Lindsey/Angel -
Lindsey/Darla -
Lindsey/Lilah (possibly Lindsey & Lilah)-

Drusilla
Drusilla/Darla -
Drusilla & Buffy -
Drusilla/Angelus -